The brink

666th post, awesome!
Today as I was preparing my breakfast not thinking about much but for the mundane of getting ready for the day ahead, like a shot, it dawned on me that I am terrified of people getting mad at me, and that I do a tremendous amount of to avoid that at all costs.
Presently, it's with my husband and before him, boyfriends, but ultimately it was to avoid my Dad's arbitrary rage that might be unleashed at the drop of a hat.
Sure as adults we know that someone being angry shouldn't be that troubling, but with the echo of experiences from childhood that are the root of the fear, there is no logic that eclipses that gut feeling.
I know that Jacob articulated that this week when he called me at work and told me that the toilet had overflowed; he didn't have his glasses on, he was late for work, and he had to enlist his father who set loose a screaming frenzy of blame, accusations and incriminations to his child who just had to pee. Albeit, we have intricately demonstrated the process of stopping that overflow, but in the case of the unawares, there is no cause to make it seem a malfeasance. But, we do, yes us. Me the person who also has managed to yet again repeat the most hated of hated.

The wonder of this feeling

It's been a formidable week. I've kind of gone off the sugar, which without any exaggeration is my heroin, and subsequently I've had the clarity to face some real truths, mostly about relationships and parenting. Just some light fare to start the day.
I've failed as far as I can tell. Coming out of the gate, 21 or so years ago, I had all the gumption in the world to challenge most everything of my own upbringing and unfortunately I'd been delusional and thought this boss would not be the same as the old one.
Well, it's not quite the same, Eamon and I have added our own various weaknesses, leanings, and taints.
Did we do a more inadequate job than the people that came before us, no, but we did manage to fuck a lot of shit up nevertheless.
I can't speak for him, and won't try to reconcile his issues, but what I will do is say that I'm disappointed that the predominant memories, at least for my oldest son, are not positive ones. They are a confused mess of his problems and my own that never got worked out or dealt with because every time we tried something, either medical or behavioral, he did everything in his power to challenge it.
Regardless, the point is I was the parent, no matter what he tried or didn't, I should, and could have done a better job.

Before they went gold

In the usual ways, I am still going back and forth about the visit with my folks. One thing that keeps surfacing is that they talk a lot about resentments from the past.
One of those is my Mom and her sister who did not talk for a number of years before her death in 2008. Unfortunately, that leaves a lot of stuff unsaid, important issues unresolved and lifetime hurts that will remain. And, I think that's the point; there is something to hold onto if you don't let go. Great Country song title, but a serious problem for lots of us. I am certainly guilty of hanging on to things that don't exist, but resentment is not at the top of the list, so I did get to lecture on that, and may have been marginally successful, but most likely it was forgotten like the last meal or movie.
I told them they get to choose how they feel about some things and that they can make it a slight or feel maligned, or not. It is up to them.
That was not an automatic setting for them or me, and it should be. We can determine based on lessons learned, or by watching how through generations things remain unspoken but ever present, and how a word or two can change everything.

It would have been enough

With the visit from my parents over, and the decompression process in full swing, I've had time to reflect on some of the events, one of which I will share.
Monday, we went to visit my Grandmother's grave, set between Southgate USA and a Mr. Chicken, on the far east side of Cleveland. In that we are exceedingly economical with our geographic usage, we decided also to visit Tommy's for lunch. It is one place that my parents still remember from their almost twenty years here.
We went in and waited for a bit because I requested that we sit in a booth in order to curtail any inappropriate behavior on my Mother's part.
As we were just about to be seated my Mom said, "who is that man, I know him, he just waved at me." Background time; everywhere we go, my mom either knows someone or sees something none of the rest of us do. We are used to it and go along with the script.
So, as we are walking past the table where her alleged acquaintance was sitting, I happened to look over, into the deeply penetrating eyes of Geraldo Rivera. He of course thought that my mom was staring at him because he is famous when in fact she just stares at people, usually long enough to either make them uncomfortable or to illicit some sort of response.
I texted Gus the 411 and he promptly challenged the sighting, and after piecing it together, that he would be here to celebrate Passover with his wife's family, the story unfolded like a spring flower, and established that my mother did actually know someone for once. Amen.

To last a lifetime

My entire family was here this weekend to go see Jack Henry in his high school production of the Wizard of Oz. He played the Monkey General and pulled it off in both a threatening and hilarious way. Bringing my Mom made me a little nervous in that I felt that at any minute she might jump on stage and join the chorus, or lead the band. But, she remained seated for the duration, only yelled and sang a couple of times and managed not to offend or scare anyone. A few days ago, Jack came home and told us his biology teacher had resigned because she was having a relationship with a student in one of her classes. That student is a member of the band that was playing last night. As I watched him, I thought about how for now and forever he would be known only for that experience. That whenever he runs into a classmate or is talked about, it would be for only one thing. I guess that's not uncommon, that we categorize or limit a person's volume, especially if we don't know them apart from what we know them for.

Allow me to make this

What does it take to make an amazing, simple and powerful piece of work? It's relative I reckon. There will be occasion where viewers or readers think; I can do this myself, or I could have done a better job than that. But, with that simplicity and natural progression comes a genesis that is unique enough to the event to make it happen. An example for me would be Alamar. This is a movie that Eamon and I saw a preview to when we went to the Cinematheque to see Valhalla Rising. Alamar was playing the same night and the possibility of us staying for another movie was completely out of the question, I was just grateful to be there for one. John Ewing does a short preview or analysis before movies, and when he spoke about Alamar being one of the best naturalistic titles he'd seen, I lamented not being able to devote hours or days to all that he makes possible for us here in the boscage. We watched it a few nights ago on DVD and of course there is that size thing. It is a wonderful movie, with the power to make viewers recognize what we've lost; not in a way that makes us feel bad, just in a way that is clear.

Pass by life

Monsters, a movie that successfully combines social commentary, love and , well monsters, managed to embody what a film can be if it doesn't try too hard. I try too hard; I do. To be smart, knowledgeable, down with the lingo and the tunes and lastly to be young. If I really want maintain that, I'm going to have to submit to a human growth hormone regime, so I guess I should probably give up on at least some of it. Jake has told us that he plans to move out at the beginning of next month. We've advised him, cajoled and suggested that he not sign a lease or make a commitment until he is sure he is ready. Of course, he ignored all of that and now has both a financial and legal obligation to move in with people he is unsure of and has been having second thoughts about. I started to try and explain to him that he needed to keep his word and make the effort. And then, I thought about my own past situations with roommates and of trying to do the right thing as much as possible, subsequently, I said nothing, except, "don't take my word for it."

Wrapped up for lunch

Sorry to do this to the avid reader of IATM, but I've written a poem and it's time to share. I live and breath the grey, it's a part of me, the very heart of me... Okay I'm done. There is no poem, there are no words to describe the wasted days that the grey evokes. It just seems endless, and such a joke in that the just a tiny bit above the clouds there is blue sky. Sometimes, things are out of reach. No matter how deserving we might think we are, or how ready, it's just not going to happen. There have been a few examples this week in how our luck as a clan, is going; Jake got a new job at probably the most popular and hipster friendly restaurant in the area. He is doing very basic stuff but willing to start there in order to learn, and hopefully move up. On his way to work the other morning, though he claims he was not late, he was pulled over for speeding and given a ticket. That ticket will cost him his first week's pay. Gus, bought a text book with a paycheck that had just been placed in his checking account. Apparently, he acted too soon and more than half of it went for overdraft fees. This type of thing has happened to us and everyone countless times, including in our case, spending entire bonuses on veterinary bills, car repairs and anything that can drain an extra few dollars that might have come our way. I know taking it personally, making it a "this is not fair" diatribe is not going to change the determination of things, but at least it's not a quatrain.