Unhappiness

If you wanted a definition of unhappiness you wouldn't need to look further than my sister during our Philadelphia years. Here's a picture of her in her Overbrook uniform:


She wasn't merely unhappy - she was the Northeast distributor of unhappy :-)

I was fortunate enough to be born smart enough to excel but still dumb enough to have a firm grasp on reality. On the other hand, people (like my sister) who have stratospheric IQs seem to truly live in a world of their own creation... Her sense of reality and reason was far different from mine and it was quite upsetting to her that the world around didn't reflect it.
I've already alluded to the fact that I gave up trying to make sense of people at an early age, so I have no critical insights into what my sister's issues were at that point in her life. She was brilliant, gifted and a natural leader, but I think she would have much preferred "pretty and popular". So she spent her time in her room - eating and reading magazines.

And she was stubborn!!! During the early 60's AT&T did a huge advertising blitz for the "princess phone". It was this pink thing that was more stylish than the boxy black phones of the day. And my sister wanted one - in her room. With her own private line. (Apparently she believed a personal phone was the key to happiness - she was way ahead of her time...)

Now you have to understand that the world of the early 60's was much different than today. Talking on a phone for more than a couple of minutes was considered foolish (if not sinful) and a complete waste of time. (As Sgt. Friday used to say: "Just the facts, ma'am."). A lot of people still had party lines (multiple customers per line). And adding a second phone was expensive - the phone company was still a monopoly and the prices reflected it. You couldn't buy a phone - you had to rent it.

My parents (of course) said no - if they let her have a phone in her room she'd never leave it :-) But my sister was convinced that if she threw enough tantrums she could change their minds. So at least once a day for a couple of months my sister would emerge from her room, have a screaming and crying fit about that freaking phone ("You don't love me!!!!") and stomp back to her room. My parents never gave in and she eventually gave up (thank goodness). But when I try and imagine what hell must be like I think about that period of time :-)

My parents were quite frustrated with her. They had given up trying to make her happy (or trying to make her do anything). Nothing worked. She was probably seriously depressed but back in those days people didn't seek out help for depression - standard treatment was electro-convulsive therapy, so it was better to just "get over it" :-) She was pretty bad off. Sometimes when my parents were fighting she'd cover her ears and start yelling "I'm sorry!" over and over - like it was her fault... I remember feeling incredibly sorry for her.

Of course, it didn't stop me from calling her "Moon Face" and "Ski-slope Nose". (I've always had such a way with words...)

Then there was her issues with Dad. Here's a picture of them together in the spring of 1963:


This is the happiest I remember seeing her during that entire time period.

This was not a special occasion - Dad just wanted to go look at some tennis courts after church (and take some pictures) and he brought my sister and I along...
Here's a picture of my sister and I together from the same 'event':


I only had two facial expressions back then - clueless and puzzled. I was apparently going for clueless that day... And don't you just love those white high-top U.S. Keds?? So stylish - they go with everything :-)
BTW - While we were taking those pictures I remember Dad talking enthusiastically about a young African-American player named Arthur Ashe who was being considered for the U.S. Davis Cup team. Ashe had been a high school student in St. Louis a couple of years earlier and Dad had seen him play (and was absolutely amazed). But I digress...

If Keg (that's what my sister called herself at that point) had been willing to play tennis or ski she could have spent as much time with Dad as I did. But that's not what she wanted. She wanted Dad to spend time with her just to be spending time with her... And Dad didn't have a clue - for a man of his intelligence he could be astonishingly dense. (Yeah - I inherited that from him.) So it became a really huge issue for her - one that was never quite resolved...

I suppose I'll close this with a completely unrelated but amusing (to me) story:
When the Beatles came to Philadelphia on their first American tour in 1964 the father of one of Keg's friends pulled some strings and scored the girls "3rd row center" tickets. But shortly before the concert she decided that she didn't like the Beatles any more and sold her ticket. The rationale: The Beatles were just a flash in the pan and the "Dave Clark Five" was the band of the future.
Now I don't mean to dis the DC5 here (they had 17 songs into the Top 40) but I think she blew the call on that one. :-)