Crossing the Creek

Our house was the second one on our road. Across the street was pasture, corn fields or whatever the owners of the land decided to plant. I can't say I paid that much attention to what was growing.. other than weeds that were waist high by the ditch. If you drove on past our house, about six blocks length down.. you would come to a split where you could turn right and this just made a big circle and met with the straight road again about three blocks up. Of course the road ran on in a little deeper and farther from the highway.. and we knew everyone who lived in this little area.

Behind my house at the edge of our two acres there was a creek. Low, never rising much above shin deep unless we had torential rains over a few days.. by the time we wandered back down there it had receeded back to its normal state.. which was either dry or low, as described before. Once you cross the creek you turn left and head down and across the field and eventually.. well about five minutes later actually.. you will end up in the first bend of the circle. There were four houses in this circle. Our trail came out beside the first one.

This was a little white house where a spinster sister lived with her bachelor brother. Neither of them obviously ever married and pretty much kept to themselves. We weren't particularly scared of these old folks.. but weren't exactly running up to see them when they were out. Next door to them lived what would turn out to be one of my best friends. A.. and her brother D. A was a year younger than me,, and D was a year older than me. Next to them was where my cousins lived. The parents were my cousins too as mother was an only child. N and S were the kids. N a guy and S a girl. N was our age and played part of the group. ( We ended up living in this house many years later till the tragedy happened). Next to my cousins were their parents, my great aunt and uncle. More tenderly known as Stricky and Nandad. This completed the circle. This was what made up the core of the neighborhood kids. On a couple other side roads were B and J.. they completed the group.

I normally tried to go to A's house and spend time there because my parents were normally fighting about something.. and if they weren't there was enough tension in the air to make me more uncomfortable than I cared for. So the trail across the creek became pretty worn. At some point A's dad and mine decided that put up two huge building logs to go across the creek so we wouldn't have to climb down in it each time and also so the four wheelers we all had would cross as well. These logs also eliminated the need to walk or ride up the road to the other's house. So if you can imagine about the distance between the houses in a straight line was approximately a half mile.. you can guesstimate the time it took to get from point A to point B.

When I remember hot summer days back then, I can hardly say that the days seemed as scorching as they are now. Then again, maybe its just my age making it feel so hot. I just know that we stayed outside from sun up till sun down every single day.. unless of course it was raining. Rainy days were especially awful then as I hated playing by myself. I had my little sister.. but at the time she could have disappeared and I would have been thrilled. God how we tortured her back then. The one particular day I remember, I recall almost everything except where my sister was at the time.

A and I had wandered over to the field on her side of the creek and were considering dragging some old logs over to a spot and build us a fort. Walking around we were hunting for a good place to make home base. We talked and walked, but in a moment of silence we heard voices. Voices in the distance. Not being able to make it out at first, I panicked thinking mom or dad was calling for me because I forgot to tell them where I was at. Instead upon listening further, we both realized that it was indeed my father yelling.. only not for me... but at mother. Let's not forget .. we are roughly a half mile away and still hear his screams. As soon as we made out what was being said with the cursing and all flying through the air, I contemplated whether I should go home or stay on longer. I reasoned that since he was on the war path, I should probably go home to keep from him finding a reason to yell at me because I was gone. So off I went.

By the time I was walking up the backyard towards the door they had gone back inside but for only a few moments. As soon as I came with in sight of the backdoor I saw mother come rushing out and seemingly jump from the top tier of the porch to the lower. Stumbling a bit, I ran on up to see if she was ok, only to realize she had been thrown out of the house. Literally. It was a wonder she landed on her feet. She said to me once I was noticed, "just go inside honey.. go into your room and play, I will call you when supper is ready".. so that's what I did.

I scurried to my room and started praying that I wouldn't be his next target. I mean its not like he needed a reason or anything. As I sat on my bed just staring into space and wondering what would happen next. He came storming up the hallway and screamed to me.. "ITS OVER!! Me and your mother are getting a divorce!!" Well I broke down and cried. Even then I kinda wondered why I was crying. Wouldn't life be better without that monster around? But I think I cried more out of sheer terror of his yelling than the actual news. And who knows, maybe a part of those tears were tears of joy that he was leaving. All I know is that he packed a suitcase and left that night. At the time I didn't know where he went, be it a motel or friends house. I later came to find out where he was probably spending his time, and well let's just say she was more than a friend. Mother had known all along, hence the fighting.

As the next day dawned I found myself wondering again, who will cross the creek today? I think she should come here today. We could play and romp today without worry or fear. I guess it just goes without saying that all of my friends were scared of him too. I wasn't the type of kid that was ashamed of their parents being a total mess.. I just took it as it came. Since I was a chubby child, I learned early on that people are gonna like me for me.. or not at all.. regardless of my size.. OR my parents. And so it was.. A came over and we proceeded to play all day in my playhouse. Talking only briefly about the monster being gone and how much time we would have before we were in a state of fear again. If and when he came back... well then it would be my turn to Cross the Creek.

In her words....

"And the truth shall set you free". 
 
" Well that all depends on who you ask and especially what truth you are revealing.  I have learned that there are many truths that will set you free, don't get me wrong. But I will bare witness to the fact that some truth will turn your world upside down and be very unforgiving. 
 
This is a story about truth. 
 
 The truth about abuse, honesty, love, lies, sexuality, and freedom.  The truth about a girls life and her journey to find her truth.
 
 I will not start with the year that I was born or describe the twinkle in my mothers eyes when I arrived.  Rather, I will begin with when I actually remember things.  I will start with my father since he is the epitamy of memories, coming and going without rhyme or reason. He towered over me at about six feet three inches and varied in weight depending on the season.  The summer always colored his skin deep copper and his muscle definition was much more noticable.  In the winter he would fatten up just like a pig and I eventually would hope he would be Thanksgiving dinner for some starving family, but that explanation will come later. 
 
 First I will tell you how in love with this man that I was.  I always compared him to superman.  Tall, strong, dark hair, brown eyes, perfect teeth, and a nose like Elvis Presley.  In his older 20's early 30's and his thin stage, he was handsome.  All that masculinity and a shadow that consisted of me, a four year-old brown haired, brown eyed, skinned knees little girl; tomboy on top of that.  I adored that man and for a while he did me.  To this day I remember his smell.  The mix of oil from his garage, fresh cut grass, beer and cigarettes.  I often think of him and remember him in such a fond way, and then the page turns.  That's when life decided to change.  He became less and less of a father and even less of a man.  One summer he got my older sister of five years and me a four-wheeler.  We didn't realize what a blessing that would come to be.
 
                  Earthquakes
 
Yelling.  That was all my sister and I began to hear, and then the earthquakes came leaving mother with bruises and with a mess to clean up.  One morning he got mad at mother for not cooking his eggs correctly and he took off his belt and beat her with it.  The world was changing...my world was ending.  My father became such an angry man.  I can still to this very day remember the sound of his belt being jerked out like a whip, popping on each loop until freed from his work pants, feeling my heart sink, my little body tighten up and ducking my head.  Most of the time he would overlap the leather straps and go for the legs.  It stings worse than if it were on the butt.  It throbs when you move your legs to walk and burns like hell when you sit down.  That was daddy's target.  There were even times he just used his buckle.  I remember staring at it with such contempt one day at its gold and silver lining with his initals standing out in the center.  It was a miracle that I wasn't branded like a cow and forced to live the entirety of my life with his initals on my legs. But, only the hook would pierce my back and leave its permanent reminder of a man gone mad and a father lost."
 
So in her words, my little sister's words, along with  my memories, she helps create a picture of a man, a man we called Daddy.  For the times its too painful to actually use that endearing term  he will only be referred to in a masculine sense.  This is part of who we are, part of our strength and most definitely part of our weakness. This is only a drop in the bucket.. the bucket of paint I will use to paint the picture of my life. 

You will never forget....

Another hot, muggy, summer day being dragged through the mall with my mother. I wasn't there to try on clothes or go in the stores I really wanted.. I was there as a moving table. You know, here hold this, carry my purse, hold that, oh one more thing.. got room?? If the drudging around the mall wasn't bad enough, it was getting back in the furnace of hell car that awaited us in the parking lot. Dying to get in and sit down,,, only to have to wait for a good three or four eternal minutes outside the car while the doors are swung open letting the vacuous heat escape from the innards of the car. One of those hot days where you can see the heat itself moving in the air and from the road tops.. part of that heat that also lay beneath my feet on the tarmac of which they called the spacious parking lot. After most of the heat had escaped and the car then turned on with the AC blowing wide open.. we entered the car. The car.. a light blue 1974 Buick LaSabre with the suede bench seats and the wonderous 8 track player. The one thing that will be my downfall on this day would be the glove compartment straight ahead of me. That would be part of my carelessness that scorched this day into eternal memory.

As I sat there, cooling to almost normal temperatures again,, I felt guilty for what I had done. Part of me, no all of me knew it was wrong, but the other side of me thought that no one would notice or miss anything. You see, in my pocket, I had hidden a small prize for myself. It was a Snoopy address book.. a little round one that wasn't more than an inch and a half wide as it was tall. One of those little novelty items they have near the counters for the impulse buyers to grab and purchase.. only mine wasn't purchased. I did start off my need to have this little book by asking mother to buy it for me.. repeatedly begging for it.. after several not this time, no's, and put that back's .. only when mother wasn't looking, paying for the stuff SHE wanted,, I didn't put it back..I slid it into my little pocket,, where it was now seeming to burn a hole through.


Half way through the trip home, mother decided to stop at a convenience store for a drink.. and she left the car running and me in it. While she was in the store.. my excitement about having that little book got the best of me and I reached in and pulled it out to take a thorough look through it. No one was gonna miss this! How could they.. its so small.. and only cost a buck!! I would pray for forgiveness later.. but now I enjoyed having a little secret. OH NO! Here she comes .. she snuck up on me!! No time to get it back in my pocket. Quick! Open the glove compartment and throw it in! She sat down behind the wheel as I slammed the compartment door. She looks over at me..

"What were you doing in there?"

"Nothing" I replied.

" I saw you throw something there, what was it?"

"Nothing" again I maintained.

"Open it up and show me what this 'nothing' is then"

I felt my heart drop and my limbs go numb. Not scared of her because of what I had done.. scared that she wouldn't keep my secret from HIM. So I proceeded to pull out the tiny Snoopy address book and revealed it to her.

"Where did you get this?"

Here I have to add that maybe part of the reason I took it was that she didn't even look at it to know what it was that I wanted.. just gave me a No, end of discussion answer. When she asked this, I knew then for sure she didn't even glance down at it before we left the store.

"I .. I .. I.. took it from the store"

"WHAT? You KNOW better than to steal! We have raised you better than that!"

"But but but mom,, it wasn't much and you said no and I really really wanted it.. "

"I am sorry but you didn't have any need for that, you have plenty of things at home to play with. Wait till HE finds out."

"NOOOO MOM PLEASE NOOOOO don't tell HIM!!"

" I am sorry Chris, but I have to, I can't keep something like this from him."

She had made up her mind already. I still do this day can't figure out what she expected would happen.. she knew HIS history , she knew HIS temper. Could she not see the terror in my eyes, that knowing look I had that I was about to get it good?? Maybe somewhere in the recess of her mind she was thinking.. just do right by HIM and explain it in a better light and HE will only do a small reprimand to remind of her right and wrong. Maybe? I can only hope that was her thinking, otherwise it would have just been averting her pain onto me, and I don't want to believe that. So, I won't.


My body stiffened as we approached our driveway and pulled in. My eyes welled up with tears and fright. We unloaded the car and went inside. HE was down in his workshop, probably working on some car or something.. We were home only a few minutes till HE came up to the house to ask about dinner. At this point, I was frozen, and can't for the life of me remember the exact words mother used to tell him about my indiscretion. The thing I remember next was being told to go to my room and wait while HE got HIS belt. I sat on the edge of my bed, crying ,, crying so hard it was to the point of big gulps of sniffling. I didn't want to be wailing or anything ,, that might make it worse. So I held back as best as I could. Finally, HE came in and stood in my doorway.

" You are about to get a reminder to you that stealing is wrong young lady and you are about to get a whipping you will never forget. Not only that, I am gonna get this little book and hang it from your bedroom door so that everytime you walk through you will be reminded of what you did!"

Ohh it was coming.. HE pointed towards my bathroom, "GET IN THERE AND BEND OVER!"..

I walked slowly into the bathroom and proceeded to bend only slighly, and as every kid does that gets spankings their instinct moves their hands to cover the part to be hit. "DROP THEM!" and down my hands went..now holding the edge of the tub beside me. Here comes the first one.. all belt.. right on my rear end. The second swoosh came down.. almost all belt, farther down on my rear. The third one, building up energy and speed landed.. not so much belt.. as it was the buckle sting I felt, and the point of contact was my upper hind legs. The fourth, fifth, sixth, came down in the same fashion. I think maybe by the tenth or so he was tired out. I mean who wouldn't be.. giving those kinds of blows using all your 6'3" , 250lbs body could swing. Who would be tired?? How was it even possibl3 you hadn't jolted your little girl clear across the room into the tub. OHHH she's tough.. she stood strong.


Yeah..I stood strong.. I stood because I couldn't sit down comfortable for almost a week. Not with the bruises and welts left behind. Part of that reminder you know.. HE wanted to make sure he got his point across. Immediately after the "incident", I went straight to my room and cried for what seemed forever.. till I was again reminded that I had to suck it up now and come to dinner. Three guesses who told me that .. and the first two don't count!

It was excruciating to sit and eat.. to sit across the table from HIM and watch him go on as if nothing he did was wrong. Eat hearty I thought... I am sure you will need your energy for the next "incident". I could hardly look at mother.. cause after all .. if she would have just kept her mouth shut .. I wouldn't be in so much agony right now. Yes, I stole it.. yes I did the wrong thing.. so I do take blame for that much. She was an adult and could have chosen not to tell him, but she did.. and one day not too long ago.. I reminded her of this day.. and said that I do blame her for her part in it too. She didn't comfort me after my punishment, I suppose she was afraid HE would beat her again too.


HE was right about one thing...his philosophy theories for memory worked.. He made his point.. When he said "You will never forget"... he was right.. I haven't.. and I don't suppose I ever will.

Hester Heights-A Good Time Shared

"CCCHHRRIISSSS!!!" that was the yell I heard echoing through the tunnel that ran below the street. You know, those drain tunnels.. that were for the water on really rainy days.. those places of refuge for us kids to hide from the sun.. the temporary fort they provided when we were bored of our other hiding places. So I poke my head out one end and holler back " COMING"!! This was only two houses down so it would only be a matter of seconds before I was on our front porch. As I swung open the door I could smell the aroma of dinner..that warm feeling that wofts over your face that tantalize a number of senses.. maybe even cause your mouth to become instantly watery. I can't say I remember the exact thing we were having..but I rarely forget not having eaten well.. mom could sure cook.. no question about that. So, I sat down after having washed up, sure, hands clean but the rest of me smelled like outside.. the outside odor of a sweaty kid, the one that is mixed with fresh cut grass scents that had combined with the drippings from my forehead, down to the "fun" smell we carried with us back in those days. You remember that smell.. maybe you even get reminded of that each time your kid runs in or you catch a hint of that on the air one day.. those scents that always always remind you of a time in your life where you may or may not want to forget. This FUN smell I describe always takes me back to the happy places in my mind as I recall childhood. Sometimes I have thought so much of it.. the smell isn't really there at all.. but somehow I can still smell it.. like it was mixed up just for me at that moment and placed in front of a fan or vent.. and then as soon as it has come.. it is gone.. and I let go.

I eat quickly.. then BEG to go back out before the sun comes down.. Amy, my companion in the tunnel earlier, was doing the same thing. We needed to get back to the tunnel to finish our excursion. Wrap up our outdoor day and see who's mom we could coax into a sleep over. It wasn't enough, naturally, to play from sun up till sun down,, we need the entire 24 hours of the day.. and even then that didn't seem long enough.

There were four of us.. all living within the same block next door to each other..only one across the street.. It went Amy, Beth then me.. then across the street Dana. The groups, as it were, was never comprised of the same ring leaders.. some of the time it would be me and Dana conspiring against Amy and Beth, other times it would be me and Amy, conspiring against the world. Dana was a couple years older than me, Amy was only a year.. but in the same grade as I, and Beth had a few years on all of us.. all still close enough in age to get along as a group.... sometimes.

I could pretty well say that back then.. it was Amy and I that were the tightest .. we had a special friendship that only she and I would ever know about.. a special connection.. a certain thinking that led us to many discoveries about one another and ourselves.. No, I could say, probably not at the time did we realized that those things were beyond our years, I know I can at least look back and remember several times during our friendship as children that can probably explain a lot of how I am as an adult. I wonder sometimes does she ever think back to our childhood and remember me. We went through school together and graduated together.. but after I moved from that house in Hester Heights.. it was a rare occassion that we spent time together.. and as that happens it is inevitable that the pillars of friendship crumble down. I don't miss her so much , well one because its been nearly 15 years or more since we spoke, but I miss those days..the ones where we were the only ones in the world... and those discoveries.. keeping them our secret. Even as child of 3,4, and 5 years old I remember conscious efforts to retain and maintain certain memories.. is that common in children??? I wonder what the purpose of that is.. I bet we will find out as we go........

Random Early Memories

Half grown grass comes to mind,, when I remember looking towards the road from our yard,, the yard that seems so incredibly large for my small eyes.. those small eyes searching for my trike.. My tricycle, the first one, with the white plastic seat and bars of purple.. let's not forget the fancy streamers that dangled listlessly from the handles. How it got but just a few feet from the road, I don't recall..but I won't forget the warning yell I received as I sped myself towards it.. and the road. "Get back here!! I will get that for you!" The words that sprang from my mother's mouth. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked around at the small white house of whose porch my mother was leaping. She looked like she had seen a ghost. Of course it, her paleness, was from sheer terror that her baby girl would wander into the busy street. I remember just standing there, waiting anxiously for the retrieval of my trike,, and then focusing my attention to the white '72 Chevy truck that was parked in the yard. It seems now that we were preparing to load up the trike and take a trip.. but alas I can't recall exactly. After my mother draws near and loads the trike,, the memory fades..and the rest of that day in history.. is just that .. history..doubtful that it was a day that anyone remembers for any of its significance.. but those few minutes for some reason are burned into my memory bank. Its not so bad that I only have those few minutes.. can you name any 18 month olds that have a memory they remember into adulthood.. ?? Yes.. it was approximated that I was only about 18 months old when that memory took place.. as we had moved into another house by the age of 2.

When I think back upon my life, and think about my first memories, that is the one that always comes to me first. It makes me wonder why and what significance it had .. or will have. I even remember thinking then remember this.. as I stood facing a fast approaching mother. How odd. To this day, I do have a tremendous memory.. it may not come immediately, but never more than a few minutes that I can pull odd days of my life and recall them so dramatically it was as if they happened only days ago.

As I delve back through my life in times of quiet, I often wonder, did I repress memories of the awful days, the days of regret, the days of torture and abuse? Why is it that no matter how bad it ever got, I recall a happy childhood? When in reality, thinking back with a wiser mind, I know that it wasn't that.. in fact,, not even really close to being terribly great. When I think of my emotions and feelings during those "happy" times.. I distinctly recall being surrounded in my mind with fears and worry of doing things "just right". Will this be the day that the eggshells that I tiptoed over every day, suddenly collapse with the floor beneath me? The waiting to see what kind of mood he's in, to making sure he doesn't know of anything I might have done that day that wasn't up to his standards? The SECRETS! How can I avoid him, and him not read my mind and see how terrified he made me? Was this just an early way to put into place a defense mechanism? Who knows.. if it was.. it saved me.. made my life livable.. got me through. It got me through.. but at what cost?