I Got Robbed!

     When I wrote the last blog, I thought I remembered my last memory before my Mom was on her way to prison.  However, this memory slapped me in the brain when I was driving home from an appointment.

     I am not sure if my Mom came back one more time after her stint in rehab or if it was the next year.  I just cannot remember, and I cannot remember which scenarios can exactly put "two-n-two" together.  However, I can remember this particular time that sticks out well, and why I am so protective of my things that I worked hard for and paid for myself.....

     This time when she was home, she knew a trucker.  He was a nice guy.  He was an older man, not anything special; he was just a plain guy that drove rigs.  She did mention one time that she knew him because she has gotten rides from him before.  

     She stayed with us for a little while. I remember taking her to the Alpena Mall to walk her around; the funny thing about this adventure to the great mall (it is actually a tiny mall with about 10 stores 😁) is that I wanted to be seen with her. I wanted someone to see me with my Mom.  I was only known for living with my Grandparents, so I wanted people to know I had a Mom.  I actually thought my Mom was so beautiful.  I wanted people to see my beautiful Mom. Even though a few of her teeth were starting to fall out. There were no people my age that day at the mall.  I didn't get the chance to show her off.  On that visit, she actually got her hair cut also.  She got a crazy haircut; it was what was "in" in the 90s. I think it was an asymmetrical haircut, short and spiky on one side and then got longer as it went around the head.  

     After staying with us for a little while,  she went and lived with the trucker for a little while.  She had a way to seduce and use men who were not real "lookers" and not rich, just ordinary men who worked hard for their money.  She could get these men to give her stuff.  The trucker is one of those guys, basically a good-guy from what I know.  He had his own house, so that was a good thing....right?  She probably got some money from him to get whatever she wanted or needed.  I remember at one time during this visit home, she came back to the house to get a few bags (trash bags) of clothes, and then she was gone. 

     When I looked in my closet later, I noticed that she loaded that trash bag with my clothes!  She filled it with my jeans,  shirts, and sweaters! And then I found that she stole my good boots that were expensive! Expensive for me because I had to work hard for them.  I was pissed!  I was robbed by my damn Mom! It really pissed me off because I worked so hard over the summer to buy those clothes, and I loved those boots!

    To this day, if someone takes anything that is mine without me giving it to them, or if they ruin something that is mine that I worked hard for and earned, I will have a really hard time trusting them again.  

      

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. 

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.