Mary Poppins

My mother  took me to my first movie at age four. Mary Poppins and her paramour Bert captured  my heart the moment they both giggled so hard they  snorted and chortled their way up to the ceiling. I fantasized that if I could make my mother  laugh that much and that hard, my mother and I could float up to the ceiling  and that she could be free from suffering. Sometimes when I could make  my mother laugh it felt like we were both floating.

 Apart from getting her hair and  wigs styled, going grocery shopping,  showing up to my parent teacher conferences, and visits to her doctor, my mother stayed at home. She  didn't seem to have any hobbies, interests, or friends.  It was made easier for her not to leave the house since the butcher, fishmonger, and the pharmacy all delivered. The Milkman was also a godsend. Hoods was the milk company that seemed to have a monopoly in the Greater Boston area.  Hoodsies were the individual wax papered ice cream cups with a pull up top. I used to wait until the ice cream softened up enough to swirl it around like a sweet soft cloud.

During school vacations, my mother would find babysitters to keep us three busy and entertained. If my Grandfather went on a fishing trip, my Nana might stay with us, and sleep in the other twin bed in my pink bedroom. Sometimes she would stay with us a whole week. She would hold hands with me until I fell asleep. When she left, my heart would feel both empty and tight. It makes me miss her just thinking of the comfort she gave me. I'm not even sure she was aware of that. 

Laura was a high school student who was also  a vegan. She would spend time with my brothers during the days I had to attend Hebrew School during the week. I had never met a vegan before. She was tall, wan, spoke extra swiftly and went to the alternative wing of  Brookline High  called "School Within a School". I thought she was cool.  I don't think she  ate anything at our house other than the occasional banana or potato chips, since our fridge was full of milk, and cheese, our freezer was full of meat and hoodsies, and our pantry had cookies and crackers with transfats. Come to think of it, she liked eating the cookies and crackers, because she didn't find butter in them, and she washed them down with soda. 

Another time we had an Israeli young woman, named Orly  who stayed with us for a little while. She also slept in  the other twin bed in my pink bedroom.  She was tall, gregarious and fun to be around. She was also diabetic. And seemed to really enjoy drinking a lot of milk and eating lots of sweets.  This did not work out well for my mother, as she thought she was 'eating us out of house and home'.

 Lilliana from Austin Texas  was a professional cello player who lived upstairs on the third floor for what seemed to be a few years.  The idea was that she would tutor me in Cello, and babysit for my younger brother for free or reduced rent. My favorite thing to do would be to be able to play HER cello which seemed much grander than the school rental I had. It just vibrated on a whole
other level, and it made me feel like a professional musician.  And I got to drink Constant Comment tea with the little dried orange peels that were peeking through the tea bag. She used to make it really strong with a lot of sugar. I used to think it was a Texan thing.

When  Lilliana would come home late at night, my baby brother would pull himself  up in his crib.

"MEL-DiDeee!!!" he'd say with a big smile and his blond curls cascading around his wide awake face.We like to think he called her that, because he would hear her playing beautiful melodies on her cello all hours of the day.

One of our favorite babysitters of all had to be Marie. Marie's parents were both Polish, and  she was just a few years older than me. Marie felt more like the big sister I always wished for, with a big personality and sense of humor to match. She would come to  stay in my bedroom (which was still pink)  during school vacations.  At the time,  I remember there was a a TV advertising campaign featuring "Jonny Horizon", who convinced all the children to throw their trash away in garbage bins. At some point, she would say "Jonny Horizon, eat your heart out!" when we'd toss our trash in the park bins. We'd roar with laughter, and save our gum wrappers just to have her say it on command. She also taught us a few choice Polish curse words. We just loved Marie.

One summer, she came with us when our parent's rented a house near the beach on Cape Cod. The house was covered with weathered cedar shingles and smelled kind of musty inside. I meant that in the best possible way.  I grew to love all of the creaks the house would make, and loved all the nooks, cranny's, eves, and gables.  You could even see a bit of  the ocean out of my bedroom window.

 I always wondered what others would think when my mother would walk around the house raging and crying. It was something that just happened, and it was part of growing up in our house. It's what 'normal' was for us, until I began to realize most other moms didn't do that. Other than  scold their children from time to time.

One day, I heard Marie crying in her bedroom. When I knocked softly at her door, I asked her what was wrong, she said she was just homesick. From the sound of it, her parent's seemed very sweet,
plus I figured she could eat as much   Kielbasa (polish sausage)as she'd like.  I thought  I'd be homesick too if I were her.

What has taken me practically my whole life to understand was that my mother was, and has always been chronically unhappy and  anxious. Either depressed, anxious or both.  Of course there were times that she was able to lose herself in the moment, and take delight in things, but in retrospect this seemed far less seldom.  There was precious little time for her to be able to spend time with us, just doing "mommish' things, as my own children might say, because she was just feeling too miserable.

Haunted by her past, it seemed.

What I've come to understand is that she got babysitters,  as she knew she couldn't bring herself to spend much time with us. She would often  tell us that whatever we were doing or not doing was making her nervous. I used to think that I was the cause of her constant sadness or irritability, but I came to realize that she had  never been able to find a  way to channel, express, or redirect her sad or cursed thoughts.

There was a time before I went to school when my mother would try to teach me songs or poems to memorize, or puzzles to complete. When I didn't seem to catch on as quickly as she would have liked, she would scream and cry.  I understand now that she was just doing her best, and because I didn't always catch on as quickly as she would have wished, she felt like a failed person. Which she would reflect back to me.

Later on, when I would return from school with a grade of C or below, she would scream,  seethe, and threaten,"Do you want me to go the HOSPITAL !!!" 

And a small part of me wanted to say "Yes" for some peace, and quiet. For us all. 
And for her to return once and for all,  feeling better. 

In retrospect, I had always wished there was  something I could do to assuage or reassure her, but I felt paralyzed with fear. I wished I could have done better in school,  but all the swirling thoughts in my head kept me from paying attention to the teacher. To the present moment.  My mind would often be elsewhere. Perhaps in the land where Mary Poppins lived.

I intend to sometimes write to express what life was like as a child. So as to inspire others to release themselves from the grips and patterns of haunted  karma and mental illness,  and to embrace more of the present moment in  mental wellness.


https://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/175/babysitting?act=3#play