Rosie Stories: Life in the Dormitory, Part 1 by Barbarann Ayars

Post #61 – Rosie’s Daughters: The “First Woman To” Generation Tells Its Story by Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett

Stories of the Lives of Rosies

Kendra and I put out a call for stories of Rosies. We got some wonderful ones and will eventually put them into an ebook. But rather than wait until we can get that done (always more time consuming than we anticipate), we are sharing them on this website.

Today’s story is a bit unusual and so we decided to put half of it on our WomensMemoirs website and the other half here. Why? The author, Barbarann Ayars, has written this story from her perspective as a child. That makes it the memoir of a Rosie’s Daughter. At the same time, we learn a great deal about what life was like for her mother and many of the Rosies so it is a Rosie story.

If you started on this website, read the first half of the story here and then follow the link at the end for the remainder of the vignette. This is a fascinating story that rings true for many people whose parents found it difficult to provide for their family during The Depression and then had to figure out how to cope during the war, even though there was more money.

Thank you Barbarann for sharing this story.

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Life In the Dormitory: Getting There (Part 1)

by Barbarann Ayars

I stand in the foyer holding tightly to my little suitcase packed with a change of clothes, my nightgown, toothbrush, and slippers. I wait for Mama. This is my fourth birthday; she’s taking me to Elkton, Maryland where she lives and works. We’re taking the train! I can hardly stand still. I put down my suitcase, run to the window, climb onto the window seat and watch for her.

“Let’s go, Barbarann,” Mama calls as she enters the orphanage. I jump down from the window seat, so happy to see her. She reaches for my suitcase with one hand and stretches her other hand out to me.

I take her hand as we go outside to the taxi waiting to take us to the station. Mama smiles at my enthusiasm; I’ve never been on a train. We arrive in time to hear the train thundering into the station blowing steam and bell clanging. It makes the hair stand out on my neck. I climb right up her body as I shake with excitement and terror.

“Oh, get down! It’s okay; the train won’t eat you!” She pulls me off.

The engine is huge, a shiny black monster breathing hard as it paws the ground, waiting for me. Once it stops and the doors open, I scramble up the steps into its Pullman car and follow Mama down the aisle. She stops next to an empty row, lifts me up onto the seat next to the window, and puts my suitcase onto the shelf above my head. She places a small hamper beside it and sits down next to me.

“What’s in the hamper, Mama?” I didn’t even notice it before.

“We’ll be on the train until after dinner time,” she tells me. “Our lunch is in there.” She reaches to smooth my hair and retie the ribbon as she tells me there’s plenty to eat for later. I’m not hungry anyway. I’m too excited.

I stare out the window as the train moves forward with a lurch. I skooch closer, thrilled to have Mama all to myself. My siblings are still at the Home for the Friendless Children orphanage. This is my special time. The train picks up speed and the whistle blows loudly as our journey begins. I smooth my pinafore, pull up my frilly socks, and wipe the dust off my Mary Janes. It’s a hot August day, but I don’t care. I feel all grown up, with the pink bow in my yellow hair. Mama opens the window to let in a breeze.

“Don’t I look pretty, Mama?”

“You look very nice, Barbarann. All the girls will fall in love with you.”

She’s talking about the women she supervises. They had, she said, asked to see her little girl, so that’s why we’re on this trip. I don’t care why; I’m with my mother.

“They’ve seen a few pictures of you. They can’t believe your coloring is so different from mine.” She says this with a note of what seems like surprise.

Mama is very dark, with chocolate brown eyes and jet black, curly hair. She’s not petite, but solid and big boned. There’s none of her in me.

“I’m so happy to go away with you, Mama. Will there be lots of girls to take care of me while you work? Where will I sleep? Will there be someplace to play?”

I have so many questions but she says the usual “you’ll see when we get there” that is somehow soothing and normal. I settle into the rhythmic sway of the train and soon fall asleep, its whistle piercing my dreams.

The conductor comes by to punch our tickets as Mama wakes me for lunch. A peanut butter sandwich and a cookie accompanied by two tangerines and a banana make my meal. Mama thinks I’m too thin and always brings fruit when she visits, which isn’t very often. There’s nothing to drink, but it doesn’t matter. Having lunch alone with her is my treat.

It’s dark by the time we arrive at the dormitory and I’m half-asleep. She carries me inside and puts me down on her bed. There are many young women waiting for me; they fuss over me and cover me with kisses, calling me sweet, a little beauty, a tiny princess and other words that make me feel special. I smile a sleepy smile and my mother tucks me into her bed where I drop back to sleep until morning.

Click Here to Read — Life in the Dormitory: An Exciting Time (Part 2)

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Barbarann Ayars writes: “I live in a small town in Ohio where I work with writers as I shape my memoir. Writing at Writing It Real and Writers Digest has given me such wonderful exposure to the gifts of others. I can be found at Persimmon Tree and archived at Tiny Lights, Flash in the Pan and soon in another online magazine in June. Writing consumes unreasonable amounts of time and I’m not even sorry!”