Somehow on that hectic crazy day of June 12, 1961
my mother, my four siblings, our dachshund Gretchen, and I
made it on the overnight train from Nakina to Sioux Lookout,
after our hasty flight from Lansdowne House to Nakina.
Nakina Railway Station
Nakina, Northern Ontario, Canada
Photo by Don MacBeath, Fall 1960
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved
All Rights Reserved
we did not have the comfort of a sleeping car with berths.
We sat up in the left front of a passenger car, occupying three seats.
Barbie and I sat in the very front with no seats facing us or across the aisle from us.
Mom and Bertie sat in the seat back to back with Barbie's and mine,
with Roy and Donnie in the third seat facing Mom and Bertie.
Poor Gretchen was stashed in the baggage car three cars behind us,
ensconced in the green toy box she had traveled in from the Maritimes.
When the train went around a curve to the left, we could see Gretchen's car well.
We wondered how she was faring in her nest of blankets inside the toy box.
We were worried because the cover of the box was down,
and she was alone in the dark.
Gretchen Claims Her Spot in the Middle of Things
An Island in Attawapiskat Lake
Northern Ontario, Canada
Photo by Don MacBeath, June 4, 1961
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved
All Rights Reserved
The train conductor stopped by periodically to chat with us,
and we kids pestered him with worried questions about Gretchen.
He assured us that he was personally checking on her and that she was doing fine.
Unidentified Rail Vehicles
Canadian National Railway, 1971
A Roger Puta photograph posted by Marty Bernard
The big excitement was the dining car!
We rarely had a chance to eat out, so it was a thrill
to go to the dining car and order from a menu.
We had cake and ice cream for dessert,
because it was our mother's thirty-sixth birthday;
but for my mother it was all about a hot cup of coffee and a few minutes to relax.
After dinner we settled down as best we could for the long night on the rocking train.
The lights dimmed in our car, and the conversation hushed and gradually ceased.
My family, exhausted from the events of the day,
dropped off to sleep quickly, but I was wired and restless.
Barbie was curled in a little ball under a blanket by the aisle,
which left me lots of room to twist and turn on the wide seat.
I turned backwards and watched Gretchen's baggage car.
I turned forward, laid my head against the cool window,
and watched the dark forest fly by,
revealed only by the faint light spilling from the train.
I moved close to Barbie, leaned my head back on the seat,
and stared at the ceiling trying to quiet my racing brain.
Images of our abrupt departure, the bumpy flight out,
the raging forest fire, and our scramble for the train
circled around and around in my mind like hawks riding a thermal.
"You're still awake," said the conductor coming up the aisle from behind me.
"Is everything okay?"
I nodded yes.
He sat on our seat with his back to the window and added,
"I just came from the baggage car. Your little doggie is doing well.
I let her out for a few minutes and gave her some water.
She was really happy to see someone."
"Thank you. She's not used to being in a box."
"Would you like to see Gretchen?' he asked.
"I bet she'd really like to see you."
"But she's in the baggage car. I can't go there."
"I'm the conductor. I can take you there."
I looked back at the car full of sleeping people.
We'd have to tiptoe through two more cars
of sleeping people to reach the baggage car.
I thought of Gretchen,
of how she would jump up joyfully when she saw me,
of how good it would be to give her a big hug,
and of how her tongue would tickle as she covered my face with licks.
It had been a tough day for her too.
But I felt uneasy.
The baggage car was dark.
No light escaped from it.
A tiny voice deep inside me was whispering,
Do not go back to the baggage car with this man.
"I promised Mom I'd look after Barbie.
I can't leave her alone," I replied.
"Barbie will be just fine. She's sound asleep."
He put his hand on my knee and squeezed it.
"Think how excited Gretchen would be to see you!"
Shocked, I instinctively drew back, scooching closer to Barbie.
"You do something nice for me, and I'll do something nice for you.
I'll take you to see your little doggie."
My throat was paralyzed.
I couldn't make a sound.
He pushed his hand firmly up my thigh.
I couldn't move.
I was stunned.
I had no idea that a man would do such a thing,
especially the conductor who had been so kind to our family and Gretchen.
He groped me all over.
I could barely breathe.
My heart beat so loudly, it whooshed in my ears.
Then he grabbed my right hand and forced it down
on the hard lump between his legs.
I was so horrified that it snapped me into action,
and I wrenched my hand away.
Anger flared in his blood-flushed face.
He leaned forward into mine, breathing heavily, and said,
"You say one word to anyone, and I'll hurt your dog."
Then he vanished into the connection to the car in front of us.
I don't know how long I sat there too terrified to move,
so afraid that he would return to our car.
All I knew was that I must stay awake,
because I couldn't risk that man returning and going after Barbie.
I had to protect my sister from that filthy, disgusting man.
I pressed against the back of our seat, determined to sit up wide awake,
and I realized there was a small gap between Barbie's side of our seat and mine.
Furthermore, there was a similar gap in my mother's and Bertie's seat
which was back to back with ours.
I wriggled my right hand between the gaps
and touched my mother's lower back.
She was stretched out on her seat sleeping deeply.
Then I found her belt and clutched it in my hand.
My relief was so strong that tears suddenly gushed down my cheeks.
If I could just hold on to my mother's belt, I'd be okay.
I'd make it through the night.
I sat in the shadowy car with my arm stuck through the seats behind me
and clung to that belt like it was a life ring in heaving waves.
I stared at the blank wall facing me, trying to block
the appalling memories of what had happened to me.
Time crept by, and then I heard soft steps coming up the aisle behind me.
I shrank into the back of the seat
and clenched my mother's belt even tighter.
The sandwich man walked quietly by me,
did a double take, stopped, and stared at me.
I froze, unable to breathe.
I recognized him instantly for he had been up and down our car,
selling sandwiches, pop, snacks, and cigarettes several times,
but this time he wasn't carrying anything.
"Did that old coot bother you?" he asked.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I couldn't speak.
"He did, didn't he?" he said through gritted teeth,
looking at my arm crammed between the seats.
"It's okay to let go. You can let go of your mother's belt."
It must have been his realization that I was gripping
my mother's belt that stopped him in his tracks.
He crouched in front of me and said gently,
"Don't worry. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again.
Just let go."
I nodded mutely and worked my hand back.
My fingers were stiff from clenching so long,
and I wriggled them to loosen them up and get rid of the prickles.
He stood back up and said,
"Why don't you try to get some sleep?"
"I can't," I said. "I have to watch Barbie.
I can't let him touch Barbie."
Tears were flooding down my face.
"He won't touch you, and he won't touch your sister.
I'll keep my eye on you both. I promise.
Now try to sleep."
I did. I fell, bone-weary, into a sound sleep
after he came back to check on us and assured me,
"Trust me. He's not coming back."
I never saw the conductor or the sandwich man again.
I didn't say a word to anyone.
Gretchen was safe in her green toy box,
stretching, yawning, then leaping up to greet us
madly wagging her tail when we opened the top of the toy box.
And then we were unexpectedly flying to some place called Lac Seul,
not staying in a rented home in Sioux Lookout as we had thought.
In the weeks and months, and years that followed
I'd think back to that night on the train and wonder:
How could a conductor molest me in a train car full of people?
How could I not make a sound, call for help, wake my mother?
And worst of all:
They knew. People who worked on the train knew.
They knew what the conductor was doing to young girls,
but they didn't do anything about it.
I didn't blame the sandwich man for not doing more than he did.
Even as a young girl, I understood that he was young,
needed his job, and the conductor had a lot more power than he did.
To this day I am grateful for his compassion in the moment
and for how he watched over my sister and me the rest of that night.
It was almost two years before I told my mother.
I was so ashamed, so mortified, so embarrassed, so disgusted,
so afraid that I had done something wrong,
so confused and so unbelieving that I hadn't screamed
at the top of my lungs and called that bastard out.
My mother was aghast: "Why didn't you tell us?
We could've done something.
We'd have made sure he never touched a child again."
We were standing in the kitchen in Sioux Lookout,
a bright, sunlit, white kitchen.
My mother wrapped her arms around me and gave me such a hug.
"You were only eleven, Weesie, such a young girl.
It wasn't your fault. You did nothing wrong.
Don't ever be afraid to tell me anything, ever again."
That night on the train changed me.
I didn't know it at the time,
but that night I became a runner.
The lights dimmed in our car, and the conversation hushed and gradually ceased.
My family, exhausted from the events of the day,
dropped off to sleep quickly, but I was wired and restless.
Barbie was curled in a little ball under a blanket by the aisle,
which left me lots of room to twist and turn on the wide seat.
I turned backwards and watched Gretchen's baggage car.
I turned forward, laid my head against the cool window,
and watched the dark forest fly by,
revealed only by the faint light spilling from the train.
I moved close to Barbie, leaned my head back on the seat,
and stared at the ceiling trying to quiet my racing brain.
Images of our abrupt departure, the bumpy flight out,
the raging forest fire, and our scramble for the train
circled around and around in my mind like hawks riding a thermal.
"You're still awake," said the conductor coming up the aisle from behind me.
"Is everything okay?"
I nodded yes.
He sat on our seat with his back to the window and added,
"I just came from the baggage car. Your little doggie is doing well.
I let her out for a few minutes and gave her some water.
She was really happy to see someone."
"Thank you. She's not used to being in a box."
"Would you like to see Gretchen?' he asked.
"I bet she'd really like to see you."
"But she's in the baggage car. I can't go there."
"I'm the conductor. I can take you there."
I looked back at the car full of sleeping people.
We'd have to tiptoe through two more cars
of sleeping people to reach the baggage car.
I thought of Gretchen,
of how she would jump up joyfully when she saw me,
of how good it would be to give her a big hug,
and of how her tongue would tickle as she covered my face with licks.
It had been a tough day for her too.
But I felt uneasy.
The baggage car was dark.
No light escaped from it.
A tiny voice deep inside me was whispering,
Do not go back to the baggage car with this man.
"I promised Mom I'd look after Barbie.
I can't leave her alone," I replied.
"Barbie will be just fine. She's sound asleep."
He put his hand on my knee and squeezed it.
"Think how excited Gretchen would be to see you!"
Shocked, I instinctively drew back, scooching closer to Barbie.
"You do something nice for me, and I'll do something nice for you.
I'll take you to see your little doggie."
My throat was paralyzed.
I couldn't make a sound.
He pushed his hand firmly up my thigh.
I couldn't move.
I was stunned.
I had no idea that a man would do such a thing,
especially the conductor who had been so kind to our family and Gretchen.
He groped me all over.
I could barely breathe.
My heart beat so loudly, it whooshed in my ears.
Then he grabbed my right hand and forced it down
on the hard lump between his legs.
I was so horrified that it snapped me into action,
and I wrenched my hand away.
Anger flared in his blood-flushed face.
He leaned forward into mine, breathing heavily, and said,
"You say one word to anyone, and I'll hurt your dog."
Then he vanished into the connection to the car in front of us.
I don't know how long I sat there too terrified to move,
so afraid that he would return to our car.
All I knew was that I must stay awake,
because I couldn't risk that man returning and going after Barbie.
I had to protect my sister from that filthy, disgusting man.
I pressed against the back of our seat, determined to sit up wide awake,
and I realized there was a small gap between Barbie's side of our seat and mine.
Furthermore, there was a similar gap in my mother's and Bertie's seat
which was back to back with ours.
I wriggled my right hand between the gaps
and touched my mother's lower back.
She was stretched out on her seat sleeping deeply.
Then I found her belt and clutched it in my hand.
My relief was so strong that tears suddenly gushed down my cheeks.
If I could just hold on to my mother's belt, I'd be okay.
I'd make it through the night.
I sat in the shadowy car with my arm stuck through the seats behind me
and clung to that belt like it was a life ring in heaving waves.
I stared at the blank wall facing me, trying to block
the appalling memories of what had happened to me.
Time crept by, and then I heard soft steps coming up the aisle behind me.
I shrank into the back of the seat
and clenched my mother's belt even tighter.
The sandwich man walked quietly by me,
did a double take, stopped, and stared at me.
I froze, unable to breathe.
I recognized him instantly for he had been up and down our car,
selling sandwiches, pop, snacks, and cigarettes several times,
but this time he wasn't carrying anything.
"Did that old coot bother you?" he asked.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I couldn't speak.
"He did, didn't he?" he said through gritted teeth,
looking at my arm crammed between the seats.
"It's okay to let go. You can let go of your mother's belt."
It must have been his realization that I was gripping
my mother's belt that stopped him in his tracks.
He crouched in front of me and said gently,
"Don't worry. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again.
Just let go."
I nodded mutely and worked my hand back.
My fingers were stiff from clenching so long,
and I wriggled them to loosen them up and get rid of the prickles.
He stood back up and said,
"Why don't you try to get some sleep?"
"I can't," I said. "I have to watch Barbie.
I can't let him touch Barbie."
Tears were flooding down my face.
"He won't touch you, and he won't touch your sister.
I'll keep my eye on you both. I promise.
Now try to sleep."
I did. I fell, bone-weary, into a sound sleep
after he came back to check on us and assured me,
"Trust me. He's not coming back."
I never saw the conductor or the sandwich man again.
I didn't say a word to anyone.
Gretchen was safe in her green toy box,
stretching, yawning, then leaping up to greet us
madly wagging her tail when we opened the top of the toy box.
And then we were unexpectedly flying to some place called Lac Seul,
not staying in a rented home in Sioux Lookout as we had thought.
In the weeks and months, and years that followed
I'd think back to that night on the train and wonder:
How could a conductor molest me in a train car full of people?
How could I not make a sound, call for help, wake my mother?
And worst of all:
They knew. People who worked on the train knew.
They knew what the conductor was doing to young girls,
but they didn't do anything about it.
I didn't blame the sandwich man for not doing more than he did.
Even as a young girl, I understood that he was young,
needed his job, and the conductor had a lot more power than he did.
To this day I am grateful for his compassion in the moment
and for how he watched over my sister and me the rest of that night.
It was almost two years before I told my mother.
I was so ashamed, so mortified, so embarrassed, so disgusted,
so afraid that I had done something wrong,
so confused and so unbelieving that I hadn't screamed
at the top of my lungs and called that bastard out.
My mother was aghast: "Why didn't you tell us?
We could've done something.
We'd have made sure he never touched a child again."
We were standing in the kitchen in Sioux Lookout,
a bright, sunlit, white kitchen.
My mother wrapped her arms around me and gave me such a hug.
"You were only eleven, Weesie, such a young girl.
It wasn't your fault. You did nothing wrong.
Don't ever be afraid to tell me anything, ever again."
That night on the train changed me.
I didn't know it at the time,
but that night I became a runner.
Till next time ~
Fundy Blue
Crossing Petit Passage to Tiverton
Bay of Fundy, Nova Scotia, Canada
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved
For Map Lovers Like Me:
Location of Lansdowne House, Nakina, and Sioux Lookout
Northern Ontario, Canada
Lac Seul
Northern Canada
Google Maps Map Data 2018
To See a Photo of Lac Seul Click Here
.jpg){kind=link}
What a disgusting individual! He needed to be behind bars. That they did nothing is appalling.
ReplyDeleteHe did need to be behind bars, Alex. It was a different time. People looked away, made excuses, covered up, and often blamed the victim. I started to write about this five years ago not long after I began blogging, but I couldn't do it. It took me a long time to work through this and other things that I experienced in the North. The only way I could handle it was to tackle my experiences in small bits chronologically. But I've finally dragged this event out of the muskeg and exposed it to the bright, clean light of day; and in doing so, I've exorcized it at long last.
DeleteOn a lighter note, enjoy your long weekend! Thanks for always taking the time to read my posts. It means a great deal to me.
ReplyDeleteOh, my God.
Sometimes I wondered where God was when I thought about what happened, Sandi. It ripped another filter of innocence from my eyes. I understood on a gut level how easily evil could reach even me within the protected circle of my family. But I also learned that good out of nowhere could reach me just as easily in the form of a simple sandwich man who soothed me with compassion and understanding.
DeleteWishing you an enjoyable Memorial weekend, my friend!
Thank goodness you didn't go in the back with him. That man should've been in prison.
ReplyDeleteI know, Diane! I've thought about that many times. That's when I learned the power of intuition and that I should trust that small voice deep inside me. Have a lovely Memorial weekend!
DeleteI'm so sorry this happened to you, Louise. Thank you for the strength it took to share it and to help end silence around this terrible issue.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Debra! It took me five years of blogging to go from when I first tried to write "The Pervert and the Sandwich Man" to when I could. I think that people are beginning to realize how pervasive such behaviors have been in our culture, not to mention around the world. I am hoping that things are changing. Have a great weekend!
DeleteTwo men, so different, and one of them, to keep his jobs and income, had to ignore the events or keep quiet and tackle them in their own secret way, as the Sandwich man must have done many times. I guess he had a lot of nights with no sleep.How brave you were,and to put it into words, even more brave. Yes, prison, where he would get no sympathy or help from any inmate. For serious child abusers, down here, they are put in isolation to keep them safe, how weird is that.Other inmates look on that as the most heinous of crimes, and act accordingly inside the prison. Or so I have read somewhere a while ago. Retribution, I hope the conductor had something dealt to him in huge amounts. XXXX
ReplyDeleteHi, Jean! Thanks for your kind and insightful comment. Prisoners in the US also regard child abusers as the worst offenders, although I don't know if they are put in solitary confinement routinely.
DeleteIt took me several days to write this post, and years to get to where I could. But my heart and mind are lighter for dealing with it. This blogging journey of mine has helped me to deal with a number of painful things in my past. I haven't reached the bottom of the muskeg yet though.
I do hope that the conductor had to face consequences, but he was older, probably in his late 50s or maybe 60 ~ Everyone looks "old" when you are eleven! ~ So he likely retired without getting caught.
I'm glad people are speaking up more, and times feel like they are changing. Ironically, yesterday Harvey Weinstein was arrested after I published my post. Trump said "... It's really too bad." Some good old boys just don't get it. I didn't feel one bit of sympathy for Weinstein, only contempt. Being rich and powerful didn't give him the right to treat women as he did. I hope he is locked up for a long time. There are many, many ordinary people, female and male, of all ages, who have been abused. I hope they all speak up and end this scourge.
I just heard a beautiful meadowlark singing. We have had an extra lovely spring here, and you're into fall. I hope it is beautiful where you are too. All the best to you and Hugh! Sending you love and hugs!
Louise, that is awful. You poor gal. How does time erase such a thing? It's easy for me to say I'd have punched him hard where it counts, but that's with 20-20 vision. You're brave for telling your story. Gosh, I'm so sorry to read this. xx
ReplyDeleteThanks for your kindness, Rain. That momentous year in my life was when I began to realize that it is difficult to predict how you react in an unexpected and difficult situation. I stand behind whatever ways females (or males) react to a sexual assault. It is a traumatic experience, and many people have frozen like me. That's been used too often as a defense for an assaulter, making it "consensual" or less of a crime because a victim didn't fight back or scream ~ and of course there's the old "Well, she (he) asked for it!"
DeleteA couple of Junes later, this boy was harassing a girlfriend of mine and me when we were retuning from school. We came to the spot where our paths diverged, and he started to follow my friend. I doubled back, snuck up behind him, and hit him hard on the top of his head with a binder full of hardcover books. I knocked him out, and my friend and I hightailed it to our homes. I was afraid I might have killed him, but no police showed up, and I never heard anything about it in our small town of Sioux Lookout. I was carrying a lot of anger inside obviously. No one was going to do anything like the conductor had to me or my friends.
I always knew I'd write about my experience, because I have long believed that people must speak up about wrongs and injustices; it took me a long time to work up the courage. It's much easier just to bury the memory, but it's much healthier to get it out and destroy its power.
Have a lovely weekend, Rain!
Thanks for writing about it. I was in that same position as a kid at home and I definitely kept quiet. Of course, that messed up my life so much until I happened to have a burn out in 2003 and went to therapy. All those repressed memories came out and it wasn't easy to handle. We are survivors, and yes, I would have knocked that little dweeb out too. Have a great weekend! It's humid and HOT here (finally!) :)
DeleteI'm so sorry, Rain! To contemplate what you went through is horrible. I'm glad that you got help and are in a better place now! Enjoy the heat and humidity!
DeleteHe's the type of person that needed to be thrown in front of the train and ran over. Hair on my neck stood up when he said he'd take you back to see Gretchen. Creeper big time. Great of the sandwich guy to help, but sucks nothing was done to the pervert. Like having him thrown in a cell with "Tiny"
ReplyDeleteI like your idea of what should have happened to the pervert, Pat. Even now my reaction is to take a duller knife and remove a few parts of someone who abuses children; truthfully, anyone who sexually abuses another. Sometimes I worry that Alexa is recording my rants at the tv, and a policeman will knock on the door and carry me off in handcuffs as a result. I blow up quickly, but I cool down quickly too. I had to learn to control my temper which debuted a few months later.
DeleteHave a great weekend, my friend. Terry told me that it was raining this morning in the Halifax area, but not in the Digby area. I hope sunshine has appeared for your weekend!
Oh, I think they should be castrated indeed. Not sure what you'd do to woman perverts, but men should be fixed. Or taken for a walk in the woods and have an "accident" with a gun.
DeleteWas meh here yesterday, but hot, the sun is here today although writing it will be as I'm out in that 5 days a week anyway haha ugg, nature.
As everyone knows, this stuff is still happening today, not only to little girls but also to women. That @#$& sexual predator Harvey Weinstein (Hollywood movie mongol) was sentenced to jail today for sexual harassment, sexual assault, and rape to many, many women for decades. Yay! More and more women are no longer remaining silent, and it's about time!! But how do precious little girls (and boys) stave off the long-lasting effects of sexual abuse on their mental health? (According to rainn.org, 1 in 9 girls and 1 in 53 boys under the age of 18 experience sexual abuse or assault at the hands of an adult. These children are 4 times more likely to develop symptoms of drug abuse, 4 times more likely to experience PTSD as adults, 3 times more likely to experience a major depressive episode as adults.) Child sexual abusers are often related to the victim and are usually the parent (80% are parents). Go to rainn.org for actions you can take to help protect your child from sexual assault. Louise, I can only imagine the confused and shameful feelings you must have experienced for a young girl from this incident. So glad you had the support of your parents to help pull you through, once you could bring yourself to share with them. Yes, I'm hopeful that things are changing for the better, now that these kind of happenings are being brought to light via the media. Bless you for sharing today.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your understanding, Susan, and thanks for adding the data and link. I stopped all my activities yesterday and watched Harvey Weinstein doing his perp walks, being arraigned, and handing over his check for $1,000,000. I felt nothing for him. It was like he was less than a cockroach. I hope he is sent away for the rest of his life.
DeleteI lived in Garden Grove, California, for a good part of the 1970s. "The casting couch" was well known by everyone I knew. People just accepted it as part of the business. That's pretty sad. But then sexual harassment and abuse in the workplace was everywhere, and it still happens. It's time to put an end to it!
Wishing you a lovely Memorial Weekend, my friend. Sending you big hug! Take care!
Oh, Louise. I'm so upset for you--tears in my eyes. I'm so glad you knew it wasn't okay to go with him. Smart girl. Smart woman. If I could my hands around that man's neck at this very moment, I would do it.
ReplyDeleteLove,
Janie
Thank you for your compassion, Janie. I had tears when I was writing my post. It took me several days, so I had a number of teary events. But once I hit publish a little after midnight Thursday night, I felt real peace and a lot of love and compassion for the young girl that I was. That dirty old man no longer has my power or my voice! All the best to you, my friend. Wishing you a happy and relaxing Memorial Weekend. Sending you hugs!
DeleteOh Louise.....I am so sorry you had to go through this horrid experience. I appreciate the courage it took to share this. It is a privilege to know someone like you.
ReplyDeleteYou are such a special guy, Jim! Thank you! You may recall early on when I began blogging that I tried to get at this and some other things when I wrote about my inner gingerbread man. I couldn't go on with the series of posts, and you convinced me that was okay. Eventually, I'll get most of it out, even if it is just to empower and forgive the young me. I'll be contacting you and Ron very soon, because Terry and I just got our Nova Scotian tickets. I was so bummed when I missed seeing you last summer. I can't wait to make it happen this year! All the best to you! Sending you a big hug!
DeleteThank you for sharing this story Louise. I have spent the passed 58 years with my story and have tried many times to talk about it ~ just try to understand why such miserable things happen to people to children. Jim knows my story and a friend of his does too. This is my 1st time writing about it and thusly the beginning of coming to terms with it.
ReplyDeleteRon
This comment was heartbreaking to read, Ron. We wonder why it is difficult for adults to come to terms with sexual harassment and assault; it's much more difficult for children. I'm so sorry that you have had an early, miserable, traumatic incident. If I could give you a big hug right now, I would ~ like the one my mother gave me.
DeleteUnfortunately too many people say that such events don't define you; but I think they do, in part, because they change you and how you interact with people. I was in my early 30s before I stopped running from people who tried to get close to me, and it's taken me the last five years to confront the patterns in my life, realize what was happening, why, and slowly bit by bit deal with them.
I'm glad you have had Jim throughout your adult life (and him you!). A loving and compassionate partner can soothe and heal a lot of emotional injuries. I hope you can come to terms with what happened to you. It's never too late, and it can bring relief and peace; and perhaps more important, compassion and forgiveness to your younger self.
The longer I live, the more I believe that most people do the best they in can in whatever life throws at them. Sadly, children lack experience and judgement, so they don't always respond the way adults think they should, and they blame themselves for what happened and how they reacted. It can create such pain and self doubt. It is not their fault! Wishing you peace and relief, my special friend! Sending you a great big hug! And one for Ms SD too!
Hi, Louise. I just don’t have words to express how angry I feel about this. It should never have happened but that doesn’t change the fact that it did. You are a very strong woman to be able to write about it even now.
ReplyDeleteHi, Ken! Thank you for your kindness and understanding!It was hard to write, but it was good for me to write it. I'm sorry that I haven't been on Facebook much in quite a few months. I'm trying to get back on top of it. I hope that you are doing well, my friend; and I hope to catch up with you very quickly. Take care!
DeleteGreetings Louise. I'm so sorry for your terrible experience, you are so brave to share it. I too was molested as a child by a gay man - not a nice experience. The sandwich man was a welcoming relief for you, but why didn't he take the matter to the authorities rather than turn a blind eye to what the conductor was doing. I feel for you. Take gentle care. Blessings to you. Love love, Andrew.
ReplyDeleteOh, Andrew! It is heartbreaking that you, too, were molested as a child. I feel for you! It is not just female children who suffer at the hands of adults. Boys, young men, men, too many of them have been victims as well; and people must never forget that.
DeleteSuch things have haunted and harmed both sides of my husband's and my extended families and have had tragic and longterm consequences. The first thing your comment makes me think of is how you have suffered with depression and other challenges throughout your life and how your childhood experience may have impacted your mental health. It makes me very angry. What I'd like to do to the pervert who molested you!
I've never blamed the Sandwich Man for not speaking up, because I recognized that he had much less power than the conductor and his superiors. I'm sure he would have lost his job and even been blacklisted as a troublemaker.
That happened about nine years later to my parents who spoke out about a different kind of injustice, and consequently lost their jobs and were blacklisted (with Roy, Donnie, and me in university). I was so proud of them, but the hardships that fell on my family were painful and difficult. I was grateful for the Sandwich Man's compassion and understanding and the help he gave me.
Blessings back at you, my special friend!
Thank you Louise, for your kind concern. So sorry your parents suffered from speaking out! I can understand the predicament of the Sandwich Man with the risk of losing his employment! It's so sad though. And yes, one or lots of suffering experiences can build up to mental illness, as it was for me. Thank you so much for your understanding, it is greatly appreciated. I haven't been blogging for a few days! My Word Doc will not open! Tut. So sorry again for your suffering. Blessings back to you. I'm glad you are my friend.
DeleteThank you. Love love, Andrew.
Oh Louise, what a terrible, terrible thing to have happen to you! But you were so brave, staying up like that to protect your sister! Now, you were only a child, so it would have been very difficult to process this and to tell anyone, so you must not ever, ever blame yourself for not speaking out at the time! I wonder if I would have had such good sense as you did. I am certain that I would have jumped at the chance to see my dog and not thought one single thing about going with him. Glad you are smarter than I am. Now, as for writing about this as an adult, I applaud you there as well. I see the comments above...brave and strong, I echo that. x
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Kay. Adult predators know how to manipulate children, and pets are a very powerful bait. It took me decades to stop blaming myself for not making a sound. I was in a train car full of adults! I have learned that you can't really predict what you might do in a serious situation. I've surprised myself a number of times, sometimes with bravery and sometimes with cowardice. I feel good about publishing this. It's freeing. These despicable acts have to be exposed, brought out of the dark into open.
DeleteI hope that you, Richard, and Christopher are enjoying a lovely Memorial Weekend! Sending you a big hug!
Oh my friend. I have tears streaming down my face at the injustice of men getting away with taking advantage of innocent girls. It is still happening but I hope that more women are getting the courage to speak up and confront their molesters. You were smart even back then and trusted your instincts. It would have been easy for him to trick you into going back with him and things would have been a lot worse. I can imagine if your mother and dad found out then they would have really raised a ruckus and the man would have been fired. But back in those days it was only a little girl’s word against a man and we know who a jury would have believed. It’s still a man’s world.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kindness and insights, Peggy! It is still a man's world, but things are slowly improving. Fortunately there are far more good and decent men than bad. I am so grateful that I have shared decades of my life with the most wonderful man. I tell Terry over and over that he made my life. You have one of the good guys too, Peggy! My father would probably have ripped that man apart.
DeleteI have a vivid memory of my father as a principal summoning the police and having an older student who exposed himself to some teenaged girls in school taken away in handcuffs. I can still see that handcuffed student being put in a patrol car by the police ~ I was in a second story classroom and had a clear view. I was silently cheering my father! It was a sobering event in my high school, and it delivered a strong message about my father's tolerance for such a thing.
I hope that you and Don and loved ones are enjoying a lovely Memorial Day Weekend. Terry is playing in a pickleball tournament right now. I'm going to have to get lunch, because he will be home shortly, hungry and wanting a nap! Yup, it's a man's world ~ LOL! Sending you a big hug, my friend!
Louise, I am so sorry! So very sorry! You were a brave young girl! This hurts my soul! Thank you for having the courage to tell your story to us! I am so thankful the sandwich man helped you!! Sending you Big Hugs!!!
ReplyDeleteIt hurt my soul too, Stacy, but publishing this post has lifted a shadow that has hung over me for much of my life. I will never forget the kindness of the Sandwich Man! Wishing you an awesome new week! Big hugs back at you!
DeleteSo sorry this happened to you. I too had one episode of abuse as a sixth grader and at a friends house. It does change you. It changed the freedoms that I allowed my children. It changed my trust in others.
ReplyDeleteTeresa
I'm sorry to hear that you were abused too, Teresa. It's distressing to think how common it is. I don't blame you for trying to protect your children; I would have too. Have a good one!
DeleteJust catching up on your blog and... Oh my gosh, Louise! I'm so sorry you went through this. How horrifying. I held my breath as I read thinking about how terrified you were. And isn't it always the case with children...that they blame themselves? What a vile man. I hate to think how many young girls he did this to. Thank you for sharing your story. That takes courage. Sending you hugs xo
ReplyDeleteThanks for your hugs, Martha. It was hard to write about that conductor, but now he has no more hold on me. Writing my story freed me. I wish I had spoken to my parents sooner, because they would have done something, but I was just eleven and I was afraid. I hope times are beginning to change. It's been a long time coming. Have a good one, my friend.
DeleteTrying to get back into blog reading...so far behind. Backtracked to this post from Lac Seul Sojourn. Everyone has already said it all...so sad that these types of things had to happen, sadder still, they are still happening!
ReplyDeletedespite of knowing that such things happen everyday and everywhere this story will be burdening my soul forever dear Louise .
ReplyDeleteyou did not go with him because you had ability to sense it but you could not react because as young girl unaware of such things completely it was so sudden for your poor mind to think about "what to do" i can totally understand your position , while traveling in bus once i felt something behind me ,when i turned and saw the feet fingers of man sitting on behind seat were appearing there ,i was in my middle teen and with my mother ,i without making sound pulled hair pin from my head and poked it in his toe ,the man pulled his feet back immediately . my mom asked me what happened when she saw i was looking back ,i told her and what happened next was another story and quite bad for that man .
the anger my mother infused in my brain kept me alert always and spontaneous in my reactions . from that particular day it would keep a small very sharp scissor in my hand bag during travels and it was until i crossed my mid thirties .
God or nature is ruthless and want us to be aware and alert all the time dear friend because gifting us with brain like thing we can't blame Him ,everything happens to awake us More and for better .
on the same ride you met with a man with totally different Nature ,this is balance of Nature indeed and sign for us to understand how things work.
i believe that every girl should take complete physical training so she can protect herself in such times .
thank you for sharing this with us ,i think we all have stories and wait for time and courage to share it .
hugs and blessings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A terrible experience you went through Louise, but I do understand your concern that he might hurt your dog was your fear. I believe that this man probably came across someone who dealt with him, and brought an end to the horrific things he was doing. God bless.
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