Still working on my book...hope to have it completed by Christmas.Here is an excerpt from chapter, "When I was a child, I thought as a child."
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Prologue: I have found some peace living in the shattered pieces of a broken family.
I sort out things, kind of like prose mixed in with poetry. The poetry is raw, the prose includes heartache. Yet, as my eyes look into the rear view mirror, long broken, the value in each person's heart, is dearly missed.
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Although our family was a broken one,
We shared our feelings freely.
Not always understanding the other
We spoke things quite revealing.
We seemed to build our dysfunctional family on two principles from The Godfather: 1. " A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man." 2. " Never tell anybody outside the family what you are thinking, again." What we failed to include were certain conditions had to be met in order to follow these 2 main rules.
As a result, we experienced some brutal words between us. We sometimes "put locks on our doors and if need be, alarms at our gates." We lived apart, we lived close by, and there were times many of us did not really understand why. Some tried to control while others dismissed another because they were named after the wrong relative. Emotions ran high, causing discomfort and pain. Still, family ties remained strong, at least for a time. Yet, time did take its toll.
Divorce was always an option, regardless of religious preferences. Everything and everyone had limits. Some did choose this road out of necessity. Sometimes the same 2 remarried, other times we were introduced to new spouses with the same first name ( Cindy 1 and Cindy 2), and still other divorcees never remarried, but lived together for the rest of their lives. At times teeth were sharp, growls were heard, and victims left stranded in the dark. Yet, in all this confusion, our celebrations continued...everyone coming together for a magical gathering during the holidays.
My family did not always play well together, yet no one could ever...permanently leave.
So, one by one, they died.
Mom read to us bedtime stories
Nursery Rhymes not included.
Too dark and too abhorrent,
Hidden in mysterious seclusion.
Her passion were the mystery novels
Agatha Christie favorite of all.
In an oversized rocker she would read
Wrapped in a soft lined prayer shawl.
Christie's novels all leather bound
Gently displayed for any folk.
Reading to us the very latest
Her eyes sparkling as she spoke.
It wasn't long after our questions
We began to grow quite dreary.
She would kiss, tuck us under cover
As we drifted off too weary.
Mom did not care for nursery rhymes because many were written in reference to human suffering. "London Bridge is Falling Down" was an example of such rhymes she would point out to defend her action.
Mom did teach us a few "fundamental principles" as she called them. For example, she thought there were two basic appearances one needed in life:
1. Always have a smile on your face when greeting someone. She would instruct our brother and I in detail, demonstrating a proper smile to use in public. Then we would practice, having us curve each end of our lips upwards, but just a smidgen! She was not in favor of a "Cheshire" grin. Mom would quote from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland "Please would you tell me" said Alice, "Why your cat grins like that? It's a Cheshire cat," replied the Duchess. Mom thought when one smiles too much or too big, it made others uneasy and often suspicious.
2. Mom would insist we open our eyes just a little more, in any initial greeting. Her rationale was it gives to others a nonverbal message we have interest in what a person is about to say, even if we do not. She stressed sublimity in doing so. We should never project an image our eyes so enlarged like we were scaring the hell out of someone, but rather a soft, yet mysterious look that translates respect in what a person is about to say.
Another aspect of my dear Mom was the emphasis she gave to our home life. She pointed out our home should be a place each of us as core members should be free to "let our guards down." We must allow our real selves to find freedom in sharing various thoughts, whether those thoughts be quite raw or polished. Our expressions or feelings could be joyous, happy, sad, or sometimes depressing. We should always feel free to reject another's opinion provided we do so respectfully. After all, many have houses to go to each night, yet few have homes. Amidst the daily turbulence we face, a home allows our dreams to give birth and the fears from the turbulence diminished.
Mom loved the literary works of Charles Dickens and would quote "Charity begins at home, and justice begins next door."
She seemed to see for miles,
Bringing harmony coupled with peace.
Her advice a fresh drink of cold water
Refreshing as a summer breeze.
She knew of a secret in laughter
In the midst of deep personal pain,
Divorce had struck her own heart
Yet her love for him remained.
Inter-family ties had grown too bitter
Dad just had to go.
We were told their love was over
Yet their eyes still had a glow.
Mom did not have the courage
To overcome the dark and grim,
Told their love was over
Make your choice---us or him?
Mom had been sheltered
Dad now forced to go.
As I look back and ponder
She needed help you know.
Later in life, I had the honor of introducing a friend of mine to my dad. His name is Christ Jesus. Dad and Him seemed to really hit it off. My dad changed alot the last 10 years of his life. He seemed to really love Him as a true friend. He taught Dad how to love, forgive, and dad expressed at times how he missed my mom...even to the end. My Dad died in my arms on the early morning of March 31st, 1995.
I was equally honored to assist my mom in rededicating her heart to Him a few years before she passed away. I was with her, in a nursing home, the night she lay sleeping in her bed. She rolled over on her right side, opened her eyes and looked at me one more time. She never awoke.
Yea, you bet I wonder if dad was there to greet her.....
" With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven coveted, her and me."
"Annabel Lee" written by Edgar Allan Poe
-----------------------------------------
Prologue: I have found some peace living in the shattered pieces of a broken family.
I sort out things, kind of like prose mixed in with poetry. The poetry is raw, the prose includes heartache. Yet, as my eyes look into the rear view mirror, long broken, the value in each person's heart, is dearly missed.
-----------------------------------------Although our family was a broken one,
We shared our feelings freely.
Not always understanding the other
We spoke things quite revealing.
We seemed to build our dysfunctional family on two principles from The Godfather: 1. " A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man." 2. " Never tell anybody outside the family what you are thinking, again." What we failed to include were certain conditions had to be met in order to follow these 2 main rules.
As a result, we experienced some brutal words between us. We sometimes "put locks on our doors and if need be, alarms at our gates." We lived apart, we lived close by, and there were times many of us did not really understand why. Some tried to control while others dismissed another because they were named after the wrong relative. Emotions ran high, causing discomfort and pain. Still, family ties remained strong, at least for a time. Yet, time did take its toll.
Divorce was always an option, regardless of religious preferences. Everything and everyone had limits. Some did choose this road out of necessity. Sometimes the same 2 remarried, other times we were introduced to new spouses with the same first name ( Cindy 1 and Cindy 2), and still other divorcees never remarried, but lived together for the rest of their lives. At times teeth were sharp, growls were heard, and victims left stranded in the dark. Yet, in all this confusion, our celebrations continued...everyone coming together for a magical gathering during the holidays.
My family did not always play well together, yet no one could ever...permanently leave.
So, one by one, they died.
Mom read to us bedtime stories
Nursery Rhymes not included.
Too dark and too abhorrent,
Hidden in mysterious seclusion.
Her passion were the mystery novels
Agatha Christie favorite of all.
In an oversized rocker she would read
Wrapped in a soft lined prayer shawl.
Christie's novels all leather bound
Gently displayed for any folk.
Reading to us the very latest
Her eyes sparkling as she spoke.
It wasn't long after our questions
We began to grow quite dreary.
She would kiss, tuck us under cover
As we drifted off too weary.
Mom did not care for nursery rhymes because many were written in reference to human suffering. "London Bridge is Falling Down" was an example of such rhymes she would point out to defend her action.
Mom did teach us a few "fundamental principles" as she called them. For example, she thought there were two basic appearances one needed in life:
1. Always have a smile on your face when greeting someone. She would instruct our brother and I in detail, demonstrating a proper smile to use in public. Then we would practice, having us curve each end of our lips upwards, but just a smidgen! She was not in favor of a "Cheshire" grin. Mom would quote from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland "Please would you tell me" said Alice, "Why your cat grins like that? It's a Cheshire cat," replied the Duchess. Mom thought when one smiles too much or too big, it made others uneasy and often suspicious.2. Mom would insist we open our eyes just a little more, in any initial greeting. Her rationale was it gives to others a nonverbal message we have interest in what a person is about to say, even if we do not. She stressed sublimity in doing so. We should never project an image our eyes so enlarged like we were scaring the hell out of someone, but rather a soft, yet mysterious look that translates respect in what a person is about to say.
Another aspect of my dear Mom was the emphasis she gave to our home life. She pointed out our home should be a place each of us as core members should be free to "let our guards down." We must allow our real selves to find freedom in sharing various thoughts, whether those thoughts be quite raw or polished. Our expressions or feelings could be joyous, happy, sad, or sometimes depressing. We should always feel free to reject another's opinion provided we do so respectfully. After all, many have houses to go to each night, yet few have homes. Amidst the daily turbulence we face, a home allows our dreams to give birth and the fears from the turbulence diminished.
Mom loved the literary works of Charles Dickens and would quote "Charity begins at home, and justice begins next door."
She seemed to see for miles,
Bringing harmony coupled with peace.
Her advice a fresh drink of cold water
Refreshing as a summer breeze.
She knew of a secret in laughter
In the midst of deep personal pain,
Divorce had struck her own heart
Yet her love for him remained.
Inter-family ties had grown too bitter
Dad just had to go.
We were told their love was over
Yet their eyes still had a glow.
Mom did not have the courage
To overcome the dark and grim,
Told their love was over
Make your choice---us or him?
Mom had been sheltered
Dad now forced to go.
As I look back and ponder
She needed help you know.
Later in life, I had the honor of introducing a friend of mine to my dad. His name is Christ Jesus. Dad and Him seemed to really hit it off. My dad changed alot the last 10 years of his life. He seemed to really love Him as a true friend. He taught Dad how to love, forgive, and dad expressed at times how he missed my mom...even to the end. My Dad died in my arms on the early morning of March 31st, 1995.
I was equally honored to assist my mom in rededicating her heart to Him a few years before she passed away. I was with her, in a nursing home, the night she lay sleeping in her bed. She rolled over on her right side, opened her eyes and looked at me one more time. She never awoke.
Yea, you bet I wonder if dad was there to greet her.....
" With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven coveted, her and me."
"Annabel Lee" written by Edgar Allan Poe
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