My daddy talked to me. People wonder why stay in careers instead of going home to their families. I believe they want meaningful conversation with their significant other. It may be as simple as wanting to be heard. Men gather like sheep to fish, hunt, or golf together. Perhaps some women do the same. The idea of herding has never appealed to me.
I feel that I’ve been seeking conversation all of my life. Not talking to random people at a coffee house but to feel truly understood by a few people. I had it with my daddy at times that nurtured me. I had it with my best friend Katie, who died, and an employee Sandy, who also died from cancer. My family wasn’t a extremely communicative one. The 1950s were a time when parents ruled the roost by sort of a quiet command and a clean switch … at least in my household. The poor communication never changed.
I wanted to learn things and, as we know now, teachers don’t always teach. It takes parents helping and noticing what is going on with the child. I remember being envious of friends my age who got new cute outfits from time to time. I tried not to think about it since it was frowned on by my mother. Yet, she was always in the most attractive outfits. It didn’t make sense to me. I wanted to look “cool” so I started sewing my own clothes. Looking back, I was quite industrious since my mother did not sew.
Many of my young pictures are of me with nasty hairdos and I am frowning. In one, I have what I call buns at the ears and I have a pair of shoes I hated and my arms are folded. I am quite obviously very mad. In another, I am way too old to be taking a photo for the church in a baby bed, but there I am kneeling with tears streaming down my face in it. This conjures up many things that had we talked anytime along the way I might have understood. However, they are some of the things that shaped me. All my life wanting to talk but alienating myself all the while.
PREVIOUS PAGE
