Mom and Shelley recently went through boxes of old papers and Mom sent me a packet. I found this theme written for my English class when I was 16. I will be interested in your comments.
A Family I have known--Well
By Jeanne Schaap
December, 1962
By Jeanne Schaap
December, 1962
We had been sitting in our places at the dining room table for several minutes and still only four faces were present. Daddy, who had called Julie loudly several times, had a look of impatience and sternness on his still young face. He is a handsome man in his late thirties with a slight graying about his temples which, my conscience told me, was from worrying about his teenage daughter. You see, he has never had one before, and I am sure it is quite a trying experience for him. But he and Mother are a great comfort for each other when the going gets rough. Mother is a very attractive woman and still looking in her twenties. I often remind her of how boys take us for two teenage girls when we're out for a drive. This seems to bring delight to her eyes and a new bounce to her steps. Other young people may label their parents "fossils" or "the old man and the old lady," but not me; they are wonderful companions--two of the most fun and understanding people I have ever known.
Even a family as close-knit and loving as ours has times when everyone seems to be at one another's throats; when usually resembling a song with all the notes in harmony, it suddenly becomes a group of notes horribly out of tune and unpleasant to the ear. I knew, as we were all sitting there and waiting for Julie, that this meal might have this unfortunate atmosphere.
Julie finally appeared like a small black storm could on an already gray sky. She whined and pouted about kicking her toe on the bathroom door. Julie was eight years old and in the third grade. She was full of life from her head to her injured toe, and whatever she did, she put her whole heart into it. At the moment, she was concentrating wholeheartedly on her misery. I glanced at Daddy and there was absolutely no doubt that he had had enough. All he did, though, was to bestow on Julie his father's unhappy look which, by the way, could make your blood run cold, and Julie's unnerving whining ceased--for a while anyway.
Daddy prayed a short, rather abrupt prayer and his voice indicated that he had had a hard day at work. My twelve year-old sister, Shelley, informed us all that the food was cold. I noticed that she had not even tasted it yet, and immediately told her so. Mother said that I shouldn't speak with such a tone of voice to my sister and Julie added "Oh, Mother!" (She doesn't like being left out things.) There was a golden silence for awhile, but Daddy feared an argument might start again, so he made an attempt at making five grumpy, grouchy people into five happy kindred spirits. He said, "How about all piling into the car next Friday, hooking up our Nimrod camping trailer, and going to Florida for Christmas vacation?"
Daddy could not have anticipated the following reactions: Julie resumed her pouting with twice the volume of before and the words "Brownie...Christmas...party" could be heard among the noises that sounded like a sick puppy. Shelley accused Julie of always whining, and Mother corrected Shelley for making a personal remark, a term frequently heard in the Schaap household. I let out a disgusted sigh, almost as long as it was loud. I made sure that everyone knew I disapproved of this idea wholeheartedly. Then it really began. Four cloudy faces turned to me and demanded my reasons.
"Do you realize that all we do is travel?" I answered, my voice rising. "In the summer we go camping; during Thanksgiving vacation we visit relatives. I'm sick of all this traveling! Why can't we be normal and stay at home for once!" Daddy looked hurt, and I knew inside of me that I didn't really mean all that I was saying. I knew that I was lucky to have parents that liked to get out and see the country we live in; to do interesting things and go to interesting places. I knew we had a wonderful time on our trips and sometimes regretted coming home. But I felt so angry and tense, I didn't know exactly why, that I had to say those things...and I went on to say more, all the time getting angrier and losing my self-control. Daddy yelled that he had heard all he would from me. He had to yell to be heard above my voice.
I felt tears start to my eyes and they stung. They weren't tears about the possibility of the trip, they were tears of guilt. I knew it must hurt my parents very much to have me be so disrespectful and ungrateful after all they had done for me. It was very painful to realize that I could hurt them so much when I loved them so much. I wanted to leave the table, but I knew that would only make things worse. So I proceeded to eat rapidly while gazing fixedly at the pattern on the china. When I glanced up, I noticed that everyone else was pretending to be concerned with their dishes, and avoiding each other's eyes.
"I have an idea," said Mother after several minutes of busy eating. Everyone's head popped up and the faces looked hopeful. We all seemed anxious for the notes of the song to come back into harmony. "How would you like it if I wrote to the Wests, the Womacks, and Nana, and invited them all to a good old-fashioned Christmas at our house. We've never done that before." Before she had finished speaking, Julie was squealing like a happy, playful puppy. Shelley began telling us exactly what she was going to write in her letter to Jane, her cousin. Daddy and I began congratulating Mother on her idea and asking her if it wasn't going to be too much work for her. "Oh, I'm already looking forward to it," she said. We began making plans for baking Christmas cookies and cakes, and for decorating the house for the gay and colorful season. Daddy told me that he guessed that the trip would have been expensive anyway, and that he was looking forward to a Christmas at home.
Where the meal had started like the Bubonic Plague, it ended like a book with a happy ending. That night as I lay in my bed, mustering up the courage to go and apologize for the childish way I had acted, my father opened the door quietly and looked in to see if I was asleep. When he saw that I wasn't, he crossed the room to my bed and said that he had come to apologize for yelling at me at supper. Who could beat parents like that! I explained with a lump in my throat that grew with every word, that I hadn't meant what I said, and I was sorry. He said he understood and he was sincere. I felt like hiding my head under the covers, I was so ashamed.
Just as I was dozing off to sleep, I heard Julie praying in the next room"...and bless Mommy and Daddy and Shelley and Jeanne. And thank you for our nice family." The End
I must add that I remember well why I did not want to go to Florida for Christmas that year: I had just started dating someone, and that someone practically ruined our lovely family Christmas at home.
Even a family as close-knit and loving as ours has times when everyone seems to be at one another's throats; when usually resembling a song with all the notes in harmony, it suddenly becomes a group of notes horribly out of tune and unpleasant to the ear. I knew, as we were all sitting there and waiting for Julie, that this meal might have this unfortunate atmosphere.
Julie finally appeared like a small black storm could on an already gray sky. She whined and pouted about kicking her toe on the bathroom door. Julie was eight years old and in the third grade. She was full of life from her head to her injured toe, and whatever she did, she put her whole heart into it. At the moment, she was concentrating wholeheartedly on her misery. I glanced at Daddy and there was absolutely no doubt that he had had enough. All he did, though, was to bestow on Julie his father's unhappy look which, by the way, could make your blood run cold, and Julie's unnerving whining ceased--for a while anyway.
Daddy prayed a short, rather abrupt prayer and his voice indicated that he had had a hard day at work. My twelve year-old sister, Shelley, informed us all that the food was cold. I noticed that she had not even tasted it yet, and immediately told her so. Mother said that I shouldn't speak with such a tone of voice to my sister and Julie added "Oh, Mother!" (She doesn't like being left out things.) There was a golden silence for awhile, but Daddy feared an argument might start again, so he made an attempt at making five grumpy, grouchy people into five happy kindred spirits. He said, "How about all piling into the car next Friday, hooking up our Nimrod camping trailer, and going to Florida for Christmas vacation?"
Daddy could not have anticipated the following reactions: Julie resumed her pouting with twice the volume of before and the words "Brownie...Christmas...party" could be heard among the noises that sounded like a sick puppy. Shelley accused Julie of always whining, and Mother corrected Shelley for making a personal remark, a term frequently heard in the Schaap household. I let out a disgusted sigh, almost as long as it was loud. I made sure that everyone knew I disapproved of this idea wholeheartedly. Then it really began. Four cloudy faces turned to me and demanded my reasons.
"Do you realize that all we do is travel?" I answered, my voice rising. "In the summer we go camping; during Thanksgiving vacation we visit relatives. I'm sick of all this traveling! Why can't we be normal and stay at home for once!" Daddy looked hurt, and I knew inside of me that I didn't really mean all that I was saying. I knew that I was lucky to have parents that liked to get out and see the country we live in; to do interesting things and go to interesting places. I knew we had a wonderful time on our trips and sometimes regretted coming home. But I felt so angry and tense, I didn't know exactly why, that I had to say those things...and I went on to say more, all the time getting angrier and losing my self-control. Daddy yelled that he had heard all he would from me. He had to yell to be heard above my voice.
I felt tears start to my eyes and they stung. They weren't tears about the possibility of the trip, they were tears of guilt. I knew it must hurt my parents very much to have me be so disrespectful and ungrateful after all they had done for me. It was very painful to realize that I could hurt them so much when I loved them so much. I wanted to leave the table, but I knew that would only make things worse. So I proceeded to eat rapidly while gazing fixedly at the pattern on the china. When I glanced up, I noticed that everyone else was pretending to be concerned with their dishes, and avoiding each other's eyes.
"I have an idea," said Mother after several minutes of busy eating. Everyone's head popped up and the faces looked hopeful. We all seemed anxious for the notes of the song to come back into harmony. "How would you like it if I wrote to the Wests, the Womacks, and Nana, and invited them all to a good old-fashioned Christmas at our house. We've never done that before." Before she had finished speaking, Julie was squealing like a happy, playful puppy. Shelley began telling us exactly what she was going to write in her letter to Jane, her cousin. Daddy and I began congratulating Mother on her idea and asking her if it wasn't going to be too much work for her. "Oh, I'm already looking forward to it," she said. We began making plans for baking Christmas cookies and cakes, and for decorating the house for the gay and colorful season. Daddy told me that he guessed that the trip would have been expensive anyway, and that he was looking forward to a Christmas at home.
Where the meal had started like the Bubonic Plague, it ended like a book with a happy ending. That night as I lay in my bed, mustering up the courage to go and apologize for the childish way I had acted, my father opened the door quietly and looked in to see if I was asleep. When he saw that I wasn't, he crossed the room to my bed and said that he had come to apologize for yelling at me at supper. Who could beat parents like that! I explained with a lump in my throat that grew with every word, that I hadn't meant what I said, and I was sorry. He said he understood and he was sincere. I felt like hiding my head under the covers, I was so ashamed.
Just as I was dozing off to sleep, I heard Julie praying in the next room"...and bless Mommy and Daddy and Shelley and Jeanne. And thank you for our nice family." The End
I must add that I remember well why I did not want to go to Florida for Christmas that year: I had just started dating someone, and that someone practically ruined our lovely family Christmas at home.
