by Leatha Marie
“Belle, can you talk about Annie’s temperament?”
Belle stood as she talked, “Of course, Nurse Quinn. Do you ladies have any questions so far? I know it is a lot to take in.”
All three of us shook our heads. I wanted to learn Belle’s perspective. Everything from Mrs. Quinn was too clinical for me. I said, “Not at this time. Please, Belle, tell us what you think of Caroline.”
Belle said, “Caroline is a strong person about to become a young woman. She has suffered a lot that we still don’t know about. She is working very hard to get better. Last night when I told her goodnight, she asked if I thought she could behave when you all came. I went to her bed, gave her a big hug, and said, ‘Yes. But I know your sisters will want you just as you are.’ I say that just so you know how much she wants to heal.
“Caroline is particular about how she does things. If she is pulling weeds, she will make sure each plant has room to breathe. She will work hours on that. And she checks on them every day. Caroline said she can’t hear voices when she is working hard.
“Caroline likes children. I saw in her chart that she was a babysitter before coming here, so I took her to visit the child nursery we have here. She was the happiest I’ve ever seen her with the preschool children. They feel easy with her. Lots of hugs and laughter happened in that short visit. With permission from Nurse Quinn and Dr. Redmond, we are going to assign her to the nursery as her full time job. I know she will be happy when I tell her. Actually, why don’t you all tell her and find out why she likes it so much.”
Annie interrupted, “I know why she likes it. She is careful and sweet with children. She once said to me that ‘Children don’t care whether I am odd. They don’t even notice.’ I thank you so much for finding out what works for Caroline.”
Dianne wanted to leave. “Can we see her now? I really need to see my sister.”
Doc stood and said, “Certainly. We can talk more later if you like. We just want you to feel assured that Caroline is in good hands.”
Again came the tears. All three sisters and Belle.
Belle escorted us to the arts and crafts room to see Caroline. There she was in a large room at a table folding napkins. We just watched her from the other side of the room for a few moments. Caroline was thin, way too thin. Her color was not good. There was a yellowish tint to her skin. Her hair was clean and styled, but the color was dull. Caroline always had the prettiest hair in the family. A chestnut color with a beautiful shine to it. She was the only sister that really brushed her hair 100 strokes like Momma told us all to do. Caroline looked older than 16. Her life had already been too hard.
Annie walked over to Caroline and called her name softly, “Hi, Caroline, it’s me, Annie.”
“I know who you are. They told me you were coming. Where is the rest of my so called family?”
Dianne approached singing a song we’ve sung a thousand times together since she was a little girl. Caroline used to call it the silly word song.
As soon as we realized what Dianne was doing, we began singing with her. We knew this by heart.
Skid-dy-mer-rink-a-dink-a-boomp,
Skid-dy-mer-ink-a-doo means I love you.
Skid-dy-mer-rink-a-dink-a-boomp,
Skid-dy-mer-rink-a-doo means I’ll be true.
Skid-dy-mer-rink-a-doo-a-boomp,
Skid-dy-mer-rink-a-doo,
Caroline looked up at us and turned that frown into a smile and joined us in song. Only she changed the last line of the song for her.
Skid-dy-mer-rink-a-doo-a-boomp,
Skid-dy-mer-rink-a-doo, means you love me!
Caroline stopped abruptly and looked around at everyone staring at us. We were the only noise in the place, so we came in with a big finish. As we always did, we pointed to Caroline as we sang her favorite line.
Skid-dy-mer-rink-a-doo means I’ll be true.
When we stopped singing there was some laughter. Belle started the clapping in the back of the room with the caregivers joining in. Quickly the others in the room began to clap quite energetically.
Caroline stood and took a bow. Then came the Nash sisters hug. It felt like family again!
We talked for hours about home, childhood, the men in our lives, and Annie’s car. No one brought up anything negative. I could tell Caroline was working hard to stay focused. Annie decided we should go for a walk outside. Caroline looked over at Belle.
Belle jumped right in with her sweet voice. “That is a wonderful idea! Caroline, you can go with your sisters. I don’t need to go with you. Take them to the picnic tables under the big oak tree. They will like that.”
Caroline was humming our song as we approached the front porch steps down to the grass. Annie placed her arm in the crook of Caroline’s arm and I took Caroline’s other arm while Dianne linked with me. We took the steps down raising our knees high like we were in a marching band, humming all the way.
When we reached the picnic table, someone brought over tomato and mayonnaise sandwiches, pickles, and glasses of sweet tea.
While we were eating, Dianne broached the subject of Dix Hill with Caroline. She said, “Caroline, this is such a lovely place. Do you like it here?”
Caroline stared at her hands and responded slow and measured. “I guess. I don’t have a lot of choice, do I? The people are nice here. And Belle reminds me of Momma—except she is black. They give me jobs to do that keep me busy so I can push back the bad thoughts.”
She raised her eyes to us then pointed beyond the tree to a huge vegetable garden. Caroline’s voice became more rapid and excited. “You see that? I work over there every day. That looks like our garden at home. Only gigantic. You all taught me how to take care of a garden. Momma always said the weeding is the worst part but the most important. I am the fastest weed puller anyone has ever seen! And I know what to pull and what not to pull. Most girls don’t know the difference.”
I wanted to keep her talking and focused on the good things. “It is a fine garden, Caroline. We hear you liked your visit to the child nursery. Tell us about that.”
She began to sound like our little sister. She always was a talker, except when she was worried about something. “It is the cutest place you’ve ever seen! There are three rooms. One for babies, one for walking babies, and a bigger one for preschool children. All the rooms are painted with pretty colors and have curtains that blow softly through the open windows. Ethel, it reminds me of how you fixed up your room for baby Marie. The nursery has child sized furniture and plenty of toys. It is such a good place for children to be. Those children didn’t have much of a life until they came here. Even though their mom or dad has to be here because they are crazy, the children have a good place to stay during the day. Isn’t that marvelous?”
OCTOBER 1935
Dianne
Conversations While Waiting
Some of the best conversations happen while waiting at the hospital or spending time with people who need your companionship for long periods of time. In these circumstances topics do not end; they morph into the next topic, and you come back to topics time and time again to extend what else you remember. Shared memories expose unexpected perspectives and often new understanding. Dianne talks about what happened on those days in October 1935 when I spent time with her at Richardson Memorial Hospital.
I heard Ethel enter the ward where I was hospitalized like a bull busting out of the pen to chase a young heifer. She was huffing and puffing. She said, “Dianne, it took me so long time to find this hospital. I hate that I was not here to bring you in. How are you? What happened?”
I told her to settle down so I could tell her about it, then I explained about falling off the back porch at home and yelling loud enough a neighbor heard me. Dale, who lives next door, came running over. I had hurt my leg by falling against the bottom stone step, and I hit my head on something so blood was pouring out. That is what scared Dale. She got two other neighbors to pull a car into the yard and drag me into the car. They brought me
here because Dale said it is the oldest hospital in the area. By oldest I am hoping she meant best.
Ethel calmed down a bit, put her pocketbook beside me on the bed, and pulled the curtains between me and the others in the room. Then she plopped down in the wooden chair beside my bed and said she didn’t understand why oldest made this place better than others. She lowered her voice and whispered, “There are nine other beds in here with you. They can’t have enough nurses to look after you and all those people. How are they treating you?”
For the next hour or so, I told Ethel the story of rushing out the backdoor because I thought I saw Joe standing outside. I see Joe sometimes in my dreams or just when I am being really quiet. I don’t think I am crazy. I just think he is reassuring me. He came again this morning. There he was, clear as day, standing in the backyard, leaning on his shovel. He held his hat in his hand and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. He was looking right at me. I opened the screen door to see him more clearly. He tipped his head down a bit, smiled, and winked at me. Joe would do this before he would lean over and kiss me. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of his lips on my cheek. It felt wonderful. So, I ran to him. That’s when I tripped and fell hard on the ground. I looked around to see if he was still there. I needed him to come help me get up. I didn’t see him so I began calling out. I called him real loud and that’s when Dale came running.
Ethel just shook her head.
I went on to tell her the doctor said he thinks my leg is broken. It’s wrapped up for now, and they are going to X-ray it this afternoon. If the leg is broken bad, they will have to do surgery to put it back together. I’m not sure what to think about that. At least my head is fine, just a cut they stitched up.
Just as I was finishing up my story, a nurse came to check on me. Ethel gave her the third degree about her training, how she could care for this many people at once, and then the all too common Nash family questions came. “Who are your people? Where did you grow up?”
I never understood those questions from our family because our relations were nothing to brag about.
The nurse answered all Ethel’s questions. Turns out she is from Forsyth county and her people are Moravians who have been here for generations. That seemed to be respectable enough for Ethel. She said, “I don’t know any Moravians, but I understand you are religious folk. I like that. I am not so religious anymore, but it’s good for a nurse to be.”
The nurse stepped back saying, “Nice to meet you, Ethel. Your sister is going to need lots of rest to heal. When she gets sleepy, let her have peace and quiet. Okay?”
After the nurse left, I told Ethel I would let her know when I needed a nap, but right now, I wanted to talk. Being in this hospital bed had given me some time to think. I said to her, “I am glad you are here. We have a lot to talk about.”
Then I started and hardly stopped to take a breath or a sip of water. Ethel interrupted from time to time.
I was reading a book with Suzy recently.
Ethel stopped me almost mid-sentence. “Oh, by the way George is going to be at your house when the school bus comes. He will have them drop off Marie too and bring both girls over to our house until you can come home.”
I knew they would get things arranged for me, and said, “Thanks to you and George for doing that.”
I brought her back to what I wanted to talk to her about. The story book I was reading was The Little Engine That Could. It’s a child’s book, but I kept thinking it related well to the Nash Girls. I told Ethel if she hadn’t read it to Marie, she could borrow it from my house. I told her not to laugh because I wanted her to read a children’s book. Ethel snickered when I told her the author’s name was Watty Piper. She said that was a name he should have changed before writing a book.
I ignored that and went on with what I was trying to explain to her. I told her the story was one that makes children feel hopeful—to believe in themselves. It also made me feel hopeful and thankful.
The story is about a happy train engine pulling cars full of fun things for children. The engine’s job is to deliver the toys, dolls, teddy bears, healthy food, and many other things to children on the other side of the mountain. Then one day the train broke down and couldn’t make it over the mountain. He knew without the good things he was carrying for girls and boys, well, they would have no toys to play with and no wholesome food to eat. He could not get over the mountain. Another engine came to help him, then another and another. Once they all worked together chanting, “I think I can – I think I can – I think I can,” they did it. They got to the other side of the mountain.
I could see Ethel was not taking this seriously and not getting my point. Okay, it was sounding a little silly as I was telling it. We both started laughing and could not stop. If felt like a Nash sister moment.
Right then lunch was delivered, so we had to act grown-up. Ethel inspected the food and said, “That looks pretty healthy, Dianne. Tomorrow I will bring you country ham and red-eye gravy. Maybe I’ll throw in some collards. We have to keep feeding you what your body is used to. This stuff might make you sick.” We laughed again.
After lunch, I was surprised to find I needed a nap. When I woke, Ethel was by my bed. She said that while I was “out like a light” she went to a find a telephone to update George. I started right back on the point I wanted to make. I grabbed her hand and said, “Ethel, here is the point of me telling you about that book. The little train engine needed help to get over the mountain. That is true of us. Suzy and I have needed help, but we don’t always like to ask for it. It has been over a year since Joe died in that accident at the mill. You know this has not been an easy year for Suzy and me. Neither of us is doing well without him. This load that we carry seems too large.
“It just happened that Suzy brought that book home from school. The youngest children were reading it. She and I read it together one night a few weeks ago. The first time we read it, we cried like babies about those poor children across the mountain. Suzy said to me, ‘We would help wouldn’t we, Momma? Even though we don’t have Papa and we don’t have an engine, we would help.’
“It struck me like lightning. Of course, we would! We would stick together. We have always gotten through things that were hard. She and I have read that book every night before bed. It is our reminder that we think we can get through this and whatever else comes. Then I realized that the Nash sisters do the same thing. We pull together when it counts, and we think we can handle anything that comes along.
“I began thinking about all the men in our lives. They don’t seem to stay long, but they bring important things to us. Joe was the best thing that ever happened to me. He taught me how to love, reminded me to be kind, and to organize my life. Joe is the one that talked, all the time, about making a plan and sticking to it. It seemed when he died, there was no need for a plan. I would just let life happen.
“Ethel, you have good men in your life. Even though you and Frank never worked it out between you, he has given you so much. Even without being able to marry you, stay with you, or be in Marie’s life, he provided for you. I know he broke your heart. But you learned to move on. Ethel, you are the strongest of all of us— although you were not Momma’s favorite—that was me.” We both smiled.
“Then Larry came along. What an interesting man! He thought you were the bee’s knees! You wanted to marry him real quick at the court house. I knew getting married then would be too soon. It seemed like a rebound from Frank. Then the crash of ’29 happened. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, but I want to say this part. It is important. Larry had been doing well in his insurance sales work, but, as you told us, he did not do well when the stock market crashed. He wanted to provide for you and Marie, and I could tell he loved you. But remember he left. He was sincere about coming back when he made enough money. He said he was heading out to Alabama.”
Ethel put her hand on my arm to interrupt. “Yeah, Larry was an interesting man. He had worldly
ideas. He always wanted to be something more. He told me getting married would give me and Marie the security we needed. Later he disappeared. Larry figured he could build another office just like he did in Atlanta. He said Alabama was the right place because those people were hard working and needed insurance. They didn’t lose money in the crash because they didn’t use banks and had no money in the stock market. It all seemed to make sense to me. I never promised to go with him. Or counted on him coming back. That way I would not be disappointed. I just told him ‘I’ll see you around maybe.’”
“Yes, I remember, Ethel. What did Larry bring you? We can talk more about this later, but hear me out. I think he brought you a view of what you could be. You managed without Frank because you were mad at him. With Larry you became an independent woman because you found out you could. And you were good at it. Larry traveled so much, you learned more about the world out there. Since he was not always around, you stopped depending on him and started liking who you were. You began to be not only a mom but also a farm owner and business woman. Marie was not just a duty. She was a gift from God. Okay that might be a little too sappy. But this is the time in your life you began to understand that.”
Ethel piped in, “I thank goodness for Larry, mainly because he didn’t stay long. And maybe I will see him again.”
“Then in 1934 when George Fox stepped off a wagon at home asking for a job, you said “yes.” Not only did you need help with the house, but you needed a family. I am not sure you see this, but George is the one who has shown Marie what a papa could be,” I reminded her.
