Tag: relationships

Mom & Dad

Daily writing prompt
What were your parents doing at your age?
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I often think about Mom & Dad at my age of 68 and what they were doing.

Mom, with a couple divorces behind her, was a late bloomer in some ways. She’d given birth to seven children. Five lived. Forfeiting graduating high school to leave her small town of Turin, Iowa and find employment and begin her own life, she eventually acquired her GED. That was long after I’d left home and begun my life. After gaining her GED, she went to college and became an LPN and RN. A twenty-year in that followed; she retired at my current age, devoting herself to being a grandmother.

Dad and Mom had divorced decades before. Dad was in the military, the U.S. Air Force. After retiring at 20 years, when he was thirty-nine years old, he worked in the grocery business as a produce manager and then bought his own restaurant. When he was around 48, twenty years younger than I am now, he moved west to Texas. He worked in different retail businesses while becoming a real estate agent. He always like running stores, though. Eventually, he was running the largest truck stop west of the Mississippi. Along the way, he met another woman; she became his third wife. They’ll be married 33 years on Valentine’s Day of 2025. Meanwhile, he kept managing that truck stop. Every time he told them he was thinking about retiring, they’d offer him more pay, bonuses, and vacation. He did eventually give it up when he was 80. So at my current age, he was fully in the thick of running it.

They’re a surprising couple. From lower class working roots, they married many times. Each had productive careers. Between the two of them, each was parent to seven children but they also buried three children. Five of us siblings shared them as parents. I left Mom’s home when I was 14 to live with Dad and then left his house at 17, joining the military as Dad had done, so much of what I saw of their lives was through a long distance lens. Mom and Dad remain alive. Mom is 89 and Dad is 92. Both endure health issues but because of the era when they worked and the effort they put in, they have excellent health benefits.

Of course, the flip side of it all is, what will I be like at their ages?

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Thursdaz’s Theme Music

The sixth day of February has boarded our minds in the year of 2025 CE, a Thursdaz. Crazy frog — our home’s expression for freezing fog, based on a mondetext — has stolen the sunlight, gifting us twilight colors of, gray, white, and black. No snow falling but ‘they’ are warning us that more is on the way. It’s 32 F and greater warmth isn’t anticipated. Snow might be on the way. Or rain.

The primary roads have been plowed here but get off them and yer on yer own. Sidewalks on not cleared, so people must walk on the streets. Everyone gives pedestrians on the roads wide passage but given the environment, I imagine people walking worry with every step about someone losing control of their vehicle.

Weather caused cancellation of my first two lymphedema massage therapy sessions. Another one is scheduled for tomorrow. Also have an appointment for Papi the ginger blade, aka butter butt, Meep, and butter booger, to see what’s going on about his fur shedding.

The Ban Man is at it. Trump bans with a petulant thump. “Ban transsexuals in women’s sports.” Thump. “If I can’t have fun and play sports, neither can they.” “Ban DEI. I’m a rich white guy, born into a wealthy white household. I don’t understand how that was an advantage over others.” Thump. “Ban it all, everything that isn’t me.” Thump.

Of course, the craziness of the first term is still flowering. ‘The U.S. will take over Gaza. Move the Palestinians out.’ What? Friggin’ nuts. Then his ‘team’ scrambles to make it sound sane, plausible, and supported by everyone, and then Trump realizes how nuts he sounded and tries to change what he said. Brother.

It was a busy morning. Friend called to ask advice about his ailing cat. Another called for help with his recalcitrant computer. And, caught up with Mom drama via texts with Mom and a sis. Mom fell again. She refuses assistance and she’s been at war with her live-in boyfriend for months. She’s 89 and he’s 94. I have never witnessed him be anything but polite and nice to her but she declares him mean. My siblings and I have a lifetime of Mom so her claims draw leeriness as a first response. It’s unfortunate but she’s been married multiple times and has had several boyfriends, and drama is her drug. She makes everything contentious with everyone. It’s a sigh-inducing relationship with her.

With that gray-tinged white world staring back at us, it’s no surprise that The Neurons pulled a Cream song, “White Room”, into the morning mental music stream. It’s a Cream favorite o’ mine. A poet, Pete Brown, was responsible for the lyrics, which strike many as enigmatic. I think iyhat pushes me to look inside myself.

My favorite part is this stanza, followed by the chorus.

You said no strings could secure you at the station
Platform ticket, restless diesels,goodbye windows
I walked into such a sad time at the station
As I walked out, felt my own need, just beginning

[Chorus]
I’ll wait in the queue when the trains come back
Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves

h/t to genius.com

I like the way the stanza is belted out, angry, defiant, challenging, before the softly resigned introspection presented by the chorus.

Then, too, there are three phenomenal rock performers demonstrating their craft with bass guitar, lead guitar, and drums. Awesome.

Coffee and I introduced ourselves to one another again and I’m indulging in more caffeine-infused dark goodness. Hope your day offers some escape from the world’s woes and some satisfaction to your plans. Cheers

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Saturda’s Wandering Thoughts

My wife doesn’t want me to mop the hardwood floors. I asked for feedback: “Why?”

“You don’t do a good job.”

I was insulted. But, the craftiness in me decided, well, that means that she will always mop the floor.

On the other hand, she admits that I do a much better job cleaning the stainless steel kitchen appliances. Although, she notes, she thinks that I’m “a little obsessive” about having it streak free.

It all works out. I do those items, and she does the floor, and we’re both happy.

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Sunda’s Wandering Thoughts

My wife has a new laptop ‘puter. “How should I keep it clean?” she asked me. “What should I use? I want to keep it clean. I was terrible about that with my last one and I don’t want to be like that this time.”

“I don’t know how to keep it clean,” I replied, although I had some ideas like, don’t eat while you’re using it.

“But I thought you were a tech guy and knows all this stuff.”

“You’ve mistaken me for someone else. Why don’t you research how to keep it clean? You know, search the net.”

“I am researching. I’m asking you.”

I laughed. “Okay, I’ll do a quick search.”

“See?” my wife exclaimed with a grin. “It worked.”

We both laughed.

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Windsday’s Theme Music

Mood: springtimistic

Welcome to Windsday, December 11, 2024. We’re calling it Windsday here in Ashlandia as the wind is calling the moves and has the trees square-dancing under a white slab of sky. Currently, the thermometer sits at 42 F and the thermostat rests at 68 F. Today’s high will see the measuring one stab at the low fifties.

We descended on friends’ house for their birthday party last night. The couple have been married 45 years and share the same birthday. So, per their wishes, we arrived with pizza from their favorite place, a salad my wife provided, and a few pints of Talenti ice cream. Intelligent and engaging people a few clicks older than us, a good time was had. They have two young cats who are not permitted to be outside except in their backyard on a harness or in their catio. For some reason, the wife gave me two containers of Applaws sardine and mackarel catfood. I fed our floofs one of these this morning. Man, they licked the bowls clean and stumbled away, grinnin’ and lickin’. I think they liked it.

Our late purveyor of news, Ashland Daily Tidings, had a Frankenstein moment. The newspaper name and their old website were used to provide fake news to the world. Yes, because the world has a fake-news shortage, I suppose. No, whoever did it is just sucky people doing sucky things. I suppose the bottom line is that their life sucks and they want to spread the suck. Thus, I suspect that they are rightwingers. Modern rightwingers aren’t happy unless everyone conforms to their sucky version of being. Now that they’ve elected a sucky guy who will be a sucky prez, and is assembling a sucky administration, the suckiness will commence in January.

But, The Neurons said. The Neurons have “The Rose” playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sucky). “The Rose” was a 1979 hit for Bette Midler out of the movie called The Rose. The Neurons are riding the lines that go, “Just remember in the winter, beneath the bitter snow, lies the seed that with the sun’s love in the spring becomes the rose.” Good idea to rally around: with this sucky prezzidency falling over us, we’re going into winter. But we just must nurture those seeds of freedom, democracy, equality, and sanity, and help them bloom when the sucky winter is over.

Lean toward the sun. Be pos. Coffee and I have begun a new day of collaboration. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Freshcoffeesion

Oh, it’s Friday. October 25, 2024.

Fall is bracketing our valley. Clouds sprawl across the sky at different altitudes. Several cloud styles are in evidence, and they wear fifty shades of gray and blue. Sunlight finds cracks and rushes down in bold pools of bright light but the air is chilly. 62 with a sullen wind, we expect 72 to define today’s high temperature.

Empty Bowls to raise money for our local food banks is tonight. My wife is busy setting creating the centerpieces for the tables. I used to be involved with it, but she gently moved me aside and replaced me with Barb. Barb just celebrated her 96 birthday, but she loves making centerpieces. It all works out.

I have daughters in my mind today. First my current novel in progress deals with mothers and daughters. And sisters. Those are important and complex aspects of the story told. Second, I have four sisters, and several of them deal with Mom as my proxy. Mom can be challenging and often frustrates my sisters. Frustrates me, too, but my sisters reach out to me to vent.

Third, I have another friend who was talking about her daughter. Her daughter irritates and annoys her; they clash in multiple arenas of thoughts. It surprises me. I know both women. They’re intelligent and good-humored individuals. Yet, they exasperate each other. I struggle to understand how and why that happens. But I’ve witnessed their interactions. Just an oil and water thing.

Thinking of daughters prompted Der Neurons to fire up Pearl Jam’s 1993 song, “Daughter”, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark streaming). It’s a song about a misunderstood child. It’s ending refrain is “The shades go down”, which reinforces the idea that something is going on that is hidden from the rest of us. The song always hooks my thoughts about the things which happen to children.

On that cheery high, I’ll press on to find my way through another day. Coffee has come onboard my effort and will help guide my energies. Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue. Here’s the music video.

Cheers

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Today’s Wandering Thoughts

I found myself thinking about my parents as I dressed this morning. One is from Iowa and resides in Pennsylvania. The other is from Pennsylvania and lives in Texas. They divorced way back in the mid 1960s. Were friends or friendly off and on. Now Mom is bitter and angry about Dad; Dad is reflective about Mom.

I left their homes when I was 17. I’ve visited both as they moved around, remarried, and raised other families. As they’ve aged, Dad tells me he’d like to be closer to me. Mom tells me she’d like to hear from me more often because she worries about me.

But a large elephant marches through their desires. I’ve been married 49 years. Mom visited me once, when I bought her an airline ticket and forced it to happen. Dad visited me once in my first year of marriage, dropping by with my father-in-law for thirty minutes while they happened to be in the area. It just didn’t seem like they were deeply invested in being part of my life.

I don’t feel abandoned by them. Dad admits he wasn’t a good father and wasn’t there. Mom insists she was there as much as she could be. I do see their sides but I’m indifferent to Dad’s efforts for us to be closer or to Mom’s request for me to alleviate worries. I could employ simple sophistry and claim, they made me who I am, but really, I head little from them across my decades of living. Sure, they always sent birthday and holiday cards, but mostly there were months of silence. Yes, I know they each raised other children and went on through a few more marriages.

I get all of that. My feelings about them slice along a spectrum. I love them as they love me, from a distance. I know they made sacrifices on my behalf to ensure I had food and shelter security and a place to call home. But at an early age, as I watched their fights and listened to their arguments, I made a decision to be independent of them. Sure, there are days when I surf the spectrum of our relationships when I want to help them out of guilt or empathy. They become less as I move through my life, age, and deal with my own issues.

My parents both have been supportive in many ways. They tell me they’re proud of me. My wife points out that it all would’ve probably been different if she and I had children.

But we didn’t, and this is where my parents and I stand, like many other parents and their offspring, at a complex crossroads which we never leave.

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Floof Generis

Floof Generis (floofinition) – One of a kind sort of animal, which can be decided by personality, appearance, or actions. Origin: early 1900s, middle Floofinus influences.

In Use: “Camilla was a floof generis, understanding her human’s needs before a word was said, silently rushing off to bring Colleen her cell phone before it rang, opening the refrigerator to bring back a beer, fetching newspapers and books, and of course, slippers and blankets.”

In Use: “The relationship between the child, crow, cat, and dog was so floof generis that videos of it stormed through social media.”

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Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

My wife chastised me for ‘using too much soap’ when I was cleaning the cat’s bowls.

I apologized, having been unaware the restriction existed. Ignorance is not a defense, of course. I await my sentencing.

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

My wife and I were out shopping for new sheets and pillows last weekend. She came to me with a mug and a grin.

“This is you.” She handed me the mug. “I’m buying it for you.”

She’s right. After running it through the dishwasher with a load, this is now my morning coffee cup.

Thanks, sweetheart.

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