The last time I saw her, she had been vibrant, full of vigor and sort of reminded me of a beautifully aging hippy, yet not. She drove an old VW bug well into her nineties, and bought that baby brand spanking new. Maybe that is the only reason she reminded me of a hippy, otherwise nothing but pure elegance and good living reflected back from this gal. She was my piano teacher when I was a kid, all my siblings as well. I don't remember too much from the lessons, "Heart and Soul" was probably as far as I got. I played by ear, just didn't know it then to my great frustration and I am sure hers. But.... she was nothing but patient. When we were finished with our lesson, that was the best part, milk and cookies waiting.
My mom asked if we could stop by the house she is now living in, not five minutes from her own home, even on the same street. I didn't know what to expect as we walked in, she had broken her hip in the past year, several other things, or how many people lived here. As I approached her the first thing I noticed, frail, tiny hands, those same beautiful hands that taught me piano, now seemed so lost. She seemed even more beautiful, in the purest way.
My mom sat on one side and I sat on the other as she grabbed our hands and just held on like a child.
It was so sweet as I looked into her eyes and saw such love and goodness. I have always liked her, but never was able to be close to her as this moment. She was very active and perky are the only words I could use to describe her, very self sufficient. She had been a widow for many years, buried a son, raised three other children, I just always saw such strength.
Today, now as she held on, I felt her hands, wrists so fragile I was careful not to grip her too hard,
yet something was tugging at me hold on, don't let go. I dug around in my purse, (women and our bottomless pits of things) I knew I'd recently bought a really delicious smelling hand lotion and started massaging her hands very gently, rhythmically, almost as though it were a dance. We both relaxed more, our conversation becoming more natural, less stilted. I looked around the room with each stroke of her hand, observing two very darling older women in chairs, as we all sat watching an old black and white movie on some ancient TV set. The days were unbearably long, it was so clear.
It was so interesting looking back and forth between my mother and her. She wanted to touch, pure affection something my mother was struggling with. She told me she didn't want to take away all the kisses I had for my mother to her. It was just about the most darling thing.... as I assured her there was plenty in my arsenal of kisses, that I could promise would never run short. (This was one of my moms oldest friends from Temple City and watching them kiss each other was so good for my heart.... just sweetness of children)
She was holding the small bottle of lotion, cupping it, with kleenex I had given her to dry her hands. With almost reverent motions with the bottle as she spoke, telling me she might forget about the lotion, I asked her to smell it, that would help her remember and make her feel good. Life is interesting that way for all of us, when we break it down to just simple. I put my hand on her heart, it didn't matter what her head said at times, her heart always would lead her where she needed to go. In that moment, she began talking about her son, I knew in my heart which one she was talking about. Her heart was talking now.
We spoke for awhile longer, she thanked us both for coming, then my mom had gone outside, at this point. I have had my share of saying - that I would be back. I am not proud of this. I knew without a doubt I would be back this time, and every week thereafter. I thanked her, and finally knew why.
She was the gift, she was grace that I got to experience. Pure divine love.
She held tighter to the lotion, as I kissed her goodbye. She said she knew she wouldn't forget what it was, it was her holy water.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Intersection
How can I be at such an intersection of feelings all at once?
Almost tingling with confusion, hurt, anger, exhaust, relief, wanting to fall into a deep slumber as I write this. The letting go stage- aha! I was just talking to my son Matt, we were looking back on the week my dad died. Sometimes enough time needs to pass where guilt, pretending, just letting what is or isn't just be. Sometimes when a person dies, we think we have to make them into someone they weren't when they were living. Why that is, I will never know. To some, we tell the truth and it is though we have committed some act of treason. Disrespect to the dead. Not to me.... it just is or isn't.
This story is important for one reason and one reason alone, it allows everyone to feel whatever they do about their parents, good,bad or in between. We don't wear the shoes of anyone but our own, have no idea how another feels all the way through, how someone was raised from childhood- what pushes peoples buttons up until present time.
The night my dad went into the hospital, kicking and screaming,( literally for weeks, months) almost fully bleeding out at home, then full cardiac arrest by the time he was in the emergency room. I suggest you stop reading now if you don't like details. My father to the very end was going to do it his way, and it didn't involve how anyone of us felt. In life this was a fact, overall, so in death this would be no different. What was I thinking- to get him to go to the hospital all that week, my mom wouldn't let me come down to their house, I was banned. I feel an enormous amount of pain writing this and some shame, but if the truth sets you free, then I am ready. I tried calling different agencies for help through the months, for my mom, for him. I knew the household was deteriorating, it was getting sicker with his secrets, and he was making my mom and brother keep his secrets. My youngest brother ( who lives in their back house) had just gotten out of a facility( for the fourth time) and was very fragile. The very next day after he returned home, my dad started having extreme bathroom issues and had my brother deal with it alone, and it was intense from the get go. By the end, it had deteriorated to the point where he wanted to eat meals in the bathroom, simply left the door open, acted like it was perfectly normal. His behaviors through our lives had been similar- I have to say in other ways, now that I look back. Such hight levels of inappropriateness that I have laughed off, or my brother and I would mimic my parents voices, anything because the truth is, it was just too much. I have told very close friends some behaviors that have gone on in that house, but I am still cautious to tell others-I can be very glib, when I am in a particularly high shock mode I will just say things, but what can you really do when things go on? We stay away now as much as possible, I didn't subject my kids to too much hopefully. They acted a little more dignified and normal when they were around.
My brother and I are the youngest children of six, and always felt responsible for our parents, he for my father, me for my mother. My dad was getting very out of control with issues at this point, and had my mom and brother lying to me, and everyone. My brother finally called and couldn't take it anymore one night when my father bled all down the hallway. I said I was coming over, my mother wouldn't let me in the house, it was getting insane. I finally said I was no longer there for them( to get in the door), I was there for my brother.
I called my oldest brother, my sister, and tried to get my dad to reason, get him to the hospital. My mom, my sister, my dad and me sat at the table, Ray and my brother were in the back house.
I begged my dad, anything to get him to go to the hospital. Nothing but him getting angrier and angrier and directing it at me, it got to a fevered pitch. He started in on me, I just didn't expect it.
What a miserable daughter I was, terrible teenager, snarling as he spoke, saying horrible things about me- the kind of girl I was as a teen. My mother and sister spoke not one word in my defense, complete silence. I told him he had not been a kind father, not done the job he needed to have done.
One thing I am proud of, no matter how low he went, I never went there with him.
He told me to get out, to never come back, I was a good for nothing, just like when I was a kid.
Still, nothing form my mother or sister..... silence.
Ray and Paul, my brother heard us going back and forth, heard some of what my dad had said.
They were enraged, I was shocked anyone would even be enraged at that point, because my sister and mom acted as if it were normal. As Ray defended his wife, my dad told him to get the hell out and never come back, it was awful.
My oldest brother acted like the whole thing wasn't going on, just kept wandering around. My dad told him he didn't want to go to the hospital, to that my brother said, "A guys got his rights." Sure does asshole, this is the same guy I had to console when he felt guilty about my dad dying, he just ignored the whole thing.
Yep, this is what it looks like when feelings of all this come out. I kept it in, held it together for everyone- everyone but me. Now over a year and a half later it is coming out, it is time.
The night my dad did finally go in the hospital, the only reason he would go- my oldest brother told him he wanted to go on vacation soon, so my dad went in. He wouldn't do it for anyone or other reason.
By the time we all went in the room at Emergency he had a tube down his throat. We were told he wouldn't make it through the night- time to say our goodbyes. ( He held on for another week)
Imagine six kids, spouses, all the grandchildren packed in this tiny room, no one in leadership role, no boundaries. My dad keeps pointing to me to come close to him. We hadn't spoken since the week before I know what he wants- us to say we are sorry to each other. No one backs up, no one gives us space, I don't do well in groups, with audiences..... you could hear a pin drop.
I apologized, crying, it doesn't stop there. He points for me to come close, he wants more, I know what he wants. I am beginning to lose it, this is too much. He wants me to make up with my oldest brother, and we haven't spoken in over three years. No way I am not doing this..... I see everyone perk up even more.... and that is how my family rolls.
He is frantically pointing to my brother and back at me, I feel as though I am on trial, if I don't do this- I am just a shit. Never in life would he just talk to me, with anyone just sit down for anything real. If we did try- full blown attacks so below the belt, and now he wants this, full audience so he can feel better. So much history with this brother who caused so much pain I cannot begin to express, he
had my sisters take sides against me- my entire family, agony was searing into me. So many lies....
and now it was my moment of letting it go, just be me for what I stood for, what I claimed I stood for.
My children were there......
I apologized, one of the hardest things I have ever done. Apologizing to someone who betrayed and destroyed me at such a young age so I could let my father rest in peace, a father who had not been a father. My children were watching, I was watching.... this was my life and I was fully present now in it. Not one ounce of breathing room or dignity did I receive in this process.
I will tell you something, the person who is typing this story today- is able to proudly stand tall and strong from that day, that moment in time, I faced my fears. One of my boogeyman, my brother, and it changed me.
Grace came to me, something I never knew before that moment, it was bigger than me.
I needed that time to heal, because my brother and I soon had to figure out together every step of the funeral - no one else came forward, months afterward with my mother as well.
I no longer feared him, he was just him, no more no less. I was able to go to lunch with my mom and him, after awhile I chose to no longer be around him, it just didn't feel good. I now feel sorry for him, he is a very sad person.
Our family came together for but a moment with my dad, then as quickly literally the moment he was gone- it was done, been that way ever since. Although I have two other sisters, I go separately to see my mother, they will forever be "the girls ,"to my mother, I am just me. When I am away I do better than when I am near them. I do and have done my best, and will continue to try, but damage is damage.
I now have people who have my back and vice versa, love me for me. It is new, I take it day by day, do the best I can. I have to let go of the Village I came from, The Village of Betrayals....
so I can be part of this wonderful love that awaits me everyday. These are the things I know, I write because it is all I know what to do, trying to make some sense of where I come from.
I forgive more and more each and every time- it is a process. I forgive myself for my shortcomings, I try harder, pray for willingness, understanding, less judgement and most of all compassion. I am at the intersection of my life.
Almost tingling with confusion, hurt, anger, exhaust, relief, wanting to fall into a deep slumber as I write this. The letting go stage- aha! I was just talking to my son Matt, we were looking back on the week my dad died. Sometimes enough time needs to pass where guilt, pretending, just letting what is or isn't just be. Sometimes when a person dies, we think we have to make them into someone they weren't when they were living. Why that is, I will never know. To some, we tell the truth and it is though we have committed some act of treason. Disrespect to the dead. Not to me.... it just is or isn't.
This story is important for one reason and one reason alone, it allows everyone to feel whatever they do about their parents, good,bad or in between. We don't wear the shoes of anyone but our own, have no idea how another feels all the way through, how someone was raised from childhood- what pushes peoples buttons up until present time.
The night my dad went into the hospital, kicking and screaming,( literally for weeks, months) almost fully bleeding out at home, then full cardiac arrest by the time he was in the emergency room. I suggest you stop reading now if you don't like details. My father to the very end was going to do it his way, and it didn't involve how anyone of us felt. In life this was a fact, overall, so in death this would be no different. What was I thinking- to get him to go to the hospital all that week, my mom wouldn't let me come down to their house, I was banned. I feel an enormous amount of pain writing this and some shame, but if the truth sets you free, then I am ready. I tried calling different agencies for help through the months, for my mom, for him. I knew the household was deteriorating, it was getting sicker with his secrets, and he was making my mom and brother keep his secrets. My youngest brother ( who lives in their back house) had just gotten out of a facility( for the fourth time) and was very fragile. The very next day after he returned home, my dad started having extreme bathroom issues and had my brother deal with it alone, and it was intense from the get go. By the end, it had deteriorated to the point where he wanted to eat meals in the bathroom, simply left the door open, acted like it was perfectly normal. His behaviors through our lives had been similar- I have to say in other ways, now that I look back. Such hight levels of inappropriateness that I have laughed off, or my brother and I would mimic my parents voices, anything because the truth is, it was just too much. I have told very close friends some behaviors that have gone on in that house, but I am still cautious to tell others-I can be very glib, when I am in a particularly high shock mode I will just say things, but what can you really do when things go on? We stay away now as much as possible, I didn't subject my kids to too much hopefully. They acted a little more dignified and normal when they were around.
My brother and I are the youngest children of six, and always felt responsible for our parents, he for my father, me for my mother. My dad was getting very out of control with issues at this point, and had my mom and brother lying to me, and everyone. My brother finally called and couldn't take it anymore one night when my father bled all down the hallway. I said I was coming over, my mother wouldn't let me in the house, it was getting insane. I finally said I was no longer there for them( to get in the door), I was there for my brother.
I called my oldest brother, my sister, and tried to get my dad to reason, get him to the hospital. My mom, my sister, my dad and me sat at the table, Ray and my brother were in the back house.
I begged my dad, anything to get him to go to the hospital. Nothing but him getting angrier and angrier and directing it at me, it got to a fevered pitch. He started in on me, I just didn't expect it.
What a miserable daughter I was, terrible teenager, snarling as he spoke, saying horrible things about me- the kind of girl I was as a teen. My mother and sister spoke not one word in my defense, complete silence. I told him he had not been a kind father, not done the job he needed to have done.
One thing I am proud of, no matter how low he went, I never went there with him.
He told me to get out, to never come back, I was a good for nothing, just like when I was a kid.
Still, nothing form my mother or sister..... silence.
Ray and Paul, my brother heard us going back and forth, heard some of what my dad had said.
They were enraged, I was shocked anyone would even be enraged at that point, because my sister and mom acted as if it were normal. As Ray defended his wife, my dad told him to get the hell out and never come back, it was awful.
My oldest brother acted like the whole thing wasn't going on, just kept wandering around. My dad told him he didn't want to go to the hospital, to that my brother said, "A guys got his rights." Sure does asshole, this is the same guy I had to console when he felt guilty about my dad dying, he just ignored the whole thing.
Yep, this is what it looks like when feelings of all this come out. I kept it in, held it together for everyone- everyone but me. Now over a year and a half later it is coming out, it is time.
The night my dad did finally go in the hospital, the only reason he would go- my oldest brother told him he wanted to go on vacation soon, so my dad went in. He wouldn't do it for anyone or other reason.
By the time we all went in the room at Emergency he had a tube down his throat. We were told he wouldn't make it through the night- time to say our goodbyes. ( He held on for another week)
Imagine six kids, spouses, all the grandchildren packed in this tiny room, no one in leadership role, no boundaries. My dad keeps pointing to me to come close to him. We hadn't spoken since the week before I know what he wants- us to say we are sorry to each other. No one backs up, no one gives us space, I don't do well in groups, with audiences..... you could hear a pin drop.
I apologized, crying, it doesn't stop there. He points for me to come close, he wants more, I know what he wants. I am beginning to lose it, this is too much. He wants me to make up with my oldest brother, and we haven't spoken in over three years. No way I am not doing this..... I see everyone perk up even more.... and that is how my family rolls.
He is frantically pointing to my brother and back at me, I feel as though I am on trial, if I don't do this- I am just a shit. Never in life would he just talk to me, with anyone just sit down for anything real. If we did try- full blown attacks so below the belt, and now he wants this, full audience so he can feel better. So much history with this brother who caused so much pain I cannot begin to express, he
had my sisters take sides against me- my entire family, agony was searing into me. So many lies....
and now it was my moment of letting it go, just be me for what I stood for, what I claimed I stood for.
My children were there......
I apologized, one of the hardest things I have ever done. Apologizing to someone who betrayed and destroyed me at such a young age so I could let my father rest in peace, a father who had not been a father. My children were watching, I was watching.... this was my life and I was fully present now in it. Not one ounce of breathing room or dignity did I receive in this process.
I will tell you something, the person who is typing this story today- is able to proudly stand tall and strong from that day, that moment in time, I faced my fears. One of my boogeyman, my brother, and it changed me.
Grace came to me, something I never knew before that moment, it was bigger than me.
I needed that time to heal, because my brother and I soon had to figure out together every step of the funeral - no one else came forward, months afterward with my mother as well.
I no longer feared him, he was just him, no more no less. I was able to go to lunch with my mom and him, after awhile I chose to no longer be around him, it just didn't feel good. I now feel sorry for him, he is a very sad person.
Our family came together for but a moment with my dad, then as quickly literally the moment he was gone- it was done, been that way ever since. Although I have two other sisters, I go separately to see my mother, they will forever be "the girls ,"to my mother, I am just me. When I am away I do better than when I am near them. I do and have done my best, and will continue to try, but damage is damage.
I now have people who have my back and vice versa, love me for me. It is new, I take it day by day, do the best I can. I have to let go of the Village I came from, The Village of Betrayals....
so I can be part of this wonderful love that awaits me everyday. These are the things I know, I write because it is all I know what to do, trying to make some sense of where I come from.
I forgive more and more each and every time- it is a process. I forgive myself for my shortcomings, I try harder, pray for willingness, understanding, less judgement and most of all compassion. I am at the intersection of my life.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Giant Stingrays
Okay, first of all, get it out of your pretty little head, we are not into oceanics.
The giant stingrays I am referring to- Schwinns, three wheelers, but at this point as you are reading this does it really matter. You know the kind you see in every weird town, where Ma and Pa Kettle , now three hundred years of age, is peddling. Carefree like the wind just cruising down Main Street USA.
Or, burnt out seventies meth addicts with long greasy hair, or some fifty nine year old on their 17th DUI rapping on their cell about the date their going on. I don't know what it is about these giant stingrays.... three wheelers, ok I 'fess up, Ray nicknamed them giant stingrays. But there is something about the people who ride them that amuses us to no end with every small town we round the bend into.
When I visit Temple City, where I grew up- I can make a bet on the fact someone will be riding a giant stingray on Las Tunas. Why is that so funny to us. Not that the people on the bikes are funny, just that giant three wheeler, bat out of hell heading out the gates, getting ready for ---- and the engines are a go!!!!! And here comes this three wheeler. We get more mileage on every trip, every town just anticipating that ride. Who will be on it, what they will be doing, where they are going. Ray calls me "Huella Howser," because my fascination with such mundane things......
I would interview them and ask them why? Why are you riding that thing? I really get the three hundred year old for balance- but that thing looks like an awful lot of work. Yet, when you are talking about your date from the night before, and going to "Bob's" house after a night of partying.... I guess those things do have their place. I would decorate mine for every holiday, and myself. Hmmm, just got me thinking. That's pretty much all I have on the subject o' the giant stingray.
The giant stingrays I am referring to- Schwinns, three wheelers, but at this point as you are reading this does it really matter. You know the kind you see in every weird town, where Ma and Pa Kettle , now three hundred years of age, is peddling. Carefree like the wind just cruising down Main Street USA.
Or, burnt out seventies meth addicts with long greasy hair, or some fifty nine year old on their 17th DUI rapping on their cell about the date their going on. I don't know what it is about these giant stingrays.... three wheelers, ok I 'fess up, Ray nicknamed them giant stingrays. But there is something about the people who ride them that amuses us to no end with every small town we round the bend into.
When I visit Temple City, where I grew up- I can make a bet on the fact someone will be riding a giant stingray on Las Tunas. Why is that so funny to us. Not that the people on the bikes are funny, just that giant three wheeler, bat out of hell heading out the gates, getting ready for ---- and the engines are a go!!!!! And here comes this three wheeler. We get more mileage on every trip, every town just anticipating that ride. Who will be on it, what they will be doing, where they are going. Ray calls me "Huella Howser," because my fascination with such mundane things......
I would interview them and ask them why? Why are you riding that thing? I really get the three hundred year old for balance- but that thing looks like an awful lot of work. Yet, when you are talking about your date from the night before, and going to "Bob's" house after a night of partying.... I guess those things do have their place. I would decorate mine for every holiday, and myself. Hmmm, just got me thinking. That's pretty much all I have on the subject o' the giant stingray.
Monday, March 24, 2014
The Wind
Alanis Morissette blasts in my ears, my moods feels like coastal weather, shifting from sunny to rain at a moments notice. I cannot keep up with it at times, this creative process,blessing or curse I wonder? I am who I am, I can be no different, not for lack of trying. I have tried to outrun me, hide from me, always having to prove, tough it out, push harder and harder, only for myself. And on again I would push, destination: Sedona, with a teacher for three, almost four days of non stop breaking down in order to build up again. I would not have wished this on my worst enemy. All in the name of letting go of "EGO". Well, this ego- still a bobcat, not quite ready to give up the ghost with this gentleman, few more rounds to go, and then some. ( Ray was back at the hotel waiting for me every night- my greatest reward ever.)
Daytime, the tearing down process, then night time back at the hotel, homework- hours and hours of it. People I needed to forgive, finally: Day three, Sedona Desert-
(Having previously gone through each person I needed to forgive, release, get angry about, if that fit the bill, really angry, find my voice... quit being such a good girl about those who hurt me, acknowledge those I hurt, forgiving those who victimized me, now let go of victim role, work on seeing the good, you name it. Hour after hour( with teacher) I had nothing left, and didn't care anymore, but a certain amount of fear, when the girl who brought me, now left me alone on the mountain with strange animal howlings now as my companion. Supplied with shovel, twigs, matches, all my papers, for every person I needed to forgive, the stack was thick with writings, and I realized then, I have to burn everyone of these things. About ten, twelve graves I needed to dig, say something about each person, letting go, then burning paper, cover up grave, make cross for each grave. Seriously?? Can't I just fake it like I had done so many other times in life??? But, as much as I hated this asshole who stripped my humanity to the bone, the more I fought, and let me tell you.... like a rabid dog. His process is something I would never, ever do again, ever. But I am someone who has always liked to break rules, I could sneak out, get away with anything, I was The Queen, The Pro, I knew how far I could push, uh just about anything, and I did. Growing up with a very out of control household, that is one thing I was always envious of with my two girlfriends, there were rules. I thought it was horrific.... yet deep down I longed for them. I pushed the limit more and more and more.
Now on this mountain, the tears, rage, frustration, heartache, fear.... what was I going to do?
What if a mountain lion ate me, or my biggest fear a snake bit me, the girl who brought me, forgot about me, left me here. This hurt, I didn't want to do this.... I already cried enough tears to fill the ocean- enough of this already. I was now simply scared, sad after all the anger. A girl who felt abandoned, alone, not worth fighting for.... and yet I kept digging one grave after the other, on my knees weeping, clawing at some, shouting, spitting, total irreverance at others. This infuriated me, a new rage came out. Then, finally through the rage a wellspring of tears in the purest form. I finally surrendered.
The day before, up at the meditation teachers house, she asked me who I thought God was? As always I felt as though it were a test. She was very loving, kind, patient. I felt embarrassed to answer, if somehow my answer would be wrong. That would be a very common theme in my life. I thought I was supposed to have some very magical, mystical, deep answer. In a very small voice as I stood outside, as The Wind blew..... I said- The Wind.
That has always been my feeling of God. Always as far back as a child, that has been what has comforted me, something I have understood, what has always brought me great joy. From that moment on I accepted that side of myself- and The Wind. Later I learned that is God, another word for him.... The Wind, my heart always knew, I just never trusted it.
As I sit writing this, it has been difficult to appreciate the lessons learned to bring me back to me..... to The Wind. No matter how many seminars, classes, places I have gone and will continue on,
this one was different, my very first one on one for such an extended period of time.
I had done many group sessions, regular hour therapy, but this just didn't stop. It allowed me to really dig in, time to work it out. He was the disciplinarian father, one I didn't understand and was having no part of. I fought with my life.... only in this moment writing this do I get it. Yes, he was an ass, rough, but there was no way around it with me. I had no respect. Zero. He knew it- I had to let go of my mothers view of men. My shame was unbearable- then kindness for me finally shone thru, humanity for me. I was a caged animal... by my choice. I wanted to be free, and I went to any means for my freedom. I have no regrets, my husband and son, all the men I love and respect deserved no less than me healing this side of me. Letting go of the painful female side as well, but the disrespect I was taught about males- I pray forgivable. I will work on this for my lifetime.
What I love and appreciate about my partner, my husband, my love. His trust and faith in me, even what would seem to others absolutely absurd, was right for me, he trusted me. That has been our marriage through it all, forgiveness, faith in one another, much laughter, taking leaps. Many a leap was taken early in his career, while others said why would you do that, ( with his risky choices... entertainment )just play it safe- teaching would be a good position, just stick to it. It was good for him, it is wonderful, but he wanted something different-in addition to.
We have blended beautifully the best parts of ourselves, to date. His with the financial aspect, mine with family, emotional, spiritual for us. We will ready ourselves over the next year or so to blend again, in a new way... one we haven't yet explored. This excites us both, to see what we have learned along the way. Dan Folgelberg has been singing in my ear, his music gives me hope, fills my heart with so much love. He is singing, " There's a place in the world for a gambler"
"And he sees, oh yes he sees, oh yes he sees. There's a song in the heart of a woman, that only the truest of loves can release, set it free, oh set it free. There's a a light in the depth of your darkness, there's a calm of the eye of every storm, let it shine, oh let it shine." Today I am proud of my work. The Wind and Me.
about maes
Daytime, the tearing down process, then night time back at the hotel, homework- hours and hours of it. People I needed to forgive, finally: Day three, Sedona Desert-
(Having previously gone through each person I needed to forgive, release, get angry about, if that fit the bill, really angry, find my voice... quit being such a good girl about those who hurt me, acknowledge those I hurt, forgiving those who victimized me, now let go of victim role, work on seeing the good, you name it. Hour after hour( with teacher) I had nothing left, and didn't care anymore, but a certain amount of fear, when the girl who brought me, now left me alone on the mountain with strange animal howlings now as my companion. Supplied with shovel, twigs, matches, all my papers, for every person I needed to forgive, the stack was thick with writings, and I realized then, I have to burn everyone of these things. About ten, twelve graves I needed to dig, say something about each person, letting go, then burning paper, cover up grave, make cross for each grave. Seriously?? Can't I just fake it like I had done so many other times in life??? But, as much as I hated this asshole who stripped my humanity to the bone, the more I fought, and let me tell you.... like a rabid dog. His process is something I would never, ever do again, ever. But I am someone who has always liked to break rules, I could sneak out, get away with anything, I was The Queen, The Pro, I knew how far I could push, uh just about anything, and I did. Growing up with a very out of control household, that is one thing I was always envious of with my two girlfriends, there were rules. I thought it was horrific.... yet deep down I longed for them. I pushed the limit more and more and more.
Now on this mountain, the tears, rage, frustration, heartache, fear.... what was I going to do?
What if a mountain lion ate me, or my biggest fear a snake bit me, the girl who brought me, forgot about me, left me here. This hurt, I didn't want to do this.... I already cried enough tears to fill the ocean- enough of this already. I was now simply scared, sad after all the anger. A girl who felt abandoned, alone, not worth fighting for.... and yet I kept digging one grave after the other, on my knees weeping, clawing at some, shouting, spitting, total irreverance at others. This infuriated me, a new rage came out. Then, finally through the rage a wellspring of tears in the purest form. I finally surrendered.
The day before, up at the meditation teachers house, she asked me who I thought God was? As always I felt as though it were a test. She was very loving, kind, patient. I felt embarrassed to answer, if somehow my answer would be wrong. That would be a very common theme in my life. I thought I was supposed to have some very magical, mystical, deep answer. In a very small voice as I stood outside, as The Wind blew..... I said- The Wind.
That has always been my feeling of God. Always as far back as a child, that has been what has comforted me, something I have understood, what has always brought me great joy. From that moment on I accepted that side of myself- and The Wind. Later I learned that is God, another word for him.... The Wind, my heart always knew, I just never trusted it.
As I sit writing this, it has been difficult to appreciate the lessons learned to bring me back to me..... to The Wind. No matter how many seminars, classes, places I have gone and will continue on,
this one was different, my very first one on one for such an extended period of time.
I had done many group sessions, regular hour therapy, but this just didn't stop. It allowed me to really dig in, time to work it out. He was the disciplinarian father, one I didn't understand and was having no part of. I fought with my life.... only in this moment writing this do I get it. Yes, he was an ass, rough, but there was no way around it with me. I had no respect. Zero. He knew it- I had to let go of my mothers view of men. My shame was unbearable- then kindness for me finally shone thru, humanity for me. I was a caged animal... by my choice. I wanted to be free, and I went to any means for my freedom. I have no regrets, my husband and son, all the men I love and respect deserved no less than me healing this side of me. Letting go of the painful female side as well, but the disrespect I was taught about males- I pray forgivable. I will work on this for my lifetime.
What I love and appreciate about my partner, my husband, my love. His trust and faith in me, even what would seem to others absolutely absurd, was right for me, he trusted me. That has been our marriage through it all, forgiveness, faith in one another, much laughter, taking leaps. Many a leap was taken early in his career, while others said why would you do that, ( with his risky choices... entertainment )just play it safe- teaching would be a good position, just stick to it. It was good for him, it is wonderful, but he wanted something different-in addition to.
We have blended beautifully the best parts of ourselves, to date. His with the financial aspect, mine with family, emotional, spiritual for us. We will ready ourselves over the next year or so to blend again, in a new way... one we haven't yet explored. This excites us both, to see what we have learned along the way. Dan Folgelberg has been singing in my ear, his music gives me hope, fills my heart with so much love. He is singing, " There's a place in the world for a gambler"
"And he sees, oh yes he sees, oh yes he sees. There's a song in the heart of a woman, that only the truest of loves can release, set it free, oh set it free. There's a a light in the depth of your darkness, there's a calm of the eye of every storm, let it shine, oh let it shine." Today I am proud of my work. The Wind and Me.
about maes
Blue Eye Shadow and Gladys Kravitz
I should have known as I heard those words ringing in my ears.
It couldn't, wouldn't and wasn't going to be good by any stretch of the imagination. Baby on my hip, a four year old tightly gripping my hand, down the steps, slowly, s-l-o-w-l-y we go.
"Oh, the neighbor seems nice, I think you will get along great, and your kids are about the same age,"the realtor belted out over and over. Hmmm. Leaning, slumped over the wall between our two houses... there she blew, "Blue Eye Shadow."The name came a little later, I will admit, but the picture of her remained in my mind, right there .... instantly.Tight perm, ungodly amount of blue eye shadow, and some sort of shiftette rig I had not seen in some time, decade? (This does put a smile on my face as I write, my typing seems to have picked up, second cup of java didn't hurt either.) She started the litany of rules -what we could do together. Was the room spinning? Wait we are outdoors, was that the sky spinning? We had just moved in and all I thought was whoa..... and get me out of here. On the other side was another interesting gal. No, I am kidding. Before we even moved in, a war had begun with some of the other neighbors and this doll.
(Okay, I am laughing again.) I have to just jump in..... this woman was your nightmare from hell-petitions for this, petitions for that. She started a war with the neighbor behind us, so the fence surrounding our property became a war between them, before we ever got there. ( We would have never moved in had there not been a fence- being a very busy street, two small children in tow)
When it came time to sell, moving along little doggie- I no longer cared anymore- she literally put her foot in our front door, blocking me from closing it. I'd had enough, good girl could take no more. She simply wouldn't leave- I tried slamming the door on her foot, and very loudly stated, "Get out of my house Gladys Kravitz" ( Nosy neighbor from Bewitched) Ray and the kids were in the background just bewildered that mama had just gone wild on our neighbor, "Gladys Kravitz." She no longer knew what to do, I was even shocked by myself, enough was enough, and off she finally went.... silent, mouth agape. This beast would roam the hood, day or night clipboard in hand, looking for infractions to take to the City Council Meetings- each and every week. If someone parked their RV- even in their own driveway, she would call the Sheriff. She would look up what Code it violated, yep she was a Peach, you might say Belle of The Ball. Oh they knew "Gladys", at the Council meetings....knew her well. Probably needed a flask to get them through, probably passed it around.
Ray and I would sit on the Patio at night when we knew she was listening....meaning always. I would"talk" about how great it was "Swinging", loved all the partners we had, appreciated in particular he didn't mind I swung both ways.... I said anything and everything, with not a crack in my voice. He would respond with how much he enjoyed my way of living, that it was just right. We should try more things, and invite different couples and people over. We could practically hear her excitable breathing, then we would go in the house and chuckle, we knew she hung on every word we said. She was that secret voyeur kind.... stirred up trouble, but thought she was really hearing "the goods " on us. I am sure she did hear some interesting stuff, knowing the things we say and don't think about.
Ray made up stories far better than mine, such a great story teller- always has been. I'm pretty boring, it's his delivery... just dry, which makes it even funnier, I had a hard time not laughing very hard. I would go inside- see her- perched- waiting on her back steps to hear more.
We had no privacy on either side--- with huge backyards and neighbors into watching what anyone was doing. Good times.
On Tuesday nights I would babysit so "The Shadow" and Hubby could go to rehearsals for "Bells" at Church. I think she would put on a little fancier frock, get a little dolled up. I dreaded Tuesday nights.... the only thing that got me through it- she had enormous amounts of candy and sweets in the house. She was forever on Weight Watchers, yet had so much sugar and junk food in the house, I was in heaven. I would put the kids to bed, call Ray ( next door) bitching my head off about being next door... why wasn't he? while eating massive amounts of candy, then repositioning the rest of the stash so she wouldn't notice what I had eaten. Soon enough, I was high as a kite from the sugar- all was well.
That is how I would get through Tuesday Nights at Blue Eye Shadows. The only reason I would do it,
we could go out on Saturday Nights....she would babysit. One time when Katie was under two, ( near Christmas time) she got into Blue Eye Shadows candy bowl on her coffee table, what child wouldn't? This infuriated Blue..... she had to let me know... Katie was not going with the program.
Her son used to walk into our house throughout the years- no knocking, just walk in, sit down, ask what was to eat, what's for dessert, etc. He'd walk in the back yard, steal things, that is why it was so funny,"The rules". Always rules upon rules upon rules.... only during breakfast this morning, talking to Ray did I even remember all of this. Blue Eye Shadow, condensed by Ray- to simply"Shadrack", had become our CPA. She would gossip about other neighbors, peoples finances, judging how they lived, etc.We definitely were not living the way she thought appropriate by any stretch, now she knew our finances! At this point now she had simply become 'The Rack"
Ray and I are not fighters on the whole- this is one area where it was very uncomfortable...."The Rack"... not because she was sporting one, trust me -Ray's name for her.
Ray was asking me where all the tax stuff was this morning, that is why I remembered.The interesting thing living next door to her, all the rules, and I thought I was supposed to follow them to be good. Sandwiched between two complete fear based gals.... which only now am I identifying, it was a rough ride. I learned a lot about who I was becoming, letting go of my own fears. Still in my twenties, a young mother, just trying to find my way. Moving on to the street we are now on.... almost thirteen years later, again have learned some good sized lessons. When we moved in to the house we now reside in, we were in an extremely quiet place in our lives. There was no one that we could say to, "Hey look at this house we just bought," no one to bounce it off before we purchased it. I wanted the house simply because it reminded me of "The Brady Bunch", right down to the cul de sac. It was a few notches above a tear down when we bought it, had we thought about it we wouldn't have I am sure. Thirteen years later, putting our heart and souls into it, it has served us well and I am grateful. We have watched our children grow, prosper, there has been deep love in this home. I am getting ready to let go once again - I can feel it, move on, get ready for another adventure, Ray as well. We have grown, learned, just as we have stripped away so much with this house, applied many coats of new paint, life to this house, so too with ourselves. This house has been painful, and a great blessing at the same time. Without the contrast of Blue Eye Shadow and Gladys Kravitz- thinking about them today, I wouldn't be able to look back and see how far I have come. So many years of quiet up against these beautiful foothills, I have found my voice.
It couldn't, wouldn't and wasn't going to be good by any stretch of the imagination. Baby on my hip, a four year old tightly gripping my hand, down the steps, slowly, s-l-o-w-l-y we go.
"Oh, the neighbor seems nice, I think you will get along great, and your kids are about the same age,"the realtor belted out over and over. Hmmm. Leaning, slumped over the wall between our two houses... there she blew, "Blue Eye Shadow."The name came a little later, I will admit, but the picture of her remained in my mind, right there .... instantly.Tight perm, ungodly amount of blue eye shadow, and some sort of shiftette rig I had not seen in some time, decade? (This does put a smile on my face as I write, my typing seems to have picked up, second cup of java didn't hurt either.) She started the litany of rules -what we could do together. Was the room spinning? Wait we are outdoors, was that the sky spinning? We had just moved in and all I thought was whoa..... and get me out of here. On the other side was another interesting gal. No, I am kidding. Before we even moved in, a war had begun with some of the other neighbors and this doll.
(Okay, I am laughing again.) I have to just jump in..... this woman was your nightmare from hell-petitions for this, petitions for that. She started a war with the neighbor behind us, so the fence surrounding our property became a war between them, before we ever got there. ( We would have never moved in had there not been a fence- being a very busy street, two small children in tow)
When it came time to sell, moving along little doggie- I no longer cared anymore- she literally put her foot in our front door, blocking me from closing it. I'd had enough, good girl could take no more. She simply wouldn't leave- I tried slamming the door on her foot, and very loudly stated, "Get out of my house Gladys Kravitz" ( Nosy neighbor from Bewitched) Ray and the kids were in the background just bewildered that mama had just gone wild on our neighbor, "Gladys Kravitz." She no longer knew what to do, I was even shocked by myself, enough was enough, and off she finally went.... silent, mouth agape. This beast would roam the hood, day or night clipboard in hand, looking for infractions to take to the City Council Meetings- each and every week. If someone parked their RV- even in their own driveway, she would call the Sheriff. She would look up what Code it violated, yep she was a Peach, you might say Belle of The Ball. Oh they knew "Gladys", at the Council meetings....knew her well. Probably needed a flask to get them through, probably passed it around.
Ray and I would sit on the Patio at night when we knew she was listening....meaning always. I would"talk" about how great it was "Swinging", loved all the partners we had, appreciated in particular he didn't mind I swung both ways.... I said anything and everything, with not a crack in my voice. He would respond with how much he enjoyed my way of living, that it was just right. We should try more things, and invite different couples and people over. We could practically hear her excitable breathing, then we would go in the house and chuckle, we knew she hung on every word we said. She was that secret voyeur kind.... stirred up trouble, but thought she was really hearing "the goods " on us. I am sure she did hear some interesting stuff, knowing the things we say and don't think about.
Ray made up stories far better than mine, such a great story teller- always has been. I'm pretty boring, it's his delivery... just dry, which makes it even funnier, I had a hard time not laughing very hard. I would go inside- see her- perched- waiting on her back steps to hear more.
We had no privacy on either side--- with huge backyards and neighbors into watching what anyone was doing. Good times.
On Tuesday nights I would babysit so "The Shadow" and Hubby could go to rehearsals for "Bells" at Church. I think she would put on a little fancier frock, get a little dolled up. I dreaded Tuesday nights.... the only thing that got me through it- she had enormous amounts of candy and sweets in the house. She was forever on Weight Watchers, yet had so much sugar and junk food in the house, I was in heaven. I would put the kids to bed, call Ray ( next door) bitching my head off about being next door... why wasn't he? while eating massive amounts of candy, then repositioning the rest of the stash so she wouldn't notice what I had eaten. Soon enough, I was high as a kite from the sugar- all was well.
That is how I would get through Tuesday Nights at Blue Eye Shadows. The only reason I would do it,
we could go out on Saturday Nights....she would babysit. One time when Katie was under two, ( near Christmas time) she got into Blue Eye Shadows candy bowl on her coffee table, what child wouldn't? This infuriated Blue..... she had to let me know... Katie was not going with the program.
Her son used to walk into our house throughout the years- no knocking, just walk in, sit down, ask what was to eat, what's for dessert, etc. He'd walk in the back yard, steal things, that is why it was so funny,"The rules". Always rules upon rules upon rules.... only during breakfast this morning, talking to Ray did I even remember all of this. Blue Eye Shadow, condensed by Ray- to simply"Shadrack", had become our CPA. She would gossip about other neighbors, peoples finances, judging how they lived, etc.We definitely were not living the way she thought appropriate by any stretch, now she knew our finances! At this point now she had simply become 'The Rack"
Ray and I are not fighters on the whole- this is one area where it was very uncomfortable...."The Rack"... not because she was sporting one, trust me -Ray's name for her.
Ray was asking me where all the tax stuff was this morning, that is why I remembered.The interesting thing living next door to her, all the rules, and I thought I was supposed to follow them to be good. Sandwiched between two complete fear based gals.... which only now am I identifying, it was a rough ride. I learned a lot about who I was becoming, letting go of my own fears. Still in my twenties, a young mother, just trying to find my way. Moving on to the street we are now on.... almost thirteen years later, again have learned some good sized lessons. When we moved in to the house we now reside in, we were in an extremely quiet place in our lives. There was no one that we could say to, "Hey look at this house we just bought," no one to bounce it off before we purchased it. I wanted the house simply because it reminded me of "The Brady Bunch", right down to the cul de sac. It was a few notches above a tear down when we bought it, had we thought about it we wouldn't have I am sure. Thirteen years later, putting our heart and souls into it, it has served us well and I am grateful. We have watched our children grow, prosper, there has been deep love in this home. I am getting ready to let go once again - I can feel it, move on, get ready for another adventure, Ray as well. We have grown, learned, just as we have stripped away so much with this house, applied many coats of new paint, life to this house, so too with ourselves. This house has been painful, and a great blessing at the same time. Without the contrast of Blue Eye Shadow and Gladys Kravitz- thinking about them today, I wouldn't be able to look back and see how far I have come. So many years of quiet up against these beautiful foothills, I have found my voice.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
My Raymond
I was thinking about what it takes to move forward. The fortitude, the drive, just doing it. This story is dedicated to my husband, my hero my Raymond. There are many choices, many roads we can all take, every day. We are presented with many forks in the road, which one will we take? When I feel like giving up, am fearful, I think of my husband. Just as a love song is written with great passion, so beats my heart in this story. I know from living with him day in and day out, what it has taken for him to rise, continue to face his demons, his fears. His father was an amazing artist, who loved planes and trains. Ray's brother fell in love with planes, and interestingly enough, travels non stop on them. I guess he chose that part of Al Spencer's legacy. I need to find a legacy here in all of this heartache. Ray fell in love with trains, his fathers passion as well. Ray's father, a boy from Ohio( his father an engineer for the railroad),wanted his boy to become a baseball player. This young man had dreams, desires of his own in this rough steel mill town. He loved drama, art, which mystified his father. In his teenage years, his mother died, and was sent away to live with relatives. Ray's father went to college, joined the Army, soon after met his mother and they nestled in a small community in Southern California -Pasadena above the Rose Bowl. His mother, from a small town in Nebraska, so the Ohio boy and Nebraska girl were figuring it out together. The home was a very modest one, neighborhood great for raising children. Ray's brother Jeff was the first to come, then Ray less than three years later. Ray's father began to have some success with art, but what came along with it was unexpected stress. Keeping up with the Jone's, this is something both were ill prepared for. Ray's father, now wandering, stumbling around the neighborhood drunk, mama finally saying enough by Ray's teenage years. How quickly this picture perfect image disintegrated, the family poised in front of Pop's Model T- now Pop is propped in front of bottle after bottle of booze in the garage, his new oasis.
During this time, Jeff, I suppose to escape some of this madness, had gone deep into motor cross, bikes, anything to get away from home and Ray drawing, art, escape. Around aged twelve, Papa Spencer was gone- so was the money. Mama Spencer panicked, and the welfare check became Spencer households god. If a car no longer worked, it would be abandoned roadside, and that was that. Growing up, Ray's dad literally used a white glove to inspect cleaning, so this renegade behavior was new it was now survival. The two boys could not relate to one another.....
Having their family become so public, but not for anything notable, just shame. Stumbling drunks, fighting,welfare checks, house literally falling apart. It could not be hidden, the pink elephant was in the hood and it was them. Mama Spencer would only amplify things by becoming more eccentric, feathered hats, feathered boas, extremely erratic behavior that would, by the boys teen years have them wincing. Fancy dresses she would buy, knowing full well she could never pay for- always making deals she could never close,someone else was going to pay, more than likely her two teen boys. I understand my husband more and more now as I write this. He put his toys away so long ago, his favorites being trains. Everything he loved was sold, bartered or simply taken away. Even talking about the day his father left, " I told you," or "What do you want to bring that up for?"would be the words he heard from his mother. By the time Ray turned about fifteen, somewhere in Germany, a boy would be competing in the Olympics for bicycling. That boy would be his brother, Jeff- a lone eighteen year old. I am proud of these two brothers coming out of this household.
By the time Ray was thirty five he lost both parents. His father, dying homeless in Central Park near the Zoo. Ray never saw or spoke to his father again, after seventh grade. We have yet to go back to New York to visit his grave. His brother told us where it is- it will be time when it is time. We have gone back to Ohio, to see Grandpa Spencer's grave, and Nebraska for Grandpa Petersen. His father's wound is the deepest - it will take some time. Ray's Mother's ashes were sprinkled over the ocean by the Neptune society.The house they grew up in was torn down when Katie was a baby, a beautiful new one built in it's place. I am sure whoever lives there is enjoying their home, it looks so peaceful now. Occasionally we take walks by, Ray reminiscing about the old hood, his friends," Dennis The Mennis" childhood he had. I am happy he was able to fulfill so many of his dreams. He did not let anything stop him.... one dream wanting to going to Art Center- he took another route and became a teacher there. With Disney, I did not realize how long it took for someone to even look his art portfolio. He was persistent, every week, just as he had done with other jobs, over and over again. Making cold calls, one year, two years, until finally...... it happened.
He is quiet, determined, doesn't let setbacks stand in his way, they become his challenge. He is the man I love, respect, with such vision. I don't know what he is working on most of the time. "Oh, I've been working on this for three years, " he'll say. That would be Thunder Mountain- I hadn't even seen any of the stuff until maybe six weeks ago, I had no idea. These breathtaking sketches, seriously? I say to him," Have I ever been on Thunder Mountain?" "Yes honey," he says so patiently. "Oh."That is my love..... that is my sweet darling, the man I am so proud of for so many reasons. Not just for surviving, thriving, inspiring so many. Inspiring me, making me want to become more, that is my Raymond.
During this time, Jeff, I suppose to escape some of this madness, had gone deep into motor cross, bikes, anything to get away from home and Ray drawing, art, escape. Around aged twelve, Papa Spencer was gone- so was the money. Mama Spencer panicked, and the welfare check became Spencer households god. If a car no longer worked, it would be abandoned roadside, and that was that. Growing up, Ray's dad literally used a white glove to inspect cleaning, so this renegade behavior was new it was now survival. The two boys could not relate to one another.....
Having their family become so public, but not for anything notable, just shame. Stumbling drunks, fighting,welfare checks, house literally falling apart. It could not be hidden, the pink elephant was in the hood and it was them. Mama Spencer would only amplify things by becoming more eccentric, feathered hats, feathered boas, extremely erratic behavior that would, by the boys teen years have them wincing. Fancy dresses she would buy, knowing full well she could never pay for- always making deals she could never close,someone else was going to pay, more than likely her two teen boys. I understand my husband more and more now as I write this. He put his toys away so long ago, his favorites being trains. Everything he loved was sold, bartered or simply taken away. Even talking about the day his father left, " I told you," or "What do you want to bring that up for?"would be the words he heard from his mother. By the time Ray turned about fifteen, somewhere in Germany, a boy would be competing in the Olympics for bicycling. That boy would be his brother, Jeff- a lone eighteen year old. I am proud of these two brothers coming out of this household.
By the time Ray was thirty five he lost both parents. His father, dying homeless in Central Park near the Zoo. Ray never saw or spoke to his father again, after seventh grade. We have yet to go back to New York to visit his grave. His brother told us where it is- it will be time when it is time. We have gone back to Ohio, to see Grandpa Spencer's grave, and Nebraska for Grandpa Petersen. His father's wound is the deepest - it will take some time. Ray's Mother's ashes were sprinkled over the ocean by the Neptune society.The house they grew up in was torn down when Katie was a baby, a beautiful new one built in it's place. I am sure whoever lives there is enjoying their home, it looks so peaceful now. Occasionally we take walks by, Ray reminiscing about the old hood, his friends," Dennis The Mennis" childhood he had. I am happy he was able to fulfill so many of his dreams. He did not let anything stop him.... one dream wanting to going to Art Center- he took another route and became a teacher there. With Disney, I did not realize how long it took for someone to even look his art portfolio. He was persistent, every week, just as he had done with other jobs, over and over again. Making cold calls, one year, two years, until finally...... it happened.
He is quiet, determined, doesn't let setbacks stand in his way, they become his challenge. He is the man I love, respect, with such vision. I don't know what he is working on most of the time. "Oh, I've been working on this for three years, " he'll say. That would be Thunder Mountain- I hadn't even seen any of the stuff until maybe six weeks ago, I had no idea. These breathtaking sketches, seriously? I say to him," Have I ever been on Thunder Mountain?" "Yes honey," he says so patiently. "Oh."That is my love..... that is my sweet darling, the man I am so proud of for so many reasons. Not just for surviving, thriving, inspiring so many. Inspiring me, making me want to become more, that is my Raymond.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Shorn Sheep
It seemed like such a smart thing to do at the time. All three of us could get in at the same time, must be heaven sent. My oldest sister's friend told her about some place in Hollywood or thereabouts where we could be hair models, get our hair cut for free. Didn't have to ask us twice. The thought of going to "Lee's," the lady my mom had been going to for years, and lets just say gave one fine mens cut on young ladies. She gave my mom's 'do some giant bounce in the front. Her husband Ken used to snarl around when we walked in the door. Had himself one mighty hog parked out yonder. They had three boys that always looked like they were ready to start fires and do weird things to neighbors.
Working with curly hair is an art. Of course when it is wet your hair is straight. When that sucker starts drying, whoa- and if someone does not catch on how to cut that thing, double whoa for your mane. Well, this was some kind of fancy schmancy salon, we were in good hands.
So, back at this salon, it may have been something like Vidal Sasoon, we were going to look like movie stars, we couldn't wait to see. The oldest one goes first as the middle one and I sit and wait. A little time passes and she comes out. She is just standing there waiting to see what we thought of her new 'do. Middle one and I just stare and each other and don't say anything." Cute." As always in any other story I have told, my lip starts quivering and I feel a big laugh wanting to escape the premises. She looks at me like "don't even- I will kick your ass so hard." "No really, it's so cute." Now, nowhere has it dawned on me that I have to get my 'do done , by whoever did this "cute " job on her. It is in the shape of a bowl, with two sausage plopped on either side. She came in with shoulder length brown hair. It was now bleached some orange tinty looking yellow with so much hairspray veneered on it to prop the sausage curls for some spring. I can't contain myself. It is now my turn, and I am watching as my hair gets molded and sculpted into this flat plastered thing to my head. My hair is super wavy, and it is pushed into my skull in the most unattractive way, shorned closely with so much hairspray. I knew I was going to hear "cute" next. The middle one eventually comes out. I can't even type right now reliving this story. She has a very wild fro on her, but hairsprayed and partially straightened. I'm guessing someones arm got tired? The joy was in her expression. We all just stared at each other walking towards the door, all smiles when asked how we like our do's. "Oh yes, we like them very much, thank you". We were nothing if not polite. Lee's house was suddenly starting to looking very appealing. We got out into the parking lot, into the light of day.... and really got a gander.
At first we were so horrified, but then after calming down- we started laughing so hard we could not control ourselves. Good times :)
Working with curly hair is an art. Of course when it is wet your hair is straight. When that sucker starts drying, whoa- and if someone does not catch on how to cut that thing, double whoa for your mane. Well, this was some kind of fancy schmancy salon, we were in good hands.
So, back at this salon, it may have been something like Vidal Sasoon, we were going to look like movie stars, we couldn't wait to see. The oldest one goes first as the middle one and I sit and wait. A little time passes and she comes out. She is just standing there waiting to see what we thought of her new 'do. Middle one and I just stare and each other and don't say anything." Cute." As always in any other story I have told, my lip starts quivering and I feel a big laugh wanting to escape the premises. She looks at me like "don't even- I will kick your ass so hard." "No really, it's so cute." Now, nowhere has it dawned on me that I have to get my 'do done , by whoever did this "cute " job on her. It is in the shape of a bowl, with two sausage plopped on either side. She came in with shoulder length brown hair. It was now bleached some orange tinty looking yellow with so much hairspray veneered on it to prop the sausage curls for some spring. I can't contain myself. It is now my turn, and I am watching as my hair gets molded and sculpted into this flat plastered thing to my head. My hair is super wavy, and it is pushed into my skull in the most unattractive way, shorned closely with so much hairspray. I knew I was going to hear "cute" next. The middle one eventually comes out. I can't even type right now reliving this story. She has a very wild fro on her, but hairsprayed and partially straightened. I'm guessing someones arm got tired? The joy was in her expression. We all just stared at each other walking towards the door, all smiles when asked how we like our do's. "Oh yes, we like them very much, thank you". We were nothing if not polite. Lee's house was suddenly starting to looking very appealing. We got out into the parking lot, into the light of day.... and really got a gander.
At first we were so horrified, but then after calming down- we started laughing so hard we could not control ourselves. Good times :)
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