Category: Dad

  • When I was little things seemed a lot bigger…but my world was actually rather small.

    When I was little things seemed a lot bigger…but my world was actually rather small.

    I have moved to different places to live so many times, I’ve lost count. I would need a spreadsheet to categorize how many places I have lived, when, and likely, there will be a few more before I leave the planet.

    As I have gotten older, and wanted to see if places I have lived still look the same, I have gone into “Google Maps” and located the place my parents were living when I was born. We drove by this old house back in the fall of 2020, so that I could see if it was still there. It was. It was built just after WWII ended, and was a “GI” house – made in the tradition of using cinder-blocks on a slab, then putting the siding up – probably some insulation, and coated paper underneath… I remember it being light color. Likely, over the years, people have updated it and so it looks a bit different from what I remember.

    In my earliest memory, from when we lived in this house, it was of my bedroom, and of the living room-dining room and kitchen. I sort of remember my parents’ room. I remember it had two bedrooms, and small-ish. Of course to little me, it was a lot larger than this picture shows, which is the actual size of the house.

    This is the back yard. Another one of my earliest memories was going out back, to play in the water hose, which I did in the summer because it was West Texas and it was hot as hell. There was a frog, probably attracted to the water, and I guess I didn’t see it, but I stepped on it – squished it – and it bled – and I got very upset and started screaming and crying.

    Another memory is of me being with my Dad, around his workshop – the building to the left in the photo above – he always gave me blocks of wood to play with, probably so I would not get in his way or get hurt. There were lots of loud noises coming from his wood working tools in the workshop. He was a maker.

    Dad’s workshop – what’s left of it
    Very little me with my Dad. I didn’t get into much trouble back then.
    I was a Daddy’s girl – and in this shot, I’m not sure who was taking the picture, but Dad looks dubious…

    I am pretty sure I was a “mostly happy” kid until I we moved and I left my safety net – my grandparents

    I remember spending a lot of time parked at my grandparents’ house. I loved being with my grandmother. She taught me how to do a lot of things like cooking, baking, sewing, and playing cards and other games. She was from Kentucky, and carried many traditions from her home state such as recipes and her idea of decorum and etiquette. She had been to “finishing school” after high school graduation, which was in Boston. Her dad was a merchant of “fine goods”. He passed away when my Mom was a little kid.

    However, my great-grandmother, remarkably, I do remember, as she came to live with my grandparents, and did until she passed away, when I was almost two. She was kind to me, and seemed just very fragile and old, which actually, she wasn’t that old – but maybe since she had health issues, it just seemed that way. I was just turning two years old when she died. It’s amazing to me that I have memories of that time.

    My great-grandmother, Mom, me, and my grandmother when I was about one-and-a-half years old

    I remember sitting with her outside in my grandparents’ back yard, swinging in a hammock. That was one of my favorite things to do at my grandparents’ house when I was small. Where they lived in west Texas, it was pretty dry and

    Back at our house, I usually played by myself. I was an only child, so if we didn’t have one of my Mom’s friends with their kids at our house, it was me, myself and I. I remember that I had an “imaginary friend” that came into my life pretty early – maybe age three or four. Her name was Minnie. Later, another one came into Minnie’s life – Mannie. Minnie and Mannie. They were always up to something that got ME into trouble. Only children with imaginations like mine generally need imaginary friends to share the blame for mischief!

    I also remember deciding one day that I was going to school. I got my crayons, and coloring book, and got myself ready to walk out the front door. My Mom said, “Where are YOU going?” I said , “to school”. She said, “NO YOU ARE NOT!”, and seemed somehow offended. That surprised and upset me. Each day, I saw kids that looked about my age, walking by on the way to school. We lived just a short distance away. In my mind, I must have thought that all it took was for me to get my clothes on, grab my crayons and coloring book, and go out the door to join them.

    So, because Mom was upset and I was crying by then, she got sort of shouty and we got into sort of an argumentative exchange whereby at the end of it I got a whack on the behind and got sent to my room. I look back on that and think, “why was my mom angered by me doing that?” Maybe she thought I was slipping out the door. Maybe it scared her somehow. Maybe she felt a loss of control. Who knows?

    When my kids did things like this, normally, I had to hold in my giggles. I think I would have burst out laughing and thought it was really funny and cute, if one of my kids did that – but with my Mom, you could never predict how she would react. Mom was kind of unpredictable, and kind of scary at times.

    Mom holding me in front of my grandparent’s side entrance in their wonderful back yard

    It was, for me a bit confusing, living with her, not knowing if she would be nice, or mean – and not knowing what I was doing to cause her to be one way or the other. I am still not too sure, looking back, if she felt like I was cramping her style. She was very social, and was working part-time – and likely, me being there at home with her was holding her back or something. She eventually enrolled me in “Miss Harvey’s” which was a pre-school-kindergarten kind of class. I think that I was four by then.

    I remember just ahead of one of my birthday parties, Mom was scurrying around trying to get ready to have people over, including some of the kids that were her friends’ kids that got invited – kids I played with occasionally. I was so excited about the party that I barfed, right in the middle of the kitchen floor! Well, Mom got mad. She spanked me and sent me to my room to wait until the party started. I remember feeling confused, and crying a lot, and my face got all stingy.

    I remember that when my grandmother got there, she came in my room and hugged me, and took me in the bathroom and put a cold wet washcloth on my face. To this day whenever I need to “de-puff” my eyes, or face, or make a headache feel better, I put a cold wet washcloth on it – and remember my grandmother. She always had some way of making things okay.

    We moved out of that house to another house just before I started first grade. We next lived in my grandparents house, because they decided to move back to New Mexico. That was the beginning of my next chapter. I loved living at my grandparents house because it had all these cool places to play and great trees to climb. That one, shown below, was at the time, to me, a really big house. It probably isn’t that large, but it had a great yard and lots of space in the house to play and get into trouble!

    Tree I climbed when I was a little kid.
    Now the yard is fenced across what used to be open – that was a great yard and place to play when I was little and later on, a place to take a nap in the hammock or read a book in the shade, when I visited my grandparents before they moved away from this place.

    Moving to the big city almost two days drive away was quite the change. My Mom had to adjust to a new set of friends. She also had to figure out how to get around and navigate the city. My Dad worked downtown, and it took him almost an hour to get from our house to his work. It was definitely different from the small town in west Texas where I was born and we had been living since then. My Mom and Dad met there and got married there. My Mom was actually born there, which was interesting. My grandparents moved in and out of that town several times in their lives. Clearly, they loved it and felt it was their anchor in Texas.

    I think about change and how as we move through life, every day has small changes, and then there are some big changes that happen, some unexpectedly.

  • trying to understand this new world

    trying to understand this new world

    I think that it is because it all seemed to happen at once.  The dimensions and facets right now are pretty different from this time a year ago.

    I think that everyone is affected, not just us – but we have “extra stuff” that impacts our lives right now.  I wish it were different.  In as much as we try to get through each day, without me coming completely apart, I feel that I am touching the border of what constitutes the seams, and they are showing their wear right now.  If one aspect were more stable, then I think that the whole of it would not feel like impending doom.

    I grasp for hopeful straws, having a foundation of optimism within myself.  Sometimes I wonder if the foundation is cracking a bit.  I believe that I always relied on looking out and finding something else that was a go-to goal – that had promise of “better” whether it was people, situations, places, or whatever, but something that would change the landscape.  I think that “fresh start” is an apt term, or a “reset”, whereby the foundation was still intact, but some of the things that had gone wonky had been removed or stopped.

    Human beings have a great elasticity that most people would have you believe does not exist.  Some of us have a constitution that enables us to stretch beyond the limits that we ever imagined that we possessed within ourselves.  Some of us do not.

    It is evidenced by genetics, likely, as we are learning that this is the “code” of our existence to be cracked to solve mysteries of our evolution, our capabilities, our vulnerabilities, and everything in between.

    I look back at my family members on both sides of my family.  We had some very strong individuals who faced great challenges, as well as great opportunities to better their lives.  Looking back as far as I can reach, we had those who sailed to be in a better place, escaping what they believed to be untenable.  We had those who once they reached this turf, sought to make their way despite the tough environments and tough tasks ahead, just to survive.  We had those who were victimized by diseases and could not escape death from those.  We had the sturdy, who despite great hardships and change out of their control, figured out how to survive and survive well.  I think we had a great combination of thinkers, some strategic, some tactical, and some who were dreamers, who without those dreams would not have been the entrepreneurs that they became.

    One theme that has emerged, percentage wise, is strength and endurance.  Do not get me wrong – this is not 100% – but more than not, we have not been taken down without holding on as long as possible.  Few suicides exist and there are not too many afflicted with known mental illness.  Neuroses?  Yes, for sure.  Cause-effect stress related illnesses?  Definitely.  But all in all, persistence was one of the character traits, along with tenacity, and care for people – genuine, that underlay the other aspects of character that we have developed over time.

    We had artists, lawyers, business people, teachers, and those who did not fall into any particular category of profession, but had tendencies to those named.  For certain, creativity and lateral thinking were there – as well as those who were outfit to analyze and solve problems.  Who are we?  We are people who by and large cared for our families first.  This is the underlying driver of why we have done what we have done.  Yes, we have the need to feel fulfilled and enjoy a happy life, but we were driven by family survival needs.

    My family on the West side – both West branches – were pioneers.  They moved across large expanses of sea, land, across country borders, even, migrating or homesteading for better opportunities.

    Dangerous ventures, likely, as initially, people came across the oceans, and later, some of this was moving into what was called back then, “Indian Territory” – before Oklahoma and New Mexico became states in the USA.  Into Kansas, as well, which was enabled by the building of the railroads west in the 1800’s.

    Some of them fought in the Civil War, some against their will, some proudly fought for the Union, and I have the papers to show that coming from my great-grandfather.  Some came from England to the US in the 1600’s, before the revolutionary war, working in shipping, out of Massachusetts when it was a grimy, cold place.  Imagining that they lived through the witch hunts and the atmosphere was tough then, like we are seeing now.

    Some of them endured epidemics, losing their husbands and children to these outbreaks of disease – one lost her husband and a child the same day.  After losing my son to Cystic Fibrosis, after 17 plus years, I cannot imagine the pain of that loss.  And it happened to more of her children, having lost a few more of her little ones, to scarlet fever, which was a disease that caused my aunt, my Dad’s sister, to lose nearly all of her hearing capabilities, as she had this as a child.  She grew up with the disability and yet, she became a teacher by profession, having obtained that degree, later on with the same determination that was ingrained – it was a West trait, and likely, my grandmother did not let her disability stop her from participating as much as possible in school, and normal activities.  She coped well.

    My grandmothers both did manage their families, but in greatly different ways.  My grandmother West was very well skilled at living off of the land, fishing, and teaching all three of her children how to do the same.

    My dad could grow things, cook, fish, hunt, fix stuff, build houses and furniture and just about anything else.  He understood tools, systems and materials very well.  He understood land, weather, and could figure just about anything out.  He was a great negotiator.  He was friendly, but he was also suspicious of people who appeared untrustworthy.  He had a deep survival instinct.  He was strong, and he was gentle.  He protected us, and served as our foundation of strength.

    He was good with kids, and he was good with most animals (except for small dogs that chased him when he was approaching land owners in his work).

    Anything that he personally built was strong, and meant to last.  When he passed away, he said, “Take care of your mother”, in some of his last words to me.  At that point, I knew that he was passing the baton to me, because he felt that I could do the job.

    It was interesting and empowering for him to do this.  It was also a great responsibility, and a difficult job, as my mother, who I will discuss later, was strong willed in her own way, and had a complex personality that was difficult to interpret at times, and definitely, taking care of her was a challenge, as she did not want me in that role until much later in the next decade after my dad passed away.

    My dad was reluctant to give up – to lose control.  I saw, as he aged, as he had physical deterioration, that he would approach these with following the doctors’ orders and try to solve and resolve.  The one that eventually got him was congestive heart failure, which has a predicted outcome.  However, he lived to the maximum predicted extent of that outcome, exceeding it by about six months.  That was my dad.

    At the time of his death, he was still refusing to go.  It brings to mind the Dylan Thomas poem, “Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night”.

    About this present situation, my Dad would have been beside himself – he would likely have been very worried, but he would have also become angry and likely, if this happened to him, it would have caused irreparable damage to the relationship as a result.  Worrying was a character trait that I inherited from him, however, I think that I remain open for a forgiveness process, which I do not believe that my dad embraced.  He did hold grudges, some forever.  He never forgot much at all.  Unlike his mother, dementia in any form did not set in with him – he may have had a little temporal confusion, as you do as you age – but he never forgot people, relationship events, or things that happened.  Ever.

    Our personalities, being unique only to us, as we are unique in the combination of what genetic design we inherit.  Plainly, each of us is unique – but each of us has characteristics that can be similar to our parents, our grandparents, and other relatives.  We can see it, feel it or acknowledge it – and people who know you well say, “you sound like….”  or “you remind me of….” or “your grandmother used to have that twinkle in her smile…”  or “you are scowling like your grandfather…”  You get the point, right?

    But there are times in our lives where we “feel” the ominous coming or we “feel” that something is just not right.  Despite the encouragement of people to “just get over it” and let it be, it screams at you – from the center of your gut – in such a loud way, that you cannot ignore it.  I often think that those who are “super-sensitive” might be those who hear voices or see people who are not apparent to the rest of us.  Who knows the mysteries of this half-in-this-world situation of perception?

    But right here right now we have a situation.  Everyone is on pins and needles waiting… and some of us are suspicious that our attention is being diverted from things that are actually going on right under our noses.  I’m not paranoid.  Now I am reading this in the news.  How about this situation up in Fort Worth, Texas, where the lady was arrested for voter fraud – here is her story from the New York Times.  It makes me want to vomit.  Seriously.  Talk about cruel and unusual punishment… this is extreme.  And these people who are now in leadership roles all over our state, they don’t care about people and the greater good – they see that as being “socialist” or something.  They do not recognize that this is based in core values, in our upbringing where our parents are supposed to help us care about our fellow man – as they knew that if dangerous times came upon them, the factions could be more damaging inside the country when facing an outside enemy.  The McCarthy era, in the end, did not yield positive outcomes.  In fact, the issues that came from that were long lasting, and Martin Luther King became a champion of civil rights and equal rights, which have yet to completely be put into place – we are still struggling.  It becomes an open sore that nearly heals, but never quite does.  It leads us down the road of wondering, “are we going to substantially change as a country?”  “Are we going to be broken apart by this?”

    If you think about it, all sorts of issues are touched upon that send big red flares up – a person who cannot speak English well, nor read well enough to fill out complex forms in order to get to vote, and a person whose family brought her to the USA when she was an infant… she has been here since, is married and has several children, and has been working.  She thought she could vote and did not understand that she was not eligible.  Why is this?  People took her application and no one flagged it as potentially problematic years ago.  The communication issues are screaming here.  She does not understand and cannot read well.  Illiteracy is an issue.  Language is an issue.  Yet, no one recognized it until now – because it was not important to anyone at the time.  This could have been stopped before she got to the point of actually voting.  Yet, it did not because people were not focused on this witch hunt.

    This is appearing to look like that type of situation – having both the “witch hunt” and the “McCarthy Era” aspects together, it becomes expensive, damaging, and sends us backwards in our progress.  Who wins from this?  It’s bullshit.  It is people who are bullies, throwing their weight around.  They do not care.  They just want to be “in control” and “in power” and they probably cannot explain to you why, because the self-righteousness is so deeply ingrained – they profess to be Christian, yet they do not know the first things about the teachings of Christ.  It is incredible, but very true across the broad landscape of Christianity in some of the religious sectors of the United States.  Misinterpretation is a dangerous thing, especially when people become zealots in political office.

    Yet in Texas, today demographic statistics point to the population of the state being Hispanic or Latino, 38.8% percent, July 1, 2015, (V 2015) (b) US Department of Commerce Census Bureau Estimates.  What does this mean?  It means that over 1/3 of the population is under-served.  Well, we all know that.

    Look at the Texas Government elected officials:  Planet of the White Guys are the most outspoken and in control.  We have a bad problem here, especially in the rural counties, now empowered to be as racist as they feel, and stomp on anyone who does not look like them in terms of skin color, or from a country that contains people that look like them.  Its the basic animal instinct to be suspicious of “those which are strange”.  Rollback the clock, folks, we are sliding down the slippery slope.  Hold onto your sleds.

    I suppose that for today, we must try to just tend to health and well-being.  The draw to escape is great.  Looking for hope in wrong places is not on the table.  However, looking for hope in places that are good and better, certainly is.  I am going to have to continue to consider this…

    It is February 12, 2017, and we are expecting another record high, in the warmest year on record, to date, in recorded history.  I guess that eventually the unbelievers will have to believe that things are definitely changing…  The storm destruction will be in their faces, and potentially, they will experience something that will convince them.  Science is data collection, interpretation and observation.  Eventually, they will look at it and say, “Wow, it was here all along.  Maybe we should have paid attention.”  Yup.  Maybe they will, maybe they won’t… time will tell.