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by Isabelle Bourque
A biographical memoir of my grandmother's childhood.
April, 1943
“Hurry back!” Mama’s voice echoed from the kitchen.
Anna Betschel let the screen door slam shut behind her as she stepped out onto the little concrete stoop in front of the house. She pulled her gray jersey coat tighter around herself as she stepped down to the sidewalk onto Wellington Avenue. It was still cool outside, but Anna was grateful no snow lingered on the ground. At this time of year back in Lydiatt, the snow would still be piled up to her knees.
Small, modest houses built so close together, a child couldn’t stretch out their arms between them, lined both sides of the street. As she neared the intersection of Wellington and Grove Avenue, she paused, turning to look back at her family’s new house. It was much larger than their little homestead back in Lydiatt. Faded cream-colored siding covered the narrow structure, with sage green trim around the windows. Unlike in Manitoba, Anna’s family enjoyed running water, electricity, an ice box, and even an indoor restroom here.
Crimson stains still adorned the front of the house. Back in the Old Country, a man named Adolf Hitler was intent on taking over the world, and the world didn’t like it, even here in Canada. Mama was always outside in the garden, singing old German hymns, and eventually the people on Wellington began to notice. Blinded by their own bitterness, they would toss rotten tomatoes at the house because they assumed Anna’s family was German. “Mama, don’t talk German in the yard,” Anna would plead. But Mama never cared. “They can do what they want.” She would reply with her nose in the air. “We are not from Germany, so we are not German. That is enough for me. And it should be enough for them.”
Still, the stains left on the house reminded Anna of blood, a testament to the war that was raging so far away from Windsor. Occasionally, Anna pitied Mama and Papa, who so often experienced discrimination because of their heritage. It was true that Anna’s family was not German. Her parents were Serbian and they had immigrated from Yugoslavia before Anna was born. They spoke English, Yiddish, and German, yet German was their first language. One of Mama’s best friends was Jewish, yet the people of Windsor only saw the surface of who they were, and always assumed the worst.
A cool breeze blew Anna’s hair across her eyes, and she pushed the thought from her mind. Honking automobiles and train whistles met her ears as she turned onto Crawford Avenue in town. Miller’s Drugstore was just down the street. Hardware stores, auto repair shops, and bright storefronts lined the bustling street, creating a wall of liveliness on both sides of the road.
Anna looked down at her feet as she walked. The sound of her shoes clicking against the concrete sidewalk never failed to make her smile. Sometimes she missed the open skies of the prairie she grew up on, but she did not miss the eight mile walk to town down the dusty mile road. Back in Lydiatt, Mama had always made her remove her shoes in order to keep them clean, so Anna would walk with bare feet.
Her eyes drifted upward and caught sight of a small slip of paper inching its way down the sidewalk in front of her. She stumbled toward it and picked it up to inspect it. A one dollar bill flapped in the breeze as she held it between her fingers. Smiling, she slipped it into her coat pocket, which already held some change she had earned babysitting a little boy next door on Wellington.
She approached a large, red brick building plastered with signs advertising its wares. “Miller’s Drugs” was painted in scarlet letters above the door.
A bell jingled as Anna opened the door and stepped inside. On her right was a long, polished counter with wooden barstools lined up underneath it, straight as soldiers. Behind it were shelves stocked with gleaming bottles of Coca-Cola and a variety of medicines, tonics, and glass jars labeled “Penicillin.” To her left, shelves of Campbell’s Soup, Cornflakes, and piles of cotton and rayon fabric blanketed the tables and shelves. A small group of teenagers sat toward the end of the counter and roared with laughter as a tall, lanky boy fumbled with the jukebox. The staccato voices of The Andrews Sisters echoed loudly throughout the store.
Anna made her way over to a stand overflowing with crisp, colorful magazines. Mama didn’t allow Anna to read them, but Betty and Terry, her older sisters, always went against Mama’s wishes. Betty even kept a whicker basket full of them in her house. Anna selected Photoplay, one of the most popular film magazines, and thumbed through the pages as she made her way around the store. A container filled with lipsticks of every shade of pink and red caught her eye and she stopped. Papa didn’t allow Anna and her sisters to wear makeup, but, as should be expected, Betty and Terry always sported bright lips and red fingernails. Anna picked up a rosy pink shade. I’m thirteen years old now, I’m plenty old enough to wear makeup and read magazines, she thought. She cupped the lipstick in her hand with the magazine and approached the counter where an aging, mustached man was dusting the shelves behind him with a black feather duster.
“One Coca-Cola please,” Anna said timidly as she placed her lipstick and magazine on the counter.
Without a word, the man turned and pulled a glass bottle of Coke off the shelf. “All set then?” He set the bottle down and looked down at Anna.
“Yes, sir.” She had already counted up the price of everything before approaching the counter, but she waited for the man to tell her what it would cost. A dollar for the lipstick. Twenty cents for the magazine. Five cents for the Coke.
“A dollar twenty-five.” He said, quickly scribbling her items down into a yellow legal pad.
Anna handed the man her money and gathered her things eagerly. “Thank you.” She smiled up at the man, but he had already turned his back to her and continued dusting.
Not wanting to sit near the raucous teens at the end of the counter, Anna walked to the front of the store and peered at her reflection in the window. She opened up the lipstick and turned it upward. Puckering her lips as Terry did, she applied the makeup generously. Pleased with her appearance, she smiled at herself and put the lipstick in her pocket. She picked up the Coke and flipped the bottle cap off the top, which made a delightful fizzing sound. Slipping the cap into her pocket, she took a sip and held the bottle up to the light shining through the window, delighted by the lipstick stain left on the rim.
Anna set the Coke down on the ledge in front of the window and leaned against the wall next to it. She couldn’t help but smile at herself; she felt so grown up, drinking pop and spending time downtown by herself. She began to flip through the pages of her magazine, taking in the illustrated advertisements for Plymouth automobiles, Nabisco shredded wheat, and Lucky Strike cigarettes. Articles on the American advances in the war and ads for war bonds occupied most of the pages. Anna flipped past them and studied the lists of new technicolor films that were coming to the cinema.
A bell jingled as the door opened and Anna heard high heels clicking on the polished wood floor. She glanced up just quickly enough to see the woman’s shoes before returning to her magazine. She had to finish reading it before returning home, because Mama would be furious if she brought it into the house.
“One pack of Camels, please.”
Anna’s head jerked up. She recognized Terry’s voice immediately. Her sister’s back was turned to her, so Anna stayed where she was and watched. Mama hated Betty and Terry’s smoking habits. She would be livid if she found out Terry was buying an entire pack for herself.
“Twenty cents,” said the man behind the counter.
“Just put it on my mother’s bill,” Terry replied with a practiced voice, “Terezia Betschel.”
The man's eyebrows arched in . “Very well, miss. Have a nice day.”
Terry flashed a flirtatious smile at the man and headed for the door.
Anna stepped forward. “Terry, what are you doing here?”
Terry stopped, a hint of guilt spreading across her face. She turned toward Anna and immediately relaxed. “Oh,” she exhaled, “It’s just you. Don’t tell Mama.” She pulled a lighter out of her pocket and lit her cigarette in one fluid motion. She had been smoking since she was fourteen, and now at the age of twenty, she was an expert.
Anna couldn’t help but marvel at her sister’s beauty. Unlike her, Terry was slim, with high cheekbones, porcelain skin, and sparkling blue eyes that made men swoon. Her teeth were perfectly straight and bright as city lights, and her deep red lipstick and rouge made her look like a movie star. She carried herself as though the world was watching, and she moved with a grace of movement that Anna could never master.
“Won’t Mama find out?” Anna asked, “You charged twenty cents to her bill!”
A cloud of smoke curled into the air as Terry exhaled. “She won’t even notice. I’m short on change and I need to relax,” she explained as though Anna should have known this already. She inhaled deeply. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes flitted between the magazine Anna held and her lips.
Anna stuttered, “I—I just wanted to be like you and Betty.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Terry’s head tilted back as she let out a laugh rich with sophistication and worldliness. Looking at her sister, Anna found it hard to believe Terry had ever lived on the farm in Lydiatt, digging up potatoes from the garden and wiping sweat from her brow. She was so different now, and yet entirely the same. Anna chalked it up to her travels across Canada. Terry had run away from home at the age of fourteen and managed to join the navy. She didn’t last long, however. After being discharged for misconduct, Terry returned home several years later the same person she was when she left, always headstrong and independent. Except now, she was much more cultured than anyone else in the family, even Betty. Terry and Anna shared a bed now, and late at night, she would tell Anna stories of her adventures. Anna would listen with rapt attention, entirely unfamiliar with the world Terry had experienced and fit into so well.
Terry looked at Anna with a flicker of mischief in her eyes that she knew well. “If you don’t tell Mama about the cigarettes, I won’t tell her about your magazine and lipstick.”
“Agreed,” Anna replied quickly.
“Good.” Terry winked and sauntered out of the store and into the street with a confidence that made Anna wonder how they were even related.
Anna finished off her Coke and threw both the magazine and the bottle into a trash bin as soon as she stepped outside. She would wipe off her lipstick just before she got home. Swing music melded into honking car horns as the door closed behind her, and she began to make her way back home. Mama would question her if she stayed out too long.
“Anna?” a familiar voice called from behind.
Anna recognized the voice immediately and froze. Turning quickly, she put her hand up to her mouth. “Papa! You’re home from work early.”
“Indeed.” Wrinkles had formed around Papa’s pale eyes in the last few years. He looked especially tired today. Back in Lydiatt, Papa was a farmer, a minister, and bricklayer. Now that they lived so close to Detroit, he had acquired an evening job with Ford Motor Company, which he balanced with another bricklaying job in the morning.
“You’re wearing makeup.”
There was no use in lying or trying to hide it. Papa was the most loving and forgiving man she knew, but earning his disapproval always made Anna feel unworthy of his love.
He rubbed his forehead. “You’re turning into your sisters,” he said with the smallest hint of a laugh. “Just wipe it off and throw it away before you go home. You’re too young to be wearing that in the first place.”
Anna nodded, surprised by her father’s grace.
“Now run along home. I have to pick some things up from the drugstore. Mama’s probably expecting you to help with dinner tonight.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder and stepped past her.
Anna could keep the lipstick, but she didn’t want Papa to find out about her disobedience. As the youngest daughter of her pentecostal father, she knew Betty and Terry’s obsession with fashion had become quite a burden to him. She pulled it out of her pocket and turned it over in her hand. Feeling ashamed, she made her way back to the drugstore and threw it into the same trash bin that held her magazine and empty coke bottle. She could see Papa through the window, discussing something with the man behind the counter.
Turning toward home, Anna began to walk back. She wiped her lipstick off with her hand, but the pigment left shimmery stains on her fingers. She would have to wash her hands as soon as she got home, before Mama would have a chance to notice.
Even from down the street, Anna could see Mama out in front of the house, scrubbing the tomato stains off the siding. As she approached, she could hear Mama muttering in German.
“Good. You’re home. Help me wash this off,” she huffed.
Anna shifted nervously. “I need to wash my hands first.”
Mama’s eyes darted down at Anna’s hands before she could hide them behind her back. She clicked her tongue and glanced up at Anna’s mouth, but she said nothing. Instead, she jerked her head toward the house, motioning for Anna to go wash up, and returned to her work.
Anna exhaled with relief as she stepped inside the house. Mama knew what she had done, but she didn’t despise makeup the way Papa did. Once, Betty and Terry did Mama’s makeup and hair for her, and it was clear that she enjoyed it. When Papa came home that day, he immediately told her to wipe it off, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her until she did.
Anna washed the lipstick off of her hands, took off her coat, and put on an apron. She stepped outside and picked up a rag out of the pail of murky water sitting next to Mama’s feet. They worked in silence for some time, until Mama turned toward the street and spoke.
“Joseph,” she paused, her eyes narrowing, “What’s wrong?”
Anna turned. Papa was walking toward the house, and he certainly looked upset.
“I was just at the drugstore,” he sighed, “Your daughter charged a pack of cigarettes to our bill.”
Mama’s eyes shot toward Anna, eyes burning with anger, but Papa interceded just in time.
“It was Terry. Anna would never take up smoking like her sisters.” He gave Anna a sidelong glance.
Mama’s gaze fell to the ground and her hands balled into fists. “Mein Gott, I don’t know what to do with that girl anymore. She finally comes home after five years and now she’s even more uncontrollable than before!”
Papa raised his hand to silence his wife. “We will discuss this later.” He took off his hat and went into the house.
Mama threw her rag into the pail of water and strode into the house. Anna went back to work and continued scrubbing until Mama called her in for dinner.
While Anna, Mama, and Papa ate at the table in silence, Terry burst through the door, discarded her coat, and slumped down into a chair. She smelled heavily of smoke.
“I have another date with Bill tonight.” Terry grinned.
Mama pursed her lips and kept her eyes downcast. Anna knew she was fuming inside. She was waiting for Terry to say something about the cigarettes, but instead, Terry served herself and began to eat, with no air of remorse about her.
Mama put down her silverware and slammed her fists on the table. “Theresia Betschel, don’t think you can keep secrets from us!”
Terry looked up at Mama, startled. Papa closed his eyes and sighed. “Terezia…”
“You think you can just spend our hard-earned money on cigarettes?” Mama’s voice boomed.
Terry glanced at Anna with disdain.
“Oh no, Anna didn’t tattle on you, although God knows she should have,” Mama continued, “Your father went to the drugstore and was rudely informed by the shopkeeper that a lovely young woman in heels charged a pack of cigarettes on my tab.”
Terry blinked and then straightened in her seat, daring to meet Mama’s gaze. She jutted out her chin. “I’ll pay you back as soon I have the money.”
Mama stood up. “Yes, you will. And when you do, you’ll leave this house immediately!”
Terry gasped, “You’re kicking me out? I just came home last year. You don’t want your own daughter at home with you?”
“I don’t want a daughter who takes anything she has for granted.” Mama’s voice was low and stern.
“Fine!” Terry stood up and donned her coat. “I’ll stay with Betty until I marry Bill. I thought you missed me when I ran away, but clearly not enough to let me have a little freedom!”
She flew into Anna’s bedroom, gathered a few dresses from the dresser, stuffed them into her bag, and left, slamming the door behind her.
Papa closed his eyes and spoke softly, “Terezia. Sit down.”
Mama complied and was silent the rest of the meal.
A sudden wave of sadness came over Anna. She was, at last, an only child, and she didn’t like it. Karl and Betty had each gotten married years ago, before Terry ran away, so Anna was used to not having her two eldest siblings around. Not long after they moved to the city, Joe had completed eighth grade and went to work at Woodsworth Dime Store, and he was looking into joining the Navy. Anna felt as though she lost a best friend when Joe left, because he was the closest in age to her. Terry had come home at just the right time when Anna began to miss Joe. Now she was gone again, and Anna, the youngest child of Terezia and Joseph Betschel, was alone.
“Anna. Go back outside and finish scrubbing those stains off the house,” Mama said sternly.
“Yes, Mama.” Anna didn’t dare disobey. She closed the door behind her, stepping out onto the little concrete stoop in front of the house. Picking up the rag once more, she set to work. Mama was a harsh woman, but she had lived a harsh life. Anna knew Terry had often hurt her mother’s feelings when she took things for granted. Terry had never known what it was like to flee a war-torn country and cross the Atlantic on a cattle ship, only to be scoffed at by her ungrateful daughter. Anna would never know either, but she wasn’t going to let anyone bring Mama any lower than the people of Windsor had brought her. She scrubbed fast and hard as she worked to erase the marks of prejudice and war that had been left on their little house, hoping to wash away the bittersweet memories of the past as well.
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