Brett Sisman's Early Memories

 I moved overseas in late summer  of my third year.  My mom's memory of moving to a new country with a 2.5 year old and a 7 month suggests it was supreme chaos.  She sent a letter to family in the states with a story of finding me outside sobbing, "What's wrong?" she wanted to know.  I responded, "Papa and Grandmother's boy is in a new country."  Obviously I missed my grandparents.  No doubt they missed me, too, because they quickly booked a flight to see me a few months later.

My grandmother described the house as having a shower, restroom and laundry room combined.  The drain for the shower was in the floor of the bathroom.  One could sit on the toilet and shower.  The problem with the system was the drains did not work well. After a shower the floor flooded.  After draining a load of clothes from the washing machine, the floors flooded.  Sometimes flushing the toilet the floors flooded.  Hence, we had shower shoes without soles to prevent our feet from getting wet.  It was a challenge to potty train little boys who hated getting their feet wet walking into the flooded bathroom.

The house was heated with coal in a stove central to the living room.  The coal soot filled the air of the house; all of the houses and stores were heated thusly, thereby filled the outside air with cool soot.  My grandmother became ill from the coal soot necessitating a phone call to the local doctor.  When he saw my little grandmother, he said (with tears in his eyes), "Please make her eat. She is too much over skinny."  To help her get well he brought along his nurse, built like a Russian tank, who gave her an antibiotic.  Grandmother said the needle was a foot long with a square end.

I am also reminded of the time my mom heard my little brother crying. "What happened to your brother," she wanted to know.  "I told her, "You really don't want to know!"  How did I think of that comeback?

During those years we walked to the beach often.  My mom was
scolded for jogging  and for attempting to eat downstairs in the cafe; the women and children were to eat upstairs. The downstairs was strictly for the men.

My overseas grandfather rode a donkey up in the mountains to haul wood down for the fireplaces.  Neither grandparents could speak English.  But they had no trouble communicating love to us.

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