The Sisters Who Never Separated and Where Did You Get the Pies?

Above all, their relationship was a constant

My mother and her sisters were constants. Throughout their lifetimes, they never separated, creating a deep-rooted bond of trust and understanding in their shared experiences. Unlike how families disperse so easily these days, moving quickly, chasing opportunities not only in the next county but the next country, families were stuck as if they were on flypaper. That was good.

The women and their families lived in the same neighborhood, spoke daily, and shared so much. Our neighborhood played an integral part because it also was a safe, nurturing giant, and a reason never to leave.

Mary, the eldest, was born in Pollutri, Italy, and at seven, she immigrated to America with her parents and brother in 1908. She was an optimistic, energetic mother of six: delightfully eccentric, and, as the only one born in Italy, connected more than the other sisters to her native land.

My mother, the second-born, Anna Philomena, had boundless energy, exercising regularly, working daily, walking miles to her job. She took piano lessons and remembered just enough to make us wonder how much talent was hidden.

Elvira, Vera, was tall, elegant, somewhat self-absorbed, and grandfather’s favorite, so we were told by the other sisters. She comported herself regally and, though others may have chuckled and said she was pretentious, they loved it and encouraged her behavior.

Della, the youngest, was named after my grandfather’s favorite flower, the dahlia. A bathing beauty, she won a contest when she was in high school. She had a marvelous sense of humor that married well with a wit that provoked her to laugh longer than others at her jokes.

L>R Mary, Della, Vera, Anna

For years Anna and Vera worked together: first, at Vesta Underwear and later on the second shift at the US Rubber Plant where they wound golf balls. After work, they went home and chatted by phone until the wee hours. Sometimes they bickered, but they loved each other. “She was my best friend,” Vera said so often after Mom died.

Of course, there are many sister stories.

My mother was into fitness long before the craze. I remember when we were children, she did floor exercises in the living room; deep knee bends, back stretches, leg crossovers, etc. She had this quip oft repeated by her children and grandchildren, “Don’t get a belly,” which warned us to be ever watchful of gaining weight.

One day, Vera asked me, “Do you remember who of us sisters had the flattest belly?”

“My mother never had a belly,” I continued, and Vera smiled.

“You know,” she spoke with familiar pride, “Your Mom and I took Milk of Magnesia before we went to dances.”

I looked at her blankly. “What do you mean? Milk of Magnesia? Why?”

“We just did it once a week for the Saturday night dances. To have flat bellies for the boys.”

“Aunt Vera, you didn’t? Today they might consider that an eating disorder.” “Whaddya mean. We ate.”

Mom and Aunt Vera had purged themselves to be more attractive!

“Don’t get a belly,” Vera repeated.

On the ride home from my visit with Vera that day, I recalled another story, one about Della.

I had invited Della to a country club celebration. Halfway through the evening, I leaned over to chat. She leaned closer, cupping her hand over her earring. “Are you having fun?” I asked.

“Do I have a gun?”

“Never mind,” I replied while the rest of the table convulsed. She didn’t mind that they laughed. My guess. An intentional quip.

And another . . .

After my grandparents died, the sisters gathered less often for Sunday dinner and preferred to meet late in the afternoon for dessert.

One Sunday, Vera brought apple and blueberry pies. She bought the pies at a local bakery. Her baking days, if ever there were any, were long over. When the get-together was over and the sisters retreated to their homes, my mother telephoned Vera. This time it was not to rehash discussed activities.

Rather, Mom had a question. “Vera, where did you get the pies?”

“Holy Ghost Church,” quipped Vera.

“Vee-ruhh (the name Mom used when she was annoyed), “What are you talking about! You did not get pies at the Holy Ghost Church.”

“Ann-nuh (now Vera was annoyed), of course I did. You remember. We all did.”

“We all did what?”

“Got baptized at the Holy Ghost Church.”

“Vee-ruh, I asked you WHERE YOU GOT THE PIES. YOU KNOW. THE ONES YOU BROUGHT TODAY. NOT WHERE YOU GOT BAPTIZED!”

“Ann-nuh, you need to have your hearing checked. You’re speaking awflee loud.”

Mom hung up abruptly, turned to me, and said, “My sister’s nuts!”

I loved those sisters. Anna, Mary, Della, and Vera brought us together, and set examples of important values; love of family and for each other. And the ability to laugh at one another.

Growing up together, sisters have a unique understanding of each other's habits and struggles, creating a bond that few other relationships can match.

Because the sisters never separated, neither did their families. Today our brothers, sisters, and cousins remain together in the spirit of the example they set and the blessing of the joy of being together. They were and are our treasures.