Posted by Carl Jr on November 02, 1998 at 20:09:40:
My Dear Cousin Ginger,
Ever since I read the note you posted today I've been unable to
think of anything else but those two times that my mother and
father carted you off to "boarding" schools. So, I decided that
I would put down my thoughts, once and for all, and get it off
my chest!
The first time they carted you off, we lived in Hackensack, and
I couldn't have been more than 4 years old. And you were about
8 or 9? You were some of the very earliest memories that I
have. I can still catch a glimpse or two of your rosy-cheeked,
cherubic face. For all I knew you were my sister. And you were
sooooo good! You used to let me push you down the stairs and
everything!!!
As memory serves me, your mother had left you in my mother and
father's care for whatever reasons. And, as part of the love-
hate relationship she had with your mother, she resented having
Ginger "dumped" on her. So, what does she do? She decides to
cart you off to a boarding school...and use my father as the
scapegoat!
(By the way, I can remember many, MANY times, when my mother was
in a rage, and my father trying to mollify her saying "just tell
them that your husband made you do it..." or something similar.
In other words, one of my father's strategies for coping with
her was to serve as a combination scapegoat and lightning rod.)
Well, scapegoat or not, I can't forgive either of them for
carting off that little girl to a strange place, to be cared for
by strangers. Fucking over a kid, to spite an adult.
It must have been so frightening for you. I have this vague
image of the last time I saw you--I had to wait in the dining
room while they took you away. Do you know the look of someone
trying to put on a smile, while trying to hide his or her fear?
That was the look I remember on your face.
And I can remember the loooong wait in the dining room. I can
clearly remember about 20 to 25 seats, or more, around a large
rectangular table. I thought we were there to eat! And I was
impatient!!! I can remember sitting in one seat, licking the
spoon and fork. Then getting up, moving to the next seat,
licking that spoon and fork, getting up, moving to the next
seat... I'm not sure if I managed to work my way around the
whole table!
And finally, I can remember the drive home. And asking,
"where's Ginger", "where's Ginger." I don't know if I got an
answer or not. The other thing I don't know is how those two
sick, sorry people got to sleep that night.
I'm deeply ashamed and profoundly sorry for what they did to
you.
Carl Jr.