More than one thing can occur at the same time and if your life has been fortunate enough not to know that- then congratulations and if you can’t accept that first premise then there’s really no point in reading further.
Yes, I could have gone back to Canada but due to the events chronicled and posted in I m not a terrorist ( I wasn‘t entirely comfortable with that.- and yes, I was afraid something weird might happen. Funny how in trying to avoid weird I went straight into the eye of weirdness. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, though the truth is just like in Alabama I didn’t consider the full range of possible consequences or even the idea that there might be. Twoie was and still maybe a massage therapist who specialize(s/d) in cranial-sacral work and who also did and does energy work, it’s how she works and she did erase whatever the Atlantan osteopath had screwed up thereby making it possible for me to return to school.
So it’s a week or so before Easter 2006 and Twoie and I make sure I get an appointment with her before she leaves for a couple weeks in France. She does the usual as well as some energy work on my heart chakra in particular but we’d been working on them for months. We talk about her upcoming trip to France courtesy of a couple whose house she furnished; she’d downsized whilst they‘d just bought a big house but had no money for furniture. And now years later in 2006 they’re taking her to France. All conditions were normal. A little vibration is standard- no need to be alarmed, yes this I knew, had encountered it before -have a good trip yaadada yadada.
If you’ve ever had chakra work done then you know- it’s kind of a weird sensation. All of sudden there’s vibration at/coming from some section of your body - you can feel it like when someone beats the drum or if you turn the base way up on speakers or how sound reverberates off you at the symphony. One figures you put your hand on that body section and you’ll feel the muscles and tendons producing this vibration except- they’re not. Its kind of like being a drum or sound and for me I got vibration from the throat, but mostly the heart or Anahata maybe because if one were to do my chart, as someone once did- all my elements are air. Though I blamed it on a guy who in the spring 1990 in Alabama wanted to do this heart chakra thing so we’d “always be connected”. Why he’d want to do that with a girl he had nothing but fear and suspicion for I’ll never know but that and what follows I do perceive as being related.
Just before the last day of Islam class prior to the holiday break I was walking towards The Simmon Center‘s main entrance and hear “Maren”.
I look around and there’s Twoie, her cute chameleon seat covers for a light, she was taking her dogs to be boarded and then off to France. I thought about mentioning it but then the light changed, we waved goodbye and I went to class. And then it started doing it again and in class, for most of class. The vibrations coming off/from Anahata weren’t passing they were getting longer and stronger…and I was starting to be concerned. I didn’t know if I should be concerned but now with Twoie gone- and yes in hesitation I missed my window but I didn’t know that at the time.
Fortunately I could talk to my class friend Patricia about it, dual major Religious Studies and Biology, pre-med. Pilates instructor, MBT convert and total animal junkie, my kinda‘ people. We’d had some nice talks; she considered herself an atheist but she was having a hard time maintaining that kind of overarching nihilism. It was a session with a reiki that had opened her up to there being a layer shall we say, or as she said it:
“So she put these cold stones on my back- except they weren’t cold it felt like there was heat coming off of them she gave one for me to touch because I didn’t believe what was happening,” what self respecting biology major would “and they were cold to the touch, so I can’t reject that there is something, there is, I felt it, there‘s something I just know I don‘t know what it is.”
So I knew I’d want to talk to Patricia about this vibration thing because it was well - not behaving in a normal manner. So I waited for Patricia outside after class, she’d been in some debate with our professor who had near proudly announced to the class “I have ADD” which meant fun things for the class like: oh writing down incorrect dates, forgetting what century she was talking about, writing questions that made no sense to anyone, asking questions for class discussions, and exams, that were routinely difficult for anyone to even translate -
“Is that a question?”
“I don’t know” I’d say to study bud.
The woman was a portrait of human disorganization. Problem was I was one of many SNAP students; many of which were already starting to lodge complaints against the professor. Her reviews were legendary - but she came from the Ivy so she could be as incompetent as she wanted and probably get tenure because she could teach a college level class in Islam. Post 911 they were in high demand.
Nearly everyone had cleared out by the time Patricia met me outside.
“I thought you’d have left- thanks for waiting”. We usually walked to our cars together and mine was super close- I’d gotten kick ass parking in front of the building, a minor miracle on St. Phillips street. As I’d waited I’d wondered how to even phrase this: “ I’m vibrating at levels I don‘t feel comfortable with- can you assist me somehow?”
I covered the situation: - massage, Twoie, chakra’s, yeah. Vibrations normal- yeah I know but this different, I think I don’t know - would you feel it please- I’m totally hetero and but this is seeming abnormal. Patricia held her hand out about 5-6 inches away from my chest.
“ you’ll never feel it from there-”
“No,” she said looking a might freaked out herself “I can feel it from here”.
I looked at her like- “this IS a bit much isn’t it?’
“How long has it been doing that?” she asked, like a future doctor.
“A week or so”
“No how long has it been doing THAT?”
I felt momentarily confused.
“It hasn’t been doing that all week!”
“No, no, no it started up again about an hour ago”.
“An hour?“
“Yeah,“ I said not actually liking that my reality was being confirmed, I’d hoped she’d just blow it off like I’d been trying to.
“You should that get that shut down”
“Yeah I was wondering about that”
“No I mean it you should get that shutdown-”
“Yeah I know but Twoie just left for France she’s gone for like-”
We went over how long Twoie would be gone and Patricia’s take was- no get that shut down. And maybe she was right.
“I know someone - the Reiki, here’s my email,” which I liked ‘arrow path’ “I’ll send you her contact information”.
“Okay”
Patricia sent me the reiki chick’s info and I don’t even know that I called her at that time, I really well -like the Counting Crows sang “ I am not worried - I am not overly concerned”. An hour or two after class my heart chakra had stopped vibrating and I’d figured - well maybe that’s the end of it?
I may have been in denial.
Easter Sunday- I went to Folly. Great parking on a parks gold pass- plus no danger of losing my car, a distinct possibility at the time on Sullivan’s. I brought a book and admittedly I don’t remember precisely what order things happened in except that I was vibrating again. I can’t say for certain if that’s what distracted me out of my book or if it was a big shadow from what I assumed was a really big bike kite. Except there were two guys in wetsuits, not windsurfers but some new kinda’ sail? The whole thing felt very surreal for some reason- I might have been having a complex seizure at the same time- no I was definitely having a complex seizure at the same time. Probably triggered by that flick and flutter of light change from the kite - sail….So I’m vibrating and I’m seizing. It was the weirdest thing. Not that there isn’t a perfectly logical explanation.
It just happened that it was Easter Weekend and I tend to be - well Easter Weekend always reminds me of someone. Christ you say? No I try not think about they did to that guy - what they worship themselves (ie: humanity) having been done to him. Stories can be read more than one way and that one reading, that one interpretation- is all that’s allowed. In Islam it’s called “closing the door”, the mechanics are the same.
But I digress. So my heart chakra’s vibrating. I didn’t feel panicky yet, I was still totally fine -seizing and vibrating like a bongo . And yes I did research chakra work and it can lead in rare cases to psychosis all I know is there was some writing in the sky. Which there is a totally reasonable explanation for: practice for a sky writer three dashes and two concentric circles. Nothing weird about it all.
I don’t know why and I don’t ever expect to know and I don’t need to know and don’t know that I’d want to know- but for some reason --- and here’s what does get me: I trusted THAT, I trusted the experience I was having- whatever it was. And okay- maybe that was my first mistake and yes there‘s a very, very, very long list.
Anyway for whatever reason it occurred to me to Goggle him.
I’d given the exercise certain parameters 1 page, 1 hit, that’s it. So I go home. Turn on computer which just had to last until the end of the semester until Best Buy could find whatever was glitching it up . I pulled up google ran a name search “John Mayo” - there are legions of them and as I was confined to page one. I pulled up a guy and was mildly horrified by the eyes. If I’d only clicked on the economics professor, or the faith healer or even “JOHN MAYO IS A LIAR”. But I didn’t, I made an earnest guess- the resume and unfortunately it fit because this set of eyes I didn’t know.
Was I still vibrating oh and any time I say that I mean was my heart chakra vibrating - at that point? I have no idea if I was vibrating or catching a break again. I wrote him a - well for me a brief note sent it and did some research. I did some research because that’s what I do. Brain injury and I was reading - a few pages would take hours but - if you have a problem: research- somewhere there’s an answer. Did the same thing on the heart chakra debacle that was forming.
I found more pictures. And of course I occasionally was vibrating, my computer was being a royal pain in the ass.
What finally motivated me try and get in touch with the reiki, email Twoie and even turn to any shingle up on the web was when I went into a 6-8 hour vibration. That officially freaked me out. And then of course there was the email I didn’t send, something along the lines of : have you had any strange vibrations lately because I’m having an issue- remember when we”. I couldn’t do it “he probably doesn’t even remember”. That was my thought- that and I mean- oh man part of me was really just so incredibly displeased. Last time I see him - I’m high on carbon monoxide- this time I’m fucking vibrating- oh that’s just perfect - oh that’s just fucking great.
And of course that’s just when I became the object of a prank, though it would turn out I was actually being hazed. Once I left the idiot realm I’d just figured it was a thirteen year-old-ish-kid who couldn’t really appreciate the emotional violence of what he’d done. I had a primary suspect even- computer wiz-ish, a serious authority problem- some condition that’s so intense it’s technically a learning disorder-I can‘t remember the proper name for. I didn’t see what came coming at me- or maybe I was in denial about that. But really who suspects they’re gonna get hazed, off campus, by soon to graduate seniors form a school you don’t even attend?
And if the preceding paragraph sounds unlikely- well yeah and so was everything before the preceding paragraph.
You know how coincidences are usually scattered and occur as singularities? happening once every few months or even years, all of sudden they are a couple times a day, every day. Every week- It was like that for the next couple weeks. And I don’t like it when coincidences cluster bomb me, because that’s what it felt like being frickin’ cluster bombed.
And when I went downtown to just escape the other simul-hurricane what was King Street covered in? Hearts. Everywhere you looked, every shop window covered in hearts.. That was the theme you see for Spoleto or Piccolo 2006 and to me seeing all those hearts, even now, even remembering it now all these years it still makes me cry because it‘s just so sad.
At the time, for me, I felt like I was in hell.
So let’s review: I’m vibrating all over the place and for whatever reason or set of reasons I google a guy. And who do I find- not by beloved but some angry white guy- and being such what exactly is there to be all angry about in the first place?
Oh and then I’m officially launched into hell because voila he’s not an artist but working for the NSA, following in his father’s pentagon footsteps and he’s been watching my back because all my ultra liberal letters to Senator Graham and taking a class in Islam has landed me on a watch list. (In George Bush’s America not exactly unlikely. Also not helpful that the last time I’d been in contact with technology everything occurring via wireless wasn’t the stuff of college pranks but more of a Will Smith /Gene Hackman movie. After which of course I hire the one PI in town whose bread and butter client was and has been the entity with which I’m having off campus hazing issues. And my opinions on feminist Islam- oh look that research has disappeared - and oh shit I can’t into my cougar trail account because somebody changed the damn password.
And the guy who wanted to link our heart chakras so we’d always be connected- where’s he? Oh he’s safely tucked away in None-of-This-Happening-Land.
So did I tell him everything?
Noooo.
.
Eventually I stopped vibrating and by the time Twoie came back to town she had a caution about new male clients because I’d been approached not by the thirteen-year-old-prankster but a 22 friggin years old and having a good ol’ time and seemingly on a hunt for mojo nutbar into animal mutilation and cyber hacking.
I think, no I’d definitely told Twoie about ‘Bama previously. She worked on me after a whole league of things that I‘m just plain not going to talk about. As she worked on me something came spilling out of my back, it was cold but it felt hot too at the same time, just poured out of my back. That had been what concerned a reiki I finally talked to, that I’d been wirelessly online with this guy while I was in one those couple of hours heart chakra vibration things.
What came out of my back, I’d never felt anything like that before and I don’t know if even Twoie had. After our last appointment, I wouldn’t go back after not what happened to me but Twoie. She looked me straight in the eyes after she’d poured out whatever out of my back and “I am not afraid of negative energy” but I was afraid for her
After that appointment she wasn’t the same and even the chick she practices with looked up shocked, I mean we were speechless- like stunned at what came out of Twoie’s mouth: a cutting self deprecating- full of self hate remark. You’d have to know Twoie to fully appreciate that. I never let Twoie work on me again though she knows someone who can break any connection.- chick on Folly of all places.
So that’s what I didn’t tell him, that‘s what I‘ve been withholding since 2006, that’s the secret I kept- the secondary or tertiary layer of what went on at that time. Was it a good time to try and integrate his files? No definitely not but after a certain point that hazing might go into killing had me feeling kinda’ pressed for time.
1990, University of Alabama he’d wanted to do something so that “we’d always be connected”. Why he‘d always want to be connected to a girl he had and has nothing but fear and suspicion for I‘ll never know.
I disclosed really the more likely thing that was on my plate at the time; and that which was more immediately pressing and I wasn’t believed so ya’ know why disclose any of the other stuff? And I know not fair and its probably not accurate but the two incidences, simul-hurricanes, they felt related and I blamed him, was furious at him, just furious.
Fair?
No.
True?
Yes
And I guess even all these years later a coincidence hits, and that’s the thing they still feel like hits. And that was really so unlike me; I’d always found them, that phenomena very life affirming, like seeing a rainbow or a butterfly. What happened that summer actually changed my relationship with a phenomena- and I’m not over it yet. I was so scared and overwhelmed and when I turned to him - just bs, bs, bs.
For nearly a year I was under the misimpression that mail took ten business days to get from coast to coast.
Y?
Because he lied to me, which was uber unfair as we were not exactly operating at the same grade level.
Did I lie? Yeah, I didn’t fully disclose and quite frankly why should have I? What possible incentive was there for that? Would I have been more or less likely to be believed?
Less.
Why tell the whole truth if no one’s going to believe you anyway?
anna begins
Monday, May 10, 2010
u & me r meant 2 b?
My dogs always had more than one name. Sam was of course Sam, Samantha when she was entering a zone of rule breaking, Pooh Bear, Pooh, Bear, Babe- she always knew who was I talking to. Dr. Smith had a nickname for her as well- no one told me about it until after Sam died: “The Great Spirit”- she certainly was and had that.
But in my house she had many a name, one of which I said - well was overheard saying as I talked to Randy right after the Hurricane Floyd traffic jam- “inside bear“ I said as a local GSD mix with canine socialization issues was coming up the walkway.
“Bear… “ Randy said with a hushed tone and I could feel something prickling over the phone line from him “that’ s my dog’s name… my dog‘s name is Bear too”
“We both call our dogs Bear,” Randy said at which I began to prattle “Her name’s Sam - pooh bear’s just a nick name - you know Winnie the Pooh, sometimes she‘s pooh, sometimes she‘s bear- sometimes she‘s both” .
But to Randy, at the time, “bear” held meaning- I could feel Meant 2 B pulsating from him. But to me I didn’t see or feel that way about “(B/b)ear” or anything else where he was concerned, never had. And there were these current and past aspects of me that he “knew” in advance. He “knew” I’d make my own candles, he submitted a few of those over the weeks and then months that followed. For him and maybe for the audience of me -a connection between us. And that’s not to say there wasn’t and isn’t one- just that we didn’t read that connective tissue the same way.
Some of the old dynamics came quickly back into play- not just with him but definitely with me as well.
I requested an old photo of myself - me in the best shape of my life wearing a u-Tarzan-me-Jane bikini against the foreground of his name written in sand. Unfortunately his wife, recently 2 b x-wife had found where he’d been keeping it all those years- in his wallet, total betrayal.
She had torn that picture to pieces, couldn’t say that I blamed her. Would have been a nice photo to have when I was eighty though- sadly the only photo I have of me in that bikini was one my father took on the sly. Which does reflect the overall truth better but I don’t have to like it.
“Bear” and how Randy’s story of he and I was understood from his perspective. To him that coincidence which I don’t and didn’t think then as even qualifying as one- but in his world- at least at that moment- bear was the tone and tenor- that we both called our dogs bear was indicative of shall we say a “cosmic comm link“. Actually- so I’VE said, there is no we.
Maybe that is in fact the key to two people who are actually meant to be - when their inner narratives are least the same shape or at least have enough in common with each other’s that they‘re either on the same page or can at the very least see, the others margins.
I am very clear on all the coincidences simply being an aspect of a story- that’s mine and mine alone, my narrative. And I am very clear on coincidences regarding the other condiment being my thing with the condiment and reflective of no one and nothing else but me, myself and I.
But in my house she had many a name, one of which I said - well was overheard saying as I talked to Randy right after the Hurricane Floyd traffic jam- “inside bear“ I said as a local GSD mix with canine socialization issues was coming up the walkway.
“Bear… “ Randy said with a hushed tone and I could feel something prickling over the phone line from him “that’ s my dog’s name… my dog‘s name is Bear too”
“We both call our dogs Bear,” Randy said at which I began to prattle “Her name’s Sam - pooh bear’s just a nick name - you know Winnie the Pooh, sometimes she‘s pooh, sometimes she‘s bear- sometimes she‘s both” .
But to Randy, at the time, “bear” held meaning- I could feel Meant 2 B pulsating from him. But to me I didn’t see or feel that way about “(B/b)ear” or anything else where he was concerned, never had. And there were these current and past aspects of me that he “knew” in advance. He “knew” I’d make my own candles, he submitted a few of those over the weeks and then months that followed. For him and maybe for the audience of me -a connection between us. And that’s not to say there wasn’t and isn’t one- just that we didn’t read that connective tissue the same way.
Some of the old dynamics came quickly back into play- not just with him but definitely with me as well.
I requested an old photo of myself - me in the best shape of my life wearing a u-Tarzan-me-Jane bikini against the foreground of his name written in sand. Unfortunately his wife, recently 2 b x-wife had found where he’d been keeping it all those years- in his wallet, total betrayal.
She had torn that picture to pieces, couldn’t say that I blamed her. Would have been a nice photo to have when I was eighty though- sadly the only photo I have of me in that bikini was one my father took on the sly. Which does reflect the overall truth better but I don’t have to like it.
“Bear” and how Randy’s story of he and I was understood from his perspective. To him that coincidence which I don’t and didn’t think then as even qualifying as one- but in his world- at least at that moment- bear was the tone and tenor- that we both called our dogs bear was indicative of shall we say a “cosmic comm link“. Actually- so I’VE said, there is no we.
Maybe that is in fact the key to two people who are actually meant to be - when their inner narratives are least the same shape or at least have enough in common with each other’s that they‘re either on the same page or can at the very least see, the others margins.
I am very clear on all the coincidences simply being an aspect of a story- that’s mine and mine alone, my narrative. And I am very clear on coincidences regarding the other condiment being my thing with the condiment and reflective of no one and nothing else but me, myself and I.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
May(d/ D)ay
I read something recently and I just plain haven’t been right since. Its nothing new, my little right on cue timing- nothing new there. Nothing new in some kind of a cosmic comm link which only runs one way.
Henderson. “Henderson Cottage” and all the while I’m on Henderson as well- in a different way but there I am with Henry Mayo. These coincidences have always shaken me up where Henry’s concerned, where John Henry’s concerned its been twenty years of this, of this same thing. Over and over. Secrets I’ll probably never tell. Who would believe them anyway.
And of course those aren’t coincidences, I put those in an entirely different category because that way I can manage them, that way I can deal with that fact that I‘ve missed him for twenty years- maybe longe, who's to say.
I have to- well I don’t have to but I owe an old beau an apology . And what bothers me is I’m apologizing for something that used to be, that once was so unlike me. I couldn’t at the time figure out how we went from trading messages to full stop but then I remembered; Randy’s dad died, died back before Hurricane Floyd and we had talked about it at length.
Okay amnesia but, I just I feel badly about it. I was never that kind of person- I mean I remembered so fantastically well. The juxtaposition of these two boys I dated then, men now, makes me hyper aware of how just unfair it all is. Who and what I remembered and who I just plain forgot, and I forgot everyone, everything and I think of Randy reading that “your Dad must have really hated leaving the lake”.
A cap just flew off a spice jar- so who knows maybe Ron is still there.
But I forgot and in that I suppose I know a bit of what it is, has been to be the one I remembered because he forgets.
Randy’s been on my mind a lot probably because I saved a note and recently found it. The intense left lean of his script but what I remembered first was of course about the one the I didn’t forget and its not been for lack of trying. But what I remembered first, Randy had called right after Floyd during his separation, started calling a lot. He got married really young and the truth of the matter was I broke his heart, he broke mine too just in a different way.
It was 1999 and I was in my, largely left behind first stage of getting all the things left unsaid, said - in case the survivalists were right. I’d just finished Writing Poetry I and - well I wrote about him, the one I didn’t forget. All I remember now is “With Linderberg’s air /the fair haired- “ then total blank but I’d talked to Randy about contacting John Henry, for some reason I felt a substantial pull to. Had for over a year- Randy was - how he always was “writing is for pussies- have some balls and call him” though he started discouraging that pretty vigorously.
That’s what I remembered first, which of course led to remembering other people and specifics. Randy really knew me or at the very least - nknew where I came from. We’d both seen where the other had come from because we were each still there at the time.
And we stuck up for each other, first time he met my parents- my father in particular that’s what happened. Same with me, we wouldn’t participate in watching the other being shat upon and in that sense it was probably one of the healthiest relationships I’ve ever had. But it also had its own forms of toxicity because his protection, his presence which completely recalibrated our household it was contingent on us being an us and after a point that was the only reason I was in it. Which he eventually coppd to knowing but because he “loved me”- well that’s the reason he gave but I don’t define love like that and he be became an extension of the time I was doing, from five up all I was doing was time.
I remember when we talked, started talking after Floyd he said “My brother, Kenny?, and I we’re still not close our relationship never recovered from you”. He blamed me for that. Blamed Dusty for him owning a house that he’d bought “because of Dusty”. I remember sitting there and really wanting to tell him- not to hurt him just to say: Dude what you told me, what led to the incident that marred your all’s relationship- you told me your brother would be fiinnne, fine, fine with us being at the house- that’s how I came to be there. Only when you jumped up freaked out that Kenny and his wife were home did I get the first clue that you’d lied to me. Turned out Kenny and his wife- not at all the types to be fine with us being in a bedroom alone together. That’s when you told me- they were serious Bible beaters. And Kenny never forgave Randy for that, the relationship they had had ended and in Randy’s world - I’m sure to this day- that’s my fault. It’s not because he lied (of course it is and was) or anything that could have been responsible for that little scene.
Blew my mind- but it’s not like that’s hard.
Randy, he’s the one I’ve remembered my family through- what actually went on there, what normal was for my last two and half years of high school.
I don’t know why but - well it’s not even that it’s been on my mind, files open and there’s the video. I remembered the Sears counter first but for some reason last night I got me, walking into the mall on my way to work and spying the outfit I’d save up for- anyway.
It must have been my junior year? Right before senior year- spring or summer, school was out and I had a problem which meant I called Randy. There was no one else to call- it was how we met actually- there was no one at home for me to call- and if I did it would cost me.
There’d been something with the Corolla and I took it straight to Sears before I went to work, something with the breaks. The lead mechanic said there was no way I could drive it - it had be fixed- was dangerous, etc,etc..And I knew my parents wouldn’t accept that.
So Randy and I stood there at the counter, him picking me up because it was never worth calling my parents. The Sears guy calls either KFC or home and explains the situation not expecting to have to debate anything, but a debate ensued none the less and the mechanic started looking uncomfortable.
“The car is dangerous for her to be in,” he’d covered this before but he now delivered what he thought was the debate ender “You’re not understanding me she could die-”
Now the mechanic looked really uncomfortable and I knew what was being said, had been said, I wasn’t surprised- it only ever surprised me when he’d, that he really didn’t know that to other people the degree in which he hated his kid was - well odd.
“Okay - Someone else could die, she could be in an accident and cause multiple injuries and fatalities-”
…No I’m talking about her getting hurt I’m talking about someone else- the car has been in my shop and I will not allow her drive it - do you understand me!?.. You want to drive it- tow it- whatever but she is not leaving in that car I am NOT taking on the liability- you want to take on the liability come here and drive it home yourself”.
I remember feeling really ashamed because that was the truth, that’s who I was, I was the kid who nobody cared- well not my family at least if I lived or died.
Everyone but Kari grew to love Randy, she hated him, my Mom adored him, my father mostly hid from him - though eventually he started working on manipulating him. There was this sudden change, this warmth- the charm, the con and I knew, Martha’d fed him intel and there was only ever one thing he did with that.
“Did you tell Dad about Randy’s relationship with his father, about his father never coming to his football games?”
Yeah and twenty years with the man and she still acted like she didn’t know just where that was going, just how he’d utilize it. I warned Randy and granted it was near the end but he was lapping up the male approval which meant for me- I’m in greater state of jeopardy. Randy assured me he wasn’t getting played, but I knew he was though even I hadn’t seen what was coming, could never see as far forward with my father as I needed to.
I was called into the office one day by both the parental units, though they were more units than parental. What I was hearing was that Kari had had a boy over when no one was home, Randy had busted her to my parents. Kari had been grounded and I sat there wondering how this was going to come back on me. Kari’d been the soul of discretion where Nick was concerned, I figured she might have thrown that out there and my parents wouldn’t think twice about a month’s grounding for something that had happened two years ago. Heck one my first groundings had been because someone’s parent had been late driving me home- Mr. Bruns had me home fifteen minutes late - so I was grounded. Had made perfect sense to my parents- of course everyone thought it was nuts “Yeah but why would you be grounded because someone- because a parent was driving”. If it involved me- it was my fault, that was the law of the land.
So Kari had a boy over and Randy had told probably Mom about it and she’d of course deferred to the head lunatic so I was sitting in the office waiting to hear how this was really my fault. Nick was the only thing that had come to mind, couldn’t figure how they were gone to turn this around on me. Fact was once Randy came into the picture my groundings lessened because even though I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere but school - Randy could still drive over, would, show up unannounced even and Mom was always glad to see him.
“We’ve decided to tell Kari that you told us,” I was genuinely surprised and didn’t react so my mother took over the dialogue “See we don’t want Kari to be angry with Randy”. I just nodded my head and I guess that was unsatisfying- I didn’t fight anymore, didn’t bother but then there was that glint in my father’s eye, that satisfied grin - he was coming to something he liked, it was in his head and now he got to say the line
“She already hates you,” he said with that Cheshire cat grin. started tearing up, pushed it back.
“Is that all?” I asked as mother looked confused and neither answered - they’d apparently been expecting a show.
“Is that all?- is there anything else or can I go now?”
Yeah I could go that was all they had, for the moment. But I’d seen what apparently they’d each been missing since the beginning; Kari had nothing but daggers in her eyes for Randy. She did hate him- see he’d done something unforgivable. Kept John in check, was nice to Martha and me but then there was the coups de gras. It wasn’t directed at her- well maybe it was but he did it for me just like when the first time I met his Dad I made it clear in no uncertain terms that I was not standing for him screaming at his son. To Randy’s Mom that was outrageous “Oh that even isn’t Ron yelling”.
“Except he is yelling and I am not listening to that all day- we are leaving”.
Within fifteen minutes of pulling into the lakehouse- we pulled out. The rule held- I was around: no yelling. Randy was around- none of the various forms of my father’s bullshit. He’d been given an easy enough directive: solid food- or liquid food - you touch anyone in this house again- nothing but soft food on a permanent basis pal. But that wasn’t what Randy’s note was about, Randy’s note was when he decided it was going to stop and he was going to stop it.
We of course did go back to the lake house and I’d gotten to wear the bathing suit I’d had on layaway since January or so, cruise season. We went to the lake, came back and the suit disappeared but my things were always disappearing. Of course -well there was crossing my name out of books and writing her own and which was replaced by us receiving the same gifts. Even if we were given the same, she would have to have both. Then of course the crawl attic had to be closed up because that had proved a good stash point for a little treasure trove of my things which had been collected and gathered because- well it’s what she did. Sharing or asking her, telling her that if she asked I’d let her wear whatever just please don’t go in my room and take things…because sometimes, a lot of the time they’d just disappear, never to be seen again and I kept a neat room. It had been a problem in terms of my job at the Limited we had things that we had to wear, and all too often what I needed to wear would just up and disappear, like it walked out of the house.
Randy didn’t date the letter, the one I found, the one I kept- who’d have thought it was for lest I forget.
Everyone at work knew about the stealing thing because I’d get unnerved sometimes when what I’d laid out or was planning on wearing disappeared and I’d have to throw something together. Came into work nearly- no definitely hysterical-I’d waited until I got out of the car to lose it. My father had driven me work because - well Mom had found a lump and it was all the stress I was putting on her “You have to make Kari stop stealing”. I remember feeling like my brain would explode, that happened a lot I’d hear something so nuts I couldn’t process it; see their daughter stealing from me that was because of me because I couldn’t make her stop. She wasn’t their job- she was my job, she wasn’t responsible for her behavior- I was responsible for her behavior- everything was my job, my fault.
Randy’s note- see he’d gotten tired of it “you work all the time and then you have nothing to show for it…I care about you”. Some months it was hundreds of dollars of stuff just gone- a gift that was really dear- gone. It was my normal - had been since I was seven or so. Didn’t matter where I hid things- I couldn’t get her to stop and by the time high school came around-no one ever actually figured it out, that her friends had become the stash points, like the attic crawl space had been.
It was only when I bemoaned the “lost” suit in computer lab to Gretchen Gracy- because that’s how I always framed it- or had been told to frame it- if I couldn’t prove she stole it - I lost it, whatever it was. Nice little mind fuck my parents came up with.
But finally one day Randy had had enough, walked in the house and up the stairs towards the bedrooms- a move that made nearly both my parents blabbering and indignant. “How dare you,” they actually said that “you know boys aren’t allowed on the stairs”. With toolbox in hand he knelt down in front of my door, Kari opened hers watching this full out scene. Randy was replacing my doorknob, period and I’d have a key so I could lock my room.
“She works all the time and then she has nothing to show for it,” kari was there, red faced and furious “You won’t make her stop - so I will”. She slammed her door, she loved slamming doors, cupboards
Funny, never had anything stolen out of dryer in college- no only at home. Never had a roommate take money out of my wallet- only at home. I stopped going home because I just plain could not afford it- well that and Kari was furious when I did. See in her world I wasn’t supposed to exist and everything that was mine was really supposed to be hers.
When I was getting ready to go to college Kari told my mom that she wanted her picture or at least that’s how she framed a Renoir print that had been headed for the basement and I’d asked if I could put it in my room about six years earlier. That actually seemed to freak Mom out- Kari apparently had quite a fit- Martha couldn’t understand how Kari would and really believed that a painting that had never hung in her room, only mine and before that the living room, how she could perceive it as hers.
Technically- it made no sense but to Kari it did, to this day it still would.
I remember a guy a I dated and fell for hard asking me once “where do you see your relationship with your father going?” I was stunned then, just floored by the context- relationship? Going? And I sat there knowing - no way this guy can even develop a working concept of my father and what, who exactly that was. -Now my father- well he thought when he got a divorce he’d finally get to date his daughters. Didn’t work out that way. I remember sitting there as he started trying to run a con on me, as if he could, as if I hadn’t been paying very close attention for a very long time.
May(d/ D)ay can mean a lot of things. One is just plain: help. Another well in Kentucky it’s more the first Saturday in May and in New jersey it was May Day, like the may pole. Mom and Kari and I would make little four compartment baskets out of construction paper, fill the compartments with candy and flowers. Leaving just at sunrise we’d drive to houses of friends and leave a Mayday basket on their front door handle. No card, when she first started what became a tradition that began and ended in Jersey Mom would answer people’s questions as to who it might be from?
“Someone who knows about May(d/ Day)”
Henderson. “Henderson Cottage” and all the while I’m on Henderson as well- in a different way but there I am with Henry Mayo. These coincidences have always shaken me up where Henry’s concerned, where John Henry’s concerned its been twenty years of this, of this same thing. Over and over. Secrets I’ll probably never tell. Who would believe them anyway.
And of course those aren’t coincidences, I put those in an entirely different category because that way I can manage them, that way I can deal with that fact that I‘ve missed him for twenty years- maybe longe, who's to say.
I have to- well I don’t have to but I owe an old beau an apology . And what bothers me is I’m apologizing for something that used to be, that once was so unlike me. I couldn’t at the time figure out how we went from trading messages to full stop but then I remembered; Randy’s dad died, died back before Hurricane Floyd and we had talked about it at length.
Okay amnesia but, I just I feel badly about it. I was never that kind of person- I mean I remembered so fantastically well. The juxtaposition of these two boys I dated then, men now, makes me hyper aware of how just unfair it all is. Who and what I remembered and who I just plain forgot, and I forgot everyone, everything and I think of Randy reading that “your Dad must have really hated leaving the lake”.
A cap just flew off a spice jar- so who knows maybe Ron is still there.
But I forgot and in that I suppose I know a bit of what it is, has been to be the one I remembered because he forgets.
Randy’s been on my mind a lot probably because I saved a note and recently found it. The intense left lean of his script but what I remembered first was of course about the one the I didn’t forget and its not been for lack of trying. But what I remembered first, Randy had called right after Floyd during his separation, started calling a lot. He got married really young and the truth of the matter was I broke his heart, he broke mine too just in a different way.
It was 1999 and I was in my, largely left behind first stage of getting all the things left unsaid, said - in case the survivalists were right. I’d just finished Writing Poetry I and - well I wrote about him, the one I didn’t forget. All I remember now is “With Linderberg’s air /the fair haired- “ then total blank but I’d talked to Randy about contacting John Henry, for some reason I felt a substantial pull to. Had for over a year- Randy was - how he always was “writing is for pussies- have some balls and call him” though he started discouraging that pretty vigorously.
That’s what I remembered first, which of course led to remembering other people and specifics. Randy really knew me or at the very least - nknew where I came from. We’d both seen where the other had come from because we were each still there at the time.
And we stuck up for each other, first time he met my parents- my father in particular that’s what happened. Same with me, we wouldn’t participate in watching the other being shat upon and in that sense it was probably one of the healthiest relationships I’ve ever had. But it also had its own forms of toxicity because his protection, his presence which completely recalibrated our household it was contingent on us being an us and after a point that was the only reason I was in it. Which he eventually coppd to knowing but because he “loved me”- well that’s the reason he gave but I don’t define love like that and he be became an extension of the time I was doing, from five up all I was doing was time.
I remember when we talked, started talking after Floyd he said “My brother, Kenny?, and I we’re still not close our relationship never recovered from you”. He blamed me for that. Blamed Dusty for him owning a house that he’d bought “because of Dusty”. I remember sitting there and really wanting to tell him- not to hurt him just to say: Dude what you told me, what led to the incident that marred your all’s relationship- you told me your brother would be fiinnne, fine, fine with us being at the house- that’s how I came to be there. Only when you jumped up freaked out that Kenny and his wife were home did I get the first clue that you’d lied to me. Turned out Kenny and his wife- not at all the types to be fine with us being in a bedroom alone together. That’s when you told me- they were serious Bible beaters. And Kenny never forgave Randy for that, the relationship they had had ended and in Randy’s world - I’m sure to this day- that’s my fault. It’s not because he lied (of course it is and was) or anything that could have been responsible for that little scene.
Blew my mind- but it’s not like that’s hard.
Randy, he’s the one I’ve remembered my family through- what actually went on there, what normal was for my last two and half years of high school.
I don’t know why but - well it’s not even that it’s been on my mind, files open and there’s the video. I remembered the Sears counter first but for some reason last night I got me, walking into the mall on my way to work and spying the outfit I’d save up for- anyway.
It must have been my junior year? Right before senior year- spring or summer, school was out and I had a problem which meant I called Randy. There was no one else to call- it was how we met actually- there was no one at home for me to call- and if I did it would cost me.
There’d been something with the Corolla and I took it straight to Sears before I went to work, something with the breaks. The lead mechanic said there was no way I could drive it - it had be fixed- was dangerous, etc,etc..And I knew my parents wouldn’t accept that.
So Randy and I stood there at the counter, him picking me up because it was never worth calling my parents. The Sears guy calls either KFC or home and explains the situation not expecting to have to debate anything, but a debate ensued none the less and the mechanic started looking uncomfortable.
“The car is dangerous for her to be in,” he’d covered this before but he now delivered what he thought was the debate ender “You’re not understanding me she could die-”
Now the mechanic looked really uncomfortable and I knew what was being said, had been said, I wasn’t surprised- it only ever surprised me when he’d, that he really didn’t know that to other people the degree in which he hated his kid was - well odd.
“Okay - Someone else could die, she could be in an accident and cause multiple injuries and fatalities-”
…No I’m talking about her getting hurt I’m talking about someone else- the car has been in my shop and I will not allow her drive it - do you understand me!?.. You want to drive it- tow it- whatever but she is not leaving in that car I am NOT taking on the liability- you want to take on the liability come here and drive it home yourself”.
I remember feeling really ashamed because that was the truth, that’s who I was, I was the kid who nobody cared- well not my family at least if I lived or died.
Everyone but Kari grew to love Randy, she hated him, my Mom adored him, my father mostly hid from him - though eventually he started working on manipulating him. There was this sudden change, this warmth- the charm, the con and I knew, Martha’d fed him intel and there was only ever one thing he did with that.
“Did you tell Dad about Randy’s relationship with his father, about his father never coming to his football games?”
Yeah and twenty years with the man and she still acted like she didn’t know just where that was going, just how he’d utilize it. I warned Randy and granted it was near the end but he was lapping up the male approval which meant for me- I’m in greater state of jeopardy. Randy assured me he wasn’t getting played, but I knew he was though even I hadn’t seen what was coming, could never see as far forward with my father as I needed to.
I was called into the office one day by both the parental units, though they were more units than parental. What I was hearing was that Kari had had a boy over when no one was home, Randy had busted her to my parents. Kari had been grounded and I sat there wondering how this was going to come back on me. Kari’d been the soul of discretion where Nick was concerned, I figured she might have thrown that out there and my parents wouldn’t think twice about a month’s grounding for something that had happened two years ago. Heck one my first groundings had been because someone’s parent had been late driving me home- Mr. Bruns had me home fifteen minutes late - so I was grounded. Had made perfect sense to my parents- of course everyone thought it was nuts “Yeah but why would you be grounded because someone- because a parent was driving”. If it involved me- it was my fault, that was the law of the land.
So Kari had a boy over and Randy had told probably Mom about it and she’d of course deferred to the head lunatic so I was sitting in the office waiting to hear how this was really my fault. Nick was the only thing that had come to mind, couldn’t figure how they were gone to turn this around on me. Fact was once Randy came into the picture my groundings lessened because even though I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere but school - Randy could still drive over, would, show up unannounced even and Mom was always glad to see him.
“We’ve decided to tell Kari that you told us,” I was genuinely surprised and didn’t react so my mother took over the dialogue “See we don’t want Kari to be angry with Randy”. I just nodded my head and I guess that was unsatisfying- I didn’t fight anymore, didn’t bother but then there was that glint in my father’s eye, that satisfied grin - he was coming to something he liked, it was in his head and now he got to say the line
“She already hates you,” he said with that Cheshire cat grin. started tearing up, pushed it back.
“Is that all?” I asked as mother looked confused and neither answered - they’d apparently been expecting a show.
“Is that all?- is there anything else or can I go now?”
Yeah I could go that was all they had, for the moment. But I’d seen what apparently they’d each been missing since the beginning; Kari had nothing but daggers in her eyes for Randy. She did hate him- see he’d done something unforgivable. Kept John in check, was nice to Martha and me but then there was the coups de gras. It wasn’t directed at her- well maybe it was but he did it for me just like when the first time I met his Dad I made it clear in no uncertain terms that I was not standing for him screaming at his son. To Randy’s Mom that was outrageous “Oh that even isn’t Ron yelling”.
“Except he is yelling and I am not listening to that all day- we are leaving”.
Within fifteen minutes of pulling into the lakehouse- we pulled out. The rule held- I was around: no yelling. Randy was around- none of the various forms of my father’s bullshit. He’d been given an easy enough directive: solid food- or liquid food - you touch anyone in this house again- nothing but soft food on a permanent basis pal. But that wasn’t what Randy’s note was about, Randy’s note was when he decided it was going to stop and he was going to stop it.
We of course did go back to the lake house and I’d gotten to wear the bathing suit I’d had on layaway since January or so, cruise season. We went to the lake, came back and the suit disappeared but my things were always disappearing. Of course -well there was crossing my name out of books and writing her own and which was replaced by us receiving the same gifts. Even if we were given the same, she would have to have both. Then of course the crawl attic had to be closed up because that had proved a good stash point for a little treasure trove of my things which had been collected and gathered because- well it’s what she did. Sharing or asking her, telling her that if she asked I’d let her wear whatever just please don’t go in my room and take things…because sometimes, a lot of the time they’d just disappear, never to be seen again and I kept a neat room. It had been a problem in terms of my job at the Limited we had things that we had to wear, and all too often what I needed to wear would just up and disappear, like it walked out of the house.
Randy didn’t date the letter, the one I found, the one I kept- who’d have thought it was for lest I forget.
Everyone at work knew about the stealing thing because I’d get unnerved sometimes when what I’d laid out or was planning on wearing disappeared and I’d have to throw something together. Came into work nearly- no definitely hysterical-I’d waited until I got out of the car to lose it. My father had driven me work because - well Mom had found a lump and it was all the stress I was putting on her “You have to make Kari stop stealing”. I remember feeling like my brain would explode, that happened a lot I’d hear something so nuts I couldn’t process it; see their daughter stealing from me that was because of me because I couldn’t make her stop. She wasn’t their job- she was my job, she wasn’t responsible for her behavior- I was responsible for her behavior- everything was my job, my fault.
Randy’s note- see he’d gotten tired of it “you work all the time and then you have nothing to show for it…I care about you”. Some months it was hundreds of dollars of stuff just gone- a gift that was really dear- gone. It was my normal - had been since I was seven or so. Didn’t matter where I hid things- I couldn’t get her to stop and by the time high school came around-no one ever actually figured it out, that her friends had become the stash points, like the attic crawl space had been.
It was only when I bemoaned the “lost” suit in computer lab to Gretchen Gracy- because that’s how I always framed it- or had been told to frame it- if I couldn’t prove she stole it - I lost it, whatever it was. Nice little mind fuck my parents came up with.
But finally one day Randy had had enough, walked in the house and up the stairs towards the bedrooms- a move that made nearly both my parents blabbering and indignant. “How dare you,” they actually said that “you know boys aren’t allowed on the stairs”. With toolbox in hand he knelt down in front of my door, Kari opened hers watching this full out scene. Randy was replacing my doorknob, period and I’d have a key so I could lock my room.
“She works all the time and then she has nothing to show for it,” kari was there, red faced and furious “You won’t make her stop - so I will”. She slammed her door, she loved slamming doors, cupboards
Funny, never had anything stolen out of dryer in college- no only at home. Never had a roommate take money out of my wallet- only at home. I stopped going home because I just plain could not afford it- well that and Kari was furious when I did. See in her world I wasn’t supposed to exist and everything that was mine was really supposed to be hers.
When I was getting ready to go to college Kari told my mom that she wanted her picture or at least that’s how she framed a Renoir print that had been headed for the basement and I’d asked if I could put it in my room about six years earlier. That actually seemed to freak Mom out- Kari apparently had quite a fit- Martha couldn’t understand how Kari would and really believed that a painting that had never hung in her room, only mine and before that the living room, how she could perceive it as hers.
Technically- it made no sense but to Kari it did, to this day it still would.
I remember a guy a I dated and fell for hard asking me once “where do you see your relationship with your father going?” I was stunned then, just floored by the context- relationship? Going? And I sat there knowing - no way this guy can even develop a working concept of my father and what, who exactly that was. -Now my father- well he thought when he got a divorce he’d finally get to date his daughters. Didn’t work out that way. I remember sitting there as he started trying to run a con on me, as if he could, as if I hadn’t been paying very close attention for a very long time.
May(d/ D)ay can mean a lot of things. One is just plain: help. Another well in Kentucky it’s more the first Saturday in May and in New jersey it was May Day, like the may pole. Mom and Kari and I would make little four compartment baskets out of construction paper, fill the compartments with candy and flowers. Leaving just at sunrise we’d drive to houses of friends and leave a Mayday basket on their front door handle. No card, when she first started what became a tradition that began and ended in Jersey Mom would answer people’s questions as to who it might be from?
“Someone who knows about May(d/ Day)”
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