oh i have cousins in texas
cousins in florida
cousins in california
the rest are in ohio
im out here on the east coast
by myself
the way i like it
i talk to my dad every thursday
my sister, less often
my brother, never..
my aunts and uncle i see when i'm home.. sometimes.
my great uncle sib and aunt marthie i should make more of an effort to see. they aren't going to be around forever.
i'm not really all that close to my family
i cut my ties.
my friends here all have families.
i hear them say 'family is everything'
i look at them curiously
and they think i'm strange
i don't complain one iota about my family..
most of them know my ma has passed
my dad had a stroke at a young age
i have an older sister and a twin i don't care for.
nieces and a nephew.. those little pumpkin heads
what's interesting is that.. all my friends complain about these much cherished families.
and they think i'm strange.
if i had a family.
would i be complaining too?
i watch in wonder the grandpas and grandmas that drop off their precious cargo at my studio.
i shake my head at the mothers with 4 and 5 kids who are always running late..
there's one woman.. hats off to her.. 4 boys. wow. and her kid never misses a lesson.
there's the tuesday girls.. who drive me absolutely batty with their lack of attention.
there's troy who fights with me.. because he cant stand to make a mistake.
andre who takes lessons in a direction i never knew possible.. and I'M the teacher.
anna and kellie and christine and robert.. always prepared, respectful, and funny!!
helena, my little star
gabby and alexis my winners
charlie..
the list goes on
my students and a very few choice friends...
they are my family. and i'm kinda attached to them.. each and every one.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Family
I knew this essay about family was coming. JC and I had talked it over last week and wondered aloud about what family is.
I guess my grandfather digging the foundation for the addition to his house and taking in his daughter and her kids is as good a definition as family gets.
When my mother committed suicide, they had trouble placing my little sister. No one wanted to take her in. She ended up living with a boyfriend and his family. but they had put her out. We had heard of the death late, because we were out of town. I tracked her down and went and got her and brought her home to our house.
She was beside herself in grief and troubles and I couldn't connect with her, even though we were blood kin. We enrolled her in school, she refused to go. I spent $1000 to put her in a special school that had individualized programs, much like my son is in now. She ran away.
I had to let her go. She was a stranger to me. There was a desire to connect but not a way.
The day she left to live with yet another guy, I went out in the lawn and pulled out dandelions till the sun went down and my fingers were raw.
I hid that feeling of loss and went on.
You can choose people to add to and be your family. I choose my journal buddies as my brother and sisters.
I got my hubby and son, a small family that does not need a whole thanksgiving turkey. Son is growing up and transitioning to adulthood. He gets mad and says. "YOU aren't my MOM!" thanks kid love you too.
We may not be blood kin, but we ARE family.
I guess my grandfather digging the foundation for the addition to his house and taking in his daughter and her kids is as good a definition as family gets.
When my mother committed suicide, they had trouble placing my little sister. No one wanted to take her in. She ended up living with a boyfriend and his family. but they had put her out. We had heard of the death late, because we were out of town. I tracked her down and went and got her and brought her home to our house.
She was beside herself in grief and troubles and I couldn't connect with her, even though we were blood kin. We enrolled her in school, she refused to go. I spent $1000 to put her in a special school that had individualized programs, much like my son is in now. She ran away.
I had to let her go. She was a stranger to me. There was a desire to connect but not a way.
The day she left to live with yet another guy, I went out in the lawn and pulled out dandelions till the sun went down and my fingers were raw.
I hid that feeling of loss and went on.
You can choose people to add to and be your family. I choose my journal buddies as my brother and sisters.
I got my hubby and son, a small family that does not need a whole thanksgiving turkey. Son is growing up and transitioning to adulthood. He gets mad and says. "YOU aren't my MOM!" thanks kid love you too.
We may not be blood kin, but we ARE family.
The Plaque
In light of recent reports about Marine misbehavior, I offer this story...It is an explanation of how my son happened to end up with an official Nigerian Embassy Plaque about the size of a manhole cover made of wood and painted in silver. It hung proudly in his bedroom from the time he was fourteen until he packed it to move when he was twenty-one.
As a dependent of a US Government employee working overseas, fourteen year old Rajan was allowed to visit his father once a year, expenses paid by the US. He came back with the plaque which, I had always heard, Marines had taken from the old Embassy when the new one was under construction. Because they liked Rajan, and he enjoyed hanging out with them, they gave it to him. Somehow, I had always figured they must have been a little tipsy to even get the idea to take something so clearly not theirs! But, my daughter sent this explanation recently when I came upon the plaque. I quote:
The Marines weren't drunk. They wouldn't have risked that, if they were. They were bored, which can be even worse. A few of then got dressed up in their night fatigues with black face paint, and went over to the Nigerian governmental building. It was located several blocks from the Marine house and right next door to the US Embassy. It was the middle of the night, like three in the morning. The Nigerian Embassy was always guarded by several heavily armed Nigerian Police. Machine guns, that kind of heavily armed! And, the Marines ran up to the front of the building and pulled the plaque off the exterior wall of the front gates. They were just screwing around, but probably also testing their skills and perhaps making a point to the Nigerians; that they could do that and not be detected by the guards.
This happened just after the time that the Nigerian Government had held a big ceremony, complete with a cheering (obviously paid ) crowd of Nigerians, to rename the street that the US Embassy was on, from the Ileki Crescent to Louis Farraken Crescent. Farraken was an anti-Semite critic of the United States Government. So, this was perceived as a "f-you US" statement to which the US Embassy released a communique thanking the Nigerian government for the honor of naming the street after an American. I guess the Marines felt like adding a little "F-you" back at them. At any rate, it definitely was not an approved or official operation. I'm not sure their sergeant knew about it afterwards, or if he would have cared, if he had known. Raj thought it extremely cool that they pulled off that manuever and they gave him the plaque a couple of days after they did it.
This little story is enlightening because you can see these trained soldiers for what they are...bored humans who feel they've been slighted. And, you can see the governments act as they do under the guise of politeness (and a lot of F-You). It's sad I'm not sure who are more petty , the soldiers or the governments. It is of note that by giving this 'treasure' to my adoring son they managed to get all evidence of the crime removed from their barracks to behind the safety of the embassy and, eventually, to my son's wall back in the States!
As a dependent of a US Government employee working overseas, fourteen year old Rajan was allowed to visit his father once a year, expenses paid by the US. He came back with the plaque which, I had always heard, Marines had taken from the old Embassy when the new one was under construction. Because they liked Rajan, and he enjoyed hanging out with them, they gave it to him. Somehow, I had always figured they must have been a little tipsy to even get the idea to take something so clearly not theirs! But, my daughter sent this explanation recently when I came upon the plaque. I quote:
The Marines weren't drunk. They wouldn't have risked that, if they were. They were bored, which can be even worse. A few of then got dressed up in their night fatigues with black face paint, and went over to the Nigerian governmental building. It was located several blocks from the Marine house and right next door to the US Embassy. It was the middle of the night, like three in the morning. The Nigerian Embassy was always guarded by several heavily armed Nigerian Police. Machine guns, that kind of heavily armed! And, the Marines ran up to the front of the building and pulled the plaque off the exterior wall of the front gates. They were just screwing around, but probably also testing their skills and perhaps making a point to the Nigerians; that they could do that and not be detected by the guards.
This happened just after the time that the Nigerian Government had held a big ceremony, complete with a cheering (obviously paid ) crowd of Nigerians, to rename the street that the US Embassy was on, from the Ileki Crescent to Louis Farraken Crescent. Farraken was an anti-Semite critic of the United States Government. So, this was perceived as a "f-you US" statement to which the US Embassy released a communique thanking the Nigerian government for the honor of naming the street after an American. I guess the Marines felt like adding a little "F-you" back at them. At any rate, it definitely was not an approved or official operation. I'm not sure their sergeant knew about it afterwards, or if he would have cared, if he had known. Raj thought it extremely cool that they pulled off that manuever and they gave him the plaque a couple of days after they did it.
This little story is enlightening because you can see these trained soldiers for what they are...bored humans who feel they've been slighted. And, you can see the governments act as they do under the guise of politeness (and a lot of F-You). It's sad I'm not sure who are more petty , the soldiers or the governments. It is of note that by giving this 'treasure' to my adoring son they managed to get all evidence of the crime removed from their barracks to behind the safety of the embassy and, eventually, to my son's wall back in the States!
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