A Slice of Life: A Lesson Learned In Youth

A Slice of Life

This isn't such an upbeat post but it's my reality and I can't change it. A lesson I learned in my youth was that I couldn't depend on my parents for stability or for help. The example that comes to mind is the year I started junior high school. I had a friend--I thought--and I used to walk to school with her. Another friend of my friend joined us and soon I was odd-one-out. I've always been a little different than most other kids and it wasn't easy for me to make friends. Anyway, these two soon figured out a way to drop me from the group by leaving earlier, going a different route and so on. I was crushed and didn't know what to do. I approached my mother and asked if she could drive me to school as my friends had abandoned me.

My mom turned on me in a fury and yelled at me. Why did I have to bother her with my problems? Didn't I realize that she had enough troubles of her own without me adding mine to them? Guilty and ashamed I crept away and just cried and cried. Later, my mom came back with a change of heart, said she was sorry and that of course she'd drive me to school.

This was a scene that was repeated over and over in my childhood. I never felt I could approach my parents with my worries without getting yelled at and made to feel like I was imposing. After this time, I just learned not to go to them at all anymore and kept everything to myself.

That was something that wasn't exactly reasonable either because I developed panic attacks at age 16. Once again, I had to approach them and ask them to take me to a doctor...and they refused. The kind of doctor I needed was a psychiatrist and that was just too shameful. I suffered with the panic attacks until I was old enough to get a job with benefits and go on my own.

I guess this is making my parents sound cruel and I don't mean to do that. Yes, I was angry with them for not being there for me but on the other hand, they were both deaf, both drinking to excess and while that's not an excuse, they just weren't the people they might have been. Maybe things would have been different if my mother hadn't seemed to have bipolar herself. Maybe things would have been different if they'd had good role models. But...they didn't and so I didn't.

And that is the lesson I learned from my youth.

Update on us: Things are sort of calm now that we are able to pay our mortgage and we don't have to worry so about losing the house. I still feel like a zombie, sort of roaming around aimlessly through the days. I chose to do this prompt to try and help get my writing kick-started again. I don't know if it will work.

We went to lunch with our neighbors Bob and Flo yesterday and that was nice.

Mostly I've been reading or watching TV when we're not running around to the doctors--and loving up the cats. They enjoy it and they'd rather I sit and pet them and pet them than blog anyway I'm sure. :)

Sunday Sundries: A Family Curse

randomness...feed your mind and your blog



This week's questions are book related....
1. Who are your favorite authors? Dean Koontz, Stephen King, Amy Tan, and Diana Gabaldon
2. What are your favorite books? To Kill A Mockingbird, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, The Stand, Odd Thomas, Outlander
3. What kind of books do you tend to read? Sci-fi, Romance, Mystery...etc...? Usually historical fiction or horror
4. Do you prefer to borrow books from the library or buy them? I'd rather buy them and then I can take my time reading them
5. Do you prefer hardcover or paperback? Trade paperbacks
6. What was the last book you read? What are you reading now? I last read Empress Orchid and now I am reading Train Go Sorry
7. Do you read everyday? Yes
8. On average how many books do you read per year? 26
9. Do you belong to any book clubs? Just about all of them. My favorite is Quality Paperback Books
10. Recommend a good book.
I thought Empress Orchid was a good book!



Unconscious Mutterings

I say...and you think...

1. Goodbye :: Hello


2. Cage :: Bird


3. Buddy :: Pal


4. Magic words :: Please


5. Library :: Books


6. Fall in love :: Romance


7. Tense :: Stressed


8. Work! :: Play!


9. Empty :: Full


10. Heat wave :: It's like a

A Slice Of Life

A Family Curse

When I was about 8 years old, we went one summer day to Fire Island with my grandma...and she broke her leg. All the rest of the summer, my mother took care of her. She would leave us on Monday, stay at Grandma's until Friday and then come home for the weekend. My aunt, Mom's sister, took her turn on the weekend. Why they didn't split the week more evenly is a mystery to me but not really a part of this story.

One night Mom woke up with a feeling of dread. She was sleeping on the couch in the living room and from there, she could see into the kitchen and out one of the windows. She saw a light approaching the house through the window and her dread grew. The light came closer and closer and then came through the window, moving through the kitchen and into the living room toward my mother.

Mom said she felt paralyzed. She wanted to scream or jump up and run but she just couldn't. All of a sudden the light turned into the disembodied hand, arm and shoulder of a man wearing a flannel shirt. The hand was closed in a fist, in a threatening way, and it moved more rapidly.

Mom said she felt something explode out of her chest and move to fight the threatening arm. She thought it was her soul. The arm disappeared and Mom could move again. She told everyone all about it the next day but, of course, no one believed her. They all said it was a dream.

I never would have known about it except that she tried to write a letter about it to Jeanne Dixon, the psychic, a few years later--after we'd lost our house on Long Island and were living in Baltimore. I had to ask her about it and she told me about the curse she believed was on the family.

The arm brought the curse and her soul tried to fight it, she explained. She wasn't strong enough, though, and from now on, our family would be haunted by bad things. I believed her! I was less than 12 years old and look at all the bad things that happened to us already: we'd had to move, one grandmother (my father's mother) died, a grandfather (my mother's father) died, my favorite uncle died, we lost our house and our touchstone back to New York, my brother and I were being tormented by the neighborhood kids....the list went on and on.

The years went by and we continued to suffer life's ups and downs. I don't think they were any worse than what other people suffer but on top of all that, my parents were drinking and fighting violently. It seemed they couldn't live with each other and they couldn't live without each other.

Eventually, my brother and I grew up and left home as quickly as we could. I got married and started off happily with my new husband. We had a new car, a new baby and we felt we were making a great start in the world--and then my husband suffered congestive heart failure at age 27 and needed emergency surgery.

"It's the curse," Mom signed to me. "Nothing good will come of us."

I was not interested in curses and hoped to put her off. Why did she think we were cursed anyway? God had no reason to be mad at us and unless she knew something I didn't, someone else hadn't set a curse on us.

"It's your father," she explained. "He did this because he doesn't believe in God."

That was ridiculous.

She told me, "The arm that came toward me that night? I recognized the shirt. It was your father's arm, your father's shirt and he has brought this evil down on all of us."

Superstiticious drivel, right?

Sometimes, though, a primitive part of my brain takes hold lately and whispers to my logical, reasoning side: Look at what happened to Rich. Look at what happened to TB. They were both fine until you got married and then see what happened. And look what's happening to you now.

It gives me the heebie jeebies. I tell myself there IS no curse. God is there and He will provide help and comfort.

But I can't make my primitive brain shut up.

Tuesday Sundries

Ten on Tuesday

10 Ways the World Has Changed Since You’ve Been in School

Boy, this is going to make me feel like a dinosaur, heh.

1. There was no internet to connect us around the world at high speed

2. There's no more cold war...so they say

3. We didn't have microwave ovens. We had to reheat things on the stove

4. Gasoline had lead in it. It cost like $.35 yo!

5. You could smoke a cigarette anywhere you pleased, including at school which had a smokers' section outside

6. There was no war--it had just ended. Now we have another Viet Nam like war going on over in Iraq. Oh wait...I'm supposed to be pointing out differences...:P

7. We played records, not CDs and listened to radios, not iPods

8. We didn't get calculus and physics until college, now students get it in high school

9. We went outside to play for entertainment. There was no video games

10. There were no such thing as cell phones. We had land lines and pay phones and that was it.




Slice of Life Week 8

Getting a Driver's License

Most people get their driver’s licenses when they are in their teens. I was almost 22 when I finally got mine. What took so long?

I’d always felt nervous about driving a car. I couldn’t imagine me steering a big thing like that down the road. Part of that may have come from an early bad experience with a race car ride at an amusement park when I was a ‘tween. I got into this little race car and was supposed to follow the track around and kept crashing into the walls. I couldn’t complete the ride and had to be escorted off the field.

It didn’t help that I never took driver’s ed. The one time I tried to learn how to drive from my father was a disaster from beginning to end. All he did was yell at me and make me so nervous I quit after just a few minutes. I don’t think he wanted me to learn anyway.

I lived in Baltimore City and so I got around fairly well by using the bus system. If need be, I was usually able to bum a ride from one of my friends. As I got older, though, it became more and more of a nuisance to either wait for the bus or impose on my friends and so I contacted the Sears Driving School.

It was great! The car came equipped with two sets of wheels, two brakes and two accelerators. At first, the instructor did most of the driving while I built up my confidence. Finally, one day, the teacher told me that I was doing all the driving and I felt wonderful! We practiced on the highway, on side streets, and out in the country before I finally took my test…and passed. I was officially and legally a driver at last!

Your Ice Cream Personality:

You like to think of yourself as a fairly modest person. And it's true that you don't talk yourself up... but you're also pretty happy with who you are. You are incredibly cautious. You rather miss out on something than make a mistake. No one would ever call you wild... but they would call you responsible. You are a somewhat open minded person, but deep down you're fairly conservative. You don't like trying new things very much. And if you do find something new you like, you stick with it. You tend to have a one track mind. You prefer not to multitask. You can be a big dramatic and over the top sometimes. You are bold in every way

The Ice Cream Personality Test

A Slice of Life: Grandchildren

A Slice of Life
Sometimes when I am playing with Little T, my heart swells with such love and I wonder if this is how my grandmother felt when she was with me. I'm sure it is.

Grandchildren are a true blessing and there is such a special bond between grandparent and child that it's a shame if any long distance has to separate them--as has happened with four of our grandchildren. They live in Tennessee and TB and I miss them so much.

I am not their biological grandparent, but I am their nana of the heart. I love them all for the individuals they are but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't closer to some than others.

The older boys remember their biological "Mom-Mom" and that is a wonderful thing. We can build on our relationship but the fact is that they are older and have already developed interests in other directions. Still I enjoy being with them and doing things with them. My youngest grandson doesn't know me at all and is very shy around me. That hurts a little but the most I can do is just give him some space and let him know I love him without forcing myself on him.

I miss Taylor, my only granddaughter, terribly. She was about 18 months old when TB and I got married and so we grew close to each other--sort of like my grandmother and me. We could enjoy girly things together, dolls and coloring and tea parties.

My closest bond is with my Little T. I held him just hours after he was born and absolutely fell in love with him. Because he has PDD-NOS, I've had to learn the best way to communicate with him. A lot of our play involves giving him lots of language in the hope that he'll process it and give it back eventually. He's come such a long way with all the intervention he's received and he is a joy and a blessing in my life.

Someday I hope to have more grandchildren as my kids grow up and marry.

I've always felt that grandparents are a "soft place to fall" for children; we are non-judgemental and everything they do is wonderful in our eyes. I'm not talking about bad behavior. I'm talking about art and music and playing games. It doesn't matter if the tune is off key or if the colors go out of the lines or if the color choice is unusual.

I love to sing and play pretend games with the kids. Board games are always fun, too, as are card games. There are things we can teach our grandchildren--in a fun way--about life, things that they wouldn't so readily accept from their own parents. I learned most of my manners from my grandmother, helping her set the table and watching her interact with other guests.

One thing my grandmother gave me was a feeling of worth. When I would visit, she'd set out a formal table setting--just like I was the pastor or someone important coming to visit. We would have a simple lunch on her good plates and I'd carefully help her wash and dry them when we were finished. She had me choose books to buy for her little library for us grandkids. I want to do these things for my grandchildren.

And I really think my grandmother loved being a grandma....that was why she was so good at it. I want to be good at it too.

A Slice of Life: Meet the Parents I & II

Meeting the in-laws can be nerve wracking for the first time. Throw a tragedy in on top of that and you have a recipe for a nervous breakdown.

I'd been dating my first husband, Rich, for about six weeks when his parents invited me to come for dinner. I knew it was inspection time and I was very nervous. Not only did I want to make a good impression, I knew they were already leery of me because I was six years older than Rich.

It's funny how that worked out--when I agreed to go on a date with Rich, I assumed he was about 25. He assumed the same thing about me. At the end of the date, Rich asked, "So...exactly how old are you anyway?"

"28."

He took a big gulp. "28?"

"How old are you?" I asked. Three years didn't seem so bad.

"22." It was barely a whisper.

"22!"

"Is that a problem?" He sounded scared it might be.

Well, we were just dating, after all and what was the big deal? He was much more mature than someone 22 years old. I said, "No, is it for you?"

"Not at all," he answered happily.

His parents were totally shocked, though, and worried I was robbing their son's cradle.

Rich and I went to see a movie first, Fantasia> It had been re-released and I loved the movie, the colors and most of all, the music. By the time we arrived at the house, I wasn't so nervous anymore. I put on all my manners and was as charming as I could be.

Rich's parents were cordial and friendly with me. His sister, her fiancee, and younger brother were also there so there were plenty of people to chat with. Afterwards, I helped clear the dishes and talked with Rich's mother a while.

By the time Rich was ready to take me home, I was relieved and exhausted. I was glad it had gone so well.

Almost a week later, I was making dinner for Rich, my cousin Anne, and a couple we were friendly with. We were going to have a night of playing UNO and fellowship. Rich had been working that day but just arrived and was relaxing when the phone rang. Since I was making dinner, Rich offered to answer it.

"Cass, it's my sister," he said in a puzzled tone. "She wants to talk to you."

Huh? Well, I took the phone and his sister said in a fast, low voice, "I couldn't tell him, I just couldn't. Our mother was in a car accident and she died. We need him to come home right away. Do you think you could drive him?"

I just went cold all over. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I also knew that I couldn't let on yet what was going on and so I said okay and hung up.

"What's up?" Rich asked.

His eyes were so blue and trusting. How could I tell him?

So I left it out. I said, "There's been a car accident with your mom. We need to go to your house now."

On the drive to his house, we didn't say much. I squeezed his hand. When we got there, I said in a quavering voice, "There's something I didn't tell you yet."

And Rich sighed heavily and said, "She's dead, isn't she? That's why we're going to the house instand of the hospital."

It was awful. The worst part, though, was when other relatives began to arrive and I was introduced around. To my horror, I heard myself say, "I'm happy to meet you." ARGH! They all seemed to understand.

I spent most of the time in Rich's room, sitting on the floor and cradling his head in my lap. People would come and go talking to Rich and he just seemed to be in a state of shock. He'd been very close to his mother. His father came by several times and looked in at us.

There was no question about me being a member of the family now. It's just so sad that it happened this way.

Now it's almost 20 years later, I'm widowed and about to marry TB. I've been invited to meet his family and I feel just as nervous as I did when I was meeting Rich's family. This time, the issue isn't an age difference: TB and I were born in the same year.

TB and I were both widowed in the same year. I think TB's family was concerned that everything was moving along too fast and that he hadn't had enough time to grieve.

You have to have walked in these shoes to really understand our reasoning. It wasn't that we didn't love Rich and Audrey enough to wait the usual amount of time to mourn. Part of it was that we knew life is short and you never know what is going to happen. The other part is that when you are happily married, there is always a hope of gaining that again. There's no baggage that's usually associated with divorce. TB and I believed our spouses brought us together, too. It all seemed meant to be and we were ready to elope to avoid a lot of fuss, bother, and possible heartache from other members of the families.

This gathering went off smoothly and I felt accepted from the beginning. The only uncomfortable moment was when TB's mom and brother were asking me about being saved. With my answers, though, I felt like I'd passed a test and now I was a member of TB's family.

Instead of dwelling on being nervous, I like to think I'm lucky enough to have gained two wonderful families.

A Slice of Life Sunday#2: Nicknames

I adored my Uncle John, my father's older brother. When I was a little girl, I thought he was the handsomest man I'd ever seen. He walked with a limp, his foot permanently turned to the side. My father said a car ran over my uncle's foot when they were boys. It was one of the things I can count one hand my dad telling me about his childhood.

My Uncle John had a special pet name for me, Cassie-May. May is my middle name and no one had ever used it before. My uncle used to make up silly little songs and he had one with my special nickname in it. I loved to listen to him sing and tell stories.

When he came to visit us on Long Island from the city, he would always wake my brother and me early the next morning. Taking us by the hands we would walk to the grocery store and deli which were at least a half mile away from home. Along the way, he'd entertain us with songs and stories and he'd always sing me my special song. We would buy bagels, rolls, eggs, bacon and donuts and walk back home where he would make us all a big breakfast.

I loved it when he called me Cassie-May. It felt like a loving caress. When I was a little girl like that, I had no idea that my uncle drank so much. I didn't know that he was unhappy and that he often fought with other people. I didn't know why he never married. It seemed like he would make one heck of a wonderful father--but I was glad he didn't because then it was like I had a second dad. I didn't realize he would be so heart broken after my grandmother died that he too would fade away and die.

But you know what? The love never dies and maybe that's why I still remember him so well to this day. I still miss him. I still love him. I can still hear him say Cassie-May and I still can hear him sing me my special song.