So another week slides by, too easy, too fast and it feels like more of the same dull beads slipping along a a cord, a rosary of my days. What stations do they pass? What prayers or offerings are needed? Looking back so very far it feels strange, almost unreal. This week back then I actually wrote a page on two days, Monday, June 19 and Friday, June 23. This post is for the 23rd but I will put them in chronological order to save any extra explanations or repetitions. Let's time travel.
Monday June 19, 1967
I may as well leave off trying to keep a diary or journal. The days are mostly routine with minor joys and sorrows and an occasional accomplishment. Today I got a $50 check and a nice letter from Uncle Dan. I put half of it in my account, paid off my record bill, and kept the remainder. I made a 1 on my first Econ test. The first in Stats tomorrow. It was a dull, lonely weekend as Lynn took off and I was all alone. Still no word from Dusty. Will I ever? Maybe I will get a letter from Jim tomorrow. That is a poor second best but I want to do something besides make 1s and dream about Prince Charming. I'm coming down with a bad case of the blues--better snap out of it, girl. Everything is too easy. I should go look for a job. I am really an awful coward...
Friday, June 23, 1967
Summer--three days old now.It feels like summer, too, except for the wind. I feel sick as a dog. Too many worries plus two cups of coffee on an almost empty stomach. It was sure not considerate of the Boss to say he'd come by and tell me what all had happened and then to disappear without a word. especially after telling me all those gruesome tales. I sure had a doozy of a nightmare last night. We were tangling with a bunch of the local 'enemies'.* I sassed them some and started to leave and this Chinese guy threw a silver wedge/ax/ knife/star at me. The device settled in my head, right at the temple. I kept thinking they would catch me but they didn't. Somehow I staggered up to Jerome and banged on Jimmy Mac's door. I collapsed at his feet when he opened it. I had blood crusted in my hair and on my face. He said he'd take me to the hospital and I screamed. "No! No,they will kill me! Take me over to Prescott." I wanted to go to Whipple but of course couldn't so chose the County Hospital instead. That was about the end. Geez, I mean it was gnarly. Lynn said she didn't sleep well either. I don't think I was yelling... Of course I am worried about Dusty, too. I'm not even sure he found the numbers but he must have since I am positive he was there that Tuesday to get part of his stuff. But I really do wish I knew how and where he is. I'd like to call but don't know where or what I'd say depending on who might answer.
A kind of diatribe follows; read at your discretion.
*As to those "enemies", they were named in the original narrative. I have not done so here out of respect for younger generations who were generally not responsible. First I freely acknowledge that my male parent was an unmitigated asshat and brought a great deal of the issues on himself. However, I have to say in his behalf that he was an extreme narcissist but also had severe mental illness such as delusions of many kinds, major paranoia and possibly others. I think he often felt he was literally fighting for his life, and acted that way. This fact was established in court that fall on another issue. While none of that excuses much he did, it was a proximate cause and verified fact.
My major issue with those now unnamed people is how they were not abashed, actually almost seemed delighted to go after me and my brother without mercy and did so. I was a legal adult, thus not free of blame, although the psychology of enmeshed families was not well understood then so I might plead some immunity in that circumstance. However, Charlie Mike was **fifteen** at this time, legally a minor and thus a 'child' under the law. The abuse and hatefulness he was subjected to is inexcusable IMO. I cannot forgive it or those who did it. That level of abusive meanness was totally uncalled for. A few did step in and try to help him, one especially being Tom Henry, then a teacher as Mingus. I honor him for his decency and humanity, even while under political pressure of the school board which included some of those most bent on "getting even." Charlie Mike never forgot him and I did not either. May he rest now in well-earned peace.
Even after the whole family was out of the state, an effort was made to subpoena and drag me back from Flagstaff. I suspect the instigator wanted to seize the few horses I had taken charge of and was finding good homes for so I could realize no benefit from them. That was personal and I am still angry. I believe Dr McDonald intervened and quashed that effort. I was never arrested or brought to court. I did rehome them and got a half-penny on the dollar of their true value but it was far more important to me to see them in good trustworthy homes which I did. I still damn the greed and hate that drove such an ill-intended effort. I will not forget, not ever. Make of all this what you will. At least it may explain some of my fierce aversion to the current political situation which has given me recurring to almost constant PTSD.
Photos: All a few years earlier but just to remind myself and my readers about how we lived and what our lives were like when a group of adults who were mad at our father decided we were as guilty if not more. We obviously really needed to be "put in our place", no? Who was I, a toxic, trashy Morgan, to be highest in my class and actually go to college? And who was Charlie Mike to even exist in the same world they and their offspring did? I try not to be bitter since it is all far in the past. I do not always succeed however.
No comments:
Post a Comment