Hey All, We all plan for the future. Whether it's for the day or the next year, we each plan our lives to some extent. When we were in High School, all of us had some idea what we wanted to do next and made arrangements in kind. We plan and God laughs.
It was January 1979. I went through school with absolutely no idea what I was going to do as a career when I graduated. I didn't apply myself very much to any of the classes I took, I didn't need to because in our house no one cared much about what grades you got. No one checked homework and parents signed off on report cards without much comment. All that was required was a passing grade, not your best effort or living up to your potential.
I had taken a psychology course with Peter Barsky as the
teacher in high school. It had peaked an interest in me and it was then I decided that
I would like a career in Psychology. We were very poor growing up, so I
knew that I was going to be on the hook for the full ride. I was a Library Aide, so I asked Mrs Sloss what I had to do to get any financial aide that I might qualify for. She explained how things worked and I went to Guidance to get the necessary forms to fill out. I took them home and filled out what I could and had to ask Mom for their financial info to be able to complete them. It was then that I had a problem...........Mom was drunk as usual and wanted to know why I needed it. After I explained it to her and she looked at the forms she said"It's nobody's f******* business how much money we make .........I'm not telling you and your not going".. I dropped the whole idea after that, I was too embarassed to tell anyone what happened. Dad was on the road and unavailable and I wasn't sure when he'd be back.
A week or so after this Mom came out into the kitchen, drunk again and informed me that when I turned 18 years old, I had to get out of the house. I asked if Dad knew about this and she replied that he did. Joe still lived at home and was 21 at this time. Since my 18th birthday was a couple of weeks away, I asked if I could stay until I graduated. She considered this for a moment and agreed. I was hurt by this and wondered why I had to leave and Joe could stay.................it turned out that Tom could stay too.
Now I felt the pressure to come up with something so I wasn't going to be jobless and homeless. I ended up enlisting in the Army. After my birthday, I signed up for the delayed entry program and would report on June 25th for Basic Training. After all the arrangements were solid, I told Mom what I had done and she got mad. She said she wouldn't sign for me and I explained that at 18, she had no say about it. Of course Dad didn't know what I had done either.
The day came shortly before Dad passed away that we had a conversation about this at Grandmoms' house. Grandmom was there but Mom wasn't. I explained what had happened and he just sat there for a minute looking at me in disbelief. He then stressed the point that he had no idea that this had occured and wouldn't have agreed if he had. He then talked about how many things he missed not being at home so much because of his job. He felt bad about it for me and angry at Mom at the same time. He knew his time was short from the doctors prognosis and he had a lot of regrets. I explained that everything was okay, I didn't fault him for what happened ..................it is what it is....................even if what it is.............................isn't what we hoped for.
Until next time..................God Bless.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Dinnertime
Hey all, My father was a man it took me a long time to understand. He would get frustrated sometimes and lose his cool with an explozive anger that I had a healthy respect for. His father was an alcoholic and my grandfather was not a kind man when drunk. I'm not making excuses for Dad, just cutting him some slack. He learned to be a father from his father. Which means nobody showed him much in the way of nurturing...............pretty much the opposite. "The sins of father will be visited upon the next generations".
It was a cold day in November at my Grandparents house. We three boys had spent the day raking leaves and other chores that Dad gave us.. It was getting dark as we finished up and Grandmom was busy making dinner. I could smell the aroma of home cooking as soon as I got through the back door. Dinner wasn't ready yet so we all sat and watched TV with Grandpop. He had a stroke before I was born and his right side was mostly paralyzed. He usually would sit and smoke his pipe as he looked out the window across town or towards Buckingham Mountain. If it was nice outside, he would sit outside as we worked on whatever the chores for the day were. He never said much, but could utter curse words with no problem at all.
Grandmom had the table set and she set up a tray for Grandpop, because with all of us boys there with Dad there wasn't much room at the table and he couldn't maneuver very well. He sat by the colonnade so he was facing the table and so he could take the meal with everyone else. Grandmom called us for dinner. Dad sat at the end of the table and Joe my older brother, was seated on his left. Joe usually got to the table first at mealtime and usually was the last to leave. There weren't any leftovers as a rule. Dad had already started eating by this time and his head was down towards his plate, so he didn't see what happened next. I couldn't squeeze between Joe and Grandpops' stuffed chair. Joe leaned back with his left arm and tried to move a tall stand type ashtray with a heavy metal tray in it. He didn't do so well because it fell to floor with a crash. The metal tray hit a gallon jug of Vina Duva red wine and broke the glass. Wine was all over the floor. Everything was silent for a moment. I looked from Joe to the mess on the floor and back again. He didn't make a move to clean it up, so I bent over and started to pick up the pieces. That turned out to be a mistake.......................as far as Dad was concerned it was an admission of guilt. The next thing I knew I was jerked backwards by my shirt and slammed into a wall. I got slapped in the face a few times, that resulted in wetting myself. I instinctively brought my hands up to cover my face, which only served to piss him off more.. He then hit me in the middle, so I dropped to floor and tried to curl up in ball. That resulted in getting kicked. When this was done he grabbed me by the shirt collar and lifted so high that I had to stand on my toe tips. I walked me to the back door that way and had me open it.......I was then tossed outside. He turned the backdoor light off and went back inside. A few seconds later the door opens and he tosses out my winter coat. That was considerate because it was snowing by then. He ordered me to get in our car and stay there.......................... I did.
When all this was happenning, I could hear my Grandmother yelling that I didn't do it. I could hear my Grandfather too. That in itself was unusual because of his difficulty in getting words out. When they finally came out of the house everybody had their meal were quiet. The ride home was just as quiet, not a syllable. I wasn't guilty but I was the one to pay Dad had great difficulty admitting that he was wrong and saying he was sorry. I went to bed hungry and upset. Dad was one for kicking your butt first and asking questions later and this was not the only time that someting like this happpened. If I learned anything from my him, it was "don't jump to conclusions". I spent a lot of time trying to understand and please my Dad. It took almost all of the time that I knew him to even get an idea.
Until next time...................God Bless.
It was a cold day in November at my Grandparents house. We three boys had spent the day raking leaves and other chores that Dad gave us.. It was getting dark as we finished up and Grandmom was busy making dinner. I could smell the aroma of home cooking as soon as I got through the back door. Dinner wasn't ready yet so we all sat and watched TV with Grandpop. He had a stroke before I was born and his right side was mostly paralyzed. He usually would sit and smoke his pipe as he looked out the window across town or towards Buckingham Mountain. If it was nice outside, he would sit outside as we worked on whatever the chores for the day were. He never said much, but could utter curse words with no problem at all.
Grandmom had the table set and she set up a tray for Grandpop, because with all of us boys there with Dad there wasn't much room at the table and he couldn't maneuver very well. He sat by the colonnade so he was facing the table and so he could take the meal with everyone else. Grandmom called us for dinner. Dad sat at the end of the table and Joe my older brother, was seated on his left. Joe usually got to the table first at mealtime and usually was the last to leave. There weren't any leftovers as a rule. Dad had already started eating by this time and his head was down towards his plate, so he didn't see what happened next. I couldn't squeeze between Joe and Grandpops' stuffed chair. Joe leaned back with his left arm and tried to move a tall stand type ashtray with a heavy metal tray in it. He didn't do so well because it fell to floor with a crash. The metal tray hit a gallon jug of Vina Duva red wine and broke the glass. Wine was all over the floor. Everything was silent for a moment. I looked from Joe to the mess on the floor and back again. He didn't make a move to clean it up, so I bent over and started to pick up the pieces. That turned out to be a mistake.......................as far as Dad was concerned it was an admission of guilt. The next thing I knew I was jerked backwards by my shirt and slammed into a wall. I got slapped in the face a few times, that resulted in wetting myself. I instinctively brought my hands up to cover my face, which only served to piss him off more.. He then hit me in the middle, so I dropped to floor and tried to curl up in ball. That resulted in getting kicked. When this was done he grabbed me by the shirt collar and lifted so high that I had to stand on my toe tips. I walked me to the back door that way and had me open it.......I was then tossed outside. He turned the backdoor light off and went back inside. A few seconds later the door opens and he tosses out my winter coat. That was considerate because it was snowing by then. He ordered me to get in our car and stay there.......................... I did.
When all this was happenning, I could hear my Grandmother yelling that I didn't do it. I could hear my Grandfather too. That in itself was unusual because of his difficulty in getting words out. When they finally came out of the house everybody had their meal were quiet. The ride home was just as quiet, not a syllable. I wasn't guilty but I was the one to pay Dad had great difficulty admitting that he was wrong and saying he was sorry. I went to bed hungry and upset. Dad was one for kicking your butt first and asking questions later and this was not the only time that someting like this happpened. If I learned anything from my him, it was "don't jump to conclusions". I spent a lot of time trying to understand and please my Dad. It took almost all of the time that I knew him to even get an idea.
Until next time...................God Bless.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
John Wayne
Hey All, We all do things that we wish we wish we could take back or do over. It would be nice to have a big red "do over" button we could hit. Everything that happens affects the future, even if we can't see it or notice it.
Tom and I spent a lot of time together as kids. We spent great deal of this time at Grandmoms' in Buckingham. We would hunt in the fields across the road or down the mountain, fish in the creek down at Doc Taylors and bring suckers home for dinner that Grandmom would make fried fish cakes. Sometimes we would get bored ....... and that would lead to trouble, especially on this one particular summer day.
We were in our mid teens. We spent a lot of time watching television and westerns. We were raised in a be tough, be strong, "don't cry or I'll give you something to cry about" type of male dominated family. John Wayne was kind of like the image of mascilinity to srtive for. I was by nature, a quiet, non aggressive kid, who had to exert myself to be the rough and tumble kind, the son my father expected. Although I was thought to be intelligent, that was valued on par with being a mans' man. I didn't know how to be that son. Tommy was by nature that son. He had the valued intelligence and the strong male persona that my Dad respected and expected. A lot of the time growing up I would watch Tom and imitate his behavior to try and learn what to do, so that I might earn my Dad's approval, his positive attention, his rough style of affection..............just like Tommy had.
Dad was out on the road as usual. It was a hot Friday afternoon as we sat in the lawn chairs under the big maple tree outside of Grandmoms' house. We were bored and didn't know what to do with ourselves as we spent this time in idle conversation. We each had our own pellet rifles and we decided to take them out across the road and see what we could get into, after all nothing else was happening. We walked the edge of the field up and down and after getting nothing but useless exercise, sat down on a fallen tree. This wasn't helping our relentless sense of boredom. I don't recall who came up with this brilliant idea, but after talking about western movies, it was decide that we would get behind trees and shoot at each other. Yeah, I know, this was not the intelligence that my fathered admired.
We took refuge behind the biggest trees available, at 30 feet apart, which protected us each completely.. The agreement was that we would only pump the rifles 3 times. That hardly mattered because even at that, if hit in the wrong place it could be fatal. I only exposed my arms as I pointed the gun blindly around the big tree and shot in Toms' general direction. After each shot , we would have to cock, load and re- pump the rifles. I forgot myself and pumped it more than 3 times. With my back against the tree, I held the rifle in my left hand and pulled the trigger with my right thumb. I immediately heard a yelp from Tom and then then his yell that I hit him. My heart was racing as I ran out to where he was standing and saw blood on the ground and he was nowhere insight. He had ran straight to Grandmoms' and ran so fast I didn't see him until I got there. Grandmom didn't drive so she called a friend and took Tom to the doctor. An Xray showed that the bullet had gone into his arm, a few inches above his wrist, traveled up his arm a few inches and lodged against the bone. Grandmom was upset with us to say the least and Tommy had told her it was an accident, a ricochet. If they knew how this really happened, Dad would have kicked our asses for sure. He may have taken away our hunting privileges as well. It was a good thing Tom thought fast on his feet. It was late in the day, so Tommy had to wait until Monday for surgery to remove the bullet. The doctor said it wasn't life threatening so it would be alright. Come Monday, when taken to get it removed, the doctor used a pair of tweezers. From using his arm, the muscle action had worked the bullet to just below the surface and surgery wasn't required.
God looked after us that day. What are the odds that not aiming, not even looking, that I would hit Tommy in the only exposed part of his body? How about the fact that his injury wasn't serious and that surgery was avoided because it was deferred? We made a lot of mistakes back then and we learned to respect firearms without the steep price it could have cost us. We were left without any parental supervision, no guidance, most of the time. Without our guardian angels, we wouldn't be here today. How many times would I come to find out that this was true? Time would tell...................and so will I.
Until next time.........................God Bless.
Tom and I spent a lot of time together as kids. We spent great deal of this time at Grandmoms' in Buckingham. We would hunt in the fields across the road or down the mountain, fish in the creek down at Doc Taylors and bring suckers home for dinner that Grandmom would make fried fish cakes. Sometimes we would get bored ....... and that would lead to trouble, especially on this one particular summer day.
We were in our mid teens. We spent a lot of time watching television and westerns. We were raised in a be tough, be strong, "don't cry or I'll give you something to cry about" type of male dominated family. John Wayne was kind of like the image of mascilinity to srtive for. I was by nature, a quiet, non aggressive kid, who had to exert myself to be the rough and tumble kind, the son my father expected. Although I was thought to be intelligent, that was valued on par with being a mans' man. I didn't know how to be that son. Tommy was by nature that son. He had the valued intelligence and the strong male persona that my Dad respected and expected. A lot of the time growing up I would watch Tom and imitate his behavior to try and learn what to do, so that I might earn my Dad's approval, his positive attention, his rough style of affection..............just like Tommy had.
Dad was out on the road as usual. It was a hot Friday afternoon as we sat in the lawn chairs under the big maple tree outside of Grandmoms' house. We were bored and didn't know what to do with ourselves as we spent this time in idle conversation. We each had our own pellet rifles and we decided to take them out across the road and see what we could get into, after all nothing else was happening. We walked the edge of the field up and down and after getting nothing but useless exercise, sat down on a fallen tree. This wasn't helping our relentless sense of boredom. I don't recall who came up with this brilliant idea, but after talking about western movies, it was decide that we would get behind trees and shoot at each other. Yeah, I know, this was not the intelligence that my fathered admired.
We took refuge behind the biggest trees available, at 30 feet apart, which protected us each completely.. The agreement was that we would only pump the rifles 3 times. That hardly mattered because even at that, if hit in the wrong place it could be fatal. I only exposed my arms as I pointed the gun blindly around the big tree and shot in Toms' general direction. After each shot , we would have to cock, load and re- pump the rifles. I forgot myself and pumped it more than 3 times. With my back against the tree, I held the rifle in my left hand and pulled the trigger with my right thumb. I immediately heard a yelp from Tom and then then his yell that I hit him. My heart was racing as I ran out to where he was standing and saw blood on the ground and he was nowhere insight. He had ran straight to Grandmoms' and ran so fast I didn't see him until I got there. Grandmom didn't drive so she called a friend and took Tom to the doctor. An Xray showed that the bullet had gone into his arm, a few inches above his wrist, traveled up his arm a few inches and lodged against the bone. Grandmom was upset with us to say the least and Tommy had told her it was an accident, a ricochet. If they knew how this really happened, Dad would have kicked our asses for sure. He may have taken away our hunting privileges as well. It was a good thing Tom thought fast on his feet. It was late in the day, so Tommy had to wait until Monday for surgery to remove the bullet. The doctor said it wasn't life threatening so it would be alright. Come Monday, when taken to get it removed, the doctor used a pair of tweezers. From using his arm, the muscle action had worked the bullet to just below the surface and surgery wasn't required.
God looked after us that day. What are the odds that not aiming, not even looking, that I would hit Tommy in the only exposed part of his body? How about the fact that his injury wasn't serious and that surgery was avoided because it was deferred? We made a lot of mistakes back then and we learned to respect firearms without the steep price it could have cost us. We were left without any parental supervision, no guidance, most of the time. Without our guardian angels, we wouldn't be here today. How many times would I come to find out that this was true? Time would tell...................and so will I.
Until next time.........................God Bless.
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