In a perfect world.

I have a little grandson who is going to be 4 in February.  In a perfect world he would be my great grandson, but as you all know, this is not a perfect world.  He is very smart, or at least I think so.  My mind does not recall how old my oldest child was when I was divorced and began supporting myself by working 2 and 3 jobs.  The point here is that I never kept the baby books up to date.  I do not remember when any of them started walking, nor what their first words were.  I do not recall when they started stringing words into sentences, nor when they picked up a pencil and wrote.  In a perfect world, I would have done that, but in the reality that was my life, a roof over our heads and food in our tummies far outweighed the baby books.  We all survived.

I had 5 children,  8 grand children, and 11great grand children.  I now have 6 children, 7 grand children and 10 great grand children.  There have been no deaths, just a reshuffling of status.  Kenneth and I adopted one of the grand children, which makes him a child now instead of a grand child.  This also makes his son a grand child instead of a great grand child.  And that , my friends is how I now (at 78 years of age)  have a 3 year old grand son.  And this also brings me to the point of this story.

For privacy sake, I shall call him Little Boy.  Little Boy goes to pre school and is very smart.  My children went to Grandma Bensing who was paid to keep them alive for however many hours I was at work.  Little Boy is 3 1/2 years old and knows his alphabet, his numbers and speaks in sentences.  He spends 2 days and one night with me.  It seems to me, that every week he is growing and maturing into a little old man.  I do not remember how my kids grew.  It seems like they were little and then they were big and then they were gone and I never saw it happen.  I have their school pictures and I remember some of the things they said that surprised me, but I just do not know when it happened.

I remember once when Susie was tiny, they wanted to take her to school for show and tell.

I remember when we had a fluffy puppy and they gave it a bath and when the hair got wet it scared them because "Fluffy's bones are poking out!"

Debbie was always the little mother.  Came from being the oldest, I guess.  I sent her to Church group one Saturday.  It was on the river.  She left the group and walked up to my working place which was about a mile and a half up main street.  They could not find her when it was time to leave.  I received a frantic phone call wanting to know where she was.  At that time she was walking and no one knew where she was.  But I do not remember how old she was.  Probably 10 or so.

I remember Sam carrying on long conversations with the cat.  I remember being at the bank with him one day and he wanted something and I told him I did not have money.
He said "Why are we here?"
"This is where I bank."
"Get some money from here."
"There is no money in here."
"Well what kind of bank is it that has no money?"

Dona and Patty always slept together wrapped in each others arms.  Patty would fall asleep when I brushed her hair.

Sam had a speech impediment and could not make the "h" sound.  This made the teacher think that his father was a hard working man who should be providing for us better because he "did three jobs" instead of "Daddy does tree jobs."

I never missed a program at school, or a conference, or an outing, or a birthday.  I just did not write it down.

So now when Baby Boy does something, I am amazed.  He speaks in sentences.  Wednesday night he counted his toes.  Several times.  He had 10.  I have a pair of skeleton shoes which separates my toes into 4 compartments on each foot, the 2 small toes going in one slot.  He counted my toes.  I had 8.  He counted again and I still had 8.  He counted his.  He had 10.  I finally had to take the shoes off so he could get an accurate count.  Good memory and reasoning skills there.

He likes to eat Chinese so we stop and I order one meal with the fried rice in a separate bowl.  That is all he wants.  His dad is a meat eater; he could care less. My kids ate anything that did not eat them first.

He raked the yard yesterday with the mop.  His dad grew pot in the closet down stairs.

His dad took him fishing and he caught a cat fish.  When Bret asked him why he did not take the fish off the hook, he said, "Because I am too afraid."

It makes me very sad when I look back over my life and see what I missed raising my kids.  I should have had time to write things down, but the time did not come until later in life and now I have to rely on memories.  Most of my memories are shrouded in a cloak of sleep deprivation and running from one job to another.

I only wish I had taken the few moments it required to jot it down, but at that time other things took precedince.  Now it is too late, and when I die the memories will die with me.

And that makes me very sad.

So now what?

I am very naïve.  I have insurance on my car.  Full coverage to be exact.  I never use it.  I just have it.  My son bought an older car second car for 2 reasons.  First they needed an automatic because they needed a car for Amanda to drive since she does not drive a stick.  And his car gets like 13 miles to the gallon.  They live in Florence and he works in Pueblo and goes to the PCC here.

This was all working well and life was looking good until he was leaving work and some yoyo ran a stop sign, broadsided him and spun him head on into a third car.  Bret's car was totaled.  Of course Mr. Yoyo got a ticket.  His insurance called Bret that night and told him they would get him a rental car until they could replace his car.  Medical bills would be taken car of.  Well, here we are on the third week.  No, they do not pay medical.  No rental car has been forth coming and no one seems to want to talk to Bret.

So some one out there should be able to tell us what the next step is.  We called our lawyer, but he is not interested unless there is a big medical bill.  Since the kid HAS to work, and he HAS to go to school he really does not have time to be doctoring.  Life does go on.  And he needs another car that is dependable and gets good gas mileage like the one he had before someone totally ruined it.  I guess I am looking for a voice of experience to tell us what course to take rather then just set here and wish we knew what to do.

Any ideas?

A mind is a terrible thing to waste.

Now those of you who know me also know that most of the time I am the hard, hearted Hannah, the vamp of Savannah, but those of you who know me well, know that I do have a soft side and have been known to tear up at the slightest thing that most people except as every day happenings.  Like this morning.  I had to take Elvira in to the beauty shop early and so was heading west up Abriendo (if Abriendo does indeed run past the library in an east west manner.) when a young girl passed in front of my car.  She was shabbily dressed and pushing a cheap baby stroller which was a resting place for several bags as well as a child of perhaps 9-10 months of age.  I know the homeless shelter is located on that street or the next one over.
The picture is frozen in my mind.  I know she was headed there.  Many things pointed in that direction.  The stroller was not one of the padded ones like most parents we know have.  She was wearing a coat and the baby was wearing a cap that covered its ears.  What struck me most was the baby.  I am sure it was a boy for some reason.  He sat erect in the stroller and clutched the bar to keep himself upright.  He stared straight ahead as if to memorize everything before him.  His mother walked quickly with her head down.  This was no early morning stroll.  It was a mission.  It was as if the baby also knew that he must hang on and not lose his grip lest he cause a problem that would deter them from the job ahead.  They were alone in time and space for that moment with me watching them like a voyeur from some other place.   And my mind went back in time.
I have never been homeless.  I raised 5 kids and worked 2 or three jobs at a time so I would not be homeless.  There were times I wanted to give up, but I never knew who or what to give up to, so I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and marched onward to the drum beat that was in my head.
Would I live my life different if I could live it in reverse?  You bet your sweet ass I would!  I would never have left my first husband and everyone of those 5 kids would have had a college education.  There would not have been a choice given to them, but life can not be lived that way.  My kids have all grown into respectable adults with kids and grand kids of their own.  I have great grands which I guess makes me old.  Ah, but with age comes wisdom.  Or so I hear.
No, with age comes a mind that works overtime.  And speaking of overtime, I wish it just worked like it is supposed to.  I spend a few hours every week with a lady who is older than me and we spend most of our time trying to remember what it was we were talking about.  We have a trove of memories that are in there some where, but not readily recalled.  And then there is that damn overly sensitive side that goes with old age.  I cry when I hear almost any song, but the one that leaves me a sobbing heap is "Seven Spanish Angels" with Willie Nelson and Ray Charles. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0OhbJPrzWc   Course Happy Birthday to you does the same thing.  Abused animal pictures send me into a 3 day depression.  Hell, any animal picture sends me into a whole new realm.
It has been a couple months since I started to write this article and the picture of the mother and son is as fresh in my mind as it was that morning.  So here is the deal, can someone out there tell me why I can remember my social security number, my first phone number, the address of the house I lived in 65 years ago, but I have no idea where in the hell the car keys are, or that I have a doctors appointment?  I set here in my house all day and when someone says, "What did you do today?" I draw a complete blank.  I saw a cook wanted sign the other day and actually talked to someone about the idea of me going to work there.  My God!  If I had to get up and actually go somewhere at the same time every day, it would drive me nuts!  But then when someone asked me what I did I could say, "I worked all day," which would have actually only been 3 hours, but it sounds good.  Back to the subject at hand.
I watch for the mother and baby every time I drive through the Junction, but no signs of them any where.  So I am going to play out my own scenario.  I think they went to Posada and there they got a bus ticket back home.  I think they lived in the south and they are back with her mother and the mother loves her new grandson.  The lady pushing the stroller went to school and got a really good job and they all lived happily ever after.
That is how things work in my head.

How many years ago was that?

I woke up this morning in a black 1949 Ford on my way to Jetmore, Kansas.  One kid in the front seat and 3 more in the back seat.  Going to go see Grandma Seeger.  Jesus!  How many years ago was that?  It must have been about 1968 or 1969.  I was newly separated  and it was my day off so I was trying to keep some sort of continuity in my life.  I had shaken the dust of Garden City, Kansas off my feet and was living in a 2 bedroom rented house near the Reformatory in Hutchinson.    Just off East Sherman but I do not remember the name of the street.  I doubt that it is still standing, because it was barely standing then.

The first thing that happened was when I called to have the gas turned on, they condemned the stove which was the sole heat source for the house.  That had to be fixed, of course.  Probably should have left the gas off as it turned out later to be a thorn in my side.  It was a constant battle to keep the kids from touching it and burning themselves.

I was working nights and sleeping very little.  I had done the laundry and not folded it yet so it was laying on my bed which was located on the back porch.  I set down in the front room for just a minute and fell sound asleep, only to be awoken to cries of "FIRE!"  Shit!  Debbie threw water on me and I was awake instantly!  Seems dear Sammy, turned the kitchen stove on and poked a piece of paper in the flame to see "What would happen?"  He did not want to burn his fingers so he threw the burning paper on my bed full of clothes.  Need I go into detail?  Of course I do.  I immediately began dousing the fire with water and finally had it out and no smoke was coming from it.  To be on the safe side, I drug the mattress into the back yard.  I called a friend of my brothers and he came and hauled it away.  I am not sure the landlord ever knew where his mattress went.

Smith!  That was the name of that street.  That was my baptism by fire into the world of single parent life.  The girl who lived across the street babysat for me.  She also babysat my only pair of jeans I liked. Remember that when I left my husband I weighed 92 pounds so I was considerably thinner than I am now.  Actually, there could be 2 of me now!  She also releived me of my class ring and my wedding rings.  That was also where the kids got ringworm.  Sam filled the gas tank on the Ford with sand.  The old $150 Chevy that I arrived in Hutchinson threw a rod and I bought a 1949 Ford from Jake's friend, Clell.

You must know that back in those days, child support was optional and my husband opted out.  Welfare was there to help single mothers, but if you worked, they did not help you because you had an income.  Since I worked and could see no way to feed us if I quit, I never drew welfare.  No welfare, no alimony, no child support.  I must say part of the child support not coming was my fault.  My husband explained to me, as if I were a couple bricks short of a load, "You wanted the divorce.  I did not.  You have the kids.  I have nothing.  You should be paying me because you took them away from me."  And in my befuddled, insecure little mind, that all made good sense.

After a time the roof began to leak and the landlord would not fix it so my mother let me move into her house over on 5th Street.  That also brought a change of employment and began my career as a cook at the Red Carpet Restuant.  The husband moved to Hutchinson and took a job at Cessna.  We reconciled for a week or so and then he left town because he "just could not do the boring existence thing."  Welcome child number 5 and a tubal ligation!

I dated a radio personality and learned to decorate wedding cakes.  The radio guy turned out to be a real jerk but the cake decorating turned into a fairly lucrative part time job.  I dated a guitar picker and learned how to sing country!  When Christmas time came, his mom gave me 3 pairs of cotton underwear.  Never really got over that and so much like Glen Campbell or Hank Williams, I moved on.  Then  I found out just how good booze could be and it could always be depended on to see me through the rough patches.

And now I dream about those days.  When I was there it was a constant battle and there were times I wondered if I would survive.  There were days and nights when putting one foot in front of the other was the only hope I had.  Just one more day.  One more night.

Got to end this here because I am starting to feel sorry for myself and I do not want to do that.  That is how life becomes unbearable.  Just gotta keep my shoulder to the wheel, my eye on the prize and take it one day at a time.

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