My Mothers of 209

By Sheila Leonard

209—the place that was full of good food, laughter, and lots of people. I wish I had listened better and asked more questions, but now they’re gone. My story is about my mothers. All four of them are strong, giving, and tenacious women. Can you imagine knowing you’re dying and asking your best friend to take your child without giving financial support? I was that child, and I thank God I was given to the right mothers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781984574695

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Copyright © 2019 by Sheila Leonard.

ISBN:             Softcover                978-1-9845-7470-1

                       eBook                      978-1-9845-7469-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 01/12/2019

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CONTENTS

Forward

209

Edna 1910-1953

Mommy

Patrick and rhe Swing

Conclusion

Dedications:

To my Heavenly Father, in Jesus’ name, Thank You.

Marques (my son, my heart).

Shea, Bobby, Robhea, and Nycolas, who bring laughter and love to my life.

Carla, I love you.

Special thanks to Vilma, who graciously gave of her talents.

Dr. Jean Foster, my mentor.

Dr. John Bell, who triggered a light bulb in my head that let me know I could do this.

My sister angels: Myrna, Sandra, Linda Lou, Cynthia, and Janie, who are always encouraging me.

To my St. Paul church and day care family.

To all the angels at Stephanie’s Angels.

To the families who have allowed me to care for their children.

FORWARD

I look at their pictures and I know they were alive and I was with them.

Grief is like childbirth, each person’s is different.

Give yourself a few minutes to remember your loved ones and then get up.

209

209 Bloomfield Avenue in Montclair, New Jersey was where I lived during my childhood. 209 was where the women connected. 209 was magical; it was full of laughter, tears, shouts, good food, and most of all good people. 209 was a place of safety, love, discipline, and hope. My mothers made 209 a secure place for me.

209 was an apartment building which was built in the 1890s. I know this date because at the top of the building it had a cement slab with the date. I would look up at that date and think, This place is really old. 209 was located in what people called Lower Montclair as opposed to Upper Montclair where the rich folks lived. In those days, Bloomfield Avenue was full of small businesses. There was a funeral parlor right across the street, a shoe repair shop next door, a liquor store down the street, a hair dresser, and a pharmacy where I would get great tasting ice cream. There was even an American Legion Hall across the street where old men would go and gamble. 209, itself, was housed in front of a car dealership. I remember looking at cars from the back porch where I played. Oh yes, there was also a holy-roller church next door. This church was completely different from our own staunch Episcopal church. This church was loud, the music lively and scared the mess out of me and my niece, Carla the one time we visited and somebody got the spirit. Our street, also, had a small grocery store that I got to frequent a lot. You see, one of my chores as a child that I hated was that of store runner, with my list, money, and wagon. I hated going to the store because inevitably someone would forget something and I would have to go back. At a young age, I could even buy cigarettes for my mothers. There were no age restrictions at this time of the early 1950s. The one store, where I did not mind running errands, was the fish market. I liked walking through the sawdust on the floor.

It was at 209 that I made the most important decision of my life. I was only three at the time. My birth mother was dying and my future mothers asked me if I wanted to stay and live at 209 with them. I remember I was sitting on the living room floor in front of their Philco radio when they asked me that crucial question, Do you want to stay here and live with us? I said, Yes.

One note about my upbringing at 209 with my mothers that I think is lacking in some of today’s family units. I am an early childhood teacher and I come into contact daily with parents that allow their children to rule. Some parents are afraid to say no to their children. Growing up, my mothers gave me responsibilities starting at a young age. I had chores