Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Sybil! Prozac it's not just for breakfast anymore.

Page 50

It's not just for breakfast anymore!!
People's dreams are made out of what they do all day.   The same way a dog that runs after rabbits will dream of rabbits.   It's what you do that makes your soul, not the other way around.   Barbara Kingsolver



It was just 2 days since I slept in the ecstasy and bliss of Debra. It felt like it was all a dream, never happened. Her smell, her voice, her hands, I yearned for these things. That is an understatement. I would sacrifice for this. Everything was available for barter, everything but my children. My very breath, I would live in asphyxia if that is what it took.
The monotony of daily life kicked in as if programmed, giving a deceptive impression of stability. All around me looked the same, smelled the same, but the reality was in the corners of these rooms, fleeting across walls like tree branches reflected through windows. Creaking in the floorboards as I would change my cadence to interprit,  ringing hollow in the vaulted ceilings. An existential plane, ethereal, and elusive, taunting, begging ... sleeping waking, rising, falling, more or less, in dreams,  demanding the lovers who owned it. Until Debra broke thru this tedium, and I felt renewed in the hope of a life with her.

Heading home after our meeting on Ella and 1960, I ran into my husband, almost literally, while trying to hurry home from a rendezvous with Debra. I had left the children, safely, for an hour to do so, planning to be back before Jackie came home. Considering all that happened, his early arrival should have been expected. Something, years before, or even days before, would have been ridiculous to even desire. He came home when and if he chose.
So, now, what was I going to tell him?

Devo’s birthday was just the next day, and she loved flowers. Debra had given a dozen roses to me, and I was going to toss them, but instead, knowing Devo would love them, decided to keep them for her. In retrospect, good plan.
Jackie backed the car up in the one lane alley to let me enter the garage first. I was so nervous. Ok … that is a flimsy film of what I actually felt. I had my New Yorker in reverse and stepped on the gas almost plowing thru the fence. I could see Jackie laughing, a new, and I will say, more patient, Jackie. I smiled, wishing that for all these years, that had been the person I was married to.

I lived with ridicule, I could do nothing right. My mother was almost certain of this and every time I was in her presence, she would peer over her white milk glass coffee cup, waiting for the first chance to hit me with her barbs. Unfortunately, my father was this way as well, but not as personal. He attacked without prejudice. My brothers and sister, as well as my mother, were always scheduled for a mud racking from him.

That instrument of pain.. ridicule, verbal abuse,  my vacation from that over the last three months made me aware the behavior was unacceptable and ridicule did not mean love, like or the desire to toughen one up. No, in fact ridicule means ridicule, ridiculous, But do not be too concerned for me. I had two very adoring grandparents who made certain I had self-esteem, affection and much-needed one on one attention. They had a huge bible I loved. I would read from it as my grandmother patiently went word by word with me. Truly, I loved the pictures. They were so beautiful, something a child s not usually exposed to. This bible went across my legs and onto the floor. It was that big. I miss reading from it. My grandmother taught me how to tie my shoes and tell time.

Now, in defense of my mother, she was 15 when she got married, 16 when she had her first child. One year later, the second, and me, when she was 20. Three kids at 20. She most likely was grateful for this interception, reprieve from the hectic day to day of three very small children vying for her attention. . I know I would be. But that had been so many years ago, and now I had become used to this treatment. Until Debra.

During our 11 years of marriage, Jackie came home to a cooked dinner, the house cleaned and laundry done. And if these were not done exactly right, and even when they were, he would slam his fist down, grab his keys and go “out with the guys”. This caused concern and pain on two fronts. If it were payday, which it usually was, he would run through the money and I would be forced to call his father and ask for help. If it wasn’t on payday, I had his chemical influenced anger to deal with. On payday I had both to deal with. Let’s just say, not an ideal situation.

I grabbed the roses, quickly putting them back together and causing my skin to pierce, more blood. Fuck, wasn’t I going to get a break.

Jackie drove in while I was reassembling the mess created only minutes before while in Debra‘s clutches. He and I getting out of our cars in rhythm. He had a bouquet of flowers, roses, red in his hands. Figures. Either no one wants you or everyone wants you.

“Ummm, I see you already have your rose allotment for the day” Jackie said as he pulled off his suit jacket.
He always looked splendid. For a man. I could feel the tension, and he was cleverly trying to disguise it, not wanting to set off a certain explosion.
“Funny, are we? These are for Devo” as absolutely fucked up as that was, I did keep them for her. “Her birthday is next week”
He came over kissed me on the fore head, flowers in his right hand, his left touching my hair pinned to my head.

“OUCH!” he pulled something out of my head, literally, out of my head.
“What’s this” he held a thorn between his fingers.

My crown of thorns that came with a coupon for an eternity of having my ass kicked.





Music: Meatloaf/I would lie for you


Monday, October 3, 2011

Devil's Desire

Page 49
If you live to be a hundred,
I want to live to be a hundred minus one day
so I never have to live without you.   A. A. Milne Debra called me and told me that Anna told the entire story to her folks, my folks and probably everyone within earshot - including the guy at the drive-thru at McDonalds.

As if putting a loaded gun to my head wasn't enough.  I know, I know..she didn't shoot, but it was just as effective as if she did.

I was up against MORE than anything I could have predicted. And I felt like I was the only one bearing this responsibility.
Yet I couldn’t stop my true feelings for her.

I had traded off living in this fine home in a toni bedroom community, to live in North Shore and in rather desperate surroundings.  Anna and Debra were together in their house. As if nothing happened. And it started to feel as if it didn’t.
Until…

Debra called me again later that day, as she promised, asking me to meet her on 1960 and Ella. I wanted to go, but the playing field was leveled for Jackie and Debra, and Jackie had all the legal cards, as well as moral to play against either or both of us.

I showered, dressed in jeans and a muscle shirt, which my mother upon seeing me, would have scoffed that I was exposing my gay libido. I swept my hair up on my head.

I set the children up in the front room with snacks and the remote. Trey was old enough to stay alone with Devo, but it was not a good idea to trust in Devo surviving this short absence from her mother’s skillful referring.  I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.

I climbed in my black New Yorker , suddenly I felt a rush of shame, and panic. But the desire to see her and have her hold me weighed heavy enough for me to disallow thoughts of guilt.

I turned the car into the parking lot on Ella and there she stood, all five foot ten of her. She wore a pink long sleeve linen Polo shirt and Levis, both crisply ironed to cause a slice in one’s hand if grabbed too quickly, and  grey Jordon Ropers. She was leaning against her blue Sierra, legs crossed in the casual fashion I was used to, pulling off a cigarette, the smoke circling her temples.

She walked in a quickened pace to me as I pulled in the lot.  Before I could bring the car to a stop she had her hand on the edge of the window opening. I stopped the car almost running over her boots and jumped outt
“are you nuts….“ She opened the door and grabbed my arm in one fell swoop, and started kissing me in the busy car lot. She grabbed my arm and pulled me to the passenger side of her vehicle, holding my arm with her left hand and opening the truck door with the right.

On the seat were a dozen roses, wrapped with beautiful ribbons and a card, written with her childish scrawl, apologizing profusely, promising, and begging. At times, it was logical.   Mostly, it was hysterical. I wanted to believe her. She wanted to know about Jackie. Did he try anything? What is he going to do?

“Debra, do you understand that my family knows? Anna and Jackie’s family?”
“Yes, I know, I told her it was not right she call your mom and dad, but she wouldn’t listen”  Debra explained.
“Right now, I am not going to lay any of this on Anna, it was our doing, our responsibility It is up to us to fix it.” I explained “And how are we going to do that?”

She took my chin in her hand and kissed me softly, the only way she knew how. I fell quickly into the trap. I longed for her to make love to me, but we were under a time constraint.  In addition, really, one needs to draw the line somewhere.

But everytime she kissed me, she would hold me in her arms, her hands running softly feverishly across my back and all that is wrong in the world, is righted.

I couldn’t breath I wanted to cry but couldn’t find the tears.

Her mouth found mine, and then my neck slowly moving toward my breasts, I shivered in her embrace.   She pushed me against the warm upholstery, holding my arm over my head and reaching into my jeans with the other, the thorns from the roses causing a sort of juxtaposition of beauty and pain. My head started to pound, not in the misery of a headache, but in the confusion of person, place, thing.

I love to watch her hands.  When looking at a person’s hand, do you try to envision what those hands do? How they touch? I look at Debra’s hand and I cannot help but feel a certain yearning, as well as a desperate ache for where they are when not on my skin.

Soon her lips traced their way to the crease of my jeans , she pressed her hand against the inside of my thighs, my breath and hers as one.  And soon reality found us and I had to pull away and go back to my family.

I couldn’t bear to leave her, she cried and made certain I understood her “rules”, using those hands, those beautiful erotic weapons. They gently ran over my face and shoulders as if in reassurance that the woman mastering them was sincere.
I left, carrying the flowers knowing I could not bring them into the house since Jackie was going to be home in an hour. And with Trey watching his sister, I could not leave them for long. As I said, Trey used every opportunity he could to torture his sister.

I came to the realization this thing is the feces when shame eats too much stupidity, but If a man has a right to find God in his own way; he has the right to go to the devil in his own way. …

I pulled into the driveway and met Jackie almost head-on.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

You can't be Gay

Page 48

I dressed you up as a CHILD!
At nine the following morning I was awakened by a call from my mother.
“Dianne, your sister in law called me” she started “I am sure you know why”

She waited for my response, but I was exhausted emotionally. This did not deter her. She felt I needed help, No, not help, but threats. She had told Jackie to have me committed.
 “What are you talking about mom?” My voice was devoid of emotion.
“Dianne, you can’t be Gay, I dressed you up as a child”.
Two millennia of an evolving humanity and that’s the best you could come up with?
"And my lover so appreciates that mom" I wanted to say. 
But if I did, my mother would certainly catch the first plane to Texas to slap me.  Even if it meant hiring a private aircraft.  And that was the common sense that was my mother. I would soon find out my father-in-law had the same distorted conception of the issue.
An hour or so later, I hung up the phone, hardly remembering one word as I stared at the ceiling for hours at a time. There were no cell phones, phone communication was not private and one was constrained by location. But still, where was Debra? Later that morning the phone rang.
“Dianne?” Finally, it was Debra. I’d been crying.I choked back tears as I listened.
She told me of the previous night,  the surprise Cynthia and Sabrina laid on Anna.
She told me that she needed to be with me.
She questioned Jackie’s every move.
She was divided.
“Dianne, I promise you, this is going to be over and we can be together.”
Like a pusher, she had me hooked. My entire life, never had I been treated like I was worth anything. I soon started to believe I was not. From a small child, as far back as I could remember, same old tune.
Giving up, giving out, giving in or getting down.  It was all the same. I was persecuted by my brothers with very little interception from my folks. 
I was not an attractive child, my mother told me she was so disappointed since they wanted a girl so badly and I was such an ugly baby.  My brothers let me know in a constant mantra of “Dumbo” (for my big ears) Dumbo (for my big nose) and constant snickering at “what a big ass I had”. 
I had no reprieve from this torture. I was made great sport much the same way in school.  My brothers, only 3 and 4 years older than I paved the road so upon entering first grade,  I was set-up for certain social failure.  
There are people in this life that no matter what they do, no matter whom they hurt, they always breeze through life  on the enviable cloud nine. We, who never experience this, watch and are constantly amazed. These social monsters create situations to make their cause more popular and invalidate the most innocuous dialogue their victim engages.  Silencing their quarry at any cost..
Then there are others that strive to make everyone happy, accepting much less, finding themselves "kicked to the curb".  What they haven't done to themselves, others do to them.  You know these slighted individuals. That one person in the family everyone pokes at, laughs at. That poor pathetic soul you went to school with that just couldn’t quite keep pace.
That was me.  And I too, handed down this pillaging to others, because, as they say, someone always works for someone else, well the same goes the other way.   There will always be someone who is lower on the food chain than you.  So the  beleaguered target them just to make themself feel better.
I have discovered, in the end, insitgators of emotional torment usually spend their lives not realizing their goals and wishing things were different.
I swore my children would never be in that position. Especially my “girl child”.   She was not going to be dressed according to my standards being ridiculed for being out of place.  She was not going to be threatened on her way to and from school. She was going to be the bully. And shame on me, but that is exactly what I created. I told her she was going to be something important. Something special. 
And she is. Too important, and too special for me. I do not regret allowing her to have a wonderful high school life, because mine was not.  My child would not have her heart racing as she headed home, worrying about what was waiting for her.  She would be able to concentrate on her last class of the day, instead of being distracted by a certain inevitability. I knew once I got home from school, something would be waiting for me there as well.  My mother standing around a corner ready to slap me as I made my way to my bedroom.  Punished for trivalities that went with the times, rolling up my skirt, stuffing my bra.  She looked and found something. It took me years as an adult to not flinch from the casual hand being raised before me. When my brothers got home, the torture continued. All I had was my baby sister, 10 years my junior, that I held like my own child as I cried myself to sleep.
Of course, these are all lies. That is their response. Not an apology, not trying to make good the bad from so many years before. No, they continue to think about themselves and the only way they can convince others of their innocence in the damaging of another is to make certain no one believes that person. And continue this deplorable behavior even today.  This could all go away with that one simple gesture and we could all go on with our lives.  But the truth is so much easier because it requires no rehearsal, and is consistent in the telling through the years. The truth has witnesses.In life, I have found one thing to stay true. Liars are the first to say “liar”.  If you are the person who so many confide in, and for some reason, that has been my lot in life, you can guarantee you will have the title “liar”. Because should you decide to reveal these truths, it would not be to their advantage for you to have integrity. You may tell of their exploits with their cousin’s husband, their co-worker who is married that they slept with and was so afraid that child they were carrying was his.   These folks have long term, and in some cases, short term memory issues.  Some people believe they can save their soul from the devil , by selling yours. As if Lucifer and the Almighty will never know the difference.
"Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin. Pain reaches the heart with electrical speed, but truth moves to the heart as slowly as a  glacier."  Barbara Kingsolver You see folks, when someone says, “I never told anyone this…” Ask them “Then why are you telling me?””In Antartica, penguins wait for the spring to mate on dry land, when the ice melts. Since they are surrounded by water, they have to ride these huge waves to make it to the cliff ledges. There are thousands.  But there are only so many spots, so some of them just get tired and drown. The walruses wait below on the bottom of the rocks for this to happen so they can consume them. I am like one of those unfortunate penguins.
I can’t take one breath in the present without choking on the past.  I should take umbrage but I find resentment is taking poison and hoping the other guy dies.  If love were pure, these people would be dead.
Then fate created  Debra.
I was too accustomed to being treated like a princess. Debra had spent the last many weeks catering to my every wish. And it was lovely. I felt special. She told me I was deserving and for once, I believed it.  It showed in my demeanor and my physical self.  I had gained weight thru the years, but in the last month, I started loosing it.  Yes, I know, affairs tend to do that. But I smiled so much more, laughed so much more. Cried so much less. Until lately.She seemed to always have a solution for any of the problems we encountered. However, this time, no one could mend this. She felt Anna was going to give up on this and Debra could start her life with me.
And then the worst news...
Anna had told her family.
My heart broke all over again, for this was a disapointment I had hoped to never realize.....


Saturday, October 1, 2011

Thank GOD fro MADD

Page 47


too late

*The wedding was beautiful. All the important people attended.

Within one week of the honeymoon stage, I was in the hospital. It turned out Jim had issues with opening doors with the doorknob. He would just kick them down. He hung around with a rough group of people, who taunted him about his marriage. He was easily end astray. During the 70's, marriages often took this turn. Woman were still expected to stay home with the kids. Wives were not friends and quiet tolerance were the words of the day.

After one of his many nights of prolonged drinking and rugs, he came home at 4 am. I was on the couch, awake.

“Hoe nee, em om!” (Honey I’m home)

I would not speak to him, thus, he slammed my hand in a door - just to see if I had feelings. He broke two of my fingers.

I called my dad from the hospital. I didn’t call my mother, because, in spite of a beautiful wedding, she loathed Jim, and would have found this as an opportunity to say I told you so. And she would not have done anything other than lecture me and make me stay in that nightmare.

After telling my father of the situation, between sobs, he asked me what I did! Then he explained I was married and I needed to work on my marriage.
Four months later, I was pregnant. I gave birth to a beautiful son, and I finally experienced love*. I did not leave him with anyone until he was 6 months old, and then, only my mother.

The following four years I experienced a broken arm, several concussions, and my nose broken twice. I had two plastic surgeries.

It wasn’t like it is now. The police didn’t respond to domestic arguments with the attitude of saving someone, but to break up the fight.

He never once harmed my son. He actually was a wonderful father, when he wasn’t being violent with me.

After four years, I was through.

I had met another young man when I worked at the Sears Tower. Actually, I had heard about him from friends of Jim and me. They carried on about him constantly. His name was William Jack and everyone called him Billy Jack. Hokey since the movie had just come out. I had heard how gorgeous he was, gentle, and smart, friendly.

One evening after I came home from work, there was a knock on the door. It was him. He was looking for Jim to make a purchase. And yes, he was a sight to behold. Italian, dark skinned, full head of hair down covering the collar of his shirt. He was muscled with a lean build. He had an enchanting smile, full lips, lips my daughter would inherit. (After she was born, the doctor said we were going to need her lipstick to come in “deodorant stick” style to cover them)

Jim wasn’t home and I was busy feeding my child and changing clothes.

I had run a bath and was looking forward to a long hot soak once Jim came home to take care of the parenting. Billy Jack, who was called Jackie by his family, offered to watch my child. I took him up on the offer and went to enjoy my bath.

I could hear Jim come in, and he and Jackie laughing and carrying on. He then left.

A week later, at work, I ran into him in the Dinghy Pub, the drinking establishment on the main floor of the tower.
Jim and I had separated. Jackie and I started dating.
*There is so much that happened during these years and I can only encapsulate it for the desire to move back to the story at hand.
I divorced my first husband and married Jackie.

The family life with his Italian folks was wonderful and would take an entire book onto itself just to bring you close to the fun.

But Jackie was a drug addict. And he drank. And if it was possible, he was worse than Jim. He was emotionally abusive, telling me at every turn how ignorant I was. He would drink and drive and no one cared. More than once his father would have to come and bring us home after he would total a car. There was no MADD. And again, the police were of no help.
I became close to Anna and she tried to protect me at all costs, but she was a child herself.
One night he went out on a binge. I was 6 months pregnant at the time and constantly sick. Morning sickness 24 hours a day.

I had just finished the nursery. I painted a solar mural and we had finally had the crib put together. He came home after 3 am; he pulled me out of a sound sleep and punched me in the face. I cannot explain the insult of being taken from a dream state to face this level of anger. I sat crying in the front room, he went in the nursery and tore it up.

This went on for 8 years. Until we moved to Texas. He straightened up a bit, though he would not stop the drinking. And he took any drug someone handed him.

In 2010, he hit and killed three people in Corsicana Texas.
They were on a charity motorcycle run. A father, his daughter who was a teacher and another person. person. David Coley, Leslie McCluney and Terry Nelson are gone.

A week after, he drove his vehicle yet again, across two lanes of traffic and did not hurt anyone, but turned his vehicle over. Both times, he was under the influence. Here is what will be hard for you my audience to understand. The police did not take his license away the first time!He is now in Huntsville serving a life sentence.


He was a valuable engineer for NASA. Brilliant in a way that cannot be told. He was far from an idiot,he was a genius, which is about as far as you could go without reaching madness. I can’t help but think if someone had done something 30 years ago, would these people be alive?


Fade in

Fade out


After arriving home to Debra and Anna’s, a gun was put to my head, and withdrawn out of some misguided compassion. I was forced to leave, and I needed a place to go.


“Jackie, I have something to tell you, but first, I need you to come and get me”
I am pretty sure he didn’t even hang up the phone, as he was there instantly. We went back to our house in Champions. He had the kids already, and they were so happy to see me. It was four in the morning, but he brought them with to pick me up. I cried as I told him the story. He felt this was just a little misguided trip on my part and after all, it wasn’t really cheating since I had been with a woman.
WHAT!He had no idea. You do not want you wife to fall in love with a woman. Especially if you have been a tyrant during the greater part of the marriage.

I climbed into bed, holding Debra’s shirt and cried myself to sleep. When I woke the following morning and recognized where I was, I fell back into a tearful state. I was no good as a mother, as a person. I wanted to be with Debra. I wanted her and I to live as a family, raising our children.
Jackie left for work; the kids fell back into their usual routine

At nine the following morning I was awakened to a call from my mother.


*The events that occured during this stage are covered in their entirety in the book