Aug 30, 2010

This was a picture of my mother taken circa 1939. It is probably the most precious thing my family had. That, and a picture of my Grandparents at their wedding, which I do not have. That picture was the prize, and the frame was very old. I would love to have that picture, or a copy, at least.

I think it says a lot about my families priorities in that there were no pictures that I can recall of my father's parents, or of him on his wedding day. My father worked hard keeping us together, and my mother worked equally hard trying to make a home for us, however it was, and to instill in us a fierce love for independence, good or bad. We have all had times when we needed help, but working up the raw courage to ask for it was horrendous. It was our option of last resort.

As kids we all knew that when we hit 18, we were out the door. Or at least that is the impression I was left with. One of my sisters came home to find that my mother had already packed her things for her. They didn't get on that well. That must have made a very lasting impression on my sister. She has proven very successful in her life, and now raises her grandson. I haven't spoken to her in almost 9 years, and wonder if I ever will. She has shut us out of her life, and I'm really not sure why. I hear she spends a lot of time at home, in her room, which, come to think of it was my mother's way of dealing with things. She went in her room, and you knocked always to enter. Conversely, my mother never knocked on a door in her life.

But, we sisters are all turning into my mother, slowly but surely. We all have a tendency toward distrust, and analyzing motives, but it is not that strong in me. I wish it was, at times. I have been taken for a ride many times but untrustworthy individuals, and could never quite grasp the concept of using someone so viciously for your own ends. Perhaps I have unknowingly used people, thinking I was doing something altruistic, but actually being very selfish in my rationale.

I don't know that my mother's sons inherited that aspect. They were looked on more favorably than the girls, as they were, just that, boys. And in keeping with that tradition, it is I guess in some way right that my oldest brother ended up with all the land my father worked so hard, so very, very hard to keep. I have always thought of owning land as a transient thing.Land as something we borrow on this earth, and happen to use it for a while, calling it our own. I understand that fortunes are made with land, but 50 years from now, who will care, who will remember? Hopefully we give something back, such as my father did, with the trees he planted, and the gardens he cultivated. My brother has also followed in his footsteps, in giving back to the land we called home.

And, I guess that's what makes this not just rambling, but a truth. When my mother passed away, that sense of home, the feeling we grew up with was gone. It evaporated, and left behind a house where my father would live, and I would live with him, but it never was really home again. We were waiting. And now, it is no more.


Spadoman said...

I'm sorry, I don't stop by here as often as I used to. You stopped writing and posting, or it was so long in between posts. But I am glad i stopped by today to check up on an old friend. (Not that you're old, you've been a blog friend for a long time).
I think we were brought up the same way. Dad worked his ass off. Mom did too, at home at first, then in the workplace after the last kid, (that would be memthe baby of the family), was just about out of high school. My Mom just passed this past February. It is different with her gone. My Dad passed in 1983.
I love my brother and my sister, but the truth be told, we don't have all that much in common. We live very differently from one another.
Thank you for sharing this with us. This is personal stuff and I am honored that you think we should be allowed to hear about your life.
In the meantime, I hope all is good with you. I see you on Facebook now and then. Take care and be well.


just me said...

Blogging used to be the way I probed my life and the things that have happened to me. Sometimes I wanted to share something funny, as there is always something funny to laugh at most days.

I am like you in that I am separated from my brother and sister not only from distance but from contact as well. I was also the youngest, and it has always been as if I was not really a member of the family, perhaps someone that just happened to live there. I tried so hard to be a sister, but, with my oldest sister Geraldine gone, there is no one who wants to see me as sister. So, I make new family members out of the dearest friends I have.

It seems I have a great many adopted children. Maybe this is my path. I am glad you stopped by and I visit your blog, but don't always feel smart enough to leave a comment.

Blessings always to you and yours. And I respect you Joe for following your own heart, and making your life accordingly. It is a brave and wonderful way to live.

just me said...

Joe, I am so sorry for the loss of your mother. There is nothing harder to endure in this world than the loss of your mother, no matter what the relationship. The only thing harder is the loss of your child.

As always, may the great spirit be with you always. May you be favored for your gifts and blessed in all you do.

SJ said...

My father's side of the family hardly ever get together I think he has not spoken to his brother in years. My mother's family is the opposite not only her siblings but her cousins and others still meet and greet at the rare occasion. I met her 99 year old uncle a few weeks back at one of the family gatherings. He was in tears at meeting them all.

just me said...

I would love to meet your 99 year old uncle. The amazing events he has witnessed in his life! Talking with my dad, he could remember renting horses in town when he was a young man. He was born in 1908, so, had he lived, he would have been 102.

Anyway, stay as close to your family as you can. There will be days when they are all you have. Love you SJ!