Point being, a picture, is only a moment in time. It can trigger memories of days gone by, however the picture itself “is not” indicative of what anyone is actually going through in their head and/or lives outside of the time it took to snap the photograph. We see people smiling and laughing in photographs all the time. “Smile for the camera” and on cue we all do it. It doesn’t mean anything past that point, unless you know a person. It is only a moment in time. Everything else is in the details of that person’s life. Get it? :) Good.
One time my mother asked me to brush my long hair, it was 1/2 way down my back. I thought I did pretty well, however no one said anything about brushing “underneath” the hair, or through it so when she came to put the curlers in, the first knot, she was gentle with. The rest, 3/4 as she ripped them out she was saying, “I thought I told you to brush your hair”. All you could do was try not to cry and/or argue. Yes, indeed when I got older, that behavior on her part, would have yielded her some pretty bad results from me.
I remember, she’d asked me to clean off the dinner dishes, I was pissed at her for some reason so I turned, looked at her and stuck my tongue out. Oooh well that went over like a fart in church. Out came the pepper which she applied generously to my tongue. Then told me to drink water or some shit, to wash it down, cept pepper floats (ingenious wasn’t I?) So the pepper never really did what it was supposed to do anyway. We’ll keep that as our little secret. After that of course, if I knew the term fuck you, I’m sure I thought it instead of sticking my tongue out anymore.
You weren’t allowed to play the instrument, as I’ve previously mentioned, that “you” wanted to play, you played what she liked. Which was weird because one would assume if you let the child chose the instrument they like, they would want to practice an hour every fucking night while you had those summer school lessons and excell. I liked the violin and the flute. I played the clarinet and the saxaphone. You ever have a reed on your tongue? For me, it was soooo gross. Then the thing squeaked because you weren’t oh so good and ugh… just groooooss.
We were in a store once, my sister was definitely there she was to stay by the card section or something and my mother wanted to go some where else in the store. I had to be very small … maybe 5/6 and my mother told me to walk ahead of her (It was a Two Guys store, in the basement area. Oh wow, look at that… lol) I was walking ahead of her, I was small so when this huge crowd of people blocked her from my view (who fucking puts a kid out in front and says keep walking straight anyway and doesn’t think of their size? rhetorical) I got scared, thought I’d lost her, ran through the crowd back to where my sister was. My mother appeared out of the crowd in the same direction, I was so happy to see her! And then she slaps me for not following directions. Utter, fucktard.
I remember tasting the salt water, from some unknown reason when she cooked. No idea why. I remember she joined me in a reading club at the library over the summer once. You got a tiny red flag for each level of books you completed. I read Nancy Drew stories, Black Beauty was my favorite, Charlotte’s web.
We weren’t in the house during the summer, we were out playing with the neighborhood kids. The people next door made really good hamburgers. lol I remember one time I was over there and I imitated the girls mother, while I was in the bathroom calling her name? I did it so well she responded and went to see what her mother wanted. LOL :)
Woolworths was another store we’d go in and through on our way out to main street to go shoppingand we would buy me a goldfish in there, I had 8 neat tiny graves in the backyard with all their names on them, with little crosses too. Finally, we gave up on the gold fish. Seemed fair.
I have a very vague memory of running to my mother, diving on her lap so she could scratch my back. I loved back scratches. Well, still do, who doesn’t? Seriously? You no like? lol :) We used to go over my grandmother’s house on Sunday’s, eat, watch Lawrence Welk (I like the show now but) and we’d sit in her living room (holy fuck, there it is! pictures, memories) with our great grandmother who was in her 90’s. She would complain in Italian, quietly moaning as if she was in pain all the time. We’d giggle at her (my brother and I, maybe my sister) because we didn’t know what else to do. She had this long, long white hair that was in a tidy braided bun. The while hair went down into a pale yellow color the time I saw it out of the bun.I used to use the push mower in the back yard and mow the lawn. I liked how the grass flew up from the blades as they spun and it made this cool swooshing cut sound as it spun/cut. There was a creek behind the house, maybe woods on the other side. I don’t remember. They had this driveway it wend down hill from the sidewalk. We weren’t allowed to walk on the high ledge that bordered it from the lawn because you could get hurt. I thought that was a really stupid rule until the day I was walking on it “anyway” fell down, landed on my back and knocked the breath out of myself. Yeah, kids… not too bright, I can do anything! BLAP! Fuuuukkk… breeeeath!
Nancy who lived upstairs from grandma there, there’s a doorway from the living room, into a small foyer (two family house) and you’d go up to Nancy’s house and my GAWD that woman was so sweet and kind and hugged just right. You know, she didn’t smother you, she was genuinely affectionate and my GAWD that woman could cook! She had a prickly little beard there, on her chin which made scratchy’s when she gave you a little smooch and a hug. Very sweet woman, almost the polar opposite to my real grandmother which is why my mother was the way she was. I get it.
After my mother died, I went over to grandmother’s house when I was 17, just to ask her why she stopped coming around after my mother died. She says, Why didn’t you come see me? Cunt much? I advised this human that I was a child and that wasn’t my responsibility. I didn’t like her, yet I seemed compelled to ask her directly. After that she sent me some card once with $5.00 in it, however I’d written her off at that point. I think, I didn’t need to get roped into driving her to the cemetery to visit her husband who was gone from when I was a kid forward. My mother used to drive her there and I never saw the point, looking a stone, putting flowers… no one’s there. Why you do this? And, I’d gotten my answer, said my peace and I was done with her. I don’t remember why this was oh so important to me. Doesn’t really matter really, just part of a memory. I think it occurred to me to go because after all those years, I knew someone who lived a few miles from there and I recognized the area one day.
My mother was a horrible game board player. I remember playing a round of Monopoly with every one once and I was winning. lol Well, against her anyway, my dad always whooped all of us, consistently. Erry teim! My mother, as I recall, landed on something I owned and it would have wiped her out completely play money wise and I guess I was ever so excited about winning I was busting her chops… I suppose and she got angry and left the table. lolol You see? Someone should teach adults how to play nice. That wasn’t very nice. Way to teach children how to lose gracefully. Don’t worry, I learned that on my own. I’m a pretty good sport most of the time, that I can think of.
Okay, this is long enough. I think what surprises me the most about this post is how much I actually remembered. Which is pretty cool. I also remember when I was sick, she would put me in my parents bed, with the TV (we didn’t watch “a lot” of TV) and give me this little bell. I used to think it was “oh so cool” that I could ring it and she’d come. I still have the bell actually, it’s on my dresser with my perfume. Makes the same sound.
It appears to me, the only reason we bond with parents at all, is because they’re there. So, it could be anyone we bond to who is a caregiver. Since I was adopted, it seems logical to me that if a person is your caregiver and they’re kind to you, or show you attention, care for you etc., that you develop a bond with them based on that. I’m at the stage in, I believe most of this (we’ll see) wherein I realize that friends can be the best family you’ll have. More importantly, it doesn’t have to be blood or direct family either. I have seen families who appear to be close knitted, loving etc., that wasn’t mine. :) I don’t like the things my parents have done. I do understand, as I’ve done the thinking in regard to same (minus the memories actually to this extent) that they are a product of their environments doing the best they can with their upbringings. Hopefully one generation learns better from the last, however if you look around in the world today? Or however far back or forward you would like to? Nothing will change in this regard. It can go either way, good, bad, middle ground parents… it’s all relative.
And you are a product of these environments. They define you initially, later on, hopefully in the worst case scenarios you define yourself more and more, for the better as you go along. I still find all these things fascinating. :) See ya.