(Jim’scopy)Monday, June 20, 2005)
Marie Church-Davidson ‘MAYBE TOMORROW” MEMOIRS
Chapters One thru three
ATRAIN RIDE INTO THE COUNTRY
Iliked the clickety-clack, clickety-clack of the train on the track asit sped further away from the large industrial city of Birmingham,and into the English countryside. To a young girl, almost eightyears old, excitement was mingled with bewilderment on that Friday,September 1, 1939.
Unlikeother train rides my sister and I had taken to the zoo, or to thebotanical gardens, this one was taking far too long. I knew it wasalready past noon because I heard a lady ask what time it was andthat seemed ages ago! Yet still, there were no signs of our beingout of the big city. Usually it was just a little way into our ridebefore we saw green fields! Instead, only big factories whizzedpassed the compartment windows.
Mysister asked countless times, “Betty, are we going to the Zoo?” She couldn’t understand that I no idea where we were headed.Finally, the last time she asked, a shrug of my shoulders seemedanswer enough, for Peggy moved closer to me, yawned and settled down.I was left to my rather mixed up thoughts!
Aftermother had kissed us goodbye this morning, with stern resolve, Peggyand I had refused to let go of each others hands, even when kindlyadults came over to speak and ask how we were. Whenever things arenot clear to our Mommy, she uses the word foggy.Certainlythings are foggytoday.
Afterthe hubbub of settling down, the packed, stuffy atmosphere of thecompartment, combined with the rhythmic to-and-fro of the railwaycarriage soon lulled my sister to sleep.
Mymind seemed to keep time with the clickety clack of the train on thetrack. “Where are we going; where are we going? Will we soon bethere? Will we soon be there?” Clickety-clack, clickety clack! Wiggling into a more comfortable position, I was determined to keepawake. Perhaps if I really thought hard enough, I could piecetogether some the day’s happenings.
Forinstance, why was Daddy not at the station to see us off on thetrain? After all, on Saturday mornings, heis the one who takes us to see the trains come in and out of our NewStreet Railway Station.
Howstrong our Daddy is, for in the safety of his arms, when we visit theStation, we watch from the bridge as huge locomotives move to andfro. Before a train reaches us, and just before it disappears underthe bridge, Daddy puts us back down and we all scurry to the streetlevel. If we didn’t, the steam and billows of black soot from thetrain’s smoke stacks would completely envelope us. “Inhaling thatmy darlings, is certainly not healthy,” Daddy says, as he pretendsnot to be able to keep up with his little daughters as they race tothe comparative safety on the street level.
Boysseem to do strange things when they go down to the station for theysit for ages on the platform writing something in little notebooks.Daddy, who seems to know everything says, “Lads like to see who canidentify the most trains and they do so by recording the number thatappears on each engine. At least they are not acting like hooligansand getting into trouble.” My sister and I think it is much morefun to watch the trains.
This morning, NewStreet Railway Stationwas very crowded when we arrived; far worse than when a weekendFootballExcursionis ready to take off. Then the noise is deafening with fanshollering and shouting. On other Saturdays, we see passengersdressed in their Sunday best, preparing to board, perhaps going toLondon or to some other big city. In summer children, dressed in sunsuits and carrying buckets and spades wait to board a differentexcursiontrainon their way to the seaside. They are so excited.
My sister and I havenever been to the ocean but Mother promised that we would one day.What fun it would be to paddle along the seashore, to buy an icecream and then to walk along the promenade. “Maybe we aregoing to the….”
Thenice thought left abruptly, for I recalled our Daddy saying, “Whentrains enter or leave the station, their destinations are alwaysannounced.” Certainly, this morning, there were no announcements.In fact, it seemed that no one knew where we were going, exceptperhaps the man who came over to the children in our area, andushered us all to another spot on the platform. Mother picked up oursuitcase, checked to see if my sister and I had our gas masks stillin place over our shoulders and then led us to the assigned place.
Oneside of the platform, midst large packages tied with thick string orrope, were baby prams and pushchairs. Were babies going on the tripalso? Uniformed men and ladies walked up and down. Some stoppedoccasionally to keep the luggage and everything together while otherschecked the huge labels that most children had pinned on them. No!Nothing was routine about this morning. Even our Mother wasconfused.
Thebig iron gates that we had seen many times on the platformpreviously, started to close. Parents were separated gently, butfirmly from their children. Then came the shaky feeling that entersmy stomach when I get frightened. “Would mother leave us too?Surely not before our Sunday school teachers arrives to take care ofus," I thought. But, as the gates closed further, a kindlygentleman wearing a peaked cap just like the one our Daddy wears,came to Mommy, and said, “Madam, it’s time to go.”
Mommygave us a hug, and said, “Remember, Betty, be a brave girl and takecare of your little sister. You must both be good little girls.” She kissed us goodbye and managed to repeat as she was leaving,“Children, stay together at all times, remember? Please don’tallow anyone to separate you. Promise?”
Now,remembering Mommy walking away from us this morning, made my stomachfeel funny again. I had tried very hard to keep my eye on her, butshe disappeared into the crowd. Her last words were, “Don’t letany one separate you. Do you have your hankies?” Right away, Ifelt for mine; it was tucked in my rain mac pocket. Then I made surethat my sister had hers.
Afew minutes later, a lady came over to us, looked at the labels onour coats and asked, “Now, who are you two little girls?”
Mysister didn’t answer but I remembered to say,
“MarieElizabeth Church, andJean Mary Church.”
Chapter Two
PLANNING ABIRTHDAY PARTY!
“Oh,please don’t let me fall asleep!” I have to stay awake but it’sso hard. Now where was I? Bother! I forgot. I’ll remember soon. Peggy is still fast asleep. She will not know what is going on whenshe awakes.
Ourfamily is very funny. At least they are when it comes to namingtheir children. We were Christened, Marie Elizabeth & Jean Maryand our baby sister has just one given name, Rowena.
Oddlyenough, none of the Churchsistersare called by our given names. Instead, we have nicknames; Betty,Peggyand Queenie.I, the oldest, have the distinct honour of having several otherso-called names. Befitting the occasion, mother also addresses me asCuriousKate, Betsy Anne, MissMuffet,and YoungLadyto mention a few. And, to add one more, our Daddy calls me DarlingDinkie. Perhaps being born prematurely has something to do with that.
Aswe left for school one morning a few days ago, Mother said, “Betty,when you come home, I want to discuss something with you and Peggy.We could hardly wait to hear what she had to tell us for she oftenhad surprises for us. Just the other evening she had mentioned thatshe would like to have a combined birthday party, rather than twoseparate ones for Peggy and I because our birthdays are just threedays apart.
Afterschool, as usual, my sister and I met at the school gate. We ran thewhole way home. “Wait!” I cautioned Peggy who seems always tooutrun me, “Wait! We are supposed to stay together. You know whatMommy said.” Nonetheless, with Peggy still a little ahead of me,we burst into the living room.
Oddlyenough, Mother was not singing, as she usually is when we come homefrom school. Indeed, she didn’t even smile, intent instead onpacking some clothes into a suitcase – our clothes! She greeted uswith a strained ‘Hello’seeminglyunaware of our presence. “Oh, dear,” I thought. “Has somethinghappened to Ebony?Butshe, our family cat, was snoozing contentedly beside the fire. When Istroked her fur and asked, “Are you having a nice fortywinks, thereplywas a deep purr. No, Ebonywasnotthe reason for our mother’s sadness. Then what was?
Afterwe had eaten our usual afternoon snack of milk and DigestiveBiscuitsmother called, “Come along girls, I need to talk to you before babysister wakens from her nap.” If Mommy were planning a birthdayparty for us, she certainly didn’t look happy about it. Soberly,she began to explain that we would be going for a long train ride. Normally we would have been delighted about such a venture but notthat day. Mother never took her eyes away from us. Speaking in atone most strange, she said, “Now this is going to be a very longtrip. You will see a lot of new things on the way.” Perhapsrecognizing howshe sounded, she said, “I tell you what you can do; you can countall the bridges as you go under them. There will be lots of bridges. You will see farmhouses, green fields and lots of cows and sheep.Now won’t that be nice?” I asked if we were going on aSunday-school outing but there was no answer to that question.
Then,perhaps exhausting all the positivethings to say about our trip, Mother went over to the suitcase thatshe had been packing when we came home. She smoothed the clothes onemore time, closed the lid, and snapped the clasp tightly. She pickedup our rainmacs that were lying on a chair, and, as she pinned alarge brown label on each, she said, “Girls, you must keep theselabels tied onto your coats at all times.” How very odd, I thoughtfor they were such big labels, like those we see on railway baggagewhen Daddy takes us to see the trains at New Street Station. Whatwasour Mother planning?
Certainlyshe was not planning a birthday party.
ChapterThree
WHATARE THOSE STRANGE MASKS FOR?
Therewas no talk of a birthday party that afternoon. And, my sister and Isensed the tension within our mother. Certainly, I did for never hadshe been anything but jovial. The gaiety in her voice was absent asagain she continued…
“Girls,listen very carefully to what I have to say.” Taking two cardboardboxes from the kitchen table, Mother placed one on the chair besideher and asked me to come closer. Haltingly, she lifted the lid of thebox and showed me what was inside. It was an awful looking thing. “Oh, Mommy what is it?” I remember almost shrieking, “DoesPeggy have one as well?” My sister stood motionless and juststared.
“Standin front of me, BetsyAnn.We need to have you try this on.” “But, Mommy,” I asked, “Whatis it?” A firm reply came quickly. “Come, myCurious Kate,hold your head down, for we have to try this gas mask on.”
“Wehad gaslightsin our home with which we were most familiar, but what is a gas maskfor,” I thought.
Mommy stretched thetwo rubber straps attached to the mask and tried to pull both over myhead. The wretched contraption felt tight and smelled horribly ofnew rubber. It smelled even worse than the rubber in our friend’sparents’ bicycle shop. Squirming did not help matters buteventually the mask was over my head. There was a window in it butthat fogged up after a while. Then I could not see at all. Evenunder the confines of the monstrosity though, I managed to muffleloudly enough, “What’s this gas maskfor?” An answer was not forthcoming.
Gettingout of the mask was easy, for mother had eager cooperation, withoutone little squirm from her oldest daughter. She lifted the part ofthe gas mask resembling a pig’s snout, and with an extra tug, I wasfree! Mother winked at me and said, “Now that wasn’t too hard,was it?” How well she knew, that if bigsister Betty said,“It was notdifficult,”little sister would follow suit and try on the mask.
Regardless,Peggy made absolutely no bones about notliking that idea. She squirmed and wriggled, but finally, GladysChurch was successful in her quest to fit the ugly masks on each ofher little girls. When asked again, “What the masks for” herwonderful sense of humour managed to emerge. Giggling she said,“When you find out children, let me know, ugh?” With that, shefolded the straps back inside the face of each mask, and put returnedthem to their brown cardboard boxes. She never revealed the reasonfor their existence.
Onlytoo soon, mother’s serious side unfortunately, showed throughagain. She drew my sister and me close, and said, “Betty, rememberto take your gas masks with you everywhere you go and help Peggy todo the same. Use the strings on the outside of the box to keep themasks over your shoulders when getting on and off the train.” Hervoice cracking, she almost cried as she cautioned, “Girls, promisethat you will not let anyone separate you; always stay together.”
Withhands across our hearts, we must have convinced mother that no onewould ever separate her little girls.
Marie Church-Davidson ‘MAYBE TOMORROW” MEMOIRS
Chapters One thru three
ATRAIN RIDE INTO THE COUNTRY
Iliked the clickety-clack, clickety-clack of the train on the track asit sped further away from the large industrial city of Birmingham,and into the English countryside. To a young girl, almost eightyears old, excitement was mingled with bewilderment on that Friday,September 1, 1939.
Unlikeother train rides my sister and I had taken to the zoo, or to thebotanical gardens, this one was taking far too long. I knew it wasalready past noon because I heard a lady ask what time it was andthat seemed ages ago! Yet still, there were no signs of our beingout of the big city. Usually it was just a little way into our ridebefore we saw green fields! Instead, only big factories whizzedpassed the compartment windows.
Mysister asked countless times, “Betty, are we going to the Zoo?” She couldn’t understand that I no idea where we were headed.Finally, the last time she asked, a shrug of my shoulders seemedanswer enough, for Peggy moved closer to me, yawned and settled down.I was left to my rather mixed up thoughts!
Aftermother had kissed us goodbye this morning, with stern resolve, Peggyand I had refused to let go of each others hands, even when kindlyadults came over to speak and ask how we were. Whenever things arenot clear to our Mommy, she uses the word foggy.Certainlythings are foggytoday.
Afterthe hubbub of settling down, the packed, stuffy atmosphere of thecompartment, combined with the rhythmic to-and-fro of the railwaycarriage soon lulled my sister to sleep.
Mymind seemed to keep time with the clickety clack of the train on thetrack. “Where are we going; where are we going? Will we soon bethere? Will we soon be there?” Clickety-clack, clickety clack! Wiggling into a more comfortable position, I was determined to keepawake. Perhaps if I really thought hard enough, I could piecetogether some the day’s happenings.
Forinstance, why was Daddy not at the station to see us off on thetrain? After all, on Saturday mornings, heis the one who takes us to see the trains come in and out of our NewStreet Railway Station.
Howstrong our Daddy is, for in the safety of his arms, when we visit theStation, we watch from the bridge as huge locomotives move to andfro. Before a train reaches us, and just before it disappears underthe bridge, Daddy puts us back down and we all scurry to the streetlevel. If we didn’t, the steam and billows of black soot from thetrain’s smoke stacks would completely envelope us. “Inhaling thatmy darlings, is certainly not healthy,” Daddy says, as he pretendsnot to be able to keep up with his little daughters as they race tothe comparative safety on the street level.
Boysseem to do strange things when they go down to the station for theysit for ages on the platform writing something in little notebooks.Daddy, who seems to know everything says, “Lads like to see who canidentify the most trains and they do so by recording the number thatappears on each engine. At least they are not acting like hooligansand getting into trouble.” My sister and I think it is much morefun to watch the trains.
This morning, NewStreet Railway Stationwas very crowded when we arrived; far worse than when a weekendFootballExcursionis ready to take off. Then the noise is deafening with fanshollering and shouting. On other Saturdays, we see passengersdressed in their Sunday best, preparing to board, perhaps going toLondon or to some other big city. In summer children, dressed in sunsuits and carrying buckets and spades wait to board a differentexcursiontrainon their way to the seaside. They are so excited.
My sister and I havenever been to the ocean but Mother promised that we would one day.What fun it would be to paddle along the seashore, to buy an icecream and then to walk along the promenade. “Maybe we aregoing to the….”
Thenice thought left abruptly, for I recalled our Daddy saying, “Whentrains enter or leave the station, their destinations are alwaysannounced.” Certainly, this morning, there were no announcements.In fact, it seemed that no one knew where we were going, exceptperhaps the man who came over to the children in our area, andushered us all to another spot on the platform. Mother picked up oursuitcase, checked to see if my sister and I had our gas masks stillin place over our shoulders and then led us to the assigned place.
Oneside of the platform, midst large packages tied with thick string orrope, were baby prams and pushchairs. Were babies going on the tripalso? Uniformed men and ladies walked up and down. Some stoppedoccasionally to keep the luggage and everything together while otherschecked the huge labels that most children had pinned on them. No!Nothing was routine about this morning. Even our Mother wasconfused.
Thebig iron gates that we had seen many times on the platformpreviously, started to close. Parents were separated gently, butfirmly from their children. Then came the shaky feeling that entersmy stomach when I get frightened. “Would mother leave us too?Surely not before our Sunday school teachers arrives to take care ofus," I thought. But, as the gates closed further, a kindlygentleman wearing a peaked cap just like the one our Daddy wears,came to Mommy, and said, “Madam, it’s time to go.”
Mommygave us a hug, and said, “Remember, Betty, be a brave girl and takecare of your little sister. You must both be good little girls.” She kissed us goodbye and managed to repeat as she was leaving,“Children, stay together at all times, remember? Please don’tallow anyone to separate you. Promise?”
Now,remembering Mommy walking away from us this morning, made my stomachfeel funny again. I had tried very hard to keep my eye on her, butshe disappeared into the crowd. Her last words were, “Don’t letany one separate you. Do you have your hankies?” Right away, Ifelt for mine; it was tucked in my rain mac pocket. Then I made surethat my sister had hers.
Afew minutes later, a lady came over to us, looked at the labels onour coats and asked, “Now, who are you two little girls?”
Mysister didn’t answer but I remembered to say,
“MarieElizabeth Church, andJean Mary Church.”
Chapter Two
PLANNING ABIRTHDAY PARTY!
“Oh,please don’t let me fall asleep!” I have to stay awake but it’sso hard. Now where was I? Bother! I forgot. I’ll remember soon. Peggy is still fast asleep. She will not know what is going on whenshe awakes.
Ourfamily is very funny. At least they are when it comes to namingtheir children. We were Christened, Marie Elizabeth & Jean Maryand our baby sister has just one given name, Rowena.
Oddlyenough, none of the Churchsistersare called by our given names. Instead, we have nicknames; Betty,Peggyand Queenie.I, the oldest, have the distinct honour of having several otherso-called names. Befitting the occasion, mother also addresses me asCuriousKate, Betsy Anne, MissMuffet,and YoungLadyto mention a few. And, to add one more, our Daddy calls me DarlingDinkie. Perhaps being born prematurely has something to do with that.
Aswe left for school one morning a few days ago, Mother said, “Betty,when you come home, I want to discuss something with you and Peggy.We could hardly wait to hear what she had to tell us for she oftenhad surprises for us. Just the other evening she had mentioned thatshe would like to have a combined birthday party, rather than twoseparate ones for Peggy and I because our birthdays are just threedays apart.
Afterschool, as usual, my sister and I met at the school gate. We ran thewhole way home. “Wait!” I cautioned Peggy who seems always tooutrun me, “Wait! We are supposed to stay together. You know whatMommy said.” Nonetheless, with Peggy still a little ahead of me,we burst into the living room.
Oddlyenough, Mother was not singing, as she usually is when we come homefrom school. Indeed, she didn’t even smile, intent instead onpacking some clothes into a suitcase – our clothes! She greeted uswith a strained ‘Hello’seeminglyunaware of our presence. “Oh, dear,” I thought. “Has somethinghappened to Ebony?Butshe, our family cat, was snoozing contentedly beside the fire. When Istroked her fur and asked, “Are you having a nice fortywinks, thereplywas a deep purr. No, Ebonywasnotthe reason for our mother’s sadness. Then what was?
Afterwe had eaten our usual afternoon snack of milk and DigestiveBiscuitsmother called, “Come along girls, I need to talk to you before babysister wakens from her nap.” If Mommy were planning a birthdayparty for us, she certainly didn’t look happy about it. Soberly,she began to explain that we would be going for a long train ride. Normally we would have been delighted about such a venture but notthat day. Mother never took her eyes away from us. Speaking in atone most strange, she said, “Now this is going to be a very longtrip. You will see a lot of new things on the way.” Perhapsrecognizing howshe sounded, she said, “I tell you what you can do; you can countall the bridges as you go under them. There will be lots of bridges. You will see farmhouses, green fields and lots of cows and sheep.Now won’t that be nice?” I asked if we were going on aSunday-school outing but there was no answer to that question.
Then,perhaps exhausting all the positivethings to say about our trip, Mother went over to the suitcase thatshe had been packing when we came home. She smoothed the clothes onemore time, closed the lid, and snapped the clasp tightly. She pickedup our rainmacs that were lying on a chair, and, as she pinned alarge brown label on each, she said, “Girls, you must keep theselabels tied onto your coats at all times.” How very odd, I thoughtfor they were such big labels, like those we see on railway baggagewhen Daddy takes us to see the trains at New Street Station. Whatwasour Mother planning?
Certainlyshe was not planning a birthday party.
ChapterThree
WHATARE THOSE STRANGE MASKS FOR?
Therewas no talk of a birthday party that afternoon. And, my sister and Isensed the tension within our mother. Certainly, I did for never hadshe been anything but jovial. The gaiety in her voice was absent asagain she continued…
“Girls,listen very carefully to what I have to say.” Taking two cardboardboxes from the kitchen table, Mother placed one on the chair besideher and asked me to come closer. Haltingly, she lifted the lid of thebox and showed me what was inside. It was an awful looking thing. “Oh, Mommy what is it?” I remember almost shrieking, “DoesPeggy have one as well?” My sister stood motionless and juststared.
“Standin front of me, BetsyAnn.We need to have you try this on.” “But, Mommy,” I asked, “Whatis it?” A firm reply came quickly. “Come, myCurious Kate,hold your head down, for we have to try this gas mask on.”
“Wehad gaslightsin our home with which we were most familiar, but what is a gas maskfor,” I thought.
Mommy stretched thetwo rubber straps attached to the mask and tried to pull both over myhead. The wretched contraption felt tight and smelled horribly ofnew rubber. It smelled even worse than the rubber in our friend’sparents’ bicycle shop. Squirming did not help matters buteventually the mask was over my head. There was a window in it butthat fogged up after a while. Then I could not see at all. Evenunder the confines of the monstrosity though, I managed to muffleloudly enough, “What’s this gas maskfor?” An answer was not forthcoming.
Gettingout of the mask was easy, for mother had eager cooperation, withoutone little squirm from her oldest daughter. She lifted the part ofthe gas mask resembling a pig’s snout, and with an extra tug, I wasfree! Mother winked at me and said, “Now that wasn’t too hard,was it?” How well she knew, that if bigsister Betty said,“It was notdifficult,”little sister would follow suit and try on the mask.
Regardless,Peggy made absolutely no bones about notliking that idea. She squirmed and wriggled, but finally, GladysChurch was successful in her quest to fit the ugly masks on each ofher little girls. When asked again, “What the masks for” herwonderful sense of humour managed to emerge. Giggling she said,“When you find out children, let me know, ugh?” With that, shefolded the straps back inside the face of each mask, and put returnedthem to their brown cardboard boxes. She never revealed the reasonfor their existence.
Onlytoo soon, mother’s serious side unfortunately, showed throughagain. She drew my sister and me close, and said, “Betty, rememberto take your gas masks with you everywhere you go and help Peggy todo the same. Use the strings on the outside of the box to keep themasks over your shoulders when getting on and off the train.” Hervoice cracking, she almost cried as she cautioned, “Girls, promisethat you will not let anyone separate you; always stay together.”
Withhands across our hearts, we must have convinced mother that no onewould ever separate her little girls.
