Vanessa

From pre 1960 to 1964 we lived just outside Chicago in a town called Evanston. We rented the lower floor of a huge house. 

I started school at Oakton Elementary School and recall walking to school. It wasn't far I guess from where we rented lived. 

Apparently I liked Kindergarten. I know I went to school there until 3rd grade when we moved to Northbrook.

It was in that Evanston house that I met Vanessa. She was hired by the upstairs landlord to be a housekeeper I think. I'm not exactly sure. All I know, is that she was there weekly in our house. 

She was black and I went to school with black kids. Though, at the time, none of that really mattered much to a kid my age.

Vanessa was like having a cool Auntie around the house. She always took time with us. She would be there and then not there. 

My school was black and white also, but I'm not even sure that I noticed. 

My young life was all about school, staying out of trouble with mom, and playing.

The crabby man next door liked to yell at us if we played to close to his house or if we stepped on his lawn.

There was the lonely lady right across the street. We would go visit her and have juice and treats. Once a huge storm toppled a tree in her back yard and she let us come over and climb all over it until the tree trimmers came to clean it up.

She had neat juice glasses with bunnies on it. 

I know my life at the time was busy and confusing. I had to have eye surgery. I was constantly causing a ruckus at school. I was a little rebel of sorts.

At one point in time my mom disappeared for a while. We were told she was sick and in the hospital. 

All I know is that Vanessa stepped in and took care of us.

I think she came during the day and got us off to school. She prepared breakfasts for us and was there to feed us supper. I don't really recall much about it. Just that she was there and full of love while the other adults were busy.

I do recall her making Fried Bologna Sandwiches for lunch one day. It was the most divine sandwich ever! It smoked up the house.

Her oatmeal sucked. But then we had to instruct her how mom would make it. We found it completely odd that Vanessa didn't know how to make oatmeal. I recall we told her she had to put some salt in the water. We ended up with some vile tasting oatmeal. It didn't matter. We laughed about it and off to school we went with lunches packed by Vanessa.

Vanessa was free with hugs and had an endless patience for 3 kids. 

One day my parents announced that we were moving. The new place we were renting was out in the country. Mom and Dad had taken us to several places they'd looked at. I was hoping they had picked a place where we could have a pony.

It was in a small town called Northbrook. Indeed the street we would live on had a farm house across the street and fields behind it.

Vanessa came to help us clean and move our items.

Vanessa worked all day scrubbing and cleaning as we moved in. I was so happy to have her around. I would take any opportunity possible to take her hand and receive a loving embrace. She had gazillions of warm hugs.

Done.

We had moved in.

At the end of the day we had to take Vanessa back home. We piled into our car and took a long drive to somewhere deep in Chicago. We pulled up in front of a rather dull looking bunch of buildings and Vanessa gathered her things. 

I'd been sitting in the back seat with her and played with her shiny pin that she always wore. 

As my parents talked with Vanessa, I realized that she wouldn't be seeing us any more. 

This was the end. I was horrified and threw a fit. I cried and clung to her. Vanessa consoled me. Why couldn't she still be in our lives?

Why couldn't she just live with us?

Vanessa shocked me then. She quietly explained that she did have a family and children of her own that lived in the housing complex we were at.  

I was stunned. How could she have a family. We were her family. 

Vanessa untangled herself from me and pulled her shiny pin off from her jacket.

"Here, to remember me by." 

Tears blurred my eyes as I watched her walk away and out of my life.

I clutched the pin.

I implored my parents to let Vanessa and her family to come live with us.

It wasn't possible they said.

And Vanessa couldn't take the bus to our house anymore because we had moved so far away.

I was crushed.

I asked my parents if I could go live with Vanessa.

A resounding ... No.

I have never forgotten Vanessa. I may have forgotten the names of children I played with, I may have forgotten so many things.

But I have never forgotten Vanessa.

And when I see a pin like the one above, I can't help but to think about that night when Vanessa pulled the pin off her jacket and handed it to me in the back seat of my parents' car.

As I child I never understood why Vanessa had to live with her family in public housing and we could live in a nice house nearly out in the country. Oh for the innocence of being a young child.

Vanessa made such an impression on my life that I don't think I could ever forget her.

Visiting Memory Lane

You see, I haven't changed much. I'm pretty sure that my country summers influenced my entire life.

I became one of those people who preferred the outdoors and animals to anything city related.

I can't even recall where my father took this shot. I was 4 years old and someone in our family must have gotten some ducks or geese.

I discovered farm animals.

Lost in archives are photos of me and then years later, photos of my own children feeding calves at my Uncle Fred's dairy farm. 
Going to the dairy farm and staying with the 'girl' cousins was one adventure after another.

I thought they had it the coolest. They had no indoor plumbing. They had a real honest to goodness outhouse and other small outbuildings that were a delight to play in.

[My Outhouse]

What did I have? A small house with all the nice things like plumbing, running hot water,...and a tiny yard.

I envied them, they had woods to play in, a barn to play in.
I'm sure that I didn't know what life was really like on a small dairy farm, but I was to get an inkling of that much later in life when I actually worked for a while on one.

And...they had Santa Claus visit their house on Christmas Eve. [I didn't know at the time that Uncle Fred played Santa.] I mean, as a kid I was so envious of their life.

Of course I never had to use a chamber pot or use the outhouse in the dead of winter. I never had to help with chores in any real sense. My Aunt and Uncle would allow us to be in the barn and I recalled the wonderful smells of the silage and hay. The satisfied munching of the dairy cows and the milking machines.

I learned to use a milking machine much later in life, I helped on a dairy and would get the cows in, lock them in their stanchions and get everything ready for the morning milking. I learned to wash the bulk tank and other helpful chores.
Washing teats, dipping teats, scrapping the floor and liming the floor, cleaning the barn.... I think I enjoyed that because it reminded me of being in my cousin's dairy barn.

To me, my cousins had endless fields of corn to play in and an incredible pasture and woods. 

We girls would concoct an adventure for our summer days together. We'd play 'house' or go wandering the cow pasture. We built forts one time after a huge wind/rain storm. We had a downed tree that we decided was going to be our fort. I think we spent more time scrambling and climbing it that we did building anything.

There was a place where we would hunt rocks. And always, we'd talk and chatter. 
With a little bit of imagination we could be anyone and do anything. Our days were endless.
Well it seemed that way.

Last weekend I got to go back. We drove past my Uncle and Aunt's farm to get to my youngest cousin's Sugar Bush and see her and her husband's set up.
I wanted to pull in to their driveway and walk around seeking more fond memories and see what had changed.

Instead I got a tour of the Sugar Bush.

This was another new experience for me. My country families made maple syrup and have I think for three generations. 

At the end of summer I'd go back to the city. I'd marvel at the fact that we had hot water and flush toilets. And then I'd settle in for the school year and await June.

That is when I could go back to where I was sure I belonged.
I never could convince my mom to give me to one of my Aunts.

Now that I've been back for a short weekend, I yearn to return and visit again.

When I turned the Subaru towards home I promised myself that I would return.
After all, the 4 quarts of Maple Syrup I'd purchased would be long gone before summer was over.

And I wasn't going to let years and years pass before we all saw each other again.