My oldest son lives in San Francisco. He is not the first of my family to live there; my grandmother lived there as a child. Her father, after his career as a drunken sailor, worked in Golden Gate State Park, and they lived near the Panhandle. My son lives near the Panhandle, also. I think of the following story every time I am in San Francisco.
"Jenny sat up with a start; there was something just not right in the house. Listening carefully from her back bedroom, she realized it was her mother and father, arguing furiously. Jenny slipped under the covers, clutching her doll tightly. She hated to hear the angry shouting.
Her father had been home from another long whaling voyage for four days. Like many other homecomings, he had spent those four days drinking up his portion of the money from the sale of the oil. As First Mate, that was not a paltry sum. Old Man Rum had him by the neck, however, and rarely did Mother see a goodly amount of that money after any voyage.
Her father came from a proud family in New Bedford, Mass. The men had been whalers for generations. However, his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all held the rank of Captain. Will never made that rank, because of his fondness for Demon Rum. This was just another sore point for his wife. Most likely it was another reason for Will to drink himself into oblivion.
Jenny, as the oldest, was the most aware of the troubles rum caused in their household. Irene, her younger sister, skipped through life as the doted on baby sister. Irene slept in a bedroom at the front of the house, near her mother and father. Jenny had the little back bedroom, away from everyone else.
Jenny covered her ears against the sound and fury. When she needed more air, she poked her head out of the covers, and realized she smelled smoke! Her eyes were smarting, and it was beginning to be hard to see in the bedroom. Grabbing her doll, she ran to the door. It was very hot!. Frightened, she called for her mother and father, but no one heard her.
She realized that she must get out of that house quickly. With her doll in her arm, she climbed over the windowsill, and dropped, barefoot, onto the oyster shell walk 8 feet below her. Oh, her feet smarted as she ran gingerly around the flaming house. When she was away from the fire, she looked for her family, and finally found them, watching the fire. They had forgotten about her in the excitement."
Jenny never got over her parents' oversight; many years later, when I asked about the porcelain doll that sat in the chair in her dining room, she was still upset that her mother had forgotten her. Since hearing that story, told with great emotion from my otherwise stoic Grandmother, I have been sad, too.
Grandmother went on to overcome many odds and become the proud holder of a master's degree in Chemistry and Mathematics, from Boston University. How she got from that terrible night to Boston University is another story for another day.
4:19 PM
Home early again today; I was supposed to do a home visit tonight with a home visitor, but the family cancelled as the baby is sick. I have to say this extra time at home is a gift. And I'll get to the Lenten program tonight after all.
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