Sunday Scribblings Where I came from

Sunday Scribblings prompt this week is " Where I come from"

It took me years to realize my parents were probably artists. Mother the hairdresser sculpting styles with pin curls, father with melodic voice, playing the harmonic by ear.. Growing up mom would polka dot old lamps or revamped a piece of furniture with a coat of paint. Her first self indulgence as an adult was a brand new singer sewing machine bought in the 1940’s, used to tailor her suits. (I still have that machine too!)

She made me a coat out of dad’s old clothing, many dresses, shorts and blouses.

Although dad had very little education, I’m embarrassed to say elementary level; he bought a how to book and built a house, in his thirties.A few years later made me a playhouse to match! Both parents were Jacks of all trades. What one couldn’t do the other would try. Tenacious in nature Mom went into labor six weeks early with my brother while painting her living room. Together they built a cozy home.

Dads dancing abilities wooed the women, who fought to have him as their partner. Years after he died women still spoke of his incredible dancing skills. Athletically he was profound, cliff diving in his youth; he also bowled, curled, swam, could skate, and perfected his golfing skills to always being one of the best. You name it; he could do almost anything he set his mind to. Yet he had a deep seeded insecurity, stemming from his low level education. Extremely wise, with amazing common sense, he became an avid reader in his mid years, making up for any previous deficiencies.

Mom with the rolling pin, her sister, and best friends!

Along with sewing, mom could have been the Rachel Ray of today with her envied cooking skills and perfected pies. There was always a soup on the back burner, a book on the table and some creation ready to emerge. My mother was a spitfire go getter like my daughter. She made things happen, working full time while still being a dedicated homemaker too! When I was thirteen she crocheted me two gorgeous dresses,that I loved . She saved them for years in her sewing trunk, silly me I let them be carted off to Big Brothers. I feel sick about it now! I could kick myself for being so nonchalant about such craftsmanship! There are no photos of them, only memories.

A similar style to this one, except the top was

empire waist,completely crocheted and lined,

in this exact stitch and color!

The second dress was the same pattern

in variegated purple wool.

I think I come from a long line of creative souls. My maternal grandfather was a carpenter who played the fiddle at dances and told jokes. My paternal grandmother played the piano. My mother’s mom made crafts out of what ever she could find, was an incredible cook and loved gardening. I often wonder if there were a few gypsies in the mix on her side.

Would my parents ever have thought of themselves as artists? NEVER…and they would have thought it frivolous to chase such a dream. Introduced into poverty at a young age, both parents, raised by single mothers, felt making a decent living should always be priority! Because I spent years chasing a buck, on a fast treadmill of life, got sick doing so, was forced to change, I now have a different philosophy. Do what you love, love what you do, the money will come secondary! Now that's where I come from!

The Poet and the Crush

During a jaunt around blog land

Through a process of google searches

Almost forty years later

A personal mystery unfolds

Nineteen seventy

March 30^th

Late at night

I lay on the floor

In front of the oven

After three attempts

At baking

a birthday cake

For the sixteenth birthday

Of my crush

A long haired shy boy

Who bit his nails

To the quick

Smoked too many cigarettes

Had family problems

And always seemed sad

Who knows what the allure was

A need to rescue the underdog

My jovial personality

Seemed to crave the sullen opposite

The power behind the quiet

A couple of months later

Alan started dating a girl

In his own grade

Married her three years later

My jealous angst had dissipated

As I stood with my partner

Watching their honking limo

Drive up Lonsdale

During the day of their nuptials

I was married later that same year

Coincidentally my husband

Worked with him for a few years

He went on to have three children

Moved further up the mountain

Near my brother in law

Sixteen years passed

It was nineteen eighty nine

I had a rental house

Three cities from where he lived

It came time to sell

We got an offer on the place

The realtor pronounced the name

Of the prospective buyer wrong

I immediately corrected her

It was my crush from long ago

He wanted to buy my two bedroom house

With a finished basement

For his family of five

It was the only clean place they could find

Within their price range

I had moved up

He bought my house

He looked exactly the same

Only more disheveled and aged

I was grateful I never married him

Linda his wife was so sweet

I liked her immediately

They were meant for each other

Yesterday during my blog treks

I happened upon the annual Canadian poet’s award

I recognized it as his mother’s name

I read further

Recalling that fateful time

Two years after we were married

When she was sadly found murdered

Newspapers alluded to a random killer

I don’t recall hearing much after that

Seems her time here inspired books

About her, about her poetry, about her custody battle for Alan

Her sad demise by the hands of a teacher

her second husband bludgeoned her with a hammer

then dumped her in a creek miles away

Surprise surprise……did you doubt it?

Why are people always shocked when it’s the husband?

I was then........I'm not now!

You can read more about Pat here, here and here!

Just Because She Didn't Tell!

This was a hard prompt for me! Re hashing past pain is difficult, I feel this piece needs a lot more work. I needed to post something so, I just released it. This was nothing more than an innocent friendship.

Poetry Thursday

Just because she didn’t tell

She traveled on his shoulders

weaving through Canada Day crowds
Rock band played stridently in celebration,

an entourage of envious girls followed.
Strapping young guy, well over six feet tall,

gothic all in black, long ripped shorts,

appearing more like a man,

than a boy of fourteen.

Kyle I learned was his name,

girls were swooning over him,

he confided in Pepper
that he was bisexual or gay,

surprised by his confession,

she locked up his words,

promising to tell no other.

Summer was over, back to school

in the halls Kyle jested with my petite girl
Secret crushes were revealed by her cronies,

jealously exuded, still, she could not tell
Protecting his older brother

from possible backlash,

Kyle chose not to divulge his orientation,
Only after his brothers graduation

would he proudly expose his sexuality

The friendship continued

assumptions were made by resentful girlfriends
the viral Green monster plagued the group,

angered, they blatantly ignored her,
Devastated, still, she could not reveal the secret,

they called her names, gossiped,
Deliberately ousted, they shunned her,

still she told no one

She wept in desolation,

four years of camaraderie,

water slides, swimming, Skating, sleepovers,

camping, concerts, birthday parties, bowling,
Haunted houses, homework sessions, instant messaging,

dinners, movies, giggling,
Then, with one pinch from the green monster,

it was gone,

still she wouldn't tell

She sobbed tears of grief, for the loss, the betrayal;

bravely she went on, sad beyond imagining
My heart broke; I was stunned

good girls, in a state of meanness
Male friends comforted her with kindness,

some had ulterior motives
Never a replacement for her girls,

the joy, the laughter,

the excitement only girls know

Covertly a few friends spoke to her,

kept her abreast of the daily functions
Afraid of the group’s wrath,

they drew no attention to themselves
An honor roll student,

she considered quitting school,

as her passion waned
Everyday, she stoically faced the girls,

walking by,

conquering rejection

She drew new friends to her,

kept the true ones,

forged on through the mire of jealousy
Spurned for their male allure,

attractive girls of sixteen and seventeen;

are often avoided by their rivalries
girls with internal and external beauty,

pushed off their pedestal, subjected to shame

Mothers with daughters shared similar stories,

consoling my maternal worries
My resilient daughter

braved the few months of discomfort;

still, she said not a word

Courageously, old friends, included her along

but it was never quite the same
While males distracted her,

the others trickled back into her life

She had a New Years Eve gathering;

a semblance of normal was present
Three boys were in pursuit,

she chose one,

slowly a new friendship escalated
Into to a beautiful love story

still present today

and flourishing.

The following summer,

Kyle bravely told the world,

that he was gay
Flamboyantly he flaunts his orientation,

and his boyfriends
Pepper has a fondness for this creative soul,

she runs into him regularly,

and they chat
I often wonder if he knows

what she sacrificed,

just because she didn’t tell!

Sad about Susie

Sad About Susie

Where ever did you go?
We can not really tell
Where ever you are now
We’re sure you must be well
For all you suffered
In days gone by
We wish you well
And will not cry
For tears were shed
While you were here
For all your pain
And all your fear
Although you couldn’t
Speak with us
You bravely smiled
And made no fuss
We wanted to be there for you
So you would know we cared
Although the days were often long
Special things were shared
We sang for you, and laughed too
We watched you as you slept
We tried to be of comfort
We hugged you when you wept
And even though we did these things
It didn’t seem enough
Watching as you suffered on
At time it was so tough
We brought you special foods to eat
Sometimes you wanted none
But we knew you loved us
For all the things we’d done
Days went fast and days went slow
And we denied
That you would go
But in the end as you sicker
We hoped and prayed
You’d go much quicker
And yet our hearts
Could not let go
The endless waiting
When we didn’t know
We knew we’d miss you
We knew we’d cry
And yet we could not say good-bye
We knew we’d miss you,
When you were gone
But in our hearts
You still live on
Your thoughtful ways
Your heart of gold
Are things that can't
Go untold
Your friendly way
Your idle chatter
At times a fault
It didn’t matter
This was you,
The way you were
And you were loved
That’s for sure
Short and feisty
Full of fight
Humanitarian
Was your true plight
You loved the birds
To watch them feed
Or grab a book
And sit and read
Your life was full
Of many things
Simple pleasures
Not diamond rings
You danced and golfed
superbly cooked
Play games and sewed
on gambling were hooked
For all who loved you
And all who cared
For all this sorrow
We were not prepared
Time after time
I’ve tried to write
An end to this poem
That would sound just right
But to my demise
There is no end
I’m just waiting
For my heart to mend

This piece was written for my mother Susan, who died August 4th, 1991 after a brave battle with cancer. She is deeply missed by friends, family, and relatives. Her memory lives on, every passing day. Where ever you are mom, we love you and hope things are better for you now!
Written with love and sadness by your daughter in the summer of 1991

Ten Years ago Today!

Ten years ago Today

An ugly intimidation, a scary situation
He came at me wielding a hose
Eyes of fire a stranger now
He was a man I didn’t know
Anger and oblivion to what may transpire
He forced his way at me, screaming words of ire
I begged and pleaded for reprieve, which he refused to heed
He continued to threaten and berate, refusing to concede
He held my head to the nozzle, its pressure full and strong
I thought that he may drown me, and the terror carried on
I tried to shift his legs, so I could escape and run
He avoided my fateful tries, I was sure that he had won
My brain was rushing in survival mode, calculating what to do
Not a violent thought within, I was afraid of what might ensue
The harder that I struggled, the meaner the man became
With no choice I kneed him, I was sure he’d become insane
He dropped the hose and pummeled me, then kicked me in the gut
A primal scream evoked, as I fell to the aggregate
Anguish that I’d never known, as a switch clicked in my head
Finale to those hopes and dreams, with the marriage finally dead
He turned and walked into the house and made a can of soup
Left me soaked from head to toe, unable to regroup
Neighbors rallied to rescue me, in my humiliated state
Disoriented from the blows, fumbling open the locked gate
Police came in droves and took charge of my life
No longer his victim, I refused to be his wife
More embittered than before, he harassed us for years to come
Manic in his attitude, more court dates to succumb
Ten years past, ten years gone, it seems like yesterday
The way my life's evolved since then, I’d have no other way
Solace fills my heart now, and not a day did I regret
Never missed him for a second, but I’ll not forget!

Sherrie Leesa

This was only the start of an extremely difficult year of court battles and harassment. Fortunately my child did not witness this incident; however she has witnessed many other types of abuse. She was the biggest victim in the whole situation. Over the years he finally settled down. I think it’s possible he was forced to get help. Although I have nothing to do with the man, she still falls prey to his dramas and narcissistic attitude. It took my child time to build a bridge into a partially functioning relationship, which I assure you didn’t come without sacrifice on her part. Now as an adult, she is less forgiving of his constant unbending attitude and insensitive ways. My biggest disappointment in life is that he wasn’t the father I thought him to be. There are so many good things about the man which I am blessed to see in my child. Unfortunately a lot of the ugliness seems to trump it all, as he continues to hurt her. My child is adamant about becoming successful and strives to overcome the adversity! It’s just sad that her dad is such a huge void in her life, not by our choice either.