constantly itchy, and I was always scratching. Soon the scars became sore and I had a head lice problem. It seemed impossible for Mommy to keep our heads clean, though she tried to desperately. Where we lived there was no salve or ointments or solutions to kill lice, so she guarded her fine-tooth comb as if it were made of gold. It was the only tool she had to combat the problem.
“Come here, Josie,” she said to me one night.
“Why?”
“Cuz yer mangy, dat’s why.”
I sat on the floor, and she went to work. With her thumb and forefinger she picked the lice out one at a time. Then I heard crack, crack, crack as she killed them with her thumbnail against the wooden bench.
“Nobody’s ever gonna cut yer hair again, Josie,” she kept saying as she worked. As horrific as the lice were, they still left fond memories. It was during those gruesome occasions that I became closer to my mother. It was the only time I had real intimate contact with her. I can’t recall ever being hugged or cuddled by my mother. And even though she was wonderful with her babies, it seemed once we got bigger we were just “them old good-fer-nothin maids,” and that hurt.
I loved my little sisters and brothers, but they were a continual blur of being found somewhere and then dying. Sammy and Mommy were very close. He could do no wrong. I became a tomboy and tried to imitate my brother, thinking maybe I’d receive some of that attention, too. Despite his closeness to Mommy, which I craved, I did love my brother very much.
After the fishing season slowed down, there was time to jig for cod. That was when we got our winter supply of fish for our dogs and for our own personal consumption.
“Wass ya doin, Sammy?” I asked my brother one day as he raced around.
“I’m helpin Dad so we can go jiggin tomarra,” he said proudly. Sammy was big enough to help Daddy, and eager to learn. He had never stepped inside a schoolhouse or a classroom, but he could handle a boat like a professional. Sammy was meticulous in his work and was overjoyed when Daddy took him hunting. I could tell he was excited to go fishing with Daddy tomorrow.
“Josie!” Mommy yelled. “Stay outta de way!” She gave me a bat on the shoulder.
“I wanna go, too,” I said. “I won’t get in de way. I’ll be real good. Can I go, Daddy?”
“No, Jimmy, pr’aps some udder time when yer bigger.”
“But, Daddy, I’m awmost six, an I’m strong, too.”
“No, Josie, ya can scream all ya like, but ya can’t go, and dat’s all der is to it,” Mommy said with finality.
I had to give in, so I stomped outside, screaming and crying. After settling down, I went looking for something else to do. There were lots of things to do, but what? I shuffled next door to Aunt Lucy’s house, seeking comfort, hoping for a turn on Mary Jane’s swing, but it was being used. That made me wail all the more. Aunt Lucy came out onto the porch, wanting to know what the ruckus was about.
“Mary Jane won let me take a swing!” I cried.
I had no choice but to return home to Mommy, but she didn’t care a bit about the swing. “Go on outdoors, Jos,” she ordered.
I meandered around, trying to find my sister. “Wanna play tag, Sally?” I asked mournfully when I located her.
“No, I’m gonna make a playhouse.”
“Oh, goodie. Can I come, too?”
“Awright. But ya got ta get yer own dishes!”
Happy once again, I set out to look for bits of broken dishes and glass to put on the rock shelf of the playhouse.
In the long evenings of summer it didn’t get really dark until almost eleven o’clock. The bigger kids played cricket on the only flat surface between our house and the graveyard. I didn’t know what cricket was other than batting a ball and running from end to end, but it seemed like fun.
“Can I play?”
“No, yer too small,” Sammy said. “Ya might get hurt.”
So I sat and watched them play, making sure I was out of harm’s way. Not understanding the game, I soon got bored and went looking for something else to do. I’ll be glad when I gets bigger, I thought to myself.
Another favourite game in the long evenings of summer was Alley Over.
“Wanna play Alley Over?” someone shouted.
Children came running from all directions, yelling, “I wanna! Me, too!”
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