Raised by wolves? Yep, pretty much so!

I think back to when I was raising 5 kids with no child support, no welfare card, no health care and rarely the same baby sitter 2 weeks in a row, and I shudder.  Lucky for me it was back in the day when you could actually leave your house unlocked and went to bed and woke up still alive.  We lived at 217 West 5th in Hutchinson which is now an apartment complex.  It was located across the street from Dillons Supermarket.  5th Street was also Highway 96.  Highway 50 and 96 both run directly to Pueblo, Colorado.  But that is a moot point.  (I just love to say "moot point".)

The kids could walk to school if they were in school at the time.  They went to Allan, as I recall and it was about 4 blocks.   Near the school was a lady named Ferguson who had kids that were mean to my kids.  She watched them after school.  If they were not in school they went to Mrs. Bensing's to be baby sat by  her.  She was the regular babysitter for my day time, 6 days a week job.

To supplement my income I waited tables at the bar on 4th Street.  That was the Dutch Mill.  Back in those days you were allowed to dance in the bars.  Usually there was a juke box, but some times the Mill had live bands.  Oh, those were fun!  I must confess that I did a lot more dancing and not a whole lot of waiting on tables, although since they did not serve food, it was just delivering beer.  Mini skirts were the thing back then and I had pretty legs, so my tips were good.

On the nights I worked I had a lady who came from South Hutch to watch the kids.  She had a car.  I am trying to remember her name!  She was a little short, stout lady and she had a beard.  I swear, more hair on her chin than on her head!  Ida Mae?  Does that sound right?  We will go with that.
Addie Mae was the sweetest little lady.  She was about my height and a little heavier.  She always smiled and never spoke above a whisper.  She always brought a handful of candy.    Always had a secret smile on her face.  The kids were scared shitless of her.

"Is  she was mean?"  "No."
"Does she holler at you?"  "No."
 "What does she do?"  "Nothing."
"Does she give you candy?"  "No."

While at the Red Carpet, I hired the bosses son's wife to babysit and since Allen Ray was in Vietnam, I moved her in with me.  She was pregnant at the time.  That was nice.  When I came home from whatever job I had been to, the house was always clean.  The kids were always quiet and if it was night they were always in bed.  Very well behaved kids.  And then one day I noticed a bruise on Sam's face.  Upon close questioning I determined that she had hit him across the face with a stick she used to paddle all of them with.  I immediately called my boss and told him to get her out of my house before I killed her and proceeded to throw her belongings on the curb so they were easily accessible.  Seems the babies I worked so hard to feed and clothe were being intimidated by (dammit! I forgot her name.  Debbie just called and her name was Janice.)   Bob understood.

Evelyn Decker moved in for a while and between us, we got them up to an age where they were traveling back and forth between their father and me.  They even began to go to school in Garden City and then Lakin.  By that time I was in love again and married and moving to Colorado.  By then Susie was starting kindergarten and was the only child I had at home.  Over the years they took turns living and going to school either in Lakin or out here with me.  Sam is the only one that actually graduated in Pueblo.  Central High, go Wildcats.!  He then attended the University before going to Wichita for his post graduate work.

The years in Hutchinson are mostly a blur.  I do not know whether it was working all the time, or drinking or what, but I am pretty sure I did not earn a "mother of the year" award or the "Susie homemaker award".  I did manage to have all of them survive with no broken bones and no jail time.
Would I do things differently if I could go back?  I sure as hell would.  Momma always said "Hindsight is 100% looking back, foresight: not so much."  I would not have stayed with their father, and I am not sure how I would do it differently, but I would have done something.  The one thing I did learn from those years and the years that followed is this:  "I did the best I could with the tools and knowledge that I had at the time."  My momma told me that.  Momma was very wise! Course Momma is also the one that said my kids were raised by wolves!

Footnote:  I did attend college after Charlie and during Henry and before Kenny.  I received my BA with a 4.0 grade average.  I have a diploma around here some where and it says something about me being an Accountant.  I worked one full time job and one part time job while doing that.  And I drank a lot of Mountain Dew!

Happy Birthday Delbert Leroy Bartholomew!

On your left is Jake, on the right is Josephine and there in the middle is little old me.  I must have been almost a year old there.  See the loaded hayrack in the back?  That means it was harvest and the year was 1942 in the fall, right before my birthday.  Jake and I were born 4 years and 4 days apart.

I do not know how he came to be known as "Jake", but I do not ever remember calling him Delbert.  He was kicked in the face by a horse named "Star" when he was 9 or 10.  I recall when my father brought that horse home one night.  It was late.  It was dark and he was drunk.  And mother was pissed.  In all fairness, Star was not a horse, but a Shetland Pony and Shetland Ponies were mean by nature.  Star nearly kicked the side out of the trailer before he even got unloaded.  

It was just wonderful having a pony!  I say that with the utmost sarcasm, because to the best of my knowledge no one ever rode that pony.  No one ever petted that pony.  We fed him.  We fed him a lot!  I lived in mortal terror of being bit by those big yellow teeth.  I think in the back of my mind I know that Dad was a gambling man as well as a drinking man and he won that horse in a poker game.  Not real sure who the winner was in that deal, but it is what it is and we had a horse from hell for a pet.

I was trying to tell you about my brother and I see I got side tracked.  Life does that to me a LOT.  So, I only had the one brother growing up and it was Jake.  He snuck off to join the Army when he was 16.  He crossed off the date of his birth which was 1937 and wrote in 1935.  Of course, since the recruiting officer was neither blind nor stupid, he took one look at Jake, whose face was covered with peach fuzz since he was not old enough to shave, and called mother.  He did join the Army 2 years later.  He served in Germany.  He came home, fell in love and got married.  Got divorced and got married again.  Got separated and searched for happiness where ever he could find it.

Some where out in this cold cruel world are 2 sons of his.  Mother kept in touch with the oldest and we never heard anything  of the youngest.  That lady moved to Missouri.  I will probably go to my grave not knowing what became of them, but so it goes.  On the day Jake died, my middle daughter, Dona Marie turned 1 year old.  Sam was 26 days old.  That was a dark time in my life and we know how those times affect us later down the road.

On October 29, he and a friend were coming home from work on country roads.  They ran a stop sign and hit the side of a loaded gravel truck on the highway.  I do not know who was driving.  I do not want to know.  I saw him that night in McPherson Hospital.  He was unconscious. He died the next morning.

I like to think I have put my dark times behind me, but I haven't.  Hopefully I am dealing with this better then I used to.  There was a time when October 5th entailed a bottle of whiskey and a beer chaser, but I have not done that for years.  And since I am dealing with my new reality, I am going to look back on his birthday as a cause for celebration.  So here goes:

He was born and he held my hand while I learned to walk.  He taught me to ride a bike.  He hit me in the head with a turnip when I was very small.  He went to the Army and wrote me every week.  He sent me a Brownie Camera from Germany.  We listened to the Grand Ole Opry on a car radio on Saturday nights.  He introduced me to my first husband, the father of my children.  He died, but he never left my thoughts.  

I had a brother.  My life would not have been complete without him and today I celebrate that God gave me the most wonderful brother in the world, Delbert Leroy Bartholomew, known to the rest of the world as "Shakey Jake!"  Some day I will see him again and he will be in that same pair of overalls and hopefully Hank Williams will be picking on his guitar.

If he had lived, what would his life have been?  I know he joined the church just 2 weeks before he died.  I know his friend who was in the truck with him, Johnny Rogers passed away the day after we buried Jake.

Rest in Peace in the arms of Jesus, my beloved!

Happy Birth Day to Samuel Rueben Seeger!!

Many years ago in a land far away, lived a simple woman who dreamed some day she would have a son and she knew she would name him Samuel Rueben.  The first year she had a daughter and named her Debra Louann.  The next year she had a daughter and named her Patricia Lynn.  The third year she had a daughter and named her Dona Marie.  The fourth year she had a son and when she told the sister in the Catholic Hospital in the Catholic town his name was Samuel Rueben they gasped and crossed themselves and told her that could not happen.  Samuel Rueben was a Jewish name and she was a Protestant.  She insisted.  Now you need a little background on this simple creature so here it is....

Back in those days religions were set in stone.  She was not Catholic.  She was not Jewish.  She was not anything in particular, which made her a Protestant.  Back then it mattered.  Her husband came to the hospital to peer at the baby boy through the glass and his work was done.  He would be back to get her in 5 days.  He did not care what it's name was so she was alone in her protestations that the name was Samuel Rueben.  The sisters refused to write the name.  Finally, the day came to leave and the baby had no name.  She knew she had to do something so she named him Earl Edward, but in her heart he was Sam.  They let her go home with the baby now that it had a "proper name."

Her husband was stunned that the baby was not named Samuel Rueben, but Earl was his given name, so he accepted that.  It was 4 months before her mother asked the baby's name.

"What is the baby's name?  I know it is Samuel, but Samuel what?"

"His name is Earl Edward."  And thus came the tear filled confession that she had let the Catholic sisters bully her into naming him something besides Samuel Rueben.

Never was the baby ever called Earl by anyone.  He was called Sam.  It is now 54 years later and he is known in the work place as Sam.  He is known at home as Sam.  He went to school as Sam and Earl Edward is only used on legal papers like wills and such.  He was named after his father who was Earl, but he called him Sam.

You might ask why I did not insist on putting it on his birth certificate, but you would have to have known me back then.  I was a very weak person back then and second guessed everything I did.  I tried to please everyone around me.  I still fight a daily battle to know that I am really worth something in this world.  It is called co-dependency and is a complicated little personality disorder.  I read books on it.  I went to a couple meetings on it.  It is very common in conjunction with living with an alcoholic.  I married 3 alcoholics in rapid succession and divorced them in rapid succession before I decided it was my problem and not theirs.  People who know me now just think I am an overbearing b----, and they may very well be correct.  That is alright.  Some people actually like me!

So there you have it...Another confession from the warped mind of Lou Mercer.  The more I write about things, the more I understand myself.  Hopefully, some day, I will no longer be a work in progress, but will be a normal person with normal wants and needs.  When that day comes, I hope I am no longer afraid of spiders, because I gotta' tell you, that is a big one!

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference."

Welcome to day 3 of the worst month of the year.

I am setting here listening to the fans running in the bathroom where the now defunct washer sets and in the bedroom downstairs where the water eventually stopped.  Last night the washer float stuck.  Since nobody was paying attention, it continued to over flow until Mike went down stairs and found water gushing from the ceiling into his tool box.  That got our attention.

I stood in ankle deep water to unplug the washer and turn off the cold water valve.  Yes, God is good or I would be a fried tomato today.  Now I face a day of dealing with the insurance company and hoping that this can be taken care of in a timely manner.  I want so bad to put the little Laugh Out Loud emoji here, because I do not think "over flowing water" and "the ceiling of the basement" an ever be a good thing.  It would be nice if it would just dry up and go away, but I hear little voices in my head saying "wet dry wall", "black mold" and things like that.  And no where in this scenario do I see the words "timely manner" appear.

But here is the deal, it is what it is.  No way around it.  I just flashed back to my second husband when I used the words "It is what it is".  That hit a chord in his brain that turned him into a raving lunatic, but there in again, "It is what it is."  Back to my dilemma. Today is the day I had planned to freeze my Pueblo Chile so I can have lots of green chile when company comes.  They count on it.  I will see how long the insurance guy takes.

I do have a theory, though.  I think dark thoughts draw bad Karma.  Rather then dwell on how bad October is, I need to concentrate on the good October brings.  First my birthday.  Surely I have made someone happy some where and so rather then railing against my birth, I should actually be celebrating.  Tomorrow is Sam's birthday and while all my kids have been blessings, he is the man child who will take care of me in my old age.  Yes, we will do it that way!  I am not going to be sad, I am going to be happy.

I will deal with my brother's birthday in just a couple days and this year I am going to only find good in it.  Watch for that one on Saturday.  I loved that boy and think of him every day.

Now for good thoughts on the flood of last night.  That damn floor was needing cleaned any way and it got a very good cleaning last night! I used all my towels to soak up the water and now have no washer to wash them in, but it is what it is.  There is a laundromat some where that will welcome my business,

 So I am going to pick up chile's today and deal with the insurance and thank my God above for mopping the floor!

Peace to all!  It is going to be a beautiful day!

And so it begins.

Happy Birthday to me, yesterday.  Just about everybody else my age is dead.  Gives me a lot to look forward to, doesn't it?  Those of you who follow my blog have probably figured out that I have a small problem with depression.  Not many people in my everyday world have figured that out.  This week marks my birthday, my only surviving brother in law's birthday, my son's birthday and ends on the 5th with my brother's birthday.  My brother has been gone 54 years.  I still remember it like it was yesterday.  It never gets better.

I remember the day I married my first husband (October 30)  and my last husband (December 23).  I remember the date the last husband passed but not the first one.  I have a mental block about a lot of things and that is probably the only thing that actually saves my sanity.  I just know I hate the whole month of October.  Unlike a lot of people, I tend to grieve inwardly so nobody knows.  I may be talking to you about the most mundane thing in the world and I am smiling, but I am seeing Jake standing in front of me with his lopsided grin and the scar on his right cheek.  I am hearing Hank Williams wailing in the background.  WSM from Nashville every Saturday night. It never goes away.

I realize blogs like this make my kids sad, because I am sad, but what they need to remember is this is my past.  I was not always their mother.  I have to deal with this on a daily basis.  I do not want sympathy, I just want understanding.  I will be alright.  Where there is life there is hope.  I do not need to go out and eat.  I do not need flowers, I just need my time.  This will pass.  It always does.

This month, I am undertaking a new kind of volunteer work.  It is not like Hospice where every client ends up dying.  It is one that involves dealing with people who are actually trying to get off the streets and into a home of their own.  I am not sure where this path will lead me, but I am going to go slow and find out.  Usually I jump in with both feet and tilt at windmills, but not this time.  Someone will lead and I will follow.

So, as I deal with my demons this month, be patient with me.  I have a theory that God is not through shaping me yet and I am sure of one thing:  God knows what he is doing and he is going to bring me out on the other side a lot better person than I was before.

He has a way of doing that, you know!

It is time to talk about that damn cell phone.

"And God saw the earth, that it was good.  And he created man...." and had it stopped there, we could have all lived happily ever after, but he did not.  He gave us a brain and free will.  And the cell phone!  And he did it pretty much in that order.

I remember back before Strong Street in Nickerson, we lived in a little 4 room house on a road with no name in the Ailmore house.  It was a little square house with a combination living/dining room, kitchen, and 2 bedrooms.  Dad always had his own room and us kids slept like little sardines in iron frame beds with cotton stuffed mattresses and covered up with wool blankets.  It was during World War II I am thinking.  The floors were wooden planks.  No linoleum for us.  I went out the back door and into the pump house to take turns with Jake pumping water for the old cow who gave us milk.  The outhouse was off to the left of that.  I am not sure it had a door, but that is not relevant to this story.  I am hear to tell you about the Lord inventing cell phones and how it has changed my life.

We had a wooden box phone on the wall and I wished to hell I had it today.  I could sell it and retire.  The point here is if some one wanted to talk to us they picked up the receiver and Mrs. Humphrey (and that was her name) said "Number please."  You told her the number and she plugged your cord into the number you wanted.  Lines were crackly, but you were connected.  Over the years this has changed and we now poke in the number we want and the connection is made.  Not  good enough.

We now have "cell phones".  These things have evolved until every one is now connected with a "smart phone."  We can call any where to any where else on our smart phones.  We can speak into the belly of the smart phone and send a text message.  Or make a reservation on a plane to nowhere.  Or set an alarm to wake us up in 7 minutes.  Or watch a movie.  Or listen to music.  Get direction to some obscure place.  Well, maybe you can.  Me, not so much!

I can find the button to turn mine on.  I have yet to find the button to turn it off.  Or the volume key, so I can hear it ring.  I can see a tiny little thing flashing and some one said, "Oh, you have a message."  Well that message shall die with the phone.  I can not see the tiny little icons well enough to decipher what they are without my glasses and by the time I find my glasses the screen has safely hidden itself and  God only knows where.  When it rings, I think it is my stomach growling because I can not hear it.  Well, unless I am in church or some place quiet and then that sucker can make a sound like a tug boat in a foggy bay.

My house phone has now been relegated to the humble job of finding the damn cell phone so I can put it in my purse where in can flash and carry one like a new puppy in a field of daisies.  I call it and if it is turned on and I can actually hear it ring I can then see the message "8 missed calls."  With luck I can find the "missed call list" and find out the 8 calls were me looking for the damn phone.  You know I would throw the damn thing in the river if I thought it would stay there, but it has a life of it's own.

And now it is almost 5 o'clock in the morning and I just realized I do not know where that evil little piece of plastic is located.  I like to think I don't care, but what if I missed a call?  What if someone wanted to actually talk to me?  What if someone needed ME! So, I am going to go see if I can find it and turn it off.  That is assuming I know how to do that and that it will let me!

Have a good day!

Lou Mercer Words of Wisdom: It is time to talk about ghosts.

Lou Mercer Words of Wisdom: It is time to talk about ghosts.: I have been kicking dirt around this planet for over 7 decades now (assuming a decade is 10 years.)  I have seen many things and been many ...