Summertime, the windows open...dark outside, the hummm of the attic fan that rocked me to sleep everynight. My daddy, Nanny and Daddy Jack asleep just a few rooms away. That was the bliss. That secure, conforting, loving feeling that I had there at home. At my real home. I wonder if I thought about Jane much at that time. Probably not cause I was happy! The next 5 years would be the best in my whole life. My Nanny was the best thing that ever happened to me. She was very much in charge of the house, and everyone in it. Yet she commanded the ship with a soft, gentle hand that made everyone want to do just exactly as she wished. She was loved. Even then as a child I knew that this woman wanted to, and almost always succeeded in doing the very best that she could for her family, especially her two little granddaughters. She was homeroom mother, something in the PTA. Brownie leader, Girl Scout leader. The best birthday party organizer and the best cookie maker on the block. If my sister and I were involved, so was my Nanny. I remember the Halloween parties, the Brownie and Girl Scout meetings. All my bestest friends spending the night and Nanny popping popcorn and letting us have pop to drink. I remember when we went to the grocery store she would buy us pudding and pizza just because "we were good". I'm sorry, when I get off on my Nanny I could just stay there and dwell in the love I still feel for that precious lady that has been dead for 23 years. I have so many wonderful memories of that 5 years, and I know that most of you have been heartbroken over some of the things that have happened to me, and please know that I love you so much because of that, but, as you read future blogs I want you to remember that I did have some good years. Some very happy times.
My sister and I NEVER got spankins, we got "scouldings". But before I say another word I want you to sincerely know that my sister and I were very well behaved children. Nanny had a way about her that taught my sister and I the important things in life without raising a hand, or her voice to us. I do remember one time, when that sense of it all was broken.
I wasn't allowed to ride my bicycle in the street, only on the sidewalk which on my street was sufficient. One day I was let to go down the block, on the sidewalk to the little grocery store. I rode, on the sidewalk all the way down there, but, *big sigh*, when I got down there I thought I would be sneaky and get my bike out on the street just to see what it felt like. Mistake. I was riding in the street when I looked down the block and there was my Daddy Jack standing on the corner watching me. "Oh Dear God, please help me run away from home"! No such luck, God was waiting there with my grandpa to smite me hip and thigh. And that is exactly what happened. My grandpa took me into his bedroom, explained to me again why I wasn't allowed to ride in the street, told me how much he loved me, and then bent me over his knee. He spanked me! Well, my heart was broken....but mine wasn't the only one because when it was over Daddy Jack wasn't in the house, he was out in the back yard...crying. I had never seen him cry before. I ran out the back door, wrapped my arms around him and told him how sorry I was. He said he was sorry too.
It was the big day, the day we had been waiting for, for some time. It was time to leave for our Girl Scout camping trip. 2 whole weeks of fun in the sun. When we got there I couldn't believe my eyes!! There were cabins everywhere, a lake with a slide, diving board and dock....fire pits and butterflies....there were butterflies everywhere! Those 2 weeks were filled with fun. Skits, dances, movies, story telling, swimming. I was 9 years old, and I was in Heaven, so I thought. The days flew by and before I wanted it over, it was. Girls were running everywhere, saying their goodbye's, gathering up last minute things. My sister and I were doing the same thing, when, "Brenda, there's daddy, daddy's here!", "Who is that?", "Brenda who is that woman with daddy?.....Who is she??"