The Flipside

 

As I have gotten older, I have amassed some knowledge about life, memories, thoughts, and feelings. While some of these things may be universal, it also may be that some are just personal to me. One of the things I have really come to understand though is.....everything has a flipside, a positive and a negative, a good vs. evil. 

When speaking about memories, I think this is more universal. Often when we look back, depending on how our pasts unfolded, we seem to focus on just the positive or just the negative, especially the further away that past becomes. If we hold deep-seated anger about the past, then often, the negative is all we remember, whether the negative events happened only once or if they happened hundreds of times. The same holds true for the positive. Someone could have had a horrific childhood, but their memory of that time, could be wrapped around just one or two positive events and their brain has literally blocked out all of the negative. This is why two kids growing up in the same house, with the same parents, siblings, etc can have such different overall impressions of their pasts and wonder if they even grew up in the same house after all. 

I have been writing about my past and this very thought process has been making me think much harder about my past than I really care to, but if I am going to give a clear and accurate picture of things and how they made me, well.....me, then a little thought and introspection are necessary. 

After focusing on the "horrible house," and looking through some pictures, other memories began resurfacing. In all honesty, what I wrote about the house was absolutely accurate (as I remember it from my childish viewpoint), but as I was writing it, I was also feeling a lot of anger. In truth, it was not a good time in my young life, but it was also the beginning of all the issues that I would have with my dad for the rest of our time together. 

At the time I was writing about the horrible house, my brother was in the last days of his life and even though I was trying to deny the fact, my heart knew. There had been so much time missed between my brother and me for many reasons, but most of them boiled down to my dad and his constant pitting us against each other our entire lives. My emotions were getting big and my anger was simmering and because of this, I think my focus in the past was on the beginning of what in a lot of ways was the start of our unhealthy family dynamic and the slow and gradual destruction of my sibling relationship. 

So looking back, I have been trying to refocus my view during the time at that house and see if anything positive came from it. Wouldn't you know it, with my anger if not somewhat gone, then tightly held in check, there were other memories and today that is what this blog is about. It is to remind myself that no situation is all good or all bad. There is always a little of both sprinkled in. Sometimes when you are focused on the anger, the negativity weighs heavier on your memory than the positive, but if you look hard enough, the positive is always present in one way or another. In other words, to tell a fair and balanced story, you must be fair and balanced with the facts. 

When we moved into that house. The house with a brick-enclosed front patio, the fireplace, and the big backyard, I am not really sure what I thought. It was the first "house" that I had ever lived in and bonus, it wasn't just me and my mom. We now had Bob, my new dad. We were going to be a family. 

At my young age, I am not sure how much I knew or understood about the world, but I did realize that most kids, especially in that day and time, had both a mom and dad living with them, and now I was one of the normal kids. I now had it all. I had the house, the mom and dad, and I also had my new dad's extended family. Through this marital joining, I gained a grandma, grandpa, aunt, uncle, and cousin. Suddenly this little girl who had moved a lot and spent a great deal of time with babysitters had a real home and family complete with bonus members. 

My grandmother did not welcome me with open arms. Looking back, I think the reason was that my dad was a mama's boy and she saw my mom and by extension, me, as a threat or at the very least, competition for the attention of her son. My grandpa on the other hand was the most amazing man I have ever known. He was a big man, who by this time was retired from the railroad, and I loved him and he loved me, the first moment we met. I would follow him around his yard as he worked and puttered and he would tell me the most amazing stories of his life. I definitely won the jackpot with him. 

My new aunt (May) was a tough nut to crack or figure out. In all fairness, her husband (Eldrid) had mental health issues from his time in the war. He had been one of those who had been in the Bataan Death March. He had survived the grueling march and the horrific torture that went with it, but the price of serving his country and undergoing such gruesome conditions was to spend a great deal of the rest of his life, in and out of mental hospitals. May, for all intense purposes became a single mom, raising their daughter, all the while dealing with his erratic behavior and hospital stays. 

May was a true Oklahoma beauty, but the situation that the war left my uncle in, caused her to rebel, be angry and if my recollections are true, become a little unstable herself. Mom and I came into the family when things were really rough for May, and to her, I am sure we looked like competition for her parent's attention, especially me, as I was told by both her and my grandmother on more than one occasion that I was NOT a part of the family. Her daughter Nancy was the only granddaughter. 

May was an interesting person right up until her death. Eldrid on the other hand, was a kind man for all that he had gone through. I wasn't around him a lot, but I do remember when I was, he was so kind and nice to me. I really liked him and to this day I can remember him picking me up and feeling like I was so high in the air as he was about 6' 5".  The memory still makes me smile. 

Eldrid and May had one daughter. Nancy was about six years older than me. Until I came along, she was not only an only child at home but also an only child in the family. I changed that for her and for both of us, being cousins became a bonding experience. 

Nancy was a quiet girl, who was artistic and studious. She read a lot and stayed pretty much to herself. When I came into the picture, I gained not only another ally in the family but also someone who doted on me and actually enjoyed spending time with me. We had great adventures and she constantly gave me stuff that she had either outgrown (like her original Barbies, with clothes, cases, and a car) or things she had made. One time she constructed an entire village out of cardboard. I loved that village and played with it often. 

At my house, just across the street and back a ways was a creek. Nancy would come and take me walking and we go to that creek. We would walk for hours and Nancy would talk to me about the rocks, the plants, and the insects we ran into. We even found crawdads in the creek. It was always fun to be with Nancy and she never made me feel like I didn't belong. 

The horrible house also afforded me something that I had never had before. I had my own bedroom. During the day, I would play for hours with Barbies, my village, and all my toys. I had learned early on to not only play by myself but to also enjoy it. Don't get me wrong though, there were also friends. 

My neighborhood had a fair amount of kids, I am sure the fact that we lived within a block from a school helped that along. For some reason, neighborhood kids liked to come to my house and play. I remember one little girl in particular, whose name was Ann. 

Ann lived a block or so away and somehow she and I became friends. Ann was a tomboy who liked to climb trees and play in the mud, but she was also a quiet girl. She never went anywhere though, without her beautiful Collie dog named Bambi. Bambi was an amazing dog and very well-trained. My mom did not allow dogs in the house, so when Ann came over if we went inside, Bambi would lie down and wait at the front door until Ann came out and then the two of them were off again. At the time, Ann was about 5 or 6 years old and she traveled the neighborhood at will with Bambi. I later learned that the true story of Ann was that she was an only child and her mom was sick. I believe I heard that she had Multiple Sclerosis. Ann's parents had gotten Bambi for Ann as a playmate of sorts, but Bambi ended up being her companion, babysitter, and protector all in one. For all of Bambi's gentleness, I would have pitied anyone who ever tried to hurt Ann. 

The horrible house is where I became a big sister. When I was six, my brother Andy came into the world. As stated previously, Andy's first year was a tough one for both him and my mom, but as he grew, I was in love with him. He had a jump seat that Mom put in the kitchen doorway. Andy would jump and jump and then let out belly laughs. I loved his laugh and I would egg his jumping on. 

I also spent a great deal of time in our big empty living room/Andy's playroom with Andy. He knew how to make every inch of space count with his toys, and boy did he have toys, but his favorite toys were always boxes, plastic bowls, and kitchen utensils. Boxes fired his imagination, the kitchen utensils were usually used for drumming on anything that would make noise, and the plastic bowls were.....hats of course. Those bowls ignited and fed a lifelong love of hats for him. He was a goofy boy and I adored him. 

One of my favorite things about that house was its covered back patio. It sat right outside our sliding glass doors connected to our small dining area. We had a big redwood picnic table, and my dad's charcoal grill also sat out there, and there was still room for added furniture if we had any. I loved that patio because I was close to the door should I need to run in (yes, I had fears and phobias at that young age), but the patio was also my special play area. It was my castle, my playhouse, or anything I wanted it to be. I spent hours on that porch. My favorite times though, were when it rained. On rainy days, I would take a blanket out and climb up on the picnic table, cover-up, and watch the rain. It was so calming and peaceful and it cultivated the love of rain that I have to this day. 

In the brief times when my parents were under the same roof, we were very much that late 60s and early 70s stereotypical family. My dad was a Westerns fan and just about every night of the week, there was some form of Western TV show on, so after supper, we gathered in the den around our portable 18" black and white TV (portable meaning it was on a moveable stand) and we would watch Westerns....oh and Carol Burnett. 

In the summer, Dad hosted barbecues and our house would be full of people drinking and eating, and being loud. On the daily, we ate every meal as a family and breakfast was always a ritual. Every breakfast was two pieces of toast and either bacon or sausage. One piece of toast was eaten with either peanut butter and honey or sorghum, and the other was eaten wrapped around the bacon or sausage. The only other breakfast we ever ate was the very rare Ralston and rolled oats. It was some kind of hot breakfast cereal that as I recall was really good but I have no idea what Ralston even is or was. 

In the horrible house, there were good times, new times, and new beginnings. We had holidays and celebrations like my 7th birthday party. I had a few girls over and my mom went out of her way to make that day and that party special. It was. To this day, I remember my little white sleeveless dress, white go-go boots, and my long hair adorned with a top ponytail. I felt so pretty and so special that day. It was an unforgettable memory for me. 

So yeah, that house was horrible, but it was also a place where memories were made and my family was grown. There were days when I was truly happy because my world was small and it didn't take much for me to feel happy. There were also moments when I was scared, unhappy, and angry, but I went with the flow and didn't allow the bad times to shut out the good ones. 

Nothing is all black and white and nothing is all good or bad. There are shades in between that time and current emotions can fade. Perhaps that is why I am finding all of this to some extent quite healing. I am forcing myself to really think about and delve into my own memories. I of course am allowing the knee-jerk memories that easily pop to the surface, but I am also making myself go deeper. I am trying to step outside the memories of a little girl while trying to also think as an adult and to put myself into my parent's shoes. 

I am asking the hard questions about my parents that begin with "Why?" and end with "Who were these people and did I even really know them?" It is easy to lose track of the fact that our parents were human beings and had lives before we even came into the picture. 

Yeah, this whole process gets me up in my feels quite a lot, but it also is making who I am and why I am the way I am, somewhat clearer. 

Thank you for continuing on this journey with me. While I know my life is probably of no great interest to anyone but me, I hope though, that there are things that you as the reader might connect with in your own life. 

My greatest hope for writing all of this, is one, to leave something behind for my kids. My kids know "Mom", but they don't know me, and probably will have no real interest in knowing "me" until after I am gone, and then the questions that they wish they had asked start to surface. Second, I am writing this for myself. I am hoping to find glimpses of myself in these stories and maybe even be able to give myself some grace along the way, for my less-than-stellar life moments. And finally, I am hoping that maybe my story resonates with some of you. Perhaps my experiences are not too far off from some of your own and maybe there is something in my story that you will recognize and maybe even get some healing from.

So.....I think I have said just about all there is to say about the horrible house; the good, the bad, and the ugly. For now, that chapter is closed. 

Until next time.......