Mom's Wedding Day

It wasn’t long after that they got married. Mom and Dad had a ready-made family. The house was a bit small for all of us, so they added on to the house. When they got married, I was in the second grade, and the school year was coming to an end. Martha was always waiting for me to come home so we could do things together. I remember feeling bad for her being home all alone, so I asked Martha if she would like to go to school with me to meet everyone in our class. I asked my teacher and Mom if this would be okay; they both said that it would be a great idea. So the next day, Martha and I went to school. The teacher introduced her to the class, and everyone was glad to meet her. She went to school with me for the last week until school was over.

Summer passed, and Martha and I got along well. Almost every day we could, the two of us would go up to the farmyard. When summer ended, my parents had to go to the school to enroll Chris and Martha. After they had completed all the paperwork, the principal said, “Okay, we are ready to go to your classes.” My parents shook his hand, and they started for the office door. Chris and Martha followed but went with the principal. He took Chris to her class first, being that they move around in high school, and the class she was going to was right down the hall. Then he turned to Martha and said, “Okay, your turn.” She told him that in the spring she had come to school with her new sister and met the class already. He replied, “Yes, I remember that going across my desk. Well then, welcome back.”

By this time, we were at the third-grade door. The teacher saw the principal at the door, so she came and let us in. Knowing that she had met the class in the spring, he said, “This is your new classmate. But most of you met her in the spring.” The teacher showed her where her desk was, and the rest is history. There were some problems that occurred over the next nine years being in the same class, but it wouldn’t have been normal if there weren’t any problems. For the most part, we did get along.

On weekends, Martha would go to be with her mom. She really didn’t want to go, but she had to. One day, she said to me, “Wait till you see what my mom bought for me!” I knew she hated everything her mother bought for her. She said that her mom was trying to buy her love, and it wasn’t working. She reached into a paper bag and pulled out a red dress. “I don’t know what she’s thinking— a red dress, and I have red hair,” she said. She asked if I’d like it, and I said sure. It became my favorite dress. This gift-giving became a regular thing. She didn’t want anything from her mother, so I benefited greatly. As time went on, she told her dad she didn’t want to go, and he said he would talk to her mom about it. He did say she’d have to go once in a while— at least once a month—and she was okay with that.

Over a few years, it went from once a month to two to three times a year. She enjoyed visiting her mom in the summer when her cousins were there. Not long after that, her mom didn’t visit from New York City, where she lived, as often. The city is ninety miles from Shelter Island. At the time, it was a two-and-a-half-hour drive, different from today because the speed limit was lower and driving habits were different. I had to take a coworker to the airport the other night, which is on the city limit’s border, and it took me one and a half hours driving seventy miles an hour, with cars passing me as if I were stationary. Martha’s mom didn’t mind the drive; everyone loves coming to the island, especially to escape the city’s hustle and bustle. After her mom stopped visiting, I started going with Martha to see her cousins. The next summer, they bought a house on the island and lived there full-time, so we saw them much more than just on weekends. My sister felt bad about her mom but was relieved she wasn’t visiting every weekend. Her mom called often, but many times Martha wasn’t home; she was out with friends. Then Mom would tell her she had called.

Since she had more time on the weekend, she started going up to the farm with me. Grandma and Pop were so glad to see we had become friends. She learned how the farm worked and helped me with the chores that had to be done; they really didn’t feel like chores. Working on a farm was a lot of fun. Working with the animals and spending time with our grandparents was the best way for young children to grow up. I wouldn’t trade anything for the things I learned in life up at the farm. There was always something to be done, whether feeding the cows, pony, chickens, or cats. They had to be cared for every day, rain or shine, and in the winter, sleet, or snow—it didn’t matter. They needed their fresh hay and feed. Oh, and I can’t forget to add Billy the goat to that list.

I can remember the first few Christmases at our house; there were people everywhere. I had three sets of grandparents: Poppa and Grammar Price, Grammy and Grampy Stevens, and then Oma and Opa Ross, plus Mom and new Dad, and finally five children. Dad knew the house needed to be enlarged soon. They drew up some plans, and we had a larger house.

This is the addition where the front door was—Mom and Dad’s bedroom. Now it is an entry room for the house. The house now had an extra living room, two bedrooms, and another full bath, and we always called it the new part.