I went home with Linda & Richard. After we’d picked up flowers and cards. I sat at her dining room table that night and wrote out every single thank you card. I just needed to get it done.
Then came the worry about my baby. I clearly remembered saying at the hospital, that I couldn’t have this baby, didn‘t want this baby. I couldn’t do this. And now came the worry. Had I cursed the baby? Would it be ok? Would God punish me for saying that? Maybe I deserved punishment, but please God, not this baby. I didn’t mean it. So, now my goal was to HAVE this baby. And days went by. I went for long walks. I never sat down for more than a couple of minutes. I had Richard take me to the Ford Plant where he worked and drive me over and over railroad tracks hoping to start labor. Nothing. Nada. This went on for days.
Finally, nine days after Harm died, I went to the Doctor and begged him to induce labor. NOTE* Not my family doctor. Dr. J had stopped delivering babies by then. I was going to a new guy, didn’t like him a lot. An old German with old fashioned beliefs. And, I’d pay for that!
So. He agreed to meet me at the hospital that afternoon and induce me. I got there, he came in and broke my water. (things were way different in 1972. No fetal monitors and such)
And then he left. He said I’d probably go into labor in about six hours or so.
WRONG.
By the time he got back to his office about 6 miles away, the hospital was calling for him to return as I was ready to deliver. This was when epidurals were just becoming available. Linda had one with Leigh Ann and said it was painless. Thus, the new doctor. Yeah. By the time he turned around and came back, I was so far advanced that there was no anesthesia. Period. Totally unprepared for natural labor. What a horrible experience. This was before birth was a family affair. No one got in the delivery room in those days. They brought my mother in, wrapped in surgical gear from head to toe, to try to calm me. Yeah, right. They gave me gas & I was certain they were trying to kill me. I ripped off the mask, ripped out the IV and I was ready to get the hell outta Dodge.
Then she was born. Jennifer Ann Ratliff. March 13. 1972.
And she was healthy and well and I hadn’t cursed her. What a blessing.
Background: I’d explained to the Dr that I didn’t want to be around anyone else. Please inform the staff of my circumstances. I wanted a private room, at my expense, if necessary. It just didn’t seem fair to me that someone else’s joy should be diminished because they were rooming with a recent widow. Made sense to me and mine. I didn’t want to be around a happy little family. Special circumstances, right? Right.
First off, after he broke my water, I was roaming the halls. Trying to get this whole thing going. A nurse said to me, “Why don’t you just go down the hall to where your husband is waiting for you.” OK.
Then she was born. Jennifer Ann Ratliff. March 13. 1972.
And she was healthy and well and I hadn’t cursed her. What a blessing.
Background: I’d explained to the Dr that I didn’t want to be around anyone else. Please inform the staff of my circumstances. I wanted a private room, at my expense, if necessary. It just didn’t seem fair to me that someone else’s joy should be diminished because they were rooming with a recent widow. Made sense to me and mine. I didn’t want to be around a happy little family. Special circumstances, right? Right.
First off, after he broke my water, I was roaming the halls. Trying to get this whole thing going. A nurse said to me, “Why don’t you just go down the hall to where your husband is waiting for you.” OK.
After delivery, you guessed it. Double room with a happy mother of a first newborn. OK. Then the gal with the photos showed up. Left the pictures with me so “my husband and I could look them over.” And the worst blow?
Literally. Turned out my doctor believed in breast feeding. I didn’t. And I didn’t know this. Linda has small breasts and never a problem. I’d gone through hell after Traci with full breasts and refilling breasts. Like a freakin’ faucet. What did he offer me? No pills to dry me up. Nurse Rachett came into my room and LITERALLY dropped two ice bags onto my swollen breasts. I cried harder then than I had since the funeral. Exquisite Pain. Never felt before or since that time. Unbelievable pain.
I called Dr J from the hospital and requested he call me in a prescription to dry me up. He came through. But, it was a bit too late. I came home and mother ripped up sheets. She and Linda bound me. I don’t know which of the three of us was crying hardest. It was ultimate pain. For me physically, for them emotionally, to have to hurt me so bad when I was so broken. A weird sort of bonding ritual.
I don’t remember a lot after that. I believe I went through life in a sort of fog for several months. Not a lot of details. I don’t remember much about anything at that time. How Traci was coping. She seemed alright to all of us. I hope she was.
I can’t remember much about Jennifer as a little baby. I do remember that she was exactly the baby I needed. It was like Harm picked her out for me. She slept through the night from the day she came home. Hardly ever cried. Nearly always content and happy. Actually, much like she is now. My family must have just pushed me through the days. I don’t remember much at all for several months. Except for shopping monthly with my father when our social security checks came in. Weird, huh?
So, that’s pretty much the end of the story. Except it’s never really ended. I remember it clear as day every year around this time . I wish I didn’t. But then again, someone has to remember, don’t they? Otherwise it’s all gone. And if not me? Who is there to remember that a wonderful man lived and died? Way too soon. Way way too soon. His children don’t remember him. His parents are gone. Who else to keep his memory alive? I can’t just walk away and pretend he never existed. He did. And he was. And I loved him.
I would so hate to be forgotten. Maybe, that’s what this is all about. My own ego. Immortality. If no one remembers you, you’re gone. Period. Perhaps it’s my job to remember. I hope someone takes on that job for me when I’m gone. And I hope it’s all of my children, and their children and on and on. Because he truly was a good soul. It should be remembered that he lived. And was loved. And was loving. He was here and poof……gone. But, he did indeed leave his footprints. On my heart.
I had his headstone engraved “Those who knew him could not help loving him.” I hope 100 years from now, when anyone sees that stone, they’ll give him a thought and acknowledge that he must have been quite a guy, to earn that saying on his grave. That would make me happy.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
GRACE
Not So.
That’s the day the world changed.
March 4, 1972. He was 23 years and just shy of 4 months old. I was 22, just a month and a day till my next birthday.
I started all this writing thinking that I’d just bite off a little bit at a time. Slow and easy. Maybe I’d finally get it all down and out and perhaps, just maybe, find an ending. Something. Whatever. But, guess what? I just feel frantic now to get it written down while I can. Just to get it over with. Where the hell is all this going anyway? The story always ends the same.
But, I can’t be the last to remember him. Someone after me has to know the story and pass it on. Harm dies. It changed the rest of my life. And
Traci & Jen’s. And it certainly changed the rest of his.
Oakwood Hospital.
Staff rushed him from the ambulance to emergency. Next thing I know, someone is settling me into a wheel chair. I remember thinking, “they see I’m pregnant, how nice of them.” Isn’t it weird what we remember? And what we don’t? Someone sat me down and then left. There was no one around.
This doctor comes up to me and says. “Mrs. Ratliff ?”. I respond, “yes”. He says to me “Your husband is no longer alive.” And turns and walks away.
Seriously. Just that statement and he turned his back and was leaving. I couldn’t believe what I thought I heard him say. I jumped up and said “Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”
He repeated what he’d said, “Your husband is no longer alive.” And he left. Yes, he really and truly just walked away like it didn’t matter. And I was alone.
I think maybe that’s when the shock set in. And over the next couple of days. I experienced more shock than I thought anyone could endure. But, somehow we do. I’ve come to believe that that’s TRUE GRACE. God’s free gift to get to us through that which we would NEVER be able to overcome alone. I think that’s why I’m still hanging in today. Grace.
So, I’m sitting there alone, sobbing, when my parent’s walk into the emergency room.
My Mother rushes over and says, “How is he?” I looked at her and remember saying, “They didn’t tell you?
“He’s dead. DEAD. He can’t be dead. I can’t have this baby. I don’t want this baby!” And then I collapsed into her waiting arms. Next thing I remember is going out to the parking lot. Linda & Richard were waiting. Daddy had called. Linda walked up to me, I said, “Please don’t say anything.” And she didn’t. She just led me to the backseat and held me while I cried all the way home. Again, she came through just as I needed her that day.
We went to my parent’s house. We had telephone calls and arrangements to make. Bless her, Linda did nearly all of that. Those horrible calls that someone has to make. And nobody wants to receive.
Harm’s parents. There are no words I can come up with to truly explain the horror of having to tell them their son had died. But, I couldn’t NOT do it. If I could redo just that one thing in my life that I had control of, I’d have copped out and let Linda & Richard break the news.
That was almost worse than going through it the first time. I can’t even relate, and hope I NEVER have to, to losing a child. If one could die from will, they would have both died at that moment. Believe me, it was one horrible evening.
Unfortunately, the hospital couldn’t reach our family doctor to sign the death certificate. So instead, they sent poor Harm downtown Detroit, to the morgue where he was autopsied. Sunday morning my father and bro in law, Richard, had to go down to identify the body before he could be released. I never spoke about that with either of them. Daddy’s long gone, but to this day, I could never approach that subject with Richard. Some things you just don’t have to know, you know?
On to the funeral home to make arrangements. That was the first time. I’ve done it four more times since, and it really doesn’t get easier with practice. Then on to Sears to buy a dress. Whoever thought you’d need to buy a black maternity dress the day AFTER your baby was due. And for your husband’s funeral. That’s just crazy.
I let his parents choose the cemetery. It was halfway between their home and ours………..make that mine now. Harm had no family to speak of, except for his parents and an aunt & four cousins in WV. I just wanted this over, no long drawn out days at the funeral home. So, we chose to have the viewing----isn’t that a stupid term? Viewing? For Monday only, all day with the funeral on Tuesday.
It was absolutely amazing how many people showed up so quickly. Really, all of my family that was in the area, friends, co-workers. Even an old boyfriend and his wife. Amazing really. I don’t remember a lot of it, again Grace. But there are some parts never to be forgotten. I was holding up pretty well. I remember my mother and sister trying to keep be down. In a chair. When anyone new showed up, I popped up to greet them. They were thinking about the baby and the stress on my body. We were all afraid I’d go into labor any minute. Mama told me, “let them come to you. It’s ok. You don’t need to keep getting up.” But, I did.
I only REALLY lost it twice that day. Once, when my cousin Bob hugged me. Again when, of all people, my girlfriend’s father held me. Strange. Nope, we’ll make that three times.
Harm’s boss showed up. He had a check for me. A pretty big check. His own contribution, plus he had spent the entire day going from one shop to another selling off Harm’s tools for me. (Yes, he’d asked first, I said ok via Linda.) Weird thing: some time later I heard that my cousin DarLene was at her weekly bowling league and one of her friends told the sad story of her husband buying some tools that had belonged to a guy who’d suddenly passed away. Yep, 23 years old. With a little girl and a very pregnant wife. Small world, huh?
So, I’d nearly gotten through that day. It must have been 8:00 p.m. Linda and I were sitting in the lounge with a large group of my friends from work.
I don’t know if I can ever explain this to make anyone understand my feelings. But, I’m going to give it hell.
My FIL was a tall man. Probably 6 foot or so. I was sitting down. All of a sudden he walked over to me. I’ll never forget him looming over me. He looked down at me and said,” It’s your fault Harm Jr. is dead. I thought you said you went to the neighbors to get help. I just talked to so & so. (I truly don’t remember the man’s name but he was one of my next door neighbors.) He said you never went to his house!” And I hadn’t. His house was set back and you had to go through a gate to even access the porch. I didn’t go there. I went to the other neighbor who was just a walk down the steps and a run across the lawn. It would be quite an understatement to say I lost it.
I did. I utterly and completely lost it. I began to sob and say, “I tried”. And that’s surely the closest one can come to nearly losing their mind. Everything hurt. I’ll never forget it. Everything hurt. Every tissue in my body, my hair, my fingernails, I could feel pain in every part of my body and my mind. I truly wanted to die right then and there. But, of course, I didn’t.
Next thing I know several of my cousins are literally throwing my FIL out of the funeral home. They probably didn’t even know for sure who he was, they just got him away from me. My cousin JoAnn ran up to my mother and said, “Aunt Kay, somebody said something to Lolli.” I remember Mama running into the room in a rage, saying “What the hell’s going on in here?” I don’t remember much after that. Harm’s aunt & cousins got there just before closing time. I went to the coffin to say my goodnight to my husband and once again all hell broke loose. My mother in law was screaming and sobbing and trying to pull Harm out of the coffin. It was horrible. I had to leave without saying goodnight.
My parents and sister were furious. They hated Harm Sr. anyway for what he’d done way back when. They liked Ruby, but knew that just now, they were bad for me.
The next morning, I took Ruby aside and told her that I could not ride to the cemetery with them. I needed to stay as calm as possible and not have this baby just now. I needed to get through this and they were just making it too hard. I think maybe it sunk in. It wasn’t just about their loss. They’d lost their son, yes, but I’d lost my husband. And the father of my children.
It’s all pretty much a blur after that. I truly and thankfully don’t remember a lot of details. There were yellow roses covering his coffin. Our flower. We shielded Traci from all of this. Richard’s mother watched her for those couple of days. Bless her heart.
That’s the day the world changed.
March 4, 1972. He was 23 years and just shy of 4 months old. I was 22, just a month and a day till my next birthday.
I started all this writing thinking that I’d just bite off a little bit at a time. Slow and easy. Maybe I’d finally get it all down and out and perhaps, just maybe, find an ending. Something. Whatever. But, guess what? I just feel frantic now to get it written down while I can. Just to get it over with. Where the hell is all this going anyway? The story always ends the same.
But, I can’t be the last to remember him. Someone after me has to know the story and pass it on. Harm dies. It changed the rest of my life. And
Traci & Jen’s. And it certainly changed the rest of his.
Oakwood Hospital.
Staff rushed him from the ambulance to emergency. Next thing I know, someone is settling me into a wheel chair. I remember thinking, “they see I’m pregnant, how nice of them.” Isn’t it weird what we remember? And what we don’t? Someone sat me down and then left. There was no one around.
This doctor comes up to me and says. “Mrs. Ratliff ?”. I respond, “yes”. He says to me “Your husband is no longer alive.” And turns and walks away.
Seriously. Just that statement and he turned his back and was leaving. I couldn’t believe what I thought I heard him say. I jumped up and said “Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”
He repeated what he’d said, “Your husband is no longer alive.” And he left. Yes, he really and truly just walked away like it didn’t matter. And I was alone.
I think maybe that’s when the shock set in. And over the next couple of days. I experienced more shock than I thought anyone could endure. But, somehow we do. I’ve come to believe that that’s TRUE GRACE. God’s free gift to get to us through that which we would NEVER be able to overcome alone. I think that’s why I’m still hanging in today. Grace.
So, I’m sitting there alone, sobbing, when my parent’s walk into the emergency room.
My Mother rushes over and says, “How is he?” I looked at her and remember saying, “They didn’t tell you?
“He’s dead. DEAD. He can’t be dead. I can’t have this baby. I don’t want this baby!” And then I collapsed into her waiting arms. Next thing I remember is going out to the parking lot. Linda & Richard were waiting. Daddy had called. Linda walked up to me, I said, “Please don’t say anything.” And she didn’t. She just led me to the backseat and held me while I cried all the way home. Again, she came through just as I needed her that day.
We went to my parent’s house. We had telephone calls and arrangements to make. Bless her, Linda did nearly all of that. Those horrible calls that someone has to make. And nobody wants to receive.
Harm’s parents. There are no words I can come up with to truly explain the horror of having to tell them their son had died. But, I couldn’t NOT do it. If I could redo just that one thing in my life that I had control of, I’d have copped out and let Linda & Richard break the news.
That was almost worse than going through it the first time. I can’t even relate, and hope I NEVER have to, to losing a child. If one could die from will, they would have both died at that moment. Believe me, it was one horrible evening.
Unfortunately, the hospital couldn’t reach our family doctor to sign the death certificate. So instead, they sent poor Harm downtown Detroit, to the morgue where he was autopsied. Sunday morning my father and bro in law, Richard, had to go down to identify the body before he could be released. I never spoke about that with either of them. Daddy’s long gone, but to this day, I could never approach that subject with Richard. Some things you just don’t have to know, you know?
On to the funeral home to make arrangements. That was the first time. I’ve done it four more times since, and it really doesn’t get easier with practice. Then on to Sears to buy a dress. Whoever thought you’d need to buy a black maternity dress the day AFTER your baby was due. And for your husband’s funeral. That’s just crazy.
I let his parents choose the cemetery. It was halfway between their home and ours………..make that mine now. Harm had no family to speak of, except for his parents and an aunt & four cousins in WV. I just wanted this over, no long drawn out days at the funeral home. So, we chose to have the viewing----isn’t that a stupid term? Viewing? For Monday only, all day with the funeral on Tuesday.
It was absolutely amazing how many people showed up so quickly. Really, all of my family that was in the area, friends, co-workers. Even an old boyfriend and his wife. Amazing really. I don’t remember a lot of it, again Grace. But there are some parts never to be forgotten. I was holding up pretty well. I remember my mother and sister trying to keep be down. In a chair. When anyone new showed up, I popped up to greet them. They were thinking about the baby and the stress on my body. We were all afraid I’d go into labor any minute. Mama told me, “let them come to you. It’s ok. You don’t need to keep getting up.” But, I did.
I only REALLY lost it twice that day. Once, when my cousin Bob hugged me. Again when, of all people, my girlfriend’s father held me. Strange. Nope, we’ll make that three times.
Harm’s boss showed up. He had a check for me. A pretty big check. His own contribution, plus he had spent the entire day going from one shop to another selling off Harm’s tools for me. (Yes, he’d asked first, I said ok via Linda.) Weird thing: some time later I heard that my cousin DarLene was at her weekly bowling league and one of her friends told the sad story of her husband buying some tools that had belonged to a guy who’d suddenly passed away. Yep, 23 years old. With a little girl and a very pregnant wife. Small world, huh?
So, I’d nearly gotten through that day. It must have been 8:00 p.m. Linda and I were sitting in the lounge with a large group of my friends from work.
I don’t know if I can ever explain this to make anyone understand my feelings. But, I’m going to give it hell.
My FIL was a tall man. Probably 6 foot or so. I was sitting down. All of a sudden he walked over to me. I’ll never forget him looming over me. He looked down at me and said,” It’s your fault Harm Jr. is dead. I thought you said you went to the neighbors to get help. I just talked to so & so. (I truly don’t remember the man’s name but he was one of my next door neighbors.) He said you never went to his house!” And I hadn’t. His house was set back and you had to go through a gate to even access the porch. I didn’t go there. I went to the other neighbor who was just a walk down the steps and a run across the lawn. It would be quite an understatement to say I lost it.
I did. I utterly and completely lost it. I began to sob and say, “I tried”. And that’s surely the closest one can come to nearly losing their mind. Everything hurt. I’ll never forget it. Everything hurt. Every tissue in my body, my hair, my fingernails, I could feel pain in every part of my body and my mind. I truly wanted to die right then and there. But, of course, I didn’t.
Next thing I know several of my cousins are literally throwing my FIL out of the funeral home. They probably didn’t even know for sure who he was, they just got him away from me. My cousin JoAnn ran up to my mother and said, “Aunt Kay, somebody said something to Lolli.” I remember Mama running into the room in a rage, saying “What the hell’s going on in here?” I don’t remember much after that. Harm’s aunt & cousins got there just before closing time. I went to the coffin to say my goodnight to my husband and once again all hell broke loose. My mother in law was screaming and sobbing and trying to pull Harm out of the coffin. It was horrible. I had to leave without saying goodnight.
My parents and sister were furious. They hated Harm Sr. anyway for what he’d done way back when. They liked Ruby, but knew that just now, they were bad for me.
The next morning, I took Ruby aside and told her that I could not ride to the cemetery with them. I needed to stay as calm as possible and not have this baby just now. I needed to get through this and they were just making it too hard. I think maybe it sunk in. It wasn’t just about their loss. They’d lost their son, yes, but I’d lost my husband. And the father of my children.
It’s all pretty much a blur after that. I truly and thankfully don’t remember a lot of details. There were yellow roses covering his coffin. Our flower. We shielded Traci from all of this. Richard’s mother watched her for those couple of days. Bless her heart.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Saturday, March 4, 1972.
A very pretty early Spring day. The sun was shining. Still a little cool, but the hope of Spring was there. The kind of day when you open up the door and let the sun shine through the storm door. Just because you can. And you feel blessed because you can just FEEL winter passing by and Spring approaching. Birds singing. Flowers just starting to poke their noses out of the ground. My absolute favorite time of the year. New beginnings. Still my absolute favorite time of year.
This day, that changed so many lives, began just like so many others. I got up with Harm to fix his breakfast and lunch. I drank wake-up coffee, he, the ever present Diet Pepsi I was so proud of him. He had gained a lot of weight after we married. Unfortunately, we both have fat family hormones and heredity and heart
disease. Within the past nine months he had lost 63 pounds. Steadily, slowly and surely. I grilled him his favorite. Spam, in the toaster oven. Fruit & veggies and he was set to go. It was Saturday and overtime.
Traci had spent the night with Harm’s parents and we were planning on going over there that evening to play a little Rummy. The In laws stopped by about 3:00 p.m. that day to drop Traci off. But, she decided she wanted to go back home with them. What the heck, good for me, good for them, we’d just get her later on that night when we went there. Small Blessings.
Before he left for work, Harm went up into the attic and pulled down all the boxes of baby clothes we’d stored from Traci. (I told you I was last minute!) I spent the day washing and drying and folding all of those tiny little treasures we’d packed away. Stacking them as Girl or Either. I never really prepared for a boy, as I always knew I would only have girls. Three. Don’t ask. I just KNEW. I was still working on that when he arrived home around 3;30 p.m.
Prior to his getting home, I’d picked up the house and washed and put away the set of red pots & pans his parents had gotten us for our 4th Anniversary. Our anniversary was just nine days before. Harm had gotten me a beautiful Lefton vase with four yellow roses for the occasion. One of my dearest treasures to this day.
I have the best picture of him, with Traci, in front of the trendy console TV with the flowers in the background. On our anniversary. It was the last picture taken of him. And of Traci and her daddy. I had it blown up the next Christmas for his parents. Traci still has it hanging at her house.
So, he came home. We sat in the living room, me folding clothes, and both of us chuckling over these oh so tiny little clothes for the upcoming baby. Around 4:00 p.m. he went to the hall closet to get out the paperwork for registering our car. His mother was going to go to the Secretary of State on Monday to register it for us. She got out of work earlier than he did and volunteered to do it. So, Harm went to get the papers. He took them into Traci’s bedroom to look at them, I guess. That’s when the world changed.
Suddenly, I heard a noise. Then, another noise. What the hell? I thought he was fooling around just to get me to come into the bedroom so he could mess with me or jump my bones or something. What else would I think?
Lord how I wish that had been it. It wasn’t.
Harm was lying sort of half across Traci’s bed and half on the floor. Paperwork was next to him. I freaked. I tried picking him up and pulling him up to the bed, to no avail. He was a big man. I screamed to him to wake up. He didn’t. I ran to the phone and tried to call 911. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I dialed over and over and never connected. I still don’t know what I did, I called my parent’s house, Mother answered. I told her something was wrong with Harm, She told me to hang up and she called 911.
I ran back and tried again to get him to respond. He didn’t.
Next thing I remember is banging on my next door neighbor’s door with no response. I must have been screaming as I remember a neighbor from across the street coming over. And a car passing by, a man got out and came into the house to check on Harm. With the neighbor. I think originally they saw this hugely pregnant woman on the porch, crying and screaming and though I was about to deliver. Whatever. They cared enough to try to help.
Fast forward to the ambulance arriving. Paramedics rushing into the house and escorting me out of the bedroom. My parents showed up. I’m still freaked out. Someone took me out of my house and put me into the front seat of the ambulance. I’ll never forget sitting there, All the neighbors out and staring at me, wondering what was going on. A horrible feeling.
I remember thinking, “Go back to your houses. What are you staring at? This is none of your business. Go away and quit looking at me.” To this day, I do not go outside when I see an emergency vehicle at someone’s house. Police, Fire, it doesn’t matter. I figure it’s really not my business and I just don’t want to intrude on anyone’s pain.
After 100 years they wheeled Harm out on a stretcher. PHEW. We were on our way to the hospital. Everything would be all right. We started out with lights blazing and sirens screaming. Before too long they turned the sirens off. Good Sign. That meant he was out of crisis, right? Now, I knew he'd be ok. Thank God.
This day, that changed so many lives, began just like so many others. I got up with Harm to fix his breakfast and lunch. I drank wake-up coffee, he, the ever present Diet Pepsi I was so proud of him. He had gained a lot of weight after we married. Unfortunately, we both have fat family hormones and heredity and heart
disease. Within the past nine months he had lost 63 pounds. Steadily, slowly and surely. I grilled him his favorite. Spam, in the toaster oven. Fruit & veggies and he was set to go. It was Saturday and overtime.
Traci had spent the night with Harm’s parents and we were planning on going over there that evening to play a little Rummy. The In laws stopped by about 3:00 p.m. that day to drop Traci off. But, she decided she wanted to go back home with them. What the heck, good for me, good for them, we’d just get her later on that night when we went there. Small Blessings.
Before he left for work, Harm went up into the attic and pulled down all the boxes of baby clothes we’d stored from Traci. (I told you I was last minute!) I spent the day washing and drying and folding all of those tiny little treasures we’d packed away. Stacking them as Girl or Either. I never really prepared for a boy, as I always knew I would only have girls. Three. Don’t ask. I just KNEW. I was still working on that when he arrived home around 3;30 p.m.
Prior to his getting home, I’d picked up the house and washed and put away the set of red pots & pans his parents had gotten us for our 4th Anniversary. Our anniversary was just nine days before. Harm had gotten me a beautiful Lefton vase with four yellow roses for the occasion. One of my dearest treasures to this day.
I have the best picture of him, with Traci, in front of the trendy console TV with the flowers in the background. On our anniversary. It was the last picture taken of him. And of Traci and her daddy. I had it blown up the next Christmas for his parents. Traci still has it hanging at her house.
So, he came home. We sat in the living room, me folding clothes, and both of us chuckling over these oh so tiny little clothes for the upcoming baby. Around 4:00 p.m. he went to the hall closet to get out the paperwork for registering our car. His mother was going to go to the Secretary of State on Monday to register it for us. She got out of work earlier than he did and volunteered to do it. So, Harm went to get the papers. He took them into Traci’s bedroom to look at them, I guess. That’s when the world changed.
Suddenly, I heard a noise. Then, another noise. What the hell? I thought he was fooling around just to get me to come into the bedroom so he could mess with me or jump my bones or something. What else would I think?
Lord how I wish that had been it. It wasn’t.
Harm was lying sort of half across Traci’s bed and half on the floor. Paperwork was next to him. I freaked. I tried picking him up and pulling him up to the bed, to no avail. He was a big man. I screamed to him to wake up. He didn’t. I ran to the phone and tried to call 911. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I dialed over and over and never connected. I still don’t know what I did, I called my parent’s house, Mother answered. I told her something was wrong with Harm, She told me to hang up and she called 911.
I ran back and tried again to get him to respond. He didn’t.
Next thing I remember is banging on my next door neighbor’s door with no response. I must have been screaming as I remember a neighbor from across the street coming over. And a car passing by, a man got out and came into the house to check on Harm. With the neighbor. I think originally they saw this hugely pregnant woman on the porch, crying and screaming and though I was about to deliver. Whatever. They cared enough to try to help.
Fast forward to the ambulance arriving. Paramedics rushing into the house and escorting me out of the bedroom. My parents showed up. I’m still freaked out. Someone took me out of my house and put me into the front seat of the ambulance. I’ll never forget sitting there, All the neighbors out and staring at me, wondering what was going on. A horrible feeling.
I remember thinking, “Go back to your houses. What are you staring at? This is none of your business. Go away and quit looking at me.” To this day, I do not go outside when I see an emergency vehicle at someone’s house. Police, Fire, it doesn’t matter. I figure it’s really not my business and I just don’t want to intrude on anyone’s pain.
After 100 years they wheeled Harm out on a stretcher. PHEW. We were on our way to the hospital. Everything would be all right. We started out with lights blazing and sirens screaming. Before too long they turned the sirens off. Good Sign. That meant he was out of crisis, right? Now, I knew he'd be ok. Thank God.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
And Baby Makes Four...........
We found out in August of 1971 that we were having another baby. It was planned, we’d just ditched the pills and made the decision to increase our family size. Back in those days “I” was pregnant. Not “WE“.
And “I” had some problems. Spotting and cramping. The Dr put me on bed rest for 3 weeks. I stayed at my mother’s house and she took ‘bed rest’ very seriously. Damn, lucky I got out long enough to pee. That was it.
Side Story: I loved my doctor and had total faith in him. When I went in and was spotting, we had a big talk. He told me that he could give me seven pills, one a day for a week. And they would more than likely prevent a miscarriage. However, he wasn’t going to put it in my records and I was to tell NO ONE that he’d given them to me. They had been taken off the market, but he still believed in them. So, I had to make a quick decision. Harm and I decided to just go for it. And I’ve never ever regretted that decision.
We wanted this baby. I didn’t ask a lot of questions. I went to mama’s house, took the pills, stayed in bed for three weeks and came out of it all with baby and mother both just fine. No more problems after that. Of course since then I’ve learned of DES.
I just have an ongoing prayer that it doesn’t affect Jennifer and Janka. So far so good. They’re aware of the situation. And I sure can’t change my decision 38 years later. I’ve got Jennifer. And, like Forrest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that.
After that, it was an easy pregnancy. And all three of us were excited. This is again, old times, pre ultrasounds unless there was a damn good reason to do one. And identifying the sex of the baby wasn’t close to reason enough. So, like everybody else, we just wondered what we’d get. What sex baby God had picked for us. And we were happy not knowing and planning.
Harm had some time off for the Christmas Holidays in 1971. So, the day after Christmas we packed up Traci and lots of her new toys and took a trip. We went to West Virginia to visit with his Aunt and only cousins. And then on to Pennsylvania and spent New Years Eve & day with my Aunt Betty and Uncle Jim. A good time was had by all. It was fun. Harm was a football fan so we stopped in Canton at the Football Hall of Fame. I really had no interest, but Traci & I bluffed our way through and it was a good day for him. I’m glad.
We were still tossing names back and forth. I loved Lara--think Dr. Zhivago-- Harm hated it as his grandma’s name was “Laura”. And they mis-pronounced it as “Lara” in West Virginia. That was a no go for him. Maybe Tiffany? Heather? He hated all of them except Jennifer. He wanted Jennifer Ann (for me) if it was a girl.
I vetoed Jennifer as it was just too popular right then. Love Story had been published and everybody was naming their new daughter Jennifer. One of my cousins had just had a Jennifer. Plus, I had an Aunt Jenny. And I associated. And I didn’t care for the association. Nah, we’d compromise and find something else. Maybe it was a boy and we both were happy with Stephen Michael for a boy. Or Michael Stephen. I can’t remember.
After all, this was only mid February. He or She wasn’t due until the 4th of March. We had plenty of time to work it out. No problem.
But, after all the discussion there really was no choice.
And “I” had some problems. Spotting and cramping. The Dr put me on bed rest for 3 weeks. I stayed at my mother’s house and she took ‘bed rest’ very seriously. Damn, lucky I got out long enough to pee. That was it.
Side Story: I loved my doctor and had total faith in him. When I went in and was spotting, we had a big talk. He told me that he could give me seven pills, one a day for a week. And they would more than likely prevent a miscarriage. However, he wasn’t going to put it in my records and I was to tell NO ONE that he’d given them to me. They had been taken off the market, but he still believed in them. So, I had to make a quick decision. Harm and I decided to just go for it. And I’ve never ever regretted that decision.
We wanted this baby. I didn’t ask a lot of questions. I went to mama’s house, took the pills, stayed in bed for three weeks and came out of it all with baby and mother both just fine. No more problems after that. Of course since then I’ve learned of DES.
I just have an ongoing prayer that it doesn’t affect Jennifer and Janka. So far so good. They’re aware of the situation. And I sure can’t change my decision 38 years later. I’ve got Jennifer. And, like Forrest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that.
After that, it was an easy pregnancy. And all three of us were excited. This is again, old times, pre ultrasounds unless there was a damn good reason to do one. And identifying the sex of the baby wasn’t close to reason enough. So, like everybody else, we just wondered what we’d get. What sex baby God had picked for us. And we were happy not knowing and planning.
Harm had some time off for the Christmas Holidays in 1971. So, the day after Christmas we packed up Traci and lots of her new toys and took a trip. We went to West Virginia to visit with his Aunt and only cousins. And then on to Pennsylvania and spent New Years Eve & day with my Aunt Betty and Uncle Jim. A good time was had by all. It was fun. Harm was a football fan so we stopped in Canton at the Football Hall of Fame. I really had no interest, but Traci & I bluffed our way through and it was a good day for him. I’m glad.
We were still tossing names back and forth. I loved Lara--think Dr. Zhivago-- Harm hated it as his grandma’s name was “Laura”. And they mis-pronounced it as “Lara” in West Virginia. That was a no go for him. Maybe Tiffany? Heather? He hated all of them except Jennifer. He wanted Jennifer Ann (for me) if it was a girl.
I vetoed Jennifer as it was just too popular right then. Love Story had been published and everybody was naming their new daughter Jennifer. One of my cousins had just had a Jennifer. Plus, I had an Aunt Jenny. And I associated. And I didn’t care for the association. Nah, we’d compromise and find something else. Maybe it was a boy and we both were happy with Stephen Michael for a boy. Or Michael Stephen. I can’t remember.
After all, this was only mid February. He or She wasn’t due until the 4th of March. We had plenty of time to work it out. No problem.
But, after all the discussion there really was no choice.
Traci
Traci Lynn Ratliff was born at 1:01 p.m. on October 11, 1968.
The sweetest little thing I’d ever seen.
I awoke that morning with some back pain. Not bad, so I had Harm drop me off at my Mother’s house, about 7:00 a.m., before he went to work. I insisted he go to work. I never did like a lot of drama. Went to the Dr. at 10:00 a.m. He examined me and told me to go to the hospital and he’d meet me there. OK. I called Harm home, we stopped by our house to let me grab a few things---no, I didn’t have my bag packed. I guess I’ve always been a last minute kinda gal.
We got to the hospital about noon. Traci blessed us with her appearance (she looked like an Eskimo baby, I swear) at 1:01 p.m. Not a bad time frame for a first baby. Quick and easy. And so worth every bead of sweat.
She was everyone’s darling. The first granddaughter on both sides. The first grand either set of parents had been around. My sister had boys, but they were an Army family and we saw very little of them. So, she was rather like the first for BOTH sets of grandparents. Spoiled? You betcha! By everyone.
The day was wonderful until Guess Who stepped into my room with his congratulations? Yep. FIL. Without a lot of details, let’s just say I banished him from my room and my life. Again.
It came to pass that the only visiting Harm’s parents were allowed to do with Traci was at their house when Harm took her over. I wouldn’t go. For several months. Finally, I decided to put my feelings for FIL aside. My anger was hurting both my husband and his mother. It just didn’t feel fair anymore. So, I swallowed my pride……….with much difficulty, mind you.
And I started visiting again too. I wasn’t comfortable for a very long time. But, I did it and in retrospect, it was the right thing to do. And surprisingly, a lot of years down the road, I’ve almost forgiven him. Not quite, but I learned to live with it. I loved Ruby, they were my girls grandparents. So, I made it work till the day he died.
And yes, I even made that SOB’s funeral arrangements. And paid for his grave and burial. Thank you very much.
And life for the happy little family went on. We bought a cute little house with a nice big lot in Lincoln Park. We had an apple, a pear and a cherry tree in the backyard. And a nice size front porch. It needed a little work, but we did it. Luckily, Harm was handy with tools and very good with math. He’d taught me to paint in our rented homes, so I could handle that.
I remember the first time we tackled painting a bedroom together. Mind you, prior to that day the only thing I’d ever painted was a closet. One closet. Well, when he told me I painted like I was whitewashing a barn, it really hurt my feelings. So, through 19 year old tears, I told him to kiss my ass and finish it himself. Once he apologized, I let him actually TEACH me how to paint. Such funny memories.
So, together we hung wallpaper---no, not giant flowers---red print for the kitchen with the perfect green in it to match our beautiful shiny ,new ,so very with it ,Avocado Green appliances. Yuk now. Very with it for the times. We retiled floors, put down carpet and antiqued cupboards, in of course, Avocado Green! And hung clown wallpaper in Traci’s room. Damn, it was cute.
We had a costume party for Halloween that first year in the house. It was a blast. Harm and I dressed as Cleopatra and Caesar. My father shocked us by showing up as a very ugly woman. He was hilarious, pink lace dress and stubble. You had to love him. Aunt Eleanore was a clown, Cousins Bob & JoAnne were Dracula & Raggedy Anne. We even had a very pregnant bride --great costume from old curtains--very risqué for 1970. Linda was a Martian and Richard was a Robot. Tin foil box w/ flashing light and all. Damn Linda. We had hardwood floors in the living room and hall. She made her costume of this very glittery cheap fabric. Everywhere she went glitter spilled around her. I lived in that house for another two years and every time I swept the floors, every time, I swear, I swept up more of her damn green glitter. Another smile now.
By this time, Harm was doing well at work and learning his tool making skills. I was working for Michigan Bell. My sister got me in. That’s when the phone company had the monopoly. I was a service rep and loved my job. Mother watched Traci for us. Later on, when Linda had Matthew, she watched both kids and loved every minute of it. Funny, how that whole five week early due date faded off into the blue, never to be mentioned again. I guess time really does heal.
Linda and I would each take a bus from home and meet in downtown Detroit every morning and ride the rest of the way to work together. Same after work. That’s back when Detroit was actually a city. After the riots of ‘67, but before the city died completely. Once or twice I’ve wondered what would have happened had I gone back after my maternity leave. I could have retired from there, with a great pension by now. But, how different my life would have turned out. And I still kinda like it the way it is.
Linda was always petite. (bitch) We used to shop after work sometimes. She loved the end of season shoe sales. Back when there were numerous independently owned shoe stores. And great deals. Pre Payless BOGO, etc.
She’d pick up the sample shoes - size 4 ½ or 5 - for maybe $1.00 or $2.00 a pair for really good, top of the line shoes. Damn her, I wore a 6 ½ and wasn’t nearly as fortunate in finding the deals as she was. I always seemed to be toting her obscenely good deals to the bus stop, handing them off and taking my measly purchases home. Sometimes average sucks.
The sweetest little thing I’d ever seen.
I awoke that morning with some back pain. Not bad, so I had Harm drop me off at my Mother’s house, about 7:00 a.m., before he went to work. I insisted he go to work. I never did like a lot of drama. Went to the Dr. at 10:00 a.m. He examined me and told me to go to the hospital and he’d meet me there. OK. I called Harm home, we stopped by our house to let me grab a few things---no, I didn’t have my bag packed. I guess I’ve always been a last minute kinda gal.
We got to the hospital about noon. Traci blessed us with her appearance (she looked like an Eskimo baby, I swear) at 1:01 p.m. Not a bad time frame for a first baby. Quick and easy. And so worth every bead of sweat.
She was everyone’s darling. The first granddaughter on both sides. The first grand either set of parents had been around. My sister had boys, but they were an Army family and we saw very little of them. So, she was rather like the first for BOTH sets of grandparents. Spoiled? You betcha! By everyone.
The day was wonderful until Guess Who stepped into my room with his congratulations? Yep. FIL. Without a lot of details, let’s just say I banished him from my room and my life. Again.
It came to pass that the only visiting Harm’s parents were allowed to do with Traci was at their house when Harm took her over. I wouldn’t go. For several months. Finally, I decided to put my feelings for FIL aside. My anger was hurting both my husband and his mother. It just didn’t feel fair anymore. So, I swallowed my pride……….with much difficulty, mind you.
And I started visiting again too. I wasn’t comfortable for a very long time. But, I did it and in retrospect, it was the right thing to do. And surprisingly, a lot of years down the road, I’ve almost forgiven him. Not quite, but I learned to live with it. I loved Ruby, they were my girls grandparents. So, I made it work till the day he died.
And yes, I even made that SOB’s funeral arrangements. And paid for his grave and burial. Thank you very much.
And life for the happy little family went on. We bought a cute little house with a nice big lot in Lincoln Park. We had an apple, a pear and a cherry tree in the backyard. And a nice size front porch. It needed a little work, but we did it. Luckily, Harm was handy with tools and very good with math. He’d taught me to paint in our rented homes, so I could handle that.
I remember the first time we tackled painting a bedroom together. Mind you, prior to that day the only thing I’d ever painted was a closet. One closet. Well, when he told me I painted like I was whitewashing a barn, it really hurt my feelings. So, through 19 year old tears, I told him to kiss my ass and finish it himself. Once he apologized, I let him actually TEACH me how to paint. Such funny memories.
So, together we hung wallpaper---no, not giant flowers---red print for the kitchen with the perfect green in it to match our beautiful shiny ,new ,so very with it ,Avocado Green appliances. Yuk now. Very with it for the times. We retiled floors, put down carpet and antiqued cupboards, in of course, Avocado Green! And hung clown wallpaper in Traci’s room. Damn, it was cute.
We had a costume party for Halloween that first year in the house. It was a blast. Harm and I dressed as Cleopatra and Caesar. My father shocked us by showing up as a very ugly woman. He was hilarious, pink lace dress and stubble. You had to love him. Aunt Eleanore was a clown, Cousins Bob & JoAnne were Dracula & Raggedy Anne. We even had a very pregnant bride --great costume from old curtains--very risqué for 1970. Linda was a Martian and Richard was a Robot. Tin foil box w/ flashing light and all. Damn Linda. We had hardwood floors in the living room and hall. She made her costume of this very glittery cheap fabric. Everywhere she went glitter spilled around her. I lived in that house for another two years and every time I swept the floors, every time, I swear, I swept up more of her damn green glitter. Another smile now.
By this time, Harm was doing well at work and learning his tool making skills. I was working for Michigan Bell. My sister got me in. That’s when the phone company had the monopoly. I was a service rep and loved my job. Mother watched Traci for us. Later on, when Linda had Matthew, she watched both kids and loved every minute of it. Funny, how that whole five week early due date faded off into the blue, never to be mentioned again. I guess time really does heal.
Linda and I would each take a bus from home and meet in downtown Detroit every morning and ride the rest of the way to work together. Same after work. That’s back when Detroit was actually a city. After the riots of ‘67, but before the city died completely. Once or twice I’ve wondered what would have happened had I gone back after my maternity leave. I could have retired from there, with a great pension by now. But, how different my life would have turned out. And I still kinda like it the way it is.
Linda was always petite. (bitch) We used to shop after work sometimes. She loved the end of season shoe sales. Back when there were numerous independently owned shoe stores. And great deals. Pre Payless BOGO, etc.
She’d pick up the sample shoes - size 4 ½ or 5 - for maybe $1.00 or $2.00 a pair for really good, top of the line shoes. Damn her, I wore a 6 ½ and wasn’t nearly as fortunate in finding the deals as she was. I always seemed to be toting her obscenely good deals to the bus stop, handing them off and taking my measly purchases home. Sometimes average sucks.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
As It Is Today...forget the past for now
Things are getting tough. I filed for unemployment of January 5th. I haven’t yet received any payment. I’ve spoken to so many people at unemployment and everybody’s going to fix it and get my money out. Right. So far, nothing.
The frustration level is rising as each day goes by. R calls Marvin the same day I do. His check hit’s the bank 2 days later. Mine? In The State of Michigan Limbo Land somewhere.
I’m thinking that my patience is about to run out. Just as our bank accounts have been doing. Running out. So far, I’ve been very nice to everyone I’ve spoken with. I figure they’re just doing their job. But, I’m about to find somebody and tap dance on their desk.
And Lord knows, here in Michigan they are working very very hard. And probably doing their best with the gigantic pile of claims they have to deal with daily. But, I want to be put on the top of the pile! After six weeks, is that so much to ask?
We went and applied for some help with food last week. Never had to do that before, but right now, we can legitimately use the help we’re earned and not used over the years. The case worker was supposed to call within a week. It’s been 7 business days, not counting the holiday. I’ll wait until Monday to call. Maybe they’ll be able to tell us something. Right. I hardly believe that statement, but I gotta hope.
New note: I called and per the message: just sit tight. We have 30 days, we’re working on it. Pitiful.
Thank goodness for eBay. Seriously. That’s paid a few bills and helped out these past weeks. But, I’m running out of STUFF. I’m down to maybe 3 or 4 boxes to sort through. That’s kinda scary. There’s a Big Annual Flea Market in Ohio net week. I’m looking forward to that. We’ve had luck there the past couple of years. We’re getting there early. Cross Fingers Please. It’s my hope till yard sale season kicks in again.
And just for one more little kick in the ass, Auctiva has been infected with some sort of virus. I can’t post my eBay thru them for now. Lord, I don’t know whether to just bury my head or cry. I’m trying. I swear, I am.
The frustration level is rising as each day goes by. R calls Marvin the same day I do. His check hit’s the bank 2 days later. Mine? In The State of Michigan Limbo Land somewhere.
I’m thinking that my patience is about to run out. Just as our bank accounts have been doing. Running out. So far, I’ve been very nice to everyone I’ve spoken with. I figure they’re just doing their job. But, I’m about to find somebody and tap dance on their desk.
And Lord knows, here in Michigan they are working very very hard. And probably doing their best with the gigantic pile of claims they have to deal with daily. But, I want to be put on the top of the pile! After six weeks, is that so much to ask?
We went and applied for some help with food last week. Never had to do that before, but right now, we can legitimately use the help we’re earned and not used over the years. The case worker was supposed to call within a week. It’s been 7 business days, not counting the holiday. I’ll wait until Monday to call. Maybe they’ll be able to tell us something. Right. I hardly believe that statement, but I gotta hope.
New note: I called and per the message: just sit tight. We have 30 days, we’re working on it. Pitiful.
Thank goodness for eBay. Seriously. That’s paid a few bills and helped out these past weeks. But, I’m running out of STUFF. I’m down to maybe 3 or 4 boxes to sort through. That’s kinda scary. There’s a Big Annual Flea Market in Ohio net week. I’m looking forward to that. We’ve had luck there the past couple of years. We’re getting there early. Cross Fingers Please. It’s my hope till yard sale season kicks in again.
And just for one more little kick in the ass, Auctiva has been infected with some sort of virus. I can’t post my eBay thru them for now. Lord, I don’t know whether to just bury my head or cry. I’m trying. I swear, I am.
Family Feud
If you’re reading along, I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. I know this must be hard, even for a stranger to read. I’m not looking for sympathy. Shit happens. There’s no need to express condolences, I’m years away from that. I just want to get the story down. At this time of year when I remember everything almost in slow motion, it just feels like the right time to write.
This is kind of jumpy, but I’m just writing as I’m reminiscing. Backup again. To the early years and having a baby. We lived in the flat above his parents for just a couple of months. Then we moved into a tiny house in Detroit. $60.00 a month rent. Perfect for then. After Traci was born we moved to a roomier apartment in Detroit. We stayed there until we bought our house in Lincoln Park, in 1970.
My mother in law Ruby and I got along just fine. She worked full time in a factory. Oh, I’m sure there were times when she was a little jealous. He was her boy. Her only child. She had another little girl who was just two years younger than Harm. She died at eighteen months old. Her name was Betty Lou Ratliff.
So Harm Jr. was her life. My father in law, Harm Sr. was another story completely. Harm loved him. He remembered when he was a good father. He was a disabled coal miner, collecting for black lung disease, VA benefits, whatever. It kept him from having to go to work. They moved up here from West Virginia in the late 1950s. He worked for Ford Motor Co. for a time, but ended up disabled somehow. I believe he collected from them too. Can you see the stage I’m setting here?
He also drank. A lot. And he was a mean drunk. And he did prescription pills. Many doctors, many many pills. He took them by the handful and washed them down with a beer. When he was sober he was ok. I didn’t love him, but he was ok. Sober wasn’t often. When we went to visit, it was all about Ruby. He wasn’t usually much fun to be around.
I’ll never forget one night we stayed overnight. Lying in bed with the door open. Hearing Harm pleading with his father out in the kitchen. Harm was in tears. He told him that he needed to quit the booze and pills. He told him, “Dad, you’re killing both Mom and me.” You know what the old man did? He laughed at him. Called him a crybaby and told him to go to bed and leave him alone. It broke my heart a little bit for Harm. He was so hurt. Needless to say, I had no use for his father after that.
Then came one Sunday morning in August, 1968. I was 7 months pregnant. We had spent the night at my MIL’s because FIL was on a drunken rant and she was scared to be alone if he came home. The night before he had wrecked his truck. He came looking for her car, but she’d hidden it in my parent’s garage miles away. She had to go back and forth to work and she didn’t want him screwing up her car too. Made sense to me.
So anyway, Sunday morning is here and I wake up to yelling in the other room. He’s back. Drunk as usual. Harm is sleeping through all this. He’s the hardest sleeper I’ve ever met. That’s why he was late on our first date, remember? So, I get up and get dressed. Walk to the front room, look outside and lo and behold. He’s under the hood of our car, trying to hot wire it!
I couldn’t believe it. Truth is, we didn’t have established credit so his mother co-signed the loan for us. Technically, it was in both Harm’s and his mom’s names. We were making the payments. He couldn’t find Ruby’s car so he intended to take ours. I was hot. I came down from the porch yelling for him to close the hood and move on. It wasn’t his car. It was ours. He wouldn’t listen, so of course I went right up to him and said something like, ”Look you drunken Son of a Bitch, leave our car alone. You can’t take it.”
Next thing I know, I’m flying backwards, into a tree. No shit. He hit me in the face so hard that it knocked my feet out from under me and I sat down. I couldn’t believe it. I was in absolute shock. I had never been hit before. Spankings, yes. A good smack across the mouth for mouthing off to my mother, yes. But not HIT. I was furious. And seven months pregnant. And afraid. So, I go up the steps to get Harm to get me out of here and Ruby blocked my way. I couldn’t believe it. First, He hit me, Second, She wouldn’t let me into her house. It took a very long time for me to forgive her for that one moment in time. But eventually, I understood and I forgave.
Harm’s aunt & uncle lived just a couple of doors up the street. Of course, with all the screaming and commotion, people were out all over the block. Anyway, I went to Aunt Pat’s house and used her phone to call for my father to come pick me up.
Well, when I tearfully told mama what had happened, she told my father, he went and got his rifle to kill Harm Sr with. She had to wrestle it away from him before he left the house. He’d never hit me, can you even imagine how furious he must have been? Being a parent, I think I get it now. Oh---meanwhile, remember that my Harm has slept through all of this. I can’t even imagine his reaction when his mom awoke him with all the current goings-on. I have to find a little humor here and there.
So, Daddy and I went to the Police Station. They took pictures of my bruised face--not bad really considering--and informed me that there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it. I was on His property, therefore I guess it’s ok to get hit. End of story. We couldn’t believe it.
Next stop, the Doctor’s Office. Mother had called Dr J and he came to his office even though it was a Sunday. Our family doctor for years who still delivered babies. He was a fun doctor. Drew pictures on my belly. Ahead of his time. He examined me. All appeared to be in good order. No problem with the baby, I was fine. But, he was pissed! Wanted me to pursue a lawsuit against Harm Sr. I just wanted it to be done. And I don’t regret that decision whatsoever.
All I could think about was Poor Harm. God, this was horrible for him. To pit his wife against his father. I knew I hated his father with all my heart and soul. I was DONE with him. Yet, I understood that this bastard was his father. Totally different relationship. And I never associated him with his father’s behavior. I didn’t want to ruin any relationship they could scrape out of all this. And my poor MIL was like me. She didn’t want any of this either. Yet, she chose to keep that asshole as her husband, so there was obviously loyalty there. And another loyalty to her son and his feelings. Not an easy spot for any of us to be in. Except for the drunk. He didn’t care about anything.
I’d vowed to never go to his parent’s house again. His mother was welcome at our house. His father welcome as long as I knew in advance so I didn’t have to be there. That’s the way it was for some months.
This is kind of jumpy, but I’m just writing as I’m reminiscing. Backup again. To the early years and having a baby. We lived in the flat above his parents for just a couple of months. Then we moved into a tiny house in Detroit. $60.00 a month rent. Perfect for then. After Traci was born we moved to a roomier apartment in Detroit. We stayed there until we bought our house in Lincoln Park, in 1970.
My mother in law Ruby and I got along just fine. She worked full time in a factory. Oh, I’m sure there were times when she was a little jealous. He was her boy. Her only child. She had another little girl who was just two years younger than Harm. She died at eighteen months old. Her name was Betty Lou Ratliff.
So Harm Jr. was her life. My father in law, Harm Sr. was another story completely. Harm loved him. He remembered when he was a good father. He was a disabled coal miner, collecting for black lung disease, VA benefits, whatever. It kept him from having to go to work. They moved up here from West Virginia in the late 1950s. He worked for Ford Motor Co. for a time, but ended up disabled somehow. I believe he collected from them too. Can you see the stage I’m setting here?
He also drank. A lot. And he was a mean drunk. And he did prescription pills. Many doctors, many many pills. He took them by the handful and washed them down with a beer. When he was sober he was ok. I didn’t love him, but he was ok. Sober wasn’t often. When we went to visit, it was all about Ruby. He wasn’t usually much fun to be around.
I’ll never forget one night we stayed overnight. Lying in bed with the door open. Hearing Harm pleading with his father out in the kitchen. Harm was in tears. He told him that he needed to quit the booze and pills. He told him, “Dad, you’re killing both Mom and me.” You know what the old man did? He laughed at him. Called him a crybaby and told him to go to bed and leave him alone. It broke my heart a little bit for Harm. He was so hurt. Needless to say, I had no use for his father after that.
Then came one Sunday morning in August, 1968. I was 7 months pregnant. We had spent the night at my MIL’s because FIL was on a drunken rant and she was scared to be alone if he came home. The night before he had wrecked his truck. He came looking for her car, but she’d hidden it in my parent’s garage miles away. She had to go back and forth to work and she didn’t want him screwing up her car too. Made sense to me.
So anyway, Sunday morning is here and I wake up to yelling in the other room. He’s back. Drunk as usual. Harm is sleeping through all this. He’s the hardest sleeper I’ve ever met. That’s why he was late on our first date, remember? So, I get up and get dressed. Walk to the front room, look outside and lo and behold. He’s under the hood of our car, trying to hot wire it!
I couldn’t believe it. Truth is, we didn’t have established credit so his mother co-signed the loan for us. Technically, it was in both Harm’s and his mom’s names. We were making the payments. He couldn’t find Ruby’s car so he intended to take ours. I was hot. I came down from the porch yelling for him to close the hood and move on. It wasn’t his car. It was ours. He wouldn’t listen, so of course I went right up to him and said something like, ”Look you drunken Son of a Bitch, leave our car alone. You can’t take it.”
Next thing I know, I’m flying backwards, into a tree. No shit. He hit me in the face so hard that it knocked my feet out from under me and I sat down. I couldn’t believe it. I was in absolute shock. I had never been hit before. Spankings, yes. A good smack across the mouth for mouthing off to my mother, yes. But not HIT. I was furious. And seven months pregnant. And afraid. So, I go up the steps to get Harm to get me out of here and Ruby blocked my way. I couldn’t believe it. First, He hit me, Second, She wouldn’t let me into her house. It took a very long time for me to forgive her for that one moment in time. But eventually, I understood and I forgave.
Harm’s aunt & uncle lived just a couple of doors up the street. Of course, with all the screaming and commotion, people were out all over the block. Anyway, I went to Aunt Pat’s house and used her phone to call for my father to come pick me up.
Well, when I tearfully told mama what had happened, she told my father, he went and got his rifle to kill Harm Sr with. She had to wrestle it away from him before he left the house. He’d never hit me, can you even imagine how furious he must have been? Being a parent, I think I get it now. Oh---meanwhile, remember that my Harm has slept through all of this. I can’t even imagine his reaction when his mom awoke him with all the current goings-on. I have to find a little humor here and there.
So, Daddy and I went to the Police Station. They took pictures of my bruised face--not bad really considering--and informed me that there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it. I was on His property, therefore I guess it’s ok to get hit. End of story. We couldn’t believe it.
Next stop, the Doctor’s Office. Mother had called Dr J and he came to his office even though it was a Sunday. Our family doctor for years who still delivered babies. He was a fun doctor. Drew pictures on my belly. Ahead of his time. He examined me. All appeared to be in good order. No problem with the baby, I was fine. But, he was pissed! Wanted me to pursue a lawsuit against Harm Sr. I just wanted it to be done. And I don’t regret that decision whatsoever.
All I could think about was Poor Harm. God, this was horrible for him. To pit his wife against his father. I knew I hated his father with all my heart and soul. I was DONE with him. Yet, I understood that this bastard was his father. Totally different relationship. And I never associated him with his father’s behavior. I didn’t want to ruin any relationship they could scrape out of all this. And my poor MIL was like me. She didn’t want any of this either. Yet, she chose to keep that asshole as her husband, so there was obviously loyalty there. And another loyalty to her son and his feelings. Not an easy spot for any of us to be in. Except for the drunk. He didn’t care about anything.
I’d vowed to never go to his parent’s house again. His mother was welcome at our house. His father welcome as long as I knew in advance so I didn’t have to be there. That’s the way it was for some months.
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