Marie at 1 Write Way

Five Things About My Sister Charlotte

Me and Charlotte, circa 1981

Birthday

Yesterday, October 7, would have been my sister Charlotte’s 80th birthday. I meant to write a blog post celebrating her birthday. I felt that weird sort of self-consciousness that social media provokes: if I don’t publicly share what I’m doing, did I do it? By not writing a public post on my sister’s birthday, I can’t prove I thought about her that day. Trust me, I did.

Hurricanes

It wasn’t just her birthday that prompted me to think about Charlotte. It was also the hurricanes—one past, another on its way. Charlotte had lived in St. Petersburg, FL, in a mobile home park. If she were still alive, she’d be evacuating right now, trying to get as far away from Hurricane Milton as possible. Maybe.

When she was alive, and hurricanes had the Tampa Bay Area in their sights, I’d worry about Charlotte. I’d call her, ask if she had someplace to go. She’d get impatient with me, arguing that I didn’t need to worry. She’d argue that she didn’t have to evacuate, but then she would wind up staying with friends. I’d feel relieved but also guilty.

We didn’t have the kind of relationship where I’d drive almost 300 miles to pick her up and whisk her away. We didn’t have the kind of relationship where we were willing to risk being stuck with each other.

Health

It wasn’t always like that. Twenty-some years ago I spent a couple of weeks with her while she recovered from heart surgery. We had fun. We watched old movies, ordered pizza, ate Kentucky Fried Chicken. It was like a two-week slumber party.

While she was in hospital, I cleaned her tiny trailer, shampooing the worn carpet, replacing old appliances. And I cried. She was widowed by then, and she didn’t seem to have many friends. At least, not many that she could count on. I didn’t know yet that when she was very drunk, she wasn’t very nice. I cried because I saw how she was living on the edge. I wanted to fix things for her. I paid off her credit card that was several months past due. I told a bartender at the establishment she frequented that she had had heart surgery and should limit how much she drinks. I left her cash so she could pay her bills. I treated her like a child, much like our mother did.

History

Charlotte was almost 13 when I was born. Growing up, she was sometimes my favorite sister, sometimes not. I always saw her as tragic, fragile, fatalistic. Our mother infantilized Charlotte. Really, there’s no other word for it. My sister Shirley didn’t give our mother a chance. She went to nursing school and then married at 19, putting herself on the same playing field as our mother.

Charlotte, well, she was unlucky in love. She first married a guy who dealt in antiques and taught me how to pick the strings of a guitar. He was quiet and patient with me so I liked him.

Until Charlotte acknowledged that, yes, rape does occur in marriage. I was 12, a budding feminist, and I felt a chill when she responded affirmatively to what I had just read in a book. She didn’t look at me, and I had a fleeting image of her in a dark bedroom pleading No.

During that first marriage, Charlotte came down with scarlet fever. I didn’t know until years later that it was our mother who insisted that Charlotte go to the hospital. Her husband, apparently, was content to let her lie in bed. The fever weakened her heart, and she was told that she should never have children. All she ever wanted.

Sisters

A desire for children was something I never shared with either of my sisters. Maybe because I was the youngest. By the time babies entered my life—through my sister Shirley—I had turned inward, wanting to just be left alone. My family was crumbling. I was old enough to see that something was wrong with my dad, but too young to understand what it was. I was afraid of my mother and her cold temper. My brother was a boy.

Occasionally, I’d spent a night or two with Charlotte and her first husband. I guess it was my mother’s way of getting me out of the house. I remember Charlotte going with me to a quarry for clay and then making a mess of her kitchen trying to make little pots. I remember her being patient with me and quiet. And sad.

It’s taken me 67 years to realize that Charlotte and I were not destined to be friends. We were too alike in the wrong ways. Both of us had a wild side, no doubt spurred by our mother’s over-protectiveness. The things I didn’t like about myself, I saw in Charlotte: a tendency to drink too much, to judge, to be mercurial. I saw Charlotte as the woman I might have become if Greg hadn’t entered my life.

We’d been drifting apart when Trump decided to run for president. He made certain we wound up on different continents. Once Charlotte understood that I liked Obama and I didn’t like Trump, I was persona non grata.

And yet, I keep remembering our last phone call. How she called me “dear” in between her gasps for breath. How I wanted to say I love you but didn’t.

Thank you for reading. I’m very behind on reading, and I appreciate your patience as I try (and likely fail) to catch up.

Please keep everyone affected by hurricanes Helene and Milton in your thoughts and prayers. I’ve been reading wonderful things about World Central Kitchen if you want to help by donating: https://wck.org

If you’re interested in donating to local groups, readers at Modern Daily Knitting (MDK) offer great suggestions in their comments at this link: https://ctrk.klclick.com/l/01J9DXTXVV963JVJXDYBWSBNV1_13

Stay safe!

Sunbathers.

Marie A Bailey

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36 responses to “Five Things About My Sister Charlotte”

  1. Once they are gone we tend to question how a relationship could have been improved. The fact is that the relationship was as it was. No amount of looking back can change how two people interacted. The challenge is to sift through the painful parts and concentrate on the best memories. Wishing you peace, Marie.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. … if I don’t publicly share what I’m doing, did I do it?

    Made me smile with that line. Of course you did something without sharing it publicly, would that more people would follow your example.

    Your relationship with Charlotte is probably more common than not. I say that as an only child who listens to friends talk about their siblings and how as everyone gets older, relationship dynamics change. We all grow in different ways, despite wanting to remain close to people, sometimes we just can’t. And we must not.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you, Ally. I’m glad I made you smile 🙂 While volunteering after a flood in his home area, he posted on FB (and I paraphrase): “If I don’t post a selfie of myself volunteering, did I really volunteer?” Whenever I start to feel amiss for not immediately sharing a photo or a story, I think of what he wrote and then shrug.

      Relationship dynamics definitely change over time. Shirley and I got closer, Charlotte and I did not. I used to “party” with my brother. Now I want him as far away from me as possible. I am grateful that I got to talk to Charlotte a couple of times while she in the hospital. Those times I realized I didn’t have to like my sister to love her.

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  3. A couple of years ago I realized that I treated my younger (than my older) brother like my father did. I teased him in a mean way and I always pictured ending up having to take care of him. Truth is he is doing well, taking care of his job and home, he adopts difficult to adopt dogs and is great with them. I’m careful now. I try to be more kind and less telling him what he should do. I trust him more and although I encourage him to see the doctor I let him make his own decisions without pressuring him. And I accept him as he is. That was hard. Dad taught me my brother was less than, weak, not good enough. And that’s bull$hit.

    I relate to your relationship with your sister and I’m glad I had the time to make some changes in mine. Please understand that I’m not criticizing you. I was telling someone else about Dad’s mean jokes when I realized I still treated him like that. It’s not like Dad was kind to me, more like he set me up to put my brother down. So I was lucky. I’ve had a chance to change things. He will never come here but if I was well I’d go see him.

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    • Thanks, Zazzy. I totally understand how our parents can condition us. My mother could be quite mean. I don’t know that she intended to hurt. My husband thinks she didn’t know any better, being the middle child of 12. In any case, I did see her treat my sister like she was incapable of making her own decisions. I’ll never understand their relationship; it’s like they were co-dependents.

      I’m glad you were able to change how you see your brother. I hope you’re in touch so he knows that you care. They say, it does take two to tango. I never knew when I called Charlotte whether I was going to get Happy Charlotte or Mean Charlotte. Maybe if our political differences hadn’t been so vast, we could have found common ground. But I did call her and send her cards so she knew I cared … even if she didn’t want to admit it. 😉

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      • It seems to me that you tried to let her know you cared. I’m sorry she couldn’t seem to meet you half way.

        Brother and I at least have similar political beliefs. Both of them do, actually. I get along with both well enough. I’ve never been certain what Dad believed.

        Liked by 1 person

        • Yeah, Charlotte was a bit of an open book. If she didn’t like you, you knew it.

          Generally my family was close-lipped about national politics but would have animated conversations about local politics. I do know my mom did not like Trump so visiting my sister for a few months every year could be hellish since Charlotte liked to have the TV on 24/7 and while Trump was president, it was Trump 24/7. Mom would retreat to the back bedroom to get away from it 🤦🏼‍♀️

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  4. So poignant, Marie. I can understand loving your sister, but not liking her or wanting to spend time with her, especially with the huge political divide.

    So funny when you wrote a mobil home park in St. Petersburg–my husband’s grandparents retired to one there. We visited them when we were engaged and first married. I’d thought of trailer parks as not very nice places, but this place was beautiful! I don’t know if they ever experienced a hurricane or what they did.

    I’ve donated to World Kitchen before. They do good work all over the world.

    I hope you the hurricane doesn’t affect you too much. Sending hugs. xx

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you, Merril. The last mobile home park that Charlotte was in was definitely nicer than her previous one. I think the management was more active with the community. Charlotte had lived in St. Pete for more than 30 years, and I think she was able to ride out most if not all hurricanes. Still, with MIlton, it’s the storm surge that people are most worried about. Possibly 12 feet or higher. It’ll be catastrophic if the predictions hold.

      Liked by 1 person

      • You’re welcome, Marie!
        It’s so scary! 😔
        I saw one of my former spin instructors is holed up with her family and dog at a Disney hotel. She said it’s built to withstand all sorts of things, and they stayed there during another hurricane.

        Liked by 1 person

        • That’s good to know. I’m not sure I mentioned how one of my former professors stayed at Holiday Inn here in Tallahassee during Helene. He didn’t have to evacuate. He just wanted to stay with other people (his wife died last year) in a building that would be sturdier than his own.

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  7. This quiet meditative essay—even the hard parts—was beautiful to read. Thank you for offering it to us. Family is the most complicated thing. My cousin is taking a course in family systems, which I think is brilliant, because I can see how our generations-back family dynamics are affecting us in ways we’re undoubtedly unaware of. I’d at least like for my mistakes to be ones I knowingly choose. :)

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  8. You are brave to share such hard-to-convey realities. Often our thoughtful reflections on such subjects can be cruelly misconstrued. I thank you for speaking your thoughts – I relate, but in my own way, under my own circumstances, etc. I guess what I’m saying is you wrote of the ‘human condition’ with truth, dignity and grace. What a way to honor your sister!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Laura. I try my best to be clear, knowing that someone somewhere will “cruelly misconstrue” my words. It’s a risk, but this community here has proven to be a safe place for me … and so I take the risk. Thank you so much for your kind words ❤️

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  9. Another fascinating look behind the curtain of what my grandmother and Aunt were really like. It’s somewhat shocking to hear how they really were, the imperfections and insecurities and sadness that we all face at times. I never knew my Aunt couldn’t have children, probably because it never came up and I never really asked. I sort of knew that things happened to Aunt Charlotte that weren’t her fault, especially when her second husband died. She was happy then, even if for a few short years.

    Thanks for sharing Aunt Marie, it’s sometimes hard to hear how it really was but also somehow comforting to fit some more pieces of the puzzle together.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Brian, for reading and sharing your thoughts. While I try to be factual, much is filtered through my own experiences, my own imperfections and insecurities. But this is what makes us human and why I believe we still care for people who might have hurt us, why those people still need our love.

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  10. Relationships between siblings can be – and often are – so complicated. I think we often feel pressure to remain close to them, even if we have very little in common. I have two older brothers and while I would do just about anything for them, I’m especially close to just one. The other… well… Trump.

    I know this post must have been difficult to write but I hope it helped give you some peace.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Janis. I did feel pressure to be close to my sister. Quite a few of my cousins are close with their siblings. My mother saw that and wanted it to be the same for us. But you can’t mandate closeness. ❤️

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  12. A sad but beautiful tribute to your sister, Marie. It’s sad when you come to a realization of what could have been and what didn’t happen. I wasn’t close to my siblings growing up.

    I hope you are safe where you are.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. This is so heartbreaking.

    I think after a loved one you (meaning me) have a difficult relationship with passes, you don’t have to fear the harm or toxicity or arguments or silence (etc) any longer. The relationship is has been given boundaries automatically. Then we can accept the good stuff more readily. If they are still alive they can still come up with new ways to hurt us, intentionally or not. And we have to keep up those walls (because that’s what not saying I love you is) up for protection until they are gone.

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