A Plague of "Betrayals"
I will backtrack a bit here. Bear with me. I know I did at least mention this first instance since I wrote about the following day a over a month ago. It was April 1. Here is the actual entry for the date it happened, March 31, 1966 with a bit of discussion.
March 31, 1966
On March 31 one of the rough days had happened. I’d been busy with the horses and when Charlie Mike got home we rode Buzzie and Lyno out around Peck’s Lake to look for the missing mules. We were having a continuous problem with them straying into Tavasci’s which almost became ugly several times. It was a nice ride but when we got home we were in for a shock.
The old icebox that sat outside the tack shed was tipped over with iron bars sticking out every which way. One might almost imagine the Mau Mau had attacked. The Old Man had thrown a huge tantrum. Charlie Mike later said it was over his collection of liquor bottle labels stowed inside. I had no clue. Anyway, my treasured little sun-glass pieces lay shattered across the yard. They had been on top and inside the old box. I’d felt lousy all day and at that sight, I pitched a hissy fit.
“I hate you!” I screamed at dad. “You are trying to destroy every trace of beauty in my life.” Then I began to cry. He came over to me, I thought at first to apologize. Instead he slapped me across the face as hard as he could, twice. One landed across my right ear which went instantly deaf. If I could have, I would have left within five minutes.
Nobody had hit me since I was ten years old. I was not so hysterical as to require that kind of action. He was not ever really sorry because I know he had wanted to do that, or worse, for quite awhile. I’m not killed, I said in my journal, but it hurts. My ear was bubbly and odd for weeks. It was the same one I had the infection in when I was six. Somehow my hearing survived. After we did the chores, I helped Charlie Mike right the box. He could not lift it by himself. It was heavy, even with the pounds of iron bars removed. The next day I had to apologize for my ugly speech before Dad would and I got a very half-baked “I’m sorry” in reply. In his view, I deserved it, and surely more.
I do not think my sun glass was ever an object or intentional casualty but almost all of it was destroyed. It had a lot of sentimental value to me and one could actually sell whole pieces to some collectors so it was not worthless at all. Charlie Mike says the target was a liquor bottle label collection he had inside the box but I do not know if that was true or not. It was a cruel act to me and difficult to forget, much less forgive.
The next case I do not think I have alluded to at all previously. It was May 17, 1966 and here is that entry.
On May 17, one of the cruelest of Dad’s nasty tricks played out. Mom and I got home from the pasture and came in to rest a minute. Almost gleefully, Dad began to relate what he had (allegedly) just heard on the radio. A Santa Fe employee had a domestic violence issue in Kingman, perhaps Sunday, to which the cops were called. The man shot at one cop and took two bullets himself, dying on the spot. I knew to the roots of my soul that was a blatant lie but it began to chew at me. I went on about my business with almost no response and hung on grimly until Charlie Mike got home from school. As we saddled up, I told him. He went up town with me where I called Prescott. B&B 6 and its foreman were there, and the agent I spoke to said he would give Mr Watt my message. I made it something innocuous, going weak with relief. I had not and could not believe the tale, but had still pictured Dusty dead. I can never forgive the senseless blatant cruelty of that incident. I don’t recall any reaction from Mom at all and we never spoke of it.
If this cannot be termed a betrayal, I do not understand the word! I cannot imagine the fiendish imagination applied to concoct this tale and the only purpose was obviously to hurt and upset me. I kept my cool very well, or think I did, and hardly reacted at all. Did that disappoint the teller? I shall never know. But how could a parent do such a thing to a child, albeit a grown one? How could he have such hate and ugliness to lay this on me? No, I do not forget; I forgive moderately but forget, NEVER!!
There were two more incidents I considered or labeled betrayals which I will cover next week. Looking back I can only offer my deepest gratitude to the Source and the Force, as I term the Divine Entity and their energies, for all that took place permitting me finally to make my escape. In early September I was able leave before I ultimately totally lost it and "went postal" one way or another. I was never again truly helpless, at the mercy of contempt, malice, pressure, and abuse from those I had trusted. From then on I was always on the periphery of family catastrophes with a different degree of duty and responsibility. i was no longer dependent. I still did not use that sort of language much then but I could at least think if not say "Fuck It. I don't care!" My brothers were the only "family" I was now concerned about. That may sound cold, but it was the truth. I felt my parents had 'divorced' me by their actions.
I found stock photos to illustrate what I had no way to picture. Yes, I was "kicked off the cliff" ,more than once.
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