On the Goose. Josie Penny

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part of our closely knit community. This new mindset however, was about to change.

      Shortly afterward, in January of 1962, I missed my period for the third month. There was no mistaking it, I was pregnant again already. I didn’t want another baby so soon. I was just beginning to settle into this new lifestyle; caring for my husband and baby son, enjoying my job and the challenges it gave me. But, I had to face the facts. Panic set in. Would I be like my mom and have thirteen children? Was there any way I could control the number of children I had? Was there any hope? However, I had to accept my plight and go on with my life. I can do this, I thought to myself. I can find a way…. There has to be some form of birth control out here and I will find it. In the meantime I would welcome this new baby with open arms. I brushed myself off and went back to work at the American military department store.

      Then one day at work I was surrounded by several of the managing staff and told to report to the office.

      “Josie, there seems to be a discrepancy in your cash.”

      “Pardon me?” I said, stunned. What the hell was discrepancy?

      “There is fifty dollars missing from your cash that we can’t account for and we have no choice but to let you go.”

      “But Miss, I didn’t take any money. I swear!” I begged.

      I could sense that I would get nowhere by begging and had no choice but to go home. I was shattered. The little confidence I had built in myself was gone and I shuffled around like a whipped puppy for days afterward. What had just happened? I knew I didn’t take the money. I’d learned as a little girl the consequences of stealing. With my mother it was a cruel beating with whatever she could find: a huge back-hander, a belt, a willow, or a piece of backline. So I would never do that!

      Once I arrived home I didn’t know what to do with my anger. Normally it would take something drastic and over the top for me to lose all reason. I wasn’t one to hit walls or throw things, but this time I lost it. I was not only angry, I was embarrassed, and hurt. My fundamental values had been questioned, and how would I tell my husband I was accused of stealing? I paced the floor. I couldn’t breathe, all I could do was yell and scream. I was devastated. Keith felt so bad for me, but there was nothing he could do to ease my pain and frustration and that was that.

      A few weeks later I got a phone call. On the other end of the phone was my boss from the PX.

      “Josie, this is Gloria Hunt. It seems we have done you a grave injustice.”

      “What?”

      “We found the fifty dollars that we blamed you for stealing and we are so very sorry.”

      Again, I was stunned and didn’t know what to say.

      “We were very pleased with your quality of work and with our humble apologies we would like you to come back to work!”

      “Back where?” I mumbled, flabbergasted. I could feel my anger rising.

      “Here at the store,” she said so calmly that I wanted to shout and scream at her. I was losing it — again! I felt relief and sadness at the same time. I knew I hadn’t stolen the money, I knew I was innocent, but was too stunned to say anything to her. All I said was, “I’m going to have a baby.”

      Chapter 11

      Construction

      It was spring in 1962. The first year of our marriage was, to say the least, overwhelming. It’s probably a blessing that I was too busy to give it much thought. It was during that first winter that Keith decided to build a big addition onto our little house.

      I was pregnant with our second child while our property was filled with tools, lumber, concrete, and all manner of building supplies. I hadn’t seen any plans, and there’d been no conversations about Keith’s decision to build an addition onto our home. I don’t remember if we had the money or not. I didn’t ask any questions. Nevertheless, as soon as the weather warmed up in April of that first year, the construction began.

      I was beginning to get excited about the house. With the siding and roofing on, it looked huge! There wasn’t any drywall on the walls. There weren’t even any partitions up yet. There was a plywood floor and that was it for our new addition. I hadn’t any idea what the rooms were going to be used for.

      I had started a new job as a food service worker at the airport snack bar on the Canadian side near the runway. In this snack bar there were no waitresses. We prepared the food and served it from behind a long counter. I worked through the winter and into the summer until I had my second child.

      In July there still wasn’t a hospital in Happy Valley. A clinic on Hamilton River Road was the only medical service available in this somewhat pioneer town. At least for this baby I knew what was happening. When Keith dropped me off, I was in excruciating pain that seemed to go on for hours and hours. Near birthing time, Nurse Susan ordered me onto my side. I didn’t understand. I had never heard of a side birth before. However, nothing was going to stop this feisty little infant from making her way into this world. Despite the unorthodox method used, Susan did a good job delivering my baby. On July 23, 1962, our first beautiful daughter was born. I didn’t have a name for her at first. A few days later someone handed me a book of names. I searched through it and liked the sound of Darlene, I’d never heard it before growing up on the coast, so we named her Darlene Frances.

      After one week I returned home with my newborn and placed her in her crib. She was fussy and seemed to be more demanding than her brother had been. She was the cutest baby from the start.

      As soon as I was well enough I decided to go back to work. We would need the money to pay for materials for construction. I hired a babysitter for my children and started back at the airport restaurant. I worked all of that summer.

      When he managed to squeeze time away from the club and his buddies, Keith continued to bang a few more nails into the house. In the meantime we got a dog. Every new family has to have a dog. It was the cutest Labrador retriever, with a shiny, jet black coat. We named her Tammy. She was a wonderful asset to our family and the children adored her. She was very gentle with the babies, and smart as well. It wasn’t long before I had her trained to fetch, roll over, and so on.

      Tammy grew fast and started having puppies, which added another burden to my life. Even though we enjoyed the experience of new puppies, I was the one stuck with all of the responsibilities of caring for them, such as cleaning up the messes and finding new homes for them.

      My husband made a decision, somewhere along the way, that he didn’t want the responsibilities of a family, and started not coming home after work. I was confused, because he’d been very supportive during my pregnancies up to this point.

      “Where was ya?” I asked as he stumbled in the door.

      “Just dropped in to have a few beers wit de boys after work,” he slurred.

      “Why?”

      “Cause I wanted to.”

      “Well what about yer family?” I screamed.

      And the fight was on. I was shocked and bewildered. I’d never seen him drunk before. He seemed to be angry about everything he’d ever done. But I didn’t know what to do about it. What had I done to make him so angry?

      Keith and I were trying desperately to earn a living, but

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