The 7th Daughter and a Near Miss (Another Mom Story)

If you have followed this blog in the past, then you know that I have talked about my mom before and about her interesting life. Mom was the 7th daughter of a 7th daughter and she was told all her growing up years that because of this, she was "special." The largely known and I guess believed, legend behind this old belief is that the 7th daughter of the 7th daughter has second sight and yes, my mother definitely had second sight. So much so that she hated it and got to the point where she would never talk about it. Her mother too seemed to know things that most would not, but that is a story for another day.

Maybe it was because of this whole 7th daughter thing, but my mother attracted the craziest people and incidents all through her life. As a kid, I loved nothing more than to listen to my mom talk about her always interesting and sometimes terrifying life. It included everything from her dating the son of a mafioso, to a mysteriously red painted bathroom, to her being terrified by a shadow man of her own.

 Now, much of this might be chalked up to a vivid imagination, except my mother wasn't really like that. She was very much black and white and she wasn't one for the fantastical. Also, in my lifetime, I also had a front-row seat for some of the craziness that was her life, as it spilled over into my life and the lives of others that knew nothing about my mother's earlier experiences, so yeah, I pretty much think that there may be some truth to the whole 7th daughter thing.

There are many of my mom's stories that I could tell, and eventually will tell, because....they ought to be told. Today though, I am going to tell about one of the truly scary stories that I was actually a part of, but was much too little to remember. Listening to a story on the "Let's Not Meet," podcast, reminded me of this story, so I thought I would share it here. 

My mom was always a very pretty lady, but when she was young, she was stunning. She was a very small woman at 5'4" and she weighed maybe 100 lbs. She had long hair that she wore up and she had high cheekbones. Truly she was lovely. So when she was in her late 20's, she was a single mom (not exactly the norm for that era) living in a small apartment in Denver, CO. She worked as a 3rd shift RN, so she could be home during the day with me. At the time, I wasn't even a year old. 

One day, Mom was working around the apartment, cleaning and trying to keep up with me. The apartment we lived in was small and only had one door. It was in the front with a screen door and a solid door. In the solid door was the mail slot. It was apparently the way most received their mail back in the early 1960s, so when people knew the mailman would be coming around, they would unlock their screens so he had access to the mail slot. 

It was about mid-morning and as Mom finished up dishes, she heard a knock at her door and thinking nothing of it, went to answer it. As she did, standing in front of her, was a man in his mid 30's. He immediately and quickly, told her that he was selling magazine subscriptions and wanted to know if she was interested in buying some. Mom took one look at him, he was wearing a hat and a suit that had definitely seen better days. It appeared to be threadbare in places and somewhat wrinkled. The man carried no clipboard, no briefcase, and nothing whatsoever that would indicate he was selling anything. Mom was instantly suspicious and told him "No thank you," and she started to pull the screen door shut when he suddenly yanked it wide open. She then stepped back and tried to shut the wooden door, but the man was quick and he tried to shove his leg between the door and the jam before she could get it closed. Again, Mom was a small woman and not really a match for a full-grown man. 

Mom immediately started to panic thinking about me, just feet away and this strange man, trying to force his way into our house. She could feel herself starting to lose traction against the door as he started to push against the door with his full weight. All she could think of was if she could only get the door shut then she could put the deadbolt on, but getting that door closed was looking less and less likely. Even her mother bear adrenaline was starting to be no match for this man who obviously had an agenda my mom was not wanting to find out about. 

Just as the man's strength seemed to be overcoming my mom's, from around the corner came the mailman. He was a black man who was a good 5 inches taller and about 30 pounds heavier than the man trying to get into the apartment. The mailman stopped to assess what might be going on between this man and my now frightened to her core, mom. The mailman then walked directly up and stepped right next to the man. "Is everything alright?" he asked, looking straight at my mom and seeing the tears of relief forming in her eyes. He knew full well, that nothing was currently alright. 

"No!" mom managed to force out. "This man is trying to get into my apartment." 

The man immediately stepped back and straightened his wrinkled suit and stuttered, that he was only trying to sell her some magazines. 

"Oh," the mailman said, reaching into his parcel and pulling out three magazines, "Well you are at the wrong place sir," he continued, "I am the regular mailman for this complex and I can tell you that this nice lady gets plenty of magazines already." As he said this, he handed my mom her mail and the magazines that he had pulled from his parcel. She had never ordered these magazines but she silently held them in her hand. 

The man looked flustered, and for a second he appeared to size up the mailman. Realizing that he likely would not stand a chance against him, he mumbled something more about just selling magazines and took off, quickly walking across the street. 

Mom began to cry with relief and thanked the mailman profusely, handing him back the magazines that obviously belonged to others on his route. He took the magazines and said, "Now ma'am, I'm going to stand right here while you pull this screen door shut and lock it. Then I want you to shut that big door and lock it too. Then I want you to check all your other windows and make sure they are shut tight and locked," and finally, realizing maybe even more so than my mother, the potentially fatal mistake she had made by opening the door to this man in the first place, he said, "and ma'am, do not open your door to anyone you don't know. Next time someone might not be here to step in." 

Mom knew he was right and thanked him again and again as she did as he instructed and locked her screen. Just as promised, the mailman did not budge until he heard the deadbolt click and then the chain lock slid in place. He then took a look around and satisfied that the man had seen it in his best interest to move on, the mailman continued his deliveries.

After Mom finished checking all the windows, she began to regain her bearings a bit. She checked on me, still laying on the floor, playing with a toy, innocently oblivious to the near-miss that had just taken place. She then walked back to the front door and the window on the other side of it, just to double or maybe triple check that it was all locked up tight. As she pulled back the curtain, her breath caught in her throat and the panic began to creep up in her again. Looking diagonally across the street on the corner, leaning up against, of all things.....a public mailbox, stood the man who had tried to get into her house. He apparently had waited until the mailman had finished his rounds in the area before he came out of hiding to once again make his presence known to my mom. 

As he saw Mom peer out the window, he tipped his hat to her as he nonchalantly sucked on the butt of a half-smoked cigarette. Now this was a different time and a different day, as today, had someone been in her shoes, they would have immediately called the police. Then though, police were only called in emergencies, and as scary as the earlier incident had been, he was no longer menacing her. Now he was merely watching her, or what she assumed was her, and she knew there was no law against that. Moreover, she was not going to be viewed as a reactionary woman with an overactive imagination by the police. No, she would save that call until she thought they could actually do something. This was not the time. 

So for the next few hours, Mom stood close to the window and watched the man as he never moved from his leisurely stance against the mailbox, while he chain-smoked himself through a pack of cigarettes. At some point, my congenial disposition changed into that of a tired baby that needed fed, changed, and put down for a nap. As Mom, jumped to her motherly duties, about half an hour passed, and by the time she returned to look out the window, the man was gone. She wasn't sure if this relieved her or frightened her even more. Rather than panic though, she reminded herself that the doors and windows were locked, and at least for now, we were safe. 

The rest of the afternoon passed as fairly normal. Mom finished the work that she had left unattended when the man showed up, and only occasionally did she peek out to see if the man had returned. He did not. 

As evening approached, Mom fed me, and then she made herself a sandwich and sat down to watch the evening news. As the picture cleared and the news began, the top story was of a stewardess, that had been found dead in her apartment that afternoon. The apartment was just two blocks over from where we lived, and luckily, the police had been able to apprehend the killer, as a neighbor had heard the girl scream and the killer came running out as the neighbor ran over to check on the girl. They showed the man in handcuffs being taken to the patrol car by police. Mom let out a scream that startled me to the point of causing baby tears. There, on the tv was the man that had tried to sell Mom magazines that morning. The girl had been found with her clothes halfway off and strangled. Blessedly, her screams had stopped him from doing what Mom knew in her heart that he had intended to do to her. Now Mom called the police. 

After hearing Mom's story, the police figured that Mom had been his original target, but after the mailman stopped him, and once he realized that Mom had locked the house up tight and had no plans of leaving the apartment, the guy must have decided that she was no longer an easy target and decided to move on to someone else. 

The poor stewardess had just come in from a flight and had just gotten home when she was attacked. Did this guy offer to sell her magazines too? Did he manage to force his way into her apartment because no kind mailman came to her aid? Mom didn't know and neither did the police, all they knew was on that day, Mom and I were the lucky ones, and the poor stewardess, not so much. The poor stewardess never saw it coming.  

To this day I wonder about that mailman and I wonder if he realized that he had saved not one but two lives that day. Without him, I have no doubt that things would have turned out very differently for both Mom and me. So was this all about my mom being a 7th daughter of a 7th daughter, or was this just one of those scary near misses in life, that happens to all of us, and stays with you for the rest of your life? I wouldn't even venture a guess. 

So until we meet again......stay healthy, stay happy, and always be careful who you open the door to.