by Zina Abbott
“One thing I’m hearing you say is that family is really important to your mother. She has tried to teach you that you need to love the family you have, warts and all.”
“Yep, you got it,” Jennie smiled. Then jokingly she added, “Of course, for most of my life, it has been my position that my brother had all the warts. I’m sure my mother could point out a few of mine, though.”
“That’s what mothers do,” laughed Donna. Then, in a serious tone, she asked, “Who in your family do you want to interview first—your grandmother?”
Jennie thought for a moment before answering slowly, “I could, but she might not tell me even as much as she told my mother years ago. I think the one I need to get talking is my Grandpa Mike. He’s the one whose feathers everyone tries so hard to not ruffle. But, based on my own experiences with him and the little my mother told me, that will be one tough oral history to get. He is very closed-mouthed, especially when it comes to stories about his past.”
“I wonder why that is.”
“I have no idea, although I just recently learned that there was a single parent adoption in our family. Grandpa Mike made my Grandma Jan promise to not tell anyone about it, not even my mother. I guess Grandma broke that promise and spilled the beans in confidence to Mom right around the time my parents were married. Mom feels an obligation to keep that confidence and not let on to Grandpa Mike that she knows, probably because she doesn’t want to cause trouble between her parents.”
“That kind of explains why your mother considers it so important to be loyal.”
It could explain a lot, thought Jennie, realizing she had never before thought about what might be behind her mother’s motive.
“Here we are,” Donna said as she pulled the car to the curb. “Arlene Jones lives here. She’ll be giving our presentation tonight.”
Jennie took a deep breath and prepared herself to meet a roomful of new people.
You are an Army wife, Jennie, she told herself. After being dropped in the middle of base housing and left to meet the other Army wives on your own, what’s a little social club in comparison?
Chapter 11 – Jennie
As the front door opened, Jennie retreated to the far corner of the entryway with its sculpted tile floor and floral striped wallpaper. She felt out of place as she watched two women sprint toward Donna with shouts of greeting. Each enveloped Donna with a welcoming hug. The next thing Jennie knew, Donna pulled her forward into the center of the entry hall to receive hugs of welcome herself. Not used to physical expressions of affection, Jennie responded awkwardly, although inwardly she felt pleased that she was so readily accepted.
The first to greet Jennie in the foyer was their hostess, Arlene Jones, dressed in a tailored business suit. Judging by her skin tones, Jennie guessed she was a natural redhead. However, since Arlene was probably older than Jennie’s mother, Jennie guessed that the flaming red shade, although flattering, probably came from a bottle in an effort to cover her gray. Arlene’s make-up was applied like she worked at a cosmetic counter at a high-end department store. As Donna asked Arlene how things were going at the insurance office where she worked in Elk Grove, Jennie decided that explained the professional look of her hostess.
Next, Jennie was introduced to Opal Watters, who, being in her mid-seventies, was the oldest member of GOFT. Jennie found herself looking up into Opal’s eyes which were set in a long, narrow face. So much for people shrinking once they grow older, Jennie thought. The design etched on the wide top section of Opal’s silver metal glasses frames set off her short, permed white hair. Opal’s thin body was dressed in a heavy black, grey and beige plaid shirt over a black mock turtleneck and beige twill slacks. The outfit spoke of an earlier decade. With her arm flung up and around Opal’s shoulders, Donna turned to Jennie and assured her that Opal was the quintessential genealogist, the one she needed to go to if she ever wanted to prove her lineage in order to qualify for a heritage society like the Daughters of the American Revolution or The Mayflower Society.
Jennie and Donna shed their coats and entered the formal living room with its beige carpet beneath the couch and loveseat covered in a chintz fabric with a floral design of pink and burgundy roses. Donna began the next round of introductions, explaining to everyone Jennie’s plan to interview her grandparents. Jennie smiled in response to each greeting by the ladies already seated, knowing she would never be able to remember all the names.
Desiree´ Olson looked like she was a few years younger than Jennie’s mom. Strands of her light blonde hair had escaped the bun that was pulled up on top of her head. As a high school history teacher, her interests included ethnic history, traditions and music as well as family activities and party planning. Desiree´ had an artsy flair to her that had nothing to do with the current fashion. She wore a tan crinkled cotton tunic top over an ankle-length denim skirt. Over the tunic she wore a cummerbund-style belt that was secured with long fabric ties she wrapped around her waist and tied with a bow in front. A long necklace of shells, beads and feathers dyed red and yellow matched her drop shell earrings. The split leather mules on her feet matched her tunic.
Next was Helen Young, who looked like she was in her late forties or early fifties. At least thirty pounds overweight, Helen hid her figure behind a bulky sweatshirt emblazoned with a cartoon turkey wearing a Pilgrim hat. Her light-brown hair streaked with gray was worn in a short pageboy that almost hid the bright dangling cornucopia earrings. Bright-colored marching turkeys on the white background of her socks circled Helen’s ankles above her leather and nylon mesh walking shoes. The orange in her lipstick brought out the colors of her outfit, but Jennie could see that behind Helen’s glasses, she didn’t wear much eye make-up. Helen dressed for laughs and her fashion sense matched her light-hearted personality.
Jennie guessed that Helen shopped for her outfits and accessories at discount department stores and craft fairs. She doubted Helen’s shadow had ever darkened the entryway to The Bedazzled Boutique.
“Helen is your other go-to GOFT lady if you need help with family history,” Donna assured Jennie. “She is as good, if not better, at family history as I am. Thankfully, she doesn’t do it for a living or she would run some serious competition for me.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, right!” Helen shrugged off the praise with a wave of her hand. “Donna is the pro. Like, along with my bookkeeping and tax work and chasing my children and their off-spring around the country, I would have time to do research for other people! But, please, feel welcome to ask me for help with your family history anytime you want, especially if you find yourself with roots in the South.”
“That’s true,” Donna confirmed. “I do basic research all over North America and some in Europe, but I’m more familiar with the Midwest and New England. On the other hand, Helen really knows her Southern genealogy.”
There are specialties in genealogy? Jennie felt her head start to spin with the realization that these women were light-years ahead of her in understanding what was involved in finding a person’s ancestors.
Jennie knew her parents were born in California, Grandma Jan had family in Utah, and some of her Nana Renate’s family was Portuguese. Beyond that, she had no idea where her ancestors were born. She quickly focused her attention back on Donna as she was introduced to Lupe Gonzalez.
Jennie guessed Lupe to be in her early thirties. Thin, with long, wavy hair pulled to a ponytail behind her right ear, Jennie was impressed with Lupe’s clear skin and natural beauty. Her narrow face with large dark eyes and dark red lipstick was framed by gold loop earrings. She was dressed casually in slacks, black Converse canvas shoes with thick white soles and white laces. Her top was a tee-shirt with the logo for the elementary school in Florin where, Jennie was informed, Lupe worked as a secretary.
As part of the introduction, Donna explained that Lupe had two boys. One was in fifth grade and the other was in second grade. With the way the tee-shirt stretched over a tummy bump, Jennie wondered if Lupe was expec
ting another baby. Lupe flushed with embarrassment when Helen revealed that her secret ambition was to become a children’s book author, featuring children of Hispanic heritage. Jennie also learned that most of Lupe’s ancestors were from Mexico; plus, her maternal grandmother’s family was from Guatemala and had been in the United States for only two or three generations. But one branch of her family was among the original Californios—Mexicans who owned land in California when it was still part of Mexico.
The last person in the room to be introduced was Sandy Bartels. A quiet woman, Jennie guessed her to be in her late twenties or early thirties. With her short neatly groomed chestnut brown hair, her soft, rounded face graced with minimal make-up and a slightly plump figure, Sandy was attractive in an ultimate craft-queen sort of way.
What first caught Jennie’s attention about Sandy was her outfit. The jacket looked hand-sewn. Perhaps hand-crafted was more accurate, Jennie decided. Several fabrics with metallic threads in coordinating autumn colors accented in dark blue were pieced together, quilted and embellished. The yoke, with its criss-cross lattice pattern was accented with tiny gold and amber crystals. The body, with its vertical linear fabric patterns that were also stitched vertically, was designed to give its wearer the look of additional height. Sandy wore it over a cream-colored turtleneck sweater and a pair of dark rust-colored slacks. The final touch to her outfit was her dangling earrings made with rust and brown polished stones interspersed with gold beads. The necklace matched the earrings and jacket.
With the eye of one who worked in the fashion industry, Jennie recognized that the jacket would also look fantastic over jeans. It was a versatile item of clothing that Jennie knew would appeal to some of the clientele that frequented The Bedazzled Boutique. Once Sandy was identified as the quilter and fabric art member of the GOFT, Jennie knew that the jacket was Sandy’s own creation. She wondered if Sandy ever did custom work for high-end retail customers.
Jennie didn’t see any children. She guessed that the member who brought her daughter and baby was not coming that night. She heaved a silent sigh of relief that she had not brought Garrett.
Jennie started to sit next to Helen on the loveseat. Helen put her hand on the cushion, signaling that she didn’t want Jennie to sit there.
“Sorry to be rude, but I’m saving this spot for my daughter. She said she’d be here, but she tends to run a little late.”
Jennie gave her an understanding smile and sat on the couch between Donna and Opal. Just as she settled in, she heard a commotion at the front door.
“There are my babies,” Helen cried with delight as she jumped out of the loveseat and walked briskly toward the entrance hall. In few moments, she returned carrying a little girl about Garrett’s age in her arms. She was followed by a younger woman close to Jennie’s age, burdened with both a purse and a diaper bag draped over her left shoulder while her right hand clutched a baby carrier swathed in a pink blanket. Voices in the room called out greetings, exclaiming about how cute the little girl looked that night in pink rompers and a ruffled pink and white striped top.
“This is my daughter, Kaylee,” Helen introduced the young woman to Jennie. “And these two are the most wonderful grandchildren in the world. Although, as their grandmother, I admit I’m a little prejudiced. This cute little one, who is going to be three two days after Christmas, is Myndi. Under that tent is little Myrna. You can see her later, but this grandmother holds to the philosophy that you let sleeping babies lie.”
A murmur of agreement circled the room.
“Hi, so glad to see you,” Kaylee exclaimed as she acknowledged Jennie. “Where’s your little boy? Donna said you might bring him.”
“No, I left him home with his grandparents,” said Jennie. “I thought I would come and get a feel for things by myself first without me having to wonder what kind of trouble he would find to get into.”
Jennie bit her lip. Why did I say that? I made it sound like I’m planning to start coming on a regular basis. This is a one-time event for me.
“Hey, I hear you,” Kaylee laughed, interrupting Jennie’s thoughts. “Myndi is pretty good most of the time, especially with Grandma keeping an eye on her. But, she sure has her moments.”
Jennie studied the three-generation family of females clustered around the loveseat. She watched as mother and grandmother settled the children in and made quiet cloth playthings available for the little girl. She could see the resemblance between the two women in their facial features, but Kaylee had not inherited her mother’s coloring or body shape. Nor did it appear that she had adopted her mother’s fashion preferences.
Jennie was not sure why, but there was something about Kaylee that prompted her to feel an immediate bond with her. It had nothing to do with both of them being young mothers. Maybe it was Kaylee’s flair for fashion with her short, dark hair gelled in the latest style and highlighted with a hint of red glitter clinging to the strands that drew attention to her red button earrings. Her jeans and casual knit top were set off by the most elegant pair of red high-heeled boots Jennie had seen in a long time. With a twinge of envy, Jennie suspected that, unlike herself who had gained and kept an extra unwanted twenty pounds after Garrett’s birth, Kaylee was one those women who could have ten babies in as many years and still maintain a thin, shapely figure. But mostly, it was the expression on the young mother’s face and the body language that hinted at an outgoing, friendly personality and dedication to her children.
“At least you have an extra set of hands with your mom here,” Jennie pointed out.
“You should bring your mother and your son next time,” said Kaylee. “We need another three-generation family in GOFT. All part of that ‘family ties’ spirit, you know.”
Jennie decided she better quickly nip any false expectations in the bud.
“Donna already invited her. I told her about the presentation Arlene is going to give, but she says family history is not her thing. But, she was all in favor of me taking a break and getting out to do something I enjoy. Actually, I’m not sure family history is my thing, either. But, since I hope to interview my grandparents and record their stories, I thought tonight’s topic would be interesting.”
“Too bad,” said Kaylee. Then, she assumed an expression of exaggerated brightness. “But, maybe after you tell her what a totally brilliant group we are and how much fun you are having with us, she will change her mind.”
“Ahhhh…I don’t know…”
“I hope she gets a chance to get out and do something she enjoys other than work and taking care of her family all the time,” said Arlene.
“Yeah, well, Mom doesn’t always practice what she preaches.”
“Tell me about it,” Kaylee quipped, rolling her eyes.
“Hey, watch it now!” Helen shot back. “Your mom is sitting in this room, right next to you, remember?”
“Just kidding,” said Kaylee with a grin.
“What are your mother’s interests?” Helen asked Jennie.
Jennie had already figured out that this woman was not shy about bringing up any subject.
“Taking care of the family keeps her pretty busy,” Jennie said. “Plus, she enjoys her job as a teacher’s aide at the school.”
“Another school person! Yay!” interjected Lupe.
“That’s her job! What does she do for fun?” asked Kaylee.
“If she likes to sew or quilt, she might enjoy the quilting guild or sewing classes at the college,” Sandy offered.
Jennie started to feel uncomfortable, even though she knew the questions and suggestions were well-intentioned. She was not sure she should have said anything about her mom without her mother present. Then again, she had already said enough that might not sound positive to the others. Jennie decided it would be better to balance it out so they would realize what a talented person her mother was.
“I always thought my mom has a great voice,” Jennie said. “She sang to us all the time when my brother and I were little. I learn
ed recently that my mother’s big interest in life before she met my father was vocal music. It was her major in college. Only, she married my dad and didn’t finish up and get a degree. While she was growing up, she used to sing in every choir and musical performance she could wrangle her way into, including a lot of the lead roles.”
Helen clasped her hands together and looked toward the ceiling in an attitude of prayer. “Please, tell me she is a mezzo-soprano.”
“Um, I have no idea,” said Jennie, wondering why Helen wanted to know. “I’m not sure what part she sings except I don’t remember her singing in a real high voice like an opera singer. I think she can do alto, because I know when we sing as a family, she always likes to break away from whatever melody the rest of us are croaking away at into what she calls harmony. I think she told me once that she likes to sing in a range that is a little higher than alto.”
Helen turned to Desiree´. “We gotta have her. Especially since Angie moved and Carol is out fighting cancer. We have a big hole to fill, especially with all the Christmas programs we’re committed to.”
“That we do,” Desiree´ agreed.
“She sounds like just the person we need if she’ll agree to it. What do you think?”
“Sure,” said Desiree´. “Do you want to call her, or shall I? I keep an application in my purse, if you need one.”
“Your suitcase, you mean,” laughed Helen. “But, I’m not knocking it as long as I’m not the one who has to carry it. You always seem to have everything you need in there.”
Jennie looked back and forth between the two women, completely confused. What did they have in mind for her mother? She wondered how much trouble she was going to be in when her mother found out she had shared personal information about her with these women who, just a few minutes ago, were total strangers.