... where family is the source of humor!

Reflections About My 'Older Sisters' by Ilene McCoskey

Allow Ilene to take an opportunity to reminisce with a story somewhat focused around her childhood days and some people that had an impact on her life. Sentimental, endearing, and humorous too!

I grew up in a house directly across from a local Catholic school and church. Subsequently, my parent's neighbors were the parish nuns and priest.

The nuns wore the older outfits; full head covering, long black flowing dresses with a rosary draped off one side. My brother and I would play Hide and Go Seek in the back yard of the convent with the nuns. A wee tot back in those days, I would hide in the tallest one's skirts by wrapping myself into the folds similar to a caterpillar in a cocoon. It was not until Sister Theresa joined their group, a few years later, that I saw for the first time nuns had hair. [Please recall; I was a small child, so never thought about nuns having hair as their heads were always fully covered.]

I assigned myself to be their helper when they did their weekly ironing although I doubt if they regarded my presence as actual help. In retrospect, I was likely a hindrance comparative to a child while on a family trip plaintively whining "Are we there yet?" from the back seat.

They had one of those things the priest would sprinkle Holy Water over parishioners during certain services. I do not know what name of the item is technically within the church, but the nuns recycled an older one for dampening their linens when ironing. I waited a tad impatiently, for them to finish an item so I could sprinkle the next one for ironing. Wiggling on my seat clutching the prized 'helping the nuns' item while asking every other minute, "You ready for me wet something?"

These nuns, in a way, were a part of my family. Them already called Sisters I thought neat as well. I somehow warped that to mean they were my sisters . . . just like the one with whom I shared a bedroom with.

On Christmas Eve, they would stop by our house before those of us, who still believed in Santa Claus, were ushered to our beds. One year the nuns gave me a little pink mechanical dog. When you pressed a button on it's 'leash' and it would walk and bark; press the other button and the little dog did a back flip then boasted happily over this feat.

I thought this was the neatest thing ever invented! I proceeded to test the lifespan of the batteries in it until my mother announced it was time for me to take a bath. After all a kid had to be nice and clean for Santa even if the kid would be sound asleep during the magical but once a year visit.

When my mother came in to check on my progress, she stopped dead in her tracks when catching sight of me in the tub. "Ilene! What in the hell are you doing?"

My mother then turned a fine shade of red due to the embarrassment of ``accidentally`` cussing while the nuns were visiting. Too late to correct what had happened thanks to the speed of sound as her words swiftly carried down the hallway. Next thing I knew, I quickly had gained an audience in the bathroom.

Three sets of eyes twinkled, revealing the truth of how humorous they found the situation over seeing me in the tub with that prized puppy toy rather well. My mother's eyes also 'twinkled' during this scene, but I think it is a safe bet that it was not a happy twinkle. I was a smart child so avoided looking at my father, so I cannot comment if his twinkled with merriment or anger.

A few minutes passed as they debated with my parents about who would be the lucky one to press either of the buttons. The little dog toy sat in the middle of the floor creating a fine puddle while it patiently waited and my mother briskly slipped a nightgown over my head. Finally, the decisive moment to test the toy had arrived. Instead of the happy routine of four steps before emitting a "Yip! Yip! Yip!" sound then repeating the actions . . . the poor water laden toy took one painful step and "I! I! I!"

I started crying when hearing toy dog had lost its 'yip'! In addition, its back flip . . . well, it mustered only two before all it would do, that would be even close to a flip, was fall over onto its side. The nuns told I had a unique toy dog, as it was likely the only one could talk about itself or play dead. This oddly helped ease my crying a little bit.

I have so many wonderful memories of those three women! Such as the time they took my brother and I trick-or-treating.

They borrowed a black outfit (the long dress one, not a suit) and hat that the priests used to wear when out on daily business or errands for my brother's costume. I snickered at him about being dressed up like a girl as he stood there the outfit while they fussed over his appearance. As expected, this comment had him casting a wicked glare in my direction.

Naturally, since they would be taking children out to gather treats, they would have to dress up for Halloween as well! They wore a clear face mask of a woman's face that had hints of blush, lipstick, and eye shadow. They were - in other words - 'dressed up' as nuns!

Every Halloween, I smile as I watch the kids darting from house to house in a quest to gather treats. In my mind's eye, though, I am seeing a glimpse of a little curly red-haired child, tripping every so often in her excitement on the hem of the costume, tugging at one or the other of the women's hands chanting "Come along, Sister!" The night air filled with the laughter of three women revealing their delight about life while walking with two young children around the neighborhood.

Yes, I have some great memories from my childhood.

Dedicated to Sister Mary Luke, Sister Marie Daniel, and Sister Vincent Marie.

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Our Lady Of The Lost And Found
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What would you do if a woman showed up in your living room announcing she is Mary, the Mother of God? Would you let her stay for a week to rest? In this fictional novel, that is the premise.

Children have never been good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.
-- James Baldwin

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