Thoughts.com Blogs - My So Called Life....Chapter 3

We moved into our new home in Jan 1971, it was a rather large home in a big neighborhood, the biggest street we lived on so far.
I thought this would be a good thing, turned out not to be so good. My mom had the gift of gab and never met a stranger, so she quickly made friends with all the neighbors. They would help her should she need some little thing, like neighbors do and she was always willing to lend a helping hand.

The house was positioned down a slope/embankment and looked as if it had been dropped by a crane into its spot. There was a semi-circular drive in front and a large garden spot in the back. My dad promptly planted a vegetable garden as soon as it warmed up enough. He had a green thumb and had gardened all of his life, so the garden was his pride and joy. I was too young to be of any use in the garden, so was not allowed to help him. He was very persnickety about straight lines and spacing, things my little seven year old mind had not learned yet.

I can close my eyes and visually walk through this house, the placing of the furniture. The large spacious rooms and the entrances and exits, the side porch and the front porch. I remember the ceilings and the doorknobs. This is the first home that I remember the inside structures and colors.

We were able to play in the yard, but never to leave the boundaries set by our parents, and believe you me, we did not. One look from my mother and we stood at attention. I have to tell you that I don't recall ever receiving a spanking as a small child, just those nice long lectures that make you feel like a rat. You know the ones about: I try my best to give you a good life and teach you right from wrong, and this is what you do? As an adult I realize that in order to keep order in the family she had to be firm with us.

The street we lived on had several families on it, children our age were not something we were accustomed to living by. In Alabama we always lived beside older people. To the right of us was a huge family of HEATHENS, and that is the only way to describe them. While we did not have a lot, they had nothing. There were seven children and they were mean as snakes. The winter we moved there the boys would come outside to play and roughhouse. They did not own shoes, so they played barefoot(can you imagine letting your child outside in winter with no shoes). Their little feet would just be blue, giving them the appearance of wearing blue shoes.

While we lived there we owned a dog, her name was Cocoa and she was beautiful, a small collie of some sort. The neighbor boys would try to chase her down and hurt her, so most of the time she had to stay inside. They poisoned neighbors animals, put dirt clods from our garden in the corners of my mothers fitted sheets(hanging on the clothes line) and just raised all matters of hell. It was a unique experience for us kids, like watching a bunch of caged monkeys..what will they do next? Their mother and father both drank and raised all matters of hell, so bless the kids hearts they were mostly on their own. They were hungry and poor and looking for trouble. One day my mother put hamburgers on the grill on our side porch. While she was inside preparing the rest of the food, the heathen boys opened the grill and sprinkled dirt on all of the burgers. We could ill afford meat so my mom was furious. Can you believe that? They were creative, gotta give em that.

We were entered into a new school, after attending the other school(near the trailer)for only two weeks. I was in a worldwind of confusion and it took me some time to settle into the routine. I don't recall very much about my days at this school, however I do remember each teacher and how they treated me. If there are teachers reading this, the children WILL remember how you treat them, years later. I'm not just talking about what you say or do, I'm talking about body language. They whispered behind their hands and overall treated me differently, at least that is what I felt as a child. There were at this school some kind people, the school nurse was one of them. While I was never sick, she checked everyone regularly and treated me with respect. The librarian read to us and had a gentle, kind way about her.

I was always clean, we bathed every night and washed our hair every other night. We wore clean clothes and shoes with socks. Brushed our teeth every morning and night and mother cut our nails weekly. I don't know why the teachers whispered, unless our permanent records(you know the plague that follows you all the days of your life)had something written in them. Perhaps some well meaning teacher wrote a concern, I'll never know, but it did leave a negative impression on me.

I excelled at this school, because I loved to read. We did SRA reading cards(someone out there knows what these are). They had a little story on them, and then you answered questions. You could travel through them at your own pace, so I whizzed through. Not sure if I was trying to impress the teacher, or if they were just that interesting(ha). Another thing I excelled at was achievement tests. I loved those tests. Got to fill in the little bubbles with the new pencil all sharpened and everything..just takes me back.

I did not however excel at gym. I was small and weak, and though I had a good attitude, I was always picked last for everything(dammit). I can say that now, years removed from the agony, but at the time it was a painful experience. I have fond memories of the playground and learning to swing. I really thought if I pumped hard enough I could go over the top bar..not sure what I was gonna happen after I did, but was totally unconcerned about that. My sister who is one year older than me, failed the first grade, so she was my constant companion. I clearly see in my mind's eye us swinging side by side, competing for who could get the highest(and go over the bar first, ha).

This is the home that I realized what alcohol addiction looked like. While we lived in Alabama my father drank at the bars, and I assume he came home late at night after we were all secured in bed and asleep. I figure that part of the agreement to get back together involved no more trips to bars(and the temptation of other women). I am also sure that going to a bar every night or even several nights a week, put a strain on them financially. I remember a story I heard from my mother about the power board turning off the heat in the dead of winter(due to the overdue bill). The gas guy took her outside and showed her how he was going to turn it off, and then kindly FORGOT his tool beside the turn off switch. Allowing my mother to go back out after dark and turn it back on to heat the house for her children. God Bless this man's heart for his kindness. This must have been most embarassing for her as she was raised in a modest home with modest means, where her father would have never taken money from his family to go to a bar.

My father kept that promise apparently, as I don't remember him ever leaving to go to a bar. No, he stayed home and drank in front of his children, leaving a lasting impression of what alcohol can truely do to a person. Leaving all of us in a constant state of fear.