A leader?

I remember in 5th grade a teacher named Mr. Haskins. Mr. Haskins was a former US Marine, and seemed the coolest and most generous person I ever knew. Once, on a day he was in uniform for some reason and he introduced me to someone (can’t remember).

He said “This is Jimmy – Jimmy is going to be a leader someday”.

Me. A leader someday.

Could he tell my mother?

I told her that he had said that. She said “Sure, he doesn’t know you like I do. If he knew you like I do he wouldn’t say that. He’s just being nice.”
Yes, there was a sudden burst of air leaving the balloon.

Mr. Daulberg

One that treated me different was Mr Dahlberg. For the entirety of 6th grade biology he treated me like I was the best kid he ever met. He let me be his “lab assistant”, which meant the the domain of the lab animals was mine to rule. I got to feed and care for the animals, and for once in my life, make decisions that were virtually always accepted as good. Seemed like he genuinely liked me.

No one

What was always saddest to me is that there was no one to talk to. I was convinced that I was the worst kid there ever was, mostly because I was told daily that it was so. I never could talk about it, because the only people in my world seemed to have bought into it as my mother put it out – my dad, my sisters and brothers – all seemed part of it – they never really stood up against it.

Maybe it was true – she was right.

That’s how I entered adolescence – convinced that I was the only one who ever thought about me as other than good-for-nothing-bawn-liah-who-will-turn-out-just-like-my-fathah-and-brothah.

Sick and kneeling

I remember a Sunday that was during a summer visit to Nana's. She was pretty strong on going to church. We went, and since it was Catholic, there was an involved series of actions we had to take during worship...kneeling, genuflecting, sitting, standing. They were part of the discipline of worship, and Nana expected me to do them according to the honor deserved by the God we worship.

This one Sunday I was feeling pretty miserable. Stomach ache I think. Couldn't sit still. And the kneeling...! I was in pain. Nana explained that I needed to kneel anyway. I could hardly stand it (I think I was 9). I squirmed. I wiggled. I bent my head.

Nana got pretty mad. She was not happy with me. We walked out of the church in silence, her glaring and me relieved. We didn't talk about it anymore.

I wondered if Jesus really wanted me in church sick. Did't matter. Nana did.

The Pact

Didn't find out about it until a couple of months afterwards.

When she was in those last stages, she had said she didn't want Jimmy around. On the last night, unknown to me, the fam had gathered at her house and were kind of living there, watching and waiting. (Kind of morbid actually). In that whole time, there was no call to Jimmy.

On that last night, the doctor had said she should have died...she must be holding on for something, it might be something unfinished. The 4 had no idea what it could be. Dad didn't know what it could be. He told the kids to call me and get me on the phone. "She doesn't want him". "I am making the decision, make it happen"

They made the call happen.

To France.

I talked to him the next day, after she had died. I was standing in a phone booth by a country road in France telling him I loved him and wished I could be with him. In some ways it as a sweet time - sweeter than we'd ever had. But in the aftermath, after the 4 gbrought him to his senses, it was Jimmy, again. Just get out of my sight.

Slow children

So it had been a regular day for third grade. We all loved Miss Dilworth. She was blond, beautiful, young,m and she drove a Barracuda. How cool was that.

The most not regular thing about the day was that it was my birthday.

I got home from school after the usual walk. My big sister had her usual report for my mother about my walk home, as if she was a superior being.

"Well, he walked so slow, and I told him to hurry, and he didn't".

"Why don;t you listen to your sister?" Ok, so I'm a third grader. She's in 4th. Listen to her? I went slow, a crime? Not fast enough for her?

"I can never trust you. Get upstairs out of my sight".

The warm greeting of a mother.

"Can't even have a decent birthday" I muttered going up the stairs.

The wedding

It had been a long cruise. Away with the Navy was no fun. But, there I was, off the ship after 6 months and home with my sweetie. Home on Thursday, just in time to get married on Saturday as scheduled.

So I spend the night at my friend's house, recovering from the jet lag of traveling home and trying to adjust to what is about to happen. Friday I spend the day getting a tux, rehearsal dinner, and all that stuff. The wedding is Saturday afternoon.

Saturady mornign first thing I go to my parents house with a bunch of roses for my mother. Won't it be good to see them...we still aren't good, but it is my wedding day.

The door opens "Oh, hello" she says stiffly.

"Hi...I bought you these".

"Well, I won't be coming to the wedding."

"Why not"

"You didn't come to see us until now. Your father has gone to the airport to get your grandparents. He'll be going, but I'm not."

"I just got back in the country"

"You got back int he country 2 days ago"

"I had a lot to do"

"If you don't have time for us I am not coming"

"Oh."

The way it came down

When she finally died after the years of cancer, it was a surreal ending that seemed scripted. I knew they'd do it to me. They'd figure out some way to make me look bad and miss the funeral, then be mad that I did, just to keep the thign going.

Sound kind of weird.

But they did.

There came a point that they (the 4) were ushered to her side because she really was going to die this time. They called in last rites. She was still talking, dictating, and they were following like always. He (Dad) was watching her slip away, and likely wondering what it would be like...some ways a relief becuase this was so hard to maintain....some ways new because it had been so long....lonely....sad...wondering.

She said she didn't want Jimmy to come. No one asked why, it was assumed that would be the case.

I got word that she was bad, my niece happened to be talking to my daughter and she mentioned that her Nana (my mother) was pretty bad. My daugher told me. I called my brother, he said "she's been bad for years, I'm not coming up (he lived in Texas), I'm going on as if she'll be around for Thanksgiving, months from now". I asked him to be sure and tell me if anything changes. "Sure", he lied.

Word is he came to the last rites.

No call.

So there I was in France having dinner when my son-in-law's cell rings. "It's your sister" says Steve. "Hello?" "Yes, Jimmy, this is Susan. Mother is dying and we think she is holding out for something...maybe talking to you will help her let go". (Note ther is no, "gee, we wish you were here, this is so sad, you'll probably never see her again"...just "could you help her die and stop screwing things up again". And, of course, I didn't know the secret pact at the time.

"I'll put the phone to her ear now". "Hello, Mom. I am so sorry that I am not there. And I am very sorry that you are hurting so bad. I knwo things are not good with us, but I love you, and Mom, it is OK for you to go now. You can let go. Jesus loves you Mom. Let Him have your heart. I love you too."

She died that night.

Shrimp at the beach

There were those times that things seemed good.

Like when I was with Nana and Auntie.

Auntie always acted like she loved me. She laughed appropriately when I was trying to be funny, she made nice remarks, and never insulted me.

Not much to ask for from a 10 year old.

Anyway, I remember once when I had discovered shrimp in one of those little ponds left behind from the tide. I scooped up some in a jar or bucket and ran to show her and Nana. "Oh," she said, "You've found shrimp. I love shhrimp". "I'm going to go find some more" I said in an excited 10 year old hurry. She said to Nana "See, he really does have ambition".

Doesn't sound like much. It wasn't. But I didn't get much either.