Likely the most noticeable thing about our new sitter was all of the cigarettes she smoked.there were ashtrays all over the house,usually more than one on the kitchen table,at least when we were not eating.And when we were eating she was always hovering around in the kitchen with a smoke dangling from her mouth.The same was true on the mornings she washed and waxed the hardwood floors.We would end up confined to her toddlers room when that happened because the floor outside the door was covered in wet wax for an hour or more,and she would be on her hands and knees,smoke between her lips and dropping ashes all over the clean floor.Sometime,a lot of the time,she'd be at the table and she would be smoking a cigarette while another was burning away in the ashtray.With all the smoking she was doing,she couldn't have been very healthy.In fact,we once had her friend drive us to the hospital in an old,beat up jalopy ans waited in the car while she went inside to have a blood test of some sort.All the while she sat smoking she would say things about her lungs not being good,and she would complain of her nerves too.
If our sitter had reason to complain of nerves,it was most likely her oldest children making her neurotic.Assuming that it wasn't her husband,or just her natural orientation.But her older kids were forever fighting with her,to the point of it getting physical more than once.And,I got he distinct impression that neither of them liked us,or small children in general,including the girl who was just a year or two older than I was,and who was in grade one.The oldest girl was about twelve when we first went there and she seemed to have an attitude about everything.Her older brother was likely about fourteen and seemed very angry,brooding all the time.Usually he would just leave us alone though.
When the sitter ran out of cigarettes she would start getting edgy.Once or twice she would pack us all up and march us off to the store with her to get cigarettes.Usually,though,she would wait for the older children to come home,then send the girl off to the store for smokes.Sometimes we went with her too,just to give the sitter a break I suppose.The store was about three blocks on First Avenue.Most of the time,they would sell cigarettes to the sitters daughter.Sometime they would not.They would insist that they did not sell to minors.Other times they would say they could only do that with a note from a parent.So off we would go to another store,all the way up Hastings Street to Mountain Road.Once the girl just went outside,pulled a notebook from school out from under her coat and furiously scribbled out a note,then went back into the store.A minute later she would come back with cigarettes,even though it had only been a short time since she'd been turned down,and it must have been clear to anyone that she had not had time to get home and back.
Sometimes on this trip to the store,the sitters daughter would buy more that one pack of cigarettes,if she had enough money.Cigarettes were less than a dollar then,so if she was given a five dollar bill,she would buy a second pack,then sat she'd accidentally dropped some of the change on the way back.Her mother never seemed to question this.
Once,likely the second or third time that we went to the store with this girl,she played a mean trick on me.It was still winter time,a very damp day that had started out warmer that it was,then iced over.When we were coming back from the store,a car went driving past and she just grabbed on to the rear bumper and allowed it to drag her up the street.Soon she was a full block ahead of me,and let go of the cars bumper.A lot of kids back them would do this.It was a quick way to cover a couple of blocks,and it looked like a lot of fun too.But I guess she'd forgotten that she had a couple of us kids along for the trip,so she started back towards us.When she got there she said"Brats,can't you walk faster?" Sometimes it was brats,other times it was "Bastards." I think bastards was her favorite word.
When we turned the corner onto Sumner,her neighbor was out at the side door,and we went up onto the step while the two had a short visit.After the neighbor went back inside,the sitters daughter said"Hey Brat,lick that door handle." indicating the metal handle on the screen door.I didn't see much harm in that,so I did.And I ended up tearing a big strip of meat off of my tongue.There was no blood or anything like that,but it hurt like the blazes.When we got to the sitters house,the daughter was laughing and told her mother"The silly little bastard was licking the metal door handle." Her mother said for her to stop calling us bastards because we would tell our mother,then she wouldn't get enough money,because she wouldn't be sitting us anymore.I never ratted her out about that.And I never licked anything made of metal again either.
If our sitter had reason to complain of nerves,it was most likely her oldest children making her neurotic.Assuming that it wasn't her husband,or just her natural orientation.But her older kids were forever fighting with her,to the point of it getting physical more than once.And,I got he distinct impression that neither of them liked us,or small children in general,including the girl who was just a year or two older than I was,and who was in grade one.The oldest girl was about twelve when we first went there and she seemed to have an attitude about everything.Her older brother was likely about fourteen and seemed very angry,brooding all the time.Usually he would just leave us alone though.
When the sitter ran out of cigarettes she would start getting edgy.Once or twice she would pack us all up and march us off to the store with her to get cigarettes.Usually,though,she would wait for the older children to come home,then send the girl off to the store for smokes.Sometimes we went with her too,just to give the sitter a break I suppose.The store was about three blocks on First Avenue.Most of the time,they would sell cigarettes to the sitters daughter.Sometime they would not.They would insist that they did not sell to minors.Other times they would say they could only do that with a note from a parent.So off we would go to another store,all the way up Hastings Street to Mountain Road.Once the girl just went outside,pulled a notebook from school out from under her coat and furiously scribbled out a note,then went back into the store.A minute later she would come back with cigarettes,even though it had only been a short time since she'd been turned down,and it must have been clear to anyone that she had not had time to get home and back.
Sometimes on this trip to the store,the sitters daughter would buy more that one pack of cigarettes,if she had enough money.Cigarettes were less than a dollar then,so if she was given a five dollar bill,she would buy a second pack,then sat she'd accidentally dropped some of the change on the way back.Her mother never seemed to question this.
Once,likely the second or third time that we went to the store with this girl,she played a mean trick on me.It was still winter time,a very damp day that had started out warmer that it was,then iced over.When we were coming back from the store,a car went driving past and she just grabbed on to the rear bumper and allowed it to drag her up the street.Soon she was a full block ahead of me,and let go of the cars bumper.A lot of kids back them would do this.It was a quick way to cover a couple of blocks,and it looked like a lot of fun too.But I guess she'd forgotten that she had a couple of us kids along for the trip,so she started back towards us.When she got there she said"Brats,can't you walk faster?" Sometimes it was brats,other times it was "Bastards." I think bastards was her favorite word.
When we turned the corner onto Sumner,her neighbor was out at the side door,and we went up onto the step while the two had a short visit.After the neighbor went back inside,the sitters daughter said"Hey Brat,lick that door handle." indicating the metal handle on the screen door.I didn't see much harm in that,so I did.And I ended up tearing a big strip of meat off of my tongue.There was no blood or anything like that,but it hurt like the blazes.When we got to the sitters house,the daughter was laughing and told her mother"The silly little bastard was licking the metal door handle." Her mother said for her to stop calling us bastards because we would tell our mother,then she wouldn't get enough money,because she wouldn't be sitting us anymore.I never ratted her out about that.And I never licked anything made of metal again either.
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