You Made Your Bed

About the Book

It was Christmas, 1964, and just when she had begun to enjoy the holiday and believe that her secret was actually safe, the singers she was vocalizing in preparation for their concert had begun to act strangely.

She tried to tell herself that it was just her imagination or the fact that this was their first performance since having been deserted by their previous music teacher. They had dearly loved him and it had been quite a struggle to replace him but she had finally won them over.

Now she feared that the ensuing enthusiasm, which had caused her to choose an extremely difficult concert to perform, had been a mistake. The music was so challenging that she knew they would never succeed if there were any reason for them to be distracted. If they had discovered her secret, they would most certainly be distracted!

Her mind raced as she pondered the reason for their calm behavior, but she could find none. They should be climbing the walls with adolescent jitters but they just sat there waiting for the time to line up for their entrance onto the stage. Her thoughts darted over to the auditorium where her four-year old daughters were listening to the band with their grandmother. She knew that if her secret had been discovered she would not only lose these students, of whom she had become very fond, but she quite possibly could lose her own precious children, as well.

Her heart pounded wildly as she motioned for the chorus to line up. As they made their way toward the stage, it occurred to her that if the students knew, then their parents and her administration knew, as well.

She had been forced by circumstances to seek the abortion. It was against everything she had been taught as a child growing up in Bernhards Bay, NY in the 1940s and 50s. Her childhood, although marred by her fear of her mother’s wrath, had been idyllic. Her memories of the carefree innocence of rural life, the long summer days spent swimming and boating in the coolness of Oneida Lake, the pranks they played at Halloween time, the smell of fall when the apples ripened as fast as the trees turned brown, (and how much better the stolen ones had tasted compared to the store-bought ones) the red-nosed winter days fishing with tip-ups, the bonfires on the ice at night which had cast shadows so deep they disappeared into the dark, her memories of the time when her classmates at Central Square High had started senior skip day, had not prepared her for the decisions she had been forced to make.

She had been two years divorced, which in Camden, NY had been scandalous in 1964, when she realized that no amount of pounding herself in the abdomen, ramming umbrella handles into her stomach, or soaking in scalding hot water would not bring on the desired results.

She had finally told the baby’s father, with whom she had fallen irretrievably in love, and because he was married, the decision was made, that however horrifying, they would seek an abortion.

Surreptitious, terrifying phone arrangements were made. Anonymous instructions were given. She drove herself to Hotel Syracuse on a cold, rainy evening and with frightful trepidation, made her way through boisterous conventioneers in the lobby to the unfamiliar automatic elevators, as the faceless voices had instructed her to do.

She must not be obvious. She must melt into the crowd. She must do nothing to attract the attention of the hotel employees. She must arrive at the room at exactly seven minutes after ten or the procedure would be abandoned. The only way she had been able to make herself press on had been to keep thinking about her twins and what would happen if she couldn’t go through with it.

Shocks of adrenalin coursed through her body

About the Author

The author grew up in a small town in central New York State. Her dream was to be a music teacher, which she accomplished with two degrees in music. She taught successfully for 22 years, directing choruses, musicals and operas. She also sang professionally and met her husband when he hired her combo to entertain in his upscale waterfront restaurant. She eventually left the teaching profession in favor of assisting her husband with their resort and restaurant business. Having retired from these businesses, they have returned to Joan’s precious Oneida Lake and also enjoy their island in the “The St. Lawrence River”.