NORTHWEST ARKANSAS — There were seven girls in my family. My second oldest sister Helen said I (a middle child) was always quiet and a loner. Lela was the oldest, and when each of us were born, my two older sisters were given the responsibility of caringfor us. I always remember Lela, who was only five years older than me, protecting me. I felt so much love towards her. At one time my baby sister Cynthia seemed like a toy, and I enjoyed playing with her. But, growing up, I wasn’t realclose to my sisters.
Us sisters endured many things together - dysfunction in our family, harshness, hard work, deprivations. Maybe that is why we are so close today. My sisters have become my best friends, and I enjoy any time I can spend with them. So our annual sisters reunions are special. We’ve helped sisters grieve the loss of their husbands, encouraged each other in the raising of our chil-dren and grandchildren, shared health problems and our faith, relived old times, and just been there for each other as we’ve examined our roots.
Each of us have our unique and different talents. Lela made china dolls for each of her sisters and some for nieces; Helen knits, crochets, quilts (knitting each of us sisters a table cloth and numerous doilies); Betty (two years younger than me, the most outgoing and probably our most favorite sister) did arts and crafts, having booths at many fairs for years; Joy exercises and probably has the best work ethic ofus all; Gay attends garage sales to stock her successful booths in flea markets; Cynthia is a school teacher and fluent in Spanish. We are also alike. Many of us are writers, all are wives and mothers (Gay never had children, but is a marvelous step-mom and aunt), homemakers, etc.
Our get-togethers have mostly been in Branson, but also in Independence, Bentonville and Little Flock, where we do everything from shopping to enjoying the sights. Mostly, though, we eat out and play Mexican Train. Helen got tired of hearing us complain that we never won a game and she started keeping a list of winners.
I love my five brothers (two are deceased), but itwas with my sisters that I bonded. No one cares about me like my sisters.
They helped me develop an appreciation of who I am and are an integral part of who I have become. With my sisters I am appreciated for what I am and where I am, with no criticism or resentment.
Growing up in northwest Arkansas, I had no idea I would one day be old - and my sisters would grow old, too - and that we’d be so close to one another.
Marie Putman is a former Gravette resident and regular contributor to the Westside Eagle Observer.
Opinion, Pages 6 on 09/19/2012