The conditions for my family and the community they lived in were beyond poor in the 1960s. Homes were run down, few with electricity and/or indoor plumbing. Nothing more than shacks sitting in between trees and brush; people and families lived together in groups of several generations. Few people had cars. This was the home we were left with. My parents survived during those suffering times. We tried to survive as a family, but it was not meant to be. The government had grand ideas about my family. Grand ideas about how they were going to make us better.
Robin had looked out for me for as long as I remembered. Drawing water from an old hand pump, she made sure our faces were clean and hands washed. She would help me dress in the few clothes that I had, shared food with me when food was available. We were all skinny. I was told years later that we were all malnourished. We would hold hands when things were bad and loud. We would hide together if things got worse. We would play when all things were good. Robin would always protect me as best a 3½ year old could. Robin had dark wavy hair and was kind. No pretty clothes. Robin at that time was a year older than me and my Big Sister. I know that she was doing what any big sister would do, but I think now that maybe she was better than most?
Our family never had the average things that children had, as I see it now. There was no money. We had an old car in the front yard. The car was gutted, old and rusty, but it was a place to go and play in, like a fort. It was a toy for all of us, torn seats, not much glass, no motor or hood. My older brothers and sister would push it back and forth as I pretended to drive. We would play with the few old toys we had, never new. Robin had an old doll that someone had given her, dirty and bare. It was hers. We would play tag in the woods chasing each other with laughter. I fell a lot. We had no play swings or sand boxes or bicycles. We played in the dirt with old spoons and discarded cans. There was a small hill running down to the nearby lake. An old bicycle wheel found – no tire, just rim – it was rolled down that hill and we would chase behind. Skinny dogs would sometime join us as we played. We would carry the rim up the hill and roll it again. Sticks were carried for imaginary protection. We would throw stones at things. We would look at things; birds, flowers and trees, insects or the clouds going by. Clouds always made me wonder and smile. There was always smoke in the air from sacred fires. Maybe a car would drive by with people we didn’t know, their heads turned, eyes wide and looking. We would imagine where everything or everyone was going. Maybe I imagined too hard about where things were going?
Later that spring strange people came to our home. Many people were talking in the old run-down house, some were talking loudly. We waited outside, right outside. The older brothers and Robin not understanding what to think. The younger ones too young to know. I remember that voices were always loud when things were not right. What was wrong? What did we do wrong? All I knew, something was wrong. There was no laughter that day. I remember tears. Many things happened that even Robin would not be able to help me with. A few of us had new clothes to wear. The older brothers were taken away by relatives that lived nearby. Robin wore a white flowered dress and had tears in her eyes as she and Kimberly were led to a car, taken by strangers. Brown paper bags with clothes were put in the cars. I don’t remember what happened to Darwin.
That day I was given a bath, given a little red suit, white button-up jacket, matching pants and a button shirt, and new black shoes. My hair combed. I was put in the back seat of a car by a stranger along with a brown paper bag with my clothes. The door shut. I looked out the window from the back seat. … I saw a robin fly by.
Daniel “Tags” McTaggart is a graduate of UW-Stout and has made Chippewa Falls his home for over 40 years. Most of his time is taken as owner of Machine Industries in Chippewa Falls, but he has always loved sharing stories and making people smile! For more about “Tags,” reach out to him at dgmctagg@yahoo.com.