We in this house spend a lot of time judging one another. So-in-so isn’t doing enough around here. So-in-so gets a check and doesn’t work. So-in-so sleeps all day. So-in-so does this, that and the other which I’d never do because I’m responsible. Why can’t so-in-so be perfect like me? Oh yeah, we toss words about one another all the time. What’s more, we each act like our own routine is more important than the other person’s routine. We even all act like fools (in our own way) when our routine is interrupted.
How do you manage a house full of people who have no respect for one another and who are prone to acting out? How can we expect those around us to manage their behavior when we ourselves are out of control?
Continue reading ‘Respect – The Broken Vessel’
I recently saw a photo of my aunt posted on her business website. The first thing I noticed is how fragile she appears. She no longer looks big and powerful. She’s no longer the person I remember who had me cowering in the corner. As she held her fist above me all I could see was wood, wood detailing, a wooden door, and wooden floors. When I saw her photo all I saw was an aged woman with bad hair.
My family is made of the strong work horse type. We live forever but we don’t age gracefully. My grandmother is still living. I’ve seen a photo of her. She doesn’t look so strong anymore either. As a matter of fact it looks like if you blow on her she’ll fall over. This isn’t the woman who beat her children with a walking stick. This isn’t the woman I remember who could make my mother a small girl with a word. She too has bad hair.
My other strong genes come from my grandfather who endured poverty, served in 2 wars, survived 3rd degree burns from the waist down then finally lost his life at 87 to his 9th stroke. He’d been through enough. He had nice hair. My greatgrandmother was the “Matriarch of Pain” who finally died at 95 of leukemia which had gone into remission when she was 5 years old. She had pink hair. We have many, many family members who made it to their late 90’s all with really bad hair. So here’s the thing, I know my life isn’t going to be easy. I know I’m going to continue to have major trials and tribulations but I ask, I implore, that I not end up with bad hair.
Continue reading ‘Letters to God’
I heard the news on the 3rd anniversary of my grandfather’s death (today) that the school and orphanage he grew up in is going to close. This is the same orphanage I was taken to year after year as a child and told I’d live there when my mother got tired of me. I think one of the reasons I’m a bit upset about its closing is that I really liked that place. I hoped she’d leave us there.
The building will stand and have military connections but it won’t be the place he grew up in and the place I hoped to be sent. It’s as if a landmark of my life is being knocked down. This is where hope was, this is where I can sometimes go back to in my mind and think of how different it could have been had I lived there. The significance of losing an orphanage with so much of my grandfather’s history and mine feels … well it feels like his life has been erased and the hope I held never existed. I know I’ve taken the closing personally but so much took place there that I loved. To see it go really hurts.
Part of me sees myself losing the imaginary grip I had on being able to reach back into my past, change one thing and get a better outcome. I know I can’t go back and force my mother to send me there like she threatened to. I cannot force her to leave me there after each yearly visit but knowing the building is as I left it somehow soothed me. I guess I was holding on to old bricks hoping for a better home in the future.
Continue reading ‘My Grandfather’s House’
His cholesterol is dangerously high. It might have something to do with eating 2 two-pound containers of cottage cheese a month. It might have something to do with the ham and cheese sandwich he takes for lunch everyday. It might have something to do with the cheese and crackers he snacks on or the broccoli and cheese, potato and cheese soup he eats. It’s the cheese Fife, it’s the cheese. I tried to tell him this and he came back with a proposition.
My immediate reaction was to reject his so called deal siting it’s not a fair trade and that this is about HIM not me. I told him he has children that need him. His daughter is going to need him if her husband doesn’t make it. She’s too young to be a widow, way too young. She’s only twenty six and so is he but he has cancer really bad and it doesn’t look good for him. She doesn’t need to grieve the loss of her father while fearing for her husband. That was how I got him to see how important it is for him to take this seriously. It’s the cheese I told him. His doctor told him the same thing. So he said to me,
I’ll give up cheese if you give up smoking.
Damn you Fife, damn you!….but you’re on!
Yesterday I apologized to my body for eating two cony dogs with a total of 80 grams of cholesterol. I guess I didn’t feel too bad about it cause tonight I had the same thing for dinner. At least this time I had water instead of a huge glass of Kool-aide. I’ll do better tomorrow.
J of A
Way, way back when I worked at the local University I did so in an office with a well known professor of Women’s Studies. I was proud to work along side the doctor. It did not escape me that doing so would look great on my résumé so I was resigned to do my very best. It was an opportunity I didn’t intend to squander. With the doctor I accepted any and all invitations to lunch. We laughed and chatted, but mostly debated about why I refused to enroll at that University. I had other plans and a purpose which that school did not serve. My future was often the topic of lunch.
Continue reading ‘Random Memory: Out of the Mouth of Babes’
(This is my random Friday entry which is a bit late)
As strange as it may seem, it was hard to come up with a list of things I needed and wanted as a child without tossing in the fairy tail view of what a child wants or the Dr. Spock version of what a child needs. It was difficult to individualize wants and needs. If you asked me what “a child” wants and needs I could list 100 or more but individualizing the list is more difficult. These are in no specific order. The last list has 2 entries with an (*) in the front. They were things I wanted but didn’t get, however, they in themselves are not forms of abuse.
Things I had as a child:
- Pentax K-1000 camera and a large selection of attachments
- A Jukebox with flashing lights, red, green and yellow
- A red unicycle
- A red robot TV and radio combo
- Large Telescope and a microscope
- Discovery card subscription for animals and space
- A magazine subscription to Photography Today
- My own bank account
- Shopping trips and out of town stays
- Encyclopedia Britannica and World Encyclopedia sets
Continue reading ‘Random: Wishes, Wants and Needs’
In therapy we talked about how my mother spent a lot of time making sure I wasn’t seen a human. We talked about how she used the ideas behind the concentration camps to strip her children of identity. This stripping had a two fold purpose. It made us feel like nothing and broke our spirit. It let her see us as nothing which allowed her to do the things she did. If she could dehumanize me and keep my spirits broken she could hurt me and live with herself. It was a way of controlling me while letting her let go of her conscience. It was an incredibly hard session. When I left my skin was crawling.
I got into my cab and came home. When I walked in the door I was greeted with a question. “Are you hungry?” I sat my bag down and walked into the kitchen. While I was gone Fife Senior baked a small turkey, made dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh yams, cranberry sauce and a small pecan pie. What of veggies? None. He said he’s allowed to skip veggies at least once per year. “Three starches, oh yeah!” He looked like a big kid getting away with something. Continue reading ‘Someone’s Daughter’
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