Author's note: Some controversial issues appear in this section, just a warning. Enjoy!

The BSC Legacy - Book 1: Brave New World of High School

By: CNJ

PG-13

11: Bittersweet Thanksgiving, Part 2:

Abby:

It was soo good seeing Gram Elsie and Grandpa again for Thanksgiving! Mom's cousin, Gwen, was there too. Anna and I helped our mom and grandparents get the meal together, then I ran outside with a couple of my cousins to fool around in the leaves. It was just getting dark out and the sky turned a beautiful shade of sapphire blue, then faded into dark blue in the chilly fall evening.
"Girls..." Mom leaned out the door. "Time to eat."
"Coming..." I called and we got up and headed inside. Anna and I talked among my cousins, most of who are older than us while Mom, Aunt Judith, Gwen and my grandparents talked on the other end. I'm not sure how, but the conversation turned to their youth, at least Mom and Gwen's.
"...always felt I had to look out for you, Rachel," Gwen was saying as we wound our dinner down. The turkey looked like it had had its day and was falling apart from exhaustion, so Gram carried it into the kitchen and put it away, then Grandpa followed. "You were always wanting to change the world for the better. I think of the time you got involved in the anti-war marches in college and I worried nonstop that you'd be hurt."
"It was worth the risk, since that war was wrong," Mom took a piece of pumpkin pie that Gram handed her. Grandpa brought out a pot of tea and set it on the table. Gram passed out more pieces of pie and my cousins, sister and I dug in even though we were stuffed even more than the turkey had ever been.
"But what good came out of it?" Gwen sipped her tea. "You nearly were caught in that riot in 1973 on campus when the protest got out of control."
"That was the police," Mom told her. "The march was peaceful; it was the police that caused the trouble by spraying us with the tear gas."
"Not to mention bullets." Gwen put in. "Oh, Rachel, what if you'd been killed?"
"Just a few. No one was shot."
Listening to this was fascinating. Mom had told Anna and me about some of the seventies marches she'd been involved in since she went to college in the early seventies late in the Vietnam era and early in the second wave of the feminist movement. She even has pictures of herself where she wore the black armband in protest of that war.
"Mom, weren't you also in a group protesting about the treatment of women in the peace movement?" I asked.
"Yes, I sure was," Mom reached over and stroked my hand. "The girls...women were stuck making the armbands and the men got to prepare and make the speeches. We didn't think that was very fair, so we fought that. It took a lot of push on the part of us women, but gradually it changed once the guys saw that we weren't going to back down."
"Way to go, Mom," Anna grinned. I knew Gwen meant well, but was reluctant to get involved in things like movements and things that were risky, but changed this world for the better. I thought of all the times our BSC got involved in certain causes and helped out around Stoneybrook. Gwen looked over at us, her eyes worried and made a soft, but audible concerned sound.
"With the world going the way it is, Rachel, you need to look out for your daughters," Gwen went on. "It was bad enough back in the early eighties when you helped that girl win that case so she could get an abortion without her folks' permission...look what happened, how they got back at you." All of us looked over at Mom's right hand.
"Yes...the snakebite..." Mom peered at her hand. It has a very, very faint scar in the back. Mom had told us about that incident. It was a few years before we were born and Mom, who works in a publishing firm, was hearing about this article about a fifteen-year-old girl who was seeking an abortion, but at first the court insisted that she had to get her parents' permission. Well, these parents were staunch conservative "born-again Christians" and were violently opposed to abortion and birth control. Mom helped the girl find a good lawyer and won the case. A group of anti-choice terrorists heard about this case and picketed outside the clinic. They'd seen Mom, I guess and found out where she was living at the time and after the case was won, they were out for blood, so one of them sneaked a poisonous snake into Mom's mailbox and when Mom reached in to get her mail, it had bit her hand. Luckily Mom's friend had gotten her to the hospital quickly! Mom had had to wear a bandage for several months, then had a deep purple scar for many years. By the time the scar had started to fade, she and Dad had met and were getting ready to get married. It took a few years, but by the time Anna and I were toddlers, Mom's scar was hardly visible, thanks to a competent doctor who treated the bite.
"There's always a risk in almost anything," Gram put in. She reached out and stroked Mom's hand.
"I think it was you and Dad who gave me the courage to stand up for my beliefs," Mom told her. "I remember you always let me think things for myself."
"I wonder whatever happened to that friend you had back in eighth and ninth grade?" Grandpa asked.
"I remember her, I think." Gram nodded. "We were in a prim neighborhood in New Jersey. I think her name was Patricia and her family didn't really approve of us."
"I remember her," Mom sipped the last of her tea. "Her family moved after tenth grade. I wonder if it was partly us. Of course, her mom claimed it was her dad's job promotion."
"You were really heartbroken when she moved," Gram added. "She promised to write and give you her address, but she never did, did she?"
"No," Mom shook her head. "I suspect...her parents had something to do with it."
"Wow, that's awful," I gasped. "Like they wouldn't let her write to you?"
"I think so," Mom said sadly. "I really missed her and waited for over a year to hear from her. When she told me she had to move, I hoped she'd have her new address, but she didn't. Her parents moved without giving her the new address and that was the last I heard from her. I wonder where she is now?"
"Oh, that's too bad," I said. Poor Mom. Poor Patricia, whoever she was. I wished I had an idea of where she was, so I could somehow get the two back together again. As dessert wound down, I was feeling thankful that I had someone like Mom for my mother and that I had Anna as well. I still often missed Dad, but I'm thankful for having had him in my life.