Catherine Sevenau is a writer and storyteller who is out to capture your skittery mind. She's penned three books, compiled numerous collections of family genealogy, and has been a regular columnist in the SUN since 2016. She can be reached at [email protected].
Mother was gone a short while
Chapter 63: 1950 • Sonora, California
Note: My brother’s daily entries in the months of March and April were typical of those in the past dealing with school, sports, band, and work; I only posted excerpts from part of April, where they took on a different tone.
Apr 1950 • Larry’s diary (age 16)
Apr 9 Easter Sunday, Band (H.S.) marched in uniform for the Masons to the Red Church. Went to 8 o’clock mass. Carleen got sick.
Apr 12 Had lunch at Lions Club meeting of Senior Boy Scouts. Dad got drafted to council in election
Apr 21 Carleen got a new swimsuit, blue, class meeting for Rodeo Queen tickets, big chemistry test. Played canasta all night.
Apr 22 Carleen went babysitting making me miss the teen topper club and the show.
Apr 23 Carleen and gang went to Melones on picnic
Apr 24 Mom came to my room and told me that she and dad may get a divorce and which one would I stay with. (Dad)
Apr 26 Dad told me about divorce. A student from India spoke.
Apr 27 Freshman cleaned out bleachers. Mom said goodby to me and left. Told me to tell Dad to get car at Parrots Ferry.
Apr 28 Mom in Columbia Way Hospital, everyone seems to know. German Band played for Columbia’s 100th birthday. Went to play house rehearsal.
Apr 29 Saw mom in hospital. Looks real sick. Went to Hasty Heart rehearsal got out at midnight. Bought two Sonora pennants.
Apr 30 First performance of Hasty Heart in public. Ima came to house and told me about the overdose of sleeping pills.
The back of our mother’s green wool coat receded down our front path to the alley, two brown suitcases gripped at the end of each sleeve. Dad was at work. Larry was behind his closed door. Betty was in her room crying and Carleen was in the kitchen. Claudia was curled on the couch in tears, watching me sob as my baby feet balanced on the bottom rail of the screen door, my hands clinging to the middle crossbar, my body plastered to the door mid-screen, wailing. “Mama, Mama. Nooo, don’ go, Mama. Don’ go. Peas.” I was not yet two.
She went to a hotel. That night, opening a bottle of sleeping pills, she took an overdose. This was not the first time Mom left, nor would it be her last. It was also just one of the many times she would attempt to end her life. However, it was the first talk of divorce between our parents, which was unthinkable considering Dad’s German Catholic beliefs and our mother’s fear of her mother. Suicide, however, was not unthinkable for my mother, mortal sin or not.
If Ima Deaton (a young woman Dad would soon hire to help take care of us) hadn’t come to the house and told Larry that Mother had tried to kill herself, and if Larry hadn’t made these entries in his diary, and if I hadn’t poked and prodded my family’s memories, this would have been a forgotten part of our mother’s story.
Mother was gone for a short while. On May 25 she reappears in Larry’s diary and is mentioned a number of times thereafter.
Catherine Sevenau is a writer, humorist, and storyteller living in Sonoma. The stories in this series are excerpts from her book, Through Any Given Door, a Family Memoir; the full memoir is available as a web series at Sevenau.com. A longtime Broker/Realtor at CENTURY 21 Epic Wine Country, she can be reached at [email protected]
