Wednesday, January 11, 2012

The Rules

Page 71

Part II of "The Reason"

1. You can never say “You’re the One” or YTO
Meaning you can never say “You’re the one that wanted…” This included “I am not the one” and “It wasn’t me..”


2. Don’t sweat the small stuff
Meaning ALL OF IT. If Devo’s room is messy (made her nuts) If Billy ran up the phone bill (Also made her nuts), if someone left something laying around like a dryer sheet or piece of clothing, or a car ...


3. You only have 24 hours to register your complaint.
Meaning, if you have an issue that’s pissing you off, better get it out immediately because at the 25th hour if you say “Ok, this is what I am pissed about …” too bad, so sad. Closed for discussion. You wonder how does one know if the other is angry. That’s just a given. If you truly love each other, you should know when the other is pre-occupied. And most issues, you can date stamp them. If you were to spend money on something the other doesn’t like, you would know when over 24 hours had passed…correct?

4. Never lie, you cannot unscramble eggs.
I lived by this and made Willie crazy because I would admit the absolute most “lie”able occurences.
It’s just easier. The truth needs so little rehearsal. Willie did not embrace that.


5. You never air your dirty laundry.


I had no problem obeying this rule. Willie on the other hand? This will develop in the story line later on.
These rules were the foundation of our relationship and I have no doubt this was the structure that kept us together for so many years.


Two am came again and my heart was lifted. Higher and higher every time I saw her. Most times I would be asleep, try as I may, it was difficult to stay awake. I needed those hours of sleep.. I cherish the memories waking and finding her lying next to me, her head perched on her right fist. I would pull out of a deep slumber, my eyes peeking out from a dream to see her watching me.


"I want to show you that love should not hurt" Willie whispered, while shadows from the trees outside crawled into the far recesses of our bedroom, lit by nothing stronger than the moon.


I knew it was forever. How could it be any less? She was truly special. Willie was everything and anything I could want. She was gentle spirited, a wonderful lover. She knew how to talk, and we would for hours. Willie was a wonderful lover, even though she said it was me that made it so. That is untrue. I believe the souls of two people in love creates the ground work.

A true lover always feels in debt to the one he loves. Ralph W. Sockman


I always had her dinner prepared and waiting with all the accoutrements she desired. She would eat while we talked and watched TV, but I needed to sleep in order to be 100% for my work. I was now an Electrical Designer as well as AutoCAD Manager, IT person and computer programmer. Willie would watch TV for another couple of hours, which was not conducive to a full nights sleep, but I felt since she worked an undesirable shift, and she worked hard, I could make that one small sacrifice. I will admit, there were times I questioned her lack of respect for my work ethic. I made almost twice as much as she did. When I worked contract, it was three and sometimes four times her salary. Willie was getting spoiled.

I would come home at 5:30 and find that she did nothing after she woke in the morning. And she left dishes in the sink, a full ashtray of cigarette butts and clothing cast willie-nillie around the bedroom. I ignored it. When I would say something she would get uber defensive and it just wasn’t worth compromising our relationship (rule 2). However, there came a situation that both perplexed and irritated me. After many conversations where I would carefully brooch the subject of her maybe doing a little more than she had, she finally agreed. To clean up her own mess. After this agreement, I came home that evening and yes she picked up her own mess, but my end table still held the glass I had put there the night before. Now, yes, we agreed on her cleaning her mess, but, common courtesy, and the need for a positive home life should have dictated, “maybe I should take this glass in the kitchen for her.”


We had a beautifully decorated home with all the treasures I had collected over 20+ years. I did all the groundwork for a pleasant home life. The dishes, laundry, floors, toilets, polishing the wood. Willie would help on occasion. Not often. Willie said she resented having to clean up after me. Yes, that’s what she said. That was her excuse for not taking one single, solitary glass from the bedroom, where she was going to be anyhow, to the kitchen she was going to anyway.
That should have been my first clue she was not vested in this relationship as much as I was.


This is my first and foremost flaw. I give 100% of myself. I will jump through hoops to make a relationship work. I do everything their way. I make their lives perfect. They lack for nothing. And I do not expect anything above and beyond certain courtesies. It isn’t my sexual prowess, or my external offerings that make my relationships so passionate, it is my servitude. If you think men are advantageous of submissive women, try living with a woman. They are ten times worse.
I realized from that confession forward, things were lopsided. But I chose to ignore it.


Ignore…Ignorance.. That disregard of a glass did to a greater extent, considerable damage


Sigh. When will it be as I imagined? These were the times I missed Debra the most. In spite of everything that happened, I yearned for her idealization. She never would have said such a thing. It would never have been brought up to begin with, because, it would never have happened.


But Debra was gone and Willie was here. To stay.

To be continued

Music: Jethro Tull/ Reason for Waiting
Some of the names and characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an acount of actual events.  For the few who have given me permission, I thank you.   © Truth has witnesses ©DSL
©   This material is the copyright of  Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author.    All rights reserved

The Reason


Page 71 

For Waiting

Mom and Marnie quickly left Spring Texas. But not without leaving their trademark oppression.
Willie and I did not miss a beat. We and I were in the honeymoon stages of our relationship. Marnie and Mae were quickly forgotten in the din of 2am lovemaking, me rushing to work in the earlier morning hours and Willie in the early afternoon.
I would return home to Devo and Billy, cook their meals, review the events of the day and see Devo off to bed, Billy off to his “gigs”. This may be the reason things worked out so well between Willie and the children. She barely ever saw them.
I would then prepare something special for Willie. This was a difficult task. As I said before, Willie came from a family where gravy is a beverage. But I did what I could in spite of the constraints. I followed with a long bath and dressing in one of the gowns Willie (or Crawford) had purchased, watch a little TV and then go to sleep. Occasionally I brought work home with me and spent the evening “marking up“ drawings. Overtime pay. Willie worked the 3 to 11 shift in the operating rooms of The Methodist hospital. There were incidents where she would run late and hit the roof. It was up to me to change her thinking.
“Willie, you need to be on the other end of all of this” I referred back to my experience waiting to see if my father lived or died after his lung transplant.
“All you can think of is, I am going to have to stay late.” I explained “There are family members who are in emotional pain, waiting for the outcome. If the best happens, it is still going to be difficult, if the worst happens, well, I don’t need to explain, do I?”
“You are their only connection to the outcome” I continued.
She seemed to understand yet no one can really know. This was Rule 2.
Willie and I implemented a set of rules and we stuck by these rules rigidly:
1. You can never say “You’re the One” or YTO
Meaning you can never say “You’re the one that wanted…” This included “I am not the one” and “It wasn’t me..”
2. Don’t sweat the small stuff
Meaning ALL OF IT. If Devo’s room is messy (made her nuts) If Billy ran up the phone bill (Also made her nuts), if someone left something laying around like a dryer sheet or piece of clothing, or a car ...
3. You only have 24 hours to register your complaint.
Meaning, if you have an issue that’s pissing you off, better get it out immediately because at the 25th hour if you say “Ok, this is what I am pissed about …” too bad, so sad. Closed for discussion. You wonder how does one know if the other is angry. That’s just a given. If you truly love each other, you should know when the other is pre-occupied. And most issues, you can date stamp them. If you were to spend money on something the other doesn’t like, you would know when over 24 hours had passed…correct?
4. Never lie, you cannot unscramble eggs.
I lived by this and made Willie crazy because I would admit the absolute most “lie”able occurences.
It’s just easier. The truth needs so little rehearsal. Willie did not embrace that.
5. You never air your dirty laundry.
I had no problem obeying this rule. Willie on the other hand? This will develop in the story line later on.

Monday, January 9, 2012

The Justified


Page 70

By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience Confucius


AND the Ancient

Pretty much summarizes Marnie and Mae.

The sound of a quiet night in Chicago whispered through the windows in the kitchen at 4127 North Paulina Street. I was sitting at the kitchen table. I had been on the phone when he got home. I quickly hung up and then picked it up and redialed the number. To the radio station giving out tickets to a summer series at Wrigley Field. I thought it would be a fantastic gift for Jim and so I dialed and I mean DIALED, no push button phones then. MOREOVER, I WON.
Before I could tell him, he was standing at the door with the shotgun. He aimed it at me and shot.

Everything turned black.


He shot out the light and blew a 12” dinner plate size hole in the ceiling. I had fallen to the floor. The gun was so old, and not cleaned, it bucked back, hitting him in the head and firing at the ceiling, blowing out the light and sucking oxygen out of the room.


The police came quickly taking the gun and creating an even worse situation.
It was 1972. Laws did not protect women. It was worse than you could imagine. The police often sided with the man, working to promote that ideal, they would gather up as much BS as they could to fabricate a story that would make any judge guffaw at the wife.


We were hippies. I always had an elegant house, hippie style. Even in the movements of the late 60’s early 70’s.
In the back room I had my great grandmother’s cedar chest. On top of it was a beautiful Egyptian tapestry. My son still has it today. It is so beautiful. Silk gold, burgundy, browns deep blues. It had the kind of art you would see in pyramids. On top of that was Jim’s Hookah. That is a pipe with several hoses so two or more people can smoke at once. Next to that was a pewter Goblet we got as a wedding present. I still have it. And to the immediate left was a green crystal wine jug. This jug had a hand blown bowl in the side to put ice. And it had a decorative cork in the same colors as the tapestry. Inside was some red wine. I didn’t drink. I was breastfeeding. And frankly, I didn’t have much alcohol experience. I was 19 years old. The wine was Jim’s; he put it in the hookah instead of water.


The police decided I had a Satanic Alter. YES! I was in the convent, I was/am terrified of going to hell, after all, and I do need a break at some time.
 
 
When I called home and talked to my father, he insisted I stay and work this out. Can you imagine today? Jim was NOT put in jail. He wasn’t even fined. If that gun would have found a path to it original target, I would not be here. I often wonder, if I had died, do you think the police would have arrested him? It’s iffy.
Jim promptly followed up a call to my folks.


“She was on the phone talking to someone, the minute I walked in the door she hung up the phone and called someone else so I wouldn’t be suspicious.” Jim cowered “and she is worshipping Satan“


I just sat there numb. There are really no words. I won’t try. But I did feel that perhaps they would take into consideration, our child was to be baptized in the next two weeks, I was a fervent Catholic, and really, what does all that have to do with anything anyhow? He tried to blow my brains out! Anything I could have been doing is pretty much cancelled out by attempted murder. In other words, if I was a Satanist, and again, I AM NOT, what the hell would that have to do with anything anyhow?


Jim also worked for “The Machine”. He was a Daley boy. He worked for the city and did campaigning for the Mayor. That is the reason the case was never submitted to the courts. They slapped him on the hand and took away his gun.


The next morning the courier delivered the tickets to our door and Jim humbly apologized. My family? Never said a word again until my mother thought it would be an entertaining history to give to y son, and then my daughter.


I often wonder. What if I had died? Would that have brought some sort of regret by all concerned? History dictates, probably not.


On the other hand, Barbara, my mother-in-law was livid with him. She told my family it was nonsense about the “alter”. AND she was angry with them that they condoned her son’s actions. Well, not exactly condone, but they weren’t exactly against it. I have always felt that some of the members in my family secretly wished I would be done in. When my brother died I am certain they wished it had been me. When others have died, again, I knew they wished it were me. They never seemed to work against it. They never discouraged my husbands. And when this horrific incident occurred that set me on this journey to write my book, again, every one involved knew it was precarious and that I might certainly do myself in. They did NOTHING to stop it.

Nothing to help me survive this horrible personal holocaust. I don't have to look up my family tree, because I know that I'm the sap.


My mother actually told my son and daughter about this incident and that I was a Devil Worshiper. She is so proud. Bragging like that to everyone. Aw shucks.


She felt justified.   She was the mother, the "ancient".   So here we are 15 years later and she didn't miss a step.


Let us get back to Houston’s restaurant and the outcome.


Jerry felt my mother was rude. Maybe because she was rude. And not quite in step with the rest of the population. Salinger said Mothers are all slightly insane.


Jerry said he would come after work. But he had a mouthful to deliver to Marnie and Mae, and I wasn’t ready for that. I loved Jerry; I knew an altercation might do just that. Alter my relationship with him. Willie finally showed and we went to a local club for the ladies of the community. Once I calmed down I called my father. He went ballistic. He made it clear they were not to come. He knew all along they were up to something and he had it with them. But he was powerless to do anything. Bless his heart; can you imagine living with these women?


But there still is that question lurking about. Why? Why did they come? They couldn’t have been that hard up for someone to harangue. There was a substantial amount of Kenoshans that would pay to spend one hour behind closed doors with one or both of them. My father said they were scheming. Why? He was clueless.
The phone call calmed me down. I no longer felt like I was loosing my mind.

“Dianne, you understand, when I die, it is going to be worse.” my dad explained.
I thought how could it be worse? But it could…and it would.
My father had it out with my mom. Unfortunately my dad always played Marnie and me against each other. My weight, my work ethic, my sense of humor. It was not fair to either one of us, but most assuredly Marnie. She would always say I am never going to find someone, I am not like you Dianne, and everyone is attracted to you. Any girl can be glamorous. All you have to do is stand still and look stupid. But there is more to a person than that. Albeit, people fall in love with beauty and greatness, so no one will love a waitress too long
But still dad was very hateful to my sister. She acted as if she never cared what he said or asked of her.
She treated my father as if he were nonexistent. I had gained weight, but Marnie was still always heavier.
(I always thought these people were supposed to be jolly.) She tried everything, and I know, I saw the various concoctions in her medicine cabinet next to the monkey blood.


But, I love my sister whether she is incapable of loving me or not.
I knew the two of them had charted this course and had it filed for future reference. The two of them will say “don’t live in the past” when they do not want to be accountable. In order for them to be successful in their bullying, they need the past. Embellished with their derision of the actuality. The odd thing is … my sister claims to have no memories of the past. But this is only an issue when someone wants to confront her about such issues. She makes great issue of this fact.


“I have no memory of my childhood” She conveniently states.


Yet she has a firm grasp of mine. You cannot embrace the present without reconciling the past. My history is filled with good as well as bad and I will dig a hole and sit in the middle of my past like some sort of village idiot. The good is comforting; the bad for learning.


And on the positive side; As long as they were torturing me, everyone else was still safe.
Soooo..Marnie and Mae quickly left Spring Texas, heading back to MooMoo Land (Wisconsin).  But not before letting me know that this situation would be in the forefront next time we met..... scared... not. I should have known Marnie and Mae weren’t the only folks setting this on a shelf until a later date. Willie was doing the same. Cards had been dealt and everyone was holding them close to the vest, less I notice.


They left. Willie and I did not miss a beat. Willie and I were in the throws of our relationship. Marnie and Mae were quickly forgotten in the din of 2am lovemaking, rushing to work and returning home settling into the comfort of family.


To be continued




Music:KLF and Tamy Wynette/Justified and ancient 

Some of the names and characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an acount of actual events.  For the few who have given me permission, I thank you.   © Truth has witnesses ©DSL

©   This material is the copyright of  Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author.    All rights reserved
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Saturday, January 7, 2012

Poor Little Rich Girl

Page 69


The Music of “If It Seems Too Good To Be True” on YOUTUBE




August 1996
My new love,  Willie, moved into my home and blended into the fabric of her new family very quickly.
And then my mother and sister had dropped in unexpectedly.

From Kenosha.  Fifteen HUNDRED miles away. After my father told them specifically not to.

I cannot recall exactly what happened, but there is something that haunts me about that trip. Did I sign some papers? Why did they come?

I must first clarify, I did not grow up lacking. It was not an exceedingly wealthy family, but I found out when I was 5 and spending more time with the general population because of school, I had more than most. There were 5 children in the family ad we ALL went to private schools. It could be because my great grandfather, then grandfather and finally father provided construction for St. Mary's and then St. Mark's churches. The Monsignor from St. Marks, Msgr. Aldstat, came to my grandparents for Martini's and dinner once a month. The church officiate who I dined with since I was a small child, when I had a night at grandma and grandpa's, officiated at my marriage to my first husband, Jim and baptized my daughter.

As a child and young adult, I recognized my family had a standing in the city of Kenosha. You could barely walk a block on the sidewalks without stepping on the impression "George Schuch and Son's". I knew as I reached young adulthood that I probably was not going to recognize that wealth once I was on my own, and I prepared myself for it. Other's in the family ... not so much.

I am not going to tell you I didn't appreciate and enjoy it because that would be a lie. At the same time, I knew nothing else. I always felt my sister Marnie would be the better of all of us because she grew up in a different time than I.

My parent's had divorced, my mother took an apartment in Library Park and started to work for a family friend at the local Life Insurance agency. With her 9th grade education my mother thrived. Eventually she was the top Salesperson getting several awards. Ultimately she had her own general agency. She did pretty well.

My father stayed with his new wife for 3 years and then one day he got up and left. I will never forget the day Jim walked in ahead of me and my father was sitting at my mom's kitchen table. He immediately turned around shooing me out the door to leave.
"Your dad is in there, let's go"

You see my mother and father could not spend two seconds alone without blowing up. Jim knew this was a bad situation for me since I was still freshly scarred by the divorce. But it turned out after 7 years of divorce and his remarriage, he just decided my mom was a safer bet.

Marnie had spent her formative years living with my mom and little brother in that apartment. She should have had a tighter fist, but it is not the case. After my dad and mom's retirement, they had to start watching their pockets. But it seems Marnie would not or could not recognize this was the time she needed to rely on them less.

She lived like she didn't have a financial care in the world. And my mother cannot say no to her. They are not living like they used to and since my father died, Marnie has lived with my mom. She complains to everyone, but if we offer to help she rejects the offer. The money has all but run out. I have no idea what she will do when it's gone. I do not like to think about it. But I am jumping ahead f the story.

By this time, when they came to visit, my sister was still with her husband and living in Kenosha sucking the life out of my mom’s checking account.

August 1996;

My mother absolutely abhorred my lifestyle, looking for every opportunity to assign blame. So why would they come to visit? No, this wasn’t a simple “just wanted to drop and see how you’re doing”.

Marnie and mother wanted me to go to Houston’s restaurant with them. They did NOT want Willie to come. Rude and conniving, and I fell face first into the mire. Willie was concerned, but fell victim to that old adage, they are family, they have things to discuss, nothing to worry about. Anna had told Willie not to allow my family alone time with me. So, I do have a curiosity about why Willie then allowed it.

My sister’s two boys were fighting. They fought ALL the time. They were boys. But Willie said they were building prisons for them as we spoke. I resented that. I didn’t feel Willie had the right to make that kind of blanket statement so early in our relationship. She said it often. She liked the way it sounded, she thought she was quite clever.

But these boys fought rough, much in the fashion of my brothers. The oldest was getting the worst of it from his brother and mother. So I gave the younger “A look!” That did it. All hell broke loose. Now, let me remind you, my sister takes my children to task all the time. That is how it should be, but Marnie, no she didn’t allow role reversal’s. In reality, it was a setup. I wouldn’t doubt if she paid the kids off.

But we all know, don’t we, something was bound to happen. And their demeanor had changed once they got me in the car and out of the subdivision. This was a sporting event. I could feel the electricity in the air immediately after they got far enough away from Willie, my home and anywhere I could be dropped off comfortably.

They started and just would not stop. Like a tire fire, it just rolled and smoked and burned and smelled bad. Any and every indiscretion I have ever been involved was brought up. They had it down pat, I have to give it to them. Like when you memorize all the prayers in Latin as a child. The words just spill out with no rhyme or reason. I knew the two of them had charted this course and had it filed for future reference. Marnie will say “don’t live in the past” when she does not want to be accountable. In order for them to be successful in their bullying, they need the past. Embellished with their derision of the actuality. The odd thing is … my sister claims to have no memories of the past. But this is only an issue when someone wants to confront her about such issues. She makes great issue of this fact. It’s amazing how much of my life history she recalls.

“I have no memory of my childhood” That’s her cop-out. And everyone lets her go. Lame.

Which is always. You cannot embrace the present without reconciling the past. My history is filled with good as well as bad and I will dig a hole and sit in the middle of my past like some sort of village idiot. The good is comforting; the bad for learning.

I pretty much cried through lunch. That is my only ammunition, otherwise, if I were to engage in conversation regarding whatever truths of the moment they are enjoying, I would loose my mind. Far easier to cry. I can do a lot while crying. I can make grocery lists, develop software programming, picture a painting I wish to draw…that sort of thing. If I were to engage them, it would get so out of control no one would survive. It’s just safer to cry and ignore.

On the positive; As long as they were torturing me, everyone else was still safe.

I never knew the basis for their argument(s). I need to get them posted on Wikipedia so I can have the sentences and paragraphs divided with definitions. Yes. That would work. Is it hard to get on Wikipedia?
Finally I left the restaurant. My daughter was witnessing this. Eventually she will recognize this as bad and will not revisit the scene on her own. She has sense to see what is wrong and what is right. That is called parenting skills. Mine may not be great, but my children survived. And in my family, that’s a big advantage. I was wrong about my daughter.

I sat outside in the 100+ heat. They left out another door and deserted me. Isn’t that special? Yes, they left me, almost 100 miles from my home, no purse, no money, no way to get home.

I had my new cell though! I called Wendy first. She was all too anxious to come and get me. I came to my senses, called Willie. You see I did not want Willie to know what happened. My sister and Mother have a knack for making me feel perpetually guilty.

But then I called Jerry, who loathes my mother, in ten different ways ... Or more.
Jerry had met up with the two, Marnie and Mae the night prior to them deserting me outside Houston’s. He had several issues, one being my mother’s absolute disrespect for me as a mother, speaking to me in such an uncouth manner in front of my child. And the things Devo told him my mother told her about me. Fabrications that I have no idea where they came from.

Furthermore, I do not understand how a mother can talk badly about a their own child to others. Isn’t it just the other way around? Aren’t mothers to bore people to tears with the lauding of their offspring? That’s what I did.
Jerry scoffed at the many fabrications they painted.

One incident when I was 19, a new mom, married to Jim.

After we married, I noticed a shotgun in the back room of our attic apartment. I asked Jim about it. He said it was old and unusable.

A night after a drunken party at the Bluebird Tavern he decided I was cheating on him. I had no car, couldn’t drive, a new infant I refused to leave alone with anyone. I was breastfeeding. Not a big come on for potential paramours. But this was a bi-weekly tirade of his. And he was half or so, native American. Booze never treated him the same as the rest of us. Of course, I justify.

I was sitting at the kitchen table. I had been on the phone when he got home. I quickly hung up and then picked it up and redialed the number. To the radio station giving out tickets to a summer series at Wrigley Field. I thought it would be a fantastic gift for Jim and so I dialed and I mean DIALED, no push button phones then. AND I WON.

Before I could tell him, he was standing at the door with the shotgun.
He aimed it at me and shot.

To be continued



Music: Renaissance/Midas Man

Some of the names and characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an acount of actual events.  For the few who have given me permission, I thank you.   © Truth has witnesses ©DSL

©   This material is the copyright of  Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author.    All rights reserved




Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Mad World ... Page 68

I find it kind of funny.
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying
Are the best I’ve ever had


I can imagine that you, my respected followers, think that this is a story of my self entitlement. No, it is not even close.
I spent my early days catching my mother’s wrath as soon as my brothers went to school. I was about 3 when I call to mind having migraines. I can recall pulling on the phone cord in our kitchen when my mother was talking to someone and pointing at my head saying ”hurt, hurt”. When she wasn’t on perpetual talk mode with her BFF across the street, she was helping me clean my room. You see, I did not know that other children did not experience this. I felt if my mother said something was messy, and then it was. Her idea of cleaning a room was to pull my drawers out and throw them across the room, never seeing if I was part of the patriot missile target she was delivering. She would pour EVERYTHING on the floor. Open a drawer, spill it over and go to the next drawer. If she was especially taken aback by a sock not being matched, she would make me pull down my pants and beat me. That was legal, and even encouraged at the time. I cannot even imagine doing that to my child. I have probably hit each of my children once. My oldest, not at all. The middle child for stealing. And I truly regretted it, even if it was warranted. My youngest, for smarting off. Also regrettable. And they hate me for that. Can you imagine if I would have beat them with a belt? Ugh.


My father was always concerned – about the furniture, that is. Combined with the stripes on my backside. The furniture especially because he hated to have to order new and fixing the existing would not stand the pummeling of my mom.
He confronted her. Once. Guess who got the fury of that?

She went as far as to say I tattled on her. So the result was almost unbearable.

I grew up into a very insecure fearful child. I can never do anything to please my mother.

My sister was born when I was 10. I was thrilled. I immediately brought her to bed with me. She never spent a day in her crib. I never woke my mother for her night time feeding. I did it myself. And she was perpetually at my side. I took her wherever I went except school and overnights at other’s houses. She would scream bloody murder when that happened.

This was a tough time for my mother, my father was cheating on her. She was scared. She had nothing more than a 9th grade education. He met her in Biloxi and married her when she was 15. Her friendship base were my father’s. You can envision her fright.

But my friends were beginning to exclude me from events where I would bring Marnie. (I know it affected my friends. Facebook has opened my childhood up to reunion. Once, Mary M. said that she could not believe that my sister and I aren’t close since I had her with me always. She felt bad about excluding me, but she said the others begged her).  My mother did not care. I talked to her, but she said family was important. I was 12. This wasn’t a situation where I was choosing. I just wanted to be a kid once in a while myself. So I did the next worse things. Again, I spoke with my father.
The results? The same.

I gave up.
When I was 16 and moving out of the house, my mother had my sister sitting in a chair crying.

“See! What are you going to do - leave your sister?”

Excuse me, but I am 16 and not the child’s mother.

I did everything for my sister through the years. When she had difficulty at 17 in the home, my father and mother called in the middle of the night and my husband drove the 60 miles to Kenosha and brought her to our home. I got her through school, ignored some obvious indiscretions. She was with us almost a year. When she went to work in the summer at Marriott’s Great America, my husband would go at 3am to pick her up. And of course they took their time getting home. It hurt, but I refused to confront it. My marriage would be over and I would be the bad guy. I could have problems with the devil himself and my mother would side with the devil.

10 years later she moved in with my husband and I when we bought our new house. We had not moved in yet and there she was. So we didn’t have that wonderful self contained family celebration, because frankly, she was there. She stayed for a couple of years. Inviting her friends at will, which, for the most part, I love her friends, but sometimes I felt like I was being taken advantage.

Then she moved her soon to be ex-husband in, and he DID take advantage.

Then she bought a dog who immediately chewed up my brand new, not even a week old, queen ann table. And again, she turned it on me, my fault.

Then she moved, but we stayed in touch. She asked to meet me to discuss a problem. She was pregnant. She did not want to marry Hank, she didn’t love him. Would I please call mom and tell her no wedding.
I did.

Marnie lied and said she said no such thing. My father believed me, but was helpless against my mother and her. So…two years, a little more. No one but my father talked to me.

So, you can imagine my surprise, no that is too understated, bolt from the blue: My mother and my sister showed up, without announcement.

Neither had been to my house before. You don’t say you were “just in the neighborhood”. They lived 1500 miles away in Kenosha, Wisconsin

When they arrived, I was on my way to work. I called in suicidal. Willie would be working the night shift; we were just getting to know each other. Now she was going to endure the familial wrath. And trust me, they did not disappoint. Everything seemed copasetic initially.
My sister had surgery on her foot  wizardofoz (from the house falling on her) and was in need of attention since she drove the van. Willie did something straight out of the bible. She brought a pan of warm water, undressed her wound, cleaned it and redressed it. From that moment on she seemed to curry favor from the impossible. The same would not be true for me.

My sister and mother were preoccupied with me. it has been the two of them cackling and retched laughter. Ewww...The two of them made sport of me, ridiculing, demeaning me. The most difficult was the invalidation. I could bring up ANY subject and that would be the signal. For instance, I was in the room with my mother and my sister and several other family friends.

Example:
I brought up the dances of my youth. These dances were a pinnacle of my puberty. They were in the church auditorium,CYO (Catholic Youth Organization). My mother sneered at me and said “What the hell are you talking about Dianne? I have never heard of CYO. And of course my sister laughed at me and said “you just make things up as you go".
Something so trivial, blown out of proportion and of course, making me rethink my own memories. I did not have many pleasant ones, so the few I had, I treasured.
But someone spoke up in my defense. This was something unheard of and Rose (my salvation) said
“Mae, we used to take the kids all the time and we’re not even Catholic!  Atleast that's what you said they were.”

She, of course endured the silent wrath of the situation. I just thought it was funny that she was actually pulled down a few knocks. Oh, and that I’m not out of my mind This was just typical of the opposition I withstood every time I went to visit them. One EXAMPLE of thousands. Nothing I said was the truth.

The irony is all my life everyone, family and friends commented on my mother’s ability to turn everything around. Also, she either embellished (if she was for the person or situation) or demeaned a person. Her tales were frequent and most people just laughed it off. My father knew. He told me

“Dianne, I don’t know what to do anymore. She absolutely doesn’t get it!”
“Well dad, no-one says anything, so why should she stop?  It is a sort of fanaticism and it won’t end until then.”

He claimed he did confront her. The worst, he said, my sister was following suit. Now, there was a time I could actually say my sister was above reproach. And then she moved in with me and I saw a different side. But it wasn’t as bad as my mother. Even she made reference to my mother’s mendacity, saying it was so frustrating. If possible, Marnie is worse. Most of my mother’s were harmless. Marnie, she is vicious and without acknowledgment. She actually, like my mother, believes her own lies.

This is a difficult situation to live in for anyone. I cannot stay a week with her without disgust and disappointment. My sister is gone and all that’s left is this tyrant. And the Mary I used to know was sweet, loving and funny.

And anyone who enters their home suddenly acts like they are sworn in by the Superior Court and have had gag orders.

They say nothing and do her bidding. It’s pathetic.

Destroying my life. Marnie has made this her life’s goal. It is sad. Instead of maybe reading, or writing, drawing, anything…she spends her life taking me apart. Why? MANY reasons. All of which, if believed by other’s would loose her friends, maybe family, some for sure in the south. She has caused rifts with every family member. Making up narratives as she goes along. Neither of my brother’s talks to me. The oldest because of her fabrications, the second oldest because of his own.
She is eventually going to have to come to blows with it. She goes to church every Sunday, St. Andrews? So she must believe in God. She also has had the absolute worst things that can happen to a mother. Things that if they happened to me, I would be groveling to make certain it didn’t happen again, that is, if I hadn‘t shot myself. And that is all I can say about that. But if she believes in eternal salvation, or even reincarnation of the Buddhists, she will need to make amends. Or just stop. That would work. Stop lying, stabbing friends and family in the back. Turning family against family.
Meanwhile, back to Houston:

Marnie and my mother Mae had stopped in and planned to stay a few days. Nothing went well for me. My sister-in-law (My husband’s gay sister) told Willie to NEVER allow me to be alone with them, but it seemed that they had matured from the past and thus, gave the impression that everything was water under the bridge.

Ok ...Take a deep breath because Willie and I had a false sense of security.
Willie went to work while Marnie, my mother, my daughter and my sister’s two children went clear across Houston to eat. It was a restaurant called Houston’s (go figure). My sister worked there at some point when she moved in with me.
At that time she was a real, honest to goodness, human being … and then the house fell on her and someone took back the Ruby slippers.
ruby She hasn’t been the same. Mmm. Ok. During that time, unannounced, she treated my home as a gathering place for her friends that needed a cheap place to stay.

Once again, I am behind myself, Back to Marnie, Mae, me, my 2 nephews (who will play an integral part of all our lives, so profound, it will be more than most people could take in several lifetimes) my precious daughter, and Houston’s.
There I was, 42 years old allowing myself to relinquish any dignity I had, and in front of my child no less. I can’t remember what the argument was about. My mother and sister felt completely at ease disciplining my children, but any part of the family that tried to reign in her boys were subject to more than a cursory counter attack from my mother or my sister.

Willie said that prisons were being built for them as we spoke. (How prophetic that will become).
They were handsome boys, given to rambunctious behavior as boys surely are. But all children will get out of hand without adult supervision. My sister’s idea of supervision is to scream at them or ignore them. The younger one was at even more of a disadvantage because – as my sister told us, he, the younger of the 2, was denied by his father. We will call the older Joseph and the younger, Jessie.

We are driving in my sister’s van, to the restaurant. The boy’s were starting up and the older, Joseph punched the younger, Jesse. Jesse screamed, whereas, my sister, yelled at Jesse and I had the audacity to have a “look” on my face.

That was the announcer saying

...“Let’s get ready to rumble!!!!”

Here's a visual...3...2...1...

There you have it, my sister and mother. Including the rewording of everything I (and anyone else) says.
No rhyme. No reason.


And noone wants to get in between them/ They would sell their own souls before they would defend anyone or anything from Marnie or Mae.

It seemed it would never stop. With Marnie and Mae, you could actually see bat’s wings sprouting out from their shoulders.
My life as a child was filled with fear, Inconsistencies and most days...without hope. And adulthood did nothing to lesson these horrors. If possible they are worse.


To be continued





Music:Tears for Fear/ Mad World 

Some of the names and characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an acount of actual events.  For the few who have given me permission, I thank you.   © Truth has witnesses ©DSL

©   This material is the copyright of  Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author.    All rights reserved


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Texas Ren Fairre

Page 67

October, 1996

Willie and I were settling into a very comfortable life. She paid the bills, played catch up on those items that were a bit behind. She put me up on a pedestal. She made me want for nothing. And in turn, I treated her like a king. Anything she wanted, she got. It was easy. That sort of thing is when you are in love.

 

She had yet another enticement, she work for the Texas Renaissance Festival (TRF). TRF is the only fair to stick to the timelines of King Henry the Eighth. If you are chosen to work there, you had to learn either “The Kings English” or cockney lower class English. You were to wear garb WITHOUT the benefit of zippers, eye hooks (that could be seen), tennis shoes and the like. I had gone to the RENFair many times, I longed for the chance to see it after hours, work it as I would if I were a purveyor from the 1600’s.

The fair was at once, the ending of Willies relationship to Dana. I believed Willie when she told me the degeneration was based on Willie being truthful about a kiss she had with another player at the fair. Willie claimed it was just a kiss. Dana found this to be only a small piece of what had in reality happened. Willie had essentially had an affair. Dana exposed and dismissed Willie from her life entirely.


I had been warned by many of Willie’s friends about a few matters regarding Willie, the TRF was one.


“Willie has her heart and soul put into the TRF” said Betty (Owner of Coffee shop at Greenway).


“If you don’t want all your weekends stolen for 6 weeks, I would suggest you stop this now”.

In my head was a swirling dervish of “OMG, My wish has come true!"





As a matter of fact, she was staying with Nancy (an indentured worker for the Faire) after that recent exile from Dana. So the absolutely lowest salary I would ever get wasweighed against the fantasy of working and just being a part. I would have worked for free.




It is the preeminent Faire in the nation. It followed the Tudor timeline critically. Employees of the festival could not wear anything that would not have been available during that time. No sneakers, zippers clasps. However, we could swear and insult people all we wanted. We had a great place above Nobel House to sleep. Our employer, MIL, had been generous enough to build a sleeping dorm, complete with bunk beds and a LARGE dressing area, and multiple sinks. However, we each had our own beds, Willie and I slept together on a tiny single bunk. She had a tiny color television and we would watch it until one or both of us fell asleep.




We had to wear something on our heads, so I made the most beautiful garlands. I got so many compliments. However, MIL did not like it because they garnered the lion’s shares of profits with the garlands, wooden swords, tankers, pewter goblets, tee shirts and many other parcels of merchandising exclusive to the fair. They were acquisitive and wanted every dime for every item associated with them. They also owned Nobel house, the Butterfly House, the Sword Shop, Coffee shop, unusual safari shop, and all the kiosks.




The politics of the situation were another thing. Willie felt like MIL took advantage. She said they paid the very least and skirted federal hiring laws. There were underage children. And these kids would be dropped off on Friday, work all Friday night in preparation, Saturday from 6 am to closing which was around 9, unless some moron forgot to load the closing canon (BOOM) that went off to tell everyone to go. But there were times the canon would not get fired on time and we would work until 10pm, then we had to do inventory, clean, and be up for work at 6 am on Sunday. The owner got the door sales ($16+) per person up 75,000 or more a day in sales. Then he got a fee for the new owner’s site and finally 20% of all sales. It was not uncommon for some of the large businesses to give false tallies. And who could blame them. The man was rich. And he had an exotic taste in women.


His latest wife, a young, 24 year old girl from Thailand, Susie, spoke no English and knew no one. She came to the fair, and of all the people, she found me. I learned a little Thai. When I made this alliance, I got special privileges that I truly did NOT want. That is, if Susie Coulam came to my store, I was to be allowed to leave and do her beckoning. She was a truly beautiful delightful young woman. She wanted to learn ANYTHING. So I taught her AutoCAD, and of course we worked on her English. As we became friends she told me of her marriage and it was not a good thing. I need not take this to the extent of delighting this audience with someone else’s destruction.



I helped her leave her husband, but he was angry. He deported her. She called me at work from Thailand crying. I went to the department of deportation and told them the entire story. They had her back in the states within a week. I was legally responsible for her. So I moved her into my house and continued the lessons. I made a resume for her, sent it out to my colleagues and she got a job for Steinberg Architects and today is married and very happy and successful.


This all occurred after that season at the RENFair.



I loved it. I made several friends, some who have resumed our friendship again after this many years by finding me here. I enjoyed the Faire, this dalliance ended it. But Willie was secretly relieved. Her hip was giving her pain and she couldn’t take the tasks given to her. She was tired of kissing up to the owners and finally, she realized she was a grown up and she deserved to be treated with the dignity a person that put the kind of hours in she did. And she wanted to work for the VA. But I miss it so much and would go back.



The final day, music from Michael Crawford’s show in Las Vegas played over large speakers as we went from shop to shop to take advantage of a 50% markdown. The magnificent moon led us. The same moon Henry the Eighth had played under as a child and conspired as an adult.


The stars ...oh the stars

Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-browed night,
Give me my Romeo. And when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night

Yes, I actually recited Shakespeare.


Sue me.


It was truly magical.


Do not be sad for me, I have been invited back and intend to work again at the Faire.


As we entered into the fall season, the wellbeing we felt, was soon going to metamorphose into yet another interruption from my volatile family. And if you thought it couldn’t get worse, it does.


To be continued …


Music:Michael Crawford Ocean

Some of the names and characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an acount of actual events. For the few who have given me permission, I thank you. © Truth has witnesses ©DSL

© This material is the copyright of Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author. All rights reserved

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Ain't that what you said?


A single lie destroys a whole reputation of integrity. Baltasar Gracian
Page 66


June 21, 1996


Life seemed perfect. However it is said if everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something.

I had not worked for the Engineering firm where Jerry and I met for almost two years. I was working for a Structural Engineering firm at Greenway Plaza in Houston. The place I met Willie.

I was officially 10 years gay. And I met that title to a fault. I had not been with a man since the day I kissed Debra.


But for the last 9 of these ten years I was in and out of several gay relationships - some lasting years, others seeming to last only minutes.


Maggie and I had a special bond in that, even though we had slept together, we had a stronger friendship. So we danced the dance and talked the talk but never made it past “Oh what a great friend you have been.“ And she was. We shared secrets and past pain, both in family and potential mates. Maggie’s brother had been my brother’s pawl bearer, she told me this the first day we met when working at the Wortham. Our ties were close. She was only the third woman I had been with, the second if you don’t count Sheryl, which you really shouldn’t.

I am still friends with Maggie today, as I am with ALL but my most recent partner. So in some way I must have done something right. But my most recent had girlfriends before me and theyare now very good friends with me. However, they choose to not be friends with her (my ex). And several of her friends, Paul, Francine, Betty, Clay are all my friends as well. Most of them if not all have also chosen to not be friends with her (the ex).

So I guess I lost one and gained over a dozen. They talk to me more in a month than she did during the last year.

I had invited Juli and Dana, two of Willie‘s exes to our combined birthday party at Jerry‘s. They didn’t show. My ex, Yvonne showed. And she should have avoided me like the plaque (I know - cliche'). She helped my last partner move out. I invited Bootsie but Willie went ballistic and Jerry begged me not to have a lesbian duel in his house. He didn’t like that sort of thing and the last time it happened he almost didn’t survive.

The party was a hit with an almost 200 people showing. Keith Caldwell made videos of the entire thing. Including the food with a narration. Debra Davis, my boss at the time and Clancy Saunders from another structural firm. Even my children showed. Gary Lungaro and John Wright came from Mel’s work, but of the 200 people, approximately 150 were friends or close acquaintances were mine, 2 maybe 3 were Willie’s. She attributed it to last minute invitation. But somehow the party was a success even though it was Father’s Day, and the rest did not feel the last minute to be an issue. YAY!

When I arrived home from work the following Monday, I found Willie on the phone. With Juli. After she told me who she was speaking with, covering the phone with her hand and putting it under a pillow for added sound suppression, I asked to find out WHY Juli did not show at the party. I left the room quietly irritated.

Willie must have cut the conversation short because she was immediately on my heels.

“Juli just called to borrow money” I would find out one day that this was FAR from the truth and that the opposite was true.

“WHAT?” I was infuriated. “She doesn’t come to your birthday party, but calls to borrow money?”

I was absolutely incredulous. I found it especially peculiar that Juli did not show to Jerry’s, a person she had performed with often.

“You had better not. I continued “I make the significant share of the money in this house, have her call me.”

Willie said the incident was over and her conscience was clear. I have found a clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

And that was the last I heard of the matter.

Why Dana didn’t show, I had no idea. I really wanted her to be there. I had a HUGE crush on her since the first day I saw her. She and Willie were together almost 4 years.

It all seemed odd. People break up, that’s true, and some don’t speak … for a while. But it has been my experience that it usually bowls over in a year, so yes Dana I could understand, but Juli? This incident would resolve itself, fourteen years later.

To be continued …


Music: 3 Dog Night/Liar

Some of the names and characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an acount of actual events. For the few who have given me permission, I thank you. © Truth has witnesses ©DSL

© This material is the copyright of Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author. All rights reserved.


My Love


...Oh my love
Page 65


It was June and my birthday. Jerry Atwood had thrown a party for me every year since I met him, at that point 3 years.

I had several friends, more than most, before I met Jerry. After meeting Jerry, this list of friends grew ten fold.  If you are in the gay community, this is normal, so I should say, I had more friends than a WASP. The gay community is a family blanketed community and once a brother or sister met another, they became your friend. It is for survival. And yes it is that fundamental. I would not be alive today without the many caring individuals in this clandestine society. Dana, Juli, Risa, Vivi, Carol, Keith, Clay, Bobby, Stephen, Debra and on it goes. And finally Jerry. .

I met Jerry in 1993 at the Consulting Engineering company I worked with. I was the Cad Manager. I was also an Electrical designer.  I baby sat 40 men who wanted nothing to do with AutoCAD. I was the beast taking away their creative freedom. You had to have tough skin to be in a company ran by a Jehovah’s Witness and surrounded by them. The JH's were relatively harmless, but they had their clique.  They weren’t half as bad as the rednecks, homophobes and racists.

Being the only woman, I was the constant target of many of these very small men with even smaller minds. Yet they pestered me all day long. No matter how long I spent going over the computer commands, like explaining a ball to a 2 year old, they would still ask me to come over and do a replay. I programmed digital tablets where all the commands they needed were in colorful icons. Like that chimpanzee who was trained to docommands on a computer from a board of festive pictures. Look at the icons, pick the right one. Pretty basic. No. They could not even do what a monkey could do.

I served them without one complaint, repeatedly.

And then I had “the opposites”. Men so egotistical and chauvinistic, they will pull down the AutoCAD manual rather than ask. This was a, inch and a half thick book. And I WAS PART OF THE CREATION OF THE BOOK. They would spend an hour trying to find one simple command, something that all they needed to do was call me over and I could most likely yell the command back at them.

One fellow, Ken A., a kaki and men’s warehouse guy, sat immediately next to me. He was one of those that had an office and company car marinating. I didn’t have a position, the time or the money to be caught up in office politics.  I just did what I did. He was one that would give an air of equality, but he was a pack wolf, and he wanted to keep me in my place by stubbornly relying on that manual, so he wouldn’t be caught asking me.

Something like Andy on the Office:
Andy kissing up to the boss
Silence is the best reward.

Dave M., the VP of the company would grace us often, walking up and down the aisle, making derisive remarks about wasted efforts when he would see a pile of eraser shavings on the floor. He made his way to my cubicle, but not without catching Ken in one of those supercilious moods perusing the manual.

“Ken, whatcha reading there during my Exxon deadline? Before Ken could answer “Ohhhh, AutoCAD. I thought you already knew CAD?”

“Just looking something up” he went back to flipping through the tissue paper thin pages.
“What? Our CAD guru actually doesn’t know something in CAD?”

Dave  perused the bull pen, seeing all of the interlopers passing money between them.  I continued my work, because, frankly, I didn’t give a shit.

“I didn’t ask her, I just felt it was easier to look it up” Ken slowly, deliberately laid down the book.

The room started to rumble and more people were staking their bets.

“Soooo, you didn’t even ask her” Dave folded his arms in certain judgment. You have the closest seat to the woman who taught ALL of these men CAD, successfully. Some who will fake illness if she’s not here.”
“I don’t care for her tactics…“ Ken closed the book and put it to the side, folded his hands on his drafting table.

I stopped what I was doing , and turned to face him with my hands on my table. This fuck. Why do men feel the necessity to make me uncomfortable in my job?  As if I was going to rise to meteoric level and rule over all of them.  I could have, but it wouldn't have happened at that company.  They were racist as well, so it wouldn't have mattered if i could have, I certainly wouldn't have wanted to.

“That book that you were reading, " Dave smiled, "look in the back “
Ken went over the list of contributors and came upon my name. And of course, the kiss ass that he was (he would buy Chapstick by the case) he apologized to me. The next day, there he was reading through the manual. Talk about wasted effort.

Ken and several of the other guys played basketball at lunch, leaving all deadline “redmarks” for me to complete. I often worked lunch so I could go home early. I also came in at 5am so I could have some quiet and work on drawings. But I never got to go home early. And these guys expected me to do their bidding.

Now multiply that chauvinism times 40.

This is what Jerry walked into. The first day of his hire, during his walk through, I immediately knew he was gay. I don’t know why, I just knew. He was assigned to work with me on the Exxon project. And I was to teach him CAD.

That evening he came clean and we became instant friends. That winter I worked on his personal charity, The Christmas Songfest.Jerry is by far the most altruistic, enigmatic person I have ever known. His influence is felt across a melting pot of personalities in Houston. He has the quintessential A-list and never enters an establishment without people knowing him. Everyone wants to touch his coat tails. He was a prodigy at 10 years of age. He has never been very far from a piano, and any piano he sees he plays.
And he is quite beautiful to look at.

At Christmas Jerry recognized that not all people in the Gay community were embraced by their family. As a matter of fact, very few are. They spent their Christmases alone. He would invite all these people to his home and he would have a magnificent feast. He then played piano on his 100 year-old concert grand, flawlessly while everyone took turns either singing solo or with a group, mostly Christmas Carols. He was a child prodigy and played magnificent piano. I could gush on him forever, he’s too humble to do so himself.

That is now a Charity. It is called A Christmas Songfest. It is the Biggest Christmas Sing along in Texas.  And it included EVERYONE. We had celebrities, silent auction, food drink and singing of course.

Bobby (Jerry’s S/O) created the ambiance. He spent countless hours, days, creating the perfect effect. It drew thousands of people and had an overhead of 4%, due to the outpouring of donations. We raised sometimes up $50,000 or more.
Terry Pierce and Santa at A Christmas Songfest   (Isn't she lovely? Voted on FB to be put in the movies)

The beneficiaries were AIDS related. Omega house, where AIDS patients spend their last days, Children with Aids, prescription drug assistance, you name it, he did it. I nestled into this by creating the songbooks, selling advertising, and being Jerry’s kicking girl. This put me on the “A-List”. I could pretty much count on my dating eligibility grow. And it did.

That is how my friendship base expanded. Better than Facebook.

I couldn’t wait for Willie to meet them all. She had already met Jerry, and he approved. He liked my ex, but always felt our age difference would preclude any chance of permanence. He decided to merge mine and Willie’s birthdays for one big blowout. And blowout it was. There were so many people, it spilled to the outside. It was June, hot. But everyone came. Almost 200 people. The food was marvelous, catered by Hunan. The entertainment were the several talented musicians Jerry knew. Some had their CD’s, which others felt it was tacky to pander at a party for someone else. I could’ve cared less. I bought two.

Yvonne and Susan showed, the 2 who helped NEW GIRL move out. It had been 6 months since I talked to them. I have no idea why I invited them. Perhaps to rub Willie in their face. They begged my forgiveness. I was in a good mood so I offered it. ·I favor logic over dissention. That situation was over.
Peculiar, I had invited Juli and Dana. Willie's two exes.  They didn’t show. The reason?

Things were not as they seem.

Again.

To be continued

About Jerry … and maybe YOU.

If you are going out anyhow, why not Phil and Dereks.  Fabulous food, a romantic hideaway on Bammel, where you too can be part of the Jerry Atwood experience.
He plays all venues, wedding, bar-mitzvahs, parties.  You name it, he's there.  You can see him Friday and Saturday nights with:Ricky Comeaux, Glynda McGinnis/Country Pop, Deborah Boiley/French Chanteaus, Sharon Montgomery/RomanticJulie Link/Jazz Blues , Terry Pierce/An unbelievable, huge, seriously beautiful voice (she sang with the Rightous Brothers), Kaycee Glass/Sweet dreams etc.






Music: Atwood and Comeaux/ Silent Voices
Top Photo:  Jerry Atwood playing Elton John's Red Piano


Some of the names and characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an acount of actual events.  For the few who have given me permission, I thank you.   © Truth has witnesses ©DSL
©   This material is the copyright of  Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author.    All rights reserved

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Sunday, January 1, 2012

Longer

Page 64


We'll fly through the falls and summers with love on our wings.

Bootsie was Angry, devastated that after everything we had been together, I chose Willie. She used every meritable cause to prove she could be a good parent, but the die had been cast. I never even asked Devo if we should reconsider. Besides, I am a mother and I knew absolutely better. My last relationship began with one of my children’s choices and in the end, it was not good for them.

We all came to the same decision and the tribe voted Willie in. But I have no idea why she found it necessary to lie with the “Taking me for a romatic picnic” crap? Bootsie could not have been any more angry and hurt.

The first time I had been with Willie, it was at a beautiful hotel. As I would come to find out, she LOVED hotels, she loved room service, and for making $12 an hour, she could spend 12 times that in the same amount of time. Willie also like pretenses. Clothes, cars, even the most expensive and prestigious animals.

She spent a lot on me that day.

But I returned to Wendy, and the prior chapter explains what happened there and Willies definitive pairing with me.
Willie had the most beautiful skin, translucent almost. When people would talk about skin colors and politically correct assuages, I would say Willie was “clear”. She was always dressed with tediously pressed clothing, her hair was in a buzz cut. She was once told by a window attendant that “it is a brave hairdo”. Most often, this situation would be the one where she was called sir.

The second time Willie and I were together was at her friend Nancy’s S. house. Nancy was away at the RENFair working that day, setting up for the future season.

Willie put on “Longer” by Dan Fogelburg, and that became our song. We made love for hours. Willie was - at every moment - stunned that she would take an afternoon off work to do ANYTHING but shop. We watched Boxing Helena and 9 ½ weeks, which she found a but unsettling, but not enough to keep her off my body. I feel asleep with her watching me, woke up several hours later and she was in the same position, just staring.

“I was afraid to go to sleep for fear you would disappear” she whispered into my hair kissing my neck and face, making love again.

She pressured me to let her move in. She said Nancy was difficult to live with and it was only to be temporary. I thought about this, but not long enough. I let her move in immediately. Everything finally seemed right with the world…finally.

It wasn’t like it was with Debra. That was not going to happen twice in a lifetime. Our passion held it’s own merit and Willie learned much about herself during our lovemaking

I was attracted to everything about Willie. The way she looked, her demeanor which was very cool and calculated. She evaluated everything around her to find out where she fell in the food chain. She was controlling, but I am attracted to that as well. It’s not P.I. but don’t expect me at this point to become someone different than I am. Normal is nothing more than a cycle on a washing machine.

I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not. (Kurt Cobain).
She had her quirks as I would come to find out. I could NEVER make the first move sexually. The repression of these women! And maybe it would have been that way eventually with Debra, but everything was so reciprocal when we would meet, the savage sensuality had a life of it’s own. And it made all the decisions. Debra and I never took the time to discuss it. What amazes me is Anna said that they never had a love life like that. Most of the people I have been with have said that making love with me was different than anything they had experienced. At the same time, every one of these people I felt different with each one, so, I guess, I felt THEY were bringing the sensuality - not I. Isn’t that really what makes a good lover? Her partner?

With ALL my partners, I received great satisfaction in being the wife. When I was with my husbands, neither of them lacked for anything, nor would they be saddled with chores of co-parenting when they got home. I know, that may have not been the right decision, but it worked at the time. In order to add to the income, I also babysat. And I was very popular. Mothers cried when I moved. Cessie Sanchez, Anthony Fernandez, they were two little people I miss even now. And I was eternally grateful to be able to raise my own children. Breastfeed, Devo for 18 months, the oldest for 9 months and Trey for 3 (father-in-law interference just made it too difficult).

And meals were prepared and hot.

When I was with Bootsie, the few short weeks we made an attempt to be together, she worked till 3am. When she came home I would have stuffed crab, Stuffed Mushroom, a perfect steak, even homemade rueben sandwiches, cake, pastries, pies.

Willie enjoyed the same even though her pallet was a little crude. Willie came from a family where gravy was a beverage. Now it would seem this would be easy, but I loved to cook, experiment and see the delight in other’s eyes. She didn’t like cheese, sour cream, regular chocolate, pasta, very seldom pizza. She loved fruitcake, candy corn, ribbon candy and extra dark chocolate (almost identical to ex-lax).

And finally, very controlling. I said that already. Didn’t I? She was constantly calling me at my job, making certain she knew my every move. This would drive her to distraction. Me, I was used to it. I had never been with anyone who wasn’t.

An example of how this would play out; Willie had several awards and certificated from her days in the Coast Guard. I felt it was a shame to have them in tubs locked away. She earned them, she deserved to have them on Display. I searched stores for hours after work to find just the right frames and mats. I also had several of her pictures blown up. This task was so much fun. But steadily as the days went by, Willie became sullen and removed. Finally one night she came home in tears asking for a “we gotta talk” meeting. Don’t you just love those?

“Are you cheating on me” She wrung her hands looking down at her feet.
“What? Are you crazy? I have never been this happy, why would I destroy this?”
“I know you are saying it is something special for me” She continued “but it has been quite a while, and I don’t know, it just seems suspicious”

So I had to spoil this beautiful gift by bringing her into the spare bedroom and letting her see all the awards, letter and pictures lying about in decision the making stage. Over 50 in all. Willie was properly apologetic. And then all was well with the world.

Devo was graduating middle school when Willie and I got together. And that was our first family function. And it was delightful.

I was working in the architectural industry. By working, I mean 60 to 80 hour weeks; this was the determining point of my ex-partners. I was physically unavailable thus emotionally unavailable.

There was something about Willie that made me want to adopt the characteristics of my former life. "The straight life." A life where my husband worked outside of the home, I worked inside the home. I kept house, cooked everyday, made clothing and was a sexual dynamo.

I also had a thriving artistic life.

I brought to my gay relationships from my married life, Art and cooking. Yes, and the sex. And I would give them a home, cash, resume maker and a car. Almost everyone got a car only weeks before they left.

My house had to be a specific way, whether it was me, Willie, my daughter or a housekeeper. For the most part, it was me. I had received many wonderful gifts over the last decades and I treasured each and everyone.

So what was the difference between those days and this new relationship? I felt differently. Willie made me feel like I wanted to take care of her. She said we were forever. How was I to distinguish love from lust? Our relationship was lust filled. Let’s say I liked the anatomical piercing she had.

I liked the way she walked, talked and made me feel. I believed everything she said, agreed to everything she did. She told me she would teach me that love did not have to hurt.

She kept the bills, the first time EVER that someone in my life was allowed to do this. It was a relief. I simply signed my checks and that was that. I made twice as much if not three times as much as she did.

In return, I would get up at 2am, make her dinner and stay up with her until she went to sleep. Most nights she would come in, get her dinner that I made her and turn on the TV. It did not matter if I had to go to work in a couple of hours. I never complained. It was around this time that the raw truth found its way to the top and my first pang of fear and doubt.

Meantime, a new revelation about Willie was to reveal itself, for the bad? Or for the good?

To Be Continued




The Music of “If It Seems Too Good To Be True” on YOUTUBE

Music: EROS/Anastacia: I belong to you.


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Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author. All rights reserved

Some of the names and characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an acount of actual events. For the few who have given me permission, I thank you. © Truth has witnesses ©DSL