- If you want to read the first part of my Memoir please click here https://aparodyoflife.com/2015/08/21/moving-along-part-one-a-gypsy-heart/, moving-along-part-one-a-gypsy-heart .
- Don’t forget to come back, I have issues with abandonment.
I can’t remember my first address, I only know that it was a farm in the state of Iowa. It was here that I lived for a very short time wrapped up safe and sound in a family . My Mother, Father and baby me. That pretty little picture I just portrayed for you didn’t last long…..
My Mother hated the farm-house, hated the aloneness of it, hated the smell, hated the fly’s- ” oh the likes of fly’s you have never seen before in your life she would say:. She read in Cold blood for the first time when she lived in that farm-house, alone in bed at night while my father wandered about. Me sleeping in my crib just across the hall. She scared herself sleepless for a week, but never explained why she didn’t just put the book down if it scared her so much?
My Father loved the smell of money….so pig shit was right up his alley, whenever anyone complained about the smell of hogs he would say “ THAT, is the smell of money!”
He had a pet pig, one pig out of hundreds that he would feed candy bars and coke from the glass bottle every day. From all outside appearances my Father was connected to something, had a special place in his heart for one thing. Visited that pig every day, paid special attention to it, then just like that without a blink of an eye, loaded that hog in to the same trailer as the rest of them on market day.
Proof that if you thought you were special to my Dad, he was just grooming you for market day-
That pig weighed in the most of all the ones brought to market that day, the snicker bars I am sure. “ I often wonder if he tasted different on someone’s BBQ – you know a hint of caramel with an under tone of chocolate…. because that is the sort of stuff I wonder about.”
My Mother was beautiful , I don’t just say that, she had an hour-glass figure the likes of Marilyn Monroe and everyone loved her. It’s one thing to be physically beautiful, quite the other to have everyone love you and pretty much a miracle of the gods to be blessed with both.
Still to this day if you mention my Mother to anyone they all say the same thing ” I loved your mother”. People she met only once or twice in her life, played one game of cards with in Iowa 50 years ago have come up to me and they always say the same thing. ” Your Jeannie’s daughter, oh my please tell her we said Hello , we sure loved your Mom”.
My Father was movie star handsome, Robert Redford, Glen Campell were a few of the men he was referred to when people talked about his looks through the years. Still to this day if I talk about my Father to anyone of the female gender that knew him I always hear the same thing, ” I had such a crush on your Dad , he was such a handsome man.”
Here is where I should probably tell you that my brother sucked up all the beautiful genes of both of my parents, why is it that one sibling always gets the best of everything? Please don’t feel bad for me, you can see below that for all that I lacked I replaced with chocolate and that would never let me down…so in the end I won. Did you hear that little brother? That is right I WON, we can fight about it later.
Where my Mother’s personality was captivating, charismatic , magnetic, those words were never used synonymously when speaking about my Father’s. I dig deep when I try to find words to describe my dad’s personality , Unattainable, stoic, haunted, reserved.
When people talk about my Father now they say things like:
He was a great salesmen, he loved cars, he was a workaholic. ( those are words used to explain someone when you can’t put your finger on any part of their personality.)
I have many memories of my Mother in hysterical bouts of laughter with friends, family, co-workers, bending over trying to catch her breath moments. She loved to laugh, her joy was contagious. I only ever remember my Father’s laughter when he was around his brother, every year at our family picnic they would have a watermelon seed spitting contests and they would howl with laughter. I remember watching my Father when he laughed, how his nose crinkled and his eyes sparkled, the lines defined around his eyes and wondering if he knew how mesmerizing he was when he let down his guard.
To be continued, somewhere around here….
When I was three we moved to Nebraska, because Iowa wasn’t boring enough for my Mother I am sure.
My Mom and Dad bought a house, my Mom picked out all the colors Dad painted all the rooms just as she wanted.
And then he left her there alone, every single day in the sweltering heat of the flat state of Nebraska to rot.
She left him when my brother was two years old and never looked back.
She took our clothes and the car and drove to MN where we would live with my Grandparents until we got back on our feet.
He only came to look for her once, he drove to Minneapolis , tracked her down at a friend’s house and when she reluctantly came to the door, he asked only for the keys to his car.
He wanted the car back, Not his wife, not his kids, his car.
God, he loved his cars.
Sometimes there’s a part of me
Has to turn from here and go
Running like a child from these warm stars
Down the Seven Bridges Road
*The Eagles Live album 1980*