Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Pillow War


Sundays at Maryville had its own cadence. Parents could visit every other Sunday, but on the alternate Sundays, when there was no visitation, it was usually slow and boring. Girls who had brothers could visit on that Sunday but since I only had sisters those Sundays were pretty uneventful for me.  Those days would always start the same, with all of the children both big and small filing in for Sunday Mass…and then…there wasn’t much else to do but kill time for the rest of the day.  We were not allowed to work at our jobs because they thought it was sinful to work on the Sabbath.  We were not allowed to play any organized sports; so basically we just hung out and waited our Sundays out.  There was one Sunday, however, I was sick and my day turned out to be not so devoid of activity.

I don’t remember kids being sick very often at Maryville.  First of all we all had to be inoculated.  Second, we were isolated.  This prevented us from getting many of the illnesses children usually get.  I do remember a little boy died at Maryville. When I asked what happened to him, I was told he had a high fever which killed him. For years after that whenever someone had a fever, I thought quite fearfully, that they were going to die.  One Sunday, after Mass, I came back to Isabelle Hall to change my clothes.  I had been feeling ill, but as I began to change, I found myself so sick, I could hardly stand up.  I was having a hard time unbuttoning my dress so Sister Madelyn came over and helped me; I felt an unusual kindness from her at that moment.   She felt my head and said “You better go the infirmary.”

I walked to the infirmary and was greeted by a nun.  I do not remember her name.  I think she was a nurse.  Her habit was all white like nurses as opposed to black and white, which all the other nuns wore.  She put me to bed in the infirmary and told me she would keep an eye on me.  I slept the entire day and when I awoke it was dark out and my fever had broken.  I told the nun I was feeling fine and so she sent me back to my hall. 

When I got back to the hall, I felt well rested and full of energy; I needed some release.   It was Sunday night and most of the girls were watching television but I craved something else.  I walked into the bedroom area, where there were 36 beds and 36 lockers, as well as Sister Madelyn’s cell.  When I went in there I noticed a girl at her locker.  I asked her if she wanted to have a pillow fight and she said, “Yeah!”  So we picked up two pillows and started our fight.  We had tons of fun and it was taking care of my excess energy.  We were hitting each other, laughing, screaming having such a good time when an older girl walked in and saw what we were doing.  When Sister Madelyn came back into the hall that night the older girl snitched on us.  Sister Madelyn asked to see me; she told me she was very upset with me and she followed with, “To think I felt sorry for you this morning.”  I looked at her and told her I didn’t care what she thought of me because, “My mother is going to take me out of here.”  With that, she said, “Mon Dieu!”  On one level, I was just relieved that another crisis with sister Madelyn had been avoided, but in another way, it felt strangely good to be able to use the power that I would not be under her control forever to my advantage. I was able to get away with being a kid.  

2 comments:

  1. Genevieve,
    I have to say upon having just read this story and never having heard it before, that it amazes me the Courage, the Hutspa, you displayed at such a young age in responding to Sister Madelyn's attempt to make you feel guilty, "My mother is going to take me out of here" That blows me away, so to speak, even now, because the nuns had the power to use the paddle on the children under their care, some used the larger red paddle and others the beige paddle, if they decided the offense was sufficient to hit the chilren with it. So throwing that off, and just saying what you said, was just like people who are in foreign prisons, and if they get out of line, the person is often tortured, that is what is lost upon the average reader of this blog, the bald-face courage you projected, and a few other students also displayed at Maryville, (like Beverly Stein,) where they went, as they say in the Armed Forces, above and beyond the call of duty. I was hit with the white paddle I recall, and it was both painful and humiliating.

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    1. just thught it was impressive that you dified Sister Madeline, pretty cool realy.

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