bridgesitter
Friday, December 31, 2004
Life's Lessons When You're Six
The apartment building was set up with an adult section and a family section. There was a swimming pool in between and sidewalks that linked the sections. The sidewalks had a small step or two every now and then as they meandered through the complex. This is where I did my roller skating. The fun part was to see how fast I could get going and then leap over the steps without landing on my knees. Sometimes I'd land very graceful, my arms outstretched in triumph, almost like crossing the finish line. Other times though, I was a tangle of legs and arms, usually a raspberry on my chin and blood on my knees I still have plenty of scars to show my failed attempts at this. But I did master it. Being airborne, almost like moving in slow motion, waiting for my metal wheels to come in for a landing was very exciting.
This is also where I learned to swim. My recollection is vague but certain things stand out. The man who taught me to swim was a very large and muscular black man( the reason I mention he was black is because we lived in an all white neighborhood). He held me so I was flush with the water, his arms gently supporting me as he tried to get me to paddle with my feet and cup the water with my hands and push it behind me. That's all I remember about that. But I became an avid swimmer. I think I wrote about that in another blog.
This is where Jim came into our lives. My mother was dating an Italian man, Joe was his name. He used to work for the carnation milk company. I think it was carnation. He used to drive up in his milk truck and bring us ice cream and milk, and always chocolate milk for me. Those orange and cream popsicles. Cottage cheese. I remember he wanted my mother to marry him, but she kept saying no. He wasn't responsible or something.
Yes, Jim walked into our lives, I think he was a more promising suitor. He had a good job, was older more distinguished. I think he had money actually. I remember attending the wedding, in my mind the wedding took place in a school auditorium or something, it seemed they were up on a stage exchanging vows. Probably just a church. Anyway next thing you know we have a moving company, Mayflower, I remember this because the pilgrims came to America in the Mayflower. And we were headed to someplace south called Poway. Jim got a job at General dynamic. He helped make some part of the Apollo space craft. We lived with my aunt and uncle and their six kids, there was 13 of us living in a 4 bedroom house. I have a picture of me at this house trying to ride a bicycle. It's listed under "my bike & me" on my home page. It was very crowded I'm sure, but there were a lot of kids to play with. After a time, I don't know how long we were there, we bought our own home in Poway on a street named Tobiasson. It was a very hectic time. My step dad was kind of an odd character. Now, that's not just my opinion, I heard the neighbors say plenty. He bought a lovely piano for the living room, then he proceeded to change all the light switches in the house. He couldn't tolerate the clicks when he was playing. He really did play beautifully, and I was quite proud of him. I was also feeling pretty happy that I finally had a dad, I didn't have to live with the stigma of being fatherless. Jim couldn't stand alot of things, and we had to change alot of things about the way we lived. I wasn't allowed to eat Cheerios any more, he thought they were reguritated newspaper. So instead I was fed fried eggs everyday. We couldn't get by on just pasta and potatoes either. Everyweek we were subjected to wonderful delicacies like cows tongue, liver, yummy things like that. I tried hiding things under my knife and fork, in my sleeves, he always caught me. No, I still detest tongue and liver, actually I'm pretty much a meatless eater. We always had a disgruntled stepdad at the table. One instance clear in my mind is when my brother David was dished up mashed potatoes and he did the ultimate no no, he put his fork into them facing down. More of a stabbing motion. Next thing, we're playing duck duck goose at the table. My mother, brother and sister were yelling, I was probably sitting there crying silently. Because my sister Laura loved the word "bitchin'" she had to spend alot of her time in her room. But hey, he could play the piano like nobody's business. I tended to leave the door open when he was playing while I roller skated on our driveway. Thinking back I wonder why the noise of my skates didn't bother him.
I didn't realize Jim had a drinking problem until my mom freaked out at him one day. She was yelling at him about "could've started a fire", and things like that. He used to put on one of those long flannel nightshirts for bed everynight, he even had a hat that went with it. Things went on for awhile like this until one day when I was roller skating on the driveway and he was putting things in his car. He had one of those small jobbies, an MG, white convertible, very cute. I was very oblivious to what was going on around me, but it caught my eye that he was putting his stereo into the car, I asked where he was taking it, he replied "it's broken, needs to be fixed". Then he started carrying clothes out and tucking them in his car, again I asked him, "what are you doing with those Jim", which he replied, "they're going to the dry cleaners". Then it was shoes, and on and on until he drove away. I didn't realize I was never going to see him again. I don't remember attending the funeral but I heard the gossip, probably listening at someone' elbow or eavesdropping on my mom. He'd apparently shot himself in the head one day. Much later when we went to his apartment I was stupified to see pictures of naked ladies on his wall, centerfolds I guess is a better term. The chapter of Jim in our lives ended, just like that. Amen.
¶ 12/31/2004 10:10:00 AM 0 comments
Thursday, December 30, 2004
The Picture That's Supposed To Be Here
I tried to get the picture to show. No such luck. I have alot to learn about this blogging business. Anyway the picture of me you'll find under profile. The scowl I'm wearing in the picture I still wear. That's me on the bike, one of the many neighborhood kids with me. This is at my aunt's house in Poway. I thought these hills were pretty large back then. We really didn't get a choice of the bikes we tried to ride, everything was hand me down and pass it around, even my shoes look a bit too big for me.
¶ 12/30/2004 01:03:00 PM 1 comments
¶ 12/30/2004 01:03:00 PM 1 comments
Chasing Ponies
My mind seems to dwell alot lately in the hills of the town where I grew up. I grew up in alot of different towns, but just one keeps seeping into my daily activities. Poway. It's an Indian name. I can't remember what it means now, something about a valley. It was surrounded by small hills, of course when I was little they all seemed rather large to me. The hills were empty except for some large boulders and sage brush. Sometimes I can still smell the sagebrush, but it was the combination of the sage brush, the southern California heat that plays heavily with my mind. Everyday I get these sensations. I think because that is when I remember being happiest in my life. Free in the sense that any child should feel free. I was unencumbered with the worries of the world. I just played happily amongst the hills and boulders. On the hill up behind the houses on our street sat a huge green water tower. Somedays we would bring food and hike up the hill and sit in amongst the trees and look down upon our world. Usually though we played close to the fence line that separated the houses from our hills. I was always wanting to play Indians. Never cowboys, though my friend Kay, she was a cowboy wannabe. I always had moccasins, the kind with the leather sole. The little fringe around the ankle with the leather lace. These were all I wore anywhere. They made a certain sound when they touched the ground where you walked. Where other kids might want taps on there shoes, I preferred the muffled sound of leather. Sitting in a patch of sage brush, I'm sure there were other shrubs, I just don't know what they were, but sitting in nest of bushes sat these huge boulders. They were all different shaped, but all were rounded. The largest one we nicknamed Maya. Maya was the elephant in the Tarzan series. But she was our Maya. She had huge rounded shoulders and her ears hung down the sides so you could sit behind them. I probably spent hours on her. Not always riding, but laying on her back soaking up the warm sun. She held the heat and radiated warmth even when the sun went down. We had made little paths in and around all the boulders and had our little campsites, minus the fire, we gathered our make believe berries and lived a quite and peaceful life. There was a long stretch of road, just a dirt road, and we would run this, slapping our sides and making the sounds of running horses. We were always chasing wild ponies. I remember being able to see these horses, I was always trying to catch the wild palamino. Back and forth we'd run on this path. I loved the sound, I loved the sun and warmth, I loved the sweat that rolled down my back as I ran faster. We could play up there all day, and only when the shadows disappeared and voices from far away would call our names did we go back.
¶ 12/30/2004 09:39:00 AM 0 comments
¶ 12/30/2004 09:39:00 AM 0 comments
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Missing Minnesota
Sometimes I miss Minnesota, of course we haven't been here but for three months. Geez, it's seem a lot longer then that. We left under "extenuating" circumstances, came back here with the hope to start over again. Things didn't go so well when we arrived. The place that I had "secured" for us by answering an on-line ad in this local paper turned out to be another afge "another f---ing growth experience. I think that saying came from one of those twelve step programs. Anyway, we had an afge. While we were in transit, a 1667 mile one, the lady sold the house. Sold the house! We showed up with a 26ft moving van, all the kids and dogs, boyfriends of the kids, I mean we were all there ready to unload. When I knocked on the door, a man answered and explained to me how they had bought the house 3 days before. It's a long story one I don't want to go into. I had already forwarded the mail, I mean I knew what the inside looked like from visiting this ladies site, we talked on the phone 3 or 4 times. I just couldn't believe it. The lady had no scruples. But to bypass all the rest of the story we are settled into a nice little beach cabin, it is little. My daughter has to sleep on the couch, there's only one bedroom. I even had bought dishwashing liquid for my new dishwasher, I haven't had one for over 5 years. Well the bottle sits above my washer and dryer. Someday I think I'll have the chance to use it. But we're pretty content here. We have a wood burning stove, we can hear the buoys out in the ocean when the waves are really turbulent. When we walk down our street a ways we have a very wonderful view. And I'm not far from a huge used book store. Also a bridge. The one I named my blog after. I haven't actually sat on the bridge, but I do like to walk down there and stand and watch the boats come in and out. It's quite a site really because we have the "smallest navigational harbor" in the world, (that's on all the flyers about this town) and the boats have to pass through a narrow passage between rocks and such. Yesterday when I was out walking there was a coast guard helicopter out practicing maneuvers out above the buoy. There have been alot of tourists here lately. Perhaps because it's Christmas vacation, or perhaps to see if the sea has changed. They lined the sea wall taking photo's, looking down at the cliffs. The waves were pretty big and the blow hole was pretty active. I think I started out writing about missing Minnesota and got side tracked again. It happens a lot. I left a good friend when I moved back here. We worked together for a little over a year and we just got a long really well. I don't get along with a lot of people. I just seem to be very aware of games people play. I don't like to waste my time putting up with a bunch of crap from people I don't know. I know I'm burned out. I worked at a very busy convenience store and saw a lot of things and heard a lot of things. My friend, Cheryl, she'd always joke with me, because once I was home you couldn't get me to leave unless I had to work again. We lived out in the country on a nice fenced acre. The river flowed behind our house, and I had a nice flower garden I enjoyed tending. Plus I had all these great dogs. I cover the story of my dogs in another posting. Can't remember which one though. Our house was nothing to brag about, it was a 1967 mobile home. Small also. But it was cozy. Being how old our mobile was it had real wood in it. The shelves in the cupboards were real wood. The paneling was even real wood. It needed work but we were just renting and we had hoped to buy the place and perhaps build a new home. But that didn't work out. Too long of a story. Makes me depressed to write about it. But I did enjoy Minnesota, there were lakes all around us, it was so beautiful. It has a whole different feel to it then the coast. We did have to deal with mosquito's and humidity and wood ticks on the dogs. I guess I mostly miss my friend. She doesn't have a computer so we don't communicate much, but we sneak calls to each other every once in awhile and share a few laughs. Though lately there have been a lot of somber moments on the phone. Her mother was just diagnosed with cancer. Lung cancer, I'm sitting here smoking cigarettes as I write this, but it had already traveled to her brain and spine. It happened so fast. When I was out there we visited all the time because she lived with Cheryl. Now they have hospice set up, family on round the clock watches. It's just so unbelievable. I don't understand why insurance companies won't pay for stop smoking aids. It seems to me they'd save a lot of money if they did. Smoking causes so many health problems. Smoking is more addictive then heroin. It's so hard to quit. Vi, Cheryl's mom, she's still smoking. It's about the only thing she has to look forward to. Cheryl says she gets up in her wheelchair and sits by the window so she can blow her smoke out. I know it's ludicrous, but it's what she wants to do. I made her a pair of fingerless gloves and a nice hat out of an old angora sweater. It actually turned out pretty good. I sent them for Christmas, along with a T-shirt for Cheryl that reads, "because I'm the Queen, that's why". It fits her personality perfectly. She is really a lot of fun. She's part Indian, Ojibwa, she always called me that white girl. Boy she made it clear that she doesn't want to be called white. Cracks me up just thinking about it. Her husband is a full blooded Indian, and she has a son and a daughter, and two grandbabies. Her kids worked at the store as well. One big family. Anyway I've been blabbing for a long time, not even sure if any of this makes any sense. It just feels good to write. I can hear my husband snoring away, my daughter is late coming home and the dogs are splayed out like rugs. It's definitely home. Good night......
¶ 12/29/2004 11:38:00 PM 0 comments
¶ 12/29/2004 11:38:00 PM 0 comments
Asian Holocaust?
I have just sat and viewed 274 photo's on yahoo news. Devastation everywhere. I double-clicked slideshow because I thought I would see pictures of the actual wave, somebody must have taken some pic's of that. But what I saw were photo's of suffering. Unbearable, unmanageable suffering. Bloated bodies, body bags, orphans, crying, weeping and sobbing people. My God, how will they all get through this? I couldn't help but wonder about all the mental health help these people would need, I mean, homelessness, starvation, disease, thirst, and then dealing with PTSD, anxiety, depression. People watching as thousands are put into mass graves, loaded like cord wood into trucks, sounds like something I read about the holocaust. There is no Hitler here, no Stalin, Mussolini. There is no one to express their anger and their grief too. There is no one they can blame. Yet there is the fact that they had no warning system. Will they do the American thing and sue? There were photo's of people watching funeral pyre's. Families watching families go up in smoke, as if they never existed. Pictures of people looking at pictures of the dead. Dead children, how horrible. Looking for there own loved ones and seeing all the others. Who can comfort them? There was a set of photos that showed a man trying to comfort his Thailand girlfriend, a photographer captured many pictures of them. The man tried to hold his girlfriend tight. Trying to hold her together as she was coming apart. There was one photo that struck me as really strange, in the middle of this devastation there was an ariel photo of two people sunbathing on their deck, in the middle of all of this! Perhaps it's no worse then me, just sitting here writing what I'm thinking. Wondering how my family would have survived. I know I would want to find my children quickly, let them know I was alive, they weren't alone. But would I be up to the task? Would I myself be a heap somewhere overcome and terrified? I don' t know. Imagine the World Trade Center magnified many times over, I can't imagine. I wasn't there at the WTC, I just saw the photos on the news, watched as the second plane hit the tower. Thank God there are so many relief organizations out there. So many countries gathering supplies, organizing and doing something to help. What can I do?
¶ 12/29/2004 09:08:00 AM 0 comments
¶ 12/29/2004 09:08:00 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Learning to Blog
Well I've just started my own blog. I'm very new to this, and am not really sure what I'm doing. I've always wanted to be a writer, but this time I might actually write. I have thought of writing since I was a little girl. I've collected books, journals and empty notebooks for as along as I can remember. The only problem with that is I haven't been able to write with a pen as fast as I can type. This is a much more natural approach for me. I've always had lots to say and some say I say it well. We'll see.
The thing that is heavy on my mind tonight is the disaster in Asia. I can't even imagine what the devastation is like. We've never really dealt with anything of this magnitude in the states. We've had our earthquakes, floods, hurricanes and so forth, but to lose over 50,000 people and still counting is mind boggling. That is more then 7 of my town. And how does one go about organizing a clean up, a search and rescue, where would you start? I've read where our seismologists new the tsunami was coming but there was nothing they could do but send messages. There was no advance warning for those countries. They have nothing in place to prevent this kind of disaster. Why does something so horrible have to happen before people take the initiative to do something? They said this area only has earthquakes every hundred years or so. When was the last one?
My daughter worries about catastrophe's, hurricanes, tsunami's, earthquakes, all the other natural disasters that happen. I was able to pick up a flyer about tsunami's today when I went for a walk in town. Living in a coastal town they try to keep warnings posted everywhere about things that can go wrong. A big one is "don't turn your back on the ocean". Where I live large unexpected waves have been known to take children and pets from the beach, also living in a logging area, large logs are known to be floating in and around the waters. Though the waves can pick these logs up so it looks like toothpicks, they can crush you if they roll on you.
I guess I've written enough about that for now. There is still so much on my mind. I guess I will first see what this looks like when it's posted. Very interesting.
¶ 12/28/2004 05:39:00 PM 0 comments
The thing that is heavy on my mind tonight is the disaster in Asia. I can't even imagine what the devastation is like. We've never really dealt with anything of this magnitude in the states. We've had our earthquakes, floods, hurricanes and so forth, but to lose over 50,000 people and still counting is mind boggling. That is more then 7 of my town. And how does one go about organizing a clean up, a search and rescue, where would you start? I've read where our seismologists new the tsunami was coming but there was nothing they could do but send messages. There was no advance warning for those countries. They have nothing in place to prevent this kind of disaster. Why does something so horrible have to happen before people take the initiative to do something? They said this area only has earthquakes every hundred years or so. When was the last one?
My daughter worries about catastrophe's, hurricanes, tsunami's, earthquakes, all the other natural disasters that happen. I was able to pick up a flyer about tsunami's today when I went for a walk in town. Living in a coastal town they try to keep warnings posted everywhere about things that can go wrong. A big one is "don't turn your back on the ocean". Where I live large unexpected waves have been known to take children and pets from the beach, also living in a logging area, large logs are known to be floating in and around the waters. Though the waves can pick these logs up so it looks like toothpicks, they can crush you if they roll on you.
I guess I've written enough about that for now. There is still so much on my mind. I guess I will first see what this looks like when it's posted. Very interesting.
¶ 12/28/2004 05:39:00 PM 0 comments
