(A writing assignment for an online Genealogy Writing class in 1998 through Virtual University)

by Shirley WILLIS Deem

I was 8 years old when Dad started to realize he had a little girl and began to write, telephone, and send Christmas and birthday gifts. I was so proud to show my friends the gifts he had given me. "I had a father, and he loved me", the gifts would shout!

Before my mother, grandmother and I moved to Colorado, we lived in Southern IL, where I was born. Prior to our move, I barely remember Dad's brief comings and goings. I had really grown quite accustomed to being without a father figure in my life, so when he started to come back into my world, I was very thrilled! My mother wasn't.

The first time I actually "saw" Dad after his new attention to me, I was 10 years old. He was passing through Colorado on his way to California, and stopped by to see me. He planned to surprise us, so he didn't announce his coming. At that time, we were living in a small cottage behind a huge apartment house. I was playing between the big house and our cottage when this strange man came into the yard. I glanced up, and our eyes locked. We just stood there staring at each other...questioning each other with our eyes. This man looked so familiar, yet at the same time a stranger. The electricity of the moment was high, and it seemed like time stopped for a moment. Cautiously, but slowly I said, "Dad"? He had been trying to see his little girl in this 10 year old standing before him, and now full recognition had come. We ran to each other and embraced. I'll never forget the joy of finding my Dad again.

He stayed a few hours to visit, and began getting ready to leave. Once again, he was walking out of my life! I began to beg him to stay, and he suggested I could go with him if I wanted! This was exciting, "my Dad wanted me... he wanted me to go with him to California"! My mother was distraught at the thought and needless to say, after an angry exchange of words, he finally said I could come visit him some other time. I was somewhat satisfied with that, and he left... again.

Between the ages of 10 and 12, Dad and I communicated by letter and phone, and I felt that I was getting to know him better. It was always exciting to hear from him. One such contact, he asked me if I would like to come visit him in Indiana for the summer. He lived in Indianapolis.

It was the summer of 1948. School was out and I had just completed the 6th grade at Garfield grade school in Colorado Springs, Colorado. I was 12 years old and Dad called to ask if I could come visit him in Indianapolis. Of course, I was excited! I hadn't seen him since that brief visit 2 years earlier, when he was passing though on his way to California.

This was such an unbelievable thing to be traveling by myself! To make the actual trip alone was so exhilarating, I could hardly contain myself. Dad told Mom that the Travelers Aid Society would look after me on the trip, and deliver me to him at the train station in Indianapolis. Mother knew I would be so disappointed if she refused to let me go, so she relented. Mom told me later that she died a thousand deaths, not knowing how the trip would really go. Since becoming a mother myself, I know the anguish she must have felt.

The day arrived, and the excitement was high. At the train depot, in Colorado Springs, we waited for the "Rocket". All trains had names, and the Rocket went to Chicago. (When we moved from Illinois to Colorado, we traveled on the "Colorado Eagle" via St Louis) The Rocket finally pulled into the station, and I was so anxious to go, but, what was this? A new feeling was there now that I hadn't felt up till now. I was feeling a little homesick for my mother, and I hadn't even left the station yet! I couldn't let it show, for fear she might not let me go.

She gave the conductor a $5.00 bill to get a pillow for me, and to keep an eye on me til I reached Chicago. That was a lot of money for Mom, though not much by today's standards.

If one has never ridden on a train before, the experience is a lifetime memory. The smells are so unique, it really defies description. I only know, if I ever smell that smell again, I will immediately know it. A few miles after we were underway, a vendor came down the aisle with a cart full of sandwiches, candy and drinks. Those who could afford it, walked down to the diner, where you could get a very nice meal served to you. Of course, I ate from the vendor. As the miles flew by, the constant clickity clack of the rails was hypnotizing. The country side changed from mountains, to rolling hills, to flat "nothing". We traveled all night and I dozed a lot on my pillow.

The Traveler's Aid Society had instructed mother to tell me not to get off the train - that someone would come on the train after me. I dutifully assured her that I would comply with all warnings. As we neared Chicago, we passed by miles and miles of many run down old grey shanties. I had never seen anything to compare to them in real life before. So many sad, dark, lean-to's, we seemed to pass them for hours. I felt a little sad to know people, and even little children, lived in conditions like that. We slowed the pace now and air brakes were squealing, steam was coming from beneath the car I was traveling on as we pulled into Chicago... I believe it was the "LaSalle Street Station", I was beginning to feel very uneasy by now.

People on the passenger car where I was riding, gathered all their belongings and departed. I waited as I was instructed. After all, someone would come on the train to get me...wouldn't they?. No one came. Finally, a cleaning lady came on the car to clean the train. She said, "what are you doing on here, the train is getting ready to pull out in just a few moments?" Panic hit. I told her of my instruction, and she said that regardless of my instructions, I had better get off! My hands were clammy, and my heart was beating out of my chest, but I headed for the end of the car to exit. As I came to the rear of the car to depart , someone came up and asked me if I was Shirley Willis. Boy, was I glad someone knew me! The instructions had obviously been mixed up. They had been told to wait for me to get off the train. Because of my delay, I had missed my connecting train to Indianapolis. The representative informed me that my next train had departed, and was rather disgusted with me for the extra trouble it would cause.

Very little was said, or explained to me as we left the station. I was just told to follow them. What else was I to do, but follow? We got into a cab and drove for what seemed to be hours. I had no idea where I was, or where I was going. Everything was so strange and dirty and scary... I wanted my mommy!!! Finally, we stopped at a large brick building and walked up the long steps to the entry. On the right side of the door was a sign that said, "The Chicago Home of the Friendless". Now, I was really worried. I really felt quite friendless at this point in time. As it turned out, there were only children there... probably like a foster home. I got acquainted with the other children, had a lunch, and played ball out in the back yard. I was wondering if my mother knew where I was. They told me that both my parents were sent telegrams informing them of the mishap. I was relieved to hear that my dad would be meeting me in Indianapolis tomorrow.

Dad met me at the train station in Indianapolis, and all was well. We went home to his boarding house where he roomed with a buddy. His landlady had prepared a cot for me in the living room, and she had promised to keep an eye on me while Dad worked. It looked like this might be alright after all.

He babied me, showed me off to his friends, and I felt so important. What an adventure I could share with my friends when I got home. Dad took me to Riverside Amusement Park, and we took pictures of each other. Unknown to me at that time, Dad was beginning to run out of things to do with me... the new was wearing off in other words. He was a perfect part-time father, but not much on the constant - always - there - no - matter - what, type. He began to leave me in the evening with his buddy and his girlfriend, or the landlady.

Then he had a great idea, he would take me to visit Grandma and Grandpa Willis in Southern Illinois! That sounded great, as I hadn't seen them since I was around 5 years old. I just didn't know how we would get there, as Dad didn't have a car. I was soon to find out - we hitchhiked! Of course, Dad had always done that, so it was no big deal to him. If he wanted to go anywhere, and didn't have a car at the time, he hitchhiked. So, off we went, with our thumbs stuck out in the direction we wanted to go. For a while, we didn't have too much trouble getting a ride, but when it began to get dark, not as many people were on the road. We sat and we waited. After dark, a car finally stopped and offered us a ride. It was a car load of young rowdy men/boys, drunk as skunks! By this time, I'm sure Dad knew he had made a big mistake, but there was nothing to do but go as far as they would take us. Thankfully, this all took place with no mishap.

Grandma and Grandpa's house was such a relief to see at last. They lived in the country and had cows, horses, chickens, etc. I loved animals of all kinds. This was right down my alley! Dad left me with them for a couple of weeks, to get his bearings I suppose. I did enjoy it. A cousin, Laura Iva, a little younger than me, was visiting too. Her mom and dad were separated at the time, so I guess she was there for convenience sake also. We did have fun chasing chickens and feeding the cows and horses corn...which was a no no!

Grandpa was an early riser.... before the sun came up! I remember one morning, I woke to a sight that is imbedded in my memory. The house was still dark, but Grandpa was silhouetted against the screen door in the living room. Perhaps he was contemplating his day ahead of him, or maybe he was even saying a prayer. All I knew was, he had on his bib overalls, and the pink rosy hue of the sun coming up that morning behind him, was like a painting... a masterpiece. Words defy description of this moment. It's strange how such a simple point in time can remain with you forever.

Grandpa was a no nonsense type guy. If you were there, you worked! So, off to the garden Laura Iva and I would go to help him stake green beans. My cousin didn't really like it, but I didn't mind, I was learning new things, plus I was with my Grandpa. I really relished the time with them, It was such a different world being there. They were so "old fashioned", it was intriguing to me. Milking the cows every morning and every night. Using the cream separator, ugh, what a job to clean. All these are very poignant memories that I would not have had, if Dad had not decided he needed a break from "fathering", and brought me down to see them.

Dad came back to get me after a couple of weeks, and we returned to his home. I was learning some things that I could not have learned any other way, about myself, and about Dad. I learned that Dad had a low tolerance, and though he loved me, he could only take this contact in short bursts, and needed some space for a while. I learned that I could be resilient and adjust to a lot of changes if I had to. I also learned that there is no place like home. (Dorothy, in the Wizard of Oz) I appreciated my mother so much more after that. It's funny that it takes some experiences like that to make you more aware of those you take for granted. Mom was always there, caring for me, loving me. It was she who worked hard to provide for my needs, and didn't get tired of me. (If she did, I never knew it)

As a child, I did not realize that it was Mother, and her alone who provided for me. Dad never supported me financially, nor provided any help at all to my mother for my needs. Only with gifts, and calls, and the TRIP did he ever spend any money on me during my growing-up years. Reflecting back, especially after having had children of my own, I have really learned to respect the sacrifices my Mother made. Dad is gone from my life forever now. He died of cancer at the young age of 52. I loved my Dad, but I love AND respect/appreciate my dear loving, sacrificing, dependable Mother. Thank God for her!