Monday, August 23, 2010

Reflecting and Contemplating

1937

I had a really good childhood during the 30's and never knew I was living in an economically stressed time. The only indication I consciously knew there were "problems" was during the time my dad took our cat and her kittens to a farm because they were" too much." My twin sisters had just been born. The year was 1942. I enjoyed the privileges of being an only child until I was three. When my brother was born, I don't remember any changes and, after the twins came, I still don't remember feeling less important or neglected at all. My ego and self esteem and self-importance were completely undamaged and elevated. I absolutely lived in my own happy world. I was the apple of my father's eye, my uncle's eyes, my grandpa's eyes and I knew it.


As a young teen I still felt special. Perhaps it was because my mother spent so much time and effort promoting modeling aspirations with me. I don't remember wanting to be a model, but being considered to be "pretty" my best guess is that my mother wanted it both for herself and me. She was on a mission and I was also to benefit??


That lasted until I was around fifteen and by then, I had become confident, bold and even adventurous, relying on both my higher than average intelligence and appearance. My emotional stability was ruined at age seventeen when the first and only real love of my life married someone else. It was my own fault, because I turned him down by refusing to live in a trailer on a marine base. I didn't know that a trailer was a home and thought it was a big ugly box that is usually pulled behind a truck! Complete miscommunication through written correspondence did the damage to my psyche. It was a naive and costly mistake. I now trace this crisis back to the beginning of my innermost self and personality deterioration and future reconstructions.


1955

I married at nineteen, not having any idea about how to keep house, raise children, and take good care of myself and a husband as well. Now, I guess that's because I believe I was taught by example and not by actual and clear communication. Yes, I knew how to bake, sew, iron, launder, and work hard. No, I didn't realize that children had needs other than being kept clean, safe, well fed and sheltered. I knew about discipline and thought that was what was expected of a mother. Love? That was assumed, wasn't it? Having full responsibility of caring for four kids under the age of five was one I did to my best understanding of the qualities belonging to a mother and wife. My kids were never left alone, dirty, or hungry and their injuries were promptly treated. Their emotional needs weren't considered. I hadn't grasped that. It never registered in my mind to be a duty. It just didn't come naturally.


1960


At age twenty-five I divorced and remarried.


1962

Things went well through my 30's, and two more children were born.


1968 1970

In my 40's my self esteem had almost totally recovered when an unsuspected striking blow of infidelity crippled and almost killed me. Hate and jealousy zoomed forward. Trust and restraint and power vanished. It's a wonder I ever returned to be alive. But I did and without professional help or medication.


Then, in my 50's, a son's mental illness and alcoholism took me to the bottom of the pit again. I tried with all my might and every way imaginable to save him and failed. Finally, in my 60's I let him go and recovered. The encumbrance of perceived responsibility was released and restoration hurdles were again cleared. There are lasting effects, however. Hurt once, I turned away. Hurt twice, I walked away. Hurt thrice, I ran away. I've stayed away. Now I trust no one but myself. I NEED space - much space. I NEED release and escape. I am bound by my roots. I want to be understood, but I don't understand. I've returned, but all of me is not here. Much was lost.

GMR 8/23/10







Friday, August 20, 2010

Back 38 Years Ago.......


In 1972 my Pop was 65 and fishing at the lake in Pennsylvania where he and my Mom had built a log cabin, named "Tranquillity." It was a quiet and peaceful retreat for them from their New Jersey home and active lives.

Yesterday, when my husband was searching for a red and white "daredevil" lure, he looked to the bottom of the ancient tackle box. The rugged and dilapidated old-fashioned box has remained in a storage shed on the property where we now live, and under a multitude of broken parts and sundry fittings, there he discovered the license. It was in pristine condition, protected all through the years by a deteriorating plastic pin-on holder.

Reminders of the past seem to come forward quite often in our present. I wonder what our past reminder will show up in someone's future.

A non-resident license today costs $52.70!

The Tree Stump Carving

Part 6

For four months the stump aged and then time was found to create "James."


The carver is my friend. His wife was one of my 4-H club members 35 years ago!

I have kept touch with her through the years and they have 4 kids. The oldest (daughter) took over a large Arabian horse farm nearby us a couple of years ago. Our daughter took lessons there for several years when she was small and one of our mares was boarded there to foal because she was accidently bred already when I bought her and she gave birth in January. She and I camped out in the tack room and saw the foal born. The carver's wife worked at that farm then and still does now - for her daughter!

Small world! The past sometimes returns - in a different way at a different time. I guess the saying, "What goes around, comes around." is true.



The carver has done all our tree work here and for that, I'm grateful. He works a full time job, does the hay for his daughter's farm, trims and cuts trees AND sometimes carves! He's also a great father to his other son (17) and his twin sons (13). I'm privileged to know them all.


I gave him full artistic license to let the stump talk to him and carve as he determined. The large bleeding knot on the right side of the stump was the deciding factor in what way "James" would face. How wonderful the result!


I call him the "Guardian of the Cabin." His likeness resembles my great-grandfather, James Marshall.