Ellen's Story

Ellen’s

Story

ELLEN SZITA

AuthorHouse™

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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© 2016 Ellen Szita. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/29/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5049-7691-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-7690-9 (e)

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgement

Dedication

God Says Set Them Free

Preface

Chapter 1: Daisies Beside The Train Tracks

Chapter 2: Toffee With Mustard Gas

Chapter 3: But The Living Of Each Year

Chapter 4: Crying In The Rain

Chapter 5: Warm August Night

Chapter 6: Children Of A Green Harvest

Chapter 7: H.m.s. Ivernia

Chapter 8: Dreams And Broken Promises

Chapter 9: Children Of A Stormy Harvest

Chapter 10: Hope Beyond The Mountains

Chapter 11: Laughter In The Face Of The Enemy

Chapter 12: Changing Tides

Chapter 13: Tunnel Of Darkness

Chapter 14: Love On The Rocks

Chapter 15: Banished Children Of Eve

Chapter 16: Bring Me Flowers

Chapter 17: Crumbling Wall

Chapter 18: The Power Of Love

About The Author

List Of All The Awards I Have Received

Hero of the year for, ‘Readers Digest’

Award winner for outstanding personal achievement in literacy; given by, ‘English Speaking Union’

Received a painting from the aboriginals called; ‘Standing Proud’

A story of me in the, ’Windsor Star’.

A story of me in the ‘This Magazine’.

A story of me in ‘Feliciter Magazine’

Appered In ‘Interest Magazine’ three times.

A story of me in ‘Canadian Magazine’

A story of me in ‘Performance Magazine’

Received a ‘Life Time Achievement Award,

An award from the Governor General, ‘Flight For Freedom Award’

Robert Duncan did a documentary on me and he received an award for the film.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I would like to acknowledge;

Joan Van Dyke for the editing of this book

-

The READ Society for their undying devotion and patience in giving me the foundation to a new way of life.

-

Melanie Austin my teacher, friend and mentor

-

Andreas my son-in-law who spent many hours helping me, get this book on the road.

Chris Hinz, my photographer and make up artist.

And to,

My four children,

Kim, Anthony, Robert, Carolann

& my son-in-law Jason

And

My five Grandchildren,

Jenna, Shantelle, Jordon, Anthony and Sheena,

Who, without their undying love and support, this book could not have been possible?

To all of you I say thank you for making my dream come true.

DEDICATION

I dedicate this story to,

My Mother and Father

My brother Billy

My niece Heidi and her

Four children

And Kelly.

GOD SAYS SET THEM FREE

The winds have blown you faraway

but the love in your voices are here to stay.

I hear you speak when the wind comes calling.

I hear you through the winter leaf’s falling.

I see you in the glistening sun, your mast upon the sea.

I miss you all so very much but God says, to set you free.

Ellen Szita

PREFACE

E llen’s Story is a testament of my persistent struggle for literacy, the crippling defeat I suffered in my adult life due to this problem, and the ultimate steps I needed to take toward triumph.

My story begins in England as World War II breaks out. As a victim of the times and of a society unaware of learning disabilities, I fell further and further behind in a system focused on only achievers. At the age of 18, contemplating a dim future as an ill-educated factory worker and bearing thoughts of suicide, I immigrated to Canada. But dreams of a new life of marriage, children and friendships never came to be; struggles with learning disabilities sabotaged every hope. My marriage failed, I sunk into a deep depression, and I tried to raise four children on welfare. Eventually, after intensive therapy, I was diagnosed with dyslexia and only grade 7 reading skills. Through the incredible support from the Victoria READ Society, a special school in B.C., I came to believe I could learn, and learn I did.

However, my triumphs came with more pain. Literacy problems had devastated my life and my relationships, and I felt an incredible fear knowing the lives I’d hurt. But then I learned I was far from alone; there were millions in Canada that were feeling the same shame and hopelessness that I was. What was the true number of people – particularly children – suffering as a result of this issue?

Expressing these concerns and trying to stop this devastating cycle became my passion. I joined civic, provincial and even federal literacy movements. I began speaking at schools, universities, local organizations, prisons and conferences. I published poetry and short stories and wrote articles for newspapers and magazines. I gave workshops for teachers, social workers, doctors, administrators, and government officials, and I lobbied for literacy on Parliament Hill.

A Day in the Life of a Year, Peter Gzowski’s article about my literacy problems and the devastation it caused me, was published in Canadian Living Magazine in 1991 and drew attention to the issue. The following year the award-winning Robert Duncan’s documentary Ellen’s Story was released to international acclaim. This very public exposure forced me to relive my painful childhood at school. But parts were missing because I had not healed enough to tell the whole story at that time. Since then I have found the courage to tell all in my book.

The terrible effects of literacy and numerous problems on human health, wealth and happiness are unseen. The victims face lifelong shame, guilt and failure. I hope my story will open eyes to the real destruction of this hidden epidemic and give courage to those willing to come forward and attend classes. But more importantly, since less than 5% of adults with learning difficulties seek help, I hope my story will give courage and hope to others.

Low literacy is a growing concern in industrialized countries as the demand of the work force and global economy changes. Organizations, agencies and individuals at all levels have begun to seek solutions. I hope that my book will add an important and often unheard voice to the discussions and for the many voices of Adult Learners in communities around the world who live in silent darkness.

CHAPTER 1

DAISIES BESIDE THE TRAIN TRACKS

I remember clearly the day we arrived at our new home; it was shortly after the Second World War, August 8, 1948, my sister Sylvia’s birthday. She was seven, a year younger than me. My parents moved from downtown Brighton into the country. However, we would still be living in Brighton, Sussex. It was strange having my father home. He had been in the navy most of his life but when the war ended he left.

The new house was beautiful, with a garden both back and front. Once inside the house, I ran to the top of stairs and peered out the window that faced the front of the house. I was in awe at being in the country. There were cows in the field directly across from us, and at the bottom of the road was a tunnel. As I watched a train pass over the top the noise from the steam engine, the blowing of the whistle and the puffs of smoke made my skin tingle. For a while, I watched the movers bringing in the furniture. Then I heard my sister Sylvia calling, Ellen, let’s go into the fields.

Big beautiful daisies that came up to our knees bloomed all along the embankment of the train tracks. They were the largest I’d ever seen, and the fields below were full of buttercups and clovers and various other wild flowers. The smell was wonderful, quite different from the ocean air we were used to. Sylvia and I sat making daisy chains. Laughing, she put one on her head. Her hair was a lighter brown than mine. I always thought of her as a porcelain doll, her face pale and shiny. We spent many happy days in these fields, and on occasion, as the train went by, the fireman would blow his whistle and wave. It made me feel special.

My sister Ann was the oldest, then came Billy, who was two years older than me. I was eight at the time. Sylvia was next then Bobby, who was five, and Joan, three. We all had straight dark hair and dark eyes, except Bobby, who was a complete contrast to the rest of us. He had very curly blonde hair with striking blue eyes and a freckled face.

Billy, Sylvia, Bobby and I often went into the woods and climbed my favorite tree. This tree stood out from all the others because it was dead. But its huge trunk and big branches seemed to invite me. Over the next few years, I climbed to the top many times, giving myself a feeling of accomplishment, something I rarely felt. One day Billy took out his penknife and carved a heart into the tree with an arrow through it, putting our initials inside.

Grandma, my mother’s mum, came to live with us at Ashurst Road, shortly after we had moved into our new home. At first I was thrilled because I’d missed her. My fondest memory of her was when we’d be on our way to school. She’d be waiting at the end of Kingswood Flats, which is where we lived during the war, to give us sweets, ‘boo boos’ as she called them. She’d tell us not to let mother know because it meant Grandma used all her sugar rations on us. But the sad truth was Granny was very sick with cancer. I hadn’t been sure my mother loved anyone except my sister Ann, but I was wrong. She loved her mother deeply and nursed her lovingly until she went into the hospital. Grandma died shortly afterwards. She was only sixty-three. Mother stopped singing after Granny died. I missed hearing her lovely voice. Perhaps that’s when I first noticed things were not good at home. Mum said Dad missed the navy and had a very difficult time adjusting to all of us children. There were six of us under the age of ten. He would get angry with us for every little thing. If one item on the mantelpiece was moved just the slightest bit to one side, he’d notice. We had to keep our shoes clean at all times and in a neat row. Anyone who forgot would be pulled out of bed no matter what the hour was. Ann used to say it was because he had to be very tidy aboard ship, so we had to be the same. If we forgot to wash our hands before meals, we’d get our face slapped. And those who didn’t finish everything on their plate upset Dad the most. He would be furious if we left any doors open in the winter, especially the one to the front room. That was the only room where Mum kept a fire going. The rest of the house was left freezing. I suffered with cramps at the back of my legs. But Sylvia suffered even more with chilblains on her toes. They would be red and swollen and it wasn’t unusual to see her limping in the winter.

We did hear stories of how Dad suffered as a child and during the war. We would hear Mum talking to his shipmates that came to visit, and they talked of a time when Dad was on a Russian convoy. It was in the middle of winter, and they were engaged in battle. His hands kept sticking to the gun - even with his gloves on, and he had icicles on his beard and eyebrows. As for his childhood, I knew he starved many times. He was the oldest of five, and he was born out of wedlock. His mother did eventually marry but not Dad’s father. She married a widower with two children. He was a chronic alcoholic and very abusive both physically and sexually. Father, being the oldest, felt responsible for feeding his siblings. So, late at night, he would go through the wealthy neighborhoods and look for food in the garbage cans. Fridges were unheard of in homes at that time, and that meant the wealthy threw out the leftovers at the end of the day. He’d go hunting for wood because they couldn’t afford to put coal on the fire. Of what I heard about my dad and his suffering, I could write book. He talked very little even when he was angry; it was his face that told you to run for cover. If I know anything at all about my dad it was that he loved the navy and hated leaving it. I think the discipline he received in the navy he actually loved. I heard Mum say once that it put his life in order. I didn’t really understand that.

Dad started working in a factory. Mum took charge of the money and spent hours trying to figure it out. I watched her struggle with math as I did. She worried sick about money and kept every penny in her handbag. And even if she went to the lavatory, she would take her purse with her. Much like Dad, Mum had starved as a child too. That must have been a great worry for Mother having to feed all of us. Dad kept a lock on the pantry stopping us from snacking between meals.

Over the next couple of years, I watched Dad progressively get angrier. He took to keeping a cane on the ledge above the living room door. Mum used his bad temper as a weapon to make us behave.

Billy, my brother, had dark, thick hair, full lips and Dad’s strong nose. I always looked up to Billy and never understood why Dad treated him as he did. Billy couldn’t do anything right, according to Dad. From what I saw, Billy suffered the most from Dad’s temper. On one occasion, father was so furious with Billy, he threw the vacuum cleaner at him. Billy was about eleven at the time. Aunt Rose was living with us when this incident took place. She ran to protect Billy from the vacuum, and it hit her instead, breaking her arm. Another time Billy went into Dad’s shed and took two treacle tins that Dad was saving. Someone at school had shown Billy how to make a telephone by putting string through the bottom of the tins. I was never sure how it worked, but Billy was fascinated by the idea and had to try it. He was always trying to make things and generally successful at what ever he attempted. This particular night Dad went to the shed, and even though there were lots of tins, he