Birthday Story

 A Tale of Two Vacations

There are few times you are given the opportunity to evenly compare large events in your life.  It is due to the rarity of this circumstance that two family vacations loom so largely in my consciousness.  Both trips fell over my birthday; and while they were both to amazing places, they could not have been more divergent in their feel. 

In 1989 my husband told me he was taking me and our children to Ireland for my birthday.  I was thrilled.  I am 100% Irish and I was excited to visit the land of my family.  On the day of my birthday, I awoke early and excited.  I could not wait to celebrate my 45^th birthday with my family.  It is strange; somehow when it is your birthday, you expect people to act a certain way around you.  They give some indication they know it is your birthday, but that did not happen and all I thought was oh well!  Finally around 6 pm as we headed out for dinner, I said to my husband, “Do you know today is my birthday?”  He replied dryly, “Yes, so?”  I followed with, “I thought it would be nice if you said happy birthday to me.”  With that he snapped at me, “I brought you to Ireland, didn’t I… isn’t that enough?!”  And with that he walked away.  I was crushed.  John didn’t even tell my kids it was my birthday; I could not bring myself to tell them.  So the day simply passed… no card, no happy birthday.  The whole interaction crushed me.  I should have been used to his anger and mistreatment, but it still shocked me.  It was an experience that would haunt me for years.

In light of that trip, it was an interesting moment when my younger son Zack and I began discussing a trip to Italy, which would, once again, fall over my birthday.  After peeling my older son Nate away from his job, the three of us set off for Italy…Round two.  Italy instantly was a different trip; my kids took every opportunity to make me feel great; we all felt great and a sense of relief knowing that we were all there minus one abuser.  The kids were fabulous company and they took every opportunity to kid me by saying, “Geez Mom… I took you to Italy, isn’t that enough?!”  I have to say if there was any lingering concern about my birthday, my kids did everything in their power to make it a very special day.  The night of my birthday became one those funny nights I will always remember.  Zack made reservations at a restaurant, which he was keeping secret.   Around 5 PM Zack, ready for the evening, headed up to the rooftop bar to have a drink.  Around 5:30, as I was about to go to meet him, Zack came back in the room looking as if he had seen a ghost and eaten bad Chinese food.  Zack found this restaurant in an Italian guide, which sited this as one of the best restaurants in Florence.  The restaurant had $$$ which the travel guide explained was going to be around $100 or more per person.  Zack thought that meant the price would be around $300-$400 in total.  Out of curiosity Zack started reading more about the restaurant on his phone and saw some reviews.  One review stated the food was excellent, but get ready to mortgage your house to pay the bill.  Another stated that the food was great, but was equivalent to two payments on his BMW.  Zack read on, only to realize that the costs… are you ready… averaged around $800 per person!  Zack came back to the hotel room, with his head down almost to the ground. He started by explaining his predicament to me and continued to say he was still willing to proceed with the evening as planned.  After nearly swallowing my tongue over the cost of the evening, I pleasantly explained to Zack there was no way in hell I would let him pay that much for any dinner.  Unsure of where the night would lead us, the three of us headed out, and I had no care in the world because I was with the two handsomest, nicest, interesting, smartest, and engaging children any Mother could have. We ended up finding a very charming restaurant with outdoor seating.  The food was excellent.  We had course after course, wine, Champaign and more.  My kids presented me with cards, which they created, and a beautiful pair of earrings; gold ones, which came from the famous “Gold Row” in Florence.  The dinner concluded with a wonderful dessert, candle included and a singing of Happy Birthday, which the entire restaurant joined in on.  The evening was everything I hoped and dreamed for.

The stark difference between Ireland and Italy was people’s desire to make others happy.  My former husband could not have demonstrated any more clearly the effect of someone who had no regard for others’ feelings and that was a common theme of our marriage.  On the other hand, my children could not have shown how simple and wonderful it is to be nice.  I guess if I had one major question about life, it would be: why can’t people be nice to those they love?  Some are not, and it makes everyone around them suffer, but there are those that show love and compassion towards each other and that, frankly, is what makes life worth living.                 

Going Home

You may say you think you will go home, but you never really believe you will!

It had been five years and I had come to understand that kids were transferred to other institutions; some graduated high school and were released to the world, but it seemed no one went home for good.  Most of us had come to the painful understanding that we would never go home, because nobody at home wanted us. Until the day I actually left, I firmly believed my first chance to leave Maryville would come with my graduation from high school, an event that was still six years away.

The summer of 1957 was unremarkable in almost every way.  I had been at Maryville for five years and the rhythmic nature of life there meant surprises were far and few between. In fact, most of us feared the routine changing, as we had learned that any surprise or change in our lives was likely to be a punishing, painful, and sad experience.

One sticky and uneventful day that summer, I ran into my sister Kathleen in the yard.  Kathleen was a high school student and I just finished 6^th grade.  She started to tease me, telling me she knew something I didn’t.  I kept pressing her to tell me what she knew.  Finally, she told me that Mother had applied to Catholic Charities and requested that my sisters and I be allowed to go home permanently.  I looked at her in disbelief… “Are you telling me the truth?”  She said she was.  I asked Kathleen if she knew when this might happen, but she said she didn’t know.  I ran and found my younger sister Suzanne and told her.  I truly doubt she believed me.

A week or so later, I got up from my nap (required in summer because of the fear of children catching polio) and meandered down to the yard to play baseball.  We were playing against another hall, but I don’t remember which one.  I was assigned to 1^st base for that game.  A girl was up to bat; she hit the ball and it was thrown to 1^st base.   I caught it and tagged her out.  She stayed on base and said I didn’t tag her, but I had and I told all my team mates that Mary Jean was out.  Even if she made it around to home, it was not to count.  I remember feeling extremely frustrated with the whole situation.  At that point a girl from my hall ran over to me and said Sister Madelyn had kept my sister Suzanne in the hall after the nap time and she wanted to see me as well.  I was very aggravated with this girl who decided to stay on 1^st base after I had tagged her out and now I was very aggravated with Sister Madelyn; the day appeared to be falling apart quickly.  I had no idea what Sister Madelyn was up to, but it had to be bad for me. I left the game and actually was happy to walk away from Mary Jean on 1^st base and ready to face whatever was ahead of me with Sister Madelyn.

I walked up the stairs to Isabelle Hall and when I saw sister Madelyn she said, “I didn’t realize you had left and gone down to play and I have something to tell you.”  Her tone of voice told me maybe this was not going to be too bad; trust me, it was an awkward sensation.  I looked at my sister Suzanne and she looked as perplexed as I did.  Sister Madelyn took us into the broom closet and closed the door.  I didn’t understand why we had to go into the broom closet, because I didn’t think anyone else was in the hall; I also was unaware that the broom closet was a good place to talk.  She started, “I have something to tell you.”    She said, “Genevieve, remember how you told me your Mother was going to take you home for good?”  I shook my head remembering my previous statement of pride and defiance.  “Well…” she said, “Your Mother is taking you home for good.”  She went on and said, “I give credit to your Mother, because many children are promised that they will be taken home, but in most cases it never happens.”  I asked her when this was going to happen and she said tonight. I had no idea how to react.  I don’t remember feeling happy or exalter or anything; I was just in shock.  Sister Madelyn told Suzanne and me to go to our lockers and clean them out and my Mother would be by later that night to get us.  So began my journey home. 

I went over to my locker to clean it out and there standing was Virginia, one of the girls in Isabelle hall.  She asked what I was doing and I told her I was going home for good tonight.  Virginia looked at me with a sad vacancy and said, “You are so lucky.”  At that moment, I realized I was lucky.  As I started to clean my locker there were a number of trinkets in there that I had guarded jealously when I thought I would never leave, but now suddenly, I had no use for them.  I looked at Virginia and asked her if she wanted these items and she said yes.  In addition, I had been knitting an orange and white sweater and it was very pretty, but I didn’t care about this knitting anymore, or anything else that reminded me about Maryville.  I felt sorry for Virginia; she was unpopular and I could see her pain in knowing that I was leaving and she was not.  I showed her how far I was along with my sweater and asked her if she wanted it to finish; she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said yes.  Giving that sweater to her was the least I could do to help her at that moment, and it felt good to do. I finished cleaning out my locker and ran back downstairs to my baseball game.  When I arrived all the girls wanted to know what Sister Madelyn wanted with me as her calling me up was an unusual occurrence.   I looked at all of them for a minute and then said I am going home for good.  They asked when and I said tonight.  We all just looked at each other not knowing what more to say.  I had lived with these girls for five years and there were just no words to describe the feelings at that moment, we just stood there.  I went back to 1^st base but if Mary Jean had run home it didn’t really bother me anymore; nothing mattered; I was going home.

The rest of the day was a blur; it was a Friday and I remember my Mother arriving to pick Suzanne and me up.  I don’t even remember saying good-by to my sister Kathleen (she decided to stay at Maryville to finish high school, Pat and Sharon had graduated from high school and were living at home) or the rest of the girls in my hall or Sister Madelyn.   I felt a little like a prisoner escaping from prison not caring who was being left behind and certainly not feeling a need to say good-by.  Suzanne and I got in the cab and left Maryville for the last time. Mother asked if we had dinner yet and we said no.  That night she took us to an Italian restaurant and I remember eating spaghetti with meatballs.  It tasted great.  I had forgotten it was Friday and as a Catholic, there was no meat on Friday, but I couldn’t have cared less about my oversight, I just enjoyed my meatballs.  Maybe God would forgive me for that indiscretion, but honestly I didn’t care.

When I arrived home that evening I learned that my older sisters Pat and Sharon were away for the weekend so Suzanne and I had the whole TV to ourselves.  We watched TV all night until it went off the air.  At that point being home didn’t feel a lot different than the many weekends I had been home previously.  But when Sunday night came and I didn’t have to go back to Maryville and …that felt very different.    When Pat and Sharon arrived home on Sunday my Mother told Suzanne and I to hide in the bedroom and we would surprise them.  When they walked in the door I heard my Mother say I have a surprise for you and I heard my sister Pat say, “It better not be the girls…”  With that I just sank down; I was so deflated.  I realized for the first time Pat did not want us home; I didn’t know why but I didn’t really care. Pat and Sharon walked into the bedroom and said hello. Pat apologized for her insensitive remark, but the damage was done. It was not a good way to start my time at home.  That was not the first or last time I would have to deal with my sisters’ insensitive behavior.  People don’t change.  I may have gotten out of Maryville, but I still felt unloved, unwanted, and on the outside of life. Some things are hard to change.

Epilogue

Years later I still continued to find much hardship, but I also found a life filled with happiness.   I lived with my abusive husband for 30 years, which came to an abrupt end with a bag packed and a note on the door.  My sisters decided to maintain a relationship with my ex-husband after the divorce, which was devastating to my children and me.  Throughout all of this came a clear perspective of my life.  A few years back I read an article about a woman who was dealing with the same situation I had endured with my husband and sisters.  The article was so similar; in fact, my friends thought I had submitted the story.  Out of this article I realized that I was not alone, and my feelings were not out of place. Life will always pose challenges and it just depends on how I meet these challenges.  I have two wonderful sons who are doing very well.  I have earned an MBA and maintain a great job with people I care deeply about.  I even play competitive tennis once a week, and sometimes a little ping pong as well… even though my sons beat me sometimes now.  When someone asks me if I am happy…  I can finally look at them, and with a resounding tone and state, YES!