On the Goose - Josie Penny

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and the Simpsons-Sears catalogues. I prided myself in being one of best-dressed adolescents in my hometown. This was an entirely different situation. It required appropriate clothing and I was fearful my wardrobe would not measure up.

      The next thing I remember, I was working in a huge department store for the American military. I didn’t start cash right away. They put me to work stocking and reorganizing shelves. I was quite comfortable there because I knew I was a good worker and organizer. Also, I was very intrigued about all the different things the Americans had available to them; there were hundreds of products I had never seen before! I thought they were all millionaires. I had no concept of lifestyles, culture, hobbies, or theatre. I hadn’t any concept of distance or space or anything about worldly goods and services that other human beings did. I was ignorant about everything.

      They taught me how to count back change and I caught on quickly. I actually liked the challenge of it. I was then moved to the cashier’s cage and enjoyed it very much. I had been conditioned from early childhood to always do a good job. So it didn’t matter what I did, from that time on, my work ethics were hard-wired into my brain. It’s not surprising then that I did well on the job. My superiors praised me for my work, and my chest filled with pride with the kind words they bestowed on me. I was enjoying this experience. Life was pretty good to this point.

      I thought of my wee baby at home and felt terribly guilty for leaving him. He was such a good boy and easy to care for. My babysitter seemed to be doing well with him, which gave me a little relief.

      The first New Year’s Eve we experienced as a couple was a memorable one because I was too young to be permitted into the New Year’s party. Here I was, married with a child, a home, and all the responsibilities that go along with that, yet not permitted to attend the Grand New Year’s Eve Ball! I’d been hearing throughout the Christmas season that it was quite an occasion. Keith was so upset, and decided to do something about it. He went and visited the base commander. As a result, I got a special permit to attend.

      I had never seen such hoopla in my entire life! There were fancy paper hats for everyone, lots of noisemakers, and in the ceiling there were hundreds of balloons tied into a mesh net. We had so much fun! Then at midnight all the balloons came floating down and everyone started hugging and kissing each other to the age-old song “Auld Lang Syne.” I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I loved to dance, and by the end of the night I was exhausted, but happy to be a part of the adult world. I felt grown up. I was beginning to feel joy in being a responsible young wife and mother, with family and friends; a true part of our closely knit community. This new mindset however, was about to change.

      Shortly afterward, in January of 1962, I missed my period for the third month. There was no mistaking it, I was pregnant again already. I didn’t want another baby so soon. I was just beginning to settle into this new lifestyle; caring for my husband and baby son, enjoying my job and the challenges it gave me. But, I had to face the facts. Panic set in. Would I be like my mom and have thirteen children? Was there any way I could control the number of children I had? Was there any hope? However, I had to accept my plight and go on with my life. I can do this, I thought to myself. I can find a way…. There has to be some form of birth control out here and I will find it. In the meantime I would welcome this new baby with open arms. I brushed myself off and went back to work at the American military department store.

      Then one day at work I was surrounded by several of the managing staff and told to report to the office.

      “Josie, there seems to be a discrepancy in your cash.”

      “Pardon me?” I said, stunned. What the hell was discrepancy?

      “There is fifty dollars missing from your cash that we can’t account for and we have no choice but to let you go.”

      “But Miss, I didn’t take any money. I swear!” I begged.

      I could sense that I would get nowhere by begging and had no choice but to go home. I was shattered. The little confidence I had built in myself was gone and I shuffled around like a whipped puppy for days afterward. What had just happened? I knew I didn’t take the money. I’d learned as a little girl the consequences of stealing. With my mother it was a cruel beating with whatever she could find: a huge back-hander, a belt, a willow, or a piece of backline. So I would never do that!

      Once I arrived home I didn’t know what to do with my anger. Normally it would take something drastic and over the top for me to lose all reason. I wasn’t one to hit walls or throw things, but this time I lost it. I was not only angry, I was embarrassed, and hurt. My fundamental values had been questioned, and how would I tell my husband I was accused of stealing? I paced the floor. I couldn’t breathe, all I could do was yell and scream. I was devastated. Keith felt so bad for me, but there was nothing he could do to ease my pain and frustration and that was that.

      A few weeks later I got a phone call. On the other end of the phone was my boss from the PX.

      “Josie, this is Gloria Hunt. It seems we have done you a grave injustice.”

      “What?”

      “We found the fifty dollars that we blamed you for stealing and we are so very sorry.”

      Again, I was stunned and didn’t know what to say.

      “We were very pleased with your quality of work and with our humble apologies we would like you to come back to work!”

      “Back where?” I mumbled, flabbergasted. I could feel my anger rising.

      “Here at the store,” she said so calmly that I wanted to shout and scream at her. I was losing it — again! I felt relief and sadness at the same time. I knew I hadn’t stolen the money, I knew I was innocent, but was too stunned to say anything to her. All I said was, “I’m going to have a baby.”

      Chapter 11

      Construction

      It was spring in 1962. The first year of our marriage was, to say the least, overwhelming. It’s probably a blessing that I was too busy to give it much thought. It was during that first winter that Keith decided to build a big addition onto our little house.

      I was pregnant with our second child while our property was filled with tools, lumber, concrete, and all manner of building supplies. I hadn’t seen any plans, and there’d been no conversations about Keith’s decision to build an addition onto our home. I don’t remember if we had the money or not. I didn’t ask any questions. Nevertheless, as soon as the weather warmed up in April of that first year, the construction began.

      I was beginning to get excited about the house. With the siding and roofing on, it looked huge! There wasn’t any drywall on the walls. There weren’t even any partitions up yet. There was a plywood floor and that was it for our new addition. I hadn’t any idea what the rooms were going to be used for.

      I had started a new job as a food service worker at the airport snack bar on the Canadian side near the runway. In this snack bar there were no waitresses. We prepared the food and served it from behind a long counter. I worked through the winter and into the summer until I had my second child.

      In July there still wasn’t a hospital in Happy Valley. A clinic on Hamilton River Road was the only medical service available in this somewhat pioneer town. At least for this baby I knew what was happening. When Keith dropped me off, I was in excruciating pain that seemed to go on for hours and hours. Near birthing time, Nurse Susan ordered me onto my side. I didn’t understand. I had never heard of a side birth before. However, nothing was going to stop this feisty little infant from making her way into this world. Despite the unorthodox method used, Susan did a good job delivering my baby. On July 23, 1962, our first beautiful daughter was born. I didn’t have a name for her at first. A few days later someone handed me a book of names. I searched through it and liked the sound of Darlene, I’d never heard it before growing up on the coast, so we named her Darlene Frances.

      After one week I returned home with my newborn and placed her in her crib. She was fussy and seemed to be more demanding than her brother had been. She was the cutest baby from the start.

      As

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