Beech Tree News Network

I baked a small turkey this weekend, and as I was pulling the last of the meat from the breast, I came across the wishbone.  I thought of my sister, Mona, like I always do when I see a wishbone.  When we were younger, she would always have one of us pull the side opposite hers in order to see who could walk away with the bigger piece.  She always won.  (For those of you not familiar with the tradition, the wish would be granted to the person who ended up with the largest piece of the bone.)  You would think with that pile of soon-to-be granted wishes at her disposal, Mona’s life would have been charmed.  Nothing could have been further from the truth.
    Mona is the second of my three biological sisters.  There is also a stepsister and two half-brothers who make up the rest of my siblings, seven of us in all.  In a large family, there is always some sort of competition.  You can often see it play out in sports, just look at the Williams sisters and the Harrison brothers, but sometimes the competition isn’t healthy.  My dad was an extremely competitive person, and he and my stepmom would often pit one of their children against another.
    My biological sister, Rhonda, and my stepsister, Lorrie, were in the same grade in school.  When report cards were sent home, my stepmom would hold them up side-by-side and read the grades aloud.  Rhonda always fell short.  Mona and my oldest sister, Marsha, were on the same church softball team.  My dad always bragged on Marsha and never said a word about Mona.
    Mona always seemed to have so much trouble.  She was a bit out of step with those around her.  She was always in her own little world, and if I had been picked on like she was, I would have created my own little world too.  My dad and my stepmom were always on her case about something, whether it was stirring her coffee too loud or not making her bed properly.
    Once, Mona was helping Marsha and my stepmom cut up tomatoes for juice.  Mona cut herself and started bleeding.  My stepmom yelled at her and said, “If you can’t do it right, we’ll get Cheryl in here to show you how it’s done!”  I was eleven at the time, Mona was sixteen.  Even at eleven, I realized my stepmom was using me to humiliate my sister, but I was too afraid not to obey her.  I felt so sorry for Mona as I watched her sweep the floor, a job my stepmom thought she could “handle.”  I think I still carry the guilt of that incident to this day.
    When Mona went off to college, far away from my parents, she began to shine.  She majored in speech and theater, becoming part of a group who were also a bit out of step with the rest of the world.  She had her struggles, like we all do, but today, she and her husband own a very successful business in north Indiana, with several rental properties on the side.  Mona manages it all herself, and was even able to put back enough to pay cash for the nice house she and her husband had built on their property.  Mona doesn’t believe in debt, probably because she got her fill of being under somebody else’s thumb.
    One of the impressions I carried with me from my childhood was the importance of inclusion.  I learned that lesson by watching the devastation exclusion causes its victims.  I have often found myself in situations where I have to choose between standing with a person who has been unfairly singled out or standing by and saying nothing.  Every incident in which I have stood silently by still plays over in my mind and serves to remind me to take a stand next time.
    One day, my granddaughter and I were playing mermaid dolls.  She had them all lined up against the back of the couch.  She decided we were going on vacation.  She gathered all of the dolls except one.  “What about her?” I asked.
    “She doesn’t get to go,” she answered.
    “Well, I’ll just stay here with her,” I said, “Cause I don’t leave anybody out.”
    “Okay, she can go,” my granddaughter conceded.
Later that afternoon, I heard my granddaughter playing with the mermaids again.  “Everybody get ready, we’re all going on vacation,” she said, “Cause we don’t leave anybody out.”
    If I teach her nothing more than that, my work on earth is done.