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05/06/2023 3:36 pm
A TIME ONCE VISITED
Today is June 4, 2023 and Seventy-one year old me went back in time today.
My mental time machine was set for June 4, 1960. I was 8 years old, it was an over-cast sky Saturday at 9:00am. That was the time scheduled for Dad to pick us up. It was the last time I would set foot in the house my sisters Diana and Beverly were getting picked-up from. Holding tight to the grocery bag that carried our clothes, I'm sure each of us shared our own individual emotions. All we were told was we were going to live with Dad.
Okay a little back story...
After 8 1/2 years of being married, my Dad left in September 1959 for the last time. There had been two other times that he'd left, but both times he'd come back. Not this time! In January 1960 the divorce was final. The reasons for the failing of the marriage are plenty, so let's just say the final straw was the 3rd child that was the result of my mothers extra-curricular activities.
There were a total of six kids by 1959, but three of them were alleged to NOT be my Dad's. Being the oldest of the litter, I might have been the only one to understand that that was likely a good reason to break-up any home. As I said, there were other reasons, but I'm thinking this was the big one.
Now the next part of this gets a little tricky, because one of the three kids that wasn't my Dad's (Steve) who was born in May 1958 was the one my mother took out the most wrath on. She literally tried to starve him to death. I'm not kidding! Up until March of 1960, she kept him in his crib in a room with a window open. She didn't feed him, didn't change his diapers, and seldom checked in on him. I would sneak food in to him at the risk of punishment. When I would get caught sneaking a cookie or whatever I could find, I'd be hit with a wooden board about the length of a yardstick. And then, if that wasn't enough, I'd be put in a bedroom closet and forced to sleep on the floor. I knew enough to not resist, as doing so would result in further whacks of that wooden board.
After their divorce, Dad would have Sunday visitation rights, so he'd pick-up me and my sisters. To keep the record straight, at this time Steve was believed to be my Dad's, but there was considerable doubt with that belief. When visitation day came, we'd go with Dad, but no Steve. **Okay side note. Any future reference to my mother, she will hence be called June (her given name), as calling her my mother is more respect than I can afford her**.
Now back to that "no Steve" on Sunday visitation. June would say that he was, "Sick! He's always sick". One Sunday while driving with Dad, he asked me what was wrong with Steve, I told him, "She's not feeding him and he's very weak". Thankfully Dad took action. Calling Child Services, and through his attorney, Steve was taken to Gillette Children's Hospital, where he was diagnosed with sever malnutrition. He was underweight and remained in the hospital for a full year.
I'm back in the present again, the present of June 4, 1960 that is. When we got in the car with Dad that morning, we were all of the understanding that we were going to "live with him". We found out quickly, that was not the case at all. You see, Dad didn't have a home or apartment of his own. Diana was going to live with Dad's brother, Len (and his family), and Beverly was going to live with Len's neighbor (and their family). But wait, what about me?
Dad and I drove over to the other side of town (the Midway area) and I was told I was going to stay with the Kenny family. Who? I didn't know any Kenny family! I was filled in that John Kenny was a guy my Dad worked with at Hamm's Brewery. But Dad, "I don't want to stay with this family, I want to stay with you". That's when I was informed again, that Dad didn't have a place of his own. Where did he live you might wonder? Well as it turned out, he was renting a bedroom in house of a family of another guy he worked with. ONLY A BEDROOM! He had a bed, a small TV, a small table, and one chair. That was it!
So being left at the Kenny's, let's just say I was intimidated. They had three kids, a girl (I don't remember her age), and two boys, one younger than me and the other two years older than me. I don't remember Mrs. Kenny's first name and honestly, I don't remember any of the kids names. When Dad drove away after dropping me off, I don't recall that I've ever felt more alone and scared before or since. The oldest of the Kenny boys, decided that I shouldn't be there and told me just that.
This foster home situation could go on forever, but then so could this story, so I'll hit the accelerator a little. After only a few months, John Kenny told my Dad that I was causing friction in "his family" and that Dad would have to find another place for me to live. The second foster home was found through Catholic Charities, but it was worse than the Kenny's, as the daughter in this family would do things wrong, then blame me. The family (their name was Potter) would yell at me, make me go to my room, and continually inform my Dad that I was a problem child. None of it was true, except Dad seemed to believe the stories they were telling him. Then one night he sat me on his lap and told me that unless I "start behaving", he was going to have to send me to a home for unruly boys, run by a priest named Father Marhar. As I cried and told him I wasn't doing anything wrong, he just reminded me that he has no place else to take me, so I either shape up or Father Marhar here I come.
Just a few days later, Dad was informed by the Potter's that they wanted me gone! Not sure of the behind the scenes scrambling that was going on, but eventually Dad found a place for me, with still another family. There was a mom and a dad and one son, Ricky. He was 6 years old. I liked him and we got along good. Ricky's parents were Dom and Dorothy and I felt comfortable with them. They did things together. We ate meals together, went to events like the circus, the ice-capades, the State Fair, and many other family things. They even signed me up to be a Cub Scout. I liked this family so much.
There is an old saying that "People can be led in to a false sense of security", and living with Dom, Dorothy, and Ricky turned out to be exactly that, "a false sense of security".
Another little back story...
When my parents separated and got divorced, I saw it coming. And when it finally happened, I was actually relieved, because now they weren't fighting anymore. But in the case of Dom and Dorothy, they appeared to get along, they never raised their voices, they never fought. Then out of nowhere, and I do mean out of nowhere, they were getting a divorce. Dom moved out, as it was revealed that Dorothy had been having an extra-marital affair. My Dad was informed that I had to leave their house. I was confused and angry!
Eventually, Dad decided he'd use his G.I. Bill from the army to assist him in buying a house. This was good news because me and my siblings would finally live with him. This is another long story, that I'm going to make short, because it really is too long to cover in this "Coffee Talk". Dad got the house, we moved in, and (long story short) I became the babysitter of my siblings. Dad took on two (and sometimes even three) jobs to avoid being home. Fact was, he couldn't and wouldn't deal with any conflict or controversary, so if he wasn't there, he didn't have to handle it.
School kids found out we didn't have a mother, and kids can be mean sometimes, and mean they were. I was told that "I was so ugly, even my mother didn't want me". Wearing glasses, I was made fun of for that too. The years until high school graduation (that's another time machine trip back to June 5, 1970 for another time) were not the most happy ones.
As I've reflected on June 4th today, it's brought both sadness and happiness. Why? Because after high school graduation, I set personal improvement goals that were going to make my world right. I succeeded completely. Okay, my opinion, but I think those that know me, know I'm not bragging.
As this time machine trip brings me back to the present, I smile. I've been a success! I've got a beautiful wife of nearly 50 years, two incredible daughters, two granddaughters and I'm enjoying retirement in the world we call "our home". Whew! These time trips can be taxing, but they keep me grounded and I'm not afraid to admit, I'm proud of who I am and what I became. I've been blessed!
Mistreating us as June did, I'll readily say that she failed as a mother. But that said, in her own way, she taught me how I'd never want to be as a parent. She was a role-model, not a good one, but a role-model none the less. Long ago I forgave her for abandoning us and for her transgressions. I'd not be in a happy place today, had I harbored anger and resentment towards her. She passed away over a decade ago, all alone. I pray she is at peace.
My Dad did the best he could with the limited faculties he had at his disposal when he took us from June. I've nothing but respect for him. He left me in 1981 at the young age of 55. I've always hoped he knew how much I appreciated his sacrifices.
This folks wasn't a cup of coffee, it was the whole dang pot! 
This Coffee Talk is numbered "63" because it is 63 years ago today that this "Time I Once Visited" took place.
George Schire
Oakdale, Minnesota
Pete Rovero and John Napoli reacted
05/06/2023 4:22 pm
George, what a very sad story. But in the end you prevailed. You did not mention your sisters and how they are at the end. But I hope you all get along and enjoy each others company.
Topic starter
05/06/2023 4:36 pm
George, what a very sad story. But in the end you prevailed. You did not mention your sisters and how they are at the end. But I hope you all get along and enjoy each others company.
Thank you John. Sadly, my sisters and brother weren't able to separate their past from their future. They all made the same mistakes our mother did, so the cycle continued. And sadly also, we don't have the best of relationships as adults. They live in a "victim" mentality, so they don't move forward. They attach a lot of blame on their past for all the woes they've endured as adults.
George Schire
Oakdale, Minnesota
John Napoli reacted
05/06/2023 6:33 pm
George, what a sad and terrifying early life that you had. You must have an amazing self concept, fortitude and resilience to have been able to move forward and have a strong life and marriage despite it all. Your father did his best, I think, to help you and your siblings. I’m sorry that he died so young.
You have obviously moved forward and cast behind you the victim syndrome. I wish that your siblings had been able to do likewise. All the very best to you. Yours was not an easy story to share.
John Napoli and George Schire reacted
Topic starter
05/06/2023 9:57 pm
Thank you! I've found over the decades that for me, it's always helped me to cope by sharing and talking about where I've been and what I've done. No one's life is perfect and we're all dealt different cards in life, but it's how we play those cards that can make us or break us. And not saying it's easy for everyone, but I've always believed that as long as I never give up, anything is possible.
George Schire
Oakdale, Minnesota