Fear and Loathing In Ohio
Last week.
Last week was a strange week. I should start by saying that last weekend, Not this past weekend but the weekend before (despite a sunburn that would make Ra so proud) was probably one of the best weekends I have had in a long time. We went to the Sarasota county fair. This doesn't mean anything to most people but when you grew up in my town, fair week was what was goin' on. Even the schools shut down for the week of the fair. That is where you saw people. That was a week of staying out late and eating junk and hanging with your friends. It was always the first week of September, sometimes my birthday would fall during fair week which was added excitement for me. When I wasn't grounded during fair week, I was there. As much as one could be, that is, for being so poor. Later in my teen years, I was too fucking cool for the fair. That and I was in perpetual prison. So I am speaking of fair weeks up to about age thirteen.
Anyway. One of the things that is better about fair week when you are a grown up... ATMs. There is no running out of money. I ate like I had never heard of Raw food. There are certain events in your life where you just have to set some priorities. During the week of a county fair you get a "get out of jail free card". No one can blame you when Elephant Ears, Funnel Cakes, French Fries, and Italian Sausage with grilled onions and peppers and Cotton Candy become top priority. Not that I was asking for approval.
So, my kids were smiling like I haven't seen them smile for a very long time, maybe ever. I was having a very good Saturday. All was well. Except for one thing.
The call we got saying there had been a death in the family. Terry's family. Someone Terry felt very close to as a child. So, Sunday morning we packed up, left for home, unpacked, repacked, and headed North.
The following four days were spent driving, being at the visitation and funeral and then trying to visit with people we needed to see. People who are either getting on in years, or haven't been well lately. In between that time we got to sort of see everyone else and have a birthday party for Savannah and Terry's mom which was cool. that was probably one of two highlights of the whole trip.
The other being the stars actually aligning long enough to see two of my mother's brothers and my cousin sitting across the lunch table from me for two hours. That was a really important moment for me. It was kind of a moment of clarity and peace. I realized a few very important facts during that lunch. Some very bittersweet revelations, as it hasn't happened for the last eight years and very likely will never happen again. I took comfort in the fact that in some ways they are still the same two people that they were when I was Hope and Savannah's age. That was a happy thing for me to get to see for an hour. A glimpse into my childhood memories. The sad part was seeing how much they have aged. How sick one is. How much they aren't they way I remembered. They aren't the young men they once were. This doesn't seem as noticeable when you see people once or twice a year. When you go away for eight years it makes a big impact. I had really been glad to see them together. That is when you get to see a glimpse into the past. The things they say and how they act when they are together makes all the difference. I do realize now, however, that things are not like the old days. They don't have big family get-togethers and play music and do all of those things I miss. They just don't. It is gone.
I realized that and that no matter how much I try I will just never ever get some things back. I have to just stop trying to go backward, just let go.
It is kind of weird to me that I just wrote about my paternal grandmother on St. Patrick's Day and how I drive past her house when I am there. She lives nearly 1200 miles from my house yet not a week after writing that post I drove past her house again. I thought of what I had written on St. Patrick's day. A little feeling of panic kind of bolted through me. There were no lights on. It was dusk but not late. I know her phone number by heart yet I have no way of knowing why her house was dark. I can't seem to find whatever it is going to take to for me call her or stop in there. The whole thing disturbs me. It is some sort of inner struggle for me to figure out if this is one of those things that I need to try to get back or just let go of.
Thursday and Friday were spent on the Longestdrivesoutheverattemptedbyanyoneever. Then we slept and did other recovery type things and talked and analyzed and then slept more.
Reflecting on a week like last week is like trying to decipher some weird dream that you aren't really sure if you dreamed it or it happened the way you are remembering it. Bits and pieces seem unrealistic and it all kind of runs together like a train wreck.
Posted by gwendolyn on March 29, 2005 at 02:12 PM
When All You Can Do Is Laugh
An old man was sitting on a bench at the mall. A young man walked up to the bench and sat down. He had spiked hair in all different colors; Green, Red, Purple, Blue, and Yellow. The old man just stared and stared. Every time the young man looked, the old man was staring. The young man finally said sarcastically, "What's the matter old timer, never done anything wild in your life?" Without batting an eye, the old man replied, "Got drunk once and had sex with a peacock. I was wondering if you were my son."
-forwarded to me by my mother in lawPosted by gwendolyn on March 28, 2005 at 04:58 PM
seanmháthair
A bit of trivia: The yard in front of the place where I lived from the age of 5 to 18 was abundant in four leaf clovers. I used to pick them and press them into books. How ironic that we never had any good luck there, isn't it?
When I was a little girl most St. Patrick's Days were spent with my dad's mother. I remember this because she would make a huge deal out of it because she was, at least partially, of Irish heritage. Of course, being Catholic she was big on trying to pass on to me all the stories of the saints, of which I remember basically none. Wouldn't she shit now if she knew that my opinion of the matter, based on the very little bit that I have learned, is that the Christians should have just left the Pagans the fuck alone. Though I will give St. Patrick some extra credit for the Celtic cross because it is quite beautiful.
Anyway, every year she would call in to our local radio station and dedicate Danny Boy to me. Soon you would hear the announcer on the air saying my name and dedicating the song to me from my grandmother. Then she would dance me around the room and sing along with it and that is one of very few fond memories I have of childhood.
We had a major falling out over various things including my relationship (or lack of) with my wretched father. She felt I should love him and see him regardless of what he did to us over my lifetime and that I was a bad daughter. She showed me pictures one Christmas of "Cliff's kids" all five by this particular lady in the picture. She stressed the words Cliff's kids as if she did not consider my brother or me to be his children anymore. This is particularly hard to take from a grandmother. All of the children in the pictures were conceived and born during his marriage to my mother and between the times of him being gone for months at a time and him returning to claim us as his family so he could beat my mother and destroy our house and terrorize us and then leave again to go make more babies with more women. For example, once or twice he had brought this particular woman out to our house while he beat my mother to a pulp. Once he even left her stranded there with us and she helped pick my mother's bloody body off the floor and pack ice on her. This was after a particularly bloody beating in the head with an old heavy rotary dial phone that used to hang on our wall. I found the whole experience of his mistress and her little baby being there with us especially hurtful and insulting as my dad still thought of my mom and us as his property yet he brought them there to our house to witness what he did to us. Sorry, grandma, if I don't find that particularly paternal or feel that I owe him anything more than to maybe spit in his face.
That combined with her lies about me when I was a teenager that began circulating in family and then on to my mother including some nonsense involving cults and sacrifices and being a whore. This all came during the time I had gotten pregnant and unfortunately miscarried our first baby which my mother was fully aware of as I told her straight away I was pregnant and suffered her wrath severely from that point until the day I left home. During those years I wore a lot of black and listened to lots of "dark" music including, but certainly not limited to, The Cure, the Misfits and Danzig so of course in a small town like mine that meant that I sacrificed babies to Satan, right? Stories began to trickle back to my mother of sightings by my aunts and grandmother of me sitting on old men's laps all over town. I have no idea where the fuck all that came from and found that part sort of amusing.
So as you can imagine, I didn't have anything more to do with that side of the family from that point forward. I have only spoken to my grandmother once since I was fifteen. I took Logan to her house to trick-or-treat once when he was about two. I guess I wanted her to see what she was missing out on. It was uncomfortable and sad. So I never went back. I figured that part of my life was dead as so many other parts were and are now. I miss her though, or the idea of her. The person I thought I knew when I was very little. My step-grandfather died a few years ago. I wasn't told until two weeks after his funeral. That is a whole other sad story.
When we go to Ohio I drive past her house to look for a light on. It is comforting in some little way. I look up at the windows and remember what each room looked like inside and all of the things that were there when I was little. I think about being snowed in during the blizzard with her and making homemade Christmas ornaments. I think about the dollhouses she made and how much love and time she put into every little detail from start to finish and I think about all of the military stuff that was always tucked into closets and corners because my step-grandfather was a retired Army Colonel. I think about the crucifix that hung over the bed in the baby blue room that used to intimidate me into saying my prayers each night before I went to sleep, prayers that were never answered until I drove out of that town and left all of that life behind. Each time I think of the day when we will drive past and someone else will be living there. That is probably the only way I will know she is gone. Anyway...here's to you grandma.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying
‘Tis you, ‘tis you must go and I must bide
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
‘Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me
And I shall hear, tho’ soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you’ll not fail to tell me that you love me
I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me
I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me
Posted by gwendolyn on March 17, 2005 at 11:40 AM
Degrees
My husband attended a movie premiere last night at SxSW which featured Dominic Monaghan and both he and Elijah Wood attended the premiere. If we were to play the Kevin Bacon game on this one it would go like this...I am married to someone who attended the premiere with someone who was in a movie with Viggo Mortensen. That would make me like two degrees to Frodo and Merry and three degrees to Aragorn. That also puts me at three degrees to Liv Tyler and four degrees to Aerosmith. The same could be said for the Wilson Brothers as they were at a premiere earlier in the week for a movie they all put together. So now I am two degrees from them and three degrees from anyone they have been in a movie with, including Jackie Chan.
Now that I think about it Al Franken is there too and I am not sure if Johnny Depp has been on SNL when Al Franken was on there but even if he hasn't someone he has been in a movie with surely has so that would put me three degrees to Depp, also. Al Franken puts me three degrees to any actor or actress or singer that has been on SNL while he was on there. Actually, Mariah just informed me that I am two degrees from Depp because he was in a movie with Jon Favreau, who was in Rudy with her! She is zero degrees to a hobbit as Sean Astin has actually touched her while she was in that movie with him. Does touching the person make you zero degrees because if it does that changes everything?
Update: I am only two degrees to Viggo and one degree to the hobbits as Elijah brushed past Terry last night and actually touched him so that makes him zero degrees and me one. So I am getting closer by the minute. Also, I have just been informed I am only two degrees to Kevin Bacon, Sean Penn, and Tim Robbins as Terry attended a thing with Marsha Gay Harden the other day. That puts me three degrees to Clint Eastwood. Also, had terry used his invites to a bunch of the premiere parties this week he would have gotten to see Billy Bob Thornton and see and hear Lyle Lovett so do they count as degrees or not, after all they did attend the events of SxSW along with my husband?
Come to think of it I am zero degrees to Henry Rollins as I have actually put my arm around him and so I am two degrees from a bunch of cool punk bands too. It would blow my mind to try to figure that all out but I do have to point out that that puts me two degrees from the Ramones.
Does being front row at the Cure concert make me zero degrees or one degree from Robert Smith? I didn't actually touch him but I might have gotten some sweat on me and I do think I made eye contact with both him and Simon at some point.
Unforunately, that is about as exciting as my week has gotten.
Posted by gwendolyn on March 15, 2005 at 10:54 AM
Got Ink?
Here is a picture of my tattoo on my hip bone redone. It is about six inches wide and three inches tall. I would show you a picture that shows more of where it is located but then you'd be subjected to my horrid stretch marks along with it and you would go blind. Maybe I will just get every place I have scars tattooed. Now that's an idea!
Posted by gwendolyn on March 09, 2005 at 06:55 PM
Rubbin' On The Bathroom Floor, So Sore
I suppose I will have to get out my map and mark off all the states we can't live in now.
In other news, the second anniversary of my ileostomy reversal passed on March 3rd. I wish I could say that it was the end of all of that mess but in actuality June of this year will mark the one year anniversary of me being completely well again. So I think there is more cause to celebrate that when it rolls around.
Terry had been home sick for the last five days and hopefully no one else in the house will get what he had because it was horrible. He is now suffering from some sort of chest thing. He needs to get better quick for his trip to Austin next week. I spent a few nights on the couch trying to avoid the virus and will be amazed if I don't get it after yesterday's um... activities.
Jake started obedience training Saturday morning. This is an attempt to gain complete control over the actions of my now forty-one pound tan tornado before he becomes so big and unruly that there is no way the kids can handle him. He is a very good puppy. He is even obedient most of the time. He just loves to jump on us and gnaw on us. He also likes to pull us down the street. This was all cute when he weighed fifteen pounds. It isn't so cute now that he can knock us flat on our backs when he leaps at us. He is one strong mofo and now he is bigger than Hope. He also seems to think he is higher on the food chain than Savannah and steps are being taken to correct this misunderstanding before it becomes a problem.
Posted by gwendolyn on March 07, 2005 at 09:21 AM
Nightmares
After going to bed around midnight last night I dreamed logan was about 8 again and that Jake got loose from him in the woods and I couldn't find him and we were yelling for each other but couldn't find each other. Then it got dark and cold (like in the 30s so not snow but cold) and I still couldn't find him and finally early the next morning right around dawn when I did finally find him he was huddled at the base of a very big tree with no shoes or coat on and he was in shock and his eyes were twitching and he was stiff and his lips were blue and his eyes were kind of glassy and he was not recognizing me or coherent. As I scooped him up to start running back toward the house with him I looked around and his shoes and coat and other stuff was about four feet away from him. It had just been so pitch black that he couldn't find his way back to it and gave up right near it. I started running toward the house where my grandma was and I was screaming and crying and that is when I woke up breathing really hard and crying. It was very realistic. It was horrible.
Then the night progressed from that at 3:30 to medicating one fevered and chilling Terry at 3:45, to two chilly girls (due to their window accidentally being left open), one mother running around the house in the dark kissing children and covering them up and making sure all the doors and windows were locked and turning on the heat, to one scared can't get back to sleep Hopie at 4:00, and a then a wrong number wake up call from Lonny at 7:30 that made me run down the stairs so fast my feet barely touched the floor because obviously someone was dead to be getting a call that early... after sleeping so lightly from all the earlier drama that a pin dropping in the garage would have made me jump out of the bed two floors up.
Needless to say I am not moving so fast today. Why is it that more often than not I have nightmares?
Posted by gwendolyn on March 02, 2005 at 10:48 AM