Distracted by memories of Terrible Tom. Wattles wobbling, gobbles threatening, TT meant to hurt me. I was six. He was three and as big as me. (Bad grammar in the interest of poor poetry.) TT was Uncle Albertʻs turkey. Uncle Albert and Aunt Gertie had a farm in Vallejo. Uncle Albert bought it with the money heʻd saved from working in the circus around the country. He joined the circus when he ran away from the orphanage. It was in town, and a lot nicer than the boysʻ dormitory. Uncle Otto and Aunt Rose had jobs, menial jobs, but at least they were never sent to the orphanage. After Albert ran away, Esther and Mary were the only Schmidt children left there. The orphanage sold Mary to a banker and his family. She was three. Same age as TT when he tried to kill me. A couple of years later Esther aged out and got a nice menial job in town. Mary washed dishes and clothes and other chores her owners gave her. They gave her a wooden box to sleep in that they turned upside down in the daytime so she could stand on it to reach the sink. Mary learned how to make hats and sell them when she had spare time. She made so many that she was able to buy her freedom when she was fifteen. She became a famous Northern California hatmaker until I. Magnin put a stop to her millinery by hiring her as their hat-buyer. One day she met a burly man on a San Francisco street corner. He was a door-to-door toilet seat salesman among whose claims to fame was selling toilet seats to the Moana Hotel in Waikiki. Mary married him, bore two sons, got them through medical school, saw them get married, and have children. Mary was my grandmother. And thatʻs how Albert became my uncle, and ultimately the reason Terrible Tom terrorized me. She took up hat-making as a hobby when her boys were grown, and she used turkey feathers to decorate her hats. Terrible Tom didnʻt like being plucked. He knew I showed up with the lady feather-plucker. He blamed me because I was small and Mary was not. True story. Distracted by memories of Terrible Tom. Wattles wobbling, gobbles threatening, TT meant to hurt me. I was six. He was three and as big as me. (Bad grammar in the interest of poor poetry.) TT was Uncle Albertʻs turkey. Uncle Albert and Aunt Gertie had a farm in Vallejo. Uncle Albert bought it with the money heʻd saved from working in the circus around the country. He joined the circus when he ran away from the orphanage. It was in town, and a lot nicer than the boysʻ dormitory. Uncle Otto and Aunt Rose had jobs, menial jobs, but at least they were never sent to the orphanage. After Albert ran away, Esther and Mary were the only Schmidt children left there. The orphanage sold Mary to a banker and his family. She was three. Same age as TT when he tried to kill me. A couple of years later Esther aged out and got a nice menial job in town. Mary washed dishes and clothes and other chores her owners gave her. They gave her a wooden box to sleep in that they turned upside down in the daytime so she could stand on it to reach the sink. Mary learned how to make hats and sell them when she had spare time. She made so many that she was able to buy her freedom when she was fifteen. She became a famous Northern California hatmaker until I. Magnin put a stop to her millinery by hiring her as their hat-buyer. One day she met a burly man on a San Francisco street corner. He was a door-to-door toilet seat salesman among whose claims to fame was selling toilet seats to the Moana Hotel in Waikiki. Mary married him, bore two sons, got them through medical school, saw them get married, and have children. Mary was my grandmother. And thatʻs how Albert became my uncle, and ultimately the reason Terrible Tom terrorized me. She took up hat-making as a hobby when her boys were grown, and she used turkey feathers to decorate her hats. Terrible Tom didnʻt like being plucked. He knew I showed up with the lady feather-plucker. He blamed me because I was small and Mary was not. True story.
Posted on: Tue, 17 Sep 2013 23:34:46 +0000
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