Sisters

Maria Shriver writes about her two daughters and how she is glad they each have a sister. She had no sisters, only brothers. She often felt unseen and unheard in her family. The boys got all the attention.

My older brothers and my father seemed to make all decisions in our family. I know now that my mother had her own way, especially when it came to her two little girls. Mother, quietly, raised us to be gentle, to be polite, to be kind and generous. She set the example. Gay and I had each other and we often say there is nothing we can't do together.

Recently I found a handwritten fictional story I began many, many years ago about my mother's life. As I read it again, I was taken back to those days when she told me her life story. She had a younger sister, too, but when they were teens, it seems Mother developed early into a pretty young woman who caught the eye of boys in the neighborhood. She liked to dance at the weekly parties and one of the boys always wanted to walk her home. 

Her little sister was a bit slower to enter puberty, and though they loved each other, I don't think they became best friends until they were grown and married. They had the same birthday, December 23, but Mother was two years older than her sister. One of my favorite memories is celebrating their birthday each year just before Christmas. 

Lois and Mildred, two sisters, were born exactly two years apart.

My sister is two and one-half years younger than me, but we have always been extremely close. Living on the farm and growing up with only each other, we played together every day. We never had disagreements or fights. We had no jealousy or competition between us. When I see kids fighting and hitting each other in the family TV shows, I can't imagine doing that to my sister.

Gay and Glenda with Dixie, a beautiful dog that belonged to our aunt

Mother was happy when Gay was born because she didn't want me to grow up without a sister. The whole family adored her with her curly black hair and brown eyes. We almost lost her twice. She had pneumonia while still a baby and the doctor gave up on her recovery. Later she had whooping cough. I can still hear the terrible sound of her constant coughing. The disease can cause serious and sometimes life-threatening complications in the very young. I thank the Lord every day that she lived.  

Gay is in dark skirt with her modern dance group at UGA

As a child, I had little confidence and was scared to try new things. While I was a secretive writer who never let anyone read my words, Gay was courageous. In college, she joined the Modern Dance club and one summer she won a scholarship to a dance retreat in New England.

She was asked to enter the Miss Albany beauty pageant. I was impressed when she made her pretty costumes for her talent portion. She impressed the head of the Albany Ballet. He asked her to join the company. She danced with them even though she had never studied ballet. 

Gay is a talented artist who can paint and draw and sculpt.

I have the first full-body statue she created from clay. At my niece's house is her full-body sculpture of Will, our great-nephew. 

On my wall hangs the portrait she did of my beloved mare. It is a treasure that is priceless to me. She has done pet portraits for family members. She brought much joy to others with her visual art.

 I love this little guy who sits in my living room. I am in awe of my sister's talent and ability.

The problem with being close sisters is that people assume we are of the same mind about everything. 

We were often spoken of as one being--Glenda and Gay. My brothers thought we had identical opinions. If I expressed my thoughts on a subject, they assumed Gay felt the same way. That was not and is not always true. We have differences. She is not a people person and I am. She hates to have to speak to a group, and I have no problem with it. She dislikes taking classes, and I enjoy even online classes these days. I thrive on meeting new people. She avoids them being much more comfortable with good friends.

    She dances every week and loves it. 

 She reads far more than I do. I have become an Audible fan. She also writes beautifully. I have some of her words from years ago. I wrote a poem using one of her letters. 

The Pandemic lockdown didn't bother her. She is perfectly happy with alone time. But she is happy she has had her husband, Stu, for almost fifty years. 

My sister has a master's degree in Counseling.

Her friends and family call her or turn to her for help when we are troubled. She has been a Stephen Minister in her church. Stephen Ministers are lay congregation members trained to provide one-to-one care to those experiencing a difficult time in life, such as grief, divorce, job loss, chronic or terminal illness, or relocation. 

When I want to get away and escape the problems of my life, I head to my sister's home and she and Stu welcome me. 

Glenda, the taller one, and Gay

Mother  and Gay 

She is so much like Mother. 

They are both about the same height, have the same smile and kind eyes. She, like our mother, doesn't let worries about the future drag her down. She is good at living in the moment, living today, and not stressing over what may come. If something looms over her, she gets to work on handling it. She has a delightful sense of humor and we find ourselves laughing like crazy when we are together. 

Even sisters who don't get along as children often find that when they are adults, their sisterhood ties them together in a wonderful way. Sisters share a special bond that helps them throughout life if they don't let small peeves and other people come between them. 

Rosemary Clooney sang a song about sisters. Gay and I never had a fight over a man, but I did chaperone her on her first date. 

Sisters, Sisters

There were never such devoted sisters
Never had to have a chaperon, no sir
I'm here to keep my eye on her
Caring, sharing
Every little thing that we are wearing
When a certain gentleman arrived from Rome
She wore the dress and I stayed home

All kinds of weather
We stick together
The same in the rain or sun
Two different faces
But in tight places
We think and we act as one

Those who've seen us
Know that not a thing can come between us
Many men have tried to split us up but no one can
Lord, help the mister
Who comes between me and my sister
And Lord, help the sister who comes between me and my man

All kinds of weather
We stick together
The same in the rain or sun
Two different faces
But in tight places
We think and we act as one, aha

Those who've seen us
Know that not a thing could come between us
Many men have tried to split us up but no one can
Lord, help the mister
Who comes between me and my sister
And Lord, help the sister who comes between me and my man

Sisters
Sisters
Sister, don't come between me and my man

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Irving Berlin

Sisters lyrics © Concord Music Publishing LLC

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This is one of my favorite pictures of my beautiful little sister.

 

FLAG DAY - JUNE 14 -Special to me

This national holiday is also the day I  married Hugh Barry Beall from Rockmart, Georgia. As I have said before on this blog, we met on July 4, 1963. So these summer holidays have a special meaning for me.

Dressed in my going away  suit

Barry never forgot our anniversary and always brought me a card that he carefully hand-picked so it said what he wanted to say. In the early days of our marriage we made a big deal of  our anniversary, going out to dinner and pledging our love again. But as the years passed, our celebrations became simpler and quieter. However, he never forgot and always gave me that special card. I wish I could say I never forgot, but I had a couple of times I did. 

I used to tease him and say, "You have never written me a love letter. Why don't you write me a love letter?"

His answer was, "I don't write. You write. I don't write."

But he had little ways of showing  his love. When we were together, he never let me cross the  street without taking my hand, and he often held my hand while we walked on the street. When we were in a crowd, he always knew where I was.

Gay Council, Glenda Council Beall, Barry Beall, Richard Beall

Nobody in my  family ever publicly showed their affection for each other. That was just not done. Mother was a loving person and showed her love in various ways like cooking our favorite dessert for  our birthdays. And she was a hugger.

I never saw my brothers kiss their wives or show any special affection. But Barry was never ashamed to kiss me in front of my family. He came from an affectionate family where his mother and father were outwardly loving to their children, kissing their sons and hugging them. I was enthralled with that type of behavior. He did not shy away from the word LOVE which I never heard in our house when I was growing up. 

Of course, today I think it is bandied around so much and so often it has lost its meaning. I think it sounds fake when people use it all the time to everybody they know. Some people say "I love you" to friends as they drive away and then turn around and speak of them in a manner that says otherwise. Friends who enjoy being together and have fun together talk about loving each other, but I don't think it is the  kind of love that is deep and meaningful.

I  am not afraid to tell those close to me that I love them. And I have learned in my Third Act what love really means. I suppose that wisdom comes to us as we draw closer to the time when we might lose them or they might lose us. I am happy that I finally broke that unwritten rule in our home and I was able to tell my siblings that I loved them. 

Why is it hard to tell our siblings how much they mean to us? One of  my brothers called me and told me he had been diagnosed with cancer. His voice was shaking and I'm sure mine was, too. Before he hung up, he said I love you and I said the same to him. What a huge step in sharing his emotions. He had bottled up his feelings most of his life. 

I'll never forget one of my  brothers kneeling beside my older sister just a short time before she died. He knew he might not see her again as  he lived many miles away. He poured out his heart to her, telling her all she had  meant to him in his life and telling her he loved her.

I was in tears as I  knew that was a milestone in his life and hers. I just hope that anyone reading this  post will not procrastinate, putting off  speaking to someone they love. We never know when that person might be gone and we will not have the opportunity to see them again. 

Nothing is worth holding a grudge for life. When I hear of people who don't speak to  their sisters or brothers or parents, I know there is anger and hurt that won't be resolved until they talk. And both parties suffer. Even when I  knew one of them was in the wrong, I did not stop loving my brother. 

But I have strayed from writing about my anniversary. Today we would have been married 53 years. We didn't have that 50th big party, but on our 40th anniversary, my sweet sister and brother-in-law took us on a wonderful weekend where we stayed at the Opryland Hotel and were treated to two days of great fun with two of  our favorite people. 

Barry taught me so much about loving someone and showing that love in my everyday life. I'll always be grateful for that.

Barry's greatest act of  love for me was bringing me to the mountains in 1995. We had some wonderful years here.

Are you holding a grudge against a family member? Do you want to let it go?