My Nurse, Mama Jackson, Solves All Problems
The woman who worked with Sam to take care of the farm was known as Mama Jackson. She was tiny in frame, gray straight hair pulled tightly back in a knot at the nape of her neck. Her skin always seemed the same color as her hair to me, gray, but I think now it was milk white. Her dress the same too, a long black cotton dirndl skirt, starched white cotton shirtwaist and high button black shoes.
Any excuse to go to her house was welcome. The tea kettle was always steaming, waiting for “the little bitsa tea and little bitsa talk.” Papa and Mama usually drove us there in the horse drawn buggy. Her house was unusual because she lived on the second floor. I only knew one family houses- hers held four families. I vividly remember the kitchen because that’s where everyone sat, to be warmed, to be petted, and to find a surprise tailored to the individual.
Mama Jackson’s house was different from mine. It was in an area near Van Cortland Park, really the back woods. There were four families in her house, two downstairs and hers and anothers upstairs. My house had only my family in it. What I loved best about the house, was the basket attached to a rope that was dropped down to the yard. A good friend did her shopping daily. She filled the basket and she and I pulled it up to our dining room window. What fun to unload it.
A bed was always ready for me in the front parlor. This was a very special place because every Christmas, I was permitted to decorate the Christmas tree in that room. It seemed the biggest tree in the world to me. My Jewish parents forbid a tree in our house so this was a rare privilege.
During my early years, Mama Jackson held my hand every time I was desperate.
I remember one time when Mama sent me to Mama Jackson’s place. In Miss Wiley’s class 2A, we had daily inspection. To my chagrin, she said “Ruth, you have head lice and rules say you must remain out of school until your hair is clean.” She was very discreet and told me quietly- but I still felt weak in the knees. Do you realize the shame I felt? It felt as if everyone was staring at me and my outlaw head of hair- With the long brown curls that all the girls in the class envied and the boys pulled to attract my attention. The rule says “Home until clean.”
I cried all the way home. When Mama saw me she said “My God, what happened?” I explained between sobs. She knew the solution.
“I’ll wash your face, pack your bag and guess what next?”
“You’ll take me to Mama Jackson. She makes everything better.” Mama Jackson was always the rainbow after my storm. The horse was harnessed to the buggy and off we went. In about a half hour we arrived.
Needless to say, I was drenched in tears when I saw Mama Jackson. She held me, comforted me, and quickly got out the ball and jacks to play with me.
“We won’t think about it now,” said Mama Jackson. “Let’s have a bath and get into your cozy PJs so when Gertie, Jennie, and Layla come home you will surprise them all pretty and clean.”
Mama Jackson, were you analyzed by Sigmund Freud? When Mama bid me goodbye, you went into your routine. “Sit down my child and we’ll have a little bitsa tea and a little bitsa talk.” In no time we sat on my two little chairs at my little table. Your cookies were great. “Red Lips” made with currant jelly centers. Tea was always steeping in the pot on the back of the wood burning stove.
The talk was always your explanation of the treatment. “After dinner, my child, I’m going to warm some kerosene. You have to smell it. It’s a strong smell but pleasant. It’s what I use to light our lamps! Nits and bugs in hair hate it and die if you rub it all over the head. I’m going to do that to your hair. It’s really the same as a shampoo, but instead of soap I’ll use this. After it stays in your hair a half hour I’m really going to wash your hair with perfumed shampoo. Then I’m going to use this fine tooth comb to take the snarls out. I may pull and hurt a little, just the same as when I curl your hair but we must show those bugs who’s boss. You may play with the doll while I prepare supper. Her name is Blondie. Make her hair look pretty.”
Soon enough Mama Jackson’s three girls arrived at the house. I loved my big friends. Gertie, the fat one, came home first. She did the cooking at the restaurant in the Bronx Zoo. To me, going there was ‘The Windows Of The World.’ Gertie’s ice cream was the best. On arriving, I ran to her for a hug. Jennie was the best dressed and perfumed to choke you. Layla was the mean one. Together the three formed a perfect rescue squad.
The dinner was scrumptious. My favorite: roast pork, mashed potatoes, apple sauce and sauerkraut. Shrewdly, you held the surprise dessert for after the solution.
I knew I had to face the music. With great trepidation, I sat under your strong light. In your little silver rimmed five and dime glasses you proceeded to dampen my hair with kerosene and go through it with a fine tooth comb. I hated the smell and the comb scratched and I screamed. Your warm reassuring hug quieted me a short time.
The three sisters used every diversion available. They dressed Blondie in another outfit. They played catch with me to Mama Jackson’s dismay. We played jacks and at last Tic Tac Toe! Finally ablution complete, mission accomplished.
The surprise dessert was presented. “Wow! Gertie, how could you have known I’d be here?”
“A little birdie told me you’d need a special treat.”
Strawberry ice cream from the restaurant at the Bronx Zoo: Home made, with whole strawberries and cream the color of a deep red anemone. Tears were turned off and my smile was as big as their hearts.
Mama Jackson was the perfect Repair Person. I was back in school in two days. My class welcomed me and Mrs. Wiley gave me a big hug. Everything always ended happily when Mama Jackson held my hand- just like in the fairy tales. Mama Jackson remains MOTHER SUPERIOR in my Life Story.
ruthweissremembered 
Here she is again, Mama Jackson, the original surprise maker. Mama Jackson was like a second mother, always there during the tough times. I spoke with cousin Arthur (My grandmother’s nephew, he is her older sister Elsie’s son) and he recalled visiting Mama Jackson when he was a child. The three sisters- Ruth, Elsie and Clara would go over to visit Mama Jackson and eat her out of house and home as they sat sharing stories. Gertie would always be there too and Arthur has fond memories of these visits. I guess the little bitsa talk and the little bitsa tea was a tradition that went on for quite some time.