A Sister's Reflections

My sister was an only child. She was 17 when I was born, and she and Sam were married a little more than a year later. So she grew up as an only child and so did I. When I was born, the folks in Fresno were sure that I was Bebe's child and that our mother claimed me to help her cover up a most shameful mistake.

Though there were many times in my life when I wished it were true, it was not. And, in retrospect, I'm glad.

Mom and I had less-than-perfect relationship. I dreamed and fantasized that Bebe actually was my mom. But what we had was better. When I was very young, I didn't quite understand our relationship. I knew Bebe was my sister, but I didn't really know what that meant.

She was my main care giver for a while, and we formed a very strong bond from the beginning. That bond was never broken.

As a very young child, I remember sitting in the bathroom watching Bebe get ready for work. She was living with us while Sam was off helping to make the world safe for democracy. She worked at Lockheed - Rosie the Riveter. And she was so beautiful. I watched every day as she put on her makeup and rolled her hair into a 'rat' in the style of the early 1940s.

I remember her in Overland Park, Kansas -- in peasant skirts and off-the-shoulder gypsy blouses, playing the guitar, singing folk songs, and feeding everyone in sight. She was not only gorgeous, she was exciting. A Bohemian, long before there were beatniks or hippies... and I thought she was the most romantic and beautiful person in the universe, at least my universe.

When I had a serious problem at home, my first impulse was to call Bebe in Kansas or Ohio. As often as not - she would answer the phone by asking, "What's wrong?" without waiting to find out who was on the line. She knew. My calls must have produced a very special ring! There were times when she didn't wait for me to call. She called me, and without even bothering to say 'hello', asked immediately what was wrong with me or sometimes, what was wrong with mom.

I have a lifetime of splendid memories. But what meant as much to me as anything was the haven that she and Sam provided. The love and acceptance from my sister always seemed to be unconditional. Very few people offered me that - only Bebe and my grandpa. Bebe and Sam always opened their door to me, were always there.

In providing that, they also allowed me the privilege of being part of a real, normal (more or less) family. And even though I grew up as an 'only child', I acquired, through the time spent in the Springer household, a younger sister and brother. And a dad; my own died when I was 13 months old. The Springer family let me be truly a part of their home, their family, and their life whenever I was able to visit and spend time with them. In doing so, they provided me with a foundation that otherwise was lacking my life.

We laughed a lot and had good fun, so much fun. Bebe and Sam introduced me to my first real boyfriend - a young sailor - one summer in Kansas, never mind that I was much too young to be out alone with a sailor (or anyone else for that matter).

In Columbus, Bebe and I were both very active in theatre: Players Club, Gallery Players... and Bebe did summer stock at Playhouse on the Green. At cast parties, they shared their Scotch with me. It was only fun getting a 17 year old drunk until the time I had an accident all over Sam's shiny clean car! Bebe thought it was a hoot. Sam was somewhat less amused and made me clean it up - while suffering a humongous hangover!