Three Amigos

Nova, Darrell, Butch

I left off last time at Momma's arrival in Labrador to pay a visit to my mother. Things must have been too quiet and Momma took a chance on a visit. She took Michael with her, he was probably around two or so, just a baby but quite a handful, and the other three of us were left at home, I certainly don't remember who was keeping us.

But when Momma got back home, the old black phone hanging on the kitchen wall got an awful going over. It was Momma's lifeline. I would have been about nine or ten, so all ears.

She called Kathleen. Dottie was called to get up to date. Isabell would have gotten a call. And the news had them all whipped into an indignant fury, but again, why were any of them surprised?

Because Momma got quite a surprise when she knocked on my mother's door. Jeannette would have known Momma was coming of course, so she must have been in a bit of a stew. The cat was out of the bag again. Here she was all cozy in Base housing, in yet another relationship with a man named Frank Keats, with yet another baby on her hip. Yet another son, this one called Shawn. Another half-brother for us. It seemed she knew no limits. And her first words to Momma were "What did you take that thing with you for?" This was in reference to Michael, her own baby. A stranger to her. You wouldn't say that to a dog.

I can imagine it wasn't a long visit. Not quite the sad and suffering persona that she used when she wanted something. She showed no signs of grief over the horrid death of my father, indeed, only impatience to be rid of Momma.

And how difficult this trip would have been on Momma. To go and actually visit the site of the terrible fire that took her son's life on New Year's Day, several years earlier. How she must have suffered.

So when she got home, the story spread. She stayed in contact with my mother after this, she had to, since we were just little, but there was almost no support from Labrador. And as the years flew by, Momma would often remark to one of her daughters "I wonder how many kids Jeannette has now?" in a sarcastic tone. The funny part was, Momma loved Jeannette. She found her great company, she was a good worker, she loved a good time, they watched hockey together, they played cards a lot, and if you wanted to be on Momma's good side, you played cards! Momma always said, "You couldn't help but like Jeannette."

We usually got a card at Christmas, once a box of hand-me-down trinkets arrived, and I remember digging through that. What treasures! What did I know? I was about ten years old and I still missed my mother.

Wasn't Darrell cute?

My friend Mary and my cousin Donna reminded me recently of jewelry that they remember from this box. The silver snake watch. The beautiful gold snake ring with the ruby eyes. I also remember pens, earrings, a little sealskin coin pouch, and lots of coins! Or I think they were coins, maybe they were tokens or something else. There were old keys and chains, nothing else of any real value, a box of junk you might say. But there was a lot of fun to be had, dumping out that box.

You don't need a degree in psycology to understand the damage that abandonment does to a child. To a family. But to me, that's what it was. I guess there's no point in wondering why my mother didn't just place us for adoption, to families that were desperate for kids. Would we have been better off with a whole family, both parents, who could have given us a better life, a better chance? What does that even mean. Of course guilt plays a large part in decisions, for sure it played a large part in Momma's. As for a better life? Momma loved us and we loved her. We were never abused, we had food, we were content, and we knew nothing different.

We were never hungry, but I think we were starved in other ways. I don't remember ever hearing "I love you" and a hug was pretty scarce. No one ever read me a bedtime story, and I had to put myself to bed. No rocking, no tucking in, no back rubs, no loving gestures. And isn't it funny? I never had a doll. Maybe I never asked for one, but I wonder deep down, did I just have attachment issues, and I didn't want one? Would I just throw it away when I was tired of it? is that what happened to me?

Here's a cute and rare picture of Darrell and our cousin Betty playing dressup. And look at the old Black Rafter in the background.

The irony is that my mother was born to a single parent and raised by her grandmother. Of all people, she would have known what that felt like. What it lead to. Was her father in the picture? Was he a dead beat dad? Was her brother Romeo even a sibling or was he too a half brother? Was Jeannette just repeating the examples she was taught? Isn't it said that we are a product of our environment? That would explain a lot. I can't comment on her motives, I don't know what they were.

But the gap between Rollo Bay and Goose Bay got wider over the next few years. Phone calls were expensive and few and far between. Our odd little family settled in and even letters all but stopped. But Momma understood it now, Jeannette had another family and left this one behind.