At 4:30 in the morning; looking across my desk I see a mother and father, a smiling baby in a lace dress held upright by a lace pillow and a a second grader with bangs and no smile.
In my memory I see a wife and mother, a battered woman, a waitress, a baker, a cook; a college graduate.
In my heart I see a grandmother full of love, kindness, and hope for the future.
In reality, I see nothing.
I have not had a drop of alcohol in many years. It holds no siren call to me. I drink water and if I am feeling the need for libation of any kind, tea will do. Occasionally I do crave a soda pop, but even that is very rarely. So, that having been said, why did I wake up at 4:25 AM remembering the siren call of alcohol? Why were my first thoughts this morning a memory of waking up in a dry bathtub, fully clothed and covered in vomit from the night before? How many years ago was that?!? Apparently, the fun I had transitioning from teenager to young adulthood is a memory I shall never live long enough to neither clearly remember or forget.
When I was 16 I wanted to be a missionary and save the souls of naked natives in Africa, but by the time I reached 18 I had changed my goal from saving souls to drinking the brewery dry. I had a friend whose dad made home brew and she and I relieved him of a lot of his product when he was not looking. I think he blamed it on his wife, but it is a little late now to apologize for that little fiasco.
I remember very little of my Junior year in high school and even less of the Senior year. I showed up for class pictures and ordered my class ring (which I promptly lost) and that was about it.
Now, there were boys who subscribed to the theory that "candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker." Those little fellows never reckoned with me, did they? Beer made me mean and hard liquor made me meaner. Of course, either one was going to make me throw up! Nothing turns a guy off like some broad barfing which was the one thing that got me through my high school years with my virtue intact. The last time I was drunk was when my brother came home from the Army and he bought a fifth of rot gut whiskey for three dollars and some change. We washed that down with red Koolaid. And the rest is history. I threw up for 3 days and swore off liquor for the rest of my life. Red Koolaid is never found in my house. And I am pretty much still abstinent. Lips of wine will never touch mine!
So let's get back to the subject. Why, all these years later, are the memories of booze so clear in my mind? I can not remember what I got in the car and drove to the store to purchase, but I can remember how drunk and sick I was lo' those many years ago. Now I suppose a psychologist would say I was secretly wanting a drink, but I am pretty sure that is not it, because I could drive to the liquor store which is one mile away and buy a bottle if I chose. But, no, I drink tea. And water. Sometimes chocolate milk. And of course, coffee.
So, it is now 5:30 AM and I am winding up this entry. I will have another cup of coffee and get ready to start my day. Not sure what today will bring, but I am sure I will be stone assed sober for whatever it is that happens. There are things in my life that are "givens". That means "it goes without saying." I will not drink liquor today. No red Koolaid either. No cooked apples. For the most part, my life is good. I miss my kids, but so be it. Some day!
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!
turn around she's a young girl, going out of the door. click here How fast the years go by!
Seems like when I think back over my life the highlights run together in a blur. First I was the young girl running out the door with the love of my life and then I was running back through that same door with 5 kids in tow because my life did not play out as I had envisioned it.
Then I was running out that same door with the new love of my life and heading West to Colorado. The kids grew up and moved away, but life went on. Now, as life slowly plays out before my eyes reality is a whole new concept. When I was young, I grabbed life with both hands and hung on for dear life! And what a ride it was! At the age of 30 I had been through 3 husbands and was on my way to life in Colorado with husband number 3 who would also be number 4. A 2 month stint with husband number 5 and on to number 6. That was Kenny and when I said "till death do us part" I actually meant it. We were married in 1983 after one year of living in sin. He died in 2003.
I have lived here in this house alone since then. I have male friends, but not any that I would have given up this life for. My hospice work led me to one man who asked me to marry him because he had no one to leave his worldly goods. We worked out an agreement whereby I inherited everything and dispersed it all to needy recipients. That was kind of fun.
There was one guy I hiked with so I would not have to go alone, but he was a bit of a jerk, so that never went any where. I am honest and I expect honesty in return. Compassionate to a fault.
I have been an activist. I have been a pacifist. I have helped people cross over in my work with Hospice in the Eleventh Hour program. I have fed the homeless. I have rescued animals. But the important part is I have been true to me.
I have loved and lost, but I have survived! And I will go on surviving, because the German blood that runs through my veins dictates that I survive. And the blood of my great grandmother makes me take care of people.
And my old mother goose lets me pet her sometimes! Who can ask for anything more?
I woke up this morning, stretched and began thinking. I have been in this house at this address for 40 years. That is half of my life! How sad that we live our lives one day at a time and then one day realize that what we see in the rear view mirror is our life slipping away!
What happened to that little skinny girl on Strong Street who wanted to be a missionary? When did the dreams of working with the natives in Africa and teaching them about taking care of each other and learning about Jesus Christ turn into having a baby every year? How did I become a mother and grandmother in the twinkling of an eye? When did I actually set my course on Colorado and watch Kansas recede in my rear view mirror?
There were six of us kids growing up. Now there is just Donna and I. I think back to family dinners with aunts and uncles and cousins. I used to have grandmas and all that. Sadly even my friend list is dwindling. Slowly, slowly and one by one, my friends are slipping from sight. Family? What is family and where is family? I have 2 kids in Pueblo, 1 in Texas and 3 in Kansas. Friends? Probably the friends I had back in Kansas are mostly pushing up daisies! Evelyn is still there. Vi moved to Missouri and I never hear from her any more so who knows. Last time we talked she waved the trump banner in front of my liberal face and laughed. Fatal mistake.
Where was I going with this? Oh, the fact that I have spent more years in this house then anywhere else in the whole world! When mother was alive she used to send me the obituaries of people I had known. I dutifully dropped them into a desk drawer. Then I bundled them up and moved them to a bigger drawer. Then the drawer was emptied into a cardboard box and put on a shelf in the closet. The pile continues to grow and my memory is beginning to fade. Names that were at one time so very important to me are now just words on a piece of yellowed paper. The heart that used to hurt when I thought of my losses is now numb.
Soon I will take Kenneth to Imperial and have him interred under his stone. Anthony and Annie are resting on my dresser. Soon I will take them to their new home. Then I will wait for my turn. To everything there is a season, a time to plant and a time to pluck up. A time to laugh and a time to cry. A time to live and a time to die.
Right now it is time to let the geese out. The sun comes up and the sun goes down and I will put one foot in front of the other because that is what we as humans are designed to do. Sometimes some of God's children get impatient and try to rewrite the rules. That never would work for me.
Guess I am just old school.
You do NOT want to live in my head! It is one busy place. Just before 4:00 this morning, my eyes popped open and I lay in my little bed remembering Kenneth. Him and his wife were 2 of the people I first met when Charlie brought me to Pueblo. That was in 1972. I would divorce Charlie, strike out on my own, get a college degree and briefly wed again over the next 10 years. So to make a long story short, Kenneth and his wife divorced, she remarried and Kenneth and I started dating. We were both looking for stability and we found it. I had been through the mill enough to know that men have a way of changing after the ring slides over that third finger, so I was slow to commit. We came to an agreement. We would live together for one year and if we survived that, we would marry.
So, we found a house and Kenneth, my son and daughter and I moved into it. Seems like that was in the Spring. That fall the fair came as it did every year. I have never been a big fair goer, but Kenneth liked the livestock, especially the pigs. His brother raised pigs for 4H. I digress. Kenneth was reading the paper and was aghast to find the the first prize in the fine arts building had gone to someone who had made a display from "feminine products". His little mind could not let that go unseen.
Now this may not seem like much to you in this day and age, but to him it was a very big deal. He could not believe that such a display actually existed AND that it was open to the public. See, we are dealing with a man who had never even changed a babies diaper let alone had any idea what "feminine hygiene" actually entailed. It was a mystery that happened once a month and if it did not happen, it meant he was going to be a daddy.
So off we went to the Colorado State Fair. I had tea towels that had won a blue ribbon that year, so we stopped in that building first. Next stop, Fine Arts. We entered and looked at paintings, photography, and all kinds of stuff and finally reached the piece we sought! I swear his eyes actually bugged out of his head! There it was in the center of the room. It consisted of StayFree Maxipads sewn into a sleeping bag. Above it suspended and spread to cover it was a "mosquito net" made of Tampax tied to the net. It did not take him long to see enough of that!
My little ruddy faced farmer had seen enough! "Let's just get the hell out of here before someone sees us!" And that is just what we did! We lived together another 20 years after that before he passed to his reward. He has been gone for 20 years now but I will never forget the one and only trip we made to the Colorado State Fair. In later years we actually laughed about it.
Times have changed. What was once taboo is now advertised on television, billboards and every magazine you pick up and read. They do not make men like my Kenneth anymore. That is kind of sad. He used to read Playboy "for the articles". The secrets men and women learned together in the bedroom after the wedding are in your face all day and night on television. Playboy has lost its mystic.
As I get closer to the goal of vaulting out of here and landing on the streets of gold high above, I look back at my ruddy faced little farmer and smile. I would not trade one minute of my past for a whole bucket of tomorrows! Mother always said we are all made of our memories and you should know, I have made a lot of memories!
And all my memories are good!
This is nothing new. When I weighed 98 pounds, I had a 29 inch waist. Since then I have gained 40 pounds and my waist is 36 inches. An hour glass figure was always something I longed for, but never achieved back in my younger days. Mother was always the practical one. She dismissed it as "So?" That did not seem to help much.
As I inch my way toward being an "octogenarian", I think I have finally come to grips with the fact that it really doesn't matter anymore. Back in high school it seemed to matter. Barbara was 36-24-36. The rest of the girls were similar, but found it amusing that I was 32-29-34. While they weighed in at higher numbers, I tipped the scales at 89 pounds. The boys found them fascinating; they found me strange. The "in girls" tittered when the boys entered our realm. While the girls seemed to accept me as I was, the boys were looking for boobs.
Irene had huge ones so she was a real hit. Martha found boys stupid and she would rather play the piano. I found boys strange creatures. Then there was that the phenomenon of the changing voice that boys had to contend with that proved embarrassing to them! One would be talking in a normal voice and then out would come a word in his little boy voice. We would always laugh, but I am sure it was hard on them as the "tiny boobs" thing was to me. Kids are cruel.
I started my high school years living with my grandmother and great grandmother, so by the time I got back to Nickerson, I entered high school as a Sophomore. My class mates from grade school had new friends and I was the outsider. We had a larger curriculum, and the teachers expected us to actually do our home work AND turn it in at the end of class or beginning if it was something we did at night. I had a Speech class and it was always torture for me to stand in front of a room full of people and "defend my viewpoint" on one subject or another. Algebra was like a foreign concept. History was boring. Chemistry was an accident waiting to happen in a beaker on my table. So I started skipping class in my Junior year and by my Senior year I was a secret drinker. I never graduated. I did, later in life get my GED and went to Business College where I graduated Magna cum laude which helped not one iota in the restaurant business since I was a cook or waitress and not the owner.
I have 5 kids and my body has changed, but the hour glass figure that I so longed for is still not a reality. I have developed a personality of sorts so, that is good. At least I have friends.
So I guess the moral of this blog is "God don't make junk!" It is not what is on the outside that matters. He will judge me by the content of my heart and the deeds I have done.
I sure hope that is how it happens, cause life sure does get tediuos!
I woke up this morning with the remnants of a poem in my mind. I think it has already been written, but I can not find it nor recall the words. It has been in my mind as long as I can remember, so if it rings a bell with anyone, let me know. To me it has always been the epitome of the way a perfect relationship should be.
I do not want to walk ahead of you, because you may not follow.
I do not want to walk behind you, because I may not follow.
I want to walk beside you, beneath your arm where I am protected and near your heart where I am loved.
Country music singers and song writers have been writing the perfect love songs for as long as I can remember. Garth Brooks and his "The Dance" pretty well sums up the loving and losing. And then there is this by John Michael Montgomery click here. Growing up in Nickerson was conducive to wanting a better life. And along with the better life was always the thought of a perfect husband. We all know how that went! A husband should never be a "destination" in life. I always pictured a husband as an equal partner.
When I embarked on my first marriage I was full of hope. I think he was also, but hope for what I was never sure. I wanted security and a man to love and fulfill me. That did not end up well for me, but I chalked it up to a life lesson and moved on. By the time I reached Colorado my kids were pretty well on the paths they would take and I was pretty well set in my ways. When Kenny and I married it was clear that we were soon to be entering into the sunset of our lives. We would grow old, retire and die. One of us succeeded in that, but one of us did not.
So here I set. Kenny has been gone 20 years. I have had a couple male friends, but nothing romantic. It seems that my place in their lives was to help them cross the bar. I know I did it right with Sherman, because I saw the look of contentment on his face when he took his final breathe. The other was different. I know I held a special place and I was very sad when it was over, but I do so hope that he found the peace he sought.
So anyway. This is not a good way to start the day, but it is what it is. I shall put one foot in front of the other and follow where life leads me. Maybe it will be a good day. I can always hope!
Peace and sunshine and if that poem up there strikes a chord and you remember seeing it some where, hit me up!
