28 years

      The other day my friend texted me and reminded me that it had been 28 years since we made our voyage from our small little towns in Michigan to Phoenix, Arizona.  

     Right before I graduated from Beauty school I was actually called by Nicole, everyone knew Nicole, she was one best nail techs known in Alpena in 1992 asking me when I have to take my exams to be licensed as a cosmetologist.  She explained to me that I worked on one of her clients while she was on vacation and she wanted me to come work in the same shop she worked.  I was so frekin happy!  Of course it was extremely hard to get clients right away since I was only doing nails and not full cosmetology services, and I was hoping to be the next Nicole...but it was hard.  So luckily the owner asked to me work the counter also while I was trying to increase my clientele which brought in a little more money.  

     Almost the same time after I started my job, my Grandparents had another talk with me and it went a little like this "Bridget, you are 18 and it is time for you to move out.  You are a good kid and did nothing wrong, but we raised 4 girls of our own and you.  You are very independent and can make it on your own."  I really don't know if I was shocked that I was being kicked out, or happy that I was moving out.  So... with this news, the hunt for a roommate started.  I decided to ask one of the girls that I hung around with in St. Ignace to be my roommate. I think she was looking for a place to live also.  We ended up moving into a single story very old, 1 bedroom stone house.  I think that the rent was maybe, maybe $400 a month?  It was really cheap, and we both could afford it putting both of our earnings together.

     So now we are moved into our new little place, I am working, I have no idea if the other girl worked or if she just got money from her parents (can't remember).  And of course, the partying began.  We had some pretty good parties.  Let's just say a lot of jungle juice 😎.  I decided to try to go to the community college at that time because well, seems like everyone else was.  That didn't work out too well.  

     After being in the house for probably just over 6 months or so, and my clientele at the shop not increasing, I didn't see too much of a future in Alpena, so I made up my mind that it was time for me to pick my stuff up and move to Phoenix.  In my mind and what I told my Grandparents was "I'm moving to Phoenix because I need to help my Mom".  I think I actually had in my mind that I could "fix" my Mom.  

     I told my roommate, and she wanted to come with me.  And then one of my best friends who had a full academic scholarship to Michigan State University told us over the phone that we could not leave without her.  Her finals or mid-terms were going to be completed in a week or two and she was coming with us right after she was done.  

     I sold what I could sell, even my little blue citation which in hindsight probably would have been a much more comfortable of a ride to Phoenix.  The three of us packed up what we could fit in a Fiero "trunk" Between the 3 of us, $700.00, a fold-up paper map all squished up in 2-seated Fiero….let the road-trip of a life-time begin….. 

     Phoenix here we come!  Three young ladies who were truly "wet" behind the ears from small towns in Michigan were ready to take on the world!  Well, at least Phoenix...and the heat!

 

Never Alone

     I watched a series on either Prime, HBO, or Showtime.  It is about a man who worked over 20 years as a Border Patrol Officer when unexpectantly things turned for the worse.  He was trying to help a friend out and he ended up on the other side of the border and in the end he was smuggling drugs into the US so he could get or keep his family out of harms way.  During the series, the man was falling for a beautiful Mexican woman and he states something like "your people are bringing drugs into our country". And she looked at him and says "your country keeps on buying the drugs".  It is a pretty much in-your-face statement that she made.  If our country stopped buying the drugs the people who produced the drugs wouldn't have a reason to bring them to the country.  It’s basic business,  if people are not buying what is being produced or what is being sold, the business will eventually fail. 

     With drugs, it is not only a one-sided story or a single person who is doing bad.  When I first smoked weed when I was like 18 or 19, I didn’t go out looking for it myself, I wasn’t out hunting it down, someone else was smoking it and asked if I wanted to give it a “go”.  With my Mom and her drug addiction, she was never alone.  She always had someone with her or someone to introduce her to the new stuff that would make her feel better.  There is always a person who shows another person who to go to or where to go to get what that person wants to make them feel better.  "I know a guy who knows a guy" type of situation.   All of my life my Mom had a guy who knew a guy or introduced her to the guy.  I know that she didn't or wouldn't put the work in herself to get what she needed.  What she got herself into was usually because a guy took her to what she needed.  She usually can or could coax or talk a person to do something for her.   She had that way about herself.  She used words to people to either pressure or con them into doing something that would better her.  

     Even though she is very guilty of what she did, and she had the choice to do better the addiction was too strong to not make the right choice.  Her addiction was so strong that her choices led her to making unforgivable decisions. Those unforgivable or unforgettable choices were letting all of her kids go for the need and want of the drug.    

   However, when I was growing up and still to this day when I hear how bad Susie was, or that she should rot in the back of a dumpster, I wish those people saying this remind themselves that she wasn’t always alone in the decisions she made.  

 

What next?

 The next few years went by pretty fast.  When my Mom left the last time, my Grandparents decided to adopt me.  My Grandparents had to put an ad in the Alpena news to my Mom and anyone else who may have something to say about my adoption.  I am not really sure the legal reasons why this ad had to be done, but I guess it had to be done.  I remember my Grandpa asked me to sit down at the table because they, being my Grandma and Grandpa, wanted to talk to me about something.  We all sat down at the kitchen table.  Then my Grandpa says with his low voice something like "I think it would be best if we adopted you."  Is that something you would like?  I remember the feeling for just a brief second of "why now?" and “hmmmm....do I really want to be adopted?” And then my Grandpa says that it would help them out financially if I were adopted and they would pay me $50.00 a month if I agreed to it.   After thinking of it more I did feel a little different about being adopted.  How would people think of me?  I knew my Grandpa was adopted and he said people treated him terribly because he was adopted when he was growing up so, as a teenager I wasn't sure how people my age would treat me if they knew about it.  And then I thought, OK if they are going to pay me $50.00 a month...why not?  And then my Grandpa asked me if I wanted to keep my last name Pahlkotter or change it to their last name Green.  I chose to keep my last name because it would be too difficult to explain why my last name changed.  Plus, I was actually really used to my long "odd" last name.  

     The adoption happened, there was no celebration, no new feeling about myself, no new feeling about how I felt about anything.  I still called my Grandparents Grandma and Grandpa, called my Aunts Aunt, and my Mom Mom.  And I think I only received one monthly payment?  I didn't ask about the payment because I just thought that if they wanted to adopt me they probably really needed the money. I actually never brought up the adoption to anyone until I became an adult and had to fill out official paperwork, especially when I married my husband who was in the Military and it was time for me to get a passport. I just recently found out after my Aunt has been bothering me about not believing I was adopted, was my Grandparents never let my Aunts know I was adopted.  From what I gather, my Grandpa didn’t want to let my Aunts know because they would have caused trouble for them and there would have been fights.  Well, the “cause trouble” part came about 30 years late... my Aunt started harassing me this year about my adoption.  Not exactly why she is so torn or worried about it now.  She didn’t really care about my well-being when I was a kid.  

     I continued to work in St. Ignace that summer for the entire summer break. I worked at Big Boy for a while then upgraded to being a waitress at a White Fish restaurant to make more tips/ more money.   I made enough money that year to buy my first car which was a light blue Chevy Citation.  It was pretty funny looking, but it was in excellent condition!  It ran really well and had brand new tires and the interior was in perfect condition.  My friend and I used to call it the "Blue Egg".  I loved it.  It was actually really comfortable also with well-maintained seats.  

     My Junior year in High School was OK.  I wasn't allowed to go back to St. Ignace to work that summer though.  I am not sure why I was not allowed again, I made good money over the summers I worked up there and I didn't need any assistance buying my school clothes.  Just wasn't allowed to go back.

 Just before my senior year, my Grandpa sat me down again at the table and says "I think you should go to beauty school".  He said, you are always doing someone's hair and I can just hear him saying "hell, you would even do my hair".  Yes, there were times I would stand behind my Grandpa and curl his few hairs on his head with my curling iron.  He would just sit there and let me.  It was funny because one time I accidentally burned the top of his head.  He had a big scab on the top of his head for a little while 😄.  He then went on to tell me that I wouldn't have to worry about a job after I graduate and he said it was a successful career.  

     During my Senior year in Beauty School, I was not allowed to drive my own car to school every day because I could not afford the insurance while I was in school.  My Grandparents could not afford to add me to their insurance either.  So, my Grandpa took me to school every morning and drove me home every night.  At 17 years old and at 17 it was so embarrassing to be driven to class every day.  But thank God for Grandpa being a person who always wanted to be early to everything because I was almost always the first one to the school every day before others could see me :) and I made it to class every single day and was one of the first to finish my 1700 hours of training.   The best thing about doing this was that I was able to graduate from both Beauty School and High School at the same time.  The next best thing about this was my Grandpa loved me very much.  He would do things to get on my nerves on the way to school every day but when I think about it now, I wish I could get some of those times back again.  And for this man who had already had 4 girls of his own to raise, a man who was put through the gauntlet with my Mom and her problems to wake up every single morning to take me to school and then drive back to pick me up to ensure that I succeeded in life is pretty incredible.  My Grandpa took me to Detroit to pass the “Boards” to be certified as a cosmetologist.  I actually got offered a job before I graduated from Beauty School as a nail tech at a boutique in the mall.  I still love nails and have my own nails done as a routine.  And I can still do hair, I am not scared to cut my hair, & I still remember how to wrap a perm.

I have carried this around since 1992.  I lost the larger one but carried the wallet size everywhere we moved

     I don’t remember a whole lot of communication with my Mom during a couple of years.  She probably called once in a while from Prison & she did call when I graduated.  That was nice.  

What Happened Next?

      What happened next?  The day after I noticed her hands shaking in the bathroom?  My Aunt Angie, her husband Tim, and their daughter came over.  I want to say it was late afternoon because it was still daylight outside and at the time of the year the sun would go down pretty early.  

      My Grandpa had this God-awful looking chair that I think may have been a rocking recliner. The color of the chair was sorta a baby pea puke color with a hint of gold in the stitching of the material. My Grandma put out a nice spread of things to eat.  My Aunt Angie was making a plate for herself and her daughter around the table and my Mom was sitting in my Grandpa's chair (please make a note....not too many people were allowed to sit in his chair).  Everyone was getting some food and my Grandma asked my Mom if she was going to get something to eat.  My Mom says she wasn't feeling too well so she wasn't going to eat anything at that time.  Before you know it, you hear a whoomp! My Mom actually fell over in the chair, she laid on the floor still sitting in the chair however, the back of the chair was on the floor and her legs were facing the ceiling.  

     We rushed her to the ER in Alpena.  They took my Mom back and the only thing I could remember hearing was that the nurse was trying to find a vein due to my Mom's veins in her arms were actually calloused overdue to the drug use.  They needed to find the vein or a good vein because  she needed to be rehydrated and possibly something else to lessen the side effects of withdrawal.  I think this is when she found out that she, or maybe more like “we” her family found out that she was infected with Hepatitis C.  When you look up how a person gets Hep C., basically it is like AIDS, most common transmittal of the disease is from sharing needles or from unprotected sex, & at that time there was not a medicine to cure or reduce the affects of the disease.  Basically a person will eventually die.  

     I don't remember if she came home or if she went directly to a rehab home in Traverse City.  I do know she went to rehab first and then onto a half-way house to assist with  transitioning  her from drug use to a "normal" life without drugs and maybe how to be a successful productive sober member of society.   The house did have a curfew and there were rules and regulations that needed to be abided by.  I don't remember visiting when she was in the rehab home however, she was successful in completing the entire rehab.  I do remember visiting her a couple of times while she was at the half-way house.  She did make a friend of a young girl that was just a year or two out of high school. I remember this because when I went to visit my Grandma brought up to my Mom that I was asked to go to prom.  The girl said that she had a prom gown I could borrow because she had just worn it a few years ago to her prom.  (please see the previous post about this memory and myself going to prom 😉)

     I believe my Mom was actually kicked out of the halfway house because she left when she was not supposed to. Basically, there is only one-strike-and-your-out bylaws.  She didn't come home after this occasion because the next time I remember hearing from her was when she was back in Phoenix.  After this occasion, there were not any real visits with my Mom for a few years.  The same ol' phone calls, a few collect calls from a penitentiary and then a couple from Prison in Arizona.  The prison was actually outside of Phoenix.  I know it was past the Good Year area but cannot remember exactly where.  

     With all of the different stints in jails over the years, I guess finally caught up to her and she was prisoned for 2-3 years (can't remember the actual sentence) for breaking her parole. 

The Windy Road-Long Rapids

      I want to say I was around 11 or 12? Again, I try to keep my memories in order but sometimes when thinking about them, I cannot really remember my age or what order they occurred.  I think sometimes I combined the memories also.  My Mom came home again and of course with another man (I think?).  To tell you the truth, the amount of times my Mom has come and gone from our house throughout the years by hitch-hiking from Michigan to Arizona or California is actually incredible.  It is incredible because it is a long way to walk and hitch a ride and it is incredible that she didn't show up dead.  I am sure some things may have happened, or someone tried to do something bad to her throughout her many hitch-hiking adventures.  But again, with her little spurts of violence (downright crazy violence) I am not fully sure someone would actually do something to her. Plus she was very strong.  So if someone tried, they would probably get a good fight. This man that showed up this time was not allowed to stay at our house, I think my Grandparents really didn't like this one.   He was tall, skinny, with dark skin and bushy curly hair.  

     This part is a little confusing for me so I know it may be confusing for you...When I speak about the men she came home with, a lot of these moments were when I was  9, 10, or maybe 11.  When I put two and two together, I truly think it was during the time she was with my sibling's Dad.   I know she spent a lot of time during that 3-year span in Michigan in the Lansing area.   She came home to Alpena more often during this time span to visit. Plus she had Tess in Arizona and a picture of the two of them while in California.....Therefore, they traveled to and from California and maybe a few pit-spots in Phoenix because they did know some friends, not-so-good friends in Phoenix.  

     Anyhow, she was home, and she did not have a man with her but she did come home with a man, not sure where he went.  During the visit, the man was arrested. For what?  I did not know. This is what my memory serves me. I do remember someone was picked up because she was very off, very nervous (she usually acted pretty nervous but I am not sure if it was withdrawal or not).  During her visit, my Mom, my Aunt Angie, Grandma, and I were driving home from town.  My Grandma drove a butter yellow Chevy Impala.  You know the ones that had a full seat in front so three people could sit in the front seat? That is the car we were driving home in.  My Mom sat in the back seat with me.  My Grandma was driving and my Aunt was on the passenger side. My Grandma drove fast..." like a bat-outta-hell" my Grandpa usually would say, down the Long Rapids road.  It felt like it was fast back then and it was a windy two-lane road surrounded by woods.  We didn't have to wear seat belts so the windiness would make the ride home a little more adventurous!  If I could take you to the Long Rapids road, I would be able to tell you exactly where this happened.  As we were driving, we see a man walking down the road on the dirt shoulder and as soon as we starting approaching him, which was pretty quickly because my Grandma drove fast, my Mom leans into the window and follows him with her head as we pass him.  I can see this happening to this day.  It was sunny, with so much green in the trees.  We were all happy.  

We all knew who that man was, even I knew that feeling of "uh, oh".

     We got home, probably about 20 minutes after we got home my Mom says she wants to go to the corner store.  The Male's store.... everyone went to the Male's store to pick up this or that and kids would ride their bikes there to get candy or pop.  She grabbed my Grandma's bike (it was a cruiser style of bike, reminded me of the bike the lady rode at the beginning of the Wizard of Oz), no one could stop her because she was a grown woman and she was going to do what she wanted to do one way or another. Now, I had no idea my Mom was such an athlete to be able to #1 ride a bike, and #2 ride the single-speed bike to the store.  Now I do know though that she did have the endurance, she was always able to walk several miles to hitch a ride to-and-from the West Coast!

      An hour later, my Mom never returned.  My Grandpa went to the store to see where she was.  No Susie.  My Grandpa drove around a little bit in the direction it would take her to leave our area and leave Alpena....No one on foot anywhere.   There were only two directions to leave and the next main roads to get out of Alpena and from the house we lived in was a good 10-15 miles away!  Gone....and the man my Mom found so interesting walking on the road....gone..... disappeared.  We couldn't figure out how they even hitched a ride that quickly out of the area we lived!  We lived in the country, folks stuck to themselves in our area and wouldn't think of picking someone they didn't know especially picking up a hitch-hiker.  Gone......Again.....  My Grandpa went back to the store a day or so later and asked Mr. Male if he had seen a bike and Mr. Male said there was one underneath the Thunderbay River overpass bridge right by the store.  It was still there, no one took it.  My Grandpa brought it home and it looked as though nothing happened.  A few days after my Mom calls us from Phoenix.  Whatever she brought with her this trip she didn't take with her.  Only maybe a purse which she would have taken to actually buy something at the store if she took that.  

**   About 2 weeks ago I spoke to my Grandma about how she felt about my blog.  She brought up this memory also and told me what she remembered:  She said one day my Mom told my Grandma that her back was hurting her and she needed to go to the doctor.  (Remember she had a bad back due to her gymnastics accident when she was a kid, and always thought she needed the pain pills....or that was her excuse)  From what my Grandma remembers, she and the man went to a doctor and when the doctor left the exam room they stole a prescription pad.  They wrote out prescriptions for whatever they were trying to get and then tried to get the so-called prescription filled at one of the local pharmacies.  Well, long story short...they got caught and put in Jail.  "The man" had someone bail him out and of course, my Mom got out. I think when he was walking down the road he may have been coming to find her.  

  

 

Invasion? Jealousy? Envy? or just pure hate?

      As I have stated before, I was brought to the Green household when I was a toddler, 2 years old.  I do remember visiting my Mom in her house throughout my younger years, I remember certain things like her having a wooden cable spool table which was stained with a very dark stain, her burning incense, and I have a really strong memory of her taking a bubble bath and calling me to come into the bathroom while she was in the bath.  I have no idea what she wanted, but this is an odd thing I remember.  I do know I was visiting her long enough for her to pierce my ears with a needle.  I don't remember it being done but my Grandma did tell me all about how she had to add another piece of string every day to make the hole bigger, basically re-piercing my ears over and over.  Now holes are basically a slit in my ear (age does this 😏)

     I think that the idea of me joining the Green household really must have had an impact on my aunt Angie.  She was eight years older than I was so there was a little bit of an age gap, just enough to maybe get the "invasion" feeling.

     I don't remember a whole lot of problems of course before elementary school but as I got older she got more mean.  I did get in trouble it seemed like a lot when growing up.  I don't know exactly what I did wrong when I would get in trouble especially prior to the teenage years but I did get in trouble.  I didn't get spanked on my butt growing up however, I would be slapped across the face quicker than myself actually getting the "B" out of my mouth for the word "But".   I really don't remember doing things to get myself in trouble.  I probably made a face I was not supposed to make at the time, or just didn't get up fast enough when I was a teen.  I do know I had a messy room.  That got me in a lot of trouble.

     As I got older, I would see my Aunt would get everything she wanted from my Grandparents, she had a special bond with my Grandma, she would be given dogs to show, she would go to dog training and the shows with my Grandma, she would do ceramics with my Grandma, do arts and crafts with my Grandma, etc. and when she needed money my Grandpa would give her money whenever she wanted.  When it was time to do chores, I would have to get up, do my chores and "get outside, I don't want to smell you in the house!".  That is usually when I went into the woods to make a fort or go across the street to fish or hang out with the Wymans across the street.  However, my aunt was able to hang out inside the house and bake or whatever she did with my Grandma.  Saying all of these things makes me sound like I was a little jealous, doesn't it?  Of course, I was!

     I was jealous because I was told over and over again "Bridget I will always be honest with you, you are not my daughter, you are my granddaughter"  Now, to my Grandma during that time it sounds very good, to be honest, and not leave anything behind or out of the story?  But it really wasn't good to the child that actually felt she was "not a daughter". And to be reminded that I was Susie's daughter, time and time again.  I looked just like Susie so I guess that is why I was reminded I was Susie's daughter.

     As I said earlier, my Aunt got crueler to me and would belittle me as I got older.  It seemed to me as though she took every chance she could to slap me and send me to my room when my Grandparents were not at home, and took each of those slap moments and tacked on a "you are just like your Mom!" insult.  But as soon as my Grandparents would get home I would be in trouble one more time because  my side of the story really didn't matter.  It was back to my room I go.

     One thing about what my Aunt did get right when she would say "you are just like your Mom!" or when I would hear her say "She is just like Susie", is that I had the temper of my Mom. From what I am told my Mom actually threw one of my Aunts through a screen door and jumped through a kitchen window to chase one of my Aunts down the driveway when they pissed her off.  I would see that temper later in life when some of the "fits" she would have would come to life.   My temper decided to show up when my friend Kristy was over to play, and for some reason, she got mad at me, sent Kristy home, and took me into the bathroom to yell at me and she slapped me across the face....hard.  My Aunt was a big girl compared to me, she probably weighed around 170 lbs at the time and I was small.  To me, she was very big. I got up, looked at her, and slapped her back, and told her that that was the last time she would slap me.  She went down to her knees in the bathroom, put her face in her hands, started balling big crocodile tears and yelling how terrible I was, and again, I was just like Susie!  Of course, as soon as my Grandparents came home, they didn't hear my side of the story.  Only Angie's.  

     That wasn't the last time she caught my temper.  There was a time when my Mom came home, I was around 15 or 16, I was very protective of my Mom and what people said about her, Angie said something to me and the story I was told was I took one of the dining room chairs over my head and went after my Aunt with it.  I believe my Mom was the one who stopped me.  I was actually so angry that time I blacked out during the incident and can't remember any portion of the chair lifting incident.  

     The bathroom incident was the last time Angie laid a hand on me.  However, she was still mean...mean....mean....mean!  For some reason, I felt as though I was completely hated or she was just disgusted by me.   But now that I think about it, maybe she was just jealous because I invaded her space? 

Christmas Time

Christmas eve was always good in the Green (My Grandparent's last name) household. The leading-up feeling to Christmas had me excited every year! Everything from my Grandpa complaining about having to bring the tree in, it being too tall and having to trim it, him complaining because he had to climb into the attic to get the decorations down....a whole lot of mumbling curse words while he was on a ladder to bring everything down. And then of-course being forced to sit on Santa's lap who and which I was so extremely scared of, to watching my Grandma and Aunt Angie baking cookies and make candies made it so exciting!

My Aunt Jean and Uncle Larry would come for Christmas eve and bring my cousins I think almost every year that I could remember. I think when my Aunt Mamie and Uncle Pete lived in Osseneke, MI, she would come on Christmas eve but I can't really remember them being there. I know when they moved to Traverse City they wouldn't come for Christmas, the visits would be very rare. Once-in-awhile my Grandma's siblings would come by on Christmas eve, if they would come out it would be my Uncle Bob and Aunt Darlene. We lived in a double-wide, it wasn't a very big house which made it feel like it was packed during the celebration. My Grandma would make dinner and about five different pies to fill my uncle's stomach until they would almost burst. The food and drinking a lot of beer would have everyone pretty stuffed.

After dinner, my Grandpa would take all of us kids out for a ride to find Rudolph! And of course, we found him. It was a blinking light in the sky everyone could see when there was a clear night because it was actually the airport light that would blink. The route he would take would be a loop so we actually wouldn't see Rudolph until the very end of the ride and after we saw him we would go back home.

Once we were back home we would see footprints from the snow in the living room and the tree would be packed with presents... Santa would have come to the house and not only would it be presented for me and my Aunt Angie but Santa would have stopped and dropped off gifts for my cousins also prior to him stopping at their house in the city when they returned home.

After all of the gifts were opened and the kids were playing with the gifts and just playing whatever they were playing and like clock-work, we would get a phone call from my Mom. This is when the long-distance phone calls would be "collect" calls. When the person calling didn't have enough money, or probably with my Mom's case she was calling from a payphone, the person on the receiving end of the call would have to pay for the phone call. I have no idea how much the collect phone calls were but I do remember what a big stink my Aunts would make when my Mom called and the complaints about how much money she was costing them. "Why does Susie always have to ruin Christmas?" I would hear from them. And then I would get the phone and hear "Hi baby girl!" "I miss you!" "I love you!" usually some other types of niceties in-between those statements which were her norm. I don't ever remember getting the collect call "will you accept the charges" from whatever jail she was in during Christmas. My Aunts (usually Angie) would say "what did she say? What did she want?" I think the only response I would give is a shoulder shrug and then move on to playing again.

Even though the phone call was a nuisance for folks sitting in the living room or maybe an annoyance, I actually liked the phone calls. I was reminded later in my 30s when my aunts would complain about the phone calls. They had no idea how it made a young girl who was missing her Mom feel hearing those comments every year.

I believe there may be only one Christmas she was home. I don't remember myself actually enjoying Christmas time with her.  I only have a photo. And the only reason why I think this is Christmas time is due to the homemade decorations hanging from the ceiling.

                                       1979: My Grandma, My Mom, My Aunt Jeanie (behind my Mom), My Aunt Mamie in the front

She's Here and Then She's Gone-Poof! Like Magic!

One memory I have with softball is the time my Mom came home and of course, she came home with a man. You know, for the life of me I don't know if I have seen this particular man this time or if it was a different guy. But the memory sticks with me but, I am not sure if I am combining two different memories. However, of course, I wanted so desperately was for her to watch me play softball.

I believe I was around 9 or 10, my Grandpa was the coach ("get your butt down!" I can hear him say) I was getting really good at the sport after the timing of hitting the ball just clicked and I was moved up from the bottom of the line-up to the 4th batter.....the clean-up batter! I learned how to field at 3rd base and throw someone out. But I actually loved it when I moved to catcher when we moved up to fastpitch at around 11/12 years old. My cousin would strike someone out and I would taunt the batter or throw someone out when they tried to steal. We were quite the duo!

A few days or so prior to one of my games, when my Mom came home out-of-the-blue, I was so happy....my Mom was going to come and watch me play ball. I believe she was there, came with us to the game, and then she left. From what I remember if my memory serves me right, she didn't come back. Why? Well, she was picked up by the police. I think she went to the gas station (to me it was a pretty long walk) to get a soda or something and never came back. If I remember correctly, I think the police came to the game and let my Grandpa know (quietly) that she was picked up. My Grandpa and Grandma really didn't say anything during the game or after the game. I am assuming they didn't want to ruin my game? The good thing is the police knew my grandparents and I am so happy they didn't bring her back to the fields. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would have been to me? At that age? And in the small town, I lived in? Everyone would know. What she did to get picked up in such a short amount of time? Your guess is as good as mine.  The ironic thing about this is I played softball for FOP (Fraternal Order of Police)

About a week later I think she was bailed out of jail. I don't know who went and picked her up. And really, I don't know where she went after bail was made. But she didn't come back to the house as far as I can remember. She would just leave just as fast as she came in. Poof! Just like that she is gone. About a week or so later she would call from Phoenix or California. "Hi Baby Girl!"

I don't know exactly how much money my Grandparents spent over the years getting her out of jail. I do know they probably spent a pretty penny on her though. I do know, it was money we just didn't have.

Steve

Sometimes when I am either traveling along my morning commute or if I am walking down the street to and from work, I may see someone who reminds me of my older brother Steve.  It usually is someone's blue eyes and dirty blond hair that makes me take a second look wondering if this man is him or not.

I do feel as though I would recognize him, though if it was him.  But sometimes I think to myself, "Would I know if it was him if I bumped into him?".

Steve has sky blue eyes and a relaxed stare that could draw anyone in.  My earliest memories with Steve is when he would come to our house to visit during the summer or over a weekend.  I think I was around eight or nine years old when he first started coming around again.  He would be dropped off, but I am not sure who dropped him off.  I don't have a clear recollection of my so-called father dropping him off.  However, I had the fondest memories when he was around.  When we were young, I always felt as though I needed to hug him or touch him.  I am not sure if it was a need I had that when I touched him or was fulfilling a missing part of me?  Or was it because he was my brother and it was extraordinary when he visited.

Probably 75' or 76'

My Grandpa just loved it when Steve would come to visit.

My Grandpa and Steve

  My Grandparents had four girls and then raised me, so when Steve came to visit, it was indeed a treat for him.  I think Steve also enjoyed visiting because we lived in the country with 5 acres of land surrounded by woods.  Steve grew up in the city.   I think he enjoyed being able to run around, be surrounded by the cows and chickens, and then go across the street to the river to play in the river.

I am not sure how or who made plans for him to come around and visit.  He did visit probably once a year until I was old enough to graduate.  It was hard to talk to him in-between the summers.  Steve was never good at communication.  By that, I mean, he rarely called to see how we were doing.  Steve has never grown out of that problem he has with communication.  He just came and went whenever he pleased.  It was always a surprise when we got the phone call that he was coming to visit. 

Where did Susie go?

      Well, as you know, my Mom was a child of the '60s and '70s.  I guess.  No, I know she was a child of the hippie era.  Even up to the last time I spoke to her about 12 or 13 years ago (I think Anthony was in the 5th grade), she had a raspy voice and talked with singing-like sentences.  You know those people who stretch out their words when they speak, almost like they are whining but not whining.

     Anyhoo, of course, I don't remember what happened during their short-term marriage.  Don't know if there was a lot of fighting, who the guilty person was, or why they ended up divorced.  I think the marriage lasted for maybe two years. It is funny because my Mom never spoke ill of Steven.  In fact, she never spoke ill of any of the men that she had kids with.  I think it may have been due to her being in the wrong.  She probably knew whatever happened to end any of the relationships was due to something she did. 

   Now, from what I am told, my brother Steve went with his father Steven, and I went with my Mom.  I wasn't with my Mom for too long before she felt as though she couldn't take care of me.  She felt as though leaving me at a church with a coloring book was the best route for leaving me.  I do have to give her kudos for that departure though.  I should feel "blessed" literally, for being left on a church pew with a coloring book at two years old.  And I am happy that she had enough knowledge to let the pastor know I was there. I was left sitting on the pew in a dirty wet diaper coloring. 
 
 My Grandparents got a phone call from the pastor to come and pick me up.  I don't know the entire story behind how the Pastor knew who to call. And there you have it, this is how I ended up with my Grandparents.  I think they did have to go to court for custody, and Steven (my so-called Father) told the court that I was not his child.  Thank God for my Grandparents choosing to pick me up.  I am not sure where I would have been if they didn't. 

   Where did Susie go?  Why did she leave her child?