Families logo

The Original Bahama Mama!!

Maybe It Does Take a Village to Raise a Child!

By Maurice BernierPublished 7 years ago 7 min read
Like
Photo by Nathaniel Tetteh on Unsplash

I have a huge confession to make: I was NOT an easy child to deal with when I was much younger. I was a walking nightmare. There. I finally got that out of the way. Whew!!!

Now, before you ask how rough I was, allow me to give you a few examples. On the day I was born, I slapped the doctor who slapped me as soon as I was born. I felt totally justified. After all, he started it. Then, I reached over and pinched his rather voluptuous nurse. June was busting out all over. Needless to say, Nurse June was not so happy with this baby boy.

Like most people, I had two grandmothers. I have no recollection of my maternal grandmother since she died before I was two years of age. I only knew my paternal grandmother until I was about 22 when I last saw her until I heard about her death at some point in the 1990s. Both of them were born in the Caribbean Islands. From what I was told by my Mom, her Mom loved me to bits, but, I was too young to know.

We moved to Queens in 1958. Dad drove a tractor-trailer for the U.S. Post Office while Mom worked as a nurse in a nearby hospital. They were happily married, young, and had a walking headache. It was a son named Maurice. (What a coincidence. That's my name, too!) They needed someone to watch their tiny terror until they got home.

We had elderly next-door neighbors by the name of William and Alise Bradley. They were truly an interesting and lovable couple. Both were retired and, considering their very advanced ages, physically remarkable, too. He kept himself busy around the house by not only fixing things but making homemade devices in order to fix things. For example, if he had to fix an outside window and could not reach it, he built his own ladder from scratch and used it to climb in order to fix the damaged window. He was the original MacGyver. He got use out of everything. He was not a cheap man. He just believed that everything could be used until it could be used no more. She took care of cleaning and general housework.

The Bradleys were the first family to welcome us to our new neighborhood. All four adults took a liking to each other. I was instructed, after much thought, to refer to them as Mom and Daddy Bradley. She would be like a Mom to my Mom and he would be like a Dad to my Dad even though my paternal grandfather was still alive. In other words, the Bradleys served as surrogate grandparents to me. How cool was that?

There was another member of my new family. The Bradleys had a pet. The best way I could describe him was part Collie, part Labrador, and part Irish setter. Yes, he was a dog. In fact, he was a HUGE dog. To this three-year-old, he was the equivalent of the horse the Lone Ranger rode on. He was that huge to me in my young eyes. His name was Shep which obviously meant that he was also part German Shepard. He was a nice dog. In fact, Shep was too nice. He was one of the most obedient dogs I have ever seen even to this day. TV's Lassie was able to listen to human instructions and carry out directions to the dog's best ability. Not Shep. Shep was the college professor of dogs. He could not only follow directions, but he was also able to interpret seven different languages, formulate algorithms and tell time. Yes, Shep was an extremely smart dog.

Mom and Daddy Bradley had only ONE rule and for some reason, I was unable to follow it at times: BEHAVE! While my parents went to work, the Bradleys would look after me until my parents got home. I just had to test the parameters.

One day, Mom Bradley told me to sit in a chair. I said something very stupid. I asked, "Why?"

POW!

Mom Bradley was nice enough to give her left hand a brief workout on the side of my skull.

"Gotcha! Right here," I said.

POW!

"Gotcha! Over here?" I had to ask for clarification.

The fact that another hand sandwich did not come my way was a good indication that I understood her message.

I remember telling my dad that Mom Bradley had spanked me. His answer? "Why are you telling me? Do you want me to spank you, too? Learn how to behave." There was that word BEHAVE again.

Yes, she was a tough old lady who took no nonsense. I really could not argue so much. That is not to say that I did not try, but it was a rarity. One day, I did kind of push the envelope a bit too far. I forgot what the issue was, but my tiny brain at age 6 decided that it was time for me to run away from home and maybe live my life as a cowboy... on the streets of New York City. So, while Mom Bradley was busy yelling at me, I turned and dashed out the door. I ran past my house and headed north to the street where the buses actively operate taking passengers to and from work. Yes, that is where I wanted to be—on a bus that carries big people. I ran and ran and ran until I got to the corner. I was very close to getting my freedom... at last!

Before I could cross the street, I lost my footing. In fact, I tried to run again, but I was still in the same spot.

Why am I not moving?

Then, the scenery immediately changed. Where I was looking at a busy street, I was now looking back at the area where I came from. Perhaps I was finally flying. I stuck my hands and feet out as to mimic George Reeves from the old Superman TV series. I was flying... I think. However, instead of flying where I wanted to fly, I was now at Mom Bradley's house as the front door opened.

Why can't I fly away? I don't want to be here.

Mom Bradley was standing right there with the belt in her hand as I re-entered the house that I tried to escape. She then said, "Shep, put him down."

It turns out that as I got three-quarters down the block, she told the universe's smartest dog to bring me back home. It seems that once I got to the corner, Shep caught up to me, grabbed me by the back of my belt and gingerly carried me back home with me hanging from his powerful teeth. I never knew that he was behind me. So embarrassing. I promised myself to not try that again.

I spent a few years with her until I grew a bit older and my family expanded. I now had a brother and a sister. It was now my responsibility to stay in the Bernier house and watch them although Daddy Bradley would check up on us from time to time.

My last memory of the Bradley house was some time in January of 1969. Mom stayed at the Bradley house for a few hours to help. I did not know why because Daddy Bradley was always there to help her. I went on to take care of my matters around the house, mainly my schoolwork. A few hours later, Mom returned. After looking at her face, I could see that something had taken place. Mom was not so eager to speak. She and Dad stepped into the kitchen. When she emerged, I could see that she had been crying. "I hope that everything is okay," I said to myself.

Mom wiped away some more of her tears as she said to me, "Mom Bradley had just died."

Mom was called next door to use her nursing skills to help her. Apparently, Mom Bradley's body had given up. She expired somewhere around mid-January. I was crushed. She did not look sick. She was old. That I was able to accept, but she did not look sick.

The next week, we had to go to Manhattan in order to attend her funeral. I walked up to her casket when we were called to view her body. I almost could not recognize here without her shades on, but I knew it was her. I recognized her "smile." I looked at her face again. Yes, she was gone. Even to this day, when I look at pictures of the comedienne Jackie "Moms" Mabley, I just can't help but think of Mom Bradley.

Mom Bradley was a very positive influence in my life. She, along with a few other neighbors, chipped in to help my parents. It wasn't that my parents weren't capable parents. They were. It is just that our neighbors were all too happy to help and I was the grateful recipient of their kindness. I can think of many times when I would visit a neighbor to just sit and talk. My interest like theirs was quite varied. It all depended on the situation.

And it is to all the Mom Bradleys and Daddy Bradleys that I say the following to them:

Thank you for your love and being there for me.

extended family
Like

About the Creator

Maurice Bernier

I am a diehard New Yorker! I was born in, raised in and love my NYC. My blood bleeds orange & blue for my New York Mets. I hope that you like my work. I am cranking them out as fast as I can. Please enjoy & share with your friends.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.