Mary was the child-bride (victim) of an old-goat in his seventies. God only knows what kind of situation he’d rescued her from, since she clearly adored him. When I first met them on a ramble with Daddy when I was about ten years old, they lived with their two babies on a creek bank an old school bus that had been converted into a trailer for hunters. Two full bunks ran across one end. Twin army cots were stacked along both sides. A stove, powered by propane sat near the front door. The family’s few belongings were stored in boxes under the beds. Though I was only a kid, I could see that Mary was just a teenager. Mother later told me she was only eighteen. She was hugely pregnant. I was enchanted with their trailer, thinking how nice it would be if our family lived such an adventure.
Not long afterward, the neighborhood learned of the family’s dilemma, helping them into a small rental house not far from us. My youngest sister Marilyn was an infant at the time with rampant milk allergies. In consultation with her doctors, Mother had tried many formulas. Finally, in desperation, she and the doctor settled on a frequent feeding regimen, supplemented by feeding her warm Jell-O in her bottle, so she would still have the experience of sucking. Finally, she thrived. Young Mary, struggling with two babies under two and newborn twins and a husband averse to working, was struggling find milk for her babies. All four of her children cried all the time. The neighbors brought food in, but the newborns just looked pitiful. She was visiting one morning and told Mother she had put her babies on Kool-Aid, like Mother had, thinking it would help, but it looked like the babies were starving. Mother was shocked and explained that she was giving her baby Jell-O, not Kool-Aid, and supplementing with frequent feedings.
The church provided many cases of canned milk, as well as other food. All the children did much better. Social Services was notified. Mary got some help, though she did have four more children over the years before we lost touch with them.
We did eventually end up with that classy camper, but that’s a story for another day.
Nutsrok 
Wow! I think of how things used to be for some women….
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Wasn’t that awful. She probably never had a chance. Her young life must have been horrible if she felt like marrying that old man was okay.
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Yes, I almost know her pre-marriage life was a nightmare. In some areas, not too long ago, girls were married off to much older men for security especially if there was lots of younger children. I doubt she got much a say in whether to get married or not.
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I think it still happens. I knew one woman whose father “gave” her to her husband when she was thirteen. She had 21 children. She said he beat her every day. She said she was so glad when he was disabled by a stroke. She beat him as much as she wanted to, then.
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I feel sad for the 18 year old girl. I don’t want to call her woman. She must be such a child. It’s hard to imagine about her struggles.
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So do I. I am sure the man died much sooner than she did. I can’t imagine she’d be able to work till the kids were grown. Of course she was ignorant and uneducated. Hope kids got a chance at a life.
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Hope so.
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That’s awful. Quite a story though and to me personally? A reason birth control was invented. It’s not having a lot of children, if you can take care of them, but clearly they couldn’t; and that old guy sounds like a pedophile. He clearly liked his control whatever he was. I’m always saddened to read of a life wasted (although I’m sure to Mary, it wasn’t.) We all walk different paths and who is to say which is better?
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I think poor Mary probably came from a mess like that and saw him as an escape. He was a pedophile. Hard life for Mary and kids. Kids all looked undernourished. Both Mary and husband smoked those Prince Albert roll your own cigarettes
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A story of pain told with humour that makes reading still pleasurable. Thanks Ibeth
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Thank you for reading. I’ ve often wondered about those children. Hope they got a break. I can’t imagine Mary ever did.
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What a story! Eight children and a do-nothing husband! I’m looking forward to reading about the used classic camper.
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It was a doozy. That poor woman eventually had nine children. She did ironing for a nickel a piece. Mother hired her a few times when she could afford it. The children ran wild. However, there was one little girl named Merle who behaved perfectly. While the others tore the house down, the old fool made her sit on the sofa. He barked orders at her. “Fix your dress. Get your feet off the couch. Sit up straight.” He used her to show off his control. It was awful.
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Unbelievable!
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It was pitiful. You must sleep as poorly as I do. Sometimes I think I am the only person in the world awake.
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I usually wake up once during the night and quickly glance at blogs. I’ll think of you tonight when I’m up.
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It will be cozy knowing a friend is up. Another camper post to go up at 0540, just for you.
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I’m going to look at Reader as soon as I publish the next letter from England. I’m looking forward to reading about that camper.
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Why were you in England?
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The shipping company John worked for moved to England because of taxes. A number of Americans were moved there to ease the transition. John had a two-year contract, which was perfect for us. Our parents and siblings came to visit, as well as several friends. We also had one Christmas in England and one in Germany — hearing a lot of the music that was part of our heritage. Those were two of the best years of my life.
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Now that sounds wonderful. Who wouldn’t love that adventure?
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They moved us to England and back, helped with housing, tuition, and petrol!! It was the lark of a lifetime.
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Glorious opportunity!
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