Brandy

This is the first in a series of reflective/biographical posts

The disco classic drifted from the car speakers reaching me far in the back of the old family car, my mom humming along. It was the early eighties, when seatbelts were still options, and kids still laid in the back of old Impala wagons. It was a time when my parents were still married, when I was still oblivious to the pain of the real world, when songs were just songs. But that song would remain a constant in my life, for reasons I wouldn't understand for decades yet to come.

***

My mom was a nurse. An old school nurse educated by hard, weathered nurses who survived World War 11. She graduated from the Backus Hospital School of nursing in 1967 and went straight into pediatric nursing right there in Norwich Ct. After that she moved back to Massachusetts and started working at St. Vincent's hospital, where she learned further the ethics and compassion she held to the rest of her career. Nursing was a lot different back in the early seventies, she worked long backbreaking hours for little pay. Comforting countless children through trauma and disease, and seeing the effects of neglect and poverty in the still very prejudice world she lived in.

After she married and had us, she would go back to nursing, but in geriatrics, where she would spend the rest of her career. I could fill pages of the lessons I learned by observing my mother, some I sadly only came to value after her passing. But what stands out to me now is nursing wasn't just her job, it was her passion, her calling. It made her the very strong, determined woman she was.

***

I was driving, my mom sitting in the passenger seat, when Brandy started to play from the radio. My mom humming along. The song that permeated the soundtrack of my life a comforting backdrop.

"You know I wanted to name you Brandy. But your father wouldn't have it, he didn't want you named after a drink." I chuckled, that was ironic for my alcoholic father. "The song came out when I was working in Norwich, and around that time I was taking care of a baby, named Brandy." My ears perked up.

"I spent countless hours rocking her, it broke my heart when she died." (I don't remember why or how Brandy passed. I only know that even forty years later her brief life had left a lasting impression on my mom, as well as an ache in her heart. It was story I had heard often, but never minded hearing.)

***

My ipod plugged into the car, my mom sitting next to me waiting for Dale to come out of school. Brandy comes up on my playlist. The song that spanned every decade of my life bringing a smile to my mom's tired face. And I story I hadn't heard before.

"When this song came out I was dating a sailor. He was stationed near me down in Norwich, I think he ended shipping out to Vietnam not long after."

I looked at my mom in disbelief. "I thought you said my father was the only man you had dated?"

I don't remember her response, or if she even gave me one. I know her best friend had married a sailor around that time, and she had roommates that hung around the Groton Naval station, but this was a new revelation to me. I filed it in the back of my mind, as the song changed.

***

Mid summer 2019. I was moving, and going through some of my mom's things I hadn't been able to before. One was a small cedar box she always kept in a drawer. In it were various mementos from her life, including three letter. I picked up the fragile envelopes and debated whether I should read them. It felt like snooping. But I asked her forgiveness and slowly opened them. The two smaller one were thank you cards, the ones you send after a funeral. One dated 1970 and one 1973. They were from the families of two young children who had died, thanking my mom for the care and love she had given them. It talked of a side of my mom I knew, but deeper. A love for service that not too many people truly have. I dropped them before my tears could stain the old paper. My heart swelling with love, and pride. I wondered where these families were now, how had they survived this terrible loss. And I was sad one wasn't from Brandy's family, I still want to know more about her.

The next envelope was a military style one with a return address of Sub-Base - Sub School New London Ct. I slowly took out the letter. It was five pages of a goodbye/dear John type letter from a guy named Vern Wiggens. As I read it I cried. Feeling the loss and emotions my mom must have felt reading it. It was a typical you're a nice girl, you're a sweet girl but I don't want to hurt you letter. Filled with you deserve better than a sailor shipping out, and excuses for not returning what sounded like many letters my mom must have written him after she went back to MA. The tone of the letter made me hate this Vern Wiggens, and made me cry harder for my mom. Brandy now made so much sense. How that song must have haunted her every time she heard it. But she loved hearing it. Maybe it made her think of a time she was young and still thought she could change the world, a feeling we all have early in our twenties.

But mostly I was struck by a new understanding of my mom. Of shared emotions, heartbreaks, and dreams. She was so much like me. In so many ways I am just starting to comprehend. If she was here would I bring up this letter? I don't think I would have the heart to. Maybe this was the guy that broke her. But it was obviously something she felt the need to hold on to. And maybe Brandy was the same. It brought her back to a simpler time, but still a time filled with loss. Two very different letters, painting a portrait of one very strong woman. A women who didn't realize, I think, how very strong she was. A woman who I am just now appreciating in new ways. Who fought the same demons I do, although on different levels. Things make so much more sense, sadly when it's too late.

But it's not too late for me to tell her story.

She hears him say, "Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl) "What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl) "But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea" It is, yes it is He said, "Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl) "What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl) "But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea ...

Brandy by Looking Glass 1973