I don’t know whether it’s because I’ve been thinking too much or if it’s just that witch old age, but I find myself reflecting more on some past events. Which on the surface, seemed plain and simple.
Upon reflection and evaluation however (and with added information that I didn’t have at the time),they seem much more signifigant in what they represent.
Take for instance the family dynamic, two parents with children (four in this case). Growing up, a person sees their parents in specific roles and/or having certain traits and things that both parents do, could do and would not do.
Our household could have been described as dysfunctiional. The father figure wasn’t much of one. There was no “wait til your father gets home” threat ever issued from my mom. He just didn’t inspire fear nor respect. Those of you who’ve read previous posts or know me, know all about the Dickard. For those who have not, in a nut shell he was a male so-called head of house, with little drive or ambition other than chasing the all mighty dollar. He wasn’t affectionate and he didn’t offer praise. He was just there. There as a source of insecurity, tension and uncertaint.y He was no “Charles Ingalls” or ” John Walton”
My mom was a stay-at-home mom. She cooked, cleaned chopped wood (even while pregnant) and did a number of other activities to keep the family as cohesive and to give us the most security she could. She also did what others would describe as “the man’s jobs” around the house. Mostly because Dickard wouldn’t or just wasn’t around to do them. Nevermind the fact he probably would have fucked them up anyhow. My siblings and myself for the most part, had that normal sibling dynamic. We’d argue fight, have fun and so on.
Dickard and my mom had a contentions relationship. there would be times of little or no conflict. Then there would be times when the arguing seemed non-stop and on the verge of physical violence (not counting the rake incident). Those times can blend together in memory though certain things like my mom crying, mom being extremely testy do stick out.
As do the occasions she’d fire up the phonograph and throw on Heart’s “If Looks Could Kill” because she was so pissed off. Mom was a strong woman and for her to cry-it took a lot to get her to that point. Mom usually held her emotions in check. As she’d been through a lot of hell from her years with Dickard and before she married him in the Marines, so knew how to.
Between the parental arguements, the trying to make ends meet to survive and life in general there were always rumblings and rumors in our small town about ‘unworthy acts’ by Dickard around town. Those ranged from stealing, lying to Infidelity. Most of those ‘rumors’ surrounding ill-gotten gains ( by a con or otherwise) were usually taken as mostly true considering his past record. He stole from us kids so stealing from others wasn’t that far-fetched. Lying was a gven and Infidelity, turns out was true, as well. Though how many times only God knows for certain as I’m betting Dickard is by now too senile to recall the correct number. Somethings he did you knew he’d do from habit or by what was happening in life at the time, but there were a lot of things he kept secret (or did his best to try to.).
Turns out mom had her secrets too. Ones that never would have occured to me while growing up. But on reflection and knowing my mom as an adult it’s not surprising they did.
(…to be continued.)
