A Few Family Myths
Without Prejudice
I want to dispel a few family myths. I am reading the book "In Her Shoes" and it's about Sisters, and I have two.
Jackie my older sister, and I were destined as children to never get along. We were more like competitors. That happens among some siblings. We get on so well, now although I am sure she thinks I should meet someone and settle down and I think she should be less of a Stepford Wife lol.
I was the 5th child, preceded by my brother, Ian, almost 8 years older than I. James, (R.I.P.) almost 7 years older, Jackie, almost 5 years older, and George, 2 years older. David came along 4 years after me and I was 14 when Helen was born. I also have a half brother, John who is about the same age as Helen.
My older siblings were confident and outgoing. I was the shy little skinny scrap that hid behind my Mothers skirt, even at 2. At 2 my parents had emigrated, leaving behind a cold and still depressed post war U.K. I recall nothing of the trip across the oceans from Edinburgh, Scotland to Australia. My siblings do. My first recollection was looking out the window from the transport bus that took us to the Hostel in Adelaide.
I recall sitting in the canteen there, my Dad saying shark was on the menu. I was put into nursery school and hated it. I had never been away from my Mother before and cried every day as a harrassed Jackie took me there. I remember George being a little horror then, roaring and shouting and the boredom and hot days.
My brother David was born in Adelaide and I recall being outside the hospital and looking up at a window where Mum was waving from. The christening photos show my stylish aristocratic mother in a waspy suit with a cloche hat. The family all smartly dressed smiling into the box brownie. I am at the end, a disheveled child, fine hair cut into an unflattering bob and scowling, squinting with one eye.
Glasses came later.
I was always scolded by Mum. Jackie used to tidy the whole Nissen hut she said while I ran with George, untidy and dirty with knickers that hung from my skinny frame and they were usually always damp. Giving me the nickname, "wet Nette".
Once we moved to Port Augusta, David and I were the only ones home. I envied my siblings being at School and wanted to join them so badly. The days were hot and boring. Only my Dad made it all worthwhile. He spoilt me. I crawled into the back of the car with its old fashioned running boards and indicators once when he was headed out of town. I only popped my head up when I thought we were far enough on the road so that he wouldn't turn back.
Of course he was livid with me and turned the car around and drove home. I know my Mother went to Hospital a few times but was never told why. Ian was injured in a cricketing accident and he snuck home. I was sitting in the gutter when I saw him approaching. He put his finger to his lips. A surprise for Mum, he said. Ian was so much older than I. He always seemed distant and was not interested in silly younger kids, especially his sisters. Brothers, yes, sisters, no.
All his life he told others he hated girls because of his sisters and I can only think it was because Dad loved us so. The boys could never hit girls, he said, which gave Jackie and I free reign to annoy them. My first day at the much anticipated school was awful for me. I cried like a baby at first. The grade teacher made me stand at the window and watch my siblings happily playing and I longed to be with them.
Jackie was a stocky strong girl with fabulous thick long hair that she could wear in plaits. She was naturally pretty with rosy cheeks and beat boys up with fierce regularity. I was a wimp, wispy, skinny and ugly with fine hair that defied tidying. And terribly, awfully, shy. I hung around with my sibs at break times and dud a tumble in the sand pit and was teased for having holey undies on. That was the first time I realised we were poor. When a case was given away to a needy child at Assembly, Isn put up his hand for the case to ve given to me. Dad spray painted the ugly thing silver and I hid it rather than take it to school.
Something miraculous happened half way through my first year. I was put up to Grade One. The teacher was impressed with my reading and writing skills and suddenly I had a role in the Family. As a girl genius. I could read and write like an adult for some reason. Jackie said Mum taught me to read and write before I went to school and it was all I wanted to do from then on. That, and being the top of the class. I have no idea where that sort of ambition came from. I guess because I was rewarded for being smart.
Both my parents were super intelligent and adored smart kids. Ever now, one of my Brothers will ring me up and ask me a question, saying
"come on, hurry up, genius" and the answer will come. It's just like a bubble pops in my head and I know the answer, usually. They call it photographic memory, my daughter Alena has it and my nephew, Jamie. It's a great thing to have and makes for fun at Trivia Nights. I've gone up against Ian's uni friends and won money.
It also had the ability to make me popular. Or hated. By 6 I was the School Reader, who read aloud to the whole school and taught preps to read and I was a Grade One. On my intellect I was never shy. Kids came up to me and pointed to words and asked me what it said. I knew complex words, grammar, talking marks. After a few tussles with Teachers my Mother made it known I would be allowed free reign with my library books. So I skipped Janet and John and could read every book in the library if I wanted, which I tried to do.
My head was forever buried in a book, sometimes 3 at once. I read the Water Babies at 7, a thick book. No one believed I could read so fast, it wasn't a trick, just my brain for some reason. I still read like that and can read 2 or 3 books in an evening. And recall it all. Phrases, sentences, paragraphs. And about 6 I began writing my own stories as well. Jamie was the same. And Lauren. It just runs in the family. Neither James, my brother nor Lauren could spell however. I was fanatical about it and won spelling bees just by being able to close my eyes and "see" the word in my head.
I won exam after exam and always was allowed to sit at the Top of The Class. Top Girl. There were some pretty intelligent boys in the schools I went to (17 in total) but I could trump them in English essays which meant I could trump them in history, poetry. Everything but maths. For that I had to go to Dad who was really good at it. Ian, too and George. And they would explain it until I understood it.
I picked up one of my grandsons maths homework sheets just the other day. He's 17 and was struggling and after a minute I had it, the maths logic, and explained the maths rule to him. Then I helped him with an essay on Of Mice and Men. We discussed the questions and he handed both papers in. His own words, of course and he got his first high mark in his life. What was more important was that he at last "understood" what the writer was trying to convey. He now has that for life and that makes me so happy.
To be continued..
I want to dispel a few family myths. I am reading the book "In Her Shoes" and it's about Sisters, and I have two.
Jackie my older sister, and I were destined as children to never get along. We were more like competitors. That happens among some siblings. We get on so well, now although I am sure she thinks I should meet someone and settle down and I think she should be less of a Stepford Wife lol.
I was the 5th child, preceded by my brother, Ian, almost 8 years older than I. James, (R.I.P.) almost 7 years older, Jackie, almost 5 years older, and George, 2 years older. David came along 4 years after me and I was 14 when Helen was born. I also have a half brother, John who is about the same age as Helen.
My older siblings were confident and outgoing. I was the shy little skinny scrap that hid behind my Mothers skirt, even at 2. At 2 my parents had emigrated, leaving behind a cold and still depressed post war U.K. I recall nothing of the trip across the oceans from Edinburgh, Scotland to Australia. My siblings do. My first recollection was looking out the window from the transport bus that took us to the Hostel in Adelaide.
I recall sitting in the canteen there, my Dad saying shark was on the menu. I was put into nursery school and hated it. I had never been away from my Mother before and cried every day as a harrassed Jackie took me there. I remember George being a little horror then, roaring and shouting and the boredom and hot days.
My brother David was born in Adelaide and I recall being outside the hospital and looking up at a window where Mum was waving from. The christening photos show my stylish aristocratic mother in a waspy suit with a cloche hat. The family all smartly dressed smiling into the box brownie. I am at the end, a disheveled child, fine hair cut into an unflattering bob and scowling, squinting with one eye.
Glasses came later.
I was always scolded by Mum. Jackie used to tidy the whole Nissen hut she said while I ran with George, untidy and dirty with knickers that hung from my skinny frame and they were usually always damp. Giving me the nickname, "wet Nette".
Once we moved to Port Augusta, David and I were the only ones home. I envied my siblings being at School and wanted to join them so badly. The days were hot and boring. Only my Dad made it all worthwhile. He spoilt me. I crawled into the back of the car with its old fashioned running boards and indicators once when he was headed out of town. I only popped my head up when I thought we were far enough on the road so that he wouldn't turn back.
Of course he was livid with me and turned the car around and drove home. I know my Mother went to Hospital a few times but was never told why. Ian was injured in a cricketing accident and he snuck home. I was sitting in the gutter when I saw him approaching. He put his finger to his lips. A surprise for Mum, he said. Ian was so much older than I. He always seemed distant and was not interested in silly younger kids, especially his sisters. Brothers, yes, sisters, no.
All his life he told others he hated girls because of his sisters and I can only think it was because Dad loved us so. The boys could never hit girls, he said, which gave Jackie and I free reign to annoy them. My first day at the much anticipated school was awful for me. I cried like a baby at first. The grade teacher made me stand at the window and watch my siblings happily playing and I longed to be with them.
Jackie was a stocky strong girl with fabulous thick long hair that she could wear in plaits. She was naturally pretty with rosy cheeks and beat boys up with fierce regularity. I was a wimp, wispy, skinny and ugly with fine hair that defied tidying. And terribly, awfully, shy. I hung around with my sibs at break times and dud a tumble in the sand pit and was teased for having holey undies on. That was the first time I realised we were poor. When a case was given away to a needy child at Assembly, Isn put up his hand for the case to ve given to me. Dad spray painted the ugly thing silver and I hid it rather than take it to school.
Something miraculous happened half way through my first year. I was put up to Grade One. The teacher was impressed with my reading and writing skills and suddenly I had a role in the Family. As a girl genius. I could read and write like an adult for some reason. Jackie said Mum taught me to read and write before I went to school and it was all I wanted to do from then on. That, and being the top of the class. I have no idea where that sort of ambition came from. I guess because I was rewarded for being smart.
Both my parents were super intelligent and adored smart kids. Ever now, one of my Brothers will ring me up and ask me a question, saying
"come on, hurry up, genius" and the answer will come. It's just like a bubble pops in my head and I know the answer, usually. They call it photographic memory, my daughter Alena has it and my nephew, Jamie. It's a great thing to have and makes for fun at Trivia Nights. I've gone up against Ian's uni friends and won money.
It also had the ability to make me popular. Or hated. By 6 I was the School Reader, who read aloud to the whole school and taught preps to read and I was a Grade One. On my intellect I was never shy. Kids came up to me and pointed to words and asked me what it said. I knew complex words, grammar, talking marks. After a few tussles with Teachers my Mother made it known I would be allowed free reign with my library books. So I skipped Janet and John and could read every book in the library if I wanted, which I tried to do.
My head was forever buried in a book, sometimes 3 at once. I read the Water Babies at 7, a thick book. No one believed I could read so fast, it wasn't a trick, just my brain for some reason. I still read like that and can read 2 or 3 books in an evening. And recall it all. Phrases, sentences, paragraphs. And about 6 I began writing my own stories as well. Jamie was the same. And Lauren. It just runs in the family. Neither James, my brother nor Lauren could spell however. I was fanatical about it and won spelling bees just by being able to close my eyes and "see" the word in my head.
I won exam after exam and always was allowed to sit at the Top of The Class. Top Girl. There were some pretty intelligent boys in the schools I went to (17 in total) but I could trump them in English essays which meant I could trump them in history, poetry. Everything but maths. For that I had to go to Dad who was really good at it. Ian, too and George. And they would explain it until I understood it.
I picked up one of my grandsons maths homework sheets just the other day. He's 17 and was struggling and after a minute I had it, the maths logic, and explained the maths rule to him. Then I helped him with an essay on Of Mice and Men. We discussed the questions and he handed both papers in. His own words, of course and he got his first high mark in his life. What was more important was that he at last "understood" what the writer was trying to convey. He now has that for life and that makes me so happy.
To be continued..
