Please don’t forget. Forgive and forget are not synonymous, although my background would suggest they are. All my life it was “forgive and forget,” which, when you think about it, makes perfect sense – if you’re my parents. Forgetting was the same as pretending it, whatever “it” was, never happened in my family. Michelle had my dad’s baby? Erase her off the whiteboard of our life. No pictures, no reference allowed, no contact. She, the victim, was shunned. Sent away and forgotten. Except, of course, she wasn’t. She was a terrible wound that festered just beneath the surface of our lives, all … [Read more...]
I Miss My Daddy
Maybe it’s that I’ve had two surgeries in three weeks and my carefully crafted “soft armor” slipped. Maybe it’s simply that now and then a little arrow of loss targets a heart and slips through to connect. Maybe it’s the lie perched on a tongue that says “I’m fine,” when “fine” is the least common denominator at that particular moment. Today, while looking for a photograph in my archives, this one fills the screen from a location I didn’t remember it being placed, and makes me cry. One instant I’ve taken note of a mirror smooth river, crisp air and glorious mountains, the next I’m smoothing … [Read more...]
I Am Not That Person
I’m not. I admire those who are. But it’s not me. What am I talking about? I have very little sympathy and no empathy for child molesters. Like – none. It isn’t in my DNA. I don’t feel bad about that. I have seen the landscape of families littered with the fallout of abusers. Children’s lives altered forever, mother’s hearts shattered into tiny little pieces at the news HER child was sexually abused. I’ve seen stunned grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles, sisters and brothers shake their heads as if clearing vision when disclosure occurs. Shrapnel is indiscriminate. Collateral … [Read more...]
My Grandmothers Gave Me Roots and Wings
Grandma was safe. Nana Kaye was a feminist before her time. Grandma gave me roots, Nana Kaye wings – the kind that help you soar, not just flutter out of the nest or hop from branch to branch. I often get asked, “What, do you think, helped you craft a decent life given your family’s history?” When my therapist first posed the question, I couldn’t say. Now perhaps I can. There appear to be common threads in resilience. A bad childhood is not a life sentence. As early as I can remember, Grandma was. Roly-poly, fluffy haired, barely five feet tall, her infectious laughter sparkled. When I … [Read more...]
Am I Doing The Right Thing?
Old voices. Old tapes. Family mores. And then there’s the history. Step off my family’s beaten path and reprisals were swift and carefully crafted to fell the wanderer. Once bested, the shepherd’s crook yanked the willful one back into the fold. I’ve been out of that fold for over thirty years now. I dodged the shepherds crook, protected my kids, and guaranteed that I couldn’t be trifled with by my parents. And still these childhood lessons insinuate. I find it amusing, no, that’s not quite the right word…curious how my mind works. Over coffee on our deck one morning, I told my husband that … [Read more...]
Family Secrets
All families have history, which is a euphemism for “skeletons in the closet.” They are alluded to, whispered about. Perhaps they become family folklore. Usually, there’s something about the story the family doesn’t want to talk about at all. I don’t know if my siblings know that our Nana Kaye married to escape her sexually abusive father. Because of him, my paternal grandparents left Kansas to homestead in Montana. I know this because Nana Kaye told me. I did not know about my Nana the day Stephanie had had enough. Stephanie was my high school chemistry lab partner the year we were in … [Read more...]
