The Saga Continues

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

Well, I guess New Hampshire isn't THAT far away. Although on the recognizability scale its probably right up there with Wyoming.

So I'm 9. My life as I have always know it has begun to disintegrate, although I was blissfully unaware of this fact. Life for me at that time didn't change a whole lot, at least I was so wrapped up in being a kid I was oblivious. Sure, we started buying "generic" groceries all the time--remember when "generics" first came out? Not store brands or "off" brands, black-and-white UPC-symbol-only generics. Lots of canned food, mac and cheese, eggs, that sort of thing. Plenty of shopping at Bradlees (the New England equivalent of say, KMart), although that wouldn't bother me much until I was in middle school. But seriously, I had much more important things to worry about. What kind of Trapper Keeper would I choose for school? Where were my sister and the neighbors and I going to build our next fort? Would I ever be able to master the Nelson's pogo stick or stilts? (No and no!) I was good at school and had plenty of friends and there was always something fun to do. We didn't have to get rid of our pets or our car or our house (at this point) so it didn't seem like such a big deal.

Of course, that very fact would later prove to be a major problem. See, when you ignore financial reality for a long enough time it WILL come back to bite you in the butt, I promise you.

Dad took lots of random jobs as previously mentioned, so sometimes we didn't get to see him all that much. One thing mom was good at was making sure we got to spend time with him. One Halloween instead of going trick or treating we dressed up and went to the country club where he was bartending and hung out there, eating hot dogs, drinking sodas and playing PacMan. Of course, that was the Halloween of the Tylenol scare so she wasn't about to let us out to get candy anyway, but still...She would keep us out of school once in a while when he was home during the day so we could just hang out with him. She wouldn't even lie about it to the school, she'd just say "My kids need to spend time with their dad". It helped that we were good students of course. What I remember most about those days is going to the dump. Seriously, we didn't have trash pickup, so we loaded up his yellow/gold truck and headed to the dump, my sister, the dog and I bouncing around on the front seat. I loved going to the dump and seeing all the trash people got rid of. Washing machines, kids toys, sofas, whole cars...it was like junk paradise. I was fascinated. Plus I just liked hanging out with my dad. I also remember, so clearly, when he was working on the Seabrook Nuclear Power Plant. He'd usually get home right around the 11 o'clock news. We had a wood stove, and he'd lay out his wet jacket, gloves, boots, hat, all around the wood stove. Then he'd plunk down in our big armchair--godawful ugly it was to remember it, huge yellow roses all over it--and settle in to watch the news before heading to bed. I'd often wake up and come down and just climb in his lap and cuddle there with him, just the two of us, Penny the dog curled up alongside of us, while WBZ Channel 4 went on about whatever "important" things happened that day. I wonder if he remembers that at all.

I try to imagine what it must have been like for him, to have his livelihood stripped away by some politician in Washington trying to show his muscle in his first year of office. I don't know if anyone hates or has hated a person as much as he hated our President for taking this from him. Of course, God forbid he should express his feelings about this, no, a good man stuffs them all inside and just soldiers on, bearing those burdens alone. Ignore what isn't pretty, pretend it isn't there. Just keep plowing ahead in spite of all the blaring warning signs of impending disaster. If I don't think about it, it doesn't exsist, right?

Of course Mom had her own issues that suddenly seemed to bloom with the new financial stresses. Suddenly she had to find a job, which was successful off and on depending on the swing of her increasingly erratic moods. Remembering days when she would just lie in bed and cry for no apparent reason. As the cleanliness of our house eroded (except for my immaculate room of course) and weird behaviors started cropping up. Like not throwing anything away because it might be vital to our existence. McDonald's napkins, empty envelopes, months old store circulars...As her mental state deteriorated, so did everything else. Fights became more and more frequent, louder, more angry. Usually over money, or how strangely she was acting. My sister and I would just retreat to our rooms, and as the next few years went by, we would slowly start to realize that things were not all ok at 10 Beechwood Road. And here you find me, starting to make that vow, challenge myself to NOT be like her at any cost.