Sisters

Sisters at home

“I’ve never seen sisters who are so alike and yet so different.” We heard this many times growing up, even when we were older. It’s true that we looked alike. Occasionally, the three youngest of us were assumed to be triplets. Most often, folks asked our mother if the two youngest were twins. We were – Irish twins, that is. 

One of my favorite photos of the six of us was taken one summer day in the yard at home. We were ages three to nine. (I am number 5). Our faces beam with happiness and fun where we sit in the wide, open yard. We had so much life ahead of us.

Our yard was a wonderful place to play. A former chicken house (turned into a playhouse), a sandbox, and a swing hanging from a maple tree were part of our daily play. On the large green lawn, we played softball, speedball, badmitten, and built “nests” with grass clippings under bushes when we were pretending to be birds. In the winter, the same yard was where we built igloos, made snowmen, and tracked a maze to play Fox-after-the-goose.

Even though at times we squabbled and disagreed on what to play or how to play, we were not short of playmates or ideas. We fleshed out frustrations from school in our play; sometimes we used the playhouse for a hospital, where we put patients into restraints. Other times, we were mothers of many children or managed a bakery.

We never needed to work alone. Whether weeding the garden, hanging out laundry, or cleaning the house, there was always a sister working alongside in another room, with another load of laundry, or a different row of tomatoes. Little wonder, that I find it difficult even now to tackle a project on my own. I miss the ideas, the help, and comradery. It’s a sibling joke that one of my sisters requested a secretary so she had “someone to listen to me!”  It seems when she had something to say or share, other talkers took the stage. 

As kids, we not only had each other, we had older siblings* who helped provide stability and a work force. In some ways, we were pampered. There was always, always, someone in the house to help tackle a project, play a game, or find lost shoes. One was never alone. Nighttime sounds didn’t alarm because someone else was always at home.

I believe our play made us the creative people we are today. Mama allowed us that freedom. We were never void of ideas, whether building our own Pony Express in the woods, riding stick horses, or dressing our cats and puppies in doll clothes to play church on the porch steps.

Yet, we also learned to work before we played. Twice a week, we were called out of bed long before daylight to come downstairs to Mama’s bakery to help shape dinner rolls. Looking across the field at our neighbor’s dairy barn, I was grateful I got to work inside in a temperature-controlled bakery year-round instead of a barn. As we grew older, we also helped shape loaves of bread, roll out cinnamon rolls, and package the finished products.

Mama needed help with her bread route. Twice a week, one or two of us signed up for the task. We figured out a point system. Whoever had the least points was designated helper that day. You accumulated points per day: one point for Tuesday, and two points for Friday, because Friday was the bigger and longer day. Mama usually left us to figure out how to divvy things up. I’m not sure if she wasn’t aware, didn’t have time or energy, or if she thought it was the best way. We divvied and bartered when cleaning our room in much the same way. When settling Mama’s estate, we moved back into our childhood roles of divvying, working things out by sentiment rather than money value so each sister got some of what she wanted most.

In Mama’s last days, we moved into roles, just as we had in childhood. Some took turns in bedside nursing, another made sure coffee was ready; one spoon-fed our mama one small bite at a time. And some preferred to sit back in the room and watch, helping as needed. Each of us did what we did best, and all was well as we waited for Mama to slip beyond the Sunset.

Branching out – yet sisters

In the 1970s, we grew up, graduated from high school and various colleges, and found our own way in life. Four of us married. 

Our days of playing doll with the cats and puppies on the front porch steps were behind us. We gave our mother 21 grandchildren. She is not here to enjoy her (presently) 59 great-grandchildren.

Those little girls who had names for pretend husbands during church play on the porch steps are now great-aunts to each other’s grandchildren.  We enjoyed the similarities of our children and remembered how we used to play. Most of all, we hoped they’d have as much fun growing up as we did!

We doted on and held the new babies, babysat when we could, and backed each other up by not allowing a child to do something we knew his mother did not want him to do.  A niece says all of us had a diplomatic way of getting our nieces and nephews to do what we wanted them to do. Sometimes we bartered with them to sing for older folks in the community.  I’m told that the six of us were a familiar and stabilizing force to our nieces and nephews as they grew up. Whether they visited from another state or from the home community, the aunties were a comforting part of their childhood. 

For years, we lived in four areas: Canada, Maryland, Nebraska, and Virginia. Now four of us call Maryland home. A sister in Nebraska and I share the loneliness of missing out on many things when the others are together. Yet, when we come home, it’s like stepping back in time – we are usually together.

Four of us are nurses. One is a retired teacher and present-day counselor. One is a baker. Two of us are pastors’ wives.  Two of us fostered children; one adopted some of those children. Another sister did her own “foster care” through the Fresh Air Fund for years and is now “grandma” to her Fresh Air children’s children.

Three of us can sing harmony without trying. The rest of us are better followers than leaders in music. We’ve sung at the funerals of our brothers, sometimes with help from our offspring.

When I need something sewn or mended or need help with a recipe, I ask my sisters. When they need something written, they sometimes ask me (a poem for a photo album, an extra verse for a song in a children’s program). Depending on my present project, I ask a different sister for help. If I have a genealogy question, I know which sister not to ask! We know each other’s giftings and help each other as only sisters can.

Similar sisters

All six of us are thrifty and calculating. We try to save trips to town to save on gas. We believe in finding bargains, telling others about them. Thrift stores are a favorite. All of us especially enjoy those out-of-the-way stores with specialties and bargains. We like coffee (the same ‘color’) and pastries (and it shows). We are homemade bread lovers and turn up our noses at store-bought bread. Night owls are we, especially when we are together. We enjoy staying up late to visit when we are all home. The night is always young, and our spouses slip off to bed as we while the night away. 

Wherever we go, if there’s a puzzle on the table, we are certain to find our way there. While we “puzzle” differently, we are all puzzle people. Table games are a favorite, especially when we can play on teams because we know each other so well. With new technology, we’ve also graduated to phone games. When one of us finds a game we like, we make sure others know about the game. Sometimes they get hooked on it, too.

Our kids say we talk alike – especially after we’ve been together. Once after I returned home from Maryland, one of my kids commented, “I sure can tell you’ve been with your sisters. You sound just like them.”

A few years ago, a niece from Nebraska visited us in Virginia with her family. At the end of the meal, I said, “Somebody needs to finish this up – there’s no need for it to go to waste.”  To which my great-niece replied, “That sounds just like my Grandma [my sister].” We got it honestly.

Another niece says that when we’re trying to remember the date  something happened in our large family, we try to figure out if it was before or after Aunt Katharine, our first batch* sister, had rheumatic fever. If we can figure that out, we can probably figure out the year of the event.

We’ve passed on quotes from our mother to our children, and our children hear: Things done by halves are never done right; Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do; waste not; want not; and Du larnsht nimi yinga [you won’t learn it any younger!]

We all have opinions on the best ways to do things. We share those opinions freely, whether we think our sisters want to hear them or not. After all, they should know! When loading a dishwasher, most of us think there’s only one correct way to do it: our way. We learned that from our mama as well.

Growing older as sisters

When we were raising our children, times together were fewer. There wasn’t time or money for long-distance travel, though we all usually managed to travel home at least once a year. Since our mama’s death in 2010, we get together over her birthday, just to be together. In her memory, we share hickory nut cake, our mama’s favorite. I am not the one who bakes the cake!

Our Whatsapp group keeps us connected as we share information, questions, memories, and make decisions together. We still sometimes disagree. Sometimes there is frustration, but always, we are sisters who played together and grew up together – who still belong.

A family member once commented, “When these girls get frustrated or disagree with each other, they get down in the mud and wrestle it out. They come up, all muddy, but still friends. I don’t know how they do that.”

In our later years, all of us have had major surgeries. Five of us received a “cancer” diagnosis.  Among the six of us, we’ve had broken arms, noses, knee and hip replacements, and a heart valve repair. We’ve lost lumps, breasts, parts of a pancreas, stomach and small intestine, gallbladders, and reproductive organs.

Years ago, we ran nimbly across the yard in play. Now we walk more slowly and more carefully. We have less energy and wonder how we did all the things we used to do. All of us struggle with weight, and it shows. We work on weight loss together through our Whatsapp group.

In this childhood photo, we were children with a full life ahead of us. Now there are six decades behind us. Yet we are sisters – still so alike, and yet so different.

Together, we have buried our father, a stepfather, our mother, and eight first batch siblings. Each time we get together, we find healing in sharing our heartaches and our memories. We share a history together – one that no one else can share with us. We are sisters. Once playmates, now comrades, and forever friends. 

More information

photo credits: 1958 photo from FJM family; 2025 photo by Monica Slabach (my DIL), edited by my friend Ron Miller. 

^*first batch siblings were from our father’s first batch of children. After his first wife died in childbirth, our father married our mother; together they had the six of us. Our father affectionately referred to his children as his first and second batch of children.

Growing up, our family used first and second batch frequently to help grandchildren understand our family dynamics. Even though we refer to first batch siblings as “half siblings”, it is merely for distinction and to help those who know our family understand the disparity in ages. I have nieces and nephews who are older than I. 

We have one first batch sibling living. She is our sister and, even though she is not mentioned in this article, she is still our sister. Again, age difference is the reason she was not part of our play group. She was a teenager when I was born.

If you want to read about some of my other siblings, you can click here, here, here, and here.

The six of us compiled a small cookbook with our favorite recipes a few years ago.  It’s called Second Batch Recipes.  You can check it out here.