Chapter 1: The Origins
I like to think I come from a long line of independent, strong-willed, and forward-thinking women. None of us are pushovers for anything. We can be very forgiving, some of us past the point where we should be, but Kobe help you when we finally reach that point of no return. We're all so much alike that it's almost frightening. My grandmother and my mother are some of the most headstrong women I've ever know, maybe even a little stubborn. My youngest daughter reminds me of my grandmother, sometimes to the point that I wonder if she's a reincarnation. My second-oldest takes after my aunt and my sister, right down to their colorful way of speaking.
This determination shows up often in our relationships, whether maintaining, initiating, ending, or avoiding one. My grandmother saw a man that she was interested in and wasn't going to let anything stop her from making it happen. When my father first met my mom, she wanted nothing to do with him, and spent a long time letting him know. When my aunt and uncle met, my aunt was unofficially engaged to someone else. Upon realizing that Uncle Charles was better suited for her, made her happier, she immediately ended things with the other man and started things up with Uncle Charles, not giving a damn was people would say or think.
My parents, Elysia Alvarez and Nordin Larcombe the Second, met in a bar. Mom and Aunt Carmella were there together, and my dad approached my mom with Aunt Carm went to the restroom. He told her he'd been noticing her all night, and had been waiting for her "friend" to leave her alone. Mom was instantly turned off by his arrogance, and told him so, and informed him that when Aunt Carm returned, they would be leaving. When she got back, they did, in fact, leave.
Several weeks later, at a different club, Mom and Aunt Carm ordered drinks and were informed by the bartender that someone had already paid for them. He pointed out the benefactor, and Mom says she only rolled her eyes when she saw it was the man she'd met weeks earlier.
This determination shows up often in our relationships, whether maintaining, initiating, ending, or avoiding one. My grandmother saw a man that she was interested in and wasn't going to let anything stop her from making it happen. When my father first met my mom, she wanted nothing to do with him, and spent a long time letting him know. When my aunt and uncle met, my aunt was unofficially engaged to someone else. Upon realizing that Uncle Charles was better suited for her, made her happier, she immediately ended things with the other man and started things up with Uncle Charles, not giving a damn was people would say or think.
My parents, Elysia Alvarez and Nordin Larcombe the Second, met in a bar. Mom and Aunt Carmella were there together, and my dad approached my mom with Aunt Carm went to the restroom. He told her he'd been noticing her all night, and had been waiting for her "friend" to leave her alone. Mom was instantly turned off by his arrogance, and told him so, and informed him that when Aunt Carm returned, they would be leaving. When she got back, they did, in fact, leave.
Several weeks later, at a different club, Mom and Aunt Carm ordered drinks and were informed by the bartender that someone had already paid for them. He pointed out the benefactor, and Mom says she only rolled her eyes when she saw it was the man she'd met weeks earlier.
This dance continued for months, my dad asking Mom out, and Mom just kept turning him down, refusing to be just another conquest to him. He insisted that wasn't the case, and that if it was, he would have given up long before that. She finally acquiesced, allowing him to take her to dinner.
After that dinner, she told him in no uncertain terms never to contact her again.
He didn't listen.
My dad maintained for years that it was Mom's charm, and the fact that she never buckled to him that drove him to his spontaneous proposal on their seventh date. According to both of them, she took a look at the ring, looked at him, closed the box and handed it back, and said, "Fine." So romantic, no? The two were engaged for nearly three years before getting married, and my brother, Nordin the Third, came along within the first year. Four years later Valentina and I joined the brood.
After that dinner, she told him in no uncertain terms never to contact her again.
He didn't listen.
My dad maintained for years that it was Mom's charm, and the fact that she never buckled to him that drove him to his spontaneous proposal on their seventh date. According to both of them, she took a look at the ring, looked at him, closed the box and handed it back, and said, "Fine." So romantic, no? The two were engaged for nearly three years before getting married, and my brother, Nordin the Third, came along within the first year. Four years later Valentina and I joined the brood.
Before that... There was Claire Allen, my grandmother, who grew up in Los Angeles. She wasn't like most women her age. She wasn't all docile and domesticated and everything women were expected to be, especially black women. She rebelled again all of those societal norms, and even though she was raised in a strict Catholic home, had very progressive beliefs and opinions. She's the one who gave Val and I - and even some of our friends - the Talk. You know what talk I mean. And she was completely straightforward and honest and just really down to earth about everything. Because of that, I never felt ashamed or embarrassed to ask or tell her anything. She was my inspiration for the relationship I tried to have with my kids, especially the girls.
Keeping true to who she was, a woman not held back by societal gender norms, she thought nothing of approaching the music teaching assistant, Roberto Alvarez, and asking him on a date. Even the fact that he was Latino didn't stop her, which was very avant-garde for the time. The very idea of a woman asking a man on a date in the first place just blew people's minds, and Grandma often said that her mother was mortified that she did it.
Keeping true to who she was, a woman not held back by societal gender norms, she thought nothing of approaching the music teaching assistant, Roberto Alvarez, and asking him on a date. Even the fact that he was Latino didn't stop her, which was very avant-garde for the time. The very idea of a woman asking a man on a date in the first place just blew people's minds, and Grandma often said that her mother was mortified that she did it.
But if you knew Grandma, and if you knew anything about Abuelo Roberto, you'd see there was no way those two could stay away from each other. It was just not an option. They were like two magnetic forces that just pulled together all the time. They were the couple that I looked up to, whose love for one another really inspired me to seek that in my own life. Not even joking, I swear that they could not only finish each other's sentences from other rooms, but they were actually connected telepathically.
I remember one Christmas when we were very small, Val and I were running around the house, and we ran past Grandma in the kitchen telling her sister a story. As we got to the other side of the house, there was Abuelo talking to a friend, and he snapped his fingers, "Oh, I just remembered..." and began telling the same story. It was as if Abuelo could read Grandma's mind, and knew she was telling the story, so it popped into his mind too. Scenarios like that were something that happened a lot. I'm telling you, they were connected. The admiration I had for them - still do, even now - cannot be measured.
I remember one Christmas when we were very small, Val and I were running around the house, and we ran past Grandma in the kitchen telling her sister a story. As we got to the other side of the house, there was Abuelo talking to a friend, and he snapped his fingers, "Oh, I just remembered..." and began telling the same story. It was as if Abuelo could read Grandma's mind, and knew she was telling the story, so it popped into his mind too. Scenarios like that were something that happened a lot. I'm telling you, they were connected. The admiration I had for them - still do, even now - cannot be measured.
If there's any lesson to be learned here, it's that when women in my family stick to their guns, there's a reason. My mother could have avoided years of heartbreak if she'd never gotten involved with my father, and my grandparents would have never known that level of happiness if my grandmother had never approached him.
Valentina and I came into the world on Day 7 of Year 20. She's older by one minute and twenty-three seconds, but Mom says that we tried to come out at the same time. Val swears I tried to cut her off so I could be born first.
Our entire childhood was like that. I'd do something, she'd insist that she was about to do it first or had just done it herself. About everything. My first kiss - the peck on the lips kind - came when I was twelve. When I told her, she told me she'd done that the month before. If I did some chore around the house, especially if it was one she was supposed to do and our parents noticed, she'd coming running in, 'I was literally just walking to the kitchen to do the dishes, Jessi got there before me and just did them.'
It's really no surprise that we got as competitive as we did when we got older. But again, that's another story.
In kindergarten, I met Taryn McLoughlin. This girl... Grandma Claire called her a spitfire. She was the first person to call me Sénia. We were seated next to each other, and one day she called me Jessica. I said, no, it's Jes-senia, not Jes-sica. From that day, whenever she said my name, it was Jes-Sénia, and eventually just Sénia. She pretty much become a triplet to me and Val.
Valentina and I came into the world on Day 7 of Year 20. She's older by one minute and twenty-three seconds, but Mom says that we tried to come out at the same time. Val swears I tried to cut her off so I could be born first.
Our entire childhood was like that. I'd do something, she'd insist that she was about to do it first or had just done it herself. About everything. My first kiss - the peck on the lips kind - came when I was twelve. When I told her, she told me she'd done that the month before. If I did some chore around the house, especially if it was one she was supposed to do and our parents noticed, she'd coming running in, 'I was literally just walking to the kitchen to do the dishes, Jessi got there before me and just did them.'
It's really no surprise that we got as competitive as we did when we got older. But again, that's another story.
In kindergarten, I met Taryn McLoughlin. This girl... Grandma Claire called her a spitfire. She was the first person to call me Sénia. We were seated next to each other, and one day she called me Jessica. I said, no, it's Jes-senia, not Jes-sica. From that day, whenever she said my name, it was Jes-Sénia, and eventually just Sénia. She pretty much become a triplet to me and Val.
We were always surrounded by music. Abuelo Roberto had a voice like an angel, and he was always singing when he came over, or when we went there. Mom too. Sang her ass off. Abuelo taught Nordin how to play guitar as soon as he had basic finger coordination. He tried to each Val and me too, but I didn't want to do the same thing as Nordin, so he compromised and helped me learn bass.
Val wanted nothing to do with it. She'd be the tambourine girl if she was forced to do something. Taryn started taking lessons from Abuelo after I showed her everything I learned, and we would have these little jam sessions in my living room - me, Taryn, Nordin, Abuelo, and our cousin Tatum Feldman would come over too.
I'd have to say that this is where it all started. This is where those tiny little seeds got planted. Even though the official idea wouldn't come until high school, this is where Taryn and I started thinking about playing in a band. To say that now, I realize that means Taryn and I have literally been playing together for nearly fifty years. That's a lifetime!
When Val and I were about fifteen, and Tatum fourteen, I experienced/witnessed my first fight. A chick fight, if you will. It was between Tat and some girl around the way, and then Val jumped in when it looked like the girl was going for a piece of glass, but I learned something about myself that day. I. Am not. A fighter.
Don't get me wrong, if you really cross a line with me I'll throw a punch (just ask the nurse that filed a lawsuit against me in Year 60), but I don't mess around with those street brawls. After that day, neither did Tat, really. That's when she started carrying around her bat. My cousin and her bat are a whole other story altogether, but if you knew her at all, you know that piece of wood wasn't far behind. 'A Girl and her Louisville: A Love Story.'
Another thing to understand about the three of us is that we were all so very different when it came to fighting. Tatum would fight anyone. Male, female, older, younger, She didn't discriminate. Val was one of those hair-pulling, face-scratching, hand-flailing, girly fighters. I, of course, just stayed out of it all. Tat's reputation preceded her so strongly that people in her neighborhood referred to all three of us as 'those Feldman girls,' then Val and I would get back down to Midtown and be Larcombe again.
Growing up as the pacifist, I was constantly seen as this mother hen type, and I suppose I lived up to it. If the other two ever got hurt in a fight, I'd be the one running over to Duane Reade for bandages or whatever, fixing them up so that Mom or Aunt Ruth wouldn't notice. Sometimes, when one of them hurt someone else badly, I'd help them too. Tat broke someone's fingers once; I made him a splint. I was seventeen when I first gave someone stitches. Luckily it only happened four times in my life, but three of those four times happened that summer.
I will say this much: in hindsight, all those years prepared me for parenthood. Seriously. Other mothers at the park would freak out at the sight of their child's blood, but I would just calmly find the source and decide if they needed medical attention or not. But I'm getting ahead of myself again...
Entering high school, Val and I started to truly become separate people. Prior to that, yes we had our own unique styles and personalities and everything, but we were still always together. We were The Larcombe Girls, The Larcombe Twins, The Larcombe Lookalikes, V&J. Our big brother punched more than one of his friends in the face for making comments about how being with one of us was a “guaranteed threesome” because we’d probably do everything together forever. I’d like to point out that we were thirteen, fourteen when comments like this were made, by Nordin’s seventeen, eighteen, nineteen year old friends. Is that really all guys think about?
Comments like that, however, only made it that much more important to us that we establish separate identities. Even though we still spent tons of time together, we led very different lives in school. I joined the choir and played soccer and volleyball. Val joined a bunch of different clubs that didn’t actually do anything, as well as the drama and photography clubs. The only time we overlapped were some of the performances, where I sang in the choir and she and her fellow drama club members acted on stage. There was a noticeable shift by senior year, where our twinship wasn’t as obvious anymore. No mistaking us as sisters, but any new students or teachers who hadn’t known us all along, didn’t realize that we were twins. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but I think it shaped a lot of things that came after.
They call adolescence and your teens your formative years. I completely agree. That was where I truly cultivated my nurturing side, found my true love of music and of playing in a group, started to find my own way, and learned my capacity for anger. The building blocks for who I would become were starting to come together.
Val wanted nothing to do with it. She'd be the tambourine girl if she was forced to do something. Taryn started taking lessons from Abuelo after I showed her everything I learned, and we would have these little jam sessions in my living room - me, Taryn, Nordin, Abuelo, and our cousin Tatum Feldman would come over too.
I'd have to say that this is where it all started. This is where those tiny little seeds got planted. Even though the official idea wouldn't come until high school, this is where Taryn and I started thinking about playing in a band. To say that now, I realize that means Taryn and I have literally been playing together for nearly fifty years. That's a lifetime!
When Val and I were about fifteen, and Tatum fourteen, I experienced/witnessed my first fight. A chick fight, if you will. It was between Tat and some girl around the way, and then Val jumped in when it looked like the girl was going for a piece of glass, but I learned something about myself that day. I. Am not. A fighter.
Don't get me wrong, if you really cross a line with me I'll throw a punch (just ask the nurse that filed a lawsuit against me in Year 60), but I don't mess around with those street brawls. After that day, neither did Tat, really. That's when she started carrying around her bat. My cousin and her bat are a whole other story altogether, but if you knew her at all, you know that piece of wood wasn't far behind. 'A Girl and her Louisville: A Love Story.'
Another thing to understand about the three of us is that we were all so very different when it came to fighting. Tatum would fight anyone. Male, female, older, younger, She didn't discriminate. Val was one of those hair-pulling, face-scratching, hand-flailing, girly fighters. I, of course, just stayed out of it all. Tat's reputation preceded her so strongly that people in her neighborhood referred to all three of us as 'those Feldman girls,' then Val and I would get back down to Midtown and be Larcombe again.
Growing up as the pacifist, I was constantly seen as this mother hen type, and I suppose I lived up to it. If the other two ever got hurt in a fight, I'd be the one running over to Duane Reade for bandages or whatever, fixing them up so that Mom or Aunt Ruth wouldn't notice. Sometimes, when one of them hurt someone else badly, I'd help them too. Tat broke someone's fingers once; I made him a splint. I was seventeen when I first gave someone stitches. Luckily it only happened four times in my life, but three of those four times happened that summer.
I will say this much: in hindsight, all those years prepared me for parenthood. Seriously. Other mothers at the park would freak out at the sight of their child's blood, but I would just calmly find the source and decide if they needed medical attention or not. But I'm getting ahead of myself again...
Entering high school, Val and I started to truly become separate people. Prior to that, yes we had our own unique styles and personalities and everything, but we were still always together. We were The Larcombe Girls, The Larcombe Twins, The Larcombe Lookalikes, V&J. Our big brother punched more than one of his friends in the face for making comments about how being with one of us was a “guaranteed threesome” because we’d probably do everything together forever. I’d like to point out that we were thirteen, fourteen when comments like this were made, by Nordin’s seventeen, eighteen, nineteen year old friends. Is that really all guys think about?
Comments like that, however, only made it that much more important to us that we establish separate identities. Even though we still spent tons of time together, we led very different lives in school. I joined the choir and played soccer and volleyball. Val joined a bunch of different clubs that didn’t actually do anything, as well as the drama and photography clubs. The only time we overlapped were some of the performances, where I sang in the choir and she and her fellow drama club members acted on stage. There was a noticeable shift by senior year, where our twinship wasn’t as obvious anymore. No mistaking us as sisters, but any new students or teachers who hadn’t known us all along, didn’t realize that we were twins. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but I think it shaped a lot of things that came after.
They call adolescence and your teens your formative years. I completely agree. That was where I truly cultivated my nurturing side, found my true love of music and of playing in a group, started to find my own way, and learned my capacity for anger. The building blocks for who I would become were starting to come together.