- Annie Arrives
On Friday, February 9, 1951 society bandleader and pianist Eddie Duchin died in New York City. My mother kept the newspaper clipping in her jewelry box for years. I didn’t know why. Years later I found it, turned it over and discovered the small obituary for Benjamin Silverman, my father. The following Saturday, February 17, 1951 was the occasion of my brother Harry’s Bar Mitzvah. All of us had hoped that Daddy would be able to attend, but his condition suddenly worsened and he died. Thus, began a period of mourning and sadness that continued for years and affected all of us, especially my brother Harry, the “bar mitzvah boy.”
Mother had taken the role of manager/owner of the family business for the years of Father’s illness. She employed a number of practical nurses to take care of Daddy and a housekeeper to take care of the housework and cooking for the rest of us. Our housekeeper and nurse were like members of the family and the combination provided all of the care that our family needed.
Now that Daddy had passed, Helen the nurse moved on to her next job. We would all miss her but her level of expertise was no longer necessary. Unfortunately, at the same time the latest housekeeper left for a higher paying job, and we needed someone to take care of the house and us too after school. Mother decided that a new person should be a “live-in maid” who could live in the middle bedroom upstairs.
Mother placed an ad in the newspaper for a maid who would be willing to live with us, clean house and cook while Mother conducted the family business.
In 1951, many African-American women were migrating up north from various southern states. Mother received more than 10 phone calls from interested applicants. Over the next few weeks Mother interviewed each of the women. She was exhausted from managing the store, then coming home for another full day’s work in the house. A number of interviews were set up in the evenings and on the next few weekends. Mother did not feel comfortable with any of the applicants, as house cleaners or as child care people.
Next door to Mother’s dress shop was a store-front church presided over by a woman pastor. The church was called a “holy roller” congregation and Pastor Greene was a loving old friend of my parents. The congregation prayed hard for Daddy throughout his long illness, and after his death prayed for Mother and us boys.
Mother asked the Pastor Greene if she of knew a woman who could clean, cook and take care of us boys, living with us and our collie, Nikki. This was a tall order, and had resulted so far with no successful applicants. Pastor Greene beamed, announcing that she knew the perfect person, a woman just up from North Carolina, who was currently living in a small apartment with her son in North Philadelphia. A number of the congregation members were her relatives, and would vouch for her abilities and her honesty.
Pastor agreed to arrange a meeting between Mother and Annie Wise the very next Sunday after church.
Sunday came and all three of us plus the dog piled into our old Chrysler, to meet and interview Annie at the church next door to the store.
Services were over and only the Pastor and Annie were still in the building. We entered and were introduced, and we shook hands with Annie, including Nikki, the dog.
Annie was a round dark-skinned woman dressed in her “Sunday Best”, a spotless starched white dress, a white hat and white oxford lace-up shoes, in sharp contrast to her tightly braided black and gray hair. Everything about Annie was plump, her face, her arms, her hands, her body and her legs down to her feet.
We were nervous about the meeting, but Annie was relaxed, confident, and happy. It was “love at first sight” for all of us. We piled into the car and headed home. Annie’s son would bring her belongings later that day.
I enthusiastically guided Annie through the house starting in the basement through the rooms of the first floor, then up to the second floor to her room in the middle at the top of the stairs between Mother’s room and our room, Harry’s and mine.
Back into what would from now on be called her kitchen, Annie surveyed the Frigidaire shelves to determine what she might cook for dinner. She took out four potatoes, a bag of string beans and a wrapped whole chicken. She shooed us all out of her kitchen, put on an apron and began to prepare our dinner. An hour later Annie called Mother, Harry and me.
Soup’s on!!
The light was on in the breakfast room, our dinette, and the table was set with cloth napkins and complete silver place settings. We entered from our dining room to an odor all buttery and crispy fried. Annie brought a large platter of fried chicken pieces plus bowls of string beans and creamy-white mashed potatoes. Last came a gravy boat filled with golden chicken gravy to top it all.
You can all serve yourselves. I hope you enjoy your first meal by Annie.
The chicken was crispy, salted and peppered, just right. The beans were perfectly cooked and the mashed potatoes were soft billowy meringue-like peaks with veins of butter. Deelicious!
Annie ate her dinner at the porcelain over tin work table in the kitchen, spotlessly clean of the cooking bowls and the knives and spoons. Nikki was treated to his usual Kennel Ration mixed with Gaines Meal, enhanced by chicken gravy in his bowl by the back door.
I asked Annie why she didn’t eat with us in the dinette.
No, No Mister Michael. It wouldn’t be fittin’. I’m the cook and you’re the “boss family”.
I hope you like my southern cooking though. I eat a lot of it. Don’t I look it?
She laughed and so did we all.
We ate and ate until we were stuffed, but dinner was not over. Dessert was served, a scrumptious double crust apple pie, though Annie apologized for the crust. Usually she used lard, but all she had available in the house was Crisco. Lard was unknown to us. The pie crust was light, and simply the best.
Then we were beyond full.
A few hours later we got ready for bed. Harry and I washed up and put on our pajamas, Mother washed in her own bathroom and put on her night gown and quilted bathrobe. Annie prepared herself in the privacy of her middle bedroom and waited until our lights went out to carry her toiletry case into the hall bathroom to wash up for bed. We heard the springs of her bed strain and creak as she settled in for the night.
Because I was afraid of the dark, except for the hallway light, the house was dark, and we were all happily together at home for years to come.
- Home Remedies Cure Allergies
I was a sickly kid, scrawny and allergic to everything from birth. In my first three years I was often rushed to the hospital with convulsions from one or another allergic reaction. My pediatrician located an allergy specialist who believed he could treat me and end the frequent hospital emergencies. The specialist was Dr. Leopold who gave me weekly shots of anti-allergic sulfa drugs. Six painful shots, three in each of my skinny arms that traumatized me and brought me to tears at every visit. Mother too was traumatized by my suffering, but what could she do? The shots were successful and we no longer needed the emergency room panics.
When I was eight, and still going for my weekly shots, Annie arrived and became a member of our family. She comforted both Mother and me after every allergy visit, but was losing patience with our weekly torture.
One evening after dinner she sat with Mother to discuss alternative treatments for my allergies. She had a vast knowledge of natural home remedies handed down to her from her mother, her grandmother and earlier African ancestors. Mother was skeptical, especially since for years Dr. Leopold’s shots were keeping me out of the hospital.
Annie pointed out that each week as “shot day” approached, usually a couple of days before, my allergic symptoms started to appear, and then would disappear as soon as the shots were administered. Annie offered a few natural “home” remedies that she insisted were safe, to be fed to me with my meals in the few days before my doctor’s appointment. Mother agreed that they seemed harmless, and I would still go to get my six shots later in the week.
A few days before my medical appointment, I started to itch and my throat and nose became congested. Mother stood by as Annie fed me teaspoons of various green and yellow liquids from her cache of herbs. She then completed the treatment with sautéed onions on white bread with a pinch of salt and pepper. Even though Dr. Leopold’s appointment was still on, my symptoms completely disappeared within an hour of her treatment. The next day the sick feelings began to return and Annie plied me with her “meds” and again they disappeared. The day of our after-school shot appointment, I experienced no symptoms, but went for my shots. Mother and I came home upset as usual but now hopeful that Annie’s treatments would continue to be successful along with Dr. Leopold’s shots.
Weeks followed with the same results, and Annie suggested that Mother speak with Dr. Leopold about the home treatments. I was enjoying the home relief and especially the fried onion sandwiches.
When Mother spoke with Dr. Leopold he was skeptical and cautioned her about stopping his treatments. He suggested, since there had been positive results, that Annie list her remedies for him and perhaps extend the next shot treatment appointment a few days so that more days of her treatments could be tested. His own curiosity and his background in homeopathic medicine opened his mind to the test.
In the ten days until the next shots, Annie provided her remedies whenever my symptoms recurred. They worked every time. Open minded Dr. Leopold suggested that I might also be outgrowing my allergies, and extended our next shots for two weeks. Success again and Dr. Leopold agreed cautiously to wean me off of his drug treatments. Annie’s home remedies seemed to be doing the trick. After a few more extensions of shot appointments, Mother suggested that we hold off appointments for two months and keep him informed of any problems that might emerge.
Mother’s knowledge of medicine and traditional medical treatment over years of Father’s cancer treatments had opened her to alternative possibilities that offered less pain with equal success. The medical team of Annie, Dr. Leopold and Mother made the ultimate decision that my allergy treatments were ready to be shifted from the medical office to Annie’s home kitchen.
- The Farm Behind the Garage
Our home had a long back yard with a huge oak at the back next to a detached garage. The garage had space for a car, bikes, garden tools, shovels, buckets and snow tires. Behind the garage a driveway stretched from one street all the way behind the houses to the next cross street. Every house had its own one or two car garage. The larger houses, mansions, had separate 2 story garages that were nearly as large as our whole home. Between that driveway and the houses that fronted on the next street over was a wide vacant lot overgrown with weeds. It must have been owned by someone, or the city, but no one knew the owner. No one cared and we children stayed out of it because of poison ivy and burrs that stick to our clothes.
Each week Annie strung the clothesline back and forth from poles throughout the yard to hang Monday’s wash. In the basement, we had a huge porcelain tub washer with an attached motorized wringer. There was a gas dryer that Annie used only to fluff towels. All other clothes were hung with wooden clothespins all over the yard to be sun dried.
Every Monday after hanging up the wash Annie relaxed on the wooden slat swing that was suspended by thick ropes from the huge lowest branch of our ancient oak. Her weight on the swing strained the branch, causing it to groan with the every swing. Sometimes she faced the house and other times she looked out over the lot beyond the garage and driveway.
When Mother came home from the store one evening, Annie asked her if she would mind if she did a little farming in the lot across the driveway. Mother warned her about the poison ivy and the brambles, but Annie assured her that she would clean out and plow a garden. It would have to be fairly large since she wanted to plant a few rows of corn as well as other smaller vegetables. Mother said she hoped that no one would complain. Annie said she needn’t worry. People only drove up and down the driveway and wouldn’t notice. Any change would be an improvement from the weeds. Annie knew where to borrow the larger tools she would need to prepare and plant the garden. Mother tentatively approved her plan.
To avoid being infected by the poison ivy, Annie decided to do some controlled burning of small clumps of weeds in the lot. At that time in the Fall people used to burn piles of leaves at the curb in front of the house. Her fires were small and Annie believed that the small weed fires would not be a problem.
She was wrong.
Early in the morning she poured some kerosene on a 4 foot square clump. She held a squirting hose at the ready just in case, as she struck a match and lit the first square. The flames leaped up but were contained in her square. What she hadn’t counted on however was the smoke. Unlike burning leaves, lighted kerosene burns with thick black smoke. Her little fire, although totally under control sent billowing smelly black smoke high into the air and through the neighborhood. Annie paid no mind to the smoke, but other neighbors did.
When she lighted the next square sirens could be heard from all sides of the block. Soon six fire engines drove down both ends of the driveway from one street to the next.
Annie stood in her house dress and apron totally in control of the situation with her garden hose and rake. Firemen jumped from their trucks ready to unfurl their hoses, when she held up her hand to stop them.
No Need! I have everything well in hand.
Firemen took their own rakes to the burnt weeds, and spread the wet results of the two squares.
Lady, you have to stop this burning right now. You’re polluting the neighborhood and scaring the neighbors all around.
But Captain this is the only way to clear the land for my garden.
Find another way, lady.
The firemen climbed aboard their trucks and pulled away, disappearing as quickly as they had arrived.
Undeterred, Annie cleared the rest of the plot without fire, using a rake a hoe and a scythe, backbreaking work.
That season we ate tomatoes, green beans, lettuce, collard greens, cucumbers, peppers and tiny ears of corn.
Mother made a significant donation to the Philadelphia Fire Department, and avoided a fine for careless fire setting.
- Sunday After-Church Breakfast
Annie went to church every Sunday early. She requested one favor from Mother since this was and will be her home. After the church service each Sunday, she would like to have a few of her congregation over for breakfast at our home (now hers too) including her son, Joseph, the only man in the group. Joseph usually dressed in a large double-breasted suit with close-cropped hair and a large gold front tooth shown by a constant wide-open smile . All of the usual Sunday women were dressed alike, in crisp cotton white with shiny white oxford lace-ups and veiled white hats.
Annie asked Mother if she wouldn’t mind that we stay out of the kitchen and breakfast room until their church meal was over.
At first Mother hesitated, but then determined that the three of us could sleep late on Sunday, and Annie intended to save the same delicious breakfast “fixins” for us after her church group went home.
We listened to that first breakfast from upstairs in our beds. It was hard to resist the cooking smells and the laughter. When everyone left and before Annie called us down, we were already seated at the dining room table in our pajamas and bathrobes ready to spring into the breakfast room as soon as the door opened.
What a spread lay before us on the dinette table.
Maple cinnamon Oatmeal
Cut-up fresh fruit
Egg, pepper, potato, and onion casserole,
Biscuits with gravy, cream cheese or sweet butter.
Crispy bacon
Apple pie with vanilla sauce
Milk or coffee
Was there ever such a Sunday feast? We’d be stuffed until dinner and perhaps beyond.
This Sunday ritual recurred for as long as Annie lived with us.
When Annie began to cook her home remedies for me to “cure” my allergies, I started to assist her with the cooking. One early Sunday morning I was in the kitchen chopping onions when Annie and her group arrived for breakfast. They all welcomed me and insisted that I join the party, and help with the cooking. Annie assigned other tasks of food preparation for me and I became a special member of the breakfast, the first outsider.
- Grandmom Sleeps in the Livingroom
One weekend Mother’s Mother, Grandmom arrived to stay with us for the two nights. Although she felt uncomfortable and intrusive just showing up without warning or invitation, here she was, about to visit her only daughter and two of her grandchildren. Mother voiced her concern that we had no separate bedroom for her. Grandmom reminded Mother that she recollected that we did have three bedrooms. Mother told her that the third bedroom was occupied by Annie, our maid. Grandmom suggested that Annie could sleep on the living room sofa. Mother said that the middle room has been Annie’s since she moved in. Grandmom would have to sleep in the living room. Grandmom disagreed at first, but Mother would not be moved. Neither would Annie.
Grandmom unpacked her bags and stored her clothes on shelves in the living room china cabinet.
Before dinner Grandmom insisted on helping Annie prepare the meal. Surprisingly Annie and she cooperated and created a Jewish and Southern American combination that delighted all of us. Fried chicken that is baked in the oven with little white and sweet potatoes, carrots and whole onions. Annie cooked a side of baby spinach with butter and garlic. Grandmom baked a sweet noodle kugel for dessert. Delicious and multi-ethnic.
At bedtime Annie made up the sofa as a bed for Grandmom and the rest of us went upstairs to our accustomed bedrooms.
All of the lights went out and the house was dark and silent. Everyone drifted into sound sleep. Then a rhythmic knocking started softly and then increased in loudness, then stopped. Grandmom looked around from her sofa-bed. There were no more sounds and no shadows at the windows. She swung he legs off of the sofa and put on her chenille bathrobe. She walked to the side door and listened for any sounds outside.
Who’s there?
No answer.
Again
Who’s there?
Again no answer.
She turned on the outside light, unlocked the deadbolt, unlatched the door handle and pulled the heavy door open. No one was there. She pulled her robe tightly around herself and stepped outside to look around. The walkway from the house to the street was empty.
Again she repeated in a loud whisper.
Is anyone there?
No answer and she stepped back into the house, locked the door and walked back to the sofa. She took off her bathrobe, returned under the covers and settled herself, closing her eyes. Soon she was asleep again.
Next the knocking woke her again, and again she threw on her bathrobe and walked to the door. This time she quietly unlocked the door and quickly swung it open. She expected to see someone, but again no one was there. Annoyed she closed the door and returned to the sofa. Again she settled herself and fell asleep.
Again she was startled by the knocking. This time she decided to stay put and see if the knocking continued. It stopped and she decided to ignore it and close her eyes. She couldn’t fall back to sleep. She was vigilant, listening for more knocking. After what seemed like a long time with no sounds, a single knock followed by long silence.
Grandmom remained awake for the rest of the night listening for more knocking. The knocking came as she expected, each time with more and more knocks. She refused to be roused to open the door again, but was annoyed that she had to be kept up all night, not able to sleep in a real bedroom.
When daylight arrived Annie walked down the stairs into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Grandmom put on her bathrobe and walked wearily into the kitchen with Annie. She described her terrible night, repeatedly waking to the interruptions of knocking that disturbed her peace.
Annie couldn’t explain what had happened. Nobody ever came in the middle of the night before. She couldn’t imagine that people were playing tricks.
At 7:00 the Grandfather Clock rang the hour softly, but one of the chimes banged against the back of the clock case. The banging was not loud, but in the silence of night even a soft knock booms. We all laughed…except Grandmom.
Review of Mother’s Dates
The years following Daddy’s death were hard and lonely for Mother. Relatives and friends encouraged her to date, even offering to arrange luncheons or dinners to which she could be invited along with an eligible man. Mother declined the offers for two years, which she felt was an appropriate time for her to be an undistracted widow. Mother was attractive and 46 years old, a trim and sophisticated business woman. She operated the her women’s clothing store on Ridge Avenue in North Philadelphia. Although the business was not profitable she kept it limping along, maintaining the same schedule from earlier years. Every two weeks she traveled to New York to buy stock, dresses, stockings, underwear, and accessories. She had wonderful taste and a sense of what garments would sell best. Every day when she went to the store, and when she traveled to New York she dressed fashionably, with a look and bearing of a buyer worthy of Vogue Magazine.
Annie always commented about her appearance.
Miss Silverman, you look just perfect. We need you to find a man who will appreciate you.
Mother always shook her head.
Not yet, Annie.
But then, after about two years, Mother let it be known that she was willing to go out dates.
Within the week, the phone rang from matchmaking cousins and friends with descriptions of single men, widowed, never married or, least desirable, divorced. Divorced men were unsuccessfully married, so not a good bet to Mother. Never married men in their forties and fifties were probably not good potential either, since they might be immature, or old and set in their single ways. So pretty much she restricted her possibilities to widowed men, who loved their wife and stood by her until “death do us part.”
Yet even with the restrictions, the phone calls came often. Mother decided that she would never answer the phone in the evening to avoid direct answering of date calls. Annie was the receptionist.
Good evening, Silverman residence. Who’s calling?
If the call was from family or known friends, Annie passed the phone to Mother. If an unknown man was the caller, Annie took his phone number and name offering to have Mother return his call. If the man refused to leave his phone number, Annie assured him that he would never meet Mother. Annie was the “gatekeeper.” She always got the phone number.
Mother conducted screening phone calls with men lasting from five minutes to an hour. At least three conversations occurred before an actual meeting was arranged. All first meetings were for dinner at a fine restaurant. There would be no “meet-up for coffee at Horn and Hardart.”
Mother was not a stickler for Saturday night dates. Friday, Saturday or Sunday were acceptable, though Saturday night was the traditional best. On date-night she dressed and made up, looking her absolute best, with all of her perfect jewelry and accessories.
Every man who arrived at the side door, when Annie opened it in her well pressed uniform could not help but be impressed. Annie showed the man into the living room asking him to make himself comfortable on the beige camel-back sofa across from the stairway that Mother would walk down.
Mother glided down the stairs, watched by her date. Every time the man smiled and jumped to his feet to greet her. How could he not be pleased and smiling. She liked spectacular every time. He would hold her coat for her and sometimes even present flowers.
When they left for his waiting car, an instant after the door closed, Annie, Harry and I came out into the hallway from behind the dining room wall to begin the discussion of how this man looked compared to how Mother looked. Was he worthy of her? Was he well dressed, thin, fat, short, tall, high class or low?
Later in each date evening, no later than 10:30 PM, they returned home, spoke a few words outside or inside the house, shook hands and parted.
Mother walked into the living room and sat on the sofa.
Annie, Harry, I and Nikki, our dog sat around her to discuss her date.
Mother initiated the discussion with a summary of her evening from drive to the restaurant to the meal and conversation, the ride back, and finally the parting “good night.”
Next Mother assessed how she felt about the man she had spent the evening with, his positives if any and his negatives if any. Then she suggested the potential for future dates with this man. Mother was always generous in her descriptions and judgments. All dates were kind and courteous, well dressed and generous.
Finally, just before bedtime, Annie gave her opinion. Her pros and cons were not always sensitive or charitable. After all, these men were taking out “my Miss Silverman.” Annie, always protective, judged these men without much generosity. Next Harry and I spoke, usually briefly saying we liked him or we didn’t, because of this, this and this. Mother considered all of our opinions and said she would decide on future dates if or when he calls her again.
Meeting over,we all climbed the stairs and went to bed.
That became the ritual for all social engagements. At least once a week Mother went out with men to restaurants, concerts, or plays. So far there were no second dates. Mother was not a serial dater. She knew that if she accepted second or third invitations, she would be concentrating on some “special” men. After a few months, Mother narrowed her list of dates to three men, one business owner, one physician and one lawyer.
Even though these men had more dates, after each the family meetings continued. Mother offered more information about her date and how her feelings were progressing and changing. Annie and the rest of us softened our opinions about these now familiar visitors. For Annie they all seemed kind and thoughtful, so she concentrated on how they looked visually with Mother.
Mr. Miller, the businessman was balding, short and chubby, “pushed in and hammered down.” Harry and I agreed that he didn’t look like a handsome “boyfriend” for Mother. So as far as we were concerned he had to be out. Mother agreed that she didn’t find him very attractive, but he was a “gentleman”, soft spoken and kind.
Dr. Waldman was trim and well-dressed, drove an expensive car, and took Mother to the best restaurants. Annie approved of him and Mother said he was very intelligent and knew a lot about a lot. They had great conversations at dinner and yet he seemed serious and impersonal.
Mr. Frank, the lawyer was nice looking and well dressed. He enjoyed taking Mother to theater and concerts as well as to restaurants. He was well spoken and above all had a sense of humor. He didn’t tell jokes, but he often had a funny slant on many things. It concerned Mother that his humor, though witty was sometimes laced with sarcasm. He never used that with Mother. He was funny though with an edge. He was determined to win Annie over, frequently joking with her and complimenting her. Harry and I agreed that he looked ok and sounded like fun.
At no time in all of these events, did Harry or I meet her dates. Mother was careful not to involve us unless someone was deemed special and a good prospect for the future.
Mother decided to concentrate on two favorites, Dr. Waldman and Mr. Frank. Poor Mr. Miller, probably the kindest and most pleasant, but the least interesting, was no longer in the running.
Now Harry and I were about to meet the two candidates, the doctor and the lawyer, perhaps one of whom would be our future step-father.
Uh-oh, we hadn’t thought of that contingency. One of these men might actually become part of, even head of our family.
Mother’s next two dates with Dr. Waldman were cancelled due to hospital emergencies. Mother had planned to have both dates over for a dinner to meet us. She was unable to schedule a family dinner with him. It became apparent that dating worked for him, but family contact seemed to be out of the question. Thus ended the courtship of Dr. Waldman. He never called back.
Mr. Frank on the other hand remained attentive and dependable. The went out together once a week, and Annie was totally approving. Harry and I realized that he and Mother seemed to be “going steady”. This was serious and we thought about what it would be like to have him as part of our family. Was Mother considering marriage? Where did he live? Where would we live?
Mother invited him to a family dinner on Saturday night to meet all of us. Annie’s plan was to cook her delicious southern fried chicken, that we all love along with scalloped potatoes and Caesar salad. For dessert, she would bake her perfect apple pie with ice cream. Harry and I were excited about the dinner, less so about spending an evening with Mr. Frank. A few days before Saturday dinner Mother informed Annie that Mr. Frank did not eat chicken. So that the rest of us wouldn’t be disappointed she would simply buy a steak for him. (The first “Mistake”) Annie grumbled that no one could not love her fried chicken. When she asked how he liked his steak, Mother said that he liked it very well done.
Well Done? Cooked to death?
Annie clucked and shook her head with disapproval. Annie was feeling less and less positive about Mr. Frank.
Saturday arrived and I had spent the day with my friend Danny Williams. We were rough-housing and his dog jumped into the mix, nipping me on the hand. Danny’s mother cleaned the bite and applied a band aid. It was minor.
I arrived home well before dinner time to wash and dress for our special family dinner. Annie inspected my dog bite and redressed it declaring it just fine. She assured Mother and me that there was nothing to be alarmed about. We forgot about it and waited in the living room for Mr. Frank’s arrival.
The doorbell rang at precisely 6:00 o’clock. As usual Annie answered the door and directed him into the living room. We all were there, and stood to greet him. Harry and I held out our hands to shake and Mother gave him a warm hug hello.
You boys can call me Ben.
We sat in the living room and Annie served some appetizers. As I reached for one of the crackers, Mr. Frank noticed the large band aid on my hand. He asked what happened. I told him about the dog bite in the afternoon. Concerned, he jumped to his feet to take a closer look. Without asking he pulled back the bandage, revealing the less than one inch cut with orange antiseptic. I pulled my hand back and returned the band aid.
It’s ok it doesn’t hurt any more. It was an accident. My hand got in the way of his teeth. He never deliberately bites.
That injury doesn’t look good, but maybe we should go to the hospital or at least to the doctor. Has the dog had his rabies shot? Was he foaming at the mouth when he was attacking?
He wasn’t attacking. He wasn’t foaming at the mouth. He has had all of his shots.
I’m not liking this man, Ben, I thought. Besides, Ben was my father’s name. I don’t like that either.
Florence, I think you should call Michael’s friend and ask about the shots. Then you should call the doctor and ask for his advice.
Harry and I glanced at each other, and scowled. This guy was taking way too much control in this first meeting.
Mother defended him and his concern. She walked to the kitchen and called Danny’s mother. She returned to the living room and announced that the dog did have a rabies tag, and not to worry. Ben didn’t stop.
You should still call the doctor. So again, Mother went to the kitchen and called Dr. Buck. After a brief conversation with Mother in tears, she returned to the living room and announced that Dr. Buck said not to worry if no symptoms or infection occur.
Things calmed and dinner was served. We thoroughly enjoyed the fried chicken and Ben sent back his steak a couple of times to cook it more. He also complained about the scalloped potatoes because they contained onions.
Annie shook her head and grumbled, almost under her breath.
Cooked onions make everything taste better.
Fortunately, dessert was an unqualified success. Warm apple pie with delicious Breyers Ice Cream over crispy pie crust is the best all-American dessert. Even Ben took an extra helping.
In spite of my misgivings about Ben and his controlling behavior, Mother and Annie favored him as a “boyfriend” over the others, plus he was a lawyer who lived in a nice suburban neighborhood and would be a fine provider for all of us.
For many months Ben and Mother spent lots of time together, even traveling on a few cruises. It was obvious that they were seriously moving in the direction of marriage. We also had family dinners with Ben’s two grown children and they too expected marriage. They in fact seemed more positive about the prospect than I did. Harry downright disliked Ben and his “stuck-up” son and daughter.
Around this time, Annie announced that she was planning to retire and move in with her son in North Philadelphia. This coincided with Mother’s decisions to close the dress store and put our home on the market. The dress store sold just before Mother had planned to simply liquidate the inventory and close the doors. She was fortunate to sell the building and the business for more than she expected.
Next, following my Bar Mitzvah home party a buyer was found for our house. Mother called antique dealers to buy most of the furniture that Daddy had lovingly purchased over many years. Mother did not think she would get much for any of it and she was right. Surprisingly though the ten-foot grandfather clock with the banging chime brought the most money.
Mother signed a lease for a roomy two-bedroom apartment in a large, somewhat run-down apartment building in Germantown. The three of us moved in with whatever furniture and possessions that were left. Annie moved into retirement with her son. The next time we planned to see her was when Mother and Ben were to be married.
Then another family change occurred that filled our apartment. Grandmom had a cataract surgery that debilitated her so that Mother hired a 17 year old black teenager named Phyllis Halliday to care for Grandmom. Mother started her new job as a secretary for a government office downtown. Now we were five living in what no longer seemed like a large apartment. Harry and I shared a bedroom, Mother and Grandmom shared the other bedroom and Phyllis slept on the living room sofa. Our family car, a 1953 Dodge died and we now relied on Harry’s car, a two seater 1951 MG roadster with a seat for Harry, the driver, one for Mother the passenger, and a pillow on the emergency brake for me.
These were drastic changes for all of us. The only continuous experience was Mother’s relationship with Ben.
These times of greatest crowding and economic strain were our best times. We were close together, yet had the best humor and the happiest adventures during this period before Grandmom’s death, Mother’s remarriage and our move to the suburbs.
The biggest hole in our life was the absence of our beloved Annie.
Epilogue: Annie Celebrates Harry’s Wedding
Harry was never happy with Ben or our move to the suburbs. He had a young girlfriend, Barbara, whom we all loved. They moved quickly toward marriage. The Sunday of the wedding ceremony and the party arrived. Everyone, family and friends were inside the catering hall seated for the event. Harry was nervous. His best man, Phil and I did whatever we could to keep him calm and ready to be a groom, even providing a shot of Jack Daniels.
Harry paced outside on the sidewalk.
I can’t get married without Annie.
Part of him looked at her non-arrival, as a possible escape strategy. Then the bus stopped at the corner and Annie stepped off.
We hadn’t seen her for many months since Mother’s marriage to Ben.
Here she appeared in “full regalia” from head to foot. On her head a wide brim flower-trimmed hat, the veil tied under her smiling dark-brown face. The rest of her was totally white,
her white starched cotton and lace dress down to her ankles leaving her white stocking covered ankles and shiny white oxford shoes. Her hands too were covered by spotless white lace gloves. She sparkled as she crossed toward Harry on the sidewalk. She shouted and ran to him.
My Harry!
Throwing her arms around him, she lifted him off the ground and kissed every part of his blushing face. Then she walked him to the door of the hall filled with wedding guests. Patting him on the back, she nudged him into the room to walk down the aisle with Mother at the start his married-man life.
Throughout the wedding ceremony both Mother and I glanced at Annie in the back of the room. The three of us couldn’t stop smiling at each other in commemoration of Harry’s wedding and the memories of our wonderful life together.
Mother, Harry, Michael, and Annie, and our best of times.