Th Neighborhood

The Hydrangea bush had grown to five feet high and just as wide providing the perfect hiding place. Giant blue flowers with large green leaves surrounded Rose. She cautiously moved one of the dark green branches peeking through, careful to stay hidden. She hoped her father would give up trying to find her. Twice a day they played hide and seek, he, trying to get her to come in and pray, she trying not to. Her Russian father and German mother had been in the United States ten years, but still clung to the religious practices from the old country. An altar dominated one corner of their front room with a three tiered table filled with candles, crosses and pictures.                                                                                                                                                

Rose didn’t see how all that praying helped; they lived on borscht and bread, and still had second hand everything. Her father was a junk dealer and what he couldn’t sell he brought home, including other people’s clothes, furniture and anything else he could get for a good price, or free. The clothes were always too big, but her father would say, “You will grow in.”  So Rose learned to sew and by the time she was 11 she could make new clothes out of the old.

                  

Her brother, sister and she weren’t allowed to use the shower or bath tub. Her father insisted they use the galvanized tub that was kept in the shower they couldn’t use. Twice a week it was hauled out and filled to wash three children. Hot water was conveniently available through the faucet, yet they had to heat the water on the stove in a kettle. Rose complained to her mom about these old fashioned ways, but was told in German to be quiet. If she complained to her father he told her the same thing, only in Russian.                  

             

 If it hadn’t been for Mrs. Smith, a neighbor who had befriended them, they would have had an even harder time adjusting. Rose’s parents spoke with thick accents making them difficult to understand, but Mrs. Smith never seemed to have any trouble.

          Mrs. Smith didn’t get upset when Rose’s mother, Ina, woke her up in the middle of the night because her husband, Frederick, had locked her out of the house. Mrs. Smith would walk Ina home and talk quietly through the door until Frederick opened up. She would make coffee in the familiar kitchen and visit until they were calmed down. Frederick would walk Mrs. Smith home, singing softly in Russian. 

          Once a month Frederick and Ina would take off in his big truck and be gone all day, leaving Rose in charge of her brother and sister. This frightened her at first, but after a few times she had it figured out. If there was a problem she would go get Mrs. Smith. Her parents always came home by supper time usually with presents or a lollypop, and since they were alone all day, the children each got a hot bath in the bathtub.

                     

 Every so often Ina would have a nervous breakdown. She would walk the streets wearing her heavy coat, no matter the weather, flailing her arms and singing in German to all who crossed her path. The neighbors soon got used to this behavior and just waved at her as she passed by. Rose would go get Mrs. Smith and she would drive Ina to the Norwalk Mental Hospital. After a few weeks Ina would come home and everything would get back to, well, as normal as it could get.

          Most of the families in the neighborhood were poor, yet the little community was close knit, mainly because of Mrs. Smith. Growing up there was like being part of a big stew filled with different cultures, customs and languages. Spanish, German, Russian, Polish and of course English could be heard every day, all at various degrees of intensity.  Even though Rose’s family wasn’t that different from anyone else’s, she always thought they were the weird family living on Bonquet Street.

 Rose realized, once she was an adult, that her childhood hadn’t been that bad. Plus, she could speak three languages, sew an entire wardrobe and had stayed sane in an insane family.