Susan's First Job

When I was ten years old new people moved into the Johnson house next door. Their names were Marilyn and Butch. I thought they were SO cool. For starters they were a good decade younger than the rest of the parents on our block. Plus they had this darling little three year old daughter named Elizabeth, which was WAY neater than a dog. Everyone had a dog in my neighborhood; there weren't that many toddlers. Butch was an artist and he made me a sign for my bedroom door that had Susie spelled out in animals. And I thought Marilyn was so glamorous. But even better, she was generous with her attention. She spent time sitting on her front porch talking to me, patiently answering my questions and never once treatinig me as if I were a pesky kid, which I no doubt was.

(This is actually my mom & me. Couldn't find a pic of Marilyn in that era)

She also gave me my first job babysitting Elizabeth. Looking back, ten seems awfully young to babysit. But I grew up in a neighborhood where you didn’t have to worry about shouldering responsibility all on your own. Most of the women on our block in that era were housewives. And there was always one available to turn to if you ran into trouble.

Good thing, too. Cuz I definitely ran into trouble with that first babysitting gig.

Elizabeth was used to me; I was always hauling her all over the neighborhood to show her off to my friends. So at first we did well together. I played with her and fed her dinner and played with her some more. And she had a fine time.

But then came bedtime. Elizabeth was accustomed to her mother putting her down for the night and did NOT take kindly to me attempting to do so in Marilyn’s place. She cried. So I picked her up and carried her around, patting her back and doing the “Shh, shh, shh” thing.

She cried some more.

So I tried singing to her.

She cried even harder. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that it was my voice. More likely, though, it was just a toddler being looked after by someone who was basically a little kid herself, and both of us feeling in over our heads. All I know for sure is that she cried and cried as if her heart was broken. And pretty soon, so did I.

I don’t remember now where Marilyn and Butch went for the evening, but I remember that Mom wasn’t home, either, and that I didn’t even want to call in the big dogs in the form of my dad and grandpa. This was a girl issue.

So I called Mrs. Yoder, our neighbor on the other side. I sobbed the whole sorry story into the phone, and bless her heart, she came right over. I think it took her all of two minutes to calm down Elizabeth, who promptly fell into exhausted slumber. Then she mopped up my face, had me blow my nose and settled me on the couch, where I fell asleep as well minutes after she left to go home.

I babysat Elizabeth over the next several years and we never again had that kind of melt-down. When I was sixteen, I got my first job where I had to actually report tax earnings. It was with a neighborhood doctor and I’m happy to report I had no meltdowns there, either.

First jobs can be exciting, fun, harrowing, terrifying. Which was yours? And is there an adult from your childhood whom you remember with particular fondness?