My Mother would
tell stories of how her Mother was rich for awhile as a little girl. Mom would
drag out pictures of her Mother standing next to her, my Great Grandmother.
In every photo she would look beautiful, her hair done up and a fur coat was draped over her shoulders. I never saw a picture of her Father. When I asked my Mom about this, she would roll her eyes and say, “Who do you think is taking the picture?”
In every photo she would look beautiful, her hair done up and a fur coat was draped over her shoulders. I never saw a picture of her Father. When I asked my Mom about this, she would roll her eyes and say, “Who do you think is taking the picture?”
My Grandmother
would see these pictures of her childhood and mist up. We all knew that her
Father died in the great influenza epidemic of 1918, leaving her and her Mother
penniless. If her Father was mentioned, my Grandmother would drift off into her
own world, cover her mouth with the back of her hand and a girlish giggle would
leave her mouth. She was always seven years old in her mind.
My Mothers Father
was my Grandmothers second wife. The first wife was never mentioned. It was a
scandal to be the second wife of a divorced man in those days. We were told to
never ask my Grandparents about that story, ever, period. Even if it looked as
if you were approaching a similar story in the presence of my Grandparents, my
Mother would shoot you down with a look.
My Grandfather
was a very handsome and strong man. He had raised his family in Syracuse New
York. They had survived the depression, so everything in their house was
reused. Use a paper towel, hang it out to dry. Want a chip? Then unwrap the
rubber bands from the bag! Found mold in the cheese? Cut it out!
It was a
fascinating house of rules and secrets. If you travelled too far with your
questions though, you might get a pinch that twists skin and leaves a bruise
from Mom or Grandma.
My Mother was
very close and saw her parents a lot. Christmas wasn’t Christmas if we didn’t
wait at the top of the stairs for Grandpa to come out of the bathroom. Hours
would pass after he went in. We would try to push each other in there after he
would emerge.
Mom was always
being put down by my Grandmother, either over the phone or in person. Nothing
she did could ever rise to her level if it was done by my Mother. When my
Grandparents would return home from visiting us, my Mother would slide into a
funk. She would take daily naps for hours opening her door to scream at us. She
would have her pre-cocktail in the middle of the afternoon and more at 5pm.
The biggest
threat to me was always “Wait until your Father Gets home.” If she was really
mad at me, she would call him at work. Mom tended to embellish stories, so when
Dad would arrive home he was furious as hell and ready to kill. I remember
beatings so bad with a belt that I would black out.
I also learned at
a very early age to feel nothing. I would shut down and not feel pain, not feel
emotions, just not feel anything. This would make them crazy and my Mom would
stand at the door and egg my Father on to beat me again.
Sometimes I would
enter a black hole where I would come out of it and not remember much of
anything that had just happened. My Mom’s rules were just that, her rules. She
was a completely different person when my Father wasn’t home and when he would
arrive she would play the victim in the house.
Once, my Mother
had so embellished a story to my Grandfather, that he grabbed me around the
throat and began to strangle me. He was so angry he didn’t realize that I
couldn’t breathe as he repeatedly banged my head on the wall.
When he let me
slide to the floor, I could see my Mom standing in the hall with a smirk on her
face. Then she reached over and shut my bedroom door.
To be
continued…..
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.
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