Yinny, the Intrepid

I've written about my two favorite aunts, Sarah and Mary, and I've mentioned my parents, my children, my husband and my sister in passing. But my sister is very special to me and I want everyone to know why.

Lindy (Lynne Dee) is eight years older than I. By all accounts, she was like a little mother to me for years. As a toddler, I couldn't pronounce L's and called her 'Yinny'. Naturally, I always looked up to her and she was held up to me by my mother as someone to strive to be like. I never did reach that standard!

What was so great about this paragon of virtue? Well, for starters, she excelled in school and college, played piano and organ like a virtuoso and succeeded greatly at everything she turned her hand to. There was simply no failure for her. 

As a child, I pretty much worshiped the ground Lindy trod on. I was so proud to be her sister! To me, she was perfect. Tiny, fiercely determined to achieve, and just a nice, good person. 

When she went off to her freshman year at Indiana State, ten-year-old-me was extremely sad. But we still got to see her on weekends and in the summers. One year, she had a summer job between semesters and stayed in a tiny apartment in Terre Haute. I was allowed to spend a week there with her away from Mom and Dad. It was fabulous! She introduced me to Italian Beef sandwiches and we went to see Planet of the Apes, which affected me profoundly for some reason. (It was that buried Statue of Liberty on the beach at the end that got to me.) I treasured the entire experience; it was such an adventure for a young, small town girl!

When she decided to marry in 1966 or 67, I was sad again. It seemed my sister kept slipping farther and farther away. But when she and her Air Force husband were sent to Berlin, Germany, I was devastated. Bereft, I sent her terrible poems I'd adapted from war songs like 'Johnny's Gone for a Soldier', rewriting the verses to encompass my feelings for her and how much I missed her. I was thirteen then.

She was gone for two years. When they eventually returned to the states and pulled up in front of our house, Mom, Dad and I went out on the porch to greet them. I could hardly breathe, I was so beside myself with joy. I wanted to throw my arms around her and never let her go again. 

But dysfunctional as we were, no one touched anyone else. That distancing struck me as strange, given the circumstances. Why did nobody hug each other? That's what I wanted to do. But that's how my family was. You were supposed to keep your feelings tightly in check. No public or even private displays of emotion. Instead, I just smiled and shyly stared intently at the gray boards under my feet that our porch was made up of.

We saw her intermittently after that over the following years. She and her husband lived in Syracuse, NY for a short while and eventually he was transferred to Anchorage, AK of all places. 

Meanwhile, at home, we grew more and more dysfunctional. I had no true understanding then that my mother had some serious issues. I thought she was simply mean and kind of crazy. But back in those days, rural folk like us didn't just trot off to the nearest psychologist or psychotherapist and unburden themselves on a couch. No, we just looked the other way and dealt with it. We didn't talk it to death or even really acknowledge it much. It just was. Looking back, I'm pretty sure Mom was bi-polar among several other things and all I knew was that life at home was miserable. 

After I graduated from high school, I worked for a very short time in a dental office. It didn't work out; the dentist was well into his eighties with a rather violent temper. The 'throwing things' kind of temper. He kept firing me and then calling and asking me to come back to work. The third or fourth time, I said no. After that, I was chronically unemployed and still living at home. I was desperate to get out and away from my mother.

I wrote to my sister in Alaska and told her what all was going on with Mom and how hopeless life seemed. Shortly thereafter, she sent me the money to get on a plane to come to Anchorage. I girded my loins and bearded the lion in her den (actually she and Dad were just sitting in the kitchen as usual) and told them I was going to leave. After the shock wore off, they agreed. They paid my airfare, took me to Indianapolis and put me on a plane. I'd never flown before.

Let me say that while I might still sound bitter at times about the relationship between my mother and myself, I was finally able to forgive her. Realizing she was a broken human being, unable to help herself, I have only deep love and yes, pity for her. My biggest regret is that the knowledge of what could have been done for her came too late.

It had been a couple of years since my sister and I'd seen each other and she didn't even recognize me at first. I recognized her, though! Talk about a sight for sore eyes! She looked like an angel straight from heaven. And she was!

That was the first time she saved me. While staying there, she taught me that I could do whatever I decided I wanted to do. I only needed faith in myself and the self-discipline to do it. I also believed steadfastly in God and the power of prayer and I prayed a lot. Between God and my sister, I managed to complete a dental assisting course with good grades and began working in dental offices with a certification for 'expanded duties'. 

Perhaps that doesn't sound like that much of an achievement. But for a girl who'd been told her entire life that she was worthless, could never be good enough, was not only stupid but hopelessly retarded, it was like winning a Gold Medal at the Olympics. When I achieved that, the world opened up to me and I knew I could go anywhere, do anything I set my mind to. It changed my life entirely because for the first time ever, I had confidence. Lindy had taught me to believe in myself.

Less than two years later, I married a service man, too, and we were transferred off to Fort Hood, TX. Ten years after that and two babies later, we divorced, quite acrimoniously. After five years of ups and downs, including a second failed relationship, my sister helped me move back to Indiana with my kids. At last I was in a stable environment again. My sister kept her hands pretty much out of it, to allow me to be responsible for my own life, but she was always there when/if I needed her. 

With her mentoring, I learned that I didn't actually need a man in my life. I learned I could control my own life and raise my children in the way I felt was best for them. Lindy helped me always to know that I could, could manage my life. And I did. 

I eventually remarried and ended up here in Utah, as told in my stories above (see tabs under the top banner). My kids grew up and are living their own lives with determination and confidence. As for we two sisters, we are aging despite our best efforts to resist! 

Recently, my 71 year old sister made the decision to drive across country by herself! She drove from northern Indiana down through Missouri, on to New Mexico then through Arizona to southern Utah. It was something she'd wanted to do for a long time, driving around and visiting various places she'd heard about. Her ultimate destination was to come here to spend a month with us. I'm still amazed that she so bravely and successfully did this, especially at her age and with her health issues. And then to drive all the way back!
That's an example of her innate drive and will to accomplish.

I treasure my "Yinny, the Intrepid". I will never forget and will never be ungrateful for the courage that I gained, simply from her belief in me and her encouragement. 

Long may she reign!

"Sister is probably the most competitive relationship within the family, but once the sisters are grown, it becomes the strongest relationship." ~ Margaret Mead