I think this was before I was born or when I was a very small baby, I'm not sure. But my Dad walked down to Lafe (or Lief) Hinkle's store at Richardson and spent (what at that time was a great amount) a lot of money to buy my brother and sister a bicycle. They would get up on the top of the hill on the old road by our house at the path down to the Wash Rock and ride down the hill and into the gate that separated our yard from our old coal house. My brother made his run but my sister did not and rammed her bike into one of the posts holding the gate up and drove the front wheel all the way back to where the back wheel was.
I don't recall hearing she was injured though it seems to me to be impossible she was not. But it ruined her bike. I can't recall who or why or even if it is true but someone (I think) straightened our her bike as much as could be so it was not an entire waste.
That was a long time before I was ready for my own bike. I did not get that until we moved to the big, white house in West Van Lear. I was so happy and excited. Except the left peddle would come off when riding. I was afraid to tell my Dad as I feared he would take it away from me. But, he noticed I was not riding it and asked me if I did not like it.
So I told him all about the peddle. Frank Spears, whom we rented the place from, put a fitting in the hole where the pedal threaded into and then the peddle into that fitting and it worked fine. I was quite happy then.
Burgler Holler (real name is Burger Hollow but everyone knows it as what I said.) had a "front road" and a "back road". We lived almost all the way up the holler on the front road and it was covered in "Red Dog". Red Dog is a kind of slate that comes from coal mines and was used to cover roads as it was cheap and plentiful. Problem was it was very sharp. Like riding one's bike over a bed of knives so I spent a lot of time patching my inner tube as I has lots of flat tires.
My Dad would not allow me to ride my bike down into "the Junction" though I did anyway. I ran into him (figuratively) once at the post office and he almost took my bike away from me. I did not stop going to the Junction but I became much more observant.
Here is a lesson for parents... When you catch your kids doing something you have forbidden them do do does not mean they will stop doing it. It just means they will be more careful to not get caught. This was a thing that proved true all my life, doing what I was told not to do meant nothing to me. Getting caught doing it was what made me careful. Still, I got caught enough times.
I think most kids were like that. Makes me wonder why so many parents seems so surprised when they find their kids avoiding, ignoring, or just circumventing their instructions. We all thought we knew more than our parents. We just did not say so to avoid the inevitable beating to follow such a remark.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Smoking in the Boy's Room
I first started smoking cigarettes when I was about eleven. Did not smoke a lot as cigarettes were hard to come by. I guess I really did not start smoking regularly until I was in my early teens and we'd moved back to Nat's Creek.
On weekends my cousin Steve and I would go to Sherman LeMasters' store and get things his parents would order then we'd get several packs of Winston (what his Dad smoked) and kept them for ourselves. I guess Sherman knew what was going on but he never stopped us.
Later we would get our smokes from Delmar and Cat (Kathleen) Mollett. They smoked "Old Golds" so that was mostly what we smoked. they would buy extra when they went to the store and so we had a place to go that was close to us.
By the time I was around sixteen or seventeen I was a regular smoker. (Sigh) All the lies and excuses I gave my parents. I don't suppose they believed a word of them but it seemed I was "getting off" at the time.
What has this got to do with the tile of this blog? In High School we always went to the boy's restroom to smoke. A lot of it was sucking down as much as you could in a short time and going back to class feeling dizzy. Just did not want to be caught by a teacher and sent to the Principal's office.
The day I got 'caught' I went into the bathroom to use if for it's built in purpose and even held the door open for a male teacher. As I walked around the stalls someone handed me a Camel Stud (a Camel cigarette with no filter) and I looked at it and said I did not want it and flipped it into the urinal. Unfortunately, the teacher whom I had opened the door for was standing right beside me. Oops.
Now I don't dislike this teacher. He was the one who loaned me his copy of 'The Hobbit'. But he saw me with a cigarette in my hand. He directed me to the Principal's office. Now let me explain something only smokers would understand... I was smoking menthol cigarettes. A Camel Stud would have ripped my lungs right out of my chest. That was not an acceptable defense.
So, they sent up to see the Principal (Mr. Cheeks). At the time Jim Cheeks was the principal and Bill Cheeks (his brother) was the superintendent. The saying was our school was like an ass, it took two cheeks to run it.
At the time the penalty for getting caught smoking, as I understood it, was three 'licks' or three days suspension. I was not about to explain to my parents why I was suspended for three days so I elected to take the 'licks'. Only, old Jim must have forgotten how to count as he went way past three. Ten as I recall and that man could swing a mean paddle. In face he had a whole selection of paddles in his office and you got to pick which one he would use on you. Some choice.
The other two guys who were waiting in the office ante-room said they were both going to take the licks but when I came out looking white as a ghost they both decided to take the suspension.. That was the only time I got caught smoking in school and I was not even smoking then. Does not mean I had not done it a hundred times. :-)
On weekends my cousin Steve and I would go to Sherman LeMasters' store and get things his parents would order then we'd get several packs of Winston (what his Dad smoked) and kept them for ourselves. I guess Sherman knew what was going on but he never stopped us.
Later we would get our smokes from Delmar and Cat (Kathleen) Mollett. They smoked "Old Golds" so that was mostly what we smoked. they would buy extra when they went to the store and so we had a place to go that was close to us.
By the time I was around sixteen or seventeen I was a regular smoker. (Sigh) All the lies and excuses I gave my parents. I don't suppose they believed a word of them but it seemed I was "getting off" at the time.
What has this got to do with the tile of this blog? In High School we always went to the boy's restroom to smoke. A lot of it was sucking down as much as you could in a short time and going back to class feeling dizzy. Just did not want to be caught by a teacher and sent to the Principal's office.
The day I got 'caught' I went into the bathroom to use if for it's built in purpose and even held the door open for a male teacher. As I walked around the stalls someone handed me a Camel Stud (a Camel cigarette with no filter) and I looked at it and said I did not want it and flipped it into the urinal. Unfortunately, the teacher whom I had opened the door for was standing right beside me. Oops.
Now I don't dislike this teacher. He was the one who loaned me his copy of 'The Hobbit'. But he saw me with a cigarette in my hand. He directed me to the Principal's office. Now let me explain something only smokers would understand... I was smoking menthol cigarettes. A Camel Stud would have ripped my lungs right out of my chest. That was not an acceptable defense.
So, they sent up to see the Principal (Mr. Cheeks). At the time Jim Cheeks was the principal and Bill Cheeks (his brother) was the superintendent. The saying was our school was like an ass, it took two cheeks to run it.
At the time the penalty for getting caught smoking, as I understood it, was three 'licks' or three days suspension. I was not about to explain to my parents why I was suspended for three days so I elected to take the 'licks'. Only, old Jim must have forgotten how to count as he went way past three. Ten as I recall and that man could swing a mean paddle. In face he had a whole selection of paddles in his office and you got to pick which one he would use on you. Some choice.
The other two guys who were waiting in the office ante-room said they were both going to take the licks but when I came out looking white as a ghost they both decided to take the suspension.. That was the only time I got caught smoking in school and I was not even smoking then. Does not mean I had not done it a hundred times. :-)
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Mary Jane Part 1
My sister, Mary Jane, had Lupus. She was twenty six when it was diagnosed and thirty six when she died. I don't have all that many memories of her when she was young. A lot of it was due to my age but even more was due to her not living with us much at all. She stayed with our Aunt Dixie (mother's sister) so she could go to school and the Kingdom Hall (What Jehovah's Witnesses call church). I can't imagine how my Dad felt about that as he absolutely despised Jehovah's Witnesses. But, that was the way it was.
My memories of my sister are quite limited in her younger years. I mostly remember her after she married. That was in 1967 I believe. That was the same year we moved from West Van Lear back down to Nat's Creek so my mother could take care of my grandparents. It is difficult for me to fathom that has been nearly a half century ago.
We lived in the old, Charlie Blessing house and paid Frank Blessing fifteen dollars a month rent. It was at least a half mile (probably farther) from there to where my grandparents lived. It was a nice walk and walking was the only means of transportation we had.
Mary Jane had her two sons quite close together and of a summer I'd go spend time at their house and help with the boys and chores around the house. They lived in Homer's (my brother-in-law) old family house. Like most old places it had a well and an outhouse. Of course where I lived on Nat's Creek was the same so it all felt familiar to me. It was just normal and not an inconvenience.
I always did the dishes after meals while listening to WSIP on the radio (Paintsville). They played mostly country music with just a couple of half-hour interludes of top 40 music. I was washing dishes in the kitchen when the news of Robert Kennedy's assassination came through. I was devastated as I was convinced he was going to be the next American President and would be a great one. Sirhan Sirhan did it but I've never been convinced of his reasons. Robert Kennedy was Attorney General during his brother's (JFK) Presidency and he was hard on organized crime. In fact one of the theories on the JFK assassination is that the mob did it. I think the mob may have feared a Robert Kennedy presidency and had him killed as well. Just an opinion of mine as there is no evidence to support it.
Anyhow, as usual, I ramble on about things not relevant to the subject.
My sister was a lovely young woman. She stood about 5' 2" and weighed about 108 lb when she was married at age 23. She was a very strong-willed woman. During her sickness the doctors told her she would never walk again but she ordered one of those exercisers where you attach it to the wall and use pulleys to move your arms and legs and she worked on it until she did get up out of her bed and walk. A true VanHoose. Can teach a mule about how to be stubborn.
In her final months she was in the Highlands Regional Hospital and everyone knew she was not coming home again. It had been like that for years. She'd get really bad then recover. But, not to the level where she was as good as before. We all knew it was just a race to see which crucial organ would fail first. It was a stressful time for all of us.
I had been taking welding class at a local Vocational school at night and working in the days. After the end of my welding class and the end of my job my brother-in-law and I split staying with my sister 24 hours a day. He took the night shift and I did days. We did a lot of talking until she became too ill to speak. Mostly it was like a coma. She just lay there and we just sat and looked on. Like I said it was a stressful time.
I guess that is when I first got into prescription drugs and alcohol. After coming home in the evening I could not sleep. My doctor (who was the same doctor as my sister) gave me Valium prescriptions and I was going through about thirty a week. None during the day just during the evening when I got home. I would sit at the kitchen table while everyone else in the house was asleep and take Valium and drink Canadian Mist whiskey until I could sleep. This went on 24/7 for months.
On the night my sister passed away, I don't recall why, but both I and my brother-in-law were in her room chatting. All of a sudden she sat up in bed and said, "I can't move my hands". Her hands were under the blankets. We were both stunned as she had been comatose for several weeks. Then she sank back into the bed and was silent again. It was not long after that I noticed I could not see her breathing. I used the call button for the nurse and told her I did not think my sister was breathing.
I was right. She wasn't and they took her away in about thirty minutes and the next time we saw her was in a coffin at the funeral home. It was rough for us be we all knew how sick she had been and all the pain and suffering she had endured so we were, at the same time, relieved she was out of all that.
Even though I don't recall a lot about her I am convinced she was the best of all of us. I think my brother would agree with me on that. She was a VanHoose through and through with all the stubbornness, temper and love for "bad things" as were the rest of us but she also was the only one who was mostly on the good side of the line. I wish my sister could have watched her kids grow up to be men and have seen her grand children as I know she would have loved them all. I wish she could have known my children and my grandchildren as well. That did not happen, however and there is no changing the past to make it more to our liking.
My sister has been dead for over thirty years now and I still miss her.
My memories of my sister are quite limited in her younger years. I mostly remember her after she married. That was in 1967 I believe. That was the same year we moved from West Van Lear back down to Nat's Creek so my mother could take care of my grandparents. It is difficult for me to fathom that has been nearly a half century ago.
We lived in the old, Charlie Blessing house and paid Frank Blessing fifteen dollars a month rent. It was at least a half mile (probably farther) from there to where my grandparents lived. It was a nice walk and walking was the only means of transportation we had.
Mary Jane had her two sons quite close together and of a summer I'd go spend time at their house and help with the boys and chores around the house. They lived in Homer's (my brother-in-law) old family house. Like most old places it had a well and an outhouse. Of course where I lived on Nat's Creek was the same so it all felt familiar to me. It was just normal and not an inconvenience.
I always did the dishes after meals while listening to WSIP on the radio (Paintsville). They played mostly country music with just a couple of half-hour interludes of top 40 music. I was washing dishes in the kitchen when the news of Robert Kennedy's assassination came through. I was devastated as I was convinced he was going to be the next American President and would be a great one. Sirhan Sirhan did it but I've never been convinced of his reasons. Robert Kennedy was Attorney General during his brother's (JFK) Presidency and he was hard on organized crime. In fact one of the theories on the JFK assassination is that the mob did it. I think the mob may have feared a Robert Kennedy presidency and had him killed as well. Just an opinion of mine as there is no evidence to support it.
Anyhow, as usual, I ramble on about things not relevant to the subject.
My sister was a lovely young woman. She stood about 5' 2" and weighed about 108 lb when she was married at age 23. She was a very strong-willed woman. During her sickness the doctors told her she would never walk again but she ordered one of those exercisers where you attach it to the wall and use pulleys to move your arms and legs and she worked on it until she did get up out of her bed and walk. A true VanHoose. Can teach a mule about how to be stubborn.
In her final months she was in the Highlands Regional Hospital and everyone knew she was not coming home again. It had been like that for years. She'd get really bad then recover. But, not to the level where she was as good as before. We all knew it was just a race to see which crucial organ would fail first. It was a stressful time for all of us.
I had been taking welding class at a local Vocational school at night and working in the days. After the end of my welding class and the end of my job my brother-in-law and I split staying with my sister 24 hours a day. He took the night shift and I did days. We did a lot of talking until she became too ill to speak. Mostly it was like a coma. She just lay there and we just sat and looked on. Like I said it was a stressful time.
I guess that is when I first got into prescription drugs and alcohol. After coming home in the evening I could not sleep. My doctor (who was the same doctor as my sister) gave me Valium prescriptions and I was going through about thirty a week. None during the day just during the evening when I got home. I would sit at the kitchen table while everyone else in the house was asleep and take Valium and drink Canadian Mist whiskey until I could sleep. This went on 24/7 for months.
On the night my sister passed away, I don't recall why, but both I and my brother-in-law were in her room chatting. All of a sudden she sat up in bed and said, "I can't move my hands". Her hands were under the blankets. We were both stunned as she had been comatose for several weeks. Then she sank back into the bed and was silent again. It was not long after that I noticed I could not see her breathing. I used the call button for the nurse and told her I did not think my sister was breathing.
I was right. She wasn't and they took her away in about thirty minutes and the next time we saw her was in a coffin at the funeral home. It was rough for us be we all knew how sick she had been and all the pain and suffering she had endured so we were, at the same time, relieved she was out of all that.
Even though I don't recall a lot about her I am convinced she was the best of all of us. I think my brother would agree with me on that. She was a VanHoose through and through with all the stubbornness, temper and love for "bad things" as were the rest of us but she also was the only one who was mostly on the good side of the line. I wish my sister could have watched her kids grow up to be men and have seen her grand children as I know she would have loved them all. I wish she could have known my children and my grandchildren as well. That did not happen, however and there is no changing the past to make it more to our liking.
My sister has been dead for over thirty years now and I still miss her.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Freezing
I woke up this morning in a full body sweat and very lethargic. There is one reason this happens but I'm so lethargic I can't think of it. When I finally thought to take my blood sugar it was 49. I popped a glucose tablet to get it up fast and grabbed a bowl of banana nut Cheerios. Then, about the time I was going to leave for work it all changed to me freezing my butt off.
I remember that happening once before many years ago when Heather lived with me and before Linda and I were married. Seemed like every bit of heat and warmth drained out of my body. I was wearing insulated underwear, three pairs of socks and had the thermostat turned up to 85 and was in bed under all the covers I had still doing a full body shiver.
When Heather got home I got her to bring the extra blankets from her room and spread over me. It did not seem to help but after a time my body began to warm up again. Soon I was OK and able to go to sleep normally. This morning was as close as I've been to that since then though it happened when I was awake and did not last but two or three hours. I do not know what causes it but it is a little frightening. Here is is, late April, and I'm sitting in my house wearing my warmest coat and it is not cold outside. Makes one wonder.
But I'm warm now so nothing serious has happened. But it does make me wonder about losing all the warmth in my body and never getting it back. Be an interesting thing to freeze to death in April in South Carolina. Well, I've never been one to do anything the normal way.
I remember that happening once before many years ago when Heather lived with me and before Linda and I were married. Seemed like every bit of heat and warmth drained out of my body. I was wearing insulated underwear, three pairs of socks and had the thermostat turned up to 85 and was in bed under all the covers I had still doing a full body shiver.
When Heather got home I got her to bring the extra blankets from her room and spread over me. It did not seem to help but after a time my body began to warm up again. Soon I was OK and able to go to sleep normally. This morning was as close as I've been to that since then though it happened when I was awake and did not last but two or three hours. I do not know what causes it but it is a little frightening. Here is is, late April, and I'm sitting in my house wearing my warmest coat and it is not cold outside. Makes one wonder.
But I'm warm now so nothing serious has happened. But it does make me wonder about losing all the warmth in my body and never getting it back. Be an interesting thing to freeze to death in April in South Carolina. Well, I've never been one to do anything the normal way.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Growing Roses
Early in my life I never thought much about roses. They grew almost wild all around. When I lived at the old house we lived in during my teens there was a huge, old rose bush beyond the end of the porch just before the apple tree and garden. All I thought of it was it was a pain in the butt to get the lawn mower around.
In the past decade and a half of my life I've tried growing roses around my house. I've not been very successful. Between diseases and just plain stubbornness :-) roses just do not want to do well in my yard. I've planted so many and used so much rose food and disease spray. I can't even begin to recall how much I've used.
This year I have ordered two climbing roses to try to train to the trellis on the front of the house. One of them looks to be leafing out and seeking the trellis to start climbing. The other has green canes but not a single leaf to be seen. I don't know how much longer I can keep ordering roses and have them just crash and burn. :-) At least my lorapetalums are (or at least, should be) the envy of everyone who sees them.
Now if I can just find some roses I can grow.
In the past decade and a half of my life I've tried growing roses around my house. I've not been very successful. Between diseases and just plain stubbornness :-) roses just do not want to do well in my yard. I've planted so many and used so much rose food and disease spray. I can't even begin to recall how much I've used.
This year I have ordered two climbing roses to try to train to the trellis on the front of the house. One of them looks to be leafing out and seeking the trellis to start climbing. The other has green canes but not a single leaf to be seen. I don't know how much longer I can keep ordering roses and have them just crash and burn. :-) At least my lorapetalums are (or at least, should be) the envy of everyone who sees them.
Now if I can just find some roses I can grow.
Childhood Fishing
There were not a lot of places that were good for fishing where I grew up. Nat's Creek was a small stream and did not harbor many edible fish. The Levisa fork of the Big Sandy River was not too far off but my parents would never have allowed me to go fishing there. When I was growing up, fishing was something one did but"catching' was not something to be expected.
Then, when my sister got married she and her husband lived near Dewy Dam at Jenny Wiley State Park and he would take me fishing there. We fished with cane poles and not modern rods and reels. My brother-in-law was the most patient fisherman I have ever known. He could sit all day watching his bobber and if he got one good bite he caught a fish.
Me, on the other had, got really bored really quickly. But it does bring to mind one weekend not long after my sister and he got married. We went to Dewy Dam and parked at a wide place at the top of the hill just before the right turn to the dam. We carried our bait and cane poles down past the park ranger boat dock and around the edge of the lake until we came to a little shelf that ran out into the lake just before an inlet. We fished there Friday through Sunday and we each caught thirty-two "keeper" blue gills. They made some sensational fish fries
I think those were the most successful fishing days I had growing up. In later years I moved to Florida and would go with my brother out to the Gulf Stream and fish with three hooks on each line. We'd catch so many fish (two or three at a time) we'd get tired of reeling them in and just not put our lines back in the water. But that was later. In the early days there was nothing better than those early days at Dewy Dam with my brother-in-law.
Then, when my sister got married she and her husband lived near Dewy Dam at Jenny Wiley State Park and he would take me fishing there. We fished with cane poles and not modern rods and reels. My brother-in-law was the most patient fisherman I have ever known. He could sit all day watching his bobber and if he got one good bite he caught a fish.
Me, on the other had, got really bored really quickly. But it does bring to mind one weekend not long after my sister and he got married. We went to Dewy Dam and parked at a wide place at the top of the hill just before the right turn to the dam. We carried our bait and cane poles down past the park ranger boat dock and around the edge of the lake until we came to a little shelf that ran out into the lake just before an inlet. We fished there Friday through Sunday and we each caught thirty-two "keeper" blue gills. They made some sensational fish fries
I think those were the most successful fishing days I had growing up. In later years I moved to Florida and would go with my brother out to the Gulf Stream and fish with three hooks on each line. We'd catch so many fish (two or three at a time) we'd get tired of reeling them in and just not put our lines back in the water. But that was later. In the early days there was nothing better than those early days at Dewy Dam with my brother-in-law.
Being Retarded
My mother always told me I was mentally retarded because it took them so long to get me to breathe after I was born. It seems when I was born they beat my newborn butt off and I would not cry. Then Gracie Ratliff walked into the room and I took one look at her and immediately started crying. I doubt it happened exactly like this but probably in a similar manner.
It was never hidden from me I was an accident. I was not "meant to be". My parents wanted two children and that was my brother (twelve years older) and my sister (ten years older) and that was supposed to be the end. Life sometimes throws a few curve balls though. They thought my mother was too old to have kids and took no precautions. Voila, there came me.
So, for all my life I've known I was unplanned (unwanted?) as well as being retarded. Kind of an interesting background for a childhood. Not much of a foundation for a lot of self esteem. Add to that my Dad's most likely reaction when I made a mistake of any kind was, "Can't you do anything right?!". And I made a lot of mistakes like all kids do. My successes were taken as "expected" and my failures were definitely pounded into my psyche as failures. Makes a lot of self esteem and self confidence problematic.
Later in my life I projected an arrogant persona to mask all my insecurities. I did have a lot to be arrogant about. I was smart. Being mentally retarded did not seem to have been too much of a problem as I have a "gifted" IQ and found school more boring than challenging. I've often wondered what I could have achieved had I not been retarded. Though, it was probably more lack of motivation that held me back than my diminished mental faculties.
Still, being retarded and unwanted does take it's toll. Then add to all that I was not allowed to associate with any kids my own age. My parents felt they would be a "bad influence" on me. So I was forced to play with my mother's babysitting charge who was five years younger as he was the only one who was found acceptable. Then my parents wondered why I was emotionally and mentally immature. Looking back on it, it seems darned obvious to me.
I felt a desperate need for acceptance and to "fit in" and since the only kids (outside of school) I was allowed to be around were considerably younger.... well, you do the math. Sometimes parents have no idea what damage they are doing to their children from the best of intentions.
I'm fifty-eight years old now and I'm beginning to feel very retarded. My memory is almost gone (except for many years past); my understanding is diminished. My motivation to do anything at all is almost non-existent. But, I do wonder how much I could have achieved in this life were I not retarded and diminished every day by my parents. Maybe more, maybe less. That is one thing we cannot ever do is go back and change the past. That kind of puts more importance on doing what is right today and not minimizing our children's thoughts and desires. Channel subtly and do not diminish your children's thoughts just because they may not be your own. Believe it or not your children can teach you and it is not always the other way around.
Still, I often wonder what could have been were I not retarded.
It was never hidden from me I was an accident. I was not "meant to be". My parents wanted two children and that was my brother (twelve years older) and my sister (ten years older) and that was supposed to be the end. Life sometimes throws a few curve balls though. They thought my mother was too old to have kids and took no precautions. Voila, there came me.
So, for all my life I've known I was unplanned (unwanted?) as well as being retarded. Kind of an interesting background for a childhood. Not much of a foundation for a lot of self esteem. Add to that my Dad's most likely reaction when I made a mistake of any kind was, "Can't you do anything right?!". And I made a lot of mistakes like all kids do. My successes were taken as "expected" and my failures were definitely pounded into my psyche as failures. Makes a lot of self esteem and self confidence problematic.
Later in my life I projected an arrogant persona to mask all my insecurities. I did have a lot to be arrogant about. I was smart. Being mentally retarded did not seem to have been too much of a problem as I have a "gifted" IQ and found school more boring than challenging. I've often wondered what I could have achieved had I not been retarded. Though, it was probably more lack of motivation that held me back than my diminished mental faculties.
Still, being retarded and unwanted does take it's toll. Then add to all that I was not allowed to associate with any kids my own age. My parents felt they would be a "bad influence" on me. So I was forced to play with my mother's babysitting charge who was five years younger as he was the only one who was found acceptable. Then my parents wondered why I was emotionally and mentally immature. Looking back on it, it seems darned obvious to me.
I felt a desperate need for acceptance and to "fit in" and since the only kids (outside of school) I was allowed to be around were considerably younger.... well, you do the math. Sometimes parents have no idea what damage they are doing to their children from the best of intentions.
I'm fifty-eight years old now and I'm beginning to feel very retarded. My memory is almost gone (except for many years past); my understanding is diminished. My motivation to do anything at all is almost non-existent. But, I do wonder how much I could have achieved in this life were I not retarded and diminished every day by my parents. Maybe more, maybe less. That is one thing we cannot ever do is go back and change the past. That kind of puts more importance on doing what is right today and not minimizing our children's thoughts and desires. Channel subtly and do not diminish your children's thoughts just because they may not be your own. Believe it or not your children can teach you and it is not always the other way around.
Still, I often wonder what could have been were I not retarded.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)