Dickens of A Life (eBook)

Daniel N. Walters (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2020 | 1. Auflage
244 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-0983-2428-5 (ISBN)

Infos

The trauma of being abandoned by their mother sets the stage for three children who met their father for the first time when they traveled to Atlantic City, New Jersey from Baltimore, Maryland. Their mother walked out of their lives after the train ride from Baltimore. A Dickens of A Life recounts the journey of the three children who first boarded with families in Atlantic City and Port Republic, New Jersey, later becoming wards of the state moving from one home to another before finally settling with foster parents in the Pine Barrens of Southern New Jersey. Told through the eyes of the author, Daniel, the memoir depicts bright and dark moments and his coming of age, rising to become an accomplished educator. The biographical memoir is told, in part, through a collection of personal and student writings deftly woven into an inspiring narrative as the author wrestles with the question of how a mother could abandon her children.

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Riding on a train from Baltimore to Atlantic City, New Jersey, a young boy holds an orange cellophane peanut butter cracker wrapper to the light, foreshadowing a change in his future and that of his companions, an older sister and a younger brother. What lies ahead is a challenging journey for the three children whose mother, traveling with them, abandons them at the end of the train ride. A non-fiction biographical memoir, A Dickens of A Life, is a true story highlighting the impact of abandonment and the influence of education and the foster care system. It is an amazing story of survival and personal accomplishment involving the children being separated, at times, as they faced the uncertainty of tomorrow, never knowing whether it would be another moving day into a different home. Told through the eyes of the author, Daniel, the memoir depicts bright and dark moments and his coming of age, rising to become an accomplished educator. The memoir is told, in part, through a collection of personal writings of the author deftly woven into an inspiring narrative as the author and his siblings wrestle with the question of how a mother could abandon her children.

Textauszug

4

NEW FAMILY AND A RITE OF PASSAGE

In Thornton Wilder’s play, Our Town, Emily, who has died, is asked to choose one day in her life to return to Grover’s Corners. She chose her twelfth birthday. If I were asked that question, I would most likely choose June 13, 1949, the day that Margie and I arrived in Nesco at our new foster home with the Browns. I choose that day because it opened the door to opportunity, stability, security, and hope for the future. Naturally, I didn’t realize all of those things immediately, but there was something different about this move, something special about this town and this set of foster parents whom we initially called Aunt Dot and Uncle Bill.

Aunt Dot’s sister Hazel, who readily became my favorite aunt, arrived at the house to welcome us the day we arrived. Bill and Dorothy had no children of their own; Aunt Hazel and Uncle Leo Landy had two young children, Leo Jr. and Theresa. Uncle Leo, a natural florist with whom I would have a special relationship in the future, had been in the Army Air Corps in World War 2 where he was a tail gunner on a flying fortress. His plane was shot down on January 5, 1943. Missing in action and wounded, he spent fifteen months in a German prison camp before he was released. On May 6, 1945, he wrote the following letter to his wife:

May 6, 1945

Dearest Hazel,

I am free now. I was taken by the British

May the 2nd. I can’t think of much to say honey.

I’ll save all the gab till I am back with you which won’t be long I hope.

How’s my little red head doing? I can’t wait till I see him as he must be some size, take good care of him honey.

Well dear say hello to all the folks for me and don’t worry as I’ll be with you soon.

How’s mom? Tell her we’ll have that spree for sure soon. Hoping you’re all okay and healthy.

Yours forever Lots of Love

Leo

While recovering from his wounds, Uncle Leo was awarded the Army Air Medal for Exceptional Meritorious Service while in action. And on March 7, 1945, Aunt Hazel was presented the Purple Heart for Staff Sergeant Leo Landy for wounds received while in combat over Germany.

Aunt Hazel and Uncle Leo were like a second set of parents to me. My family was expanding. Rounding out that family were Louisa and Tom Craig, the parents of Dorothy, Hazel, Rebecca and Alton. Louisa and Tom Craig became foster grandparents to us kids. The only missing family member was our brother Victor, and lo and behold, when September arrived for us to start school we found him on the playground at the two-room Nesco Grammar School which housed Grades K through 4 in one classroom and Grades 5 through 8 in the other. Margie and I begged our new guardians to allow Victor, who was living about a mile away, to come live with us. Thanks to the Browns and the New Jersey State Board of Child Welfare, Victor arrived in March, 1950, although suffering from malnutrition. At least the three of us were together again, and although we didn’t know it, we would remain together with the Browns and our extended family until we grew up, married, and moved away some years down the road. A lot happened between our arrival in Nesco and growing up. I celebrated my ninth birthday on June 19, 1949, and for the first time that I could remember, I blew out the candles on a birthday cake.

Thanks to my fourth grade teacher, Lillian Jewett, I got my first pair of prescription glasses. She observed that I had a problem seeing the blackboard and sent a note home. Off to Atlantic City Aunt Dot and I went to see Dr. Jay Mischler, Ophthalmologist, and Freund Brothers, Guild Opticians where I was fitted with my first pair of glasses at age nine. What a difference eye glasses made! I probably should have worn them long before Saint Lillian Jewett and I struggled together over my learning fractions. Looking back, I believe she was very caring and perceptive, for one day she arranged for me to go into the “big” classroom which at that time housed Grades 5 through 8 taught by that extraordinary teacher mentioned in the introduction to this memoir, Hilda S. Frame. I didn’t know why I was going to meet Mrs. Frame, but I found out that Mrs. Jewett wanted her to hear me read aloud. What amazes me when I think back to that Reading Lesson is that I have no recollection whatsoever of being taught to read: no A B C’s, no Dick, Jane, or Spot, no phonics-- none of those rudimentary elements. Those eyeglasses not only improved my vision but also, like that orange cellophane that I looked through on the train ride from Baltimore to Atlantic City, opened my eyes to a clarified world that I could now see and explore without squinting. Little did I realize the seeds that were being planted for my future. The Reading Lesson, initiated by Mrs. Jewett, set the stage for a love of literature, language, and words that would have an enormous impact on my future development and educational career. That Reading Lesson was a rite of passage for me, a bridge leading to Mrs. Hilda Frame whom I grew to love as someone who sparked life and interest in learning as only the great teachers know how. She was my teacher for grades five through seven, all taught together in one classroom.

The lessons learned in the Nesco Grammar School (now the Hilda S. Frame School) served me well as I found myself back in the town of Hammonton for my eighth grade instruction. That turned out to be a terrific year! I was selected to be a class speaker at graduation, and much to my surprise, I was given an award at the graduation ceremony for achieving the highest grades in English. Can you imagine that? I didn’t know much about awards. I wasn’t trying to win an award. I just loved school and learning. Mrs. Leroy Klitch, the President of the Hammonton P.T.A., presented me with a dictionary for my achievement. Over the years, I had made good use of a reddish brown leather-covered dictionary kept in an old mahogany desk drawer at the Browns. How often I would ask about the meaning of a word, and we would look it up. Now I had an additional resource to build upon my growing interest in language, word meanings, and etymology.

My eighth grade English class with Mrs. Gloria Scaffidi was memorable. She, too, took an interest in me; I recall her instilling an interest in the structure of language which I found fascinating. I also credit her with nurturing my growing interest in poetry. I still remember the lines of a poem that I wrote which she had me recite to the class:

Daylight Saving

Daylight Saving Time is here, that’s fine,

But don’t think you’re really going to bed at nine.

Papa says, “Time to go to bed”

What’s the use of shaking your head!

Well, I’ve given up as you can see

Daylight Saving has crept past me.

It wasn’t a great poem but a youthful attempt, a stepping stone to more sophisticated creative expression to come in the future.

With my elementary school days coming to a close, I looked back on them with a sense of accomplishment. There were some rough times when I was taunted, called four eyes, and the “state kid”; there were bullies who were either bigger than I was, or just liked picking on somebody for their own egos. I would run into some of that even as I made my way into high school, but my standout accomplishments in eighth grade and my intellect seemed to garner some respect. Back at the Nesco Grammar School, Mrs. Frame was very proud of me for the English award that I had received. I know that I owe the achievement, in large measure, to her influence. I sought to capture the nature of her influence and the impact of her classroom dynamic in a published Letter to the Editor of the Atlantic City Press which I wrote shortly after her death on April 17, 1989:

Ex-Student Recalls Mrs. Frame Fondly (May 4, 1989)

I would like to express my personal gratitude and love for Hilda S. Frame, an exceptional teacher and human being. I am certain that I also express similar thoughts and fond recollections for many others in the area who were fortunate enough to have experienced elementary days at the Hilda S. Frame School. Ritual, I have come to learn, is an essential part of life. I learned its meaning thirty-five years ago in the Hilda S. Frame School, a two-roomer located in the pines of rural Nesco, just outside of Hammonton. It was just Nesco School when I went there but was renamed for Mrs. Frame after she retired, having taught for forty-seven years and having served as the school’s principal for forty of those years. She was a wonderful lady whose passing on April 17, 1989 marked the end of an era for all of us who were privileged enough to have her as our teacher. Teacher she was, as she led us to autumn leaves to be pressed, identified and preserved for a lifetime. Lady of tradition she was as she sent me out with Richard Nelke to chop down our school’s tree for the Christmas season. Primavera she was as she led a band of excited students into the woods in search of Trailing Arbutus in the spring of the year. Having woven together a garland of flowers one spring, we crowned her Queen of the May. Yes, we loved her, for you see she sparkled and sparked life and interest in learning as only the great teachers know how. There was something about that beautiful voice of hers; it was a musical instrument. With it, she took us down the Mississippi with Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. With it, she taught us how to spell and articulate. With it, she flashed the silver skates of Hans Brinker and dug up history, both ancient and American. With it, she led us into a...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 1.9.2020
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte
• ISBN-10: 1-0983-2428-5 / 1098324285
• ISBN-13: 978-1-0983-2428-5 / 9781098324285