The Big House

The house they had visited in LaSalle caused Mary to reminisce about all the places she had lived while growing up. In Mary’s recollections, her mother had moved 22 times. The last time was into the tiny bungalow around the corner from Mary’s house in Toronto. Here her mother lived the last 8 years of her life. Her mother stopped driving at this time and could no longer move so finally she had to stay put.
However, for Mary, though she visited her mother constantly over those last years in this domicile, it was never quite like home to her. When her mother died Mary and her brother, both executors, had painted and prepared it for selling. Out of respect Mary had persuaded her brother to help her fix up the home. Mary had chosen neutral cream and white colours and the place had sold quickly as a result. The real estate had wanted to sell it speedily and tried to persuade the two siblings to sell it for $20,000 below what Mary wanted to list it at. Mary stuck to her guns and got almost the whole asking price. It was Toronto and the house was worth it. Mary said goodbye to the house without a second thought.
However, there was one particular home her mother lived in that stuck in Mary’s memory. The “big house” as they called it was an older frame house located in Crystal Beach just across the lake from Buffalo. It was a busy summer resort with a large amusement park with a laughing lady and all day suckers that delighted every child. This was Mary’s earliest memories of a home.
The house itself was a big old two story cottage with two huge verandas running along the front of the upstairs and downstairs. The building had been owned by some rich Americans before Mary’s parents bought it. It was made of paper thin walls that had long since lost any sturdiness and were wavy cardboard room dividers. What stuck out most in Mary’s memory was the huge grey stone fireplaces on both floors along with the laundry shoot that started on the second floor and ended up in the basement.
The “big house” became called this because a second much smaller log cabin was built on the large piece of land behind this home. Mary’s mother would rent the big home out and live in the tinier place each summer. Mary could recall the year the small home was built. Her mother had hired some local man and his helper to build it for $8,000. That was back in 1967. She also remembered her mother’s big rush to get into the new place and sleeping with no roof over their head on folding cots looking at the stars from her bed.
But it was the big house that held all those earliest childhood memories. In the cobwebs of her mind precious recollections stood out originating there. Here she recalled her two sisters, herself, and the 7 children next door running in the back fields collecting dandelions. Her sister Theresa came up with the idea of making dandelion wine. It seems ironic that an 8 year old led her two younger siblings and the neighbours in a wine making expedition. Ironic, I say, and sad, perhaps, for the example was taken no doubt from her father who was rarely sober and rarely kind. On this particular occasion their mother found out after they had pilfered a bag of sugar from her cupboard to make this concoction. Mary remembers her mom was mad, very mad and that the wine was not drinkable.
Mary also remembers Theresa digging holes in the side yard – big holes – to collect frogs. What they were going to do with them, Mary couldn’t recall. It seemed to Mary her sister was always leading them down some fun path. Mary envied her sister for being so exciting. There was never a dull moment when Theresa was around. Even now Mary was always delighted to have any time with her. It was rare these days with the distance between them.
Another recollection of the big house was of the Christmas Mary learned there was no Santa. Mary recalled sneaking down the flight of stairs to the main floor and opening the door to see her mother bending over putting gifts under the tree. It was a big disappointment at the time. Now looking back it was very sad for Mary as it seemed her father was not in the picture even then at that special occasion. Mary realized how lonely her mother must have been just from that solitary scene.
However, Mary knew her mother had much worse to deal with than this. Often beaten by her father when drunk, as her sister Martha recalled it, Mary’s mom was thrown against walls and had her hair pulled out by the roots. Martha had vivid recall. Mary did not. However, Mary did remember one time which for a long time seemed like a horrible nightmare until her brother, Joseph, told Mary otherwise.
You see the one dark, very dark memory in Mary’s past occurred in the big house. The setting was one lovely evening just at dusk when it was just becoming dim. You could barely see anything out the back windows. Mary’s father came home that way most nights drunk.
It wasn’t just that he was drunk but that he was usually angry. The children seemed use to it by now if anyone can ever get use to violence. This night Mary could recall hiding behind the big couch that sat in their living room. In fact, Mary knew despite the vagueness that her siblings were crouching behind the chairs and furniture too. Mary was holding something. What was it? She could look back and see it was a knife. In fact, they were all holding something preparing to protect themselves.
In the memory Mary recalled being frozen in place listening as her father approached the top of the stairs yelling and screaming. It was about 10 years ago after their mother died that the truth came out. Her brother held the other part of that memory. Mary happened to be sharing the bizarre dream with him at her house one night and before she could finish her side of it he blurted out his. “That’s the night”, he said, “that I hit him over the head with a baseball bat. The police came and took him away. He ended up in prison for three years after that.”
Mary had been flabbergasted. Mary was all of three at the time which made her brother no more than eleven years old. Joe had it tough and had seen a lot more and lived through much worse than Mary. After this experience Mary’s mother began her moves away from her father. These moves never seemed to stop even after her father was too old to be a threat.
Each following home they moved into held good and bad tales. But always it seemed to Mary they were on the move and running from him, from other night terrors, and from life itself.