Time spent with Dad
On the weekends, Dad would often take out my braids and brush my hair. He would tell me how lucky I was to have such pretty, long hair. He made me feel loved.
Dad always had something planned for us to do while we were together. He took us to the park, zoo, or whatever else he thought we might enjoy.
Feeding the ducks.
When we got back to Mom’s place, Mom would grab her brush and harshly brush my hair. It hurt. She would tell me it was my own fault for letting Dad take out my braids.
Grandpa Karl
I didn’t get to see my grandpa Karl very often. When I did, he was kind towards me. Once, when Grandma Helfred had made a cake, I tried to sneak some of the whipped cream. Mom scolded me. Grandpa gently put me on his lap. When no one was looking, he hurried and took some of the whipping cream with his finger, then gave it to me. Then he carefully smoothed out the whipping cream, so no one could tell what he had done. Just then, Mom saw what had happened. Mom got upset with her dad. Grandpa told her it was no big deal.
Grandpa liked to drink. It would make Grandma upset. Grandma wanted him to become Mormon like she was. No matter how much she nagged him, he would not hear of it!
Monday, April 13, 1964
Mom told Grandma to leave Grandpa. Mom had convinced her that she should find herself a Mormon. One who didn’t drink and would take her to the Temple and get married. Grandma packed her things and left.
Friday, April 17, 1964
Grandpa Committed Suicide
My grandfather, Karl, was home alone. He turned on the gas stove without turning on the flames. He then put his head in the oven and waited for the fumes to consume him. When the neighbors smelled the gas, they went into his apartment. But it was too late.
He never left a note. His death was unexpected to all who knew and loved him.
Mom cried a lot. She told us her dad had killed himself. Mom kept saying it was all her fault.
I couldn’t understand what it meant to be dead. Every time I asked for him, I was told Grandpa had gone to heaven. I wondered when he was coming back. So, I kept asking for him. Mom finally explained to me that he was never coming back. It was hard for me to comprehend. I missed him terribly!
Shortly after my grandpa died, I started to get red dots all over my body. The dots swelled, and I got sick with a high fever. Mom had to take time off from work and bring me to the doctor. He told her I had boils. He said there were usually two reasons people got it. One was poor hygiene, and the other was poor nutrition. For them to go away, she had to take me into the shower and squeeze out the infection in every boil. She then had to apply ointment to the boils and cover them with a Band-Aid. She was to do this daily until the boils went away.
When we got home from the doctor, Mom put me in the shower and started to squeeze each boil. I screamed out of sheer pain. I was so relieved when she finally turned the water off! By the time she was done, I was covered in Band-Aids from head to toe.
I couldn’t go to daycare because the infection was contagious. Mom had to stay home from work till I got better. I dreaded when she had to take me into the shower and clean out the boils. It went on for at least a week. When I recovered, I returned to daycare.
Force Fed
A few days later, when Mom had picked Sander and me up from the daycare, we ate dinner as usual. Then my mom told me to eat more. I told her I was full. Mom insisted I eat, so I started to run away from the table. Mom got angry. Then she grabbed me and tied a cloth diaper around my neck, and then placed me on her lap. She put one of my arms behind her back and held my other arm tight in her fist. Then she proceeded to force-feed me. Since I was already full, I pleaded with her to stop.” Mom slapped my face and banged the spoon into my clenched teeth. I wanted her to stop hurting me, so I opened my mouth and ate. She continued to feed me until I threw up. I was relieved to be rid of all the food she had forced in me.
When I threw up, Mom got even angrier than she was before. She slapped my face hard, over and over again. Then she forced me to eat more. I did my best to keep the food down. After she had forced me to eat, I started to gag. I was afraid she was going to hit me again, so I did all I could to hold the food down. Mom could tell I was about to throw up, so she stopped feeding me. It became our nightly routine. I hated the ordeal, but I learned not to fight it and sit on her lap and swallow until she could tell I was about to throw up.
I couldn’t wait for the weekend to get here so I could go with Dad and not have to go through this horrible nightmare!
Weekend with Dad
As usual, the weekend with Dad went by way too fast.
Monday morning, time to go back to daycare. Mom’s bike had a flat tire, so we had to walk. On the way, Mom was holding my hand tightly. I didn’t like it. I twisted my hand away from her and ran as fast as I could across the street. A huge truck was coming straight towards me. The driver had to swerve to avoid hitting me. He then pulled off the road and parked. Then he held his head in his hands. Mom ran up to me and started to yell, “Do you realize how lucky you are not to get hit by that truck?! Look at the truck driver, you upset him!” She then proceeded to pull down my underwear and started hysterically hitting my behind, over and over again!
When we got to the daycare, Mom called all the caretakers over to her. She wanted all the ladies to hear what she had to say. Mom then lifted my dress and pulled down my underwear. My bottom was exposed for everyone to see. I was humiliated! Mom proceeded to say, “In case any of you help Anne-Mette to the bathroom and see her bottom, I don’t want you to call the authorities! I want you to know her bottom looks like this because I had to spank her to teach her a lesson. She could have gotten killed! I did it for her own good!” Everyone was staring at me, including all the children who were in the room.
I was sure no one would want anything to do with me, so I kept to myself the rest of the day. I was unable to sit down for a few days because of the beating I had received.
Doctor Visits
At the daycare, there were regular visits from doctors and nurses. They would come by periodically and give us shots and do a routine checkup. Then we had to stand in line with only our underwear on, so we would be ready when it was our turn to have the doctor look at us. It happened often, so I had grown accustomed to the routine.
One day, the checkup was different. When it was my turn, the doctor asked me if I liked to eat. I didn’t know what to say, so I just looked down. Then he gave one of the caretakers a piece of paper and asked her to make sure that my mom received it.
When Mom came to pick Sander and me up, she read the note. Then she said, “This says you are overweight!” All the way home, Mom and Sander made fun of me and called me names like Piggy, Cow, Chubby, Fatso, and so on. It was as if Mom and Sander were trying to outdo each other with names they could come up with.
When we got home, I hid under the kitchen table. Mom told me to come out and have some more to eat. Sander stuck his head under the table and said, “Come on, piggy, you know you want to eat!” Then he turned to Mom, and they both laughed as if it were the funniest joke they had ever heard. I thought to myself, I am going to sit under the table and starve! As I sat there and cried, I was sure I could prove to them I would never come out to eat ever again!
(It was good that the doctor gave Mom the note because she never force-fed me again.)
Finally, Friday came, and Dad picked us up for the weekend. Sander couldn’t wait to tell Dad about the doctor’s note. While I visited with Dad, I used to dance in front of the TV because I could see my reflection on the screen. I would pretend the whole world was watching me. Dad asked me what I was doing, so I told him I was practicing because I was going to be a famous ballerina someday. When Dad heard about the note, he said to me, “I guess you won’t be waltzing on stage when you are a ballerina. Instead, you will be rolling in.” Sander and Dad laughed.
I started to cry. Dad said, “Come on, Søs, don’t take it so hard, I was only kidding!” (Søs was the name he always called me.) I couldn’t stop crying. Dad felt bad. He wanted to cheer me up, so he drove us to the candy store and told us we could pick out whatever we wanted. I didn’t want anything, so I stayed in the car. Dad said, “Come in so you can pick out what candy you want!” I answered, “No!” Dad responded, “Come on, you know you want some, otherwise how else do you think you got so chubby?” Since I was so young, I didn’t know how to tell him that Mom had force-fed me, so I just sat there and cried. Then Dad said, “Okay, Søs, suit yourself.”
When he and Sander came out of the store, they had some marzipan candy. Dad put it next to me to try to tempt me to eat some. Then he and Sander proceeded to eat it in front of me. I didn’t eat any of it. I was hurt that Dad had made fun of me. It was something I never thought he would do.
The next day, Dad did all he could to cheer me up and have a fun weekend with him and Sander.
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