Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.
I remember dad driving onto the Children's home property. It was a bright sunny day. There was beautiful manicured green grass at least 5 acres, sidewalks, trees, a large parking lot and this huge huge brick building. I thought this surely must be a castle. I counted four levels of windows, probably four floors and at least a city block long looking at the front of the building. Where we came from a block usually had eight to ten houses with yards down each side of the street. I remember the three of us walking into this sunlit atrium that was the entrance and walking up two flights of stairs. It seemed the floor and stairs were made from marble they were so shiny and I could make my heels click as we walked across the entrance. Everything looked so pretty. We met with Father M. I immediately liked him, he reminded me of my grandfather and had the kindest eyes I had ever seen besides my dad's. Thinking back, although my brother and I were anxious, it must have been extremely hard on dad to leave us there. He promised he would return in two weeks to visit us. Dad came every two weeks for five years and brought two large grocery boxes one for each of us, that contained apples & oranges, candies, cookies and candy bars, every time he came. Didn't matter what the weather was or road conditions our dad was at that children's home every two weeks. He came on Saturday morning and would leave Sunday afternoon.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Happy Birthday Son
Today is my son's 28th birthday. My son, daughter and granddaughter are at the top on my list of best things ever. Actually I've alot of wonderful things happen in my life. Today I want to wish him Happy Birthday and wish he were here to celebrate it. February is a wonderful month; my granddaughter was born 2/14/06, my son 2/18 and my birthday is 2/20.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Hither and yon
No one is in charge of your happiness, except you.
I think sometime before I was in first grade I remember my dad and mother having a horrendous fight. My dad was a very quiet, gentle man. This one time however my dad was beyond mad. I don't remember what had happened and perhaps I never really did know. Dad came home and was very very angry, yelled and actually hit my mother. I can remember screaming NO! Daddy, NO! They were both on the floor yelling and hitting each other. After that dad, left, and mother went to work as a waitress. I can remember being shuffled off to a different friend's house about every week. It was so common I stopped asking where we were going. My brother and I just accepted going to a different house every night as the normal course of events. I don't remember seeing much of my mother during the time she had us. At some point my mother realized she could not take care of us, work and drink too, so she gave full custody of my brother and me to our dad. He didn't know what to do with two little kids, an eight year old and 4 year old. He asked around and there were friends that wanted to adopt us, dad wasn't interested in that and I was glad. Our aunt and uncle said they would take me, but could not take my brother (they already had six children). Dad didn't want to split my brother and I up. So he found St.Joseph's Orphanage.
I think sometime before I was in first grade I remember my dad and mother having a horrendous fight. My dad was a very quiet, gentle man. This one time however my dad was beyond mad. I don't remember what had happened and perhaps I never really did know. Dad came home and was very very angry, yelled and actually hit my mother. I can remember screaming NO! Daddy, NO! They were both on the floor yelling and hitting each other. After that dad, left, and mother went to work as a waitress. I can remember being shuffled off to a different friend's house about every week. It was so common I stopped asking where we were going. My brother and I just accepted going to a different house every night as the normal course of events. I don't remember seeing much of my mother during the time she had us. At some point my mother realized she could not take care of us, work and drink too, so she gave full custody of my brother and me to our dad. He didn't know what to do with two little kids, an eight year old and 4 year old. He asked around and there were friends that wanted to adopt us, dad wasn't interested in that and I was glad. Our aunt and uncle said they would take me, but could not take my brother (they already had six children). Dad didn't want to split my brother and I up. So he found St.Joseph's Orphanage.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Hide the bottle
How ever good or bad a situation is, it will change.
One of the few memories I have as a toddler was the time I hid my mother's whiskey bottle from her. I remember I did not like when my mother drank and I watched where she stored her bottle. It was way up high above the kitchen sink. One afternoon she was not watching me, I don't know where she was at the time. I decided if I hid the bottle then she wouldn't drink. I was too short to reach the kitchen counter so I pulled one of the kitchen chairs over to the counter, crawled up onto the chair and then managed to pull myself up onto the counter top. From there I opened the kitchen cabinet doors and scaled the shelves. When I got up as high as I could go I reached over and opened the cabinet above the kitchen sink. As I hung onto the cabinet door with one hand I reached over with the other hand and grasped the whiskey bottle. I then closed the cabinet and some how managed to climb down the kitchen shelves, close those doors, drop to the counter top without dropping the bottle. From there I got down onto the kitchen chair and climbed down to the floor and pushed the kitchen chair back where it belonged. I then took the bottle outside and buried it deep in my sand box. I felt such a sense of accomplishment, however short lived. Wasn't too long before my mother went to get her bottle and soon figured out who the culprit was. She asked me where the bottle was and made me go and get it.
One of the few memories I have as a toddler was the time I hid my mother's whiskey bottle from her. I remember I did not like when my mother drank and I watched where she stored her bottle. It was way up high above the kitchen sink. One afternoon she was not watching me, I don't know where she was at the time. I decided if I hid the bottle then she wouldn't drink. I was too short to reach the kitchen counter so I pulled one of the kitchen chairs over to the counter, crawled up onto the chair and then managed to pull myself up onto the counter top. From there I opened the kitchen cabinet doors and scaled the shelves. When I got up as high as I could go I reached over and opened the cabinet above the kitchen sink. As I hung onto the cabinet door with one hand I reached over with the other hand and grasped the whiskey bottle. I then closed the cabinet and some how managed to climb down the kitchen shelves, close those doors, drop to the counter top without dropping the bottle. From there I got down onto the kitchen chair and climbed down to the floor and pushed the kitchen chair back where it belonged. I then took the bottle outside and buried it deep in my sand box. I felt such a sense of accomplishment, however short lived. Wasn't too long before my mother went to get her bottle and soon figured out who the culprit was. She asked me where the bottle was and made me go and get it.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Sad time
This is a sad time for my family. My older brother passed away this morning. He was 66 years old and suffered from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease and emphysema. He will be greatly missed by his wife, daughter, sister, brother and several cousins. He served 20 years in the Navy on submarines, was a devoted husband and father. He was preceded in death by his mother, father and a brother. He had a strong sense of family and was a kind man. He seldom complained about anything and even if things were not going well he would always say "can't complain". He will be greatly missed.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Hot Spoon
"Be kinder than you need to be because everyone everyone you meet is fighting some kind of a battle."
As an adult and new mother I was puzzled that my mother would call me long distance (she lived in another state) and tell me that my baby was malnourished and that I needed to get her to the doctor. My baby was in the 90th percentile for height, weight and motor skills. I took her to every well baby appointment and she was a good eater.
When I related this puzzling conversation to my aunt ( on my dad's side) she paused as if she wanted to tell me something. Finally she told me of the time my mother had severely burnt my mouth with a hot spoon to the point she could not get me to eat. The pediatrician had told my mother I was malnourished and she needed to get some food in me. My aunt went on to say that my mother brought me to her and my older cousins would hold me down so that my aunt could force food into my mouth and make me eat. I do not know how many times this occurred before I started to eat again.
My father and mother both told me how as a toddler I would sit on a friend's lap (dad's army buddy) and eat raw onions with tears running down my cheeks. What a strange thing to feed a baby.
As an adult and new mother I was puzzled that my mother would call me long distance (she lived in another state) and tell me that my baby was malnourished and that I needed to get her to the doctor. My baby was in the 90th percentile for height, weight and motor skills. I took her to every well baby appointment and she was a good eater.
When I related this puzzling conversation to my aunt ( on my dad's side) she paused as if she wanted to tell me something. Finally she told me of the time my mother had severely burnt my mouth with a hot spoon to the point she could not get me to eat. The pediatrician had told my mother I was malnourished and she needed to get some food in me. My aunt went on to say that my mother brought me to her and my older cousins would hold me down so that my aunt could force food into my mouth and make me eat. I do not know how many times this occurred before I started to eat again.
My father and mother both told me how as a toddler I would sit on a friend's lap (dad's army buddy) and eat raw onions with tears running down my cheeks. What a strange thing to feed a baby.
Monday, January 19, 2009
A Cry Silenced
A pessimist would say their glass is half empty, an optimist would say their glass is half full.
I say, my glass is half full, there is room for more, whatcha wait'n for, filler 'er up please. :)
My dad was a soft spoken, kind hearted, gentle man. He was the biggest influence in my life. On occasion when I would do stupid kid stuff, my dad would say to me "you must have been dropped on your head as baby". I always thought this kind of odd but didn't ask what he meant. I lost my dad in 1984, I think of him everyday and miss him.
My mom and dad were married sometime before I was born. One might say I was an unexpected event. My mother was 31 and my dad was 37. We lived in a two room apartment, one was the kitchen and the other larger room served as the bedroom and living room. It was attached to other apartments to form a square. I remember there was a community outhouse in the center of the square of apartments and across the street were buildings referred to as 'cribs', where winos and prostitutes hung out. Down the street at the end of the the apartments was a liquor store and attached to that was a neighborhood grocery.
Later on as an adult a close family friend told me a story about how my mother, when she could not get me to quit crying would throw me against the wall. I was lucky, I didn't suffer any broken bones or brain damage. I asked my older brother about these incidents as there is quite a bit that I don't remember and he said he remembers discussions about my being thrown against the wall.
I say, my glass is half full, there is room for more, whatcha wait'n for, filler 'er up please. :)
My dad was a soft spoken, kind hearted, gentle man. He was the biggest influence in my life. On occasion when I would do stupid kid stuff, my dad would say to me "you must have been dropped on your head as baby". I always thought this kind of odd but didn't ask what he meant. I lost my dad in 1984, I think of him everyday and miss him.
My mom and dad were married sometime before I was born. One might say I was an unexpected event. My mother was 31 and my dad was 37. We lived in a two room apartment, one was the kitchen and the other larger room served as the bedroom and living room. It was attached to other apartments to form a square. I remember there was a community outhouse in the center of the square of apartments and across the street were buildings referred to as 'cribs', where winos and prostitutes hung out. Down the street at the end of the the apartments was a liquor store and attached to that was a neighborhood grocery.
Later on as an adult a close family friend told me a story about how my mother, when she could not get me to quit crying would throw me against the wall. I was lucky, I didn't suffer any broken bones or brain damage. I asked my older brother about these incidents as there is quite a bit that I don't remember and he said he remembers discussions about my being thrown against the wall.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
