We are going to Oahu this year and I wanted to be able to snorkel with Katie and Garett without humiliation...we shall see. There is no way that I am swimming with the dolphins and causing any confusion about which is which.
I have been exercising regularly for 8 weeks now. Everyday I work on another muscle group with weight training and then run and walk. I have not checked my weight because I am a huge chicken.
I feel good, my stomach is making an exit and my flabby arms are getting smaller as well as my fanny and thighs. That is good enough for me right now. If I were to step on the scale and see little difference I would probably cave. Garett , ( my son) is my fitness partner and he keeps me out of sugar trouble ( tough task master ) and keeps me honest which is good. Perhaps lipo is another option if this doesn't work! I am not opposed to a little help from a friendly Plastic Surgeon, if it makes the individual feel better. However, for right now the old fashioned way is doing the trick I do feel better. I have increased my flexibility ,which was sadly waning . I couldn't get down on the floor without hurting and forget trying to get back up..that took concentration. So my joints do not feel stiff any more and that is huge for me. Forget the scale, I am terrified of it..it might as well be a cobra ready to strike.
This stuff takes time and patience and if I can make it through College I can do this,I am in the "zone". I have finally gotten to the place that I miss it, if I forget to exercise.Garett keeps me honest, at the least I walk every day for 35 minutes. The normal routine includes working one muscle group and walking, with a block jog included...I hope it works! ( lipo?) lol.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
He's Getting Older
Every mother knows that the day will come when she has to untie the apron strings and allow her birdie to take a test flight. Well, my smallest bird has done just that. His test flight has begun in a white Camry, yes he is taking his first 2 hour behind the wheel driving lesson.
Garett is my baby, my last born, my third child and my only son. He is cautious about EVERYTHING, gee I had to bribe him to try the monkey bars at 5 years old. Now he is on the public streets in control of a motorized vehicle.
I am from the old school, in the 70's Drivers Training was taught in school and during P.E. These were two pluses, we knew that for 6 weeks we were going to be in a vehicle with three other students and not sweating..unless one of us did something stupid. We had a long trailer that had simulation stations in them. This was set up for 15 students and much like Mario Cart, except with "real" people. Each student was assigned a simulator and 3 days we would be behind the wheel and 2 days we were in the simulator. The class would usually go something like this:
Number 3 turn on your engine
Number 9 you have just run over a child, a bouncing ball usually means a child will follow.
Number 11 you are going 75 in a school zone
Number 6 that is your 4th kill for the day one more and your car will automatically turn off.
Today, these kids don't get the joy of watching for the ball, dog, old lady with the groceries. Oh no, they are picked up in front of "their" house and returned after a 2 hour tour. I am totally grateful to the DMV gods who have saved me from that "first" experience. I think the kid is too!
Garett is my baby, my last born, my third child and my only son. He is cautious about EVERYTHING, gee I had to bribe him to try the monkey bars at 5 years old. Now he is on the public streets in control of a motorized vehicle.
I am from the old school, in the 70's Drivers Training was taught in school and during P.E. These were two pluses, we knew that for 6 weeks we were going to be in a vehicle with three other students and not sweating..unless one of us did something stupid. We had a long trailer that had simulation stations in them. This was set up for 15 students and much like Mario Cart, except with "real" people. Each student was assigned a simulator and 3 days we would be behind the wheel and 2 days we were in the simulator. The class would usually go something like this:
Number 3 turn on your engine
Number 9 you have just run over a child, a bouncing ball usually means a child will follow.
Number 11 you are going 75 in a school zone
Number 6 that is your 4th kill for the day one more and your car will automatically turn off.
Today, these kids don't get the joy of watching for the ball, dog, old lady with the groceries. Oh no, they are picked up in front of "their" house and returned after a 2 hour tour. I am totally grateful to the DMV gods who have saved me from that "first" experience. I think the kid is too!
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Who Was That Masked Woman....
I hardly recognized myself and I was so ticked that I had allowed myself to get that angry. Ok, perhaps I should back up here..I am still muttering so many things to myself at this point.
I am a full time substitute teacher and that should pretty much say it all. I have been in schools that are placed in lock down as a regular routine and I have taught in schools that have made me very grateful for taking that extra quarter of Spanish at the University. None of that prepared me for the sweet country Middle School that my son and grandson graduated from last June. Now I had always been told by the boys about how , " ridiculous, stupid and simply idiotic these kids were " I didn't believe it really. I mean , yes , everyone has fads that they go through as a social group, so wearing girls jeans seems weird for guys, ok and long hair..well I am a 70's child so..big deal. They have no manners, ok certainly there are students that care about their grades and have basic manners that attend this school. Well, I got the call to the Middle School and learned that it would be a multi day assignment, which is always nice . It is close to my home, which was another plus and it was a chance to work with my favorite age of students.
I had five classes with approximately 34 kids each and each class period was 50 minutes long. All of this is pretty standard, get the lesson plan for the day look it over, get the kids and get them going and keep everything on task and answer questions making sure everyone understands the concept and feels confident. I arrived early ( as I always like to do) read through the lesson plan and went out to yard duty and learned that I had bus duty at the end of the day..no problem. Besides the normal rush of talkative girls that rushed the room before school all was pretty normal, then the bell rang.
Not withstanding, sure they all see a substitute and figure easy day, keep her off balance and we won't have time to work..I know the drill. So you need to introduce yourself, set the rules, clearly state the consequences and move forward. Dear Lord...these kids were without a doubt the most disrespectful, obnoxious %@&@^*^@^^@, I have ever been around. Short of tying me up and burning me at the stake, it seemed there was no trick that was not attempted.
What's your name?
Well, is that your first name or your last name?
How many kids do you have?
Do you like dogs?
What kinda music do you like?
Can I sit by......
Why not............
Yeah, why can't he?
All the while they are laughing their .... off as each one sees who can fire their mouths off faster than a high speed machine gun..keeping the ole gal off balance enough that the homework packet and daily work assignment does not make it to their desks and thus avoiding work.
I managed to keep them on task and I was quite proud of myself..that was class number "1". By the time I came back from lunch I had taught 5 classes and was ready to face the class I had been warned about. They were a nightmare, straight from the bowels of hell I am sure. They made class number "1" look like monks who had taken a vow of silence.
Now, there was a time when I was able to connect some pretty powerful adjectives together that could make a sailor blush..not proud of it and it would usually follow an incident where I had attempted to separate my baby toe from it's toe family.."sugar foot" just didn't seem to make it feel better and the other , spoken fast and low, repeated about 40 times seemed to do the trick. I knew it would not be appropriate to bring out the "toe family" list of words, in dealing with the ring leaders of Period 6.
You know, it takes a great deal of restraint and brain smacking to be able to string enough proper adjectives together that will directly impact 13 year- olds. The whole time I am delivering these adjectives I am reminding myself not to use the ones that would have come so easily through my lips. Don't let the "toe family" words out! UGH!!!
You are without a doubt the most ( here we go)
Disrespectful ( check..you're ok)
discourteous ( check... that's ok)
disruptive ( check, check)
blatantly rude ( good)
Individuals that I have ever had the misfortune of meeting in a classroom setting. What makes you think that your behavior is acceptable and would be tolerated?
Whew!! I had done it and with my best ," you are in trouble young lady", look that I could muster. The fellas began to shrink and look dazed and the room became library quiet. Ok, now you have EVERYONE'S attention..you're on! Here COMES.....The Bitch Substitute..... gosh I had not wanted to go there, but there it was.
You will sit down, you will keep your mouths closed unless you have a question pertaining to classwork and you will only speak after you have raised your hand and I have given you permission to speak. Is that perfectly understood? If we cannot abide by these rules, I will not hesitate to remove you from this classroom.
You know some days you just don't want to repeat and this was one of them..did I happen to mention that I just returned from purchasing a broom from Target!
I am a full time substitute teacher and that should pretty much say it all. I have been in schools that are placed in lock down as a regular routine and I have taught in schools that have made me very grateful for taking that extra quarter of Spanish at the University. None of that prepared me for the sweet country Middle School that my son and grandson graduated from last June. Now I had always been told by the boys about how , " ridiculous, stupid and simply idiotic these kids were " I didn't believe it really. I mean , yes , everyone has fads that they go through as a social group, so wearing girls jeans seems weird for guys, ok and long hair..well I am a 70's child so..big deal. They have no manners, ok certainly there are students that care about their grades and have basic manners that attend this school. Well, I got the call to the Middle School and learned that it would be a multi day assignment, which is always nice . It is close to my home, which was another plus and it was a chance to work with my favorite age of students.
I had five classes with approximately 34 kids each and each class period was 50 minutes long. All of this is pretty standard, get the lesson plan for the day look it over, get the kids and get them going and keep everything on task and answer questions making sure everyone understands the concept and feels confident. I arrived early ( as I always like to do) read through the lesson plan and went out to yard duty and learned that I had bus duty at the end of the day..no problem. Besides the normal rush of talkative girls that rushed the room before school all was pretty normal, then the bell rang.
Not withstanding, sure they all see a substitute and figure easy day, keep her off balance and we won't have time to work..I know the drill. So you need to introduce yourself, set the rules, clearly state the consequences and move forward. Dear Lord...these kids were without a doubt the most disrespectful, obnoxious %@&@^*^@^^@, I have ever been around. Short of tying me up and burning me at the stake, it seemed there was no trick that was not attempted.
What's your name?
Well, is that your first name or your last name?
How many kids do you have?
Do you like dogs?
What kinda music do you like?
Can I sit by......
Why not............
Yeah, why can't he?
All the while they are laughing their .... off as each one sees who can fire their mouths off faster than a high speed machine gun..keeping the ole gal off balance enough that the homework packet and daily work assignment does not make it to their desks and thus avoiding work.
I managed to keep them on task and I was quite proud of myself..that was class number "1". By the time I came back from lunch I had taught 5 classes and was ready to face the class I had been warned about. They were a nightmare, straight from the bowels of hell I am sure. They made class number "1" look like monks who had taken a vow of silence.
Now, there was a time when I was able to connect some pretty powerful adjectives together that could make a sailor blush..not proud of it and it would usually follow an incident where I had attempted to separate my baby toe from it's toe family.."sugar foot" just didn't seem to make it feel better and the other , spoken fast and low, repeated about 40 times seemed to do the trick. I knew it would not be appropriate to bring out the "toe family" list of words, in dealing with the ring leaders of Period 6.
You know, it takes a great deal of restraint and brain smacking to be able to string enough proper adjectives together that will directly impact 13 year- olds. The whole time I am delivering these adjectives I am reminding myself not to use the ones that would have come so easily through my lips. Don't let the "toe family" words out! UGH!!!
You are without a doubt the most ( here we go)
Disrespectful ( check..you're ok)
discourteous ( check... that's ok)
disruptive ( check, check)
blatantly rude ( good)
Individuals that I have ever had the misfortune of meeting in a classroom setting. What makes you think that your behavior is acceptable and would be tolerated?
Whew!! I had done it and with my best ," you are in trouble young lady", look that I could muster. The fellas began to shrink and look dazed and the room became library quiet. Ok, now you have EVERYONE'S attention..you're on! Here COMES.....The Bitch Substitute..... gosh I had not wanted to go there, but there it was.
You will sit down, you will keep your mouths closed unless you have a question pertaining to classwork and you will only speak after you have raised your hand and I have given you permission to speak. Is that perfectly understood? If we cannot abide by these rules, I will not hesitate to remove you from this classroom.
You know some days you just don't want to repeat and this was one of them..did I happen to mention that I just returned from purchasing a broom from Target!
Saturday, March 24, 2007
The Fix it Lady
Have you ever seen a problem and felt an overwhelming need to "fix it"? If the answer is yes then we have something in common.
This can be a blessing or a curse depending on who it involves. The other problem is that I don't have the answers most of the time. Therefore, I exhaust myself in research that takes me in many different directions. The local book store, a local expert, an involved third party or someone who has had a similar experience. I glean information from all of the sources and then evaluate, access and implement what I have learned, in other words I move into "Action" mode.
This has been my pattern since I was a youngster, with my childhood friends, classroom situations as a student, personal relationships, and later in life as a wife and mother and even grandmother ( now, that one can get you into some sticky situations). I feel emotional pain when I see that something is not "right", someone is being emotionally hurt, ( heaven help them if it is physical), and when injustice is not corrected.
No, I do not think we should live in a perfect world, however, I do think we should all attempt to do what we can in our own "little corner" of it, to make a difference. I believe this is especially true when it comes to children.
I was blessed with three children and all three are uniquely different and all three have a common thread. My oldest, a delightfully precocious child, is now 31 years of age. She was my
"normal" one, whatever that means. She was a social butterfly in grade school, all the children gravitated towards her and many wanted to be her. She was bright, imaginative, artistic, insightful and very pretty and inside herself she was uncomfortably shy and insecure and hid it well. Teachers were always drawn to her and she was usually the "pet" student. My second, strong of spirit and quite physical, is now 27 years old. She loved to ride her bike, play basketball with neighborhood kids and usually challenged the boys at basketball during recess. On the social circle , she never had a close friend during her school years and she desperately wanted one. She was academically challenged due to several learning disabilities, these were not severe, but they slowed her down.
I jumped in and jumped through every hoop to "fix it", in order to give her a fighting chance. She was tested by the school system and by the time she was in First grade she was receiving all of the extra help, the RSP programs had to offer. Due to the fact I did not have a great understanding of her disabilities, I threw myself into volunteer work in the program. This enabled me to continue the work at home in order to avoid confusion in instruction. Along this journey, I met many other children that simply broke my heart and I worked with them as well. Through these efforts, new volunteer programs were implemented that have provided intervention programs that are still being used today in classroom settings.
My third child is handsome, serious, very literal in his interpretation of his world, and has wonderfully specific interests. He is nearly 16 years old and has Asperger Syndrome. Miss "fix it", wasn't so good at this one. Through trial and error, never giving up the fight, not understanding what I was dealing with, wanting to scream...and not being "that young" any more, my energy was waning . It took 11 blooming years to actually identify what we were dealing with. I felt guilty, helpless, uninformed and desperate to make this right for my son. It is the most painful thing for a parent to watch their child attempt to navigate through their world without the tools to be successful. Socialization is a huge part of our existence. It begins at birth and carries us through preschool, grade school, middle school, high school,college and into our roles as productive adults in our communities. If these skills are not developed we are branded as , indifferent, unfriendly, rude, and one I found particularly interesting..Stepford like. Well, kids with AS, truthfully do appear this way unless they work on these skills. Their perception of the world is a bit different than the "normal" interpretation. It's not their fault, they have to reteach their brain to receive the information, much like learning a foreign language. Actually, for a person with AS they feel like a foreigner in their own environment.
When we meet someone who does not speak our native language we don't shun them, but it does take an effort to communicate. If you care, you learn the language and they learn yours. I have learned that difficulties with language, communication and the ability to properly interpret their meaning stunts the social development of these kids. They don't get the double meanings, the sarcasm and "jokes" that easily, which leaves them appearing " dull", "non engaging" and unable to connect with their peers. The sad part is they want to so badly. They tend to socialize "normally" with those people who have been apart of their environment . They pick up their interpretations and react or attempt to react accordingly. When new stimuli are introduced the first response is to withdraw, regroup and reevaluate and then reason out a response. As a parent this can be excruciating and we can't always "fix it". These situation differ depending on the degree of autism one is dealing with. My son is high functioning and usually appears as a "stuck up asshole" , so I guess for his age that's better than what it could be.
I don't have the answers, God, I wish I did. Parenting is a challenge and sometimes it comes with more challenges than we can handle, mine are minor compared to others. We just have to be willing to step up to the plant and try. As I look at my 3 kids, I see where I have failed and where I should have done things differently. My oldest , the perfect one, has anxiety stress disorder ( probably from mommy trying to "fix" everything), the second had a meltdown at grad school and returned home ( probably from mommy "fixing" ) and the third well...
He begged me to allow him to work on this for one year and try to improve by reading and working on a better understanding of AS. He didn't want to be labeled anymore than he has been. I see him as brave...he has a 3.8 GPA and a few friends. He has lost touch with his best friend and that happens, we are all growing, adolescence is a tough world and sometimes it takes no prisoners. He has found a peaceful place in Choir ( geeky some may say, sissy, some may say) but music knows no language barriers and he hears it and has no problem interpreting its meaning.
Oh, yeah...the music director was my Choral Director in high school, Miss fix it rides again.
This can be a blessing or a curse depending on who it involves. The other problem is that I don't have the answers most of the time. Therefore, I exhaust myself in research that takes me in many different directions. The local book store, a local expert, an involved third party or someone who has had a similar experience. I glean information from all of the sources and then evaluate, access and implement what I have learned, in other words I move into "Action" mode.
This has been my pattern since I was a youngster, with my childhood friends, classroom situations as a student, personal relationships, and later in life as a wife and mother and even grandmother ( now, that one can get you into some sticky situations). I feel emotional pain when I see that something is not "right", someone is being emotionally hurt, ( heaven help them if it is physical), and when injustice is not corrected.
No, I do not think we should live in a perfect world, however, I do think we should all attempt to do what we can in our own "little corner" of it, to make a difference. I believe this is especially true when it comes to children.
I was blessed with three children and all three are uniquely different and all three have a common thread. My oldest, a delightfully precocious child, is now 31 years of age. She was my
"normal" one, whatever that means. She was a social butterfly in grade school, all the children gravitated towards her and many wanted to be her. She was bright, imaginative, artistic, insightful and very pretty and inside herself she was uncomfortably shy and insecure and hid it well. Teachers were always drawn to her and she was usually the "pet" student. My second, strong of spirit and quite physical, is now 27 years old. She loved to ride her bike, play basketball with neighborhood kids and usually challenged the boys at basketball during recess. On the social circle , she never had a close friend during her school years and she desperately wanted one. She was academically challenged due to several learning disabilities, these were not severe, but they slowed her down.
I jumped in and jumped through every hoop to "fix it", in order to give her a fighting chance. She was tested by the school system and by the time she was in First grade she was receiving all of the extra help, the RSP programs had to offer. Due to the fact I did not have a great understanding of her disabilities, I threw myself into volunteer work in the program. This enabled me to continue the work at home in order to avoid confusion in instruction. Along this journey, I met many other children that simply broke my heart and I worked with them as well. Through these efforts, new volunteer programs were implemented that have provided intervention programs that are still being used today in classroom settings.
My third child is handsome, serious, very literal in his interpretation of his world, and has wonderfully specific interests. He is nearly 16 years old and has Asperger Syndrome. Miss "fix it", wasn't so good at this one. Through trial and error, never giving up the fight, not understanding what I was dealing with, wanting to scream...and not being "that young" any more, my energy was waning . It took 11 blooming years to actually identify what we were dealing with. I felt guilty, helpless, uninformed and desperate to make this right for my son. It is the most painful thing for a parent to watch their child attempt to navigate through their world without the tools to be successful. Socialization is a huge part of our existence. It begins at birth and carries us through preschool, grade school, middle school, high school,college and into our roles as productive adults in our communities. If these skills are not developed we are branded as , indifferent, unfriendly, rude, and one I found particularly interesting..Stepford like. Well, kids with AS, truthfully do appear this way unless they work on these skills. Their perception of the world is a bit different than the "normal" interpretation. It's not their fault, they have to reteach their brain to receive the information, much like learning a foreign language. Actually, for a person with AS they feel like a foreigner in their own environment.
When we meet someone who does not speak our native language we don't shun them, but it does take an effort to communicate. If you care, you learn the language and they learn yours. I have learned that difficulties with language, communication and the ability to properly interpret their meaning stunts the social development of these kids. They don't get the double meanings, the sarcasm and "jokes" that easily, which leaves them appearing " dull", "non engaging" and unable to connect with their peers. The sad part is they want to so badly. They tend to socialize "normally" with those people who have been apart of their environment . They pick up their interpretations and react or attempt to react accordingly. When new stimuli are introduced the first response is to withdraw, regroup and reevaluate and then reason out a response. As a parent this can be excruciating and we can't always "fix it". These situation differ depending on the degree of autism one is dealing with. My son is high functioning and usually appears as a "stuck up asshole" , so I guess for his age that's better than what it could be.
I don't have the answers, God, I wish I did. Parenting is a challenge and sometimes it comes with more challenges than we can handle, mine are minor compared to others. We just have to be willing to step up to the plant and try. As I look at my 3 kids, I see where I have failed and where I should have done things differently. My oldest , the perfect one, has anxiety stress disorder ( probably from mommy trying to "fix" everything), the second had a meltdown at grad school and returned home ( probably from mommy "fixing" ) and the third well...
He begged me to allow him to work on this for one year and try to improve by reading and working on a better understanding of AS. He didn't want to be labeled anymore than he has been. I see him as brave...he has a 3.8 GPA and a few friends. He has lost touch with his best friend and that happens, we are all growing, adolescence is a tough world and sometimes it takes no prisoners. He has found a peaceful place in Choir ( geeky some may say, sissy, some may say) but music knows no language barriers and he hears it and has no problem interpreting its meaning.
Oh, yeah...the music director was my Choral Director in high school, Miss fix it rides again.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Summer of 1968
Mrs. Brown You Have a Lovely Daughter...Herman's Hermits
Ferry Cross the Merzie..Jerry and the Pacemakers
Don't Let the Sun Catch You Cry'n...
The summer of 1968, wow...my brother was back from Viet Nam, the other was in Boot Camp at Fort Seel Oklahoma, the other a Junior in High School and on the Varsity Football Team...and I was was going to be a lowly Freshman...I remember it like it was yesterday. If I could only go back for a day, what would I do ?
I think I would say, I love you, more to my mom and I would let her know that I appreciated her. I would tell my brother Gene that I respected his choices and what he had to go through, even if society didn't seem to support his service. I would stand up to my tormentor and no longer be frozen by fear. I would listen to my inner voice. We don't do these things at 13,14, 15,16 because we are too busy living minute by minute and planning the next stupid thing we're going to do...yeah I'm not too old to remember.
I spent the summer babysitting to earn money for school clothes and" spending money" for our summer vacation at Huntington Lake. The kids I watched had a swimming pool. So we spent allot of time by the pool perfecting our tans. The kids next door liked to pop over and cool off and we all took advantage of the fact that the parents of these two great kids owned the 7-11 franchise across the street. So it was a summer of Slurpees, poolside tans and and then off to my favorite vacation spot. My eighth grade boyfriend lived around the corner, my "first" real kiss, and we would hang out and talk about High School and "stuff".
That summer seemed endless, See You in September.. Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, Bobby Vee..Rubber Ball.., songs just seem to transport you back. I'd love to go back..just for a day. I was honestly a pretty good kid. I never got into trouble and was kind of a "goodie two shoes"..just went along doing what was expected of me and if it wasn't expected, I didn't do it.
That's pretty interesting because my brother ( gee..I will never get tired of saying that or take it for granted) and I were talking the other night and he asked me if mom and dad ever mentioned going to College to me. I laughed and said, "no, I was a girl..there was no expectation. Funny that you ask because I just assumed I was the only one that they didn't talk to about it". He quickly said that they never mentioned it to him either, and they would say something about him going to a trade school or something. Expectations, guidelines set by parents are not to be taken lightly, they have a huge impact on how kids view their world and their future.
My hero, had low self- esteem, made mediocre grades and felt like the dummy in our family. Why? He had reading problems and did not perform well in school, (to his amazement he recently discovered he has dyslexia) and my parents, well my mom just figured he was "slow" and would simply have to settle in life with a "trade school" education and perhaps be a mechanic. This was the 50's and my parents were the personification of the teenage wartime romance story. They were completely unprepared for raising children. Gene was successful, inspite of their inability to guide him in the right direction and help him gain the tools he needed to follow his dreams. I must say, my parents did their best and were good parents, simply uninformed and they didn't seek out answers.
After he was retired from the Marine Corps, Gene, ( at 21 years of age) returned to College with a new attitude. The Corps had taught him, "can't" is not in the Marine Corps vocabulary. He had never heard that before, so he applied this teaching to his new civilian life and he was successful. I never saw him as a quitter, he had "guts", determination and confidence in his ability to pursue his dream. If you thought he couldn't do something he would prove you wrong and then dismiss you..no negativity allowed..he had lived with it all of his life.
Yeah, that was the summer of "68", Gene came home and returned to College, Eddie was in the Army and the meathead was playing football and I was just living my life painting by numbers ...
Ferry Cross the Merzie..Jerry and the Pacemakers
Don't Let the Sun Catch You Cry'n...
The summer of 1968, wow...my brother was back from Viet Nam, the other was in Boot Camp at Fort Seel Oklahoma, the other a Junior in High School and on the Varsity Football Team...and I was was going to be a lowly Freshman...I remember it like it was yesterday. If I could only go back for a day, what would I do ?
I think I would say, I love you, more to my mom and I would let her know that I appreciated her. I would tell my brother Gene that I respected his choices and what he had to go through, even if society didn't seem to support his service. I would stand up to my tormentor and no longer be frozen by fear. I would listen to my inner voice. We don't do these things at 13,14, 15,16 because we are too busy living minute by minute and planning the next stupid thing we're going to do...yeah I'm not too old to remember.
I spent the summer babysitting to earn money for school clothes and" spending money" for our summer vacation at Huntington Lake. The kids I watched had a swimming pool. So we spent allot of time by the pool perfecting our tans. The kids next door liked to pop over and cool off and we all took advantage of the fact that the parents of these two great kids owned the 7-11 franchise across the street. So it was a summer of Slurpees, poolside tans and and then off to my favorite vacation spot. My eighth grade boyfriend lived around the corner, my "first" real kiss, and we would hang out and talk about High School and "stuff".
That summer seemed endless, See You in September.. Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, Bobby Vee..Rubber Ball.., songs just seem to transport you back. I'd love to go back..just for a day. I was honestly a pretty good kid. I never got into trouble and was kind of a "goodie two shoes"..just went along doing what was expected of me and if it wasn't expected, I didn't do it.
That's pretty interesting because my brother ( gee..I will never get tired of saying that or take it for granted) and I were talking the other night and he asked me if mom and dad ever mentioned going to College to me. I laughed and said, "no, I was a girl..there was no expectation. Funny that you ask because I just assumed I was the only one that they didn't talk to about it". He quickly said that they never mentioned it to him either, and they would say something about him going to a trade school or something. Expectations, guidelines set by parents are not to be taken lightly, they have a huge impact on how kids view their world and their future.
My hero, had low self- esteem, made mediocre grades and felt like the dummy in our family. Why? He had reading problems and did not perform well in school, (to his amazement he recently discovered he has dyslexia) and my parents, well my mom just figured he was "slow" and would simply have to settle in life with a "trade school" education and perhaps be a mechanic. This was the 50's and my parents were the personification of the teenage wartime romance story. They were completely unprepared for raising children. Gene was successful, inspite of their inability to guide him in the right direction and help him gain the tools he needed to follow his dreams. I must say, my parents did their best and were good parents, simply uninformed and they didn't seek out answers.
After he was retired from the Marine Corps, Gene, ( at 21 years of age) returned to College with a new attitude. The Corps had taught him, "can't" is not in the Marine Corps vocabulary. He had never heard that before, so he applied this teaching to his new civilian life and he was successful. I never saw him as a quitter, he had "guts", determination and confidence in his ability to pursue his dream. If you thought he couldn't do something he would prove you wrong and then dismiss you..no negativity allowed..he had lived with it all of his life.
Yeah, that was the summer of "68", Gene came home and returned to College, Eddie was in the Army and the meathead was playing football and I was just living my life painting by numbers ...
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
I Wish I Hadn't Done That
I came away from a conversation with my brother feeling so bad yesterday. I did a foolish thing without thinking, isn't that usually how a foolish " thing" happens? I felt his pain and I wanted to crawl into a hole. Let me preface this by saying that my brother, Gene, is the source of a great deal of pride for me( post reference My Brother My Hero). I love my children and grandchildren and they fill me to overflowing, but this guy..well, he has a part of me like no other. We share family history, childhood memories and emotional baggage.
Gene's phone calls are fun, funny, helpful and always nostalgic. Sometimes we share childhood memories about family that are no longer with us, and sometimes we share recipes..he can cook! Sometimes he just likes to talk about Viet Nam, friends lost and the Corps. Yesterday we were sharing high school experiences and we laughed as he recalled that at his High School graduation party their entertainment was the Beach Boys and Dick and Dee Dee, yep I had forgotten. I remembered that our cousin Sally had gone to school with one of the Beach Boys, but had forgotten about them playing for the BHS graduating Class of 1964. There were only four high schools in town at that time and they all shared the graduation entertainment..cool.
Then he asked me who had sang the song, "I Was Born A Woman", he said he couldn't remember. Naturally, since he is not an Internet person, I jumped right on and put it on Rhapsody and began to play it.
"Please turn it off, turn it off", and with those words I realized what I had done. This was one of the songs that one of his buddies played all the time while "in country" and he had been blown to bits. His name was Sloan and he had married his childhood sweetheart while on leave. He loved that song because she loved it and played it constantly. I could hear the pain in my brother's voice and then he kind of chuckled and said , " yeah.. I can hear Roy Orbison and remember exactly where I was and what I was doing, Bobby Vinton's, Lonely Soldier, and another memory comes. ( trailing off) He was quite a character, short kid, had to roll his pants up so he wouldn't trip over them ..good guy."
Music has always been able to transport me back to a special place in time and it has always been a friend. For the first time I saw it as something totally different and I felt ridiculously stupid. He was 20 when he went to Viet Nam and he was so much older when he came home.
Duty and Honor and knowing if you didn't do your job someone else would have to, kept him strong in the battle. Knowing that his experience could help another "green" make it through another mission brought him close to re-upping and a bullet ( he was wounded Feb 1967) saved my mother from the agony of going through another 15 months of pure torment.
I pray for his ghosts to give him peace, he carries his fallen comrades with him daily, he remembers them, he hears their laughter, sees their blank stares and sees each one pack up their personal belongings, a routine no a ritual before battle...I hate war...but I respect every participant. I love my brother......
Gene's phone calls are fun, funny, helpful and always nostalgic. Sometimes we share childhood memories about family that are no longer with us, and sometimes we share recipes..he can cook! Sometimes he just likes to talk about Viet Nam, friends lost and the Corps. Yesterday we were sharing high school experiences and we laughed as he recalled that at his High School graduation party their entertainment was the Beach Boys and Dick and Dee Dee, yep I had forgotten. I remembered that our cousin Sally had gone to school with one of the Beach Boys, but had forgotten about them playing for the BHS graduating Class of 1964. There were only four high schools in town at that time and they all shared the graduation entertainment..cool.
Then he asked me who had sang the song, "I Was Born A Woman", he said he couldn't remember. Naturally, since he is not an Internet person, I jumped right on and put it on Rhapsody and began to play it.
"Please turn it off, turn it off", and with those words I realized what I had done. This was one of the songs that one of his buddies played all the time while "in country" and he had been blown to bits. His name was Sloan and he had married his childhood sweetheart while on leave. He loved that song because she loved it and played it constantly. I could hear the pain in my brother's voice and then he kind of chuckled and said , " yeah.. I can hear Roy Orbison and remember exactly where I was and what I was doing, Bobby Vinton's, Lonely Soldier, and another memory comes. ( trailing off) He was quite a character, short kid, had to roll his pants up so he wouldn't trip over them ..good guy."
Music has always been able to transport me back to a special place in time and it has always been a friend. For the first time I saw it as something totally different and I felt ridiculously stupid. He was 20 when he went to Viet Nam and he was so much older when he came home.
Duty and Honor and knowing if you didn't do your job someone else would have to, kept him strong in the battle. Knowing that his experience could help another "green" make it through another mission brought him close to re-upping and a bullet ( he was wounded Feb 1967) saved my mother from the agony of going through another 15 months of pure torment.
I pray for his ghosts to give him peace, he carries his fallen comrades with him daily, he remembers them, he hears their laughter, sees their blank stares and sees each one pack up their personal belongings, a routine no a ritual before battle...I hate war...but I respect every participant. I love my brother......
Friday, March 9, 2007
Where Do We Go From Here..
I love the quote that will follow this introduction and I have a great deal of respect for the author and her husband. The following is from a blog written by Elisabeth Lepine. I met Elisabeth and her wonderful husband Jeff through my daughter, Megan. Jeff and Meg were majoring in Theatre at CSUB ( and are Alumni) and Elisabeth was an English Major, who brilliantly displayed her acting chops in several University productions.
These kids have such a zest for life and I have admired how they have gone from one adventure to another. They have lived all over and she travels abroad quite a bit now. This Bakersfield, California couple now reside in NYC. Well, as a grandmother, I am looking at this post and can remember thinking, OK, what comes next in life. I have gone from step "a" to step "b", now what are the expectations. In my day it was, "keeping up with the Jone's" and that is what is being asked here. Elisabeth has such a great way of just ..putting it out there. Read on:
"Has our education system set us up to believe large success happens annually? If so, are we setting ourselves up to feel failure? Or, is it that a yearly evaluation is a healthy approach to life and crucial for reaching personal goals? Are we creating a goal-obsessed society that keeps us from being happy in the present?Obviously, I have been thinking about adolescence and our natural vs. forced progression through life.When you are a child, you learn to live life year to year, summer to summer, and accomplishment to accomplishment.
Our educational system logically is split up into years: first, second; freshmen, senior, etc. You are expected to pass these levels each year and following this completion is some form of public congratulation or commencement. Hooray, you've passed grade school...check. Hooray, you've mastered junior high...check. Hooray, you've survived high school...check. This trend even follows you to college. A yearly checklist exists to complete this portion of your life, carrying you successfully from childhood to adulthood. We end up young adults who have gained respect, success, and attention on a yearly basis, proving our worth and hard work. We sequentially cross off our accomplishments year by year. Is our sense of success and accomplishment skewed due to this repetitive advancement through life? How do we reteach ourselves to measure our natural progression? Do we feel failure or incomplete when we don't receive that familiar pat on the back?...which is often followed by someone asking, "what's next?"Hooray, I am an adult...So...what's next? Where is my orderly, sequential, annual checklist? According to some...the next years are as follows: job, car, marriage, pets, kids, bigger car, house, promotion, savings accounts, more kids, SUV, better job, bigger house, more kids, yearly bonuses, grandchildren, retirement, death...done. While striving for the goals is not bad, the pitfall is that it often becomes a distraction. We become preoccupied with that "future something" rather than being content with the present. We may even overlook or ignore an opportunity along the way.
On a much smaller scale, I want to eat slower and enjoy the food, walk and drive slower and appreciate where I am, listen more and value the conversation, and make love longer and savor the sensation."
Well, I can tell you one thing ( Jack Palance.. where are you.."City Slickers"..) you can keep your eye so tightly focused on the goal, that life does indeed pass you by. Your professional work goals can keep you so intensely focused that you miss the joy of your baby's first steps, the first smile, the first kindergarten assembly as they all parade around in their George Washington's hat singing about our first president. Why? At this stage, each goal accomplished means another raise, bonus or the pat on the back that ranks you in the top 5 in your office.
It doesn't stop, you as the adult, must set your priorities. You have to choose where it stops and where your life begins, it's called balance and it generally comes with an overwhelming feeling of awe at the sight of your first born. Or...this is where you become confused about making the money to get the kid to college so he or she can be in the top 5 ranking in the office. You have to choose and that's where all of these Big Questions come into play.
Should women continue in the workforce after the children arrive? Can women really have it all?Why don't men have to choose between career and family obligations? Do we need the bigger home and the larger SUV? How do we measure success?
I think the real joy comes from savoring the moments along the way because they pass so quickly. All we leave behind are memories, I want them to be good ones..I want my children and my grandchildren to remember me with laughter, UGHS and all the other emotions they can muster, but never forget how much they were loved and how much I have enjoyed my life...mistakes and all.
I'm going back to my road now......
These kids have such a zest for life and I have admired how they have gone from one adventure to another. They have lived all over and she travels abroad quite a bit now. This Bakersfield, California couple now reside in NYC. Well, as a grandmother, I am looking at this post and can remember thinking, OK, what comes next in life. I have gone from step "a" to step "b", now what are the expectations. In my day it was, "keeping up with the Jone's" and that is what is being asked here. Elisabeth has such a great way of just ..putting it out there. Read on:
"Has our education system set us up to believe large success happens annually? If so, are we setting ourselves up to feel failure? Or, is it that a yearly evaluation is a healthy approach to life and crucial for reaching personal goals? Are we creating a goal-obsessed society that keeps us from being happy in the present?Obviously, I have been thinking about adolescence and our natural vs. forced progression through life.When you are a child, you learn to live life year to year, summer to summer, and accomplishment to accomplishment.
Our educational system logically is split up into years: first, second; freshmen, senior, etc. You are expected to pass these levels each year and following this completion is some form of public congratulation or commencement. Hooray, you've passed grade school...check. Hooray, you've mastered junior high...check. Hooray, you've survived high school...check. This trend even follows you to college. A yearly checklist exists to complete this portion of your life, carrying you successfully from childhood to adulthood. We end up young adults who have gained respect, success, and attention on a yearly basis, proving our worth and hard work. We sequentially cross off our accomplishments year by year. Is our sense of success and accomplishment skewed due to this repetitive advancement through life? How do we reteach ourselves to measure our natural progression? Do we feel failure or incomplete when we don't receive that familiar pat on the back?...which is often followed by someone asking, "what's next?"Hooray, I am an adult...So...what's next? Where is my orderly, sequential, annual checklist? According to some...the next years are as follows: job, car, marriage, pets, kids, bigger car, house, promotion, savings accounts, more kids, SUV, better job, bigger house, more kids, yearly bonuses, grandchildren, retirement, death...done. While striving for the goals is not bad, the pitfall is that it often becomes a distraction. We become preoccupied with that "future something" rather than being content with the present. We may even overlook or ignore an opportunity along the way.
On a much smaller scale, I want to eat slower and enjoy the food, walk and drive slower and appreciate where I am, listen more and value the conversation, and make love longer and savor the sensation."
Well, I can tell you one thing ( Jack Palance.. where are you.."City Slickers"..) you can keep your eye so tightly focused on the goal, that life does indeed pass you by. Your professional work goals can keep you so intensely focused that you miss the joy of your baby's first steps, the first smile, the first kindergarten assembly as they all parade around in their George Washington's hat singing about our first president. Why? At this stage, each goal accomplished means another raise, bonus or the pat on the back that ranks you in the top 5 in your office.
It doesn't stop, you as the adult, must set your priorities. You have to choose where it stops and where your life begins, it's called balance and it generally comes with an overwhelming feeling of awe at the sight of your first born. Or...this is where you become confused about making the money to get the kid to college so he or she can be in the top 5 ranking in the office. You have to choose and that's where all of these Big Questions come into play.
Should women continue in the workforce after the children arrive? Can women really have it all?Why don't men have to choose between career and family obligations? Do we need the bigger home and the larger SUV? How do we measure success?
I think the real joy comes from savoring the moments along the way because they pass so quickly. All we leave behind are memories, I want them to be good ones..I want my children and my grandchildren to remember me with laughter, UGHS and all the other emotions they can muster, but never forget how much they were loved and how much I have enjoyed my life...mistakes and all.
I'm going back to my road now......
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Friends Like That
Did you ever have a friend that you could connect with no matter how much time had lapsed between conversations? My daughter had one like that, a dear sweet friend from her elementary school days. No matter where life took them individually, they would reconnect months later and pick right up where they left off.
Those people are rare and they hold a special place in our heart like no other. They KNOW us, they GET us, they feel our rhythm and without missing a beat they fall into its pattern when we reconnect. It is like a warm kindred spirit who has found its way home. I love it when I have the privilege to reconnect with mine. I come away feeling rejuvenated and reconnected to "me". That seems like a simple and perhaps insignificant thing, but if your life has taken you somewhere you never thought you would go, well, that reconnection can be as comforting as a sunny day after a storm.
These people have a certain "right of passage", because of the history you have shared, and because you genuinely care about one another. Their criticisms are taken to heart and given quiet contemplation. My friend always gives me "hope", enlightenment and never leaves me without having made me laugh and smile. I dearly love and appreciate my friend. In fact, I think we should have a special day set aside just for our special friends.
If we had a special day actually set aside, then perhaps we would actually sit down face to face more often and share memories, because there would be "Friends Day". Instead, we talk about "someday", when we have a moment from our hectic schedules or , "yes, we will have to do that" and "that" never happens. So, we cherish the phone call, the email, the quick connection and we are deeply grateful for the rhythm of the friendship that never skips a beat.
Those people are rare and they hold a special place in our heart like no other. They KNOW us, they GET us, they feel our rhythm and without missing a beat they fall into its pattern when we reconnect. It is like a warm kindred spirit who has found its way home. I love it when I have the privilege to reconnect with mine. I come away feeling rejuvenated and reconnected to "me". That seems like a simple and perhaps insignificant thing, but if your life has taken you somewhere you never thought you would go, well, that reconnection can be as comforting as a sunny day after a storm.
These people have a certain "right of passage", because of the history you have shared, and because you genuinely care about one another. Their criticisms are taken to heart and given quiet contemplation. My friend always gives me "hope", enlightenment and never leaves me without having made me laugh and smile. I dearly love and appreciate my friend. In fact, I think we should have a special day set aside just for our special friends.
If we had a special day actually set aside, then perhaps we would actually sit down face to face more often and share memories, because there would be "Friends Day". Instead, we talk about "someday", when we have a moment from our hectic schedules or , "yes, we will have to do that" and "that" never happens. So, we cherish the phone call, the email, the quick connection and we are deeply grateful for the rhythm of the friendship that never skips a beat.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
A New Adventure
I come here to reflect and try to reconnect with myself, yes that's silly I suppose. Does that mean I go around detached..sometimes it sure feels like it.
I love to look at my road and consider the possibilities. I love that picture, and I adore that road. It is in Charlottesville, Va. and it is beautiful, tranquil and magical to me. In the mornings the mist settles over the pasture and the most gorgeous Angus cattle graze, hay rolls are randomly dotted into the landscape and one can hear the birds chirping in the trees. It is a peaceful place for a California girl to linger and take in God's masterpiece.
For the past eight summers this has been our vacation destination for 7 glorious days and I never grow tired of it. It is a vacation that is part business and allot of pleasure for me, my son and grandchildren. My other half grades for the CFA program, he grades and builds relationships and we play. We always spend an additional week traveling around the outlying areas, it is an adult Disneyland for a History major. This year will be different, we will not be taking our trip to my beautiful spot and I am trying to muster enthusiasm for our new destination..Hawaii.
I know the landscape is beautiful and I have heard from countless others that I will immediately fall in love with it. So, I am preparing my list of possibilities.
The Arizona Memorial, The Punch Bowl, The Paradise Cultural Center, Hickam Air Base, whale watching, snorkeling....ok I'm trying, but it's not my "road". Another change is that my adventurous, humorous grandson will not be joining us this year.
I have been taking Ethan on vacation since he was 7 years old and now the time that I have dreaded the most has arrived. I knew it was coming, he's a boy, a teenage boy and very into what is "cool" and this year I guess Nana is no longer "cool" to hang out with. We have a "love hate" relationship, as my daughter puts it. I see him as witty, delightfully handsome,talented, and sensitive to a fault. I see his potential which is vast. I become frustrated with him and yet, he warms my heart in a way that only a Nana would understand..well maybe he's right..Nana is not cool to hang with ( hummmm) well, I will miss him ( allot).
It's great hanging out here by my road, I am so glad I took this picture. This is nice and soothing,
almost as nice as ...well that's another random thought.
I love to look at my road and consider the possibilities. I love that picture, and I adore that road. It is in Charlottesville, Va. and it is beautiful, tranquil and magical to me. In the mornings the mist settles over the pasture and the most gorgeous Angus cattle graze, hay rolls are randomly dotted into the landscape and one can hear the birds chirping in the trees. It is a peaceful place for a California girl to linger and take in God's masterpiece.
For the past eight summers this has been our vacation destination for 7 glorious days and I never grow tired of it. It is a vacation that is part business and allot of pleasure for me, my son and grandchildren. My other half grades for the CFA program, he grades and builds relationships and we play. We always spend an additional week traveling around the outlying areas, it is an adult Disneyland for a History major. This year will be different, we will not be taking our trip to my beautiful spot and I am trying to muster enthusiasm for our new destination..Hawaii.
I know the landscape is beautiful and I have heard from countless others that I will immediately fall in love with it. So, I am preparing my list of possibilities.
The Arizona Memorial, The Punch Bowl, The Paradise Cultural Center, Hickam Air Base, whale watching, snorkeling....ok I'm trying, but it's not my "road". Another change is that my adventurous, humorous grandson will not be joining us this year.
I have been taking Ethan on vacation since he was 7 years old and now the time that I have dreaded the most has arrived. I knew it was coming, he's a boy, a teenage boy and very into what is "cool" and this year I guess Nana is no longer "cool" to hang out with. We have a "love hate" relationship, as my daughter puts it. I see him as witty, delightfully handsome,talented, and sensitive to a fault. I see his potential which is vast. I become frustrated with him and yet, he warms my heart in a way that only a Nana would understand..well maybe he's right..Nana is not cool to hang with ( hummmm) well, I will miss him ( allot).
It's great hanging out here by my road, I am so glad I took this picture. This is nice and soothing,
almost as nice as ...well that's another random thought.
Monday, March 5, 2007
My Brother, My Hero
When I was thirteen years old, the summer of August 1966, my oldest brother Gene left our home in Bakersfield, California with two of his new buddies from boot camp...destination Viet Nam. He was a Marine, and he had been playing the Marine Hymn on our family organ since I could remember. So, the military choice was an obvious one, not the Navy which had been my father's choice, but the Corp. That hot day in August was not unlike many others that we had shared as kids, but it was eerily heavy, it was scary, and it was sad. I will never forget the stiff hug and his words, "See ya later, kid" and then the slamming of the patio garage door and the sound of the car driving away.
New technology had brought Viet Nam into our homes via the nightly news, and the body bags, wounded on stretchers, the bombs, and the gunfire made the impending dangers that my brother faced very real. The realization that I might never see him again swept over me and the rest of my family. It was hard. We anxiously waited for letters, that came regularly as possible, and we prayed allot. Especially my mom, at night when she thought we were asleep I would see her with the family Bible walking around our backyard. She had waited for my dad to return from the Pacific during WWII and now, she waited for her son.
As a mother of a son, I cannot imagine how she held it together and seemed to make life as normal as possible for my two older brothers, dad and me, but she did. I have great admiration for her strength and her character. Well, the one thing that I can say about the similarities of today's War and the Conflict of Viet Nam is that unless you are personally connected, life seems to go on as if nothing is happening on the other side of the globe. I know we lived with it, in silence mostly, every day.
The letters from my brother when he was first "in country" were beautifully idealistic. He spoke of the people, the children, the beauty of the country. However, as a few weeks went by we began to see a change. Gene was with with the 1st Battalion 2nd Marines Echo Company stationed in Da Nang. He grew up quickly, too quickly. He had been a Boy Scout and was the leader of the neighborhood games that were initiated in our one acre backyard in the 50s'. He was the pirate , the Calvary leader, the leader of the Marines as all the neighborhood fellas scrambled over our back fence, and onto the canal bank and into the neighboring pasture. He was my big brother and he could do anything better than anyone ( well in my eyes, he could ).
Only a few months into his tour, we received word that one of the boys, Atkins, that had left with Gene that day had been shot in the leg and was on his way home. The other, Stevens, who had been a student at Purdue before enlistment, was having some problems adjusting and had been moved to supply duty. Gene was on the mortar team and we would soon learn that his orders were to make nightly raids in groups of six or eight or four. The call to move out would occur anytime after 1:00 a.m and they would return to base camp at sign of first light. This of course was normal, customary and routine..no big deal ..just a days work.
My brother returned stateside, February 1968, to Oakland Naval Hospital, where he spent close to a year recovering from a wound to his left arm. This wound has left him without the use or feeling in his arm ,as the bullets that ripped through his flesh severed the nerves beyond repair. He quickly told anyone who offered sympathy that they weren't to waste it on him. There was an amputee ward in the other building and those that had lost their eyesight, suffered brain damage and his wound was nothing and at least he was alive. He knew many that were not.
He returned to school, earned a BS degree from Chico State University and his Single Subject Credential in Science. He taught High School for a while and then turned to solitary work in Soil Conservation for the Government. He liked working by himself and being alone. The last time I saw him was in 1981, he just disappeared from "family" view. He was haunted by flashbacks, tormented by what he had seen and done. He never completely got over the reception he received upon his return home, especially on the University Campus, as he staid the course to complete his education and get on with his life.
I never thought less of him for disappearing, I knew he was broken in some way and was doing his best to move forward with his life. He never stopped being my hero. On August 1, 2006, two days before my birthday, I received the best gift a baby sister could receive. My phone rang, and I heard a voice say:
"Is this Malinda ? Yes. Did you use to live at 505 Terrace Way? Yes. ( long pause) Well are you going to tell me who you are? Gene. ( pause and spoken quietly and questioningly) My brother? Yes. Do you have any idea how long I have waited for this phone call? Nope. Well, where have you been? Around. Guam, South Carolina....
That was one of the best days of my life and the best birthday present I have ever had. The conversations come regularly now, along with packages of family memento's and memorabilia. It is wonderful and he writes! Wonderful stories, sad stories, personal stories of his experiences in Viet Nam, and children stories that are so perfectly 50's. I have not seen him yet, but the voice on the other end of the phone is enough for now. He is the brother I remember, my hero. I love you Gene!
New technology had brought Viet Nam into our homes via the nightly news, and the body bags, wounded on stretchers, the bombs, and the gunfire made the impending dangers that my brother faced very real. The realization that I might never see him again swept over me and the rest of my family. It was hard. We anxiously waited for letters, that came regularly as possible, and we prayed allot. Especially my mom, at night when she thought we were asleep I would see her with the family Bible walking around our backyard. She had waited for my dad to return from the Pacific during WWII and now, she waited for her son.
As a mother of a son, I cannot imagine how she held it together and seemed to make life as normal as possible for my two older brothers, dad and me, but she did. I have great admiration for her strength and her character. Well, the one thing that I can say about the similarities of today's War and the Conflict of Viet Nam is that unless you are personally connected, life seems to go on as if nothing is happening on the other side of the globe. I know we lived with it, in silence mostly, every day.
The letters from my brother when he was first "in country" were beautifully idealistic. He spoke of the people, the children, the beauty of the country. However, as a few weeks went by we began to see a change. Gene was with with the 1st Battalion 2nd Marines Echo Company stationed in Da Nang. He grew up quickly, too quickly. He had been a Boy Scout and was the leader of the neighborhood games that were initiated in our one acre backyard in the 50s'. He was the pirate , the Calvary leader, the leader of the Marines as all the neighborhood fellas scrambled over our back fence, and onto the canal bank and into the neighboring pasture. He was my big brother and he could do anything better than anyone ( well in my eyes, he could ).
Only a few months into his tour, we received word that one of the boys, Atkins, that had left with Gene that day had been shot in the leg and was on his way home. The other, Stevens, who had been a student at Purdue before enlistment, was having some problems adjusting and had been moved to supply duty. Gene was on the mortar team and we would soon learn that his orders were to make nightly raids in groups of six or eight or four. The call to move out would occur anytime after 1:00 a.m and they would return to base camp at sign of first light. This of course was normal, customary and routine..no big deal ..just a days work.
My brother returned stateside, February 1968, to Oakland Naval Hospital, where he spent close to a year recovering from a wound to his left arm. This wound has left him without the use or feeling in his arm ,as the bullets that ripped through his flesh severed the nerves beyond repair. He quickly told anyone who offered sympathy that they weren't to waste it on him. There was an amputee ward in the other building and those that had lost their eyesight, suffered brain damage and his wound was nothing and at least he was alive. He knew many that were not.
He returned to school, earned a BS degree from Chico State University and his Single Subject Credential in Science. He taught High School for a while and then turned to solitary work in Soil Conservation for the Government. He liked working by himself and being alone. The last time I saw him was in 1981, he just disappeared from "family" view. He was haunted by flashbacks, tormented by what he had seen and done. He never completely got over the reception he received upon his return home, especially on the University Campus, as he staid the course to complete his education and get on with his life.
I never thought less of him for disappearing, I knew he was broken in some way and was doing his best to move forward with his life. He never stopped being my hero. On August 1, 2006, two days before my birthday, I received the best gift a baby sister could receive. My phone rang, and I heard a voice say:
"Is this Malinda ? Yes. Did you use to live at 505 Terrace Way? Yes. ( long pause) Well are you going to tell me who you are? Gene. ( pause and spoken quietly and questioningly) My brother? Yes. Do you have any idea how long I have waited for this phone call? Nope. Well, where have you been? Around. Guam, South Carolina....
That was one of the best days of my life and the best birthday present I have ever had. The conversations come regularly now, along with packages of family memento's and memorabilia. It is wonderful and he writes! Wonderful stories, sad stories, personal stories of his experiences in Viet Nam, and children stories that are so perfectly 50's. I have not seen him yet, but the voice on the other end of the phone is enough for now. He is the brother I remember, my hero. I love you Gene!
Saturday, March 3, 2007
An Evening to ...Remember
I had the strangest sensation that I had been here before. Last night I attended my son's High School Variety Show. Yes, this was a fund raiser and in the past three years I was told that it has grown into a" must see" Show. My son is a lowly Freshman, but my youngest, so I have seen quite a few of these things in my past.
I remember when I was in High School, the PTA ( yes, not the Booster Clubs that have since taken over) sponsored this event. It was great because melded into the evening performance of students, were adult performances. This usually consisted of faculty, PTA officers and those usual faces of moms and dads that were always there in the background manning the refreshment stands and selling tickets. I fondly remember, now that I am an adult, my father joining the other dads in a performance of Swan Lake. Yes, in full attire, wigs, makeup, hairy legs and tutus. My mom joined the moms in a can-can dance and brought down the house. Last night was ok, but it needed a bit of the ole spit and polish. Gee, this is sounding like a Broadway Review, and I am showing my age.
For the most part, the kids were inventive a pretty funny. My poor son, who is quite the serious type and very preppy, just could not stand the thought of gett'n down with the home boys in a rap dance and was mortified to say the very least. I was forced to give a blood oath that we, his family, would keep our heads down and not watch. Above all else we were never to speak of it again..ever! We vowed we wouldn't watch him.
As the evening "dragged" on we heard the introduction to the much dreaded, Peanut Butter and Jelly dance. The crowd around us was screaming and applauding and I looked to my left and to my right and we all looked at one another. "You can't look, you can't look either, I'm not looking at "him", I'm looking at Cody, he didn't say we couldn't look at Cody."
We couldn't stand it we took a peak,....gee it was funny and not half bad. We had definitely seen worse that evening. The kid wasn't that bad..definitely could use dance lessons and is ALL WHITE....but, I only saw him for a second...
I had done my part as a lowly mom of a Freshman, I had spent three hours in the kitchen helping with food preperation and washing dishes. Next year, he has made me promise to do something with him in the show. Gee, I don't know. The Choir director was my old Choir
Director ( he turns 60 on Sunday and does not look one day older than the 23 year old that entered our classroom in the Fall of 1970.... well that is how my mind sees him) He has threatened me with unmentionable things if I don't step up to the plate..well my mom and dad did it..so perhaps we should " take one for the Gipper!" That is a whole year away....
I remember when I was in High School, the PTA ( yes, not the Booster Clubs that have since taken over) sponsored this event. It was great because melded into the evening performance of students, were adult performances. This usually consisted of faculty, PTA officers and those usual faces of moms and dads that were always there in the background manning the refreshment stands and selling tickets. I fondly remember, now that I am an adult, my father joining the other dads in a performance of Swan Lake. Yes, in full attire, wigs, makeup, hairy legs and tutus. My mom joined the moms in a can-can dance and brought down the house. Last night was ok, but it needed a bit of the ole spit and polish. Gee, this is sounding like a Broadway Review, and I am showing my age.
For the most part, the kids were inventive a pretty funny. My poor son, who is quite the serious type and very preppy, just could not stand the thought of gett'n down with the home boys in a rap dance and was mortified to say the very least. I was forced to give a blood oath that we, his family, would keep our heads down and not watch. Above all else we were never to speak of it again..ever! We vowed we wouldn't watch him.
As the evening "dragged" on we heard the introduction to the much dreaded, Peanut Butter and Jelly dance. The crowd around us was screaming and applauding and I looked to my left and to my right and we all looked at one another. "You can't look, you can't look either, I'm not looking at "him", I'm looking at Cody, he didn't say we couldn't look at Cody."
We couldn't stand it we took a peak,....gee it was funny and not half bad. We had definitely seen worse that evening. The kid wasn't that bad..definitely could use dance lessons and is ALL WHITE....but, I only saw him for a second...
I had done my part as a lowly mom of a Freshman, I had spent three hours in the kitchen helping with food preperation and washing dishes. Next year, he has made me promise to do something with him in the show. Gee, I don't know. The Choir director was my old Choir
Director ( he turns 60 on Sunday and does not look one day older than the 23 year old that entered our classroom in the Fall of 1970.... well that is how my mind sees him) He has threatened me with unmentionable things if I don't step up to the plate..well my mom and dad did it..so perhaps we should " take one for the Gipper!" That is a whole year away....
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