The Catholic Church promoted sex for proreation instead of recreation in hopes that those of the faith would overwhelm the other religions. My mother was a devout Catholic. She gave birth to six children through the 1950s. Our family car was a Ford station wagon and my father child-proofed the spacious car by affixing aluminum tubes to the windows. Other motorists regarded the pale blue vehicle as undercover transport for the Maine reform school system.
I stared back at them as if I were a prisoner, even if my parents were taking us to Old Orchard Park, the Pine Tree's State playground by the sea. Their expressions kaleidescoped between pity and horror, as they wondered what heinous crime had been committed by the children incarcerated in the Ford station wagon.
"The youngest convicts in Maine." My grandmother joked every time we departed from her house in Westbrook and I sat in the back planning my escape. None of my attempts succeeded in gaining freedom. My father and mother were vigilant, but on one trip from Boston I wandered from the family car at a rest stop to go the bathroom. when I came out of the toilet, the Ford wasn't in the parking lot.
Free at last and within two seconds I was near tears. I was only 7. Kids my age were told every day to not speak with strangers and now I was surrounded by only strangers. Luckily a toll booth operator spotted me before a band a gyspies. My father realized one of us was missing and returned to the rest area at 100 mph. Top speed for the Ford. I was glad to see him and sat back in the moving cell with relief.
Freedom would have to wait until I was ready for it.
At age 11.
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