Chapter 2

I was born in a small rural community to poor farmers of German descent. Children were taught to honor and obey. No one stepped out of the Catholic norms for fear of isolation and disgrace. There was much ridicule and gossip. Half the town was protestant and the other half was Catholic with Catholic schools and church. A Catholic doctor, bank, grocery store and tavern.
I walked the line. I did what I was told. I didn't understand why anyone would pick on a kid. I did the best I could. I was very lonely and when I started school in the first grade at the Catholic school I was very afraid, not be socially conditioned, and shy. I immediately had a crush on one of the girls who lived in town. I definitely had a crush on the eight grader who came to my aid when I tripped and slide down the sidewalk and skinned my knees and elbows. I didn't cry from the pain; I cried because she was so sweet to me and concerned. I wanted her to hold me; although at the time I couldn't put thoughts are words to the feeling. But, my heart ached and I wanted her to hold me close and love me. I immediately fell in love with her. Just like I did the very kind and loving doctor who was tender and kind towards me many years later in my fifties as I was going through transition and moving away from a long term relationship and separately from my family. There was a time in my twenties when I just needed to be held so badly. At that time, families didn't hug and my girlfriends didn't hug. There was a guy one night who walked me to my car and as if he sensed what I needed, he hugged me. I remember my whole body ached to be hugged and he hugged me until I let go first. Inside I was crying because I didn't quit understand the reason life was the way it was; why I loved woman but was supposed to be with a man. I thought I was the only female who had this problem. I wasn't butch, so I thought that I can't be queer.

When I was a little kid, we lived five miles out of town down a dusty rock road and the wind would blow the dust on my mother's freshly washed clothes she had hanging on the line to dry. I remember her anger. I somehow felt everything was my fault. Or was it helplessness that I felt? Anyway, I felt powerless. I remember times too when my mother told my father now to pee out in the yard where I could see. This made me feel weird and singled me out as if I did something wrong.

I remember riding in the backseat of the maroon 1946 Ford and I could heard the rock bounce up and hit the underside of the car. The dust curled in from the wrecked spot where I mother cut in too soon and clipped a couple's brand new Pontiac they had just purchased at the dealership in town. They stood in horror as my mother wrecked the front end of their new car that they hadn't even driven away yet. I sat silently in the backseat that day. And watched the commotion. I was scared as my uncle came running from the barbershop across the street with the barber's cape still on and blowing like a cape in the wind. The whole event made quite a story to be told for years to come. My mother was a no fault driver; somehow that accident was their fault.

When I first started school in the Fall I was afraid and didn't now anyone. It seems all the girls had their friends already and I knew no one. I was just supposed to join in I guess but I felt scared and isolated so I headed towards my brother who was very social and talking to a group of boys as they ate lunch. He promptly dismissed me and in front of them told me to go away. I was mortified and cried as I wandered back to the girls area and stood near another lonely country girl who didn't know anyone. I was heart broken. I thought for sure my own brother who was a year older who talk to me. Maybe I was just too sensitive. My ex used to tell me I was too sensitive and gave me self-help books to read.

As a kid as school when I did gained a little more confidence it was soon wrecked when one day in daily morning religion class the priest lectured the class. I was once again mortified. He walked up and down the aisle; a big tall gray haired man in all black who smelled of cigars and shook his finger and looked right at me and said that it was a sin to put my hands between my legs. It scared me half to death. I did not discuss or repeat this activity to anyone. How did he know? It was a dreadful day and I worried about it for a long time wondering if my mother knew and told on me. Years later I had problems when I was with a man in achieving orgasm and I didn't know where the problem laid. I sometimes felt that maybe I might had been molested and blocked it. I associated a lack of trust with my sexual problems. I don't know if I felt violated or that I didn't deserve to be loved. I don't know? All I know is that I had not a clue as to how to give or receive love. I thought men just wanted sex. I longed for the love of a woman.

Soon after the first grade ended and during the summer we moved to another small community about ten miles away and I had to meet a whole new set of kids the next Fall. I remember feeling very lonely again and staring out the bus window and my brother who was loud and social making fun of me and telling mom that I was weird and should turn and talk to the kids because they thought I was stuck-up. It seemed I was always wrong in my behavior in social settings. I was shy. Every morning I would make it to school when before I would get sick on the bus. I was feeling sick is why I wasn't social. After I did get sick on the bus the driver always made sure when I got on that I would sit in front of the bus. He made a kid get up and move to the back. Again, another older girl was very sweet to me that morning I got sick and I cried because she was so kind. I immediately loved her and in my heart wanted her to hold me too. But, that morning, I felt sick and embarrassed and scared and thought that I would be in trouble for causing a commotion. I was afraid that I disappointed my mother and she wouldn't like me no more. Years later, I put the thoughts into motion that her love was conditional on my obeying her and doing just want she wanted. If I didn't go good then she wouldn't like me and I was already feeling alone. My father never spoke or associated with me; only to correct or scold or belittle me. I was afraid of him. He was big and I only came up to his knees in height. I was always afraid to ask him for anything even years later like when I wanted air pumped into my tires. I always wanted mom to ask him for me and she would say. "You ask him." and I was always afraid and he was glad that I was afraid. I could tell because he laughed at me and acted like it was a big inconvenience for him to do that for me. So, I tried never to have to ask him for anything. Years later when I was near high school age I sword that I would be independent and have a good job so I would never have to ask them for anything; because, I always got the feeling that I dare not and that my parents never wanted to give me anything. Besides by high school I never wanted to owe them anything and have them come back to me and tell me what they had to do for me. I bought my own first car. I never went to college; of course, they thought I wasn't college material long before high school anyway. I was told by them that I was destined to be like them. My life was all mapped out anyway. I was supposed to get married and I thought that day when my mother said that "no way" would I marry and live like her - under a man's thumb. They fought all the time and he never did anything for her or anything she wanted to do. I had thought for years that they should get divorced and then mom and I could move into town close to my friends and the beauty shop where she worked. But, she was stubborn and would never leave him. She pretended to society that she was happily marriages when she wasn't. It was a disgrace to be divorced. All I know is that I would have been much happier living in town and not out there where I was isolated and only surrounded by their fighting and arguing and my loneliness. I was trapped. It seems my brother was always running off with the boys in the neighborhood. There was nothing but boys around. Boys had much more freedom then girls. Boys were favored to carry on the family name. Girls were taught to always allow the boy to win at whatever activity was going on and to make him think all ideas were his. I hated that and really felt that I was worthless and didn't matter at all. Certainly, my feelings or ideas were not important. Girls were taught to be docile and subservient and walk behind men. I use to hate to see women following a few steps behind the man. I especially hated it when young men did it to me.

When I was a kid isolated out there in the country on the farm I spent many days alone in the summer as my mother worked in her beauty shop in town and dad in the fields. I learned to be almost content alone. When my mother was home I was constantly by her side waited for the next command. It seems she couldn't fix a meal without my assistance. She was always barking commands. When I would ever leave the room to do myself in my room or anything I would know that in a few minutes she would be calling my name and asking what I was doing and where was I and couldn't I come help her with something. I had no life for myself! Finally, I just stayed in the room and stood there leaning against the freezer waited for my next command. I never bothered to sit down because she always had me jumping up to get something or do something. It drove me nuts.

And as a kid I had no opinion. Kids were not to speak their opinion or talk back; a smack in the face would follow if that were done. Yes, I got spankings from dad and hollered at from mom. By the time I was a freshman in high school I was wishing that I was dead. In high school I used to wish that they would just pretend that I didn't exist. I know that changing hormones played a big part in my emotions too at the time. I remember feeling dizzy when I got up fast or raised my head fast..or just getting out of the car.

I always thought that I wanted to be a boy because boy were valued and got some many more privileges than girl. Girls were sissy and stupid - well most of them. I didn't want to be like them. Little did I know that I was gaining knowledge by observing my parents and brother and I vowed the man would make an ass of me and that I would be independent and never marry. My mother too killed any decide I might have had about having kids. I hated kids. I had no love in me to give...I was drained. I could only manage self-preservation that even at the time I didn't know or could put terms to what I was experiencing or feeling. I know one day when my "sister" had boyfriends stop by out at the farm. My mother told me not to hide in the house and be backward. I had no interest in those boys. My sister was boy crazy. She got to live in town with my grandmother who by the the way was as cold as a fish. I never got any love or hugs from her either. My sister had fun and went to basketball games and dances and was popular and had many friends. I only saw my friend during school time. Of course I was four years younger. When finally I was sixteen and got my drivers license then on Sunday, I could take the car the three miles into town and visit friends who would call me once in a while when (and they made it clear) they needed a car and driver so they could ride around and flirt with boys. The kids in town got to walk to the malt shop. I was so jealous.

My escape was the music at the time; the rock and roll. There was only AM radio and two good stations that played good music. For eighth grade graduation my got a transistor radio and it was my pride and joy. I would take long walks in the evening out on the field roads and daydream when I listened to the music that "she" loved me. Oh, just anyone, that I had a crush on at the time - that she would love me. And I was her hero. I saved her life time and time again and she loved me. Yes, life was terribly lonely. My daydreams and imagination kept me going. There was no such thing as social services then or anti-depressants for kids. The only time we went to town was when my mom wanted to visit my aunt (actually, my half-sister. I never know who her father was. I never asked). I do remember though that we had more fun when my "aunt" was around. My mom laughed and played more and we got more treats. When my aunt was in high school and going steady with her finance' she would come out on weekend to clean the house for money. We never had a relationship; not an aunt to niece or sister to sister relationship. I was more of a nuisance then anything. One day she slapped me after I was becoming more comfortable around her and teased her with an ice cube on the back of her neck like my brother used to get away with. Well, she didn't think it was humorous at all and hurled around and slapped me on the face. I was in shock. Well, it was my fault because I didn't realize that she was having a spat with her boyfriend and he had just driven up the lane and had turned around without coming to the door and was leaving again. Anyway, I guess I picked the wrong time to be funning around. That splat killed the playfulness in me with her. I kept my distance. I truly believed that there was something really wrong with me and I couldn't get along with anyone. So, I became more isolated and kept quiet.

When my sister got married I was in the wedding party. I didn't want to be. I certainly didn't want to wear that ugly bright blue green dress and those stupid dyed shoes that matched. I rode in the car with a friend of the grooms. He was nice enough; but we didn't talk. He was about six years older than me. I was just becoming a freshman. Anyway, my brother scolded me at one of the taverns we stopped at and said that from the car he was in following us he could see that I wasn't talking and that I should talk me. Again, I felt like a total failure. It seemed everything was my fault and I couldn't do anything right. I was a total fish out of water. So, I guess about then I learned to make more of an effort to strike up conversation and do what was expected of me. I was totally not being myself. I was in a way taught that everyone else was more important. Everyone elise's' feelings we more important than mine. I got so used to hearing "what would people think". That line was my mother's litany or mantra. My brother and sister fit right in I and dad were the weirdest ones. Mom hated dad because he never wanted to go anywhere with her or do what she wanted him to do.

One day I guess I was just in high school she was cooking or clearing the table right after breakfast and they were arguing and she said. "I just want to take a knife and stick it in him and twist it." I thought holy cow.. why doesn't she divorce him. She made all the money that went into school things and the house. God knows I heard that argument time and time again. My parents were always arguing over money. Mom said the little bit he made farming he put right back into the farm. She was never happy! My dad was happy if everyone let him alone. Soon he began to sit up late at night and drink and smoke cigarettes and could have burned the house down around me..the living room was under my bedroom; but, I was lucky when he fell asleep his dropped cigarette only burned a spot on the carpet. I was always afraid.

Seems like my half-sister and my brother were normal and social. They were big hits with my mother who was soon planning a wedding for my half-sister. They were crazy about her boyfriend. I was pretty much on the side lines and that was the way I liked it. My dad used to sit at night, sometimes all night and drink. When I was twenty-one and would go out at night he would be sitting up when I got home and in the morning still up sitting there in the living room with the TV turned down so low there was no way he could even hear it. But, in the morning, still drunk he would accuse me of whoring. My mother never held up for me or came to my defense. I think she was glad he yelled at me. I don't know why. But, I know she took pleasure in it. She never take my side.

Even when I was about seven or eight years old and let the German Shepard loose because he begged to be let loose and want to play she never held up for me or tried to stop dad from beating the dog to death while he made me watch. We had little pigs and after I played with the dog I guess I got distracted and the dog went over to the pig pens and jump in and killed two little pigs. I dad was irate and made me hold the dog. I asked him what he was going to do as he was walking to the shed and he said teach the dog and me a lesson. He made me hold the dog by the collar as he walked to the shed. I had no idea he was going to come back with a big heavy iron hammer. I was frozen with fear. He then took the dog from me and held the dog between his legs and began beating the dog on the head. The dog looked at me like "what did I do". Again it was all my fault. He beat and beat and beat the dog until there was blood and he was tired of beating. My mother and half-sister sat in the house hidden with her little beagle she lived with in town with my grandmother. She was out visiting. My mother had that same smirk on her face later when I came into the house. She never came to my defense. I had stood frozen in fear and sincerely thought that I would be beaten with the hammer next. Because he told me to stand there. I thought I was next in line for a lesson. He let the semi-conscious dog lie there until he died. I was in shock. For many years I couldn't tell anyone what happened that evening. I was too ashamed! I said when I did finally tell one of my boyfriends that it was my fault I let the dog loose. My dad lost me totally the day he accused me of being a whore and I walked away from him and he commanded me to come back and I didn't. That was the last straw I hated him after that and had no sympathy or pity for him when he became sick all though my mother commanded me for years each Sunday to visit him in the nursing home. I hated him and I hated her. I never shed one tear when he died. I was in my early forties when he died.