I used to think my sister Rose really enjoyed the taste of soap. Ma seemed to wash Rose's mouth out quite often. Rose, as it turned out, spoke up a little too frequently to adults, particularly the nuns teaching her religion in school. Every dogma we took on faith, she would challenge out loud. A note sent home to Ma meant Rose would be tasting soap for dessert after dinner.
Rose, auburn-haired, tall, and attractive, would never outgrow her outspoken and brash personality, which at times would serve her well, and other times would get her into trouble.
Despite Dad trying to rein her in, she quit school and eloped at 17 with Marco.
Marco, a truck driver, was short but muscular, and he walked as if no one dare get in his way. He expected his wife to cook, clean and be at home while he caroused with both his female and male friends.

When Rose complained, he screamed at her, broke furniture and then slapped her hard.
With that slap, he did not realize what he had unleashed. Rose was a force to be reckoned with.
The next time he went out, she showed up at his favorite watering hole where he was sitting with a woman.
What happened next put Rose on a pedestal with the guys in the neighborhood and made her a legend. The word was passed that you do not mess with Rose.

She pulled the woman away from Marco, and then proceeded to pummel him in front of his friends. She calmly walked out of the door with Marco following her.
As Rose recalled later, Marco called his mother to complain to her that Rose had beaten him up.

The marriage ended in three years. As a final goodbye, Rose tossed all of Marco's clothes from the third-floor porch. Marco came home to find all his clothes, including his underwear, hanging from the trees.
Rose, now with two small kids, moved into the same public housing project where she grew up. To support her and the kids, she went to work as a waitress at Howard Johnson's restaurant. It was a skill she excelled in and was a much sought-after waitress for various restaurants for the next 40 years.

Being a single mom proved to be difficult for her when her son, Joey, went through the terrible twos.
Joey would invade the refrigerator and pour mustard, mayonnaise, and ketchup on the kitchen floor while his tired mom slept. One time, as she lay sleeping, he lined up eggs against her side, and woke her up, and then she rolled over. His favorite past time was to empty the contents of his diaper and smear it across the walls. Sand had been mixed in with the paint, so the walls were not smooth, and it made them difficult to clean.

Ever popular, she partied hard in her youth with her friends while I babysat for her. The partying ended when she had another child.
Despite her difficulties, she did a decent job with her children.

Rose is now in her late 70's and is still a force of nature. At the elderly complex, the residents take their complaints to Rose knowing she will challenge management for them.

A few years ago, after Marco's passing, I went with Rose to visit his then 90-year-old mother. They both reminisced with past stories. One story Rose delighted in telling his mother was how she had beaten Marco up. As she often does in telling her stories, Rose was animated and in imitating Marco's call to his mother, Rose pretended to cry, and said: "Ma, Rose hit me."
She then picked up a picture of Marco's late father and said to his mother. "Nice picture of Carlo. He looked like a gangster."

Sometimes I look for that bar of soap.