Little Comrades by Laurie Lewis

Little Comrades

byLaurie Lewis

Paperback | June 1, 2011

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Little Comrades tells the story of a girl growing up in a dysfunctional left-wing family in the Canadian West during the Depression, then moving, alone with her mother, to New York City during America's fervently anti-Communist postwar years. With wit and honesty, Laurie Lewis describes an unusual childhood and an adventurous adolescence.

About The Author

Laurie Lewis is a Fellow of the Graphic Designers of Canada and is Editor Emeritus of Vista, the publication of the Seniors Association in Kingston, Ontario, and director of Artful Codger Press. Laurie began her career in publishing with Doubleday in New York in 1961. She returned to Canada in 1963 to join University of Toronto Press, ...

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Title:Little ComradesFormat:PaperbackDimensions:216 pages, 8.75 × 5.6 × 0.78 inPublished:June 1, 2011Publisher:Porcupine's QuillLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0889843422

ISBN - 13:9780889843424

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Becoming a SecretarySecrets about politics were always there. From the time I was four years old I knew that my family was different. Knew that I wasn't to talk about things to people I didn't know, people my parents didn't know, kids at school, teachers. People who weren't part of the Party. I grew up with the Party in my head. It meant the Communist Party, the way the Movement meant the Labour Movement, working people and those who were involved with organizing unions and helping working people. My parents were part of that. They taught me not to talk about what I might hear at home or at meetings. Not talking to strangers meant something special in our house, it meant watch out for the RCMP.My father was away for about a couple of years. We kids got in trouble when my mother went out at night to a political meeting, because Andy and I would get into a fight. We always fought, but I never really knew what it was about. Nothing, probably. Boy/girl. Eight/six. Worlds apart. The landlady had to come in to make us be quiet because we were hollering and yelling, and when my mother came home she gave us the very dickens. You should be ashamed of yourselves. What will people think of you? What will they think of me? You know how you are supposed to behave. I'm ashamed of you. It's up to you to be responsible well-behaved kids when I'm out at a meeting. That's the least you can do for the Party.The political work was very important. Andy and I knew that. Our parents were the vanguard of the working class. They worked all the time. Going to meetings, to protests, distributing leaflets, organizing people, trying to raise money. When you're in the Party you dedicate your life to this work -- the work of helping the poor. Of leading them to a better life, leading them to socialism.Secrets about family life, by which I mean about drinking or violence, became connected to political secrets. The truth would reflect badly on my father, so these things, the drinking and the violence, were political secrets, not ever to be mentioned. Not by us, not by my mother.These are words children know: smack, whack, spanking, licking, whip, punch, beat. We understand each word precisely: the difference between a licking and a beating is the implement used and the part of the body affected. A licking is done, is given, with a leather belt usually, although a razor strop can also serve. A licking is on the buttocks and back of a child. If you have to take your shirt off, it's a whipping. A whipping is deliberate. It has to be planned. The implement must be grasped. A beating is done with the fists and is usually performed on the front of the child, often about the head and face; the two people face each other, clearly see each other. A beating comes from temper, from anger. Boys are beaten more often than girls. Andy and I knew all of this.I saw the first time Andy got beaten, the first time my father's open hand closed into a fist, the first time the whack on the face changed to a punch. Andy answered back, that's what caused it. Well, he knew better, so why didn't he keep his mouth shut, like he always told me to? I think my father was surprised too.My brother, later, remembered almost none of this. I was the small observer in this house, the one who saw everything. It was 1938 when my father came home from two years of study in the Soviet Union, sent home because of the war everyone knew was coming. My mother, my brother and I moved to Edmonton and he came there to meet us there. We were staying in a couple of furnished rooms. But my mother hadn't been able to get an apartment yet -- she had no money, of course.First day home, excitement and getting to know our father again. He brought a brooch for my mother -- some kind of smooth Russian mineral, and a book. The book was Tom Jones, the story of a `worker hero' by Henry Fielding, published in the Soviet Union, in English. The memory of what gifts he brought for us, his children, has died of neglect.We gathered in the living room to praise the returning hero. He told us what he learned in the Soviet Union: peevo, beer. Spaseeba, thank you. Nyie gahvaroo paruski, I don't speak Russian. Nyie paheeymayoo paruski, I don't understand Russian.With two years' practice, he said peevo very well. And wodka. That should have been a warning to us.

Table of Contents

Part One: No Place Like Home
A Way With Secrets
Pink
Learning to Lie
Finders Keepers
Losers Weepers
Becoming a Secretary
My Father and Lillian Gish
Jell-o
Going Underground
The Little Comrades
Sneakers
Running Away
Not Really Confessing
Lumpen
Pay Day
The Moral Quandary
Getting Through the War on the Home Front
Milk
A Little Song and Dance
Andy Runs Away to Sea
Sweet Tooth and Sour Grapes
You Belong to My Heart
None But the Lonely Heart

Part Two: Running Away for Good
Waiting for John Garfield
Herald Square
Little Italy / Greenwich Village
East 18th Street
Grand Street at Night
Catherine Street / Knickerbocker Village
Sheridan Square / The Williamsburg Bridge
Central Park West / 72nd Street
East Eleventh Street
Fifth Avenue / 75th Street
Up the Hudson River
Mulberry Street
West 103rd Street
You Can't Go Home Again
East Ninth Street
Grand Central Again
Hunter College and the Toystore
Closer and Closer, and Farther Away
Midtown Manhattan

Editorial Reviews

`Deftly rendered and simply told, with thoughtful recollection and frequent sparks of humour, this personal narrative is grounded in and propelled throughout by a clear and fierce intelligence.'