Church, School Daze, JFK and

                                          Ten Long Beautiful Nails!                     

I had other friends besides the “neighborhood gang.”  I called them my Sunday school friends.  These friends were not nasty and didn’t talk dirty.  I felt a lighter sense of being when I was around them.  I felt clean in my thinking.   

 My church was a treasure locked in my heart that I had made a “fortress” where there were no outside influences to make me feel bad.  I felt protected when I was there.  No soap operas, no touching me in places that shouldn’t be touched, no molestation tactics.  The feelings of guilt and shame would leave me momentarily when I was in Sunday school and church.   

 I would be filled with excitement and anticipation, looking forward to the day I would get to sport my new Easter outfit there.  Mom and Dad always had fresh flowers delivered the day before for us to wear.  Easter morning was like looking at a field of different kinds of beautiful flowers.  It was breathtaking.  The anticipation alone was worth it all.  Then after church, we would head home for hunting eggs and gorging on Easter baskets full of candy.     

  I would attend Vacation Bible School every summer for two weeks.  Knowing it would be “out of the norm” and there might be new kids there, I would get very anxious inside, being almost scared to go.  My cousin, who was two years older, would stop by and walk me over there, which was a great comfort.  After I would get settled in and knew what to expect, I would calm down and enjoy my time there.  There would be a project laid before us the first day, having two weeks in which to complete it.  I took comfort in knowing I only had to attend for a few hours in the morning.  I was right across the alley from my safe haven and I would remind myself I was in my fortress, Jesus’ home.  

 Christmas was the biggest time of all at our church.  I didn’t really know why then but everyone seemed so happy and that feeling was euphoric to me.  Christmas plays were performed in front of packed out crowds.  I didn’t really even understand much about how Jesus came to earth through the Virgin Mary.  I did know that Mary and Joseph were Jesus’ parents and it was a big deal to get chosen to play those two roles. 

 Candy was given out after the play was performed.  Then we would rush out the back door of the church, over the alley, through our back yard into the back door of our home.  We would run through the kitchen to the dining room.  There planted on the Christmas tree so carefully by our uncle were money envelopes for each of us.  What a surprise it always was.  Special occasions became an escape for me.  I could put away the dark feelings that were always looming.  Freedom! Escape!  

 My dad didn’t attend church with us but he wanted us there.  One Sunday after church, evidently he became bored and decided to play a joke on me.  He would always ask me if I knew how lucky I was.  My response was always, “Yes, sir.”  His reply would always be the same, “Well, I hope you do.”

 One particular day after church, he said, “I’m just going to sell you and let you live with someone else so you can see how lucky you are.  But I don’t know if anyone will want to buy you.”  He laughed and joked around and then got up and made a sign.  The sign said “For Sale.”  He hung it around my neck and made me sit on the front porch.  I cried and cried.  I begged my mom to let me get up but my dad told her to leave me out there so I could learn to appreciate what I have. 

            Cars drove by and my dad would yell at them and ask them if they wanted to buy me.  Naturally, I was humiliated.  Finally, my mom said that was enough.  I ran upstairs to my room and cried and cried that afternoon.  I said over and over, ”I hate my daddy. I hate my daddy.”  I fell into an exhaustive sleep.  Of course, he came upstairs to my bedroom and apologized later.  What he thought was a harmless little antic, coupled with what had already happened, was more than my little mind and emotions could take.   

             The lesson my dad thought he was going to teach me backfired that day.  There were many feelings wrapped up in me that kept getting pushed down inside.  I started to gorge on sweets.  I became obsessed with them.  I started, little by little, to put on extra weight.  Food became an outlet to me.   

            The time came for me to start school.  I was petrified at the thought of having to go.  I didn’t want to leave my house.  There were so many new strangers I would have to meet.  Can’t I just stay home another year?  We had a big tree in the back yard and I would grab hold of it and cry.  The school was just down the street and over the hill but something inside of me was afraid.  Mom would calmly talk and talk to me to get me to go.  She would finally say, “Molly Malvern, you have to go school.”  Then I knew I had pushed her as far as I could and I would let go of the tree and whimper as I left our yard.  I would be okay once I got there, but getting there was the issue.  Fear utterly gripped my mind.

 My mother always had a calm and soothing demeanor and had a voice that was like cream washing over you.  Every night she would tuck my sister and me in bed, hear our prayers and then she would rub my forehead until I fell asleep.  She would softly sing and I would doze off.  Yes, I was spoiled on top of it all and I knew she loved me.

             During the time of JFK’s assassination, my parents were away in Biloxi, Mississippi on a business trip.  Not only was I separated from my parents, but also something bad was going on in the world and I was too young to comprehend it all.  I hated it.  I was scared to death.  I sat at our dining room table with the daily newspaper looking at the pictures of him being shot.  I was crying because I wanted my mom and dad to come home but they were too far for me to call and my stomach ached. 

 My mom thought it would be a good idea for me to join The Brownies.  My cousin help talk me into it.  I was apprehensive but I got to have a uniform so I joined.  I loved my leader.  I was always quick to take to heart anything she said.  We learned one day about helping our mothers around the house.  I had never been made to do anything at home so I came home that day and looked for the “one thing” that could help my mother.  I proceeded to clean out our spice cabinet that was a catchall for any kind of condiment, spice or canned good.  She was always saying she needed to clean it out so I came to her rescue.  Helping her made me feel good, especially when I could do it and surprise her.  Then I would wait for the accolades to pour on me.  I loved her praises, which always made me feel so good inside.

 I got a little older and the time came for Girl Scouts.  I attended for a while but quit.  I was becoming heavy and lazy.  I had no desire to involve myself in extracurricular activities.  I just wanted to stay home and watch TV.  I just started not wanting to do anything.  My weight caused me to withdraw to a dark place and I didn’t know what to do anything.  That began a pattern of starting and quitting anything I did not want to do.  

 Every once in a while my cousin and I would spend a Saturday night with our grandmother, with the understanding we had to go to Sunday school.  My grandmother was very witty, which made her fun to be around.  Boy, could she entertain us!  Her back bedrooms overlooked a parking lot where people would meet and park.  She said that many questionable affairs took place in that parking lot.  We would all go upstairs when it would get dark, keep the lights turned off, and sit there, and wait for people to show up.  I really don’t know what we thought we were going to see but it was the anticipation of catching someone red- handed in the act of adultery.  It was almost like watching the Edge of Night!  We would wake up on Sunday mornings to the scent of homemade donuts.  They were such a treat!  Then off we would go (I went reluctantly) to Sunday school and church.      

  It was in my grandmother’s house where I first looked in the back of movie magazines.  Contained in the last few pages of each magazine were advertisements selling a variety of products.  My eyes would grow as big as saucers, scanning the pages of items.  It was the first time I discovered I could have “10 Long, Beautiful Fingernails” for the low, low price of $4.99 plus shipping and handling.  From the very moment I spotted that ad I was determined to have long, beautiful nails.