Seven Children, Shared Adventures, and Sisterly Mischief

My very earliest memory was of Carol falling down in Virginia’s garden and cutting her knee deeply. All of us girls were there, including the McFarland girls. When we saw the blood, we started screaming. We were in a strawberry patch, and I remember thinking that a big strawberry was a chunk of Carol’s knee. I went screaming home and remember Carol being taken to the hospital by Virginia. Another early memory is Carol’s babysitting of me, Dee, and Barb. Dee decided it would be a good idea to write our names on the garage with a piece of charcoal. Barb and I joined in, and when Carol found us, she treated us with the threat of a big spanking by Daddy when he got home. This displeased us enough that we started throwing rocks and even a brick at her as she stood on the back porch. When Daddy got home, we got the promised spanking. It was one of the few any of us ever received. He lined all three of us up in our little living room and then made us clean the garage. One of my saddest memories was of Mom lying sick in her front bedroom with pneumonia. The doctor would come to visit and tell her she had to stay in bed. She looked so pale and was so rarely sick in bed that it scared me to death. I thought she might die. I’d sit next to her for reassurance. This had to be an early memory, because she was still sleeping in the front bedroom with only the curtain at the door. The room was big enough only for a bed and a dresser. At some point, they took down the wall between the living and bedroom to make a bigger living room, and even then, it is, to this day, a fairly small room. Before this change, I remember that Barb and I would sleep on a hideaway couch. So, we really had no room of our own. This also had to be before Daddy added on the two bedrooms and bathroom, because we had only an outhouse then. I can still remember it vividly and also how elated we were when the new bathroom was added on. Before that happened, Mom would put two big aluminum tubs in the kitchen, heat water on the stove, and we’d take our baths in those tubs on Saturday night. Later, after the addition, we’d use those same tubs outside to play in on hot summer days. I remember how we liked to play in the rain on warm summer days. We were allowed to put on bathing suits and run out into the rain. If we saw or heard lightning we were ordered to get into the house immediately. I also remember playing on an Army blanket in the front yard in the shade of a tree with my sisters and neighbor friends. We would sit for hours and play with our dolls or paper dolls. Sometimes we had real paper dolls and sometimes we’d cut clothes out of the Sears catalog. Most of our childhood we played out in the yard. If we drifted too far from home, someone would call us home from the front porch by hollering our name at the top of their lungs until we came home. We all played together a lot. A favorite activity was jumping rope, and as I think about it, I’m sort of surprised that I could keep up with that so well. We used big ropes and played in the street, and would compete with each other. We had favorite rhymes to sing as we jumped. If we weren’t jumping rope, we might be playing Jacks or Hop Scotch. Sometimes in the summer, we’d sit on the sidewalk or porch and play. In the winter, we played on the kitchen floor. At school, there were Jacks contests. We played during recess. Once, in 6th grade, I won some kind of ribbon. Another early memory was playing Ring Around The Rosie and Drop The Hankie in grade school. My first day of school, I cried so hard that Mom had to stay with me. I can vividly remember the kindergarten room and my nap rug. Every year at school, the nurse checked us for ringworm and also probably head lice. She used some kind of special colored lamp to look. I think Bob and Bernie caught it and had to wear a cap made from a nylon stocking on their heads. I have few early memories of living with Iris in the house. I was six when she got married. I do remember her propping us up on a kitchen counter and cutting our hair, especially the night before school pictures. We always hated it because she cut our bangs too short. I have more memories of Bernie. One time, I got in trouble for walking on Mom’s wet kitchen floor, so she put me in the corner on a chair and started waxing the floor. I felt trapped. I was really mad. When Bernie came home I started crying and tattled on Mom to him. I was crying so hard he picked me up and saved me. When Bernie was still at home, we had a 45 record player on a stand in the hall. We’d put on a stack of records and listen to them over and over. Bernie played operettas and Mario Lanza. The girls played Johnny Mathis and Elvis. The 12th of Never by Johnny Mathis was my favorite. My memories of Bob make me feel sorry for him. He had to carry his four younger sisters to school when he got a car. We were always late or fighting about clothes. In hindsight, this must have been real torture for him to be the only boy, with four younger sisters. By then Bernie had moved to Chicago. I remember Bob playing with Billy Johnson. One winter, the two of them built an igloo in the garden lot between our houses. It seemed they worked on it for days. The Moline Daily Dispatch put a picture of the igloo in the paper. This igloo adventure caused a lot of excitement. I’ve already related a lot of Carol memories. As we got older, she continued to play a big role in my growing-up years. As the oldest sister of the remaining kids at home, she had a lot of authority over and responsibility for us. Because she was older and had jobs, she bought new and pretty clothes that we coveted. We’d sneak her clothes and hide them under our coats. She had wonderful sweaters especially, and she’d yell at us if and when she found out we were wearing them. Also, she was old enough to buy True Story magazine. These were marginal soft porn. She’d hide them under the tub. We’d sneak and read them, of course. She was also a big leader of the Peppy Steppers 4-H Club. In some ways, she was like a second mother. I can still remember her leading the meetings at Mrs. Holder’s house. One year, Carol and I both won a trip to the State Fair by doing demonstrations at our local county fair. I made a coffee cake. I secretly believed for years that they rigged the competition for me to win so Carol could take care of me at the State Fair. She took me on a Double Ferris Wheel, bought me cotton candy, wouldn’t let me sleep in the top bunk, and tried to get me to hold a baby pig. She wouldn’t let me play too many sideshow games. She told me they were “rigged.” My memories of Dee are as a sweet playmate. I remember how she loved to play Canasta and 500 Rummy. We’d sit at a card table in the basement on hot summer days and drink Kool-Aid and play cards. In our teen years we’d all pile into Carol’s car and go to the Milan drive-in. Carol would make a popper full of corn and Dee would hide under the army blanket in the back seat to get in for free. I always admired Dee’s ability to make her ice cream last. On Saturday nights Daddy would drive us to Roselles. We’d get strawberry cones with fortunes in the bottom. When we played, Dee was the peacekeeper. As soon as a fight broke out, you would see Dee heading for home. When she went to beauty school I was her first customer. As much as I love, trusted, and adored her, she still wrecked my hair! Daddy used to take us to Stardust Carnival. It was a permanent little carnival on 23rd Avenue. Our favorite ride was the Tilt-A- Whirl. Sometimes, Daddy would also take us to the drag races on Saturday night. Barbara and I were littermates. We shared the same bed, and eventually the same room until we left home. We probably did most everything together. I think, looking back, that I probably tortured Barb a lot. First, by being sick and hogging the attention, then, by terrorizing her at night by pretending I was a witch. We fought a lot, but mostly had a childhood filled with long, warm easy days of play in a safe environment with Mom always present and plenty of sisters to serve as stepmoms. Because we were the last of seven, there was more financial security and Daddy had mellowed into a grandfatherly way. Every Sunday night we would make fried egg sandwiches and put them on soft white bread with catsup and dill pickles. We laid on a blanket in front of the TV and watched Lassie Come Home—one of our favorite shows. We made prank phone calls together. We got in trouble for calling Ruth Reichenberg and telling her that her daughter Carolyn was under suspicion for some crime. Barb was pounding on the typewriter in the background. Somehow, Ruth suspected us and we eventually got caught. But my favorite Barb memory was the time that she, Kent Reichenberg, and I were playing Show and Tell in the orchard in a cement sewer pipe. Bernie caught us and told us if he ever caught us doing that again he’d tell Mom. That night at dinner we were frozen with fear. It was Barb’s idea to play this game. Barb and I would use Carol’s car. Sometimes we’d sneak it. One time, I forgot to put the emergency brake on when I parked in front of my girlfriend Mary Dumase’s house. The car rolled down the hill, swerved and went into the neighbor’s yard and was stopped by a tree. Amazingly, no dent. I never told. When I was in high school, I was an overachiever and got straight A’s. I’d stay up late studying and Barb suffered the consequences. I’d have Mom awaken me early to study and drill me. She’d be packing lunches, smoking cigarettes, and drinking coffee. I could never get my hair right, so I’d be the first to get up and use the one bathroom. Mom used to say I was a piddler. We took turns in the bathroom on school days. If we missed our turn, we were out of luck. Daddy ended up using the men’s room at the filling station sometimes, because with four girls in the house he could never get his turn. I remember how all of us helped with the garden. Our summer life revolved around it. First, Grandpa Williams, when he was alive, did most of the work. Then, Mom would can it all. We girls would shell peas by the hour, husk popcorn ’til our fingers got sore, and pit cherries. I realize, now, how much I loved the comfort of having all this family around me. Mom never complained about being tired or overworked, so most of these family memories are ones of sweetness and warm feelings and fun. In our high school year, all four girls would pick and shine tomatoes. Daddy would take us to the produce department of the store to sell them. He told us to put the biggest and best ones on the top. We’d save our money in separate containers in the kitchen. Dee always accumulated the most and held on to it the longest. When I went to college, Carol, Mom and Daddy drove me down. After we unpacked and got me settled in my dorm room, they drove me to the gymnasium. I didn’t want to get out of the car. Daddy said, “You don’t have to get out, Dolly. Come home and go to Moline Public Hospital’s Nursing School.” Mom turned around and said, “No, you have to get out.” Carol was crying and said, “Don’t go. Don’t go.” I got out. I was scared to death. After the first week of school, I realized I couldn’t make the long walk from my dorm to the school of nursing. I called home and told Mom I had to have a car. In hindsight, I was really amazingly presumptive in this request. A few weeks later, Iris and Bill presented me with a 1954 blue Ford. I named it Tillie the Toiler. It ran perfectly for four years. The last week of school it stalled. It took me fifty cents worth of gas to drive it and that’s how much I’d pump. If I hadn’t had this car, I could never have stayed in school. I hope I’ve thanked Iris and Bill for this and, if not, I do now. Carol tells me today that Daddy went to Bill and asked if he would buy a car for Diana. This must have been hard. I have an earlier memory of Daddy being on strike from John Deere & Company. I remember he was supposed to go back, but settlement talks failed. Mom told Daddy she didn’t have money for groceries. I overheard this conversation. I took five silver dollars I’d received as gifts in the hospital and tried to give them to Mom. She said, “You keep these, honey. We’ll be okay.” That same day, Iris drove up in her station wagon. It was full of bags of groceries. She started lugging them in, one after the other. I was so relieved. Mom just stood and cried. My college days were hard. In hindsight, I should have relaxed and had more fun. I was too compulsive and fear-based. I had a vocational rehabilitation scholarship and had to keep high grades. The nursing program required the most time of a major, and so I was relieved to graduate. My first college roommate was a nightmare. She smoked cigars and went to bed at 10 p.m. with earplugs and an eye mask. She was pretty scary. One of my best friends was Martha Kawada, a Japanese girl from New York. I still love going back to visit the Illinois Wesleyan campus when I visit Barb. It’s pretty. In high school I was ashamed of our house. Daddy left junk in the yard. I decided to beautify it by planting a flower garden. Daddy dug up a big one behind the garage with a rotor tiller. I got starts of perennials from Mrs. Rohrer, our neighbor, whose house had been, at one time, a rabbit hutch. I bought the evergreen tree starts in the Sunday supplement for one dollar. Daddy told me not to. When they came, they were small as toothpicks. I felt like a fool. I planted them, and almost every one grew, and some are still in Dee’s yard. The garden was really pretty. I still like to garden to this day. I just don’t enjoy it as much in the Florida heat. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned going to the water works with Daddy when our well ran dry. He had a water tank rigged on a flatbed trailer, and we’d go to the water works together when he got home from work. It would take an hour to fill the tank. We’d come home and he’d transfer it to the well. I’m still pretty conscious of wasting resources today, probably because of these early hardships. Neighbors would also come over with wagons and share the water. Well, I’m sure I could just continue to reminisce and go on and on. Overall, even though there were painful and scary moments growing up, my experience of it was mostly one of laughter, warmth, and excitement. Our family is amazingly exceptional in the way we each became successful in our own unique ways. But moreover, we are exceptional in the way we have maintained a loving and supportive role in each other’s lives. We have all shared our moments of glory and beauty and our moments of pain and sorrow. So, even though being raised in a family of seven required sacrifice, we have all been doubly blessed by the intensity of our love and devotion to one another.