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.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Working For A Living
When I got pregnant, Harm went to work for Cadillac for the insurance. It wasn’t what he wanted to do. He also sold Cutco Cutlery as a sideline for a few extra bucks. Sold two sets, one to his mother and the other to Donna. I still use my set we had to buy as a sample. Funny, I was going to list it on eBay a couple of weeks ago. Traci and Janka both protested. Each offered to pay me NOT to sell it. It was pretty funny. So, I’m holding on to it so they can inherit it! Janka has dibs on the potato masher. They’ll have to fight over the rest of it. Hey, I guess Cutco is pretty cool to their
generation. And mine comes with memories. (big smile)
Harm wanted to be a Tool & Die Maker. He’d dropped out of school at sixteen. But he was determined. I remember one day he told me, “I’m going to find a job.” He picked up the big fat Detroit Yellow Pages book, looked up tool & die shops, starting at “A”, he called every shop in the book, looking for a chance. He got as far as “D”, where he found DieMaster Tooling and a great guy who was willing to give him a chance. I was so proud of him. Only nineteen years old, a new father and husband. Smart enough to go out and get what he wanted. Taking a chance at finding a career he was interested in. Not everybody could be bothered to do that.
He ended up working there until, literally, the day he died. They were so good to him. Even when work was slow, they kept him on, painting machines and floors and anything else they could justify having him do. He made a good choice moving on to the “Ds” that day.
Oh, and he decided to get his GED. He was going to night school a couple of nights a week and was nearly finished. nearly.
p.s. I just remembered something pretty neat. Harm’s friend, and mine, Robert aka Bird, was going to school with him. He returned his books for me and with the deposit, bought me a copy of James Taylor’s “You’ve Got A Friend.” He knew that was Harm’s and my song. I still smile and say a silent “bless you” every time I hear James singing that one.
generation. And mine comes with memories. (big smile)
Harm wanted to be a Tool & Die Maker. He’d dropped out of school at sixteen. But he was determined. I remember one day he told me, “I’m going to find a job.” He picked up the big fat Detroit Yellow Pages book, looked up tool & die shops, starting at “A”, he called every shop in the book, looking for a chance. He got as far as “D”, where he found DieMaster Tooling and a great guy who was willing to give him a chance. I was so proud of him. Only nineteen years old, a new father and husband. Smart enough to go out and get what he wanted. Taking a chance at finding a career he was interested in. Not everybody could be bothered to do that.
He ended up working there until, literally, the day he died. They were so good to him. Even when work was slow, they kept him on, painting machines and floors and anything else they could justify having him do. He made a good choice moving on to the “Ds” that day.
Oh, and he decided to get his GED. He was going to night school a couple of nights a week and was nearly finished. nearly.
p.s. I just remembered something pretty neat. Harm’s friend, and mine, Robert aka Bird, was going to school with him. He returned his books for me and with the deposit, bought me a copy of James Taylor’s “You’ve Got A Friend.” He knew that was Harm’s and my song. I still smile and say a silent “bless you” every time I hear James singing that one.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Part Three - Knocked Up
We moved into a flat above Harm’s parents. It had the wildest wallpaper in the living room. It was a gray background with giant, yes giant, white hibiscus flowers with pinkish purple centers. Lord, how we hated that ugly 1930s era paper. Oh, how I would love to run into about a dozen double rolls of it today. It would be perfect for this house. How are tastes change!
He was working in a machine shop and I was employed in a beauty shop. I lost that job on April 6th. I lived in Detroit, worked in Dearborn. I didn’t drive back then, so I relied on the bus to get back and forth to work. That was the day Martin Luther King was killed. I was afraid to get on a bus. People were UPSET and violence was breaking out all over Detroit. I called in to work. The bitch fired me!
I found out a week later that I was pregnant. We were thrilled. That was back in the days when they killed the rabbit. Anyway, both Harm and I were tickled to death. We told his parents, they couldn’t have been a bit happier. Then I went over to tell my mother.
That was one of the worst days in my life. I knew it wasn’t going to go well with mama.
BACKSTORY: My mother had an illegitimate child in 1936. And that was a bad, bad thing. Just after Glenda was born, some people came to the house to “get her.” My mother’s grandmother had made plans for these people to adopt Glenda. My mother was shocked and said “no deal.” Nice grandmother, huh?
Anyway, she kept Glenda and raised her alone until she and my father met and married in 1942 and daddy adopted her. And she never, till the day she died, ever forgave herself. It seems strange with today’s values and morals, but that was then and that’s the way it was then.
And she raised all three of us girls, making sure we knew her story (or was it her shame?) Always it was reinforced. Don’t be a slut. Sex is bad. Things I was accused of way before I was doing them. . Oh, I could go on and on. But, I won’t.
While I was happy to tell her I was pregnant, I wasn’t happy about telling her HOW pregnant I was. I knew she’d be counting weeks and months. That’s what they did back then. So, I had Harm drop me off at Mama’s. I figured that when she went off, it would be better for him if he wasn’t there. Smart move on my part. Cause she DID go off.
Suddenly, even though already married, I was a slut. I heard it all that day, all her disappointment in me. It still makes me sad. I’ve found that while mothering, I’ve done a lot of what I’ve done---consciously---the opposite of how my mother would handle things. It seems to have worked for me. My girls respect me, but they’re not afraid of me. Or of me not loving them.
Anyhow, it ended with me in tears, calling Harm to come get me asap. Before I went to sit and wait on the porch, I told her to call me when she wanted to talk to me.
We went home to the happy potential grandparents. A little while later my sister, Linda, called. We were close. Really close, 3 years between us and we really were best friends. I picked up the phone and heard “I’m going to be an aunt!” There was such joy in her voice. She instantly made up for my mother.
Seems she had stopped by mama’s house, mother told her about my pregnancy and me leaving in a huff. Linda told her, “Well, I’m thrilled. Call me when you call Lolli.” And she walked out too. That’s why I loved her, she was always right there for me. And yes, after a few days she did call.
He was working in a machine shop and I was employed in a beauty shop. I lost that job on April 6th. I lived in Detroit, worked in Dearborn. I didn’t drive back then, so I relied on the bus to get back and forth to work. That was the day Martin Luther King was killed. I was afraid to get on a bus. People were UPSET and violence was breaking out all over Detroit. I called in to work. The bitch fired me!
I found out a week later that I was pregnant. We were thrilled. That was back in the days when they killed the rabbit. Anyway, both Harm and I were tickled to death. We told his parents, they couldn’t have been a bit happier. Then I went over to tell my mother.
That was one of the worst days in my life. I knew it wasn’t going to go well with mama.
BACKSTORY: My mother had an illegitimate child in 1936. And that was a bad, bad thing. Just after Glenda was born, some people came to the house to “get her.” My mother’s grandmother had made plans for these people to adopt Glenda. My mother was shocked and said “no deal.” Nice grandmother, huh?
Anyway, she kept Glenda and raised her alone until she and my father met and married in 1942 and daddy adopted her. And she never, till the day she died, ever forgave herself. It seems strange with today’s values and morals, but that was then and that’s the way it was then.
And she raised all three of us girls, making sure we knew her story (or was it her shame?) Always it was reinforced. Don’t be a slut. Sex is bad. Things I was accused of way before I was doing them. . Oh, I could go on and on. But, I won’t.
While I was happy to tell her I was pregnant, I wasn’t happy about telling her HOW pregnant I was. I knew she’d be counting weeks and months. That’s what they did back then. So, I had Harm drop me off at Mama’s. I figured that when she went off, it would be better for him if he wasn’t there. Smart move on my part. Cause she DID go off.
Suddenly, even though already married, I was a slut. I heard it all that day, all her disappointment in me. It still makes me sad. I’ve found that while mothering, I’ve done a lot of what I’ve done---consciously---the opposite of how my mother would handle things. It seems to have worked for me. My girls respect me, but they’re not afraid of me. Or of me not loving them.
Anyhow, it ended with me in tears, calling Harm to come get me asap. Before I went to sit and wait on the porch, I told her to call me when she wanted to talk to me.
We went home to the happy potential grandparents. A little while later my sister, Linda, called. We were close. Really close, 3 years between us and we really were best friends. I picked up the phone and heard “I’m going to be an aunt!” There was such joy in her voice. She instantly made up for my mother.
Seems she had stopped by mama’s house, mother told her about my pregnancy and me leaving in a huff. Linda told her, “Well, I’m thrilled. Call me when you call Lolli.” And she walked out too. That’s why I loved her, she was always right there for me. And yes, after a few days she did call.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
A Quick Courtship
........................and in no time at all we fell in love. Big Love. THE BIG LOVE. I believe that within 3 or 4 dates, both of us knew this was “IT”. We were totally and completely enamored of each other. Fast and furious, yes. But, when it’s “IT” you just know. And time doesn’t mean a thing. All you want to be is together. I cherish the cheesy poetry we wrote for one another back then. By September we were making wedding plans. By October, we were making love. By February, we were married.
In October, we set our Wedding day for the 24th of February, 1968. In January of 1968, we were at Harm’s parent’s house on a Sat. night, playing cards. Time to take me home, we looked outside……we were snowed in. In those days, probably now too, the City of Detroit doesn’t plow side streets. Now, I’m from the suburbs where they always plow! So, I called home and explained to my mother that we were snowed in. She was pissed and really didn‘t believe me, I know. She talked to Harm’s mother to be sure I wasn’t lying and finally, agreed that it was ok if I spent the night there. Big Mistake Mama! Turned out that that was the night I got pregnant. On my future in-laws front porch mind you, after they went to sleep. (No, not outside in January, it was an enclosed front porch.)
Fast forward to our Wedding Day. We really weren‘t going for the big wedding. We just wanted to get married. Happy to go to a Justice of the Peace. But, no. Nothing so easy as that. My mother’s point of view was that she’d had three daughters. None had been married in a church. (Funny in retrospect as she didn’t even GO to church.) Glenda ran away at 17 with a Marine and ended up, 2 weeks later marrying his cousin, the Soldier. Don‘t ask. Linda married Richard, quickie like, while he was home on leave and set to go to Vietnam. So, ok, we’d have a real wedding. She wanted the white dress. I didn’t have nerve enough to tell her that that made me very uncomfortable. I didn’t feel quite worthy of that. Understand, those were very different times. Sex wasn’t running rampant like nowadays. Even though I was in love, I was still feeling guilty about the whole having sex before marriage thing.
We paid for the wedding ourselves, I still have the receipt for the 3 tier cake from Sanders $39.99. Flowers $60.00. Photos $150.00. Gorgeous gown, all lace, sweetheart neckline, pointy long sleeves with tons of buttons, more buttons up the back, hoop skirt with long train and button up bustle. My absolute dream gown. $100.00 + $5.00 hoop rental. Tux rental $20.00. Very simple. Very Sincere. Reception in the church basement. Great Mama’s homemade food. It was cheap, our affordable. It was a pretty, sunny February Saturday. Kind of like the weather we’ve had this week.
What can I say? Afterwards was the real party at my parent’s house. There the booze flowed freely. A good time was had by all. I have photos of the guys wearing my cousin Lois’ hairpiece, to prove it. We drove up to Bay City, MI, for our Honeymoon night. One night, mind you.
Actually, that was the first time we’d ever been--literally--in bed together.
And the furthest north Harm had ever been…………..or ever got to go for that matter.
In October, we set our Wedding day for the 24th of February, 1968. In January of 1968, we were at Harm’s parent’s house on a Sat. night, playing cards. Time to take me home, we looked outside……we were snowed in. In those days, probably now too, the City of Detroit doesn’t plow side streets. Now, I’m from the suburbs where they always plow! So, I called home and explained to my mother that we were snowed in. She was pissed and really didn‘t believe me, I know. She talked to Harm’s mother to be sure I wasn’t lying and finally, agreed that it was ok if I spent the night there. Big Mistake Mama! Turned out that that was the night I got pregnant. On my future in-laws front porch mind you, after they went to sleep. (No, not outside in January, it was an enclosed front porch.)
Fast forward to our Wedding Day. We really weren‘t going for the big wedding. We just wanted to get married. Happy to go to a Justice of the Peace. But, no. Nothing so easy as that. My mother’s point of view was that she’d had three daughters. None had been married in a church. (Funny in retrospect as she didn’t even GO to church.) Glenda ran away at 17 with a Marine and ended up, 2 weeks later marrying his cousin, the Soldier. Don‘t ask. Linda married Richard, quickie like, while he was home on leave and set to go to Vietnam. So, ok, we’d have a real wedding. She wanted the white dress. I didn’t have nerve enough to tell her that that made me very uncomfortable. I didn’t feel quite worthy of that. Understand, those were very different times. Sex wasn’t running rampant like nowadays. Even though I was in love, I was still feeling guilty about the whole having sex before marriage thing.
We paid for the wedding ourselves, I still have the receipt for the 3 tier cake from Sanders $39.99. Flowers $60.00. Photos $150.00. Gorgeous gown, all lace, sweetheart neckline, pointy long sleeves with tons of buttons, more buttons up the back, hoop skirt with long train and button up bustle. My absolute dream gown. $100.00 + $5.00 hoop rental. Tux rental $20.00. Very simple. Very Sincere. Reception in the church basement. Great Mama’s homemade food. It was cheap, our affordable. It was a pretty, sunny February Saturday. Kind of like the weather we’ve had this week.
What can I say? Afterwards was the real party at my parent’s house. There the booze flowed freely. A good time was had by all. I have photos of the guys wearing my cousin Lois’ hairpiece, to prove it. We drove up to Bay City, MI, for our Honeymoon night. One night, mind you.
Actually, that was the first time we’d ever been--literally--in bed together.
And the furthest north Harm had ever been…………..or ever got to go for that matter.
Black February
I’m going to try something new this time around. 37 years and I’ve never written down my feelings. Oh, I FEEL them. Over and over every year. But, I’ve never tried to put those feelings into words outside of my own head. Which, in retrospect, is rather strange. Or telling.
I’m a writer, I’ve kept journals, off and on, for my entire life. Never thought of writing it all down before. This feels like something that must be done. Maybe this will be therapeutic. Or enlightening. Or just plain cleansing. Maybe it won’t do any good at all. Maybe I won’t find the end. But, as they say, nothing ventured nothing gained. And Harm deserves to be remembered. So, here's the story..............
Once upon a time, toward the end of July, 1967, to be more exact, there was this young girl. She was me at eighteen years old. Just out of High School and just about to finish up Beauty School. Ready to take on the world.
Back in those days, kids were allowed places to “hang out.” Our favorite was Carter’s Hamburgers. Exactly a two minute run from my back door. I know this as most nights that’s how I got home. At a run. Curfew was 10:00 p.m. and my mama didn’t play! I had it down to a science as for every minute I was late, I lost that many minutes the next night. So, back to Carter’s.
I was walking across the parking lot, ready to go nurse a coke for an hour or until somebody came by, whichever came first. My best girlfriend and another gal were sitting in a car I didn’t know, with some guys from Detroit. I’d never met them. Well, when he saw me, one of these guys says to Donna, “See that girl over there? I’m going to marry her.” He had no idea that she knew me. Donna turned to him and said, “oh yeah? Would you like to meet her first? She’s my best friend!”
She called me over to the car and introduced me to her new big bad boy friends from Detroit. Cool was different back then, but trust me, these guys were cool. His name was Harm. (Harm?) Never heard that one before. But, he was cute. Beautiful wavy brown hair and twinkling brown eyes with long eyelashes. And a terrific sense of humor. Somebody told me what he'd said about marrying me and we all had a good laugh.
We were talking and he said he had a motorcycle. Yippee, I loved motorcycles. He went home to get it and came right back to take me for a ride. Pre helmet days. I hopped on this great big, gorgeous 1967 Triumph, Purple before purple ruled………we went for a ride……..it was wonderful. I was happy, hanging’ on to him with the wind blowing through my hair. I wish I could say that I still feel the wind in my hair, but that would be wishful thinking or a big fat lie. I can’t. But, I still remember that it was magic.
He asked me for a date to the movies the next night. I easily said “yes”, before running home to make my curfew! And once again, I made it in on time.
Next day, Saturday, I had Beauty School and anxiously awaited 3:30 p.m. to get the hell out of there. Onward to home, where before even THINKING of going on a date that night, I had to scrub the kitchen and dining room floors, with a scrub brush and Fels Naptha soap. Let ‘em dry, a light coat of wax. And I was on my way to a shower and dolling up for a first date. He was due to pick me up at 7:00 p.m.
That’s when I first learned of his penchant for being late. And yes, he was always late.
7:00 came and went, then 7:30.……..maybe car trouble? Had I even given him my phone number? I didn’t remember. OK, now it’s nearly 8:00 and I’m listening to my mother…….”Well, he mustn’t be much of a guy to stand you up…….Why should you even want to date this guy?…..You deserve better than this………..and on and on.” This was new. I’d never been stood up before. And I was getting pretty pissed off. So, at 8:oo I announced, “I’m going to Carter’s. If he shows up, tell him I said, “Don’t bother with me. I don’t want to see you.”
I swear, I had one foot out the back door when my mother hollered, “He’s here. He’s cute.” What can I say? I met him and his hundred apologies at the door. And I bought it. He took a nap and overslept. His mother (who grew to be one of my favorite people in the whole world, another story) woke him up singing “Lolli Pop, Lolli Pop, Oh Lolli Lolli Lolli Pop.” He was already late by then. But, at least he showed up with a story I was willing to believe.
We went to the Dearborn Drive In. I honestly can’t remember if we saw, The Dirty Dozen or Goldfinger. Whatever, we saw one of them one week and the other the next. In the whole scheme of things, I’ve found that the order just doesn’t really matter.
The next day, Sunday, he took me to meet his parents. He’d told me that his mother’s birthday was the day before, July 27th. I remember being in awe that his mother was so young. She’d just turned forty years old. Heck, my mother was 36 when I was born, Daddy was 45. So, his parents seemed sooo young to me. It was just a quick ‘hello”, but perhaps it was telling, that after only one date, he took me home to Mama.
OH WAIT. I forgot about what happened AFTER Harm dropped me off. I had a midnight curfew. Afterwards, he went to his old stomping grounds, Pacer’s, his hangout like my own personal Carter’s. Just to hook up with friends and probably brag about his date with the cute blonde. Went for a ride with a friend who’d been drinking. Next thing he knew, BANG, the guy ran off the road and into someone’s front porch. He hit and split. Leaving Harm alone with the car & empty beer cans. A couple of minutes later the cops arrived. Dennis, that was that bastard’s name! Anyway, Harm landed in jail, not in trouble really, but his mother had to pick him up at the police station about 3:00 in the morning. Not a happy mother to say the least.
to be continued.............
I’m a writer, I’ve kept journals, off and on, for my entire life. Never thought of writing it all down before. This feels like something that must be done. Maybe this will be therapeutic. Or enlightening. Or just plain cleansing. Maybe it won’t do any good at all. Maybe I won’t find the end. But, as they say, nothing ventured nothing gained. And Harm deserves to be remembered. So, here's the story..............
Once upon a time, toward the end of July, 1967, to be more exact, there was this young girl. She was me at eighteen years old. Just out of High School and just about to finish up Beauty School. Ready to take on the world.
Back in those days, kids were allowed places to “hang out.” Our favorite was Carter’s Hamburgers. Exactly a two minute run from my back door. I know this as most nights that’s how I got home. At a run. Curfew was 10:00 p.m. and my mama didn’t play! I had it down to a science as for every minute I was late, I lost that many minutes the next night. So, back to Carter’s.
I was walking across the parking lot, ready to go nurse a coke for an hour or until somebody came by, whichever came first. My best girlfriend and another gal were sitting in a car I didn’t know, with some guys from Detroit. I’d never met them. Well, when he saw me, one of these guys says to Donna, “See that girl over there? I’m going to marry her.” He had no idea that she knew me. Donna turned to him and said, “oh yeah? Would you like to meet her first? She’s my best friend!”
She called me over to the car and introduced me to her new big bad boy friends from Detroit. Cool was different back then, but trust me, these guys were cool. His name was Harm. (Harm?) Never heard that one before. But, he was cute. Beautiful wavy brown hair and twinkling brown eyes with long eyelashes. And a terrific sense of humor. Somebody told me what he'd said about marrying me and we all had a good laugh.
We were talking and he said he had a motorcycle. Yippee, I loved motorcycles. He went home to get it and came right back to take me for a ride. Pre helmet days. I hopped on this great big, gorgeous 1967 Triumph, Purple before purple ruled………we went for a ride……..it was wonderful. I was happy, hanging’ on to him with the wind blowing through my hair. I wish I could say that I still feel the wind in my hair, but that would be wishful thinking or a big fat lie. I can’t. But, I still remember that it was magic.
He asked me for a date to the movies the next night. I easily said “yes”, before running home to make my curfew! And once again, I made it in on time.
Next day, Saturday, I had Beauty School and anxiously awaited 3:30 p.m. to get the hell out of there. Onward to home, where before even THINKING of going on a date that night, I had to scrub the kitchen and dining room floors, with a scrub brush and Fels Naptha soap. Let ‘em dry, a light coat of wax. And I was on my way to a shower and dolling up for a first date. He was due to pick me up at 7:00 p.m.
That’s when I first learned of his penchant for being late. And yes, he was always late.
7:00 came and went, then 7:30.……..maybe car trouble? Had I even given him my phone number? I didn’t remember. OK, now it’s nearly 8:00 and I’m listening to my mother…….”Well, he mustn’t be much of a guy to stand you up…….Why should you even want to date this guy?…..You deserve better than this………..and on and on.” This was new. I’d never been stood up before. And I was getting pretty pissed off. So, at 8:oo I announced, “I’m going to Carter’s. If he shows up, tell him I said, “Don’t bother with me. I don’t want to see you.”
I swear, I had one foot out the back door when my mother hollered, “He’s here. He’s cute.” What can I say? I met him and his hundred apologies at the door. And I bought it. He took a nap and overslept. His mother (who grew to be one of my favorite people in the whole world, another story) woke him up singing “Lolli Pop, Lolli Pop, Oh Lolli Lolli Lolli Pop.” He was already late by then. But, at least he showed up with a story I was willing to believe.
We went to the Dearborn Drive In. I honestly can’t remember if we saw, The Dirty Dozen or Goldfinger. Whatever, we saw one of them one week and the other the next. In the whole scheme of things, I’ve found that the order just doesn’t really matter.
The next day, Sunday, he took me to meet his parents. He’d told me that his mother’s birthday was the day before, July 27th. I remember being in awe that his mother was so young. She’d just turned forty years old. Heck, my mother was 36 when I was born, Daddy was 45. So, his parents seemed sooo young to me. It was just a quick ‘hello”, but perhaps it was telling, that after only one date, he took me home to Mama.
OH WAIT. I forgot about what happened AFTER Harm dropped me off. I had a midnight curfew. Afterwards, he went to his old stomping grounds, Pacer’s, his hangout like my own personal Carter’s. Just to hook up with friends and probably brag about his date with the cute blonde. Went for a ride with a friend who’d been drinking. Next thing he knew, BANG, the guy ran off the road and into someone’s front porch. He hit and split. Leaving Harm alone with the car & empty beer cans. A couple of minutes later the cops arrived. Dennis, that was that bastard’s name! Anyway, Harm landed in jail, not in trouble really, but his mother had to pick him up at the police station about 3:00 in the morning. Not a happy mother to say the least.
to be continued.............
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Gettin' By
Oh boy! Well, I guess this is good. Sort of. At least we finally have some idea just where we stand. Limbo sucks, maybe reality will be better.
Richie was called back to work on Monday, a week early. Worked on Monday, sent home after 3 hours onTuesday, worked yesterday & so far today. He just called me. Was told his last day is tomorrow. He's on indefinate layoff. Maybe they'll call him back in June. Right. No doubt they're going under. Laying off another 31 poor souls tomorrow. Cutting down to 10 people per shift. There's no way they can profitably run with those numbers. Common sense.
Well, he'll be 62 in April & able to collect at least a little social security. Funny, those words don't sound too damn secure today.
So, how best to handle this? Right now, I'm shooting for eBay. I've written about 60 descriptions in the last few days. Now he'll have time to take photos for me so I can get them listed. Positive outlook, right?
Jen's friend (and all of ours) Anima, sorta my 5th daughter type gal, she's been in our family for about 20 years or so. I feed her meat and lots of my pasta sauce............she's Indian & comes from a vegetarian family......a succesful career woman and a sweetheart. She gave me a couple of bags of clothes to sell. Nice stuff, good brands and most with tags. I should generate a little income from that.
Plus, I've been taking stuff down from my kitchen shelves. All of the old aqua & pink kitchen collectibles that I've spent years acquiring. It'll make dusting easier, right? (Like I dust!) I sold my cowboy collection and lived through it a few years ago when R lost his job..........so, here we go again.
Remember how your parents told you "You can't live on love?" Well. I'll let you know how that turns out! Thanks for listening.
xox
Richie was called back to work on Monday, a week early. Worked on Monday, sent home after 3 hours onTuesday, worked yesterday & so far today. He just called me. Was told his last day is tomorrow. He's on indefinate layoff. Maybe they'll call him back in June. Right. No doubt they're going under. Laying off another 31 poor souls tomorrow. Cutting down to 10 people per shift. There's no way they can profitably run with those numbers. Common sense.
Well, he'll be 62 in April & able to collect at least a little social security. Funny, those words don't sound too damn secure today.
So, how best to handle this? Right now, I'm shooting for eBay. I've written about 60 descriptions in the last few days. Now he'll have time to take photos for me so I can get them listed. Positive outlook, right?
Jen's friend (and all of ours) Anima, sorta my 5th daughter type gal, she's been in our family for about 20 years or so. I feed her meat and lots of my pasta sauce............she's Indian & comes from a vegetarian family......a succesful career woman and a sweetheart. She gave me a couple of bags of clothes to sell. Nice stuff, good brands and most with tags. I should generate a little income from that.
Plus, I've been taking stuff down from my kitchen shelves. All of the old aqua & pink kitchen collectibles that I've spent years acquiring. It'll make dusting easier, right? (Like I dust!) I sold my cowboy collection and lived through it a few years ago when R lost his job..........so, here we go again.
Remember how your parents told you "You can't live on love?" Well. I'll let you know how that turns out! Thanks for listening.
xox
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
CONTINUED
(I lost my way once again in "save & edit" land.)
So, as I was saying..............I didn't stand up in 1961, but my man Martin, did! And I've always admired him for it. I went upstairs to my craft room and looked again at my little M.L. King doll standing at his little podium. Put in the tape of his "I Have A Dream " speech. Picked up the paper fan from the funeral home in Tennessee, with his picture on it, and spent a couple of minutes reflecting on this brave man. It was awesome.
And today, Barack Obama is President of the United States. No offense if you're not on my bandwagon, but my world is good today!
(I lost my way once again in "save & edit" land.)
So, as I was saying..............I didn't stand up in 1961, but my man Martin, did! And I've always admired him for it. I went upstairs to my craft room and looked again at my little M.L. King doll standing at his little podium. Put in the tape of his "I Have A Dream " speech. Picked up the paper fan from the funeral home in Tennessee, with his picture on it, and spent a couple of minutes reflecting on this brave man. It was awesome.
And today, Barack Obama is President of the United States. No offense if you're not on my bandwagon, but my world is good today!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Martin Luther King Jr.......
One of my heroes. He & Johnny Cash & my Uncle Bob are my Heroes. Each for a different reason. Maybe someday I'll explain them all, but today is strictly for my man, Martin.
I'm watching Oprah and remembering an especially great man. And my initiation into racism.
I grew up in white suburbia. But, thank God I didn't grow up with racial prejudices. I wasn't exposed to blacks while growing up, but I also wasn't exposed to the ugly words used to describe them. Sure, I knew there were "Colored People" & "Negros." Those were acceptable terms while I was growing up. I remember hearing my parents using those words. But, not the N---- word. That was just not used in my house and I'm so very grateful for that!
My eye-opening experience came in some small town in Georgia in 1961. I was twelve years old. On my way, involved in a first time trip to Florida with my brother & his family. Oh, we'd had fun along the long drive. Picnic-ing at a rest stop along the way and interrupted by wild boars who were hungry. My bro throwing radishes to them while we escaped to the car. It was also my first stop at a motel that had a pool with a slide. WoW!! Oh, what fun we had! Then, the next day.............
I was thirsty. We stopped at a little country store so I could get a Coke. (and a brief respite from a couple of younger & irratiting nephews). Driving through this town, I'd noticed water fountains with signs, "White Only." "Colored Only." Hmmmmm, that was new to me. Hmmm.
I went into the store, got my coke (in a glass bottle, no less), and got in line at the register. There were several people in front of me in line. Men. Women. Girls. Boys. They were all black, which honestly, I hadn't even noticed. I was just in line to pay for my pop. All of a sudden, the guy (white) at the register, yelled to me. "Little Lady, step up here to the front." I looked around, having no idea he was referring to me. I knew where I was in the line, several people in front of me. Everybody backed off to allow me access to the front of the line. I'm thinking, "What the heck??" I'm way back in the line? Why is everyone looking at me? And expecting me to move to the front of the line?
I said to the guy, "I'm not next. These people are in front of me."
Storekeeper said,"These are only Niggers, they'll wait for you, step up little lady."
You know what? I humbly did. I didn't want to. I knew deep down that what I was doing was wrong. But, I did it. My only saving grace is that I remember that I was just a little girl in 1961. Very different from what may have occured in that same situation today.
I remember hearing about Selma and Integration & Cival Rights, as I was a young teenager. Those words sparked a flame in me, but I never did anything to help ignite that flame.
I'm watching Oprah and remembering an especially great man. And my initiation into racism.
I grew up in white suburbia. But, thank God I didn't grow up with racial prejudices. I wasn't exposed to blacks while growing up, but I also wasn't exposed to the ugly words used to describe them. Sure, I knew there were "Colored People" & "Negros." Those were acceptable terms while I was growing up. I remember hearing my parents using those words. But, not the N---- word. That was just not used in my house and I'm so very grateful for that!
My eye-opening experience came in some small town in Georgia in 1961. I was twelve years old. On my way, involved in a first time trip to Florida with my brother & his family. Oh, we'd had fun along the long drive. Picnic-ing at a rest stop along the way and interrupted by wild boars who were hungry. My bro throwing radishes to them while we escaped to the car. It was also my first stop at a motel that had a pool with a slide. WoW!! Oh, what fun we had! Then, the next day.............
I was thirsty. We stopped at a little country store so I could get a Coke. (and a brief respite from a couple of younger & irratiting nephews). Driving through this town, I'd noticed water fountains with signs, "White Only." "Colored Only." Hmmmmm, that was new to me. Hmmm.
I went into the store, got my coke (in a glass bottle, no less), and got in line at the register. There were several people in front of me in line. Men. Women. Girls. Boys. They were all black, which honestly, I hadn't even noticed. I was just in line to pay for my pop. All of a sudden, the guy (white) at the register, yelled to me. "Little Lady, step up here to the front." I looked around, having no idea he was referring to me. I knew where I was in the line, several people in front of me. Everybody backed off to allow me access to the front of the line. I'm thinking, "What the heck??" I'm way back in the line? Why is everyone looking at me? And expecting me to move to the front of the line?
I said to the guy, "I'm not next. These people are in front of me."
Storekeeper said,"These are only Niggers, they'll wait for you, step up little lady."
You know what? I humbly did. I didn't want to. I knew deep down that what I was doing was wrong. But, I did it. My only saving grace is that I remember that I was just a little girl in 1961. Very different from what may have occured in that same situation today.
I remember hearing about Selma and Integration & Cival Rights, as I was a young teenager. Those words sparked a flame in me, but I never did anything to help ignite that flame.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
enuf already
UNCLE!
I keep thinking one of these days I'll actually sit down here and write something wonderful and uplifting. Maybe tomorrow? UNfortunately, not today Again.
Typing now with very chilly fingers. Our corn stove went out earlier this evening. Just quit. Probably the blower, which we replaced only 2 years ago and will cost another $150.00 this time around. That really doesn't sound like such a big deal, does it? By itself, it really wouldn't be.
But, you see, we seem to be a on a continuous downward swirl for the past 3 weeks or so. Let's see, I lost my job. Richie's job is a great big "if" just now. The pump went out, replaced at $350.00 after days of Richie trying his best to fix it.
Then the windstorm that blew down 4 huge branches of the tree in our backyard. Yes, we were blessed that it didn't hit the house or electrical lines, believe me, I don't forget to count the good along with the bad. However, our chain saw was a gift from a friend and needs to be worked on. (i.e. it doesn't work). Small parts of tree moved and piled, big hunks still staring at us everyday.
Oh yeah, the same storm knocked the great big barn doors off kilter and they're shored up until the weather warms up and they can be worked on with a little help from our strong Amish friends.
Then there's the car. It's developed a hole in the exhaust manifold and the connecting gasket is gone. R took it in today & it would cost several hundred $s to fix it. With nearly 200,000 miles on the dear old vehicle, that's out of the question right now. So, we'll just keep on trucking & pray some cop hoping to make his ticket quota doesn't pass us!
What I feel the worst about is that the greatest burden of all this crap falls directly on R's shoulders. He's such a good guy. And health wise, he really doesn't need all this added stress. He's wound too tight and having nearly lost him to a heart attack 20 years ago, it really scares me. He needs a break from all this on his back.
I know, I know.........God doesn't give us more than we can handle. I KNOW that, but I wish he'd slack off a bit and spread this unfortunateness (new word) around a little bit. Just for a while. Till we can catch our breath and prepare for the next onslaught.
Thanks for listening once again.
xox
I keep thinking one of these days I'll actually sit down here and write something wonderful and uplifting. Maybe tomorrow? UNfortunately, not today Again.
Typing now with very chilly fingers. Our corn stove went out earlier this evening. Just quit. Probably the blower, which we replaced only 2 years ago and will cost another $150.00 this time around. That really doesn't sound like such a big deal, does it? By itself, it really wouldn't be.
But, you see, we seem to be a on a continuous downward swirl for the past 3 weeks or so. Let's see, I lost my job. Richie's job is a great big "if" just now. The pump went out, replaced at $350.00 after days of Richie trying his best to fix it.
Then the windstorm that blew down 4 huge branches of the tree in our backyard. Yes, we were blessed that it didn't hit the house or electrical lines, believe me, I don't forget to count the good along with the bad. However, our chain saw was a gift from a friend and needs to be worked on. (i.e. it doesn't work). Small parts of tree moved and piled, big hunks still staring at us everyday.
Oh yeah, the same storm knocked the great big barn doors off kilter and they're shored up until the weather warms up and they can be worked on with a little help from our strong Amish friends.
Then there's the car. It's developed a hole in the exhaust manifold and the connecting gasket is gone. R took it in today & it would cost several hundred $s to fix it. With nearly 200,000 miles on the dear old vehicle, that's out of the question right now. So, we'll just keep on trucking & pray some cop hoping to make his ticket quota doesn't pass us!
What I feel the worst about is that the greatest burden of all this crap falls directly on R's shoulders. He's such a good guy. And health wise, he really doesn't need all this added stress. He's wound too tight and having nearly lost him to a heart attack 20 years ago, it really scares me. He needs a break from all this on his back.
I know, I know.........God doesn't give us more than we can handle. I KNOW that, but I wish he'd slack off a bit and spread this unfortunateness (new word) around a little bit. Just for a while. Till we can catch our breath and prepare for the next onslaught.
Thanks for listening once again.
xox
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Drama Queen
Today was another day. Haven't even poked my head outdoors, but it looked pretty gloomy. I think I'm carrying around enough gloom of my own, I don't need to be in a gray day outside to add to the fun.
Applied for unemployment benefits yesterday. Should get a check in about 3 weeks. Tomorrow we'll be sitting down with all the financial stuff & trying to figure out how we'll survive this recession. Richie is scheduled to go back to work on the 19th, but I anticipate a call or a letter either delaying that or laying him off permanently too. Negative, yes. but, I haven't called it wrong yet.
Maybe I should join the theater community like my favorite Cuz! For several weeks I've portrayed Cleopatra.......in De Nile. More recently I've cast myself as Scarlet O'Hara.......Tomorrow is another day. I'm now leaning toward a new role as Rhett Butler........Frankly My Dear, I don't give a damn.
I'm thinking it's about time to take the Christmas tree down. I love the lights, but it's getting time to either take it down or dust all the ornaments. So, that's another job that will grow as it goes. Of course, I'll have to straighten out the Christmas closet, gather up all the holiday decorations, move them upstairs.........it exhausts me to think about it. Damn, I'm pretty much a no ambition mess these days.
Anybody watch America's Biggest Losers? We just discovered it in a marathon on New Year's Eve and got hooked. The new season started tonight, I think we're gonna be following it. Man, I give those people credit for being brave enough to let it all hang out. Literally. And those workouts. I think I would have punched a trainer once I caught my breath. But then again, I wish I had one to inspire me.
I've never been one for "Reality" shows. I'm just too skeptical a person to believe much of it is real. And I prefer my drama in something that really is just what it professes itself to be. Drama. A good fake movie anytime over made for TV bullshit drama.
So, with my cheeriness intact, I'll say goodnite for now. It's been real & it's been fun, etc.
xox
Friday, January 2, 2009
The Gang Of Girls
Yeah!!!
With a little help from G, I may have conquered the picture business. Wow....that's huge for me, one of the five things I listed to learn while I'm off work. Go me. And it's still early in the day.
This pic was taken at Janka's house on Traci's birthday in October. Featuring - left to right - Gennevra, Traci, Me, Jen (being goosed by Mama), Janka & Leigh (My only neice). Front row, Illeana & Dellia. That takes care of all the ladies in our family. And yes, we made the doors in the pic!
R just took pics of the work in progress, I'll try those later. S
See Ya.
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