My sister Connie is seventeen months older than Marilyn. Β She was protective of Marilyn from the start, always giving over to βthe baby,β. She wasnβt encouraged to do it, thatβs just how she was. Β Mother awas careful not make a difference or favor Marilyn. Β In fact, she was felt bad at seeing Connie knocked out of the baby spot, so bent over backwards trying to be fair.
Marilyn had no problem asserting herself. Since Connie didnβt want Marilyn to get in trouble, she rarely hit Marilyn back or tattled on her. Β I infer this worked well for Marilyn.. Β As country children often do, one day Connie didnβt want to take time to go in and wee wee. Β She simply darted behind a tree to do the job. Β Finding an abandoned hubcap that served as a dog-feeding dish, she squatted and filled it. Β As she stood, Marilyn slipped up behind her and kicked it, splashing Connie liberally. Β Instead of smacking Marilyn like a normal kid would have, Connie just exclaimed, βDamn!β Β Marilyn was off like a shot, looking for Mother, Β Connie ,right behind her as soon as she got her wet clothes pulled up.
ββMama, Mama! Β Connie said βDamn!β Β This was big trouble. Β Mother wouldnβt tolerate trashytalk.
Mother whirled around, shocked, expecting Connie to deny the evil deed. Β βConnie, did you say, βDamn?β
βYes.β Connie whimpered. Β Had she told Mother what Marilyn had done, they would both have been swatted.
βGet me the fly swat.β Β Mother kept a plastic fly swat hanging by the back door ready for just such a occasion. Β She gave Connie two or three quick swats and dismissed her, while Marilyn stood by self-righteously. Β It was years before Connie told the whole story.
I wonder if the dogs thought βDamnβ later that day when they smelled pee in their dish.
My family: Β I am in the back row Left, holding Connieβs hands, Β Billy Center, Phyllis Β holdingΒ Marilyn Right.