Being in a Divorced, One Parent Family; Another Scary Encounter; A Boy Named Donald

And so the nomads were moving again. This time my Heavenly Father had guided my mom to a place more protected and less likely to be robbed, at 1133 East Harvard Street in Glendale. There were 8 one story small attached units all in a row with another row of carports at the end (we saw a tarantula there once). By this time my mom had learned to drive and we had a Plymouth car we named Betsy. Betsy was green with big tail fins.

We were in apartment F--for Fun! Now we were surrounded by families and people who would watch out for us. Yet throughout all our school years, Nancy and I were the only ones, both in and out of school, we knew from a divorced, one parent family. It just was not the norm in those days. Here’s the diagram of the apartments and the rooms inside. The apartments were all the same. Ours is bigger in the diagram just so you can see the layout of each apartment (but you already probably figured that out!). 

The lady in apartment C watched us before and after school for a few years. She was really nice, but had three kids of her own, and like us, all in a one bedroom apartment. One day her son, a year or two older than me, took me to the back of the carport and asked me if I had any “hair” in private places yet. It scared me and I ran home. After that his mom didn’t watch us anymore. We were "on our own" again.

There was a nice house next to our apartments and a boy named Donald lived there. He taught me how to draw cartoon figures. He was really good at it and a good teacher. I was very proud of my drawings of Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck back then. All I can draw now is our puppy named Lillybelle. Can you tell she’s part shihtzu and part chiwawa (and part cute)?

Lillybelle likes to sit on our Wii board.
We call it her Lillypad. She even as her own Mi. :)   

Joshua drew a picture of Lillybelle, but took it home.
This one was drawn by Grandma.

Donald also had a big tree in his backyard. During the summertime we kids would all climb in and sing silly songs. It was a lot of fun. Once we tried to dig a big hole in his yard—big enough to have a clubhouse. But I think we only got it big enough for someone to sit in. It was very impressive though! These were the beginnings of some positive and fun relationships.

Plus I loved my teachers. I went to John Marshall Elementary School. It was only a block or two away so I could walk there and back. Miss Spike, my second grade teacher, was an older teacher and very, very loving. She reminded me of my Grandma with the twinkle in her eyes. It was a fun year. I remember “campaigning” and marching around our playground with dozens of other kids chanting “We want Ike! We want Ike!” And the whole country got him!

I don't remember ever watching television during these years. We played lots of games both inside and out and read lots of library books. I also don't remember homework, though I expect there was some. Life was very different then than it is now. And it was about to get even more different with a teacher named Lippy (short for Mr. Lipniski).

God Can and Does Speak to Children; Nancy Starts Talking; We Get Robbed

A life changing miracle happened while we lived in the little bungalow on Elk Street. One day I was sick and staying home alone by myself. I was sitting on the big bed Nancy and I shared. I began wondering who God was and where he was. I tried to trick Him by planning to think one thing, and then quickly changing my mind to think something else. But I soon realized, even then, that you can't trick God, that He was always one step ahead of me and working for my good. I don’t know how I knew there was a God, but I did. I think we went to church on Christmas and Easter...sometimes.

Maybe it was the experience with the “Sandman” that opened my heart to Him that day. But this time, sitting alone on the bed, I felt His presence draw near and impress on my heart that he loved me and he wanted me to love him and to be a teacher and to love and teach children. It was very powerful, and unusual for me, to know His Presence like that without ever having learned of Him in any formal setting. God can and does speak to children. And His gentleness, especially with children in need, is remarkable.

This encounter has formed the focus for my life ever since. Today to love God and His Son Jesus, and to teach and love children comes from the impartation that came from Father’s heart that day at home alone and sick. In the future when I was a teacher, I would pray for each of my students, that they would have an encounter with Jesus however He wanted to come to them, but to reassure them of His love even when they didn't yet know him.

Meanwhile my mom had many boyfriends during our growing-up years. We well remember one named Scotty who had a car he prized and wouldn't let us touch it. Mom took a photo of us in front of it. And now you can see it—but NOT touch! You can also see Nancy and I in front of the school where Nancy went. I remember going with Mom to pick her up from day care. She is too, too cute!!! Plus she got Daddy’s red hair that you can't see in this black and white picture.




She was very hard not to love, even when things were not going well. But one challenge was that Nancy was slow to talk. When she did tried to talk, she pointed to things. I was the only one who could understand her so they would ask me what she said. It was always clear to me. When she was 3 to 3 ½ she started talking so the rest of the world could hear her lovely voice too.

I don't remember how long we lived in the little bungalow, but one night we got robbed of all mom's money and personal stuff too. Mom, Nancy and I all slept through it -- a miracle. I remember the police coming the next day to get my mom’s report. She was pretty concerned. So you can guess another move was coming soon.

The Dark, Dark House, Mom’s Teeth Get Knocked Out, Rita’s Suicide and We Move Again

We had very little money and no car. Plus mom didn’t know how to drive. But she did have a job working as a nurse at the same place as my Aunt. Since my cousins, Richard and Ronnie, wanted their bedroom back, my mom found a bedroom for us in the house of a lady named Rita. The house seemed dark. Lots of people came and went. Nancy and I stayed in the little bedroom at the back of the house. This is the only house I’m not sure of the floor plan. Just darkness. 

I remember going to school once and being placed in a reading group. The teacher flashed word cards at us and I didn't know them. I guess I'm kinda glad I didn't go to school much during first grade. At least I don't remember other times.


BUT I do remember that my mom came home one night with a man who had been drinking.  Apparently she refused his advances. He was so mad that he socked her mouth and knocked out most of her teeth. While she was in the hospital recovering, Rita “watched” us.  But really?  She was rarely around. The truth was we watched her eight year old son eat a jar of peanut butter every day while she was out. I think we were jealous that he could eat whatever he wanted. ANYWAY, after Mom got better and went back to work, she and Rita didn’t get along too well.  Later, a number of years after we moved, we heard that Rita had committed suicide.

THERE WERE NO PROTECTIVE SERVICES BACK THEN!

So somewhere in first grade we moved again. This time my mom rented a small one bedroom bungalow on Elk Street in Glendale, California. Here’s my diagram of the floor plan of this little house. It had a very small closet next to the back door that my mom let Nancy and I turn into our play room. It had shelves in it. I think my mom kept some kitchen stuff on top shelves too, and clothes were in there too. But all our dolls and toys lived there. Except for Dumbo. Aunt Hazel gave me a stuffed elephant named Dumbo. He had huge, soft ears. I slept with him for years. I wish I still had him. (My husband says I got him instead. I think I got the better deal!)

During these years, Uncle Bert and Aunt Hazel were strong supporters of us. We always celebrated holidays together plus went swimming in their pool during the summer. Christmas was always special as they had a white Christmas tree with a light shining on it that kept changing colors. On Christmas Eve we slept there. The little kids always went out to look for Santa Claus. Of course, when we got back, he had already been there and our presents were waiting. My Aunt always read the Christmas story and we sang some Christmas songs together as a family before opening many wonderful, surprising presents. Soft, quiet, memories here. 

This pic of Aunt Hazel and Uncle Bert is from around the time we went to live with them.

I Missed Him, But I Didn't; The Taxi With the Fold-Out Seats, and Uncle Beer

So I lost my father. Daddy was all I ever called him. I missed him but didn’t. I was glad to be gone, and wasn’t. Did my daddy still love me? Isn’t a family supposed to stay together?  I’ve thought about those things for a long time. But my story is really about how God has been able to draw near and father one fatherless child. All along the way God sent many good and kind fathers to me...But I never knew until later that they were sent by Him. Here’s two early photos of me with both my dad and my mom.

The first man to provide some fathering was my Uncle Bert, who met us at the train station with Aunt Hazel. Oh, the hugs were many that day! Both Nancy and I remember the taxi they arranged to help transport us to their house. It had seats that folded out from the car doors for little people (no seat belts back then)! The little seats were more fun to play with than to sit in. We’ve never seen anything like that in any taxi or car again.

Uncle Bert and Aunt Hazel loved us and were especially kind to my mother who had been through so much. But they also talked to us and loved us. Uncle Bert especially liked to tease me, but also gave instruction when I needed it. I called him “Uncle Beer” because he loved beer and peanuts when he came home from work. He thought the name quite funny so of course it stuck. For many years Uncle Beer cared for me as a father does. BUT we only stayed with them for the summer. Our next house was very, very dark. It's the only one I can't draw.

PS: Before we moved, I had the first of dozens of surgeries -- a tonsillectomy. Memories? Ice cream and jello and a bit of throat pain! I remember feeling spoiled. 

Daddy Hung Me Out the Window to See a Scary Fire; Butterflies, Losses, and Three Tickets to California

One afternoon when my dad was home and drunk, there was a fire in the drugstore, three stories below us. My dad wanted me to see the fire so he took me and swung me outside the window. It was a long way to the ground and I thought he was going to drop me. I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see. But I can still remember the butterflies in my stomach. To this day I don’t like heights. After what seemed like a very long time, but was probably only a few moments, I found myself back inside the room and in my mother’s arms. We were both crying.  

I believe there were guardian angels on double duty that afternoon to keep me from falling. I read this to a Sunday school class of young children and they drew pictures of my early life. Here’s a couple pictures of this incident at the window with attending angels.

A couple other sad things happened during these early years. First my Grandma with the twinkle in her eye, who loved me so much, got sick and died. I wondered where she went when she died. My mom said heaven, but no one could tell me about it. Anyway, it made my mother cry for many days. This was the Grandma who was great, great…..granddaughter of Mordecai Lincoln. My grandfather had died when my mother was four. A large crane, at a construction site where he worked, broke and fell on him and killed him.

Also, my aunt and uncle loved us very much. But they decided to move far away to California. They were almost the only ones who visited us and gave me birthday presents. I remember on my fourth birthday they gave me 3 warm pair of slacks (it gets cold in Chicago). Another year, or maybe every year, they gave me a book. I studied and memorized the pictures and could tell the stories. I still have four books from my early years and I still love reading and children's books to this day: The Patchwork Quilt of Favorite Tales, The Littlest Angel, The Wizard of Oz, and The Adventures of Idabell and Wakefield.

So now the nomadic adventures really begin. My mom decided it would be better to move us away from all the screaming, hitting, and fighting. Uncle Bert and Aunt Hazel sent us three train tickets to California to be with them. God was providing a way out.

The three day train ride was fun-- so different than our little apartment. Even though I had just come down with the mumps right before we left, my mother put a scarf around my head and sneaked my sister (who later came down with the mumps too) and I out of the apartment forever and ever. We never saw it again.

Two Attempted Escapes

Then there were the running away episodes. I’ve no idea how old I was the first time, but probably around four or five. My baby sister Nancy had been born. I loved her very much, but it was hard for me to take care of her when my mom wasn’t home. Also, I missed more days of kindergarten than I attended cuz somebody had to stay with Nancy when my mom wasn’t home. And I didn’t know what to do when she cried. One time when she was crying and crying, a neighbor came over and found that she had a diaper pin sticking her. How could I have known? SO I decided it would be better if I wasn’t there since I couldn’t do a very good job of taking care of my sister. AND I hurt when my dad and mom fought. Really hurt for all of us.

The first time I ran away, I found a brown grocery bag and packed a few clothes in it. No one was home and Nancy was sleeping. Now I closed the door behind me and started down the stairs. Remember there were three flights. Well, my mother happened to be coming up the stairs at the same time I was going down. So somewhere along the way, she found me and took hold of me, hugged me and asked me where I was going with my brown paper bag. I don’t remember what I said, just that I cried and she held me. Isn’t it amazing how moms can love there kids so much?

  The second time I ran away I didn’t take anything with me. It was night time and dark outside. I don’t know where Nancy was…. or my parents. I got all the way to the street. I don’t remember if I had any idea where I was going. Just away. When I began to cross the street, a car bumped me. It was a gentle bump, but I still fell over and skinned my knees, arms, and legs. The car didn’t stop. I cried and then decided it was better to go home. So I did. I’m not sure what I told my mom about the bloodied knees when she got home. Maybe I’d washed them up?  But again I believe that Jesus or one of his strong angels pulled me back from that car just enough to protect me from real harm and point me back to home and my loving mom who worked so hard to provide for us and take care of us.

I loved my mom.

She's the reason I kept coming back to the apartment.

This photo is me from graduating from the cradle roll.

It also shows the outside stairs for the apartment we lived in. 

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Another Abraham: This Time Lincoln, and My Great, Great, Great......Grandfather's Murder by Indians

Oh, I forgot another important connection to “Abraham.” Abraham Lincoln the president this time. Abraham Lincoln is my great, great, great….cousin. My great, great, great….grandpa, Mordacai Lincoln, was the oldest brother of Thomas Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln’s father.  President Lincoln had a high opinion of his uncle, and was reported to have said "Uncle Mord had run off with all the talents of the family". 

We have a table, chair and mirror, with real wood nails, that has been handed down over the generations. Our kids used to say Uncle Abe must have looked in that mirror sometimes when he was over visiting his Uncle Mordacai’s family. Below is something I found on Wikipedia reported as “one of the most profound stories of President Abraham Lincoln's memory.” Thomas, Mordecai, and their brother Josiah witnessed the murder of their father by Native American Indians in May of 1786: 

“While Abraham Lincoln and his three boys, Mordecai, Josiah and Thomas, were planting a cornfield on their new property, Indians attacked them. Abraham was killed instantly. Mordecai, at fifteen the oldest son, sent Josiah running to the settlement half a mile away for help while he raced to a nearby cabin. Peering out of a crack between logs, he saw an Indian sneaking out of the forest toward his eight-year-old brother, Thomas, who was still sitting in the field beside their father's body. Mordecai picked up a rifle, aimed for a silver pendant on the Indian's chest, and killed him before he reached the boy." 

         Below are some photos of the family table, mirror and chair. I love the intricate carving all over, especially the top and legs. The mirror can be hung, but ours is leaning against the wall on the table. We had the chair reupholstered about 20 years ago, trying to match the fabric to the original.