I am so sick and tired of parents who don't do their job. I'm talking fucking parenting here!
Yes, I'm just as guilty.
My children are all grown and (near by)gone. But when they were home, it was always easier to just give in instead of arguing or just taking the time to parent.
I live in Denver Colorado. The thing that sent me over the edge and put me into a rage is this. We have snow and freezing temperatures much of the winter. When I'm out shopping I constantly see teens, and all the way to their parents ages dressed in flip flops, shorts and tees! It's fucking freezing!
If the parents don't have good judgement, they shouldn't be having children. Of course the lack of good judgement is probably why they do have children.
It's not just that. I'm constantly hearing "I don't want to be mean"! "So I let my daughter dress like a SLUT and I let my son play video games eight hours a day. Plus, since I'm a lazy parent, I'm going to reward them with cell phones, personal computers, games, clothing they will probably wear once and rarely sit down with them at the dinner table with a meal I've actually cooked myself"!
When our family was all living at home, my kids constantly had friends over. I made my family a home cooked meal and we were usually sitting down together to eat. I always invited any extras to stay for dinner. These were all good kids. But I don't remember one time a kid not saying "we never do this at our house"! Most of them ate things like mac and cheese dinners, frozen pizza, hot pockets and take out.
They loved to have breakfast, lunch and dinner with us. They loved that we used "real" napkins. They loved it that the kids asked to be excused, and then put their dishes in the dishwasher.
My daughters friends would ask me questions they wouldn't ask their own mothers. I knew one mother in particular who didn't tell her own daughter about her period when it started. She left it up to the older sister.
We've been "empty Nester's" since 2002, so it hasn't been that long.
Very few of us are doing our duty as parents. Kids want to be part of a close loving family. They not only need, but want boundaries. Our "first" job is to raise healthy, happy, well adjusted young adults.
You don't have to be mean. Going overboard with punishment would be mean. I'll use my sister as a good example. When her six year old son starts acting up or doesn't want to eat his dinner, she simply reminds him that there's something he's been planing to do, like a play date with a friend or playing a video game for an hour on the weekend and he usually complies immediately. He knows she "means" what she says.
We are all slackers when it comes to doing this job. Just open your eyes people. It's not too late to do the right thing!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Question To A Christian Nation
If you are a christian, then you know the answer to this question.
The bible says that God created Adam in his (God's) own image. Whether that be true or not, he did give Adam the equipment to re-produce.
According to the bible, Adam was there for awhile, eating, gardening, taking care of God's critters and getting lonely.
Plus, being a man, he was spilling his own seed "all over this land" "from"(IF I had a hammer)! And nothing was growing from the seed's...
Why did God create Adam with the ability to re-produce, and nothing to re-produce with?
FYI I don't believe in evolution either. Theory and fantasy are closely related!
The bible says that God created Adam in his (God's) own image. Whether that be true or not, he did give Adam the equipment to re-produce.
According to the bible, Adam was there for awhile, eating, gardening, taking care of God's critters and getting lonely.
Plus, being a man, he was spilling his own seed "all over this land" "from"(IF I had a hammer)! And nothing was growing from the seed's...
Why did God create Adam with the ability to re-produce, and nothing to re-produce with?
FYI I don't believe in evolution either. Theory and fantasy are closely related!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
What To Make For Dinner : Reservations!
I was just watching some guy on The Martha Stewart show, (the blogging episode). And I got really pissed off at this "guy". He's the one blogging his way through one of Martha's cookbooks. The one about "how to cook". Julie And Julia "copycat"!
I heard him say something that infuriated me to no end. "When I cook for friends that don't like certain foods, I have to be careful about what I make"!
First of all, if someone invites you to their home for a meal, all they need to know is if you have any food allergies or are a vegetarian!
Don't tell me you don't like broccoli, turnips, anchovies or whatever the fuck you "don't like"!
If you tell me you don't like garlic, the meal I make will be full of it and you won't fucking notice! Believe me, I've tested this theory and it's never failed.
And don't play that "I'm a vegetarian, but I eat fish" crap! You're not a vegetarian!!!
I LOVE to cook!
There is ONE thing I've tried and hated, and that's Chitlins. OMG they suck! Perhaps, if you made them iddy biddy bit size, dipped them in a buttermilk batter, deep fried them to a nice golden brown, then wrapped each one with a $100 dollar bill and served them with a bucket of MUMMS, I could possibly get down a dozen or so.
So if there's something on your plate that you're not particularly fond of, be gracious and eat around it.
Didn't your parents teach you any fucking manners?
Bon Appetit
I heard him say something that infuriated me to no end. "When I cook for friends that don't like certain foods, I have to be careful about what I make"!
First of all, if someone invites you to their home for a meal, all they need to know is if you have any food allergies or are a vegetarian!
Don't tell me you don't like broccoli, turnips, anchovies or whatever the fuck you "don't like"!
If you tell me you don't like garlic, the meal I make will be full of it and you won't fucking notice! Believe me, I've tested this theory and it's never failed.
And don't play that "I'm a vegetarian, but I eat fish" crap! You're not a vegetarian!!!
I LOVE to cook!
There is ONE thing I've tried and hated, and that's Chitlins. OMG they suck! Perhaps, if you made them iddy biddy bit size, dipped them in a buttermilk batter, deep fried them to a nice golden brown, then wrapped each one with a $100 dollar bill and served them with a bucket of MUMMS, I could possibly get down a dozen or so.
So if there's something on your plate that you're not particularly fond of, be gracious and eat around it.
Didn't your parents teach you any fucking manners?
Bon Appetit
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Hello Vagina, It's Me, Elaine
One of my only regrets in life is that I never used my vagina for EVIL.
I know lots of women out there are making BANK from that EVIL VAGINA. Look at all those Tiger Woods Ladies (whores with evil vagina's) out there. Living the life...
Yes, I still have my Vagina. And if I had enough ambition (and Jack would let me) I could probably score a 1968 single wide and a lifetimes worth of PBR!
One can only dream...
I know lots of women out there are making BANK from that EVIL VAGINA. Look at all those Tiger Woods Ladies (whores with evil vagina's) out there. Living the life...
Yes, I still have my Vagina. And if I had enough ambition (and Jack would let me) I could probably score a 1968 single wide and a lifetimes worth of PBR!
One can only dream...
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Can You Say: Catapedaphobia?
I was watching this thingy on PBS that, instead of paying $35 for, someone pulled right out of the air! For free!
It's about what makes us happy and unhappy.
I'm not sure what this has to do with Catapedaphobia except for the fact that I have always had it and didn't know what it was called until I heard Katie Couric saying she has it!
WOW! I have two things in common with Katie Couric. We both have vagina's and Catapedaphobia.
Definition: Not of vagina you dope!
Catapedaphobia: Fear of jumping from heights. I'm not afraid of falling. I feel a strong urge to jump! And look up the correct pronunciation of height. You may find out that you have been mis-pronouncing it all your (wanted to say "fucking" there, but decided against it) life.
Do you have a fobia? Tell me all about it...
It's about what makes us happy and unhappy.
I'm not sure what this has to do with Catapedaphobia except for the fact that I have always had it and didn't know what it was called until I heard Katie Couric saying she has it!
WOW! I have two things in common with Katie Couric. We both have vagina's and Catapedaphobia.
Definition: Not of vagina you dope!
Catapedaphobia: Fear of jumping from heights. I'm not afraid of falling. I feel a strong urge to jump! And look up the correct pronunciation of height. You may find out that you have been mis-pronouncing it all your (wanted to say "fucking" there, but decided against it) life.
Do you have a fobia? Tell me all about it...
My Parents
By now, if any of my younger siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles are still reading this they probably wonder where all this is coming from.
Marion and J B Wilson were the nicest people they ever knew.
They were good people. They were just not good parents with their first set of children. I know they made a lot of changes after the three younger children were born. It's probably a common thing. And I respect them for seeing their mistakes and trying hard to do better. I also respect my dad coming to me when I lived in Memphis and apologizing for not being better parents to Steve and I. That meant a lot to me.
When I visited my family as an adult, I saw a huge difference in the home. The kids were actually laughing and playing.
I'm happy for my sister and brothers who had the "good" parents that were loving and supportive.
I don't think I was ever envious, because at the time they were still the people who raised me. I still saw them as someone else.
I don't believe my brother Steve ever got over it. I'm just guessing here. I gravitated toward abusive relationships. Steve self medicated with alcohol and drugs.
Steve and I were always real softies. We would cry at the drop of a hat. I still do. In fact, I'm crying my eyes out rite now!
But Steve had a pain inside that no amount of self medication could fix.
The only reason my parents bought the equipment to set up the music studio was for Kelly. You can deny it, but Steve knew it was true.
Ruth Anne, Stephanie, Samantha and Jai were the women in his life. I also know that I was somewhere on that list. We all would have saved him if we could.
I know we all think: If I just did this, of If I had just done that, he would still be alive.
If you are one of "the believers" who would say that God took Steve when he did for a reason, I would say: Your God is a cruel God!
Steve's spirit is alive and happy in those of us who love him.
He's a wounded child and I hold him close at all times...
Marion and J B Wilson were the nicest people they ever knew.
They were good people. They were just not good parents with their first set of children. I know they made a lot of changes after the three younger children were born. It's probably a common thing. And I respect them for seeing their mistakes and trying hard to do better. I also respect my dad coming to me when I lived in Memphis and apologizing for not being better parents to Steve and I. That meant a lot to me.
When I visited my family as an adult, I saw a huge difference in the home. The kids were actually laughing and playing.
I'm happy for my sister and brothers who had the "good" parents that were loving and supportive.
I don't think I was ever envious, because at the time they were still the people who raised me. I still saw them as someone else.
I don't believe my brother Steve ever got over it. I'm just guessing here. I gravitated toward abusive relationships. Steve self medicated with alcohol and drugs.
Steve and I were always real softies. We would cry at the drop of a hat. I still do. In fact, I'm crying my eyes out rite now!
But Steve had a pain inside that no amount of self medication could fix.
The only reason my parents bought the equipment to set up the music studio was for Kelly. You can deny it, but Steve knew it was true.
Ruth Anne, Stephanie, Samantha and Jai were the women in his life. I also know that I was somewhere on that list. We all would have saved him if we could.
I know we all think: If I just did this, of If I had just done that, he would still be alive.
If you are one of "the believers" who would say that God took Steve when he did for a reason, I would say: Your God is a cruel God!
Steve's spirit is alive and happy in those of us who love him.
He's a wounded child and I hold him close at all times...
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Do I Have A Bad Attitude?
Don't know why I feel the need to throw in an apology here.
I've been raped (more than once) physically and verbally abused many times.
I have been scarred for life yet I refuse to let that that destroy me.
:) E
I've been raped (more than once) physically and verbally abused many times.
I have been scarred for life yet I refuse to let that that destroy me.
:) E
Husband # 3 or "O" Is For AsshOle
Shortly after moving back in with my friend for the second time, I met Mark O'Leary. I had gone to a party with my brother Steve and his girlfriend Ruth Anne.
The party was at the apartment of a couple, Barbara and Robyn Reynolds. Robyn had a music partner, Mark O'Leary. They had a "manager" in Memphis named Sy Rosenburg. They called the musical act: what else? O'Leary and Reynolds. Sy was telling them they were on the heels of a BIG deal!
As soon as "Sy" heard my brothers playing and singing he was all over them and signed a "management" contract as: what else? The Wilson Brothers. Back to me!
I started dating Mark who had just moved out of the house he shared with a bunch of college guys and was now living out of his Cougar (meant "CAR" back then) and was in the process of moving in with his manager and his wife Georgia.
One day while Mark was at Sy's house, X husband #2 (the attorney) showed up at my door and said he needed to talk to me about some legal matters. He asked me to sit in his big (Cadillac) so we could speak in private. He also said he had all my jewelry in the car and wanted to give it back. I said OK. Remember, If you look at my forehead you'll see a big tattoo that's only invisible to me. It says: GULLIBLE
Dennis drove me two hundred miles to Little Rock. Since he was unable to talk me into coming back to him, he dropped me off on the street!
I had no money or ID with me. I called the Rosenburgs collect and Marc drove from Memphis to Little Rock to fetch me!
Shortly after that we moved in together.
The four hopeful musicians combined forces and started playing clubs in the area. We were having a lot of fun. Smoking a LOT of pot and SHROOMING. What's not to like?
About six months after moving in together Mark and I drove to Norfolk VA to meet the "parents".
I think Jerry and MiMi liked me. They certainly acted like it. Taking us to the Ballet, The Officers Club for dinner among other nice places. MiMi had fun dressing me up in one of her evening gowns and jewelry for the Ballet. I was a fashion disaster back then. Big "Wild" permed hair and was a cross between Janis Joplin and Twiggy!
I became pregnant while in Virginia. I was never good at remembering birth control pills, and to be honest I was missing my son Randy, so I think I probably wasn't thinking tooo seriously about much at that time.
Two months later when I realized I was pregnant, I was thrilled. I thought Mark and I were really in love. This was certainly the my first love.
Mark wasn't thrilled at all. He bugged and begged me to get an abortion and I refused.
Of course me being me, thought everything would somehow work out and soon I would be living in a little house with Randy and a new little baby.
The new little baby part did work out. Mark and I got married that December in a blizzard in my uncles church in Arkansas, then back to Memphis for the reception.
I just remembered something really funny. Mark's sister Joyce flew from Colorado for the wedding and his very prim and proper mother MiMi from Norfolk VA. I remember sitting on my living room floor with the two of them smoking pot! Ruth (MiMi) rather enjoyed it. Joyce however becomes a crazed lunatic when she gets high. The funny kind of lunatic!
Just before our son Marc Patrick was born we moved into a very cute house near the Overton Park and Memphis Zoo.
I had asked Mark several times to let Randy come live with us. He always said he would never raise another mans child. Well, it was MY child you FUCKER!
I had all the warning signs there in front of me and was in complete and total denial.
On June 22, 1978 after what seemed like days of my body literally being torn apart, here was our beautiful 9lb 3oz baby boy.
Even though he had wanted me to have an abortion (probably because he didn't love me), Mark beamed from ear to ear for weeks. He was so proud of his son. He went around all the time and told everyone what a HOSS his son was.
He was a very good father. Not the best husband. Only because he never told me he loved me, never gave me a card, never gave me a gift.
But in spite of my longing to know I was loved, we were happy. Marc made us very happy.
Mark was a social worker and I lied about my education and got a job as a bank teller. After being tutored by the Attorney for two years I knew how to fool the best when I needed to. When people asked me where I went to school and what my degree was in, I had that down pat! Arkansas State, class of 69,Philosophy!
Mark and I bought a house near The University of Memphis and decided to have another baby.
Michael Ian was born September 14th. I was getting ready to go walk the golf course while Mark played when I went into labor. I can remember how happy I was like it was this morning. All four of my babies were perfect in every way! :)
All was going according to plan except I still didn't feel loved and couldn't figure out how to convince Mark to let me have Randy.
Plus my brothers had gotten a record deal, moved to Nashville, and made an Album (Another Night)by The Wilson Brothers. They even toured Japan for Two weeks before coming back and getting dropped by their record company.
Mark was still writing lots of music and wanted to go to Nashville and get another deal because that was his real passion.
We had visited his sister Joyce and her family in Vail Colorado before moving to Nashville and decided to spend two years in Nashville pursuing the music business and then move the family to Vail. We had fallen in love with it while visiting there.
It was Marks idea to split the bills since we were both working and he needed to have money to play golf and it was nice that I didn't have to ask him for money. Anything I had extra went on my boys! :)
One of my good friends who had worked at the bank with me, had left to become a waitress at a popular restaurant called The Circle Cafe. She said she was making a lot of money there. This was 1980 and my salary at the bank was $1000. a month and I was paying for full time child care. Leaving my children in child care tore me up every day. I wanted to stay home with them so much it hurt. It was always a battle between mark and I over me wanting to be home with the kids.
I didn't tell tight wad Mark that I would make more money. I convinced him that I would be able to work and be home with the boys during the day, therefor having no child care to pay. He said sure!
I would leave for the restaurant at 5PM when Mark got home from his job. I would work till close, five nights a week. Since I worked weekends to make more money, I only had two weekday mornings I had to get up early with the boys. I usually got off between one and two AM.
I was averaging $100. a night. Twice what I was making at the bank. Got to raise my own kids plus had $200. a week that the cheap skate didn't know about. The boys and I went to lunch and shopping with my mom twice a week!
And the job was FUN! I could write a book just about my adventures at The Circle Cafe!
We made our move to Nashville in the early spring of 1982. I hated leaving my job and friends but this was our plan. I soon found another restaurant job. Not hard to find.
Mark and I were starting to be very unhappy with each other. I constantly complained that he didn't love me and he never denied it. We started talking about divorce and then I found out that I was pregnant once again. We immediately agreed we should stay together and try and make it work.
One of my MAJOR problems I had with Mark, besides not feeling loved and appreciated.
He constantly let me know that I wasn't pretty. He talked about the beautiful women he had dated before he knew me. He did say that if we had a girl this time, he hoped she had straight white teeth like me! There were so many things wrong with my appearance like my nose was too big and I didn't have high cheek bones like he did. Plus no one in my family had ever graduated from college. We were all dumb asses!
I can't remember all the vile crap he tortured me with but I believed every word.
On March 3rd 1984 my little red headed Megan was born. Marc Patrick was born with red hair but turned to a strawberry blond before he started school. Michael was a blond from the get go. But it was obvious that that this red hair was here to stay. She also had a skin tone that wasn't the usual light color on most red heads. She came out with a tan!
We moved to Vail in May of 1985. Mark started working for a guy "Dan" who owned all of the vending machine and arcade games in (I think) the whole Vail Valley. I worked at a restaurant for awhile until I found a job in another bank because it was the "off" season for the resort and restaurants were not busy enough to make much money. So here I was with one child in school and two in day care. After paying childcare every week I had $25 left. I couldn't see the point in this but Mark said $25 is money to buy food. What an IDIOT!
Michael had fallen at the day care in the fall and was in the hospital for several days. We had a Plastic Surgeon repair his face and it turned out well. Then at Christmas I injured my back cutting down a tree and the bank "let me go" because I was taking too much time off. I got a job at Pizza Hut! Woopee!!!
I was so miserable I started loosing weight like crazy, which was fine because I was eating from depression earlier. I told Mark I wanted a divorce. He said he didn't care if I left but I couldn't take the kids. I asked him to go to marriage counseling and he refused. So I told him I was going to get an attorney and move out as soon as I saved enough money. He said his boss "Dan" was mostly paying him in cash anyway and Dan also agreed to show Mark's income as much less than it was just so I wouldn't get any financial support.
Another important part of this story is that after Megan was born, I was diagnosed with a large Fibroid Tumor growing in my uterus. I didn't have time for the surgery before we moved to Vail because it required four weeks recovery.
I didn't have the time or money to have the surgery done then. I did realize that every time my periods came they got much heavier and I started acting like a crazed bitch on wheels. My IDIOT Dr told me that the Fibroid had nothing to do with my mood swings. I had never had any noticeable PMS in my whole life till now. And now I was being "possessed" ten days out of every month.
It was right after one those periods that I met a guy when I went out to a bar after work with one of my girlfriends. Even though I was preparing to move within weeks, I didn't tell the guy my name or anything about me. We only danced.
Two weeks later the guy who had run into one of the friends I had been out with that night, told him where I worked and he showed up there. I told him what was going on in my life but he kept pursuing me. Two weeks before I moved out, we started an affair. I didn't tell Mark because he had already said he didn't care what I did!
I moved out in the spring or 1986.
In a month or so Mark decided he wanted to try marriage counseling. We went one time and while we were there that I absolutely, positively did not love him anymore. It took a long time to get up the guts to leave him, and I was done! He had made me feel as low about myself as a human being can.
With all the threats about taking the kids away from me, let alone the nine years of personal attacks on me and my family. Enough
It took years before my children started coming back to live with me. Thats a painful story. More painful for the kids.
I have one more tale to tell before I get to that.
Coming up next: Webster Atwell The Second
The party was at the apartment of a couple, Barbara and Robyn Reynolds. Robyn had a music partner, Mark O'Leary. They had a "manager" in Memphis named Sy Rosenburg. They called the musical act: what else? O'Leary and Reynolds. Sy was telling them they were on the heels of a BIG deal!
As soon as "Sy" heard my brothers playing and singing he was all over them and signed a "management" contract as: what else? The Wilson Brothers. Back to me!
I started dating Mark who had just moved out of the house he shared with a bunch of college guys and was now living out of his Cougar (meant "CAR" back then) and was in the process of moving in with his manager and his wife Georgia.
One day while Mark was at Sy's house, X husband #2 (the attorney) showed up at my door and said he needed to talk to me about some legal matters. He asked me to sit in his big (Cadillac) so we could speak in private. He also said he had all my jewelry in the car and wanted to give it back. I said OK. Remember, If you look at my forehead you'll see a big tattoo that's only invisible to me. It says: GULLIBLE
Dennis drove me two hundred miles to Little Rock. Since he was unable to talk me into coming back to him, he dropped me off on the street!
I had no money or ID with me. I called the Rosenburgs collect and Marc drove from Memphis to Little Rock to fetch me!
Shortly after that we moved in together.
The four hopeful musicians combined forces and started playing clubs in the area. We were having a lot of fun. Smoking a LOT of pot and SHROOMING. What's not to like?
About six months after moving in together Mark and I drove to Norfolk VA to meet the "parents".
I think Jerry and MiMi liked me. They certainly acted like it. Taking us to the Ballet, The Officers Club for dinner among other nice places. MiMi had fun dressing me up in one of her evening gowns and jewelry for the Ballet. I was a fashion disaster back then. Big "Wild" permed hair and was a cross between Janis Joplin and Twiggy!
I became pregnant while in Virginia. I was never good at remembering birth control pills, and to be honest I was missing my son Randy, so I think I probably wasn't thinking tooo seriously about much at that time.
Two months later when I realized I was pregnant, I was thrilled. I thought Mark and I were really in love. This was certainly the my first love.
Mark wasn't thrilled at all. He bugged and begged me to get an abortion and I refused.
Of course me being me, thought everything would somehow work out and soon I would be living in a little house with Randy and a new little baby.
The new little baby part did work out. Mark and I got married that December in a blizzard in my uncles church in Arkansas, then back to Memphis for the reception.
I just remembered something really funny. Mark's sister Joyce flew from Colorado for the wedding and his very prim and proper mother MiMi from Norfolk VA. I remember sitting on my living room floor with the two of them smoking pot! Ruth (MiMi) rather enjoyed it. Joyce however becomes a crazed lunatic when she gets high. The funny kind of lunatic!
Just before our son Marc Patrick was born we moved into a very cute house near the Overton Park and Memphis Zoo.
I had asked Mark several times to let Randy come live with us. He always said he would never raise another mans child. Well, it was MY child you FUCKER!
I had all the warning signs there in front of me and was in complete and total denial.
On June 22, 1978 after what seemed like days of my body literally being torn apart, here was our beautiful 9lb 3oz baby boy.
Even though he had wanted me to have an abortion (probably because he didn't love me), Mark beamed from ear to ear for weeks. He was so proud of his son. He went around all the time and told everyone what a HOSS his son was.
He was a very good father. Not the best husband. Only because he never told me he loved me, never gave me a card, never gave me a gift.
But in spite of my longing to know I was loved, we were happy. Marc made us very happy.
Mark was a social worker and I lied about my education and got a job as a bank teller. After being tutored by the Attorney for two years I knew how to fool the best when I needed to. When people asked me where I went to school and what my degree was in, I had that down pat! Arkansas State, class of 69,Philosophy!
Mark and I bought a house near The University of Memphis and decided to have another baby.
Michael Ian was born September 14th. I was getting ready to go walk the golf course while Mark played when I went into labor. I can remember how happy I was like it was this morning. All four of my babies were perfect in every way! :)
All was going according to plan except I still didn't feel loved and couldn't figure out how to convince Mark to let me have Randy.
Plus my brothers had gotten a record deal, moved to Nashville, and made an Album (Another Night)by The Wilson Brothers. They even toured Japan for Two weeks before coming back and getting dropped by their record company.
Mark was still writing lots of music and wanted to go to Nashville and get another deal because that was his real passion.
We had visited his sister Joyce and her family in Vail Colorado before moving to Nashville and decided to spend two years in Nashville pursuing the music business and then move the family to Vail. We had fallen in love with it while visiting there.
It was Marks idea to split the bills since we were both working and he needed to have money to play golf and it was nice that I didn't have to ask him for money. Anything I had extra went on my boys! :)
One of my good friends who had worked at the bank with me, had left to become a waitress at a popular restaurant called The Circle Cafe. She said she was making a lot of money there. This was 1980 and my salary at the bank was $1000. a month and I was paying for full time child care. Leaving my children in child care tore me up every day. I wanted to stay home with them so much it hurt. It was always a battle between mark and I over me wanting to be home with the kids.
I didn't tell tight wad Mark that I would make more money. I convinced him that I would be able to work and be home with the boys during the day, therefor having no child care to pay. He said sure!
I would leave for the restaurant at 5PM when Mark got home from his job. I would work till close, five nights a week. Since I worked weekends to make more money, I only had two weekday mornings I had to get up early with the boys. I usually got off between one and two AM.
I was averaging $100. a night. Twice what I was making at the bank. Got to raise my own kids plus had $200. a week that the cheap skate didn't know about. The boys and I went to lunch and shopping with my mom twice a week!
And the job was FUN! I could write a book just about my adventures at The Circle Cafe!
We made our move to Nashville in the early spring of 1982. I hated leaving my job and friends but this was our plan. I soon found another restaurant job. Not hard to find.
Mark and I were starting to be very unhappy with each other. I constantly complained that he didn't love me and he never denied it. We started talking about divorce and then I found out that I was pregnant once again. We immediately agreed we should stay together and try and make it work.
One of my MAJOR problems I had with Mark, besides not feeling loved and appreciated.
He constantly let me know that I wasn't pretty. He talked about the beautiful women he had dated before he knew me. He did say that if we had a girl this time, he hoped she had straight white teeth like me! There were so many things wrong with my appearance like my nose was too big and I didn't have high cheek bones like he did. Plus no one in my family had ever graduated from college. We were all dumb asses!
I can't remember all the vile crap he tortured me with but I believed every word.
On March 3rd 1984 my little red headed Megan was born. Marc Patrick was born with red hair but turned to a strawberry blond before he started school. Michael was a blond from the get go. But it was obvious that that this red hair was here to stay. She also had a skin tone that wasn't the usual light color on most red heads. She came out with a tan!
We moved to Vail in May of 1985. Mark started working for a guy "Dan" who owned all of the vending machine and arcade games in (I think) the whole Vail Valley. I worked at a restaurant for awhile until I found a job in another bank because it was the "off" season for the resort and restaurants were not busy enough to make much money. So here I was with one child in school and two in day care. After paying childcare every week I had $25 left. I couldn't see the point in this but Mark said $25 is money to buy food. What an IDIOT!
Michael had fallen at the day care in the fall and was in the hospital for several days. We had a Plastic Surgeon repair his face and it turned out well. Then at Christmas I injured my back cutting down a tree and the bank "let me go" because I was taking too much time off. I got a job at Pizza Hut! Woopee!!!
I was so miserable I started loosing weight like crazy, which was fine because I was eating from depression earlier. I told Mark I wanted a divorce. He said he didn't care if I left but I couldn't take the kids. I asked him to go to marriage counseling and he refused. So I told him I was going to get an attorney and move out as soon as I saved enough money. He said his boss "Dan" was mostly paying him in cash anyway and Dan also agreed to show Mark's income as much less than it was just so I wouldn't get any financial support.
Another important part of this story is that after Megan was born, I was diagnosed with a large Fibroid Tumor growing in my uterus. I didn't have time for the surgery before we moved to Vail because it required four weeks recovery.
I didn't have the time or money to have the surgery done then. I did realize that every time my periods came they got much heavier and I started acting like a crazed bitch on wheels. My IDIOT Dr told me that the Fibroid had nothing to do with my mood swings. I had never had any noticeable PMS in my whole life till now. And now I was being "possessed" ten days out of every month.
It was right after one those periods that I met a guy when I went out to a bar after work with one of my girlfriends. Even though I was preparing to move within weeks, I didn't tell the guy my name or anything about me. We only danced.
Two weeks later the guy who had run into one of the friends I had been out with that night, told him where I worked and he showed up there. I told him what was going on in my life but he kept pursuing me. Two weeks before I moved out, we started an affair. I didn't tell Mark because he had already said he didn't care what I did!
I moved out in the spring or 1986.
In a month or so Mark decided he wanted to try marriage counseling. We went one time and while we were there that I absolutely, positively did not love him anymore. It took a long time to get up the guts to leave him, and I was done! He had made me feel as low about myself as a human being can.
With all the threats about taking the kids away from me, let alone the nine years of personal attacks on me and my family. Enough
It took years before my children started coming back to live with me. Thats a painful story. More painful for the kids.
I have one more tale to tell before I get to that.
Coming up next: Webster Atwell The Second
#7 "Husband #2 Yes, I Married My Attorney"
Two hours after my "first" divorce was final, my attorney, Dennis L Berry called and asked me for a date.
I was twenty two, he was forty one. I didn't know how old he was at the time. He was older, good looking and was a partner in a Law Firm! Plus I was like a babe in the woods.
I had gotten a job at a very nice clothing "Boutique", had rented a one bedroom apartment and hired a baby sitter.
But my choices of guys to date in that town were slim. The only "hot" guys I liked that were around my age were drug dealers. I didn't drink or do drugs back then but I quickly learned...
So I started dating Dennis. He had quite a little "Cutty Sark" addiction going on but I really hadn't hung around with people who drank much at that time. Remember "dry county"!
He treated me like a princess. I was basically "arm candy" when we attended social gatherings and hung out at the Country Club. He took me on lots of shopping sprees. His brother, a Pilot for American, had his own airplane and several times we went to Mexico and to the Horse Races in Hot Springs and Kentucky.
He taught me to like wine and also the social graces needed so I wouldn't embarrass him in public. He had me reading lots of books, plus magazines like The New Yorker and even Playboy.
He did change my life, but he was also controlling and manipulative. Which I was used to.
I rarely saw my family the two years we dated. And I rarely saw my son Randy because when I wasn't working, Dennis was paying for extra baby sitting so I could be with him. As much as I loved my son, The attention and affection I was getting from Dennis was like a drug to me. I had never felt adored and loved in my whole life.
Because of my little job, I qualified for a low interest FHA Loan and bought a house.
At that time my relationship with Dennis was falling apart. I started feeling some independence. Dennis didn't want to get married again because he was paying a huge amount of alimony and child support every month for his three children which were twenty minutes away and rarely saw.
I didn't know what I wanted then. I tried breaking it off. I started seeing other people, a lot of them! Dennis was stalking me and driving me nuts.
I left Randy with my aunt Bev for what was supposed to be the weekend and turned into a week. I went to Little Rock with my friend Dixie Houston to visit my brother Steve. He was a roadie for STIX and lived in a big old southern mansion with the rest of the roadies. Needless to say, Dixie and I had a blast.
That same year my aunt Bev moved back to Florida.
Randy's dad had gotten re-married and they wanted custody of Randy. My life was always a mess. I honestly thought Randy would be better off in a "real" home than living in the "party palace". I hope it was better! I rarely saw him.
I went to visit my aunt Bev in Florida and was thinking of staying there when Dennis showed up about a week after I got there. I don't remember everything that happened after that. He went home, and about a week later called and asked me to marry him. I said yes. He flew me back, bought me a house and an MGB and we got married at his friends house.
When I left Dennis, after nine months of marriage, I had no money. Because I was kind enough to not take the MGB he had given me, he brought me a five year old Pontiac Le Mans that been sideswiped from the front bumper to the back bumper. You could only open the driver side door. One of his drunken Lawyer friends had done it on the way home from the Country Club and sold it to Dennis so I would have a car.
I left Dennis because I thought he would stop drinking after we got married and he didn't. I also knew it wasn't a "real" marriage. We were taking care of each other.
I moved I with a friend of mine who was a Diabetic and she let me live there free for taking care of her. I did the cooking and cleaning and also had a job as a waitress and was trying to save money to live on my own. My roomie also had a Dilauded habit, so there were always drug dealers around.
I moved out for two months and couldn't pay my bills so I had to moved back.
While I was living there I met soon to be husband #3.
I was twenty two, he was forty one. I didn't know how old he was at the time. He was older, good looking and was a partner in a Law Firm! Plus I was like a babe in the woods.
I had gotten a job at a very nice clothing "Boutique", had rented a one bedroom apartment and hired a baby sitter.
But my choices of guys to date in that town were slim. The only "hot" guys I liked that were around my age were drug dealers. I didn't drink or do drugs back then but I quickly learned...
So I started dating Dennis. He had quite a little "Cutty Sark" addiction going on but I really hadn't hung around with people who drank much at that time. Remember "dry county"!
He treated me like a princess. I was basically "arm candy" when we attended social gatherings and hung out at the Country Club. He took me on lots of shopping sprees. His brother, a Pilot for American, had his own airplane and several times we went to Mexico and to the Horse Races in Hot Springs and Kentucky.
He taught me to like wine and also the social graces needed so I wouldn't embarrass him in public. He had me reading lots of books, plus magazines like The New Yorker and even Playboy.
He did change my life, but he was also controlling and manipulative. Which I was used to.
I rarely saw my family the two years we dated. And I rarely saw my son Randy because when I wasn't working, Dennis was paying for extra baby sitting so I could be with him. As much as I loved my son, The attention and affection I was getting from Dennis was like a drug to me. I had never felt adored and loved in my whole life.
Because of my little job, I qualified for a low interest FHA Loan and bought a house.
At that time my relationship with Dennis was falling apart. I started feeling some independence. Dennis didn't want to get married again because he was paying a huge amount of alimony and child support every month for his three children which were twenty minutes away and rarely saw.
I didn't know what I wanted then. I tried breaking it off. I started seeing other people, a lot of them! Dennis was stalking me and driving me nuts.
I left Randy with my aunt Bev for what was supposed to be the weekend and turned into a week. I went to Little Rock with my friend Dixie Houston to visit my brother Steve. He was a roadie for STIX and lived in a big old southern mansion with the rest of the roadies. Needless to say, Dixie and I had a blast.
That same year my aunt Bev moved back to Florida.
Randy's dad had gotten re-married and they wanted custody of Randy. My life was always a mess. I honestly thought Randy would be better off in a "real" home than living in the "party palace". I hope it was better! I rarely saw him.
I went to visit my aunt Bev in Florida and was thinking of staying there when Dennis showed up about a week after I got there. I don't remember everything that happened after that. He went home, and about a week later called and asked me to marry him. I said yes. He flew me back, bought me a house and an MGB and we got married at his friends house.
When I left Dennis, after nine months of marriage, I had no money. Because I was kind enough to not take the MGB he had given me, he brought me a five year old Pontiac Le Mans that been sideswiped from the front bumper to the back bumper. You could only open the driver side door. One of his drunken Lawyer friends had done it on the way home from the Country Club and sold it to Dennis so I would have a car.
I left Dennis because I thought he would stop drinking after we got married and he didn't. I also knew it wasn't a "real" marriage. We were taking care of each other.
I moved I with a friend of mine who was a Diabetic and she let me live there free for taking care of her. I did the cooking and cleaning and also had a job as a waitress and was trying to save money to live on my own. My roomie also had a Dilauded habit, so there were always drug dealers around.
I moved out for two months and couldn't pay my bills so I had to moved back.
While I was living there I met soon to be husband #3.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Got MLK?
Today is Martin Luther King Day.
IT reminds us of how far we all have come, and also how far we have left to go.
On our local radio talk stations here in Denver (The swing state) everyone was in a tizzy last week because the Denver public schools were going to serve fried chicken, turnip greens and biscuits!
I had to think about that, for one second.
When we honor the Irish on St Patrick's Day most everyone eats Corned Beef and Cabbage and wash it down with buckets of Guinness.
Cinco De Mayo, Mexican food and Barrels of Margaritas.
Columbus Day? I'm guessing Italian food since the Italians are the only ones who care, and most of us get the day off. Plus, Columbus committed genocide after arriving here in this pristine country.
Now, the Denver school district was NOT thinking that they were being "Politically Incorrect" when they came up with this menu. I believe they were thinking about honoring a WHOLE RACE of people in this country with one of the best meals that they themselves created.
Us white folks will drive out our way for food that good, and not just on MLK Day!
Why can't we fucking relax?
Well the wonderful southern meal has been cancelled. It's probably Cardboard Pizza day on Monday anyway!
"We must learn to live together as brothers, or perish together as fools". Martin Luther King Jr.
IT reminds us of how far we all have come, and also how far we have left to go.
On our local radio talk stations here in Denver (The swing state) everyone was in a tizzy last week because the Denver public schools were going to serve fried chicken, turnip greens and biscuits!
I had to think about that, for one second.
When we honor the Irish on St Patrick's Day most everyone eats Corned Beef and Cabbage and wash it down with buckets of Guinness.
Cinco De Mayo, Mexican food and Barrels of Margaritas.
Columbus Day? I'm guessing Italian food since the Italians are the only ones who care, and most of us get the day off. Plus, Columbus committed genocide after arriving here in this pristine country.
Now, the Denver school district was NOT thinking that they were being "Politically Incorrect" when they came up with this menu. I believe they were thinking about honoring a WHOLE RACE of people in this country with one of the best meals that they themselves created.
Us white folks will drive out our way for food that good, and not just on MLK Day!
Why can't we fucking relax?
Well the wonderful southern meal has been cancelled. It's probably Cardboard Pizza day on Monday anyway!
"We must learn to live together as brothers, or perish together as fools". Martin Luther King Jr.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Dickless in Seattle
A couple of weeks ago a good friend of mine in Florida sent me an email about shrimp and grits, among other things. She had also forwarded it to two or three of her close friends.
Since I had recently started blogging about my Sukey past, I forwarded along the link to my blog to these "ladies".
I immediately started to receive messages about how great I was to be doing this. and about being sympathetic to my harsh childhood and the rape I endured as a teenager.
Rake7 was constantly telling me how beautiful and stunning I was!
There were a few cryptic things in each message that I wondered about but did not question. The sender, kept saying things like "all will be revealed soon"!
There were also sign offs like I Hope you have a "titillating" evening etc..
I felt comfortable enough with this person who was witty and also insightful about relationships. It was all harmless "girl talk", until rake7 sent me a picture of "HIMSELF"! I literally rolled on the floor for five minutes with laughter.
I even sent my friend an earlier email asking who rake7 was. She just said "funny" was rake7's middle name..
After rolling on the floor, I told her I had a new BFF! LOL
When I answered rake7 back, he said he hoped he would still be able to provide insight from a mans perspective.
I wasn't real comfortable with the idea but decided it was OK since this person was a good friend of my friend. I thought I might hear from him occasionally. OK
Then I started to get about two full page messages every day that would each contain sexual innuendos and even more blunt sexual crap.
I instinctively tried to keep things lite and toned down a bit from the exchanges I was having with the girls. I was starting to be very uncomfortable.
Then he sent me a message stating him noticing my messages to him were somehow different and more toned down now that I knew he was a he.
I sent him a message that said things like this can get out of hand. Please tell me you were just kidding and you really are a woman!
He fired a message right back going into great detail about a BI girlfriend he had once who liked women with very large breast in bed with them! It went on and on and on.
Then he said women were the worst at talking trash about men. OK I'm a woman!
Glad thats all cleared up. I really HATE being used!
This was all for you DICKLESS ASSHOLE!!!
Since I had recently started blogging about my Sukey past, I forwarded along the link to my blog to these "ladies".
I immediately started to receive messages about how great I was to be doing this. and about being sympathetic to my harsh childhood and the rape I endured as a teenager.
Rake7 was constantly telling me how beautiful and stunning I was!
There were a few cryptic things in each message that I wondered about but did not question. The sender, kept saying things like "all will be revealed soon"!
There were also sign offs like I Hope you have a "titillating" evening etc..
I felt comfortable enough with this person who was witty and also insightful about relationships. It was all harmless "girl talk", until rake7 sent me a picture of "HIMSELF"! I literally rolled on the floor for five minutes with laughter.
I even sent my friend an earlier email asking who rake7 was. She just said "funny" was rake7's middle name..
After rolling on the floor, I told her I had a new BFF! LOL
When I answered rake7 back, he said he hoped he would still be able to provide insight from a mans perspective.
I wasn't real comfortable with the idea but decided it was OK since this person was a good friend of my friend. I thought I might hear from him occasionally. OK
Then I started to get about two full page messages every day that would each contain sexual innuendos and even more blunt sexual crap.
I instinctively tried to keep things lite and toned down a bit from the exchanges I was having with the girls. I was starting to be very uncomfortable.
Then he sent me a message stating him noticing my messages to him were somehow different and more toned down now that I knew he was a he.
I sent him a message that said things like this can get out of hand. Please tell me you were just kidding and you really are a woman!
He fired a message right back going into great detail about a BI girlfriend he had once who liked women with very large breast in bed with them! It went on and on and on.
Then he said women were the worst at talking trash about men. OK I'm a woman!
Glad thats all cleared up. I really HATE being used!
This was all for you DICKLESS ASSHOLE!!!
The Only thing I Hate More Than A Label Is Someone Judging Me
If you only read one book this year, read: Letter To A Christian Nation, by Sam Harris.
I did like the book, Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott that my daughter Megan asked me to read. It was an enjoyable book.
Because we are raised in a religious society, we all have questions. And it's not just us "non believers". Some of the most religious people I've known throughout my life are constantly questioning, not their faith, just certain things they run into in reading the bible or in conversation with their peers.
All of my life I've been the one who ALWAYS has a question that can't be answered. And It's partly because of this that I don't believe the bible. The rest you will understand after reading Letter To A Christian Nation.
In the past, when I ask a question that I deem serious, there are always one of TWO answers. The most common is: well, you're a non believer or you wouldn't ask that. Second, the person actually hears my question and says: that's a good question and I'm going to investigate that and get back to you and they do.
Here's the latest thing I'm curious about. It's a several part question Let's get started...
Was Adam literally created in Gods Image? Even if he was or not, why was he created with the "equipment" to re-produce? It was only when Adam became lonely that Eve was created from A rib from Adam while he slept.
I have a LOOOONG list if you are ever bored and would like a challenge.
Because I have an analytical mind doesn't necessarily mean I'm smart. It just means I need the truth told in a way that makes sense. I won't settle for less! Maybe that's because I've seen and heard about the people who have died in the name of religion. I blows my mind that a human being would die because his belief is the "RIGHT" or "CHOSEN" belief. I want no part of that!
I've been watching the devastation in Haiti on the news. I see many Nations coming to the aid of our fellow human beings. I ask myself, why can't we be like this every day of every hour? It pains me to think that after the "clean up" we will all go back to hating each other for one reason or another.
I honestly don't care how we got here. I care how we treat each other. I care that when a child is born, we understand the importance of loving and nurturing that child until it is time to leave the nest. And that child has everything it needs to live a happy, well informed, well balanced life and they can continue the cycle when and if they choose to.
Why do most people feel the need to belong to an organization that judges the rest of the world?
If we all started today to show all children how to love and be loved, In twenty years we would be living in a beautiful world.
I did like the book, Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott that my daughter Megan asked me to read. It was an enjoyable book.
Because we are raised in a religious society, we all have questions. And it's not just us "non believers". Some of the most religious people I've known throughout my life are constantly questioning, not their faith, just certain things they run into in reading the bible or in conversation with their peers.
All of my life I've been the one who ALWAYS has a question that can't be answered. And It's partly because of this that I don't believe the bible. The rest you will understand after reading Letter To A Christian Nation.
In the past, when I ask a question that I deem serious, there are always one of TWO answers. The most common is: well, you're a non believer or you wouldn't ask that. Second, the person actually hears my question and says: that's a good question and I'm going to investigate that and get back to you and they do.
Here's the latest thing I'm curious about. It's a several part question Let's get started...
Was Adam literally created in Gods Image? Even if he was or not, why was he created with the "equipment" to re-produce? It was only when Adam became lonely that Eve was created from A rib from Adam while he slept.
I have a LOOOONG list if you are ever bored and would like a challenge.
Because I have an analytical mind doesn't necessarily mean I'm smart. It just means I need the truth told in a way that makes sense. I won't settle for less! Maybe that's because I've seen and heard about the people who have died in the name of religion. I blows my mind that a human being would die because his belief is the "RIGHT" or "CHOSEN" belief. I want no part of that!
I've been watching the devastation in Haiti on the news. I see many Nations coming to the aid of our fellow human beings. I ask myself, why can't we be like this every day of every hour? It pains me to think that after the "clean up" we will all go back to hating each other for one reason or another.
I honestly don't care how we got here. I care how we treat each other. I care that when a child is born, we understand the importance of loving and nurturing that child until it is time to leave the nest. And that child has everything it needs to live a happy, well informed, well balanced life and they can continue the cycle when and if they choose to.
Why do most people feel the need to belong to an organization that judges the rest of the world?
If we all started today to show all children how to love and be loved, In twenty years we would be living in a beautiful world.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
#6 Husband #1
I married Don Harper in December of 1964. We had a small but nice wedding in the conference room of the bank where his dad worked.
We had our first big fight less than a week after we got married. I threw a vase at him and missed. He threw a right curve and threw me across the room.
We had a very nice arrangement from that day on. He told me what to do, and I did it!
If I went shopping with my mother, he had to know the exact time I left and when I would return. He would drive by and make sure I was home every day.
This went on for years. I wasn't in love with him. I just thought it would be more fun than living with my parents at the time. I don't think Don ever loved me either. I was his personal Barbie that didn't have an opinion about anything and always had a smile :)
I finally started wanting a baby because I was lonely and needed someone to love.
This marriage lasted for nearly five years and a lot happened. Most of it was pretty boring crap but there were times I've tried hard to forget. Because of my son, I won't bore you with the gory details.
Don was a very controlling man and used my naivete to keep me from leaving. He drilled it into my head constantly that I had no place to go and no skills to survive. And he was right.
When I finally got up the courage, my uncle flew from Florida to be there for support. I had to leave my baby because I had a shotgun pointed at my head and was afraid he would kill us all.
I hired an attorney who told me not to worry. It took about two months for the divorce to become final. A week before that, Don returned my baby to me.
The end of one battle and beginning of the next:
We had our first big fight less than a week after we got married. I threw a vase at him and missed. He threw a right curve and threw me across the room.
We had a very nice arrangement from that day on. He told me what to do, and I did it!
If I went shopping with my mother, he had to know the exact time I left and when I would return. He would drive by and make sure I was home every day.
This went on for years. I wasn't in love with him. I just thought it would be more fun than living with my parents at the time. I don't think Don ever loved me either. I was his personal Barbie that didn't have an opinion about anything and always had a smile :)
I finally started wanting a baby because I was lonely and needed someone to love.
This marriage lasted for nearly five years and a lot happened. Most of it was pretty boring crap but there were times I've tried hard to forget. Because of my son, I won't bore you with the gory details.
Don was a very controlling man and used my naivete to keep me from leaving. He drilled it into my head constantly that I had no place to go and no skills to survive. And he was right.
When I finally got up the courage, my uncle flew from Florida to be there for support. I had to leave my baby because I had a shotgun pointed at my head and was afraid he would kill us all.
I hired an attorney who told me not to worry. It took about two months for the divorce to become final. A week before that, Don returned my baby to me.
The end of one battle and beginning of the next:
To My Children
You know that I tell you that I love you every time we speak. I think it's been too long, because I don't remember the last time that I said: I love you all more than anything in this world!
Giving life to the four of you has been my greatest accomplishment!
To Marc, Michael and Megan (couldn't help it,their last name is O'Leary) I know I made mistakes. But I believe you all knew I was trying my best. And I believe you know that because you are all happy,smart and independent young adults.
And to Randy, my firstborn, I can hardly find the words to tell you how ashamed I am for never being there for you. You were a beautiful, happy baby until I realized my life had to change because, except for you, my life was hell. I was living in "Elaines" world, believing I could make it as a single mom. Twenty two, no education, no skills and no financial or family support.
If you ever choose to speak to me again, I'll tell you anything you need to know.
And then beg for your forgiveness. Mom
This is one of my fave family pics. Thats my brother Tim and his friend Jana "the redhead" on the right.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
POOR ME
For those of you who still don't get it, listen up!
Pity is the last thing in the world I want, or need.
This is me shedding all my pain. It's about setting myself free. I want to smile just because it feels natural. Not to cover up the fear, insecurity and pain.
And I'm sick and tired of the person at the checkout acting like they care how I'm doing. Yesterday (with a very sad expression) I actually told the guy at the bagel shop that I wasn't doing well and that I was feeling homicidal. He said: that will be $10.60!
Pity is the last thing in the world I want, or need.
This is me shedding all my pain. It's about setting myself free. I want to smile just because it feels natural. Not to cover up the fear, insecurity and pain.
And I'm sick and tired of the person at the checkout acting like they care how I'm doing. Yesterday (with a very sad expression) I actually told the guy at the bagel shop that I wasn't doing well and that I was feeling homicidal. He said: that will be $10.60!
Monday, January 11, 2010
# 5 Steven Kendall Wilson
This is a picture of my brother Steve when he was five and in kindergarten.I remember him at four when we had our pictures taken together at my grandparents home. But most of my memories go back to where we were both in school.
He really was afraid to start school. We lived out in the country and had to ride the school bus. On the first day of school in 1955 he started to cry on the way to the bus.
We had a large front yard, and Steve got about half way to the bus before starting to cry uncontrollably.
Since dad had already left for work, my mother had to doll out the punishment herself.
She brought out a belt and started whipping the crap out of my little brother. She beat him all the way to the bus. The next day, the very same thing happened. By the end of the week, he was more than happy to go to school.
Gee, school days bring back such fond memories.....
That makes me think of the time my parents came to watch me in a school play when I was in sixth grade. My teacher had picked me to sing a short song so I really felt special. On the way home that evening my dad told me that I was an awful singer! Thanks dad, for FUCKING ME UP!
Back to Steve. This story is about him.
I don't remember anything bad about that kid except that he was sweet and very shy. Although he and our cousin Steve Shelly set the back of the Glass Baptist Church (named after our great grandparents) on fire. No worries, it's still standing.
Another very bad thing that happened in the fall after Steve started school. One weekend we went to the local store (as we did every weekend) to buy food and whatever other supplies we needed. Back then you would buy food, fabric and dress patterns, chicken feed and Schlitz, all in the same place. It was like a micro Walmart. Anyhoo, dad bought Steve a paper box kite. Steve couldn't wait to get home and put it together and fly it. Dad was busy and said he would help put it together after work the next day. While dad was at work Steve was just too eager to wait, so he put it together himself. He was only six, so of course he screwed it up a bit. And it did cost a whole fucking ten cents. When dad got home and saw the kite, he grabbed it from Steve, wadded it up and tossed it in the wood stove where my mother had built a fire earlier to take the chill out of the air. There was a chill in the air in their home till the day Steve died...
I carefully placed a box kite (still in it's wrapper) in my brothers coffin just before it was closed, forty four years later.
He would catch Poison Ivy every summer. And of course mom and dad would get mad at him for being a boy and playing in the woods. He should have been hospitalized several times. His whole body would be swollen and oozing. My mother told me one day that he couldn't urinate because his penis was so swollen. He would be in sheer agony for a couple of weeks. They would cover him with Calamine lotion and he would lie in the bed crying in agony.
When we lived in the few shacks without running water, it was Steve's job to carry two, five gallon buckets of water at a time from the well. He was fourteen when they finally moved back to civilization.
We lived in a DRY county. No alcohol sold there. Steve started drinking by the time he was fifteen. Don't know where or how he got the liquor.
When he was sixteen he went back to Michigan and lived with our aunt for awhile. When he came back home in the fall, the town sheriff came out to the house and told our parents that Steve been breaking into vending machines. Steve denied it and swore it wasn't him. Our dad told Steve that was the kind of thing he expected from him. He told Steve that he was "worthless" and would "never amount anything" and told him he was going to end up in jail. The Sheriff suggested they sign for him to go to the military to avoid jail. They immediately did!
Hello Vietnam!
Since he was still seventeen and too young to kill,(need to be eighteen for that) the Army made him a cook.
Back then the Army had a "special" going on. Instead on staying there for twelve months, they would let you go back home after nine months, stay home for a month, and then return for six more months. What a deal! Steve took it. He went AWAL the day before time to go back and it took the Army several weeks to find him and send him back. The day he landed back in Natrang Vietnam, he went AWAL and didn't show up till time to go home. That earned him an "Undesirable" discharge".
He was drinking a LOT when he came back and doing any drug he could find. I've personally seen him swallow handfuls of speed and whatever. It scared me but he seemed to know what he was doing. I didn't drink or do drugs back then. Well I did smoke pot. Does that count? He couldn't live with mom and dad so he bounced around all over the place.
He taught himself to play the guitar very well and had a good voice. I know he made money as a street singer in the very early seventies. He looked and sounded just like Elton John and kids who were just starting to hear Elton John on the radio really did think Steve was him!
I was so wrapped up in my own messed up life that I couldn't think strait.
I know Steve went through much worse than I ever will know.
At Steve's funeral my dad cried and said he wished he had Steve's life to do over.
I wish things had been different and I could have been there for you. I love you Steve
Saturday, January 9, 2010
# Four
When I dropped out of school in the summer of 1964 at the age of fifteen, my parents were expecting. They found out in mid September that were expecting twins. My dad went out and found a job as a carpenter. He had never built anything before. But in no time at all his boss B J (who's parents also didn't have time to pick out a real name) could see that dad was a natural. He ended up making a very good living from his "accidental" career.
There was another big event that summer. One Saturday afternoon, my cousin Jan, who lived a mile or so down the same dirt road I lived on, asked me to go to town with her that night to meet her boyfriend Ray. To my surprise, mom and dad said OK.
She picked me up in her dads black 1950 Ford coupe. After picking me up, she pulled off to the side of the road and reached under the dash to dis-connect the odometer. (Her dad always checked the mileage because they thought they were keeping her on a short leash).
We drove to town and pulled into the Dairy Queen where Ray was waiting in a car with his friend Don. Within a few minutes, Jan said that she and Ray were going to "park" for awhile and I could hang out with Don till they returned.
I was a real dumb ass back then. Maybe still am!
After chatting and laughing and getting more comfortable around Don, he said that he knew Jan and Ray wouldn't be back any time soon and we should just go driving around town. That's what everyone seemed to be doing.
Now know this: At this point I had only made out with two boys in my life. Plus one girl! When I was nine, my BFF across the street wanted to know how it felt to kiss on the lips. I was curious myself, so we tried it. The curiosity was over in a few seconds!
Don drove me through town and down a dark road to Mill Creek, which was a local swimming hole for teens.
He came close to me and we started making out. Within a couple of minutes I was pushing his hands away. Everything happened so fast. I was saying STOP STOP STOP as he was pushing me around and under the stirring wheel. He had his for arm on my neck while pulling my panties off with his other hand. I was crying by now, but it was too late. I had just been raped!
I jumped out of the car. My first instinct was to jump off of the bridge we were parked by. He started saying I wanted it and I asked for it. He said he didn't know I was a virgin or he would have stopped. Yeah right!
I didn't even know what "IT" was! That's how naive I was!
I had no idea how people had sex or even how people got pregnant. Or even where babies came from.
He drove me back to meet Jan and I acted like nothing happened. I wasn't sure what did happen or what it was called. That wasn't talked about where and when I grew up.
This next part is really going to freak you out!!!
In my own young mind, I knew I was now one of the "bad" girls. I thought that since I had sex with him, we would have to get married.
Jan had said that Don wanted to see me again (I bet he did) and I said OK.
Knowing that my parents wouldn't let me date, I started making up lies about walking to Jan's several nights a week. We didn't have a phone, so there was no way they could check up. I would meet Don, who I found out was eight years older than me, and we would have sex, then I would walk home.
Within a few months my parents somehow found out that I was "dating" someone. When mom asked me about it, I started crying my eyes out and said I wanted to marry him. She asked me if I was pregnant? Thank "whoever", I wasn't.
They talked it over and said I had to wait a year. Fine with me!
My Parents twins had already been born. They were infants when all this happened.
Then we moved to the new town.
My mother found out she was pregnant again! At least we were finally living in a four room house with running water. The house we had lived in for two and a half years had no running water. Running water is something only working people can afford.
I need to say more but telling this has nearly sucked the life right out of me...See you soon.
There was another big event that summer. One Saturday afternoon, my cousin Jan, who lived a mile or so down the same dirt road I lived on, asked me to go to town with her that night to meet her boyfriend Ray. To my surprise, mom and dad said OK.
She picked me up in her dads black 1950 Ford coupe. After picking me up, she pulled off to the side of the road and reached under the dash to dis-connect the odometer. (Her dad always checked the mileage because they thought they were keeping her on a short leash).
We drove to town and pulled into the Dairy Queen where Ray was waiting in a car with his friend Don. Within a few minutes, Jan said that she and Ray were going to "park" for awhile and I could hang out with Don till they returned.
I was a real dumb ass back then. Maybe still am!
After chatting and laughing and getting more comfortable around Don, he said that he knew Jan and Ray wouldn't be back any time soon and we should just go driving around town. That's what everyone seemed to be doing.
Now know this: At this point I had only made out with two boys in my life. Plus one girl! When I was nine, my BFF across the street wanted to know how it felt to kiss on the lips. I was curious myself, so we tried it. The curiosity was over in a few seconds!
Don drove me through town and down a dark road to Mill Creek, which was a local swimming hole for teens.
He came close to me and we started making out. Within a couple of minutes I was pushing his hands away. Everything happened so fast. I was saying STOP STOP STOP as he was pushing me around and under the stirring wheel. He had his for arm on my neck while pulling my panties off with his other hand. I was crying by now, but it was too late. I had just been raped!
I jumped out of the car. My first instinct was to jump off of the bridge we were parked by. He started saying I wanted it and I asked for it. He said he didn't know I was a virgin or he would have stopped. Yeah right!
I didn't even know what "IT" was! That's how naive I was!
I had no idea how people had sex or even how people got pregnant. Or even where babies came from.
He drove me back to meet Jan and I acted like nothing happened. I wasn't sure what did happen or what it was called. That wasn't talked about where and when I grew up.
This next part is really going to freak you out!!!
In my own young mind, I knew I was now one of the "bad" girls. I thought that since I had sex with him, we would have to get married.
Jan had said that Don wanted to see me again (I bet he did) and I said OK.
Knowing that my parents wouldn't let me date, I started making up lies about walking to Jan's several nights a week. We didn't have a phone, so there was no way they could check up. I would meet Don, who I found out was eight years older than me, and we would have sex, then I would walk home.
Within a few months my parents somehow found out that I was "dating" someone. When mom asked me about it, I started crying my eyes out and said I wanted to marry him. She asked me if I was pregnant? Thank "whoever", I wasn't.
They talked it over and said I had to wait a year. Fine with me!
My Parents twins had already been born. They were infants when all this happened.
Then we moved to the new town.
My mother found out she was pregnant again! At least we were finally living in a four room house with running water. The house we had lived in for two and a half years had no running water. Running water is something only working people can afford.
I need to say more but telling this has nearly sucked the life right out of me...See you soon.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Part Three
I was born December twentieth, nineteen forty eight.
My very first memories are of my brother Steve and I having our pictures taken in the living room of my maternal grandparents. Winfred "Wink" and Stella Allen. My family lived in a small cottage which probably was more like a shanty, that sat behind my grandparents house on Crystal Avenue in Benton Harbor Michigan.
Back then the Olan Mills man would make an appointment and come to your home and take family portraits.
My grandparents still had a house full of children at that time. Their oldest, Marion (my mom) who lived behind their house, Winfred Jr who was in the Navy, Joseph (I believe still at home helping support the family), Bonnie, Doyle, Beverly, Jimmy Dale and Gerald, who was born three weeks before me.
Yes, I actually walked to Kindergarten with my uncle and we were the same age.
My grandparents had a tenth and final child, Kenneth about four years later.
That was the longest time I lived in one town when I was growing up.
When I was born I believe my dad was working for Studebaker as a painter. He left that job to work for The Whirlpool company.
When I was almost Two and my brother Steve was an infant, my dad had a horrible accident at work that nearly ripped off his left arm.
My mother had to drive until my dad recovered. While on the way to the hospital with my parents for my dads check up, I accidentally opened the back door of the car and went flying down the highway! The End...
Not really, I was in the hospital for a week with a concussion. I'm the reason for seat belts. Kidding
My parents moved back to Missouri when I started the first grade to be back where they grew up. First, we lived on my maternal great grandparents (Frank and Emma Glass)farm. My First Grade teacher was and old witch who had also taught my mother and her mother. Then we moved a short distance from there where I attended the Second and Third Grade.
Then we moved back to Michigan where I went to Fourth, Fifth and part of Sixth grade. We lived in a little town named Dowagiac that I loved. I made friends there and that's where my brother Kelly was born in 1959. That's when I learned about the "Birds and Bea's" from my mothers Family Dr who (a female) must have been 110 years old. She scared the shit out of me. She basically told me that good girls don't let bad boys put their hands down my blouse or up my skirt! Not that she would have ever experienced anything as much fun as that sounded.
Then I got my Period a few months later. My mom kept me home from school and read text from some ancient stone tablet about menstruating.
So basically, I knew Zero, Nothing, Nada, Zilch about SEX! Then we moved back to the south. I think it was Arkansas this time. Those fucking HICKS hated me because I was a "Dam Yankee". I hated them because they were fucking HICKS!
I did have have some fun because I was a blossoming young blond, and a "Dam Yankee" which the boys seemed to like and the girls hated!
We moved back to Michigan one more time. Long enough for me to go to two more schools.
Then back to the south.
During all this moving my father was working less and less. There was one period where I don't believe he had a job for almost three years. I don't know how we survived. My brother Steve and I would be pulled out of school four weeks early to work in our uncles cotton field hoeing weeds, then picking Strawberries. Then, from late summer till about three or four weeks after school started we were picking cotton for the same uncle.
I remember nine schools. I don't know how I even made it as far as I did.
My parents let me drop out after my second tour of the eighth grade. Steve and I were both held back for incomplete work. We had been threatened with that after the seventh grade.
I had a love/hate relationship with school. I spent hours looking out the windows and daydreaming about being anywhere else but there. I remember having a few interesting teachers and I always excelled in those classes.
I know now why they build schools without windows. Windows are expensive, and most teachers are BORING. In fact, some barely have a pulse!
After my second tour of the eighth grade, we moved to yet another town. It was just fifteen miles from the last. When I said I wanted quit school, my parents said "OK"! Which was weird because they never said yes to anything I wanted to do.
I believe that a "good" education is the key to self esteem. Without knowledge, we are full of insecurity.
EVERYONE says I can't blame my parents. Why the fuck not? Go ahead, give it your best shot!
My very first memories are of my brother Steve and I having our pictures taken in the living room of my maternal grandparents. Winfred "Wink" and Stella Allen. My family lived in a small cottage which probably was more like a shanty, that sat behind my grandparents house on Crystal Avenue in Benton Harbor Michigan.
Back then the Olan Mills man would make an appointment and come to your home and take family portraits.
My grandparents still had a house full of children at that time. Their oldest, Marion (my mom) who lived behind their house, Winfred Jr who was in the Navy, Joseph (I believe still at home helping support the family), Bonnie, Doyle, Beverly, Jimmy Dale and Gerald, who was born three weeks before me.
Yes, I actually walked to Kindergarten with my uncle and we were the same age.
My grandparents had a tenth and final child, Kenneth about four years later.
That was the longest time I lived in one town when I was growing up.
When I was born I believe my dad was working for Studebaker as a painter. He left that job to work for The Whirlpool company.
When I was almost Two and my brother Steve was an infant, my dad had a horrible accident at work that nearly ripped off his left arm.
My mother had to drive until my dad recovered. While on the way to the hospital with my parents for my dads check up, I accidentally opened the back door of the car and went flying down the highway! The End...
Not really, I was in the hospital for a week with a concussion. I'm the reason for seat belts. Kidding
My parents moved back to Missouri when I started the first grade to be back where they grew up. First, we lived on my maternal great grandparents (Frank and Emma Glass)farm. My First Grade teacher was and old witch who had also taught my mother and her mother. Then we moved a short distance from there where I attended the Second and Third Grade.
Then we moved back to Michigan where I went to Fourth, Fifth and part of Sixth grade. We lived in a little town named Dowagiac that I loved. I made friends there and that's where my brother Kelly was born in 1959. That's when I learned about the "Birds and Bea's" from my mothers Family Dr who (a female) must have been 110 years old. She scared the shit out of me. She basically told me that good girls don't let bad boys put their hands down my blouse or up my skirt! Not that she would have ever experienced anything as much fun as that sounded.
Then I got my Period a few months later. My mom kept me home from school and read text from some ancient stone tablet about menstruating.
So basically, I knew Zero, Nothing, Nada, Zilch about SEX! Then we moved back to the south. I think it was Arkansas this time. Those fucking HICKS hated me because I was a "Dam Yankee". I hated them because they were fucking HICKS!
I did have have some fun because I was a blossoming young blond, and a "Dam Yankee" which the boys seemed to like and the girls hated!
We moved back to Michigan one more time. Long enough for me to go to two more schools.
Then back to the south.
During all this moving my father was working less and less. There was one period where I don't believe he had a job for almost three years. I don't know how we survived. My brother Steve and I would be pulled out of school four weeks early to work in our uncles cotton field hoeing weeds, then picking Strawberries. Then, from late summer till about three or four weeks after school started we were picking cotton for the same uncle.
I remember nine schools. I don't know how I even made it as far as I did.
My parents let me drop out after my second tour of the eighth grade. Steve and I were both held back for incomplete work. We had been threatened with that after the seventh grade.
I had a love/hate relationship with school. I spent hours looking out the windows and daydreaming about being anywhere else but there. I remember having a few interesting teachers and I always excelled in those classes.
I know now why they build schools without windows. Windows are expensive, and most teachers are BORING. In fact, some barely have a pulse!
After my second tour of the eighth grade, we moved to yet another town. It was just fifteen miles from the last. When I said I wanted quit school, my parents said "OK"! Which was weird because they never said yes to anything I wanted to do.
I believe that a "good" education is the key to self esteem. Without knowledge, we are full of insecurity.
EVERYONE says I can't blame my parents. Why the fuck not? Go ahead, give it your best shot!
Who Am I part TWO
Today would be my mothers eighty first birthday so I'll continue my story in her memory.
Everyone who ever knew or even met Marion liked her instantly. She was beautiful inside and out. In her younger days no one could take their eyes off her. She was a thin, dark skinned brunette with light grey eyes and a dazzling smile. People often asked me if my mother was a movie star. She easily could have been.
She had little education but was very smart. She loved to read and was well spoken. She wanted to be a writer all her life.
I have heard family members say that basically, my dad broke her spirit. I'm not quite sure what that means. I do think that being a southern woman back then and living in a society run by men is what broke my mothers spirit.
We still live in a society where religion dictates that the man is the head of the household and the woman should be subservient. Just a short rant, back to mom.
I mean if she didn't have babies, manage the home (shop,plan meals,cook meals, do laundry and ironing, clean the house, raise vegetables, put up vegetables throughout the summer) and still look gorgeous while doing all that, who would? And she managed to see :As The World Turns" (her fave) every day! I don't know a man who could begin to do all that. And if there were a man who could do all that, they wouldn't need us because they would also be getting all the sex they wanted!
Jesus, I'm tired just talking about what my mom and the rest of us girls have to do!
As I said before, my parents were madly in love and that's what kept my mother smiling and happy all those years. Though she never gave up on her dream of becoming a writer.
I had a lot of fun with my mom after I grew up. I was in denial at that time. (Denial is a place I move in and out of freely depending on how well equipped I am to handle a situation).
I harbour some anger toward her at times for ALWAYS putting my father before me and my brother Steve who was born eighteen months after me. And for never coming to our defense. She was the mother who would wait until dad got home from work and tell what we did wrong that day. Then he would take off his belt and spank us. Not just a couple of licks. Steve and I often had raised red welts on the backs of our legs that lasted for days! That's because we were usually trying to run.
So yeah, she could be a bitch that way.
She would also say nothing when my dad criticized us, which was on a daily basis. He was a perfectionist when it came to performing any task. I can't peel a potato to this day without thinking about all those potatoes I peeled wrong.
Steve and I avoided our dad as much as possible! We became "PERFECTIONIST" at avoiding him! Little humor there...
At the same time, they couldn't care less about our education. They never asked if we had homework and barely looked at our report cards. (I definitely was lacking in that department after becoming a parent myself)
Now it seriously sounds like I'm moving onto talking about my dad. J. B..What does that say right there when your parents don't bother to think of a name for you? JFC
Dad's father (Ava Wilson) died when dad was two from a ruptured appendix. His mother (Millie Catherine) re-married a year later. My dad had to leave school after the fifth grade and work to help support his family. He worked at the age of eleven on barges that carried goods up and down the Mighty Mississippi! Then he joined the army and was stationed in Japan after we nuked them! He met my mom, (who's family he had know as a child) and two months later they were married.
I'm sure they must have loved us, but as we grew up it was evident that they didn't want to deal with our problems.
When we were happy and doing well things were fine between us. When our lives were a mess they just wanted to get away from us.
They really wanted it to be just the two of them.
Now it is...
Everyone who ever knew or even met Marion liked her instantly. She was beautiful inside and out. In her younger days no one could take their eyes off her. She was a thin, dark skinned brunette with light grey eyes and a dazzling smile. People often asked me if my mother was a movie star. She easily could have been.
She had little education but was very smart. She loved to read and was well spoken. She wanted to be a writer all her life.
I have heard family members say that basically, my dad broke her spirit. I'm not quite sure what that means. I do think that being a southern woman back then and living in a society run by men is what broke my mothers spirit.
We still live in a society where religion dictates that the man is the head of the household and the woman should be subservient. Just a short rant, back to mom.
I mean if she didn't have babies, manage the home (shop,plan meals,cook meals, do laundry and ironing, clean the house, raise vegetables, put up vegetables throughout the summer) and still look gorgeous while doing all that, who would? And she managed to see :As The World Turns" (her fave) every day! I don't know a man who could begin to do all that. And if there were a man who could do all that, they wouldn't need us because they would also be getting all the sex they wanted!
Jesus, I'm tired just talking about what my mom and the rest of us girls have to do!
As I said before, my parents were madly in love and that's what kept my mother smiling and happy all those years. Though she never gave up on her dream of becoming a writer.
I had a lot of fun with my mom after I grew up. I was in denial at that time. (Denial is a place I move in and out of freely depending on how well equipped I am to handle a situation).
I harbour some anger toward her at times for ALWAYS putting my father before me and my brother Steve who was born eighteen months after me. And for never coming to our defense. She was the mother who would wait until dad got home from work and tell what we did wrong that day. Then he would take off his belt and spank us. Not just a couple of licks. Steve and I often had raised red welts on the backs of our legs that lasted for days! That's because we were usually trying to run.
So yeah, she could be a bitch that way.
She would also say nothing when my dad criticized us, which was on a daily basis. He was a perfectionist when it came to performing any task. I can't peel a potato to this day without thinking about all those potatoes I peeled wrong.
Steve and I avoided our dad as much as possible! We became "PERFECTIONIST" at avoiding him! Little humor there...
At the same time, they couldn't care less about our education. They never asked if we had homework and barely looked at our report cards. (I definitely was lacking in that department after becoming a parent myself)
Now it seriously sounds like I'm moving onto talking about my dad. J. B..What does that say right there when your parents don't bother to think of a name for you? JFC
Dad's father (Ava Wilson) died when dad was two from a ruptured appendix. His mother (Millie Catherine) re-married a year later. My dad had to leave school after the fifth grade and work to help support his family. He worked at the age of eleven on barges that carried goods up and down the Mighty Mississippi! Then he joined the army and was stationed in Japan after we nuked them! He met my mom, (who's family he had know as a child) and two months later they were married.
I'm sure they must have loved us, but as we grew up it was evident that they didn't want to deal with our problems.
When we were happy and doing well things were fine between us. When our lives were a mess they just wanted to get away from us.
They really wanted it to be just the two of them.
Now it is...
Friday, January 1, 2010
Who Am I
I recently turned sixty one. I think I look really good for my age. That's thanks in part to genetics, but also because if people are busy checking out my hair or how I dress, they won't be able to see inside me.
There are a lot of people who have had harder lives than me, but this is about me.
That's somewhat hypocritical because I'm always saying we live in a "I, Me, My" society. Back to ME.
Something happened to me when I turned fifty. I thought I had decided not to give a shit what people thought of me and not to be afraid anymore.
I did suddenly gain more self confidence and the ability to tell everyone exactly what I thought of them. I became an evil bitch, and for the first time in my life I knew I had a survival skill!
I was born at the end of 1948. Nine months and two weeks after my parents got married.
Like most married couples my parents had babies for no reason at all. They loved each other very much, even though they had only known each other for two months before getting married. Mom was twenty and dad was twenty three.
My mom had been married when she was eighteen. She grew up in the south (boot heel of Missouri) and her family of nine moved to Michigan when she was sixteen for work. Mom was the oldest of seven children and was made to leave school and help support her family. Shortly after moving to Michigan, her parents received a letter from the mother of a boy back in Missouri. Apparently my impetuous young mother had romanticized in letters to this woman's son who had just gotten out of the military, that she would marry him when she returned home. Her father said she must keep her promise of marrying the boy. I believe that decision was mostly based on the fact that the boys family had money. I'm sure they thought she would have a better life.
When in fact, she was married off to an alcoholic sexual sadist.
She survived rapes, beatings and the birth of a son. The baby was a Blue Baby and at that time there was no hope of survival and the infant lived for two months. The asshole husband died shortly thereafter in an auto crash. God does perform miracles. Why does he watch the torture first?
My parents had a long love affair that lasted fifty five years. They died a year apart.
This story is about how I became the fucked up waman I am today.
I plan to continue the saga by posting at least one a week. Or whenever the mood strikes.
There are a lot of people who have had harder lives than me, but this is about me.
That's somewhat hypocritical because I'm always saying we live in a "I, Me, My" society. Back to ME.
Something happened to me when I turned fifty. I thought I had decided not to give a shit what people thought of me and not to be afraid anymore.
I did suddenly gain more self confidence and the ability to tell everyone exactly what I thought of them. I became an evil bitch, and for the first time in my life I knew I had a survival skill!
I was born at the end of 1948. Nine months and two weeks after my parents got married.
Like most married couples my parents had babies for no reason at all. They loved each other very much, even though they had only known each other for two months before getting married. Mom was twenty and dad was twenty three.
My mom had been married when she was eighteen. She grew up in the south (boot heel of Missouri) and her family of nine moved to Michigan when she was sixteen for work. Mom was the oldest of seven children and was made to leave school and help support her family. Shortly after moving to Michigan, her parents received a letter from the mother of a boy back in Missouri. Apparently my impetuous young mother had romanticized in letters to this woman's son who had just gotten out of the military, that she would marry him when she returned home. Her father said she must keep her promise of marrying the boy. I believe that decision was mostly based on the fact that the boys family had money. I'm sure they thought she would have a better life.
When in fact, she was married off to an alcoholic sexual sadist.
She survived rapes, beatings and the birth of a son. The baby was a Blue Baby and at that time there was no hope of survival and the infant lived for two months. The asshole husband died shortly thereafter in an auto crash. God does perform miracles. Why does he watch the torture first?
My parents had a long love affair that lasted fifty five years. They died a year apart.
This story is about how I became the fucked up waman I am today.
I plan to continue the saga by posting at least one a week. Or whenever the mood strikes.
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