First, I now have a much better understanding of how Christianity's holy writ and sacred tombs from all religions have been held dear by those who have found peace and solace from within their pages. Those who have felt love and joy and have felt sadness and grief through the verses of poets, those who have been uplifted and inspired by both composed word and tune. It is through the imaginations of those who have told stories of lore, fables, and fairy tales that minds have traveled with dragons, witnessed knights saving damsels in distress, searched for treasure, and battled giants throughout the ages. Now seems an appropriate time to say this, "In all kidding, lies truth," as mom used to say. It's my belief that in all of our stories, legends, lore, and fairy tales that truth and real life must exist. Magic must be real in some sense, just as we believe that Holy Writ is correct as far as it is correctly translated. The Navajo people have no written language, yet their stories and legends are known throughout their people. It would be impossible to tell them that they didn't see what they believed within the wind, the sand that swirled in the canyons, what they saw in the clouds, or what they knew in their hearts because of what their grandparent's grandparents had told them from generation to generation. This experience of being able to write, talk, and discuss the occurrences of my childhood, especially concerning the emotions associated with my mother, has made me realize that who I am, at my very core, is just a compilation of all those moments. I am what my mother taught me and helped me learn. We are after all, the sum total of all our experiences.
All of my brothers and sisters are extremely talented and gifted. I have had the wonderful experience of getting to hear from several of them since I have started this project (nice fringe benefit). I am by far the least qualified to be doing this. I know nothing about blogs, am an atrocious speller, and punctuation is something you get when you're sick (at least in my mind anyway), but luckily I have wonderful children and a wife who are willing to help me edit my thoughts, so my readers don't have to struggle quite so much. One thing I have always excelled at, over my brothers and sisters, is my ego. Even at the extent of jumping off the highest couch and landing squarely on my rear end onto the hard floor, just so I could capture the attention of the room. This project, though not on purpose, has given me an opportunity to receive lots of well wishes from people I have not heard from for many, many years. Which, at this current time, was something that buoyed up my soul and lightened my days.
As with all things we hold dear, it is because of the emotions they evoke. There is no other reason we would hold them dear. If we find value in anything, it is because it brings out emotion in us. Just as the above referenced materials do for millions of people around the world. When I first started this, I had the idea that I didn't really care if it impacted anyone but me, but just as with many other authors, it has now become very significant to me that others recognize why this means so much to me. I want others to feel the emotion and understand why I am putting the effort into sharing these memories at all, I want others to get a sense for how much my mother meant to me and how much she impacted my life. Over the last two months, I have found that I spent a great deal of time, thought, and emotional energy in thinking about this process. As you know, my brain is far from normal. It's a little like two halves, with one half constantly spinning, kind of like a whirling dervish. I found little in my life that allows my brain to shut down and focus. I have tried numerous medications, but feeling like " the walking dead" was not an option for me. Therefore, I have simply found creative ways to keep half of my brain occupied, while the other tries to keep me on task. This exercise has allowed me a respite and some relief, because it requires and allows a complete concentration and focus on the emotion of the past.
My mind is able to focus as I remember things like going through my father's second dresser drawer and seeing the pale yellow, green, and blue dress shirts with the white dry cleaning label wrapped around them. I remember searching through my mother's jewelry box and looking at the copper stone rings within. The heat from Olin Sheriff forges (He would cast Silver Ingots). The scent of pine and wood as pine nuts roasted in the oven, come back to me clearly. The smell of wet cement that occurred every spring in my basement bedroom. As I came home one day from Kindergarten, being dropped off by Ruby Brown, I could smell the coppery, sulfur smell of blood. As I walked into the house, mother was not in her usual spot, but I could hear her calling my name from the bathroom. I went to her, where she was in the bathtub, covered in blood. She told me to run and get Ruby before she left. I watched as Ruby washed her off, cleaned her up, and helped her to her bed. Then she told me to go lay by her. My mother crying as I lay by her side brought tears then and now. When I got up, Ruby had cleaned the bathtub, taken the bloodied garments in a plastic bag, and departed. I didn't know it then, but my mother had miscarried. Not long after, she would become pregnant again. She tells the story of going to the doctor and telling him she was pregnant. The doctor replied, "You're not pregnant. You're just going through the change." Mom replied, "I've been pregnant enough to know that I'm pregnant, so just give me the test. If I'm not pregnant I'll be pay for the test, but if I am pregnant you can pay for it." She regretted not betting him the cost of the whole pregnancy. Robert, my little brother, was the result. She said Robert was sent to protect and help her, and that the only reason that Robert came to her was because she was willing and someone else simply wasn't ready. Robert ended up being a special miracle to my mother and father. I will always be grateful for Robert's presence during my parents' later years, He was gentle and kind then and has continued to be, he has more of my mother's wonderful traits than most.
Gertrudism #12 " In all kidding, lies truth"
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Amazing as usual. It has been fun to get to know you better as you have shared the thoughts and feeling you have growing up, about your amazing mother, and about life and family. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteThank you Richard that means a lot
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