FEAR No. 054 – The Cool Kids
February 11, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
Like most of the East Coast and Midwest, Cleveland was hit with a blizzard. Of course, most would laugh where most equals Forbes Magazine because I swear that publication has it out for us, and don’t you Cleveland-guys generally suck at, you know, EVERYTHING?
Stupid Forbes Magazine. Read more
FEAR No. 053 – Circles Unbroken
February 2, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by, Lord, by and by
There’s a better home a-waiting
In the sky, Lord, in the sky–Habershon/Gabriel, Will The Circle Be Unbroken (1907)
BFam and I share a lot of connections. (A marriage and two kids later, you’d think we ought to share something.) Crappy paternal figures is one of them. Since I haven’t asked his permission to air the details of even an iota of his personal business on this site, I’m going to assume it’s off-limits and only focus on generalities. No sense in us ending up in Divorce Court after my proclamation of connection sharing and all. How about you take my word for it?
Crappy daddy issues. Check.
In the past few weeks, his paternalism has come into serious question. Those crappy daddy issues have been stopping by for coffee, which is how it always starts. First, coffee. Then, lunch. It’s not long until they’re asking you to take them to the Mall. And can you pick them up from work? Oh and, while you’re at it, can you hook up their entertainment system? Makes you wonder what tree BFam fell from.
BFam is an awesome dad. I envy my girls sometimes because they have no idea how bad they could have had it. Father figures in the black community border extinction. It is the unfortunate cornerstone of our society. Because of this, BFam is an enigma on so many levels. He’s present. He’s active. He’s protective. He’s stern. He’s patient. He’s loving. By our standards, he’s weird. Even more so because he has had no good examples of what a father is or should be. NONE. This is where the paternalism is questioned. How is it possible? How could having no example BE the example? If asked, BFam will simply tell you that seeing what he didn’t like gave him all the incentive to become what he wished he’d had. I’ve been with him long enough to know and understand his answers to these questions. Friends and colleagues of mine – just hearing snippets of our story – peel the scabs afresh…
How could having no example BE the example?
Until I met BFam, I had no awareness of familial “circles” or cycles. The recycling of behaviors, the reliving of past faults. It’s the déjà vu of regret. Instead of worrying if little Jimmy will have your protruding, Vulcan-like ears, now you’ve got to worry if he’ll be a gambler like your sister. Will he have a drug problem like your uncle. Will he take up drinking like your mother. Will he be an illegitimate father like you. When your worries and fears for your offspring are usurped, analyzed, then faced… congratulations. The circle is broken.
Notice I said “faced”. Uh boy…
BFam and I also share the connection in being great avoiders. We both hate conflict. I can actually handle it if it’s self-derived. Him? Not so much. And neither of us have broken our circles because we won’t face them. Run from them? Yes. Ignore them? I’m sorry, I can’t see you RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE, problem. Now go away.
Because of BFam, I am much more aware of my own familial circles. Collectively, we haven’t faced them. We are full aware that may end up biting us in the butt. The circles need to be broken for our sanity. For our children.
In following the trials of my blog buddy, Miss Britt, and all she and her family are going through, I see BFam and I aren’t the only ones with circles to break. Familial circles or cycles are REAL. Blood is an extremely powerful thing. It’s almost like a family curse. But how do you handle it? How do you face it? How do you break it and, if not you, then who?
As parents, BFam and I are adamant about keeping each other in check. We know enough about each others’ families, and the things we don’t like, to tell each other to cool it if we see similarities creep in to our circle. All this may mean nothing if we don’t speak to our own demons. Who knows what could flood out of those circles once and if we do.
Cover image: Circles by ~itsboyte on deviantART
FEAR No. 052 – Dying Alone
January 27, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
Today’s FEAR is brought to you by real life. Granted, all of my fears are brought on my real-life situations. Things I’ve gone through or experienced in the past. Today is different because this real life happened last night, so it’s nice and fresh.
My neighbor died.
I know. Big deal, right? People die all the time. But Georganne was different. I didn’t know her well. I’d invited her over this past summer after BFam and she struck up conversation while he attended to yard work. Our yards are adjoining, and the kids would always wander over – or roll over, depending on what game they were playing. I’d chastise them for the intrusion. People feel a way about their property, and you just don’t know how they feel about kids or dogs, or if there are bear traps set out there. Because it’s the suburbs means nothing. You just… you don’t know, man. Bears and mongoose (mongooses? mongeese?) could be rampant. But she was so nice. So warm and friendly. “Oh, they’re just kids. What do I care?” she’d say.
I should have known. When I met her, I could see signs of loneliness. I told BFam as much. I’d never see her on the weekends. Never see her leave her house. Never see many lights on. Her son, and only child, lived two hours away. She was a widow. She claimed to have friends, but I never saw anyone come over. When she spoke, it was soft and you strained to hear her. She’d smile, but there was sadness there. She was only 58, plenty of time to be out and about and living life. But she wasn’t, for whatever reason. Just alone in her house. No pets. No kids. No friends. Was she afraid? Depressed? I don’t know, but I wanted to give her a hug. That’s what my mind said. My body never got that far.
For weeks, we’d seen a light on over her front door. This isn’t odd except she never turns her lights on. Ever. BFam was the first to mention it. We’d waved it off. Last night, the police were at our door. Her friends called them. They hadn’t seen her in weeks, possibly the same weeks we’d seen that light on. After knocking on her doors and asking neighbors if they’d seen her, we gave them the ladder from our garage to reach her window and break in. Minutes later, they confirmed our fears. We don’t know how long she’d been dead in there. Don’t know if she was suffering. Don’t know if she’d fallen and hurt herself, or needed help. Don’t know if she killed herself. All we know is she died as she’d lived. Alone. And it took weeks before anyone noticed.
Of course, I’m wracked with guilt. People tell me I shouldn’t be. How could I have known? But driving past her house, I see those same unnoticed weeks’ worth of mail sticking out of her chute. Why hadn’t I seen that before? The signs were everywhere. How had I missed it?
I don’t know what the rest of my life has planned for me. The girls will grow up. Maybe they’ll move out, move out of state, far away from their obnoxious parents which we aren’t yet, but you just know is coming. Between BFam and I, we have bets on who would kick the bucket first. Will I be a widow? Or will BFam finally be rid of me?
How I die has plagued me more than when I’d die. Yet, after last night, I was faced with the possibility that I could end up dying alone. Suddenly, even how I’d die seemed small. Dying alone is something I’d never want, and I hate that Georganne left this way.
I’ve disabled comments. I value anything – good or bad – a reader would say to something I’d written, but this is still pretty raw, and death is generally a big deal for me. I’m still dealing with guilt, which could just be my own issues that I need to get over. But I need time and a way to grieve for someone that could easily be me.
Cover image: Cemetary Statue by ~spicorder-stock
FEAR No. 051 – Tomorrow
January 21, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
A few weeks ago, when the family was on the verge of ending their respective Christmas breaks, and the prospect of school and work loomed on the horizon, we decided to take a trip to the local movie theater and take in a flick of the kids’ choosing. This meant Mooter was in charge of the movie-picking because Booger could care less. Unfortunately, this also meant we’d have to see something where singing and dancing were involved. Those are BFam’s absolute FAVES! We’re always telling him to hush up, him with the Broadway and the Fosse and the jazz hands.
No, not really.
After we gave him his Diazepam, we headed out for a rousing hour-and-a-half of Alvin & The Chipmunks: The Squeakquel. While BFam and I were lost in our thoughts of nothing killing us quicker than this, we walked into an aunt and cousins of his. Ironic we thought of death around this time because it was during this run-in she informed us a relative was in hospice and didn’t have much time.
Nerds.
Two days later, we received a text with the address of the funeral home where the memorial arrangements had been made. The weekend of the would-be anniversary of our first date (yes, we are that pathetic), and subsequent thirteen years together, were spent mourning. I’m sure we could have thought of much better ways to spend a momentous occasion. But, as we were finding, life and death don’t work that way.
I hate funerals. Obviously, I don’t know anyone crazy about them, but I’m a special person who hinders on morbidity. Inviting death over for a chat, possibly an interview, is nothing new for me. While everyone is crying and mourning, speaking words of remembrance, I’m reading the obituary and thinking of how I would want to be remembered when my time comes. What I’d want people to say about me. I don’t have many friends. I don’t know many people. Who would come? Who would carry my lifeless body to my final dirt nap? BFam is one of my only friends, so I’m tasked with burdening him with these questions. Poor BFam. He just shakes his head and pats my hand like an old man pats his senile wife who yells at the potted plants thinking they’re the cat.
Not many people like talking about death. Judging by the lack of wills most families have prepared (including my own), not many like thinking about their mortality either. “I’ll do it tomorrow,” they say. The relative that passed was hit with a terminal illness, and it wiped her out in a matter of months. MONTHS. She was fine one minute, gone the next.
Part of my FEAR list hit on worrying about how I’m living instead of how I’ll die. Obituaries are a good way of summarizing the life of a person and, so far, mine is blank. I hate to tack on to my morbid outlook, but maybe creating my own obituary will give me some goals and aspirations. I’ve got a life to fill up today. Who can see tomorrow?
Cover Image: Timeless Winter by =Alexandru1988
A Moment Of Compassion
January 15, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
I can’t, in good conscience, pretend I don’t see what I’m sure the entire world is witnessing right now. I can’t, in good conscience, pretend the video footage, the live satellite feeds, the interviews, the pleas for help, the suffering, the bleeding, THE BABIES lying dead in the street… aren’t affecting me.
Babies. Just… the babies.
Catastrophic things happen all the time. It is the nature of the world and the casualties of life. But when catastrophic things happen to already devastated places, and you realize you’re much more fortunate and blessed than you may have first assumed… perspective is the word I’m looking for. And, along with compassion, I think we’ve all received a dose of perspective in large amounts these past few days.
This blog/website/what-have-you does not generate a lot of readers. At least not to my knowledge. If the few of you who drop by would like to extend a moment of compassion to those suffering in Haiti, let me direct you to a few places I’ve seen willing to help in the blog community:
There are also the usual suspects: American Red Cross, and hosts of others. A quick Google search will get you someplace in no time. A quick warning: While there isn’t a shortage of people willing to help, there are unimaginable swarms of pig snot creating fake organizations to steal your money. DO YOUR RESEARCH before you give.
The outreach pouring from these places is astonishing, and it makes me love the fact that I became involved in blogging just a little bit more. Even if I’m only a speck in the millions, I hope this speck helps the helpless right about now.
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