My husband and I were in the mall. He was getting his watch fixed. I needed to sit down so I went back into the mall. Suddenly I realized I was talking to myself. Out loud. When I went home, I wrote this poem. Little old lady, sitting all alone, Talking to herself, ’cause she doesn’t have a phone. No one to call, there’s nobody home. One by one they left her, and now they’re all gone. Gone are the…..
In “Choosing Life,” I told you that I am allergic to roses. When I heard the song “I Never Promised You A Rose Garden,” I was thrilled. Nothing would be more deadly to me that a rose garden. Bottom line: Never be allergic to something that everybody loves. On the news today, the lead story was a German airliner that crashed into the Alps. The father of one of the young people killed in the crash said to the other…..
In “Choosing Life,” I told you that I was an only child. When I married George, I got a whole new family. Instantly I had a mom and two sisters-in-law and a brother-in-law. My brother-in-law’s wife was my third sister-in-law. I’ll call her Madge. Madge was a fourth generation Californian, and a feisty one at that. If there was one thing that Madge had, it was opinions. And she held them strongly. Most of her opinions revolved around the sad…..
In “Choosing Life,” I told you about my dysfunctional family. Both my mother and my father were damaged people. They disowned me in 1975. In 1980, my father left my mother for a woman younger than me. My mother had been a diabetic since 1943. so my father left a very sick woman. He drained her bank accounts. I re-established contact with her when I learned that my father left. In 1987, her kidneys failed. I brought her into my…..
When I wrote “Choosing Life” I told you a little about how my father ended. Let me tell you how he began. I have a box of momentos that I saved from my childhood. In it there are several pins that my father received from having perfect attendance at his Baptist Sunday School. When I became a Christian (in my twenties), my dad told me that he had “accepted Christ” when he was a boy in Sunday School. My dad…..
I was recently asked if it was difficult to share such personal, intimate stories from my life when I wrote “Choosing Life.” I’ll try my best to describe a mindset that I probably share with other people who were abused as children. My head is full of stories about me and about my family. But as I child I learned to disconnect from what was going on around me. I developed the ability to block out everything around me so…..
When I wrote “Choosing Life,” I told you a little about my father’s father. Grandpop worked in a rivet factory and, after the war, got my father started in that business. He was an Irishman, and therefore charming, but he was a drunk. Every Friday night he spent his whole paycheck at the local bar. Grandpop also had a short fuse. One time, when another man at the bar made him angry, he knocked him unconcious with a single punch……
Someone who recently read my book “Choosing Life” told me that my story made her angry at my parents. After a moment of enjoying the empathy, I realized what I had to tell her. The dysfunction did not start with my parents. It goes back I don’t know how many generations. Let me tell you about my mother’s mother, Gram. Gram’s mother died when she was in third grade. School was over for her. She was sent to live with her…..