My Main Line

"The time is always right to do what is right." - Martin Luther King Jr.

2006-03-10T11:02:00.000-05:00

{"We have to live today by what truth we can get today and be ready tomorrow to call it falsehood."-- William James

To change is to be imperfect and to be imperfect is to be wrong --- at times! As an alcoholic, I have a problem with ego; always wanting to be right, hating to say, "I am sorry", not wishing to appear out of control. In sobriety I must wrestle with my ego on a daily basis. However, although I find it difficult to accept that I am imperfect, I know that I am! I know that I need to make amends. I know that I produce most of the pain in my life. Today's facts are stepping stones to tomorrow's falsehoods --- and I grow with this knowledge. Spirituality is growing in the knowledge that I do not have all the answers.
Let me experience joy and growth in the dilemmas of life.}

The above in brackets is from my daily recovery readings. I felt compelled to post it here because it was most assuredly how I was feeling this morning. The quote by William James go hand in hand with this one (also not mine, but unsure to whom it does belong) "The past and the future and great places to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there."

I have to remember to live in the present, one day at a time, one moment at a time if necessary. I can not dwell on the past, only learn from it, and I can not fret about the future as I have no control over it. I only have today, and by the grace of God and A.A., today I am sober. Today I choose to be happy.
I am Melis , an alcoholic, sober 48 days.

Day 45 - I will not drink today

2006-03-06T10:39:00.001-05:00

"The past and the future are nice places to visit, but I wouldn't want to
live there." - Thomas Payne.
Daily I must remind myself that I can not dwell
on the past nor worry about the future. When I do these things I end up missing
out on today. Today is all that I can honestly say that I have for certain. The
future will come one day at a time if my Higher Power has it in store for me. I
must give my alcoholic problems to him and I must never take them back into my
own hands. I have already seen how I can handle that problem, now I must allow
my Higher Power to handle it for me. It is only then that I will be able to
begin to fully heal.
- My name is Melis and I am an alcoholic. By the grace
of my higher power, the love of my family, the support of A.A., and my caring
sponsor I will not take a drink today.

Happy Anniversary to me.

2006-02-19T13:52:00.000-05:00

Day 30. Today is day 30 for me. I am very proud of myself and very somber. I have come a long way and still have a long way to go. not look at the mountain. Only the stone in front of my toe. If I begin to look at the mountain I will become too overwhelmed. I did my heaviest and most destructive drinking when I felt over whelmed.
Day 28 was very difficult for me and I almost did not make it through that day. Not only did I almost drink I had thoughts of ending it all. But love for my son and for my life partner, and the help and gentle words of my sponsor helped see me through the crisis. I not only made through to Day 29, I made it here, to number 30.
Yesterday I went to two A.A. Meetings (at the gentle prodding of my sponsor) and between the morning meeting and after the evening meeting I spent some time with other sober women and more specifically sober lesbians. I can not begin to tell you how great it felt to be sorounded by people that struggled everyday with the same issues that I do every moment of every day. It was an indescribably beautiful feeling.

What have I learned in thirty days? I am completely powerless over alcohol. Alcohol is poison to me. I can not conquer my addiction to alcohol alone. I must ask for help from my higher power because I have already shown what I will do alone. I can not go into my mind alone. That is where the inner child lives and there is no adult supervision there.
Day 30 sucks, just a little less than than 29 and I am sober.

Day 26...I will not drink today.

2006-02-15T08:16:00.000-05:00

Daily Reflections

Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They arebeing fulfilled among us--sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work forthem.
ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS, p. 84

One of the most important things A.A. has given me, in addition to freedom from booze, is the ability to take"right action." It says the promises will ALWAYS materialize if I WORK for them. Fantasizing about them, debating them, preaching about them and faking them just won't work. I'll remain a miserable, rationalizing dry drunk. By taking action and working the Twelve Steps in all my affairs, I'll have a life beyond my wildest dreams.

Thought For The Day:

If alcoholism were just a physical allergy, like asthma or hay fever, it would be easy for us, by taking a skin test with alcohol, to find out whether or not we're alcoholics. But alcoholism is not just a physical allergy. It's also a mental allergy or obsession. After we've become alcoholics, we can still tolerate alcohol physically for quite a while, although we suffer a little more after each binge and each time it takes a little longer to get over our hangovers. Do I realize that since I have become an alcoholic, I cannot tolerate alcohol mentally at all?

Meditation For The Day:

The world does not need super-men or women, but super-natural people. People who will persistently turn the self out of their lives and let their Higher Power work through them. Let inspiration take the place of aspiration. Seek to grow spiritually, rather than to acquire fame and riches. Our chief ambition should be to be used by their Higher Power. The Divine Force is sufficient for all the spiritual work in the world.

Prayer For The Day:
I pray that I may be an instrument of my Higher Power. I pray that I may do my share in remaking the world.

This is day 26. My name is Melis and I am an alcoholic. Thank you for letting me share.

2006-02-14T10:08:00.000-05:00

The day is number 25 and I am sober today.
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Meditation For The Day:

I must keep a time apart with my Higher Power every day. Gradually Iwill be transformed mentally and spiritually. It is not the praying so much as just being in my Higher Power's presence. The strengthening and curative powers of this I cannot understand, but I can experience them. The poor, sick world would be cured if every day each soul waited before their Higher Power, whatever it may be, for the inspiration to live aright. My greatest spiritual growth occurs in this time apart with my Higher Power.

Thought For The Day:

After that first drink, we had a single track mind. It was like a railroad train. The first drink started it off and it kept going on the single track until it got to the end of the line, drunkenness. We knew this would happen when we sat down at a bar to have the first drink,but still we couldn't keep away from liquor. Our will-power was gone. We had become helpless and hopeless before the power of alcohol. It's not the second drink or the tenth drink that does the damage. It's the first drink. Will I ever take that first drink again? Not today.

Melis

An Unsafe place to be

2006-02-12T17:35:00.000-05:00

My skin is crawling. I want to drink. I want to die. No I don’t want to die. If I drink I will die. What I want is to get away from me that is all I have ever wanted to get out of this skin I am in. All of my vices my crutches have been removed from me. I have removed them. But why I needed them. I needed my coke. I needed my cigarettes. I needed my alcohol. I needed my food. I still do. I still want it. I still want it all. Why can’t I allow myself to have it? Just one line, just one drag, just one shot, just one bag of chips, please I am dying inside. I know why I cant have just one of any of these things-because for me there is no such thing as just one. Just one, turns into way too many. Just one turns into a blackout or seven days of speeding thru life not knowing what is going on.
What is worse is the internal struggle of good and evil. I have been clean from coke for 16 or 17 years and smokes for going on seven years. The real current struggle is with alcohol. I want to drink so bad, yet I don’t. I know what will happen if I do drink, but I don’t really know what life is like clean and sober. Sure, I have 23 days sober, and I really do not want to lose that. It has been a tremendous struggle that I do not want to start all over, but I really want to pick up.
I hate the person I am. I hate the person I have become. I wish I had a zipper right down the center of my body and I could unzip my skin and step out like I step out of my jeans. I want to find a skin that is as comfortable as my most cozy pajamas. I feel warm and safe in my pj’s. I want to feel warm and safe in my skin. I do not want to feel cold and angry and sad and ugly. I hate the me I am and I hate the me I have become. My name is Melis and I am an alcoholic.

Happy New Year?

2006-01-11T20:09:00.000-05:00

Those of you that know me know I have not been here in quite some time. Some of you may care, some of you may not- it makes no difference to me. I have been staying away because I do not feel I can be what everyone wants of me. I have been reminded in cyber and real life numerous times that it is a “New” Year. Now while these people are extremely well meaning in there well wishes, and I am sure this was not what their intention was, when I hear “Happy New Year” or “It is a New Year, all is made better” to me it is like taking a fresh razor blade and pressing it into my wrist and dragging it up my arm toward my heart. My son is still not with me, I hate myself for letting him go. I start fights with my spouse just so maybe she will go away and find someone more deserving of her. Because I certainly am not. My doctor says there is a name for what is wrong with me. Well woo fucking hoo! That makes it all better. I have cyclothmia, which is a different form of bipolar disorder. Guess what? More meds!! Yea!! I went to get contacts the other day and I felt like I was reciting a grocery list when I was listing all my current meds. The newest is Lamictal. It is a seizure drug that supposedly does wonders for mood disorders. So far, I am not impressed. So I am going to end this little tirade before it gets really bad. Those of you that miss me, I am sorry, I miss me too. To the rest of you…..Go to Hell.

Melis the Bitch

What's your element?

2005-10-31T15:10:00.000-05:00

Your element is darkness. You're depressed a lot,
and people just don't seem to understand you...
but in the other end it's a good thing, because
you're a super creative person and probably a
skilled artist.

What's your element? (with absolutely BEAUTIFUL pics, tons of results)
brought to you by

The Eye Color Personality Test

2005-10-31T14:45:00.000-05:00

You chose blue eyes.
You're a very smart, intelligent person. You like
to take things apart, and see how they work,
and sometimes put them back together again. In
your class, you're probably the student who
raises your hand the most, soaking up all
knowledge for future purposes. Sometimes you
can be a bit of a know it all, and you kind of
always have to be right.

The Eye color personality test
brought to you by Quizilla

What Sign of Affection are You?

2005-10-31T14:42:00.000-05:00

cuddle and a kiss on the forehead - you like to be
close to your special someone and feel warm,
comfortable, and needed

What Sign of Affection Are You?
brought to you by

Eyes

2005-10-29T12:11:00.000-04:00

RAVEN EYES

You have Raven
Eyes!
Positive Traits: Intellectual,
Wise, Experienced, Honest,
Trustworthy
Negative Traits: Pompous,
Condescending, Withdrawn, Pessimistic,
Depressed

Your eyes are the windows to your soul. What type of eyes do you have?
brought to you by

The news says it all, or does it?

2005-10-28T14:51:00.000-04:00

Running away.

Why do people run away? No matter what you are running from, you are running from something you can not or do not want to face. Maybe someone did something bad to you, then you must run away so you do not have to face the danger that is there, or maybe you are running from the bad thing that you did.

The following are excerpts from The Canton Repository. The dates will be listed with each one if they are on the article.

CITY DEATH SUSPECT HELD IN CALIFORNIA (September 1978)
A 25-year old man who had been charged last October with murdering a girlfriend was arrested Tuesday (9-5-78) in California.
Fred Merle Fix was arrested by agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Highland and placed in San Bernadino County Jail.
He had been charged with the Oct. 24, 1977 shotgun slaying of Jeroie Sue McGuire, 26, of 901 15th St. NE.
The FBI had been called into the search for Fix last Nov. 23. He had been charged with unlawful flight to avoid prosecution.
FBI spokesmen said Fix had been using the name “Russell David Scott.” They said he was arrested without incident.

…. So you were so much of a man that you ran away from what you had done. You ran all the way to the other side of the country, according to the FBI unlawful flight. You invented a new identity for yourself. Was Russell a better person than Fred was? Was Russell a real man?

ACCUSED MURDERER IS RETURNED (September 14, 1978)
Police Wednesday returned from San Bernadino, Calif., with a prisoner who was arrested on local charges of aggravated murder, attempted aggravated murder and aggravated burglary.
Fred Merle Fix, 25, of 2550 Kirby Ave. NE, was arrested Sept. 5 in Highland, Calif., by Federal Bureau of Investigation Agents.
Fix was charged with the Oct. 24 1977 shotgun slaying of Jeroie Sue Mcguire, 26, of 901 15th St. NE.
Fix’s Whereabouts were unknown since 9:30 p.m. Oct. 24.

…You abbandoned your car some outside of Stark County. The police found it the next morning but you were not in it. To this day I have a burning hatred for El Caminos. I wonder why! Your Mommy said you called her and you sounded lost and confused, but you would not tell her where you were or what was wrong. I wish I could call my Mom.

MAN SAYS INNOCENT TO MURDER (September 15, 1978)
Fred M. Fix, 25, of 2550 Kirby Ave. NE, Thursday was arraigned before Stark County Common Pleas Judge William A. Morris and Pleaded not guilty to charges of aggravated murder, attempt to commit aggravated murder and aggravated robbery.
His trial will be before Common Pleas Judge Harold E. Dehoff. A date has not been set.
He is represented by Frank Menster and Joseph Calabretta.
Fix was returned to Stark County from San Bernadino, Calif., following his arrest on an unlawful-flight warrant issued by the U.S. Dept. of Justice.
Fix is charged in connection with the shotgun slaying of Jeroie S. McGuire, 26, of 901 15th St. NE, during an alleged burglary of her home.
He is also charged with the wounding of Donald Batchel, 22, of Canton.
His whereabouts were unknown since the night of Oct. 24.

…They make it sound like you came to our house with the intent to rob it. That was not your intent. We all know very well what your intent was don’t we?! Or did you time out in sunny California make you forget what you had done? It has been twenty-eight years for me, and I have not forgotten, I will never forget. I wish you would come knock on my door in the middle of the night.

Quotes......

2005-10-25T16:14:00.000-04:00

This is a quote that I came across today that I really felt fit me and I wanted to share it.

I always wanted to be

somebody. If I made it, it's half

because I was game enough to

take a lot of punishment along

the way and half because there

were a lot of people who

cared enough to help me

-Althea Gibson

So, as you go throughthe rest of your day, remember everybody is somebody, even you and I, so thank you for helping me become-ME, and I will continue to help you become-YOU, because these are the greatest people we can be.

Melis

You and me against the world

2005-10-25T15:15:00.000-04:00

"Tell me again Mommy."
You and me against the world
Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world
When all the others turn their backs and walk away
You can count on me to stay
Remember when the circus came to town
And you were frightened by the clown
Wasn't it nice to be around
Someone that you knew
Someone who was big and strong and looking out for
You and me against the world
Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world
And for all the times we've cried
I've always felt that god was on our side
And when one of us is gone
And one of us is left to carry on
Then remembering will have to do
Our memories alone will get us through
Think about the days of me and you
You and me against the world
And when one of us is gone
And one of us is left to carry on
Then remembering will have to do
Our memories alone will get us through
Think about the days of me and you
You and me against the world.
"I love you Mommy."
"I love you too, Baby."
-Helen Reddy
My Mom used to sing this song to us.
I of course did not know how true to life this song would become for us. We have both hung on to this song. I can not speak for my sister, but I would suspect her reasons are quite similar to mine. This song was my Mom's way of saying her goodbye and her final I love you to me, and I to her. I look at it as her way of telling me that she is always there watching over me, us. And when she can't be ther to watch over us, then she knows that we will be able to watch over each other, my sister and I. We have not always done the best of jobs, caring for one another, but I believe that when we were lacking, Mom was there watching, and waiting for us to get it together for one another.

Fred took my mother from me and he took my childhood, but he left me my sister, and he left me my dignity, and my spirit. I have my pride, and I have my love, and no one can ever take those things from me.

I may have bad days and I may not always know which end is the correct end to drink out of, but I will be just fine.
Melis

The outline of life

2005-10-20T23:52:00.000-04:00

When everyone was finally done interrogating me, I spent the night with my little boy friend next door neighbor. I am not sure if my sister was there or not. The only thing I remember specifically from that night was my friends mother telling someone or another that her son had told her that I had told him I said he[Fred] was going to kill my Mom. I do not remember anything else about staying there.
The next thing I remember specifically sitting in the living room of Tony and Joy Ledford's house(friend's of my father's and people that were entrusted with our care) while our Father told my sister and I that my Mother had died. I remember crying finally and being mad at my sister for sitting and coloring through the entire conversation. I didn't know at the time but I was not mad at her really but just mad. There was a lot of things to come in my life. I had a school change coming, I had a new mom coming, I had new responsibilities coming, and I had a trial coming. The little bit of a childhood I did have was long gone. Fred took my Mom, my childhood, my life and replaced it with a tape outline and a pool of blood.

Broken Silence

2005-10-20T15:40:00.000-04:00

It was so quiet. My little sister was still crying, but almost silently. I am sure I was upset and I was probably crying as well. But I do not remember feeling that. I remember being afraid, but at the same time needing to be strong for my sister, for my Mom, for Don and for me. Through the silence I began to hear voices and what sounded like knocking at the front door. They were different voices-one's I had never heard before, but ones that were not frightening. I was still unsure of what to do, but I knew I could not stay in the bathroom forever. I heard what I thought was the little voice in my head telling me "open the door...open the door...open the door" over and over again. I told my sister to stay in the bathroom and not to move until I came back, and I slowly opened the bathroom door. I heard the voice telling me to open the door again. It wasn't in my head, it was coming from the carpet in front of the bathroom door in the hallway. It was coming out of Don-so was a lot of blood-he was hurt. His neck was gone, and his eyes were closed, but he was telling me to go open the door, so I went. I was so, I don't know, shocked I guess by the way he looked that I didn't even noticed my Mom at first. She was lying just a few feet further down the hall, half in the hall and half in the kitchen. She was face down sort of curled up like she had tripped over something and fell down face forward. She had the phone in her hand still up to her ear like she had fallen asleep using the phone. I didn't see any blood at first, but I knew she was not asleep. I looked at her for a split second and someone at the door caught my attention. I snapped my head toward the front door and saw several policemen on our porch asking me to help them get inside. They told me to be careful of the glass. I walked across the kitchen and I remember pushing the chair/stool up to the door. I do not remember what I had to do or why they could not get in, but after I got down from the stool a rush of people came inside. The first policeman helped me back across the kitchen and then took me back to the bathroom with my sister. I was still naked. He helped me get a towel and we got my sister out of the tub. Then he asked me to show him our bedroom so we could get dressed. (and so the others could get the scene under control) I had to call my Grandmother Omie. She was my Mom's Mom. I had to tell her that Fred had come to our house and shot Mom and Don. I told her that they took them to the hospital, and I told her I thought Mom was dead. I told her she needed to come to our house. My Dad came too, someone called him but it was not me. No one told me my Mom had died, I just knew. When they walked us out to take us downstaris to the landlords for questioning and stuff we had to walk past the whole scene again. They one cop carried my sister, but I walked. I saw the pool of blood. I saw the tape outline. The rest of the night was a blur of people and activity and questions and questions and questions. I had to tell so many people over and over again what happened. I didn't mind, but I was tired. Why did I have to keep saying it over and over again? Could'nt someone write it down?

October 1977

2005-10-19T13:09:00.000-04:00

The next few days were kind of hectic. We were trying to get ready for Halloween and we spent a lot of time with Don. He took My Mom and my sister and I a lot of different places. Sometimes to a movie, sometimes to dinner, sometimes he came with us to friends' houses. Don was so much nicer than any one else my Mom was ever with. He spoke to her kindly, he spoke to us nicely, and he never spent the night. He was a real gentleman. I am not saying that they never had sex, but I am saying that he was kind enough and gentlemanly enough about it to make sure we as children never knew about it. Not something I can say for any other man in my Mother life, including my Father. I think he not only enjoyed spending time with my Mom, I think he was worried about her. I think he felt that she was safe as long as he was around. Fred would call and my Mom would hang up on him. He would drive by the house all the time. He never stopped because he knew that was trouble-until October 24.
We had gone to visit a friend of my Mother's, I believe her name was Wanda Knapp(?). She was doing something for Halloween, maybe a party, or giving us some candy or having us for dinner, something. When we arrived home, Mom, Don, my sister, and I were all in a really good mood. Everything seemed normal and ordinary. I don't know the exact time, but it was after dinner time, because my mom sent my sister and I to take a bath. She and Don went into the livingroom to sit on the couch and talk while we took our bath. I remember running the water, and pouring in the bubble bath. I remember both of us taking off all our clothes, and I remember my little sister getting in and standing in the tub while the water continued to run. I was waiting outside of the tub until the water was right to shut it off. All of a sudden I heard my mom shouting and I heard Don say call the police, and I heard Fred screaming to let him in. There was a loud crash, more screaming, and shouting and crying and loud bangs over and over and over. My sister was screaming really loud, I had to get her to stop. I did't not want Fred to know we were here. I was afraid he would find us and hurt us. I held her head in my arms and covered he mouth as tightly as I could and told her to be quiet. I was hard, she was only four, I was scared, she was even more scared. As quickly as it had gotten loud and chaotic, it got eerily silent. I removed my hand from my sisters mouth but we did not leave the bathroom. I did not know what to do. I did not know what I would find on the other side of the bathroom door. My stomach hurt. My stomach has always hurt when I have a bad feeling. I had a very bad feeling. To be continued...

If only

2005-10-05T15:30:00.000-04:00

"Tell your mom that he (Fred) is going to kill my mom someday." That was the last thing I said to my friend that day before I went running down the porch steps to be with my mom. The police were there and they had Fred in hand cuffs. He was steaming mad. My Mom kept telling them she was OK and that they could let him go, but they said they had to take him downtown. She made me go upstairs to watch Tress, since she figured she was awake from here nap by this time. I did not want to leave my mom, but I did what she told me to do. After a little while my mom came up too. She told me everything was fine, but I could tell she was very nervous. She must have check the door lock and looked out the windows a hundred times. I found out later in my life that my mom was supposed to go down to the police station that night and file assault and kidnapping charges on Fred, but she ended up dropping them. If she would have followed through just that one time, maybe she would be here today. Maybe...

And Now I am caught back up!

2005-09-29T16:15:00.000-04:00

So I made friends with the little boy down the street. Some how, even thought my mother provided poor example of healthy relationship between the opposite sexes, we had a fairly good friendship that I can recall. I must say however, it was very short lived. If it were up to me, or him I would imagine, we would probably still be friends today, but, life circumstances sometimes, most times, dictate the way things will go in your life, whether you like it or not. It was not in the cards for us to be friends for very long, in fact, my roots have never been sewn very deep anywhere, with anyone, friend, family or otherwise.

I remember playing with my friend outside a lot in our side yard, in his yard, and in his house. We did a lot of outdoor/boy stuff together, because I was not a doll person so much and I did that stuff with my little sister when she was left in my charge. We were out on his porch playing with his cars one cool October evening. He had the really awesome miniature type hotwheels type cars and we loved to race them on his porch. My Mom had come downstairs and was walking around the side of our house when we saw Fred pull up in his El Camino. I guess my mom was coming to get me for dinner or to tell me it was time to come inside because that was usually the only reason she came out and around that way. Fred got out of the car and walked up to my mom real close and was looking real mean at her. We could’nt hear what he was saying to her because they were too far way, but I knew it was not nice by the look on his face, and the fact the my mom looked like she wanted to run away from him. They stood talking like that for what seemed like forever, but was actually only a couple of minutes. My mom kept shaking her head like she was telling him no. All of a sudden Fred tried to grab for my mom’s arm and my mom backed away from him. He screamed her name and then started chasing her through the yard. The whole time this was going on she was telling him stuff like "No, I don’t want to", "I can’t go with you" , "It is over". He did finally get a hold of her and I saw something shiny in his hand that he was holding close to her, but I did not know what it was. I started to get really worried because he was taking her toward his car. I thought he was going to take her somewhere and leave us all alone for good this time. Fred almost had my mom all the way in the car when a police car came speeding down the street and screeched to a stop in front of Fred’s El Camino. I thought "Boy, we are lucky this time!" …….

Moving on Again

2005-09-29T16:13:00.000-04:00

We moved on from Walnut Street to 901 15th Street. It was not that far of a move, but it was in a better neighborhood and we had our own yard, sort of. We lived in a house that was split into an upstairs downstairs duplex. We lived upstairs. We had a porch and we could use the front and back yards as much as we wanted. We only had to share the yards with the two little boys that lived downstairs and they were very nice. When you walked into our apartment from the porch, you walked right into the kitchen. We had a small Formica top table with vinyl and chrome chairs. We also had one of those stools that you could sit on or use to climb on to reach something in a high cabinet. The hallway went right down the middle of the apartment like a knife splitting it in two ending at the attic door. The bathroom and my Mom’s room were on the left and the living room and my sister and my bedroom was on the right. There was a tiny bit of a jog in the hall way where there would have been a staircase to go to the first floor, but it was closed off, since it was a duplex now. There was a heater vent in the floor and when my mom would have to leave us at home alone, we would talk to the boys down stairs through the vent. It would keep us from being lonely. This happened a lot in the summer as I guess she could not afford to put us in daycare. I was seven and I was a very responsible child. Truth be told, I was probably more responsible than my Mother at times. I know I could cook macaroni and cheese, remember, this was 1977 and we were not rich so we are talking stove cooking. My mom trusted me to do a lot. I walked up the block to the Stop-n-Shop to get us milk and stuff, or sometimes I would be allowed to get us a treat. We were allowed to walk up to the park on the corner of 15th and Rowland as long as I wore my watch. That was about two blocks away. I had to have my watch so I could be home at the time my Mom said. I remember the people that lived below us. They were Greek and them man was our landlord. His name was Elias Paxos. In the mornings sometimes my Mom would drop us off downstairs and the lady would watch us. Elias spoke pretty good English but his wife did not. One morning, probably one of the first ones, she was feeding us breakfast. She was giving us eggs and toast and milk. She asked us something about our breakfast and I did not understand. I looked at Elias and he told me that she wanted to know if we wanted it warm. I assumed she meant our eggs, so I said yes. I could not imagine eating cold or even raw eggs. When our breakfast was put in front of us, I took a drink of my milk and thought I was going to throw-up. I found out very quickly, that it was my milk that I said I wanted warm. So from then on we had to drink warm milk because she never asked again. I do not remember having any friends specifically besides the little boys downstairs, who were way younger than me, and one little boy that lived a house or two down the street. I hung out with him a lot. He was like my buddy. Whenever Fred came around and did something to upset my Mom, I would confide in this boy. Just being able to tell someone else what was going on in my life was a comfort to me even if there was nothing he could do to help me or my family. I really liked this having this kid as a friend. In the weeks ahead I would find out that he would be more of a strength to me than I would ever know.

And Now Back to the Program

2005-09-29T16:12:00.000-04:00

So when we last left you we were living in the apartment on Walnut. Since writing that memory or reciting that memory for you, I have come across some facts that I have conveniently forgotten. I am sure I read these facts once or twice or even a million times, but for some reason they had slipped my mind.

For those of you that may think that I am writing a "story", and not re-telling real-life events as I recall them, or as close to the truth as they happened, or even exactly as they happened, I feel compelled to included a reference at this point. In order to establish a timeline, which I have thus far been unable to do, I refer to an article I have unearthed from the Canton Repository (Canton,Oh) Thursday January 11, 1979 written by Pamela Zander (Sanity at time of crime issue in xxx murder case.) The article and its relevance will be much clearer in later entries, however for this entry the pertinent information is in the ending two paragraph’s. "Mr. McGuire took the stand and said he did go to the trailer home his wife shared with Fix, but Fix "started swinging" and he left after a tussle. According to earlier testimony, Mrs. McGuire and her two daughters at one time resided with Fix at his trailer home but moved out and took the 15th St. home. She was divorced from McGuire in March of 1977.

Now from February/March of 1977 until October of 1977 my mother, my sister and I lived in four different places. One place was with my mom and dad, one was with my mom and her boyfriend Fred, and two were supposed to be just us girls trying to make a better way. According to the newspaper article, my dad had a "tussle" with Fred at his trailer, which was probably either the cause for our moving on, or because we were trying to move out. At the apartment on Walnut, where we lived way up on the fourth floor, my dad came to my mom’s rescue again. I do not know how, what, or why, but I know he ended up back down at the bottom of the stairs and I was told latter in life he ended up with stitches because of that "tussle" with Fred. Fred liked to Box and lift weights and he had a terrible temper. Some of my family told me( when I was an adult) that he used steroids to bulk up, so that may have accounted for a lot of his hostility, that and the fact that he did not want anything to come between him and my mother. Anything he thought was doing that he took as an attack and fought back hard and fast and ruthlessly. Even though my mother broke it off with him numerous times he had it in his mind they would be married. My Mother did finally break things off with Fred, at least as far as she was concerned. She even began seeing another man named Don whom she met while working at the Hoover Company as an inspector. Everyone thought things were over with Fred and my Mom, everyone except Fred.

Miscellaneous Childhood Memories:

2005-09-29T15:13:00.000-04:00

Miscellaneous Childhood Memories:

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These are things I remember about my childhood that are either good, bad or indifferent that don’t fit in. They either don’t fit into the timeline, or they don’t fit in with other memories or they just don’t go with the other stuff.

I used to play out behind one of our houses/apartments. I do not remember there being a yard so much, but there was a gravel driveway and there was a fence of some sort that separated our space from the neighbor’s space. On that fence grew the most fragrant flowers. They were pink and they reminded me of my great-grandmother Neff. I found out much latter in life after smelling them in someone else’s yard and being drawn back into that memory, that they were tea roses.

I also loved spearmint/peppermint plants. We have one growing wild somewhere I used to live. It could have been the same place; it might have been somewhere else. I remember one day brushing against it. I could smell mint chewing gum everywhere! I figured out quickly that the smell was coming from the leaves on this bush at my feet. Being the tomboy that I was, I plucked off one of the leaves and sniffed it tentatively. I decided it smelled just like chewing gum and must be perfectly safe for chewing. And that is exactly what I did. I snatched a couple of leaves and balled them up and into my mouth they went. I do remember my mom getting a little perturbed with my green teeth, but it was worth it.

When I was really little, I think before my sister was born even we had a German Shepherd named King. I used to ride him around like he was a horse. I guess to me, and my little size, he was a horse!!

During the holidays, we got to have our pictures taken with Santa at the mall just like other kids, I do not specifically remember that, but we have pictures of it. What I do remember, is having Santa come to our house and visit us in our house on Christmas Eve. He would come and see if we were being naughty or nice, and ask what we wanted for Christmas that year. It was very cool. Thankfully he was pre-informed of our lists so he was always well prepared. One year I was in bed already because I had gotten into trouble. I haven’t the foggiest idea what I had done wrong, but I knew I was going to miss Santa, and he wasn’t going to have any idea what to bring me. Oh, no I thought what if they told him I was naughty when he got here and I didn’t get anything at all? I was heartbroken. I cried myself to sleep. Later on I was awoken by a little shake. As I rolled over and opened my eyes I saw Santa and my mom. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I was seeing things right. I was, sure enough Santa was standing beside my bed. He heard I was having a rough time he had said and he wanted to tell me that everyone has a bad night and as long as I promised that I would try my hardest to do better, he would not hold one bad night against me. I promised him I would be good from then on and hugged him and rolled over and went back to sleep. The next morning I was the first one awake and in front of the tree. I remember getting a sock monkey and a big stand up doll that was as tall as I was. We have pictures of that doll in the corner of the room, always naked! I guess we forgot to ask for doll clothes!

More to come when the memory strikes!

The Yellow Curtains of Walnut Street

2005-09-29T15:10:00.000-04:00

The place on Walnut St. was a very drab lonely place. It was located downtown across the street from an old mansion that was scary by nature and thus turned into a haunted house. The building we lived in was a gray four story building. When you walked up the crooked cracked sidewalk toward the building you saw eight windows on the left, eight windows on the right and in the middle, a steel door with a screen door that was permanently ajar. All the windows had yellowed roll down blinds keeping their contents private, except two. All the way up on the fourth floor on the right there were bright yellow curtains on the windows. They were the only two windows that showed a definite sign of life. The inside of our apartment was very small. I do not remember a lot of detail about the inside. I do remember that we had a lot of locks on the door. I remember that our, my sister and I, bedroom had two beds, side by side. I remember they were really close together, barely enough room to walk between them.

This apartment was not in a great neighborhood, which is why we had all the locks I would assume. It was the best place that that my mom could afford on what she was making working at Hoover’s factory. She could only work when we were in school, so I am sure it was tough. Fred was no longer allowed to come over. I was glad. I was scared of Fred. Not so much because of what I thought he would do to me, but I was afraid for my mom. He would be so nice and loving one minute and then turn completely in the blink of an eye. When he got angry, he got really angry. He was like a monster.

The one thing I have learned about my mom is that she did not have very much will power, and she was always searching. I am not sure what all she was searching for, but acceptance and love were certainly at the top of the list. Even though Fred was not allowed to come over, he did. Sometimes he got to come in and sometimes not. Sometimes when he came in he was ok the whole time. One time my Aunt Candy was over when he got to come in. It was one of the very few times we had a good time with him. He played with us and threw us up and down on our beds. We had pushed them together so they were one big bed. I remember being happy. That feeling did not last long unfortunately.

Another Meme

2005-09-29T15:08:00.000-04:00

This is from the Meme "Your Name Is" Google Search. Here are my top ten favorites returns:

1. Melissa Is a Micorsoft Word97 Macro virus

2. Melissa Is an ancient title referring to a priestess

3. Melissa Is maybe she is an amaxing woman

4. Melissa Is a given name for a female, meaning "honey bee" in Greek

5. Melissa Is patient, creative and committed

6. Melissa is hard to control

7. Melissa is my friend

8. Melissa is totally awesome and her awesome sweater puppets are juicy

9. Melissa is free to covort and canoodle to the best of her abilities

10. Melissa is Back

Try it out with your name it is quite interesting and fun! Especially if you come up with something similar to my result number 8!!

On a Lighter Note

2005-09-29T15:06:00.000-04:00

I am sitting on my couch this morning. Breathing a small sigh of relief. For those of you that do not know, we have two Chihuahuas. The 8 month old one Benny, went to the vet yesterday to be nuetered. He was not doing so well last night, and he is quite swollen today. I had to stay home with him today because he wants to run and jump and play fight with Buster. I have had to help him up on the couch, and off the couch and on the couch ond off the couch.....did I mention on the couch and off the couch? He has to be walked on a short leash, he hates it. He wants to lift his leg, but cries every time, so he is stuck squatting. Poor baby. He wants to do what all dogs do, lick himself, but mean 'ole Mommy won't let him. He wants to stand on the back of the couch and bark at the neighbors, but he can't get up there by himself. It is 10AM and I think he has exhasted himself. Or maybe it is me he has exhasted. Either way, he is asleep, so I think I should close me eyes for a minute too.

Standards, Morals, Do they even exisist any more?

2005-09-29T15:03:00.000-04:00

"What is your standard of morality? How do you decide what is right and what is wrong?"

That is quote that was posted by a "fellow Blogger" in a comment box on my spouse’s Blog. Now my spouse came to me and said very agitatedly, "I need you to look at something." So I walked over to the computer and stood over her shoulder and waited for the page to load. When it did she pointed to the above quoted comment and said "Read that." After I finished I shook my head and I said, "OK?" Her response was, "How am I supposed to reply to that?" I chuckled a little and said, "you probably shouldn’t, you will end up saying something that is far from this side of morality!" "Yeah, I want to say something along the lines of ‘Fuck You Bitch I am not immoral’ but that probably is not the right thing to do," She said. I told her as I kissed her goodbye this morning and left for work that I would think about the intelligent way to respond, so as not to intentionally offend anyone.

On my way to work today I thought about our life and how it differs from "normal people" as so many like to refer heterosexuals. We have a two-bedroom townhouse in a nice, safe, quiet neighborhood. We have two cars, I am an accountant with a college degree, and Boomer is a chef and an Air Force Veteran. We have a 10-year-old son that loves us very much. We have a house full of furry and not so furry children as well. We work our jobs and deliver papers during the week, and on the weekends we do our errands, mow the lawn, weed the garden, buy the groceries, and visit with friends and family in between. About the only thing we don’t do is go to church. I do not believe in religion, but I do believe there is some higher power in charge. So aside from whom I sleep with compared to whom "you " sleep with there are not many differences. We are all still human beings trying to make ends meet, trying to do what we feel is best for our families, trying to raise good children into loving caring adults.

Now on to addressing the initial topic at the head of this post: "What is your standard of morality? How do you decide what is right and what is wrong?"

In our family we try to live by very basic principles, and we teach these same principles to our son by our example. Most of these principles were taught to each and every one of us either by the time we arrived, or in kindergarten. Everyone; therefore, should be very familiar with them. The first and also the most important one is "Treat others as you want to be treated"; better known as The Golden Rule. The rest is best said by a man, an author named Robert Fulghum.

This is an excerpt from his book All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten

"Share everything. Play Fair. Don’t Hit People. Put things back where you found them. Clean up your own mess. Don’t take things that aren’t yours. Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody. Wash your hands before you eat. Flush. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you. Live a balanced life—learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and laugh everyday some. Take a nap every afternoon. When you go out in the world watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together. Be aware of wonder."

Following this little mantra keeps us living a wholesome life. Maybe not in your eyes, but when my day of reckoning comes I will not be answering to you. So, I must live my life in accordance with what I feel is the best path for me, and do so without causing harm to any other person, which I feel I have done. Which I feel my family is doing. Through example, we tech our son honesty, integrity, trustworthiness and compassion. He also teaches us. He loves us unconditionally, without regard for the fact that his family is not "traditional." He is proud that he has two Moms, and he takes every opportunity to explain the diversity that exists in the world. He knows that there are children with only one parent and ones with two fathers, and ones that live with their Grandparents, and some with Stepparents. He knows that there are people out there of different ethnicities that are married, and that al of this is ok. He has taught us that God made everyone. We did not teach that to him, but that is his belief, and while I may not agree with the "God" aspect of his statement, I respect the sentiment that he is trying to say, we are all the same. I will leave you with this:

LOVE (luv) noun. 1. A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. 2. Strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties 3. Affection based on admiration or common interests.

Meme

2005-09-29T15:01:00.000-04:00

Meme

10 Years Ago: I was 25 and Clayton was just three months old, so was just in the learning stages of being a Mommy and I lived in sunny Florida

5 Years Ago: I was just getting over turning thirty, was one year in to a new loving relationship, and was watching my little Clayton get on the school bus for his first day of Kindergarten

1 Year Ago: I had just graduated from college, finally! And I landed a great job in the field I got my degree in! I also celebrated a five year anniversary with the love of my life.

Yesterday: I worked on my ebay store, did laundry, got groceries, and talked to my not so little Clayton, like I do every Sunday.

Tomorrow: I will go to work, go to the chiropractor (yeah!) and go to Ballpark for Pizza and beer with Boomer and my Mother-in-Law.

5 Bands That I Know The Lyrics to Most of Their Songs: Def Leopard, Indigo Girls, Melissa Etheridge, Melissa Ferrick, Amy Ray

Things I Would Do With $100,000,000: First I would take care of all of the bills that we have and all of our immediate family have. I would buy a house big enough for us and my mother-in-law to live comfortably and not have to see each other if we didn’t want to. Then I would set aside enough money for Clayton to have whatever kind of special eduation he needs now and enough for him and all my nieces and newphews educations. Then I would donate to Research for Cancer, AIDS, Lupus, and MS. I would also use some for the restaurant Boomer and I have always wanted to open. And the rest I would invest for future plans.

5 Locations I’d Like To Run Away To: Ireland, Germany, Bahamas, Alaska, Vermont

5 Habits I Have: I bite my nails, I don’t like to have doors closed, Chew on my lip when nervous, writing anything, I am always thirsty, so I always have something to drink, water, tea, soda, etc.

5 Things I Like Doing: Writing, blogging, making butterflies, playing texas hold ‘em, playing with my Chihuahua’s

5 Things I Would Never Wear: This is a tough one….anything that would fall into the category that my grandmother would pick out. Tube Top, Mini Skirt, Daisy Dukes, Thongs!! That is about all I can say.

5 TV Shows I Like: The L Word, Weeds, Queer as Folk, Extreme Makeover Home Edition, Brat Camp

Enough about me, What about you?

Melis

The Rowland Saga Continues

2005-09-29T14:57:00.000-04:00

The Growing Patio and the Shrinking Family

For those of you that are just joining the continuing saga from Rowland Avenue, or may have missed certain vital details, I will revisit a few of them for you. I do not want any of you to feel lost or confused, and blame me! My parents were married extremely young, and like most all couples that marry young, did so for the wrong reason-me. Never marry for your kids. They will be better off seeing their parents in two different houses happy, than in one arguing and fighting all the time.

Anyway, most of the time that I can remember growing up on Rowland Ave. with both my Mom and Dad is riddled with fights and arguments. They were loud enough to carry all the way to the attic and sometimes I was not sure who was getting hurt the most. My mom was fairly good at fighting with my Dad, and it wasn’t always fighting back either, sometimes she started the fights. Of course I did not have this knowledge when I was little, but it seems they both liked to go off and find companionship else where, since they were not getting it from one another.

My Dad had a friend named Tony. Tony’s buddy Fred needed some work, so he asked my Dad to let him redo the slab of concrete we had out behind our house. They decided to turn it into a patio, so it needed to be a lot bigger than it was. Fred came out and measured the area and broke up the old slab and removed all the old concrete. This took him about a week or so. During this time my Mom, was off from her job at Hoover’s factory. It was the annual shutdown for factory maintenance and cleaning. It was summer time so we were home as well. He seemed like a nice guy, but he was not my Dad and I really did not like how much attention he was paying my Mom, or how much my Mom giggled at his stupid jokes.

One night there was a lot of screaming going on between my Mom and Dad. The yelling went on for what seemed like hours, and then it just all of a sudden stopped with a loud crashing sound. A few minutes later I heard one set of footsteps coming up the stairs. I closed my eyes and pretended to be sleeping. It was my Mom checking on us and making sure we were tucked in good. After she tucked me in, I peeked at her while she tucked in my sister. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying-a lot. I knew things were not right. That noise I heard was probably my Dad leaving. I cried myself to sleep.

Then next morning we got up and sure enough my Dad had left in the night, but he was not staying gone. It seemed that we were the ones leaving. My mom had been up most of the night packing. Fred was there and he was helping her. We were moving in with him. He had a trailer on the other side of town and we were going there. I did not want to go, but I had to. Someone had to keep an eye on my Mom and my sister. We only got to pack up about a quarter of our toys and stuff because Fred only had a two-bedroom trailer so there wasn’t much room. The rest had to stay in our room. That was ok because we would be back. Maybe my Mom would leave most of her stuff here too. By the afternoon, we had everything that we could fit packed up in our station wagon and Fred’s El Camino. I was hoping my Dad would come home before we left so we could kiss him goodbye, but he must have had to work late. He did not make it in time. We would not see him again until they had the regular visitation worked with the divorce. (We got to see him every other weekend)

By the time we got to Fred’s place and got everything inside it was late. We were all really hungry. There was a place right down the street called the PDQ. Fred went there and got us all fish and chips and sodas. I did not know what to do. We were never allowed to have sodas, and fish? My Mom was going to let us eat fish like that? I looked at her and I opened my mouth to say something about the fish and soda, but she gave me a look and shook her head. I knew by the look on her face that I should just eat what was in front of me. I did not know why but I was afraid of Fred. There was something about him that made me edgy. My sister had a really hard time finishing her dinner that night. She was always at the dinner table a lot longer than everyone else was. This made my Dad mad, but it really seemed to irritate Fred. He wanted her done and in bed. That night was the first night my mom ever made her go to bed without finishing her dinner.

We went off and took our bath and got ready for bed. The room we were sharing had a bunk bed in it. I had the top and my little sister had the bottom. We went to bed and I waited for my little sister to fall asleep like usual. When she did, I got up and went out to the living room looking for my Mom. She wasn’t out there so I walked to the kitchen and then through the back of the trailer. I could not find her in any room. My Mom and Fred went out. I went back to our room and I climbed back up into my bed and decided that I wasn’t going to get up to spend time with my Mom anymore. She had replaced me with someone else and she didn’t need me any more. Except I was going to still watch out for her, because I did not trust her new friend. He didn’t even finish the job that he was supposed to do for my Dad. He took out the old concrete and he didn’t put in the new patio.

I heard my Mom and Fred come home sometime later and go in the room they were sharing. They did a lot of giggling and some loud wrestling noises kind of like my Mom and Dad made in their room. I fell back to sleep, and slept through the rest of the night knowing my Mom was back home safe, for now.

Ever Googled yourself?

2005-09-29T14:56:00.000-04:00

I know how it sounds, but this is not one of "those" posts!! I mean go to www.google.com and put in your first name and the plus sign and then your last name and see what comes up. I did this yesterday and got "about 469,000 results" Of course I have a real life outside of the internet so I did not check all 469,000 hits but none of the ones I did check were me. It was intersting though to see how many other people in the world, share the exact same name, spelling as me!! I "googled" a few friends and people that I am not so friendly with, both alive and dead. I was surprised at what I found! I know you are curious. Go on. Try it. You won't be disappointed.

Only in the City of Brotherly Love!

2005-09-29T14:54:00.000-04:00

I leave work at 11:45 and walk briskly from 21st and Market and head down Market towards 15th street. The sky looks overcast, but I think "hopefully I will make it to the chiropractor and back before it rains." I hit 15th and turn right and head for Walnut. Just as I am turning onto Walnut it starts to rain. I think to myself, "You know, you are a dumb ass, if you would have brought the stupid umbrella, it would not be raining!" Oh well, maybe by the time Dr. Dave is done, it will have stopped.

No such luck. I back to feeling all well adjusted and I walk out of the building and it is still sprinkling. Not really a big deal, unless you have to walk six blocks and you are wearing a dry clean only suit. Still not even the biggest problem. The most annoying thing to walking back to the office, is all the nice (word oozing with sarcasm) people carrying umbrella's as though they are the only individuals on the sidewalk!! I swear I must have gotten poked with an umbrella at least six times. And thank god I wear glasses or I would be picking out a glass eye right about now!!

I think I need to go back to see Dr. Dave again I am feeling a little tense!!

Another Episode From Rowland Ave.

2005-09-29T14:53:00.000-04:00

Another episode from Rowland Ave.

So far all the Rowland Avenue posts have occurred between my fifth and sixth year. That puts the time frame at 1975/76 for those of you trying to get into the spirit of the time. As I believe I may or may not have mentioned already, I was a serious thumb sucker. My mom tried everything in the book to get me to stop. She probably added new things to the book, hot sauce, pepper, that nail bitter nail polish that tastes really bitter, even Comet once, but nothing worked. I continued that habit until I was about nine. I also was a pretty serious nail bitter. Well, one day I was picking/biting at my nails, fixated on my thumb nail in particular. I ended up picking it way down past the quick, and was continuing further, when someone said something to me and startled me. I ended up ripping my thumbnail about half way off. Not all the way, but enough that it was very painful and it would get stuck on just about everything. When I showed it to my mom, she get upset with me for doing something that painful to myself, telling me that I was going to get an infection and my thumb would fall off, you know the typical things moms say to try and scare their kids into not trying things a second time. After that she put a Band-Aid on it to try to keep it safe until it grew out to a safe length that it could be cut.

Now back then we had those yucky flame retardant nightgowns that were supposed to keep kids safer in case their house caught fire in the middle of the night. It was a good thing they were flame retardant since they created enough static electricity to cause the child to spontaneously combust!! Every night after I took my bath my Band-Aid would fall off my thumb and I would get nail stuck in my stupid nightgown. I would have to trudge downstairs all twisted up and have my mom or dad get it loose and untangle me. It was ok when my mom would do it because she did it easy and made sure not to hurt me. When my dad had to do it, he would huff and complain and threaten to just rip it off and be done with it. He was always too rough and I would always go away and cry because it hurt. He probably hurt my feelings more than my thumb. One night, after my bath I trudged down stairs stuck again. I went into the dining room and asked my mom to help me. She was trying to get my little sister to finish up her dinner, so she sent me to get my dad to do it. He was in the living room reading his newspaper. I walked in and told him I was stuck again. He told me he was busy to go ask my mom to do it. I told him she had already told me to come to him. He got real mad and flung his newspaper to the side and snatch at me to bring me closer to him. He mumbled about how ridiculous it was that I could not get my pajamas on by my self and all he wanted to do was read his newspaper in peace and quiet. With that he grabbed my nightgown with one hand on either side and gave one swift tug and my nightgown was down wear it belonged. I let out a whimper and grabbed my thumb and ran to my mom. She asked me what was the matter and all I did was hold up my hand. She could see the blood oozing out from where my hand was squeezing my thumb. She quickly carried me into the kitchen and hoisted me onto the kitchen counter. She placed my hand under the kitchen faucet and turned on the cold tap as cold as it would get. As the water washed away the blood she could see that the nail was completely gone, my father had been so annoyed that he actions had caused my nail to be forced from the bed when he yanked at my gown. Every time she pulled my thumb form under the water the red life oozed out again. It took about two hours of pressure to get the bleeding to stop that night. My mom held me in her arms in the breakfast nook until I finally fell asleep. The next day, I did not have to go to school because I had to go see Dr. Graham, my pediatrician. He put one of those finger splints on my thumb and showed me how to take care of it. You would think that would have broken me of the thumb sucking habit because I had to wear it for a month. Nope. I just switched to the other thumb while I was waiting for my favorite thumb to heal. My mom told me I should not be mad at my dad. She said some times people do things when they get upset and sometimes people get hurt. But she said he did not mean to hurt me, and I might only have him some day, so I should always love him. He never said he was sorry. I remember thinking even when people do things by accident, they are supposed to say they are sorry. He didn’t. Well, like Mom said he is my Dad, and I should always love him.

Just When I Think,

2005-09-29T14:51:00.000-04:00

Lately I have felt like I have been starting to feel better, emotionally. While I still miss my son tremendously I feel like maybe I or more correctly we have done the right thing by sending him to live with his Grandparents. He seems to be happier, he seems to be less aggressive, and he seems to be handling his disease a lot better. The fact that he has so many more family members there than just the two of us, seems to be good for him. His teacher has called and says so far he is doing well. I am, we are happy for him, we are happy he is beginning to do better.

But the something happens and I am right back in the thick of the emotional tornado again. Tonight, I was taking out the trash. I know, that sounds really stupid. But, I was gathering up the trash and remembering how we used to have to remind him to replace the bags after he emptied the cans every week and I smiled. Then I was hauling the cans to the street and I burst into tears. I came back into the house and I sat in the middle of the living room floor and I realized that I would gladly remind him of how to do his chores over and over again, if he was just here. And then I had to get up because my little Chihuahua’s were frantically licking the tears from my face almost quicker than they were coming out. That made me feel a bit better. I took them for a walk for making me feel better.

More From Rowland Ave.

2005-09-29T14:50:00.000-04:00

I remember walking to school from our house on Rowland Ave. The road had a jog in it. You walked out the front door and down the porch steps; and if no one was watching (and you weren’t wearing a stupid old dress) you climbed up on the handrail that stretched the length of the steep downhill driveway and pretended this was the only way to get across the river full of alligators. (What an imagination I used to have!) You didn’t want to get caught by my Dad doing this though. I would rather be eaten by the alligators than have private time with him and his belt. Anyway, at the end of the driveway you turned left and headed down the street toward the jog in the road. There was a house that sat right smack in front of the jog in the road and it had a guardrail up in front of it. One night someone, forgot to turn their car and follow that jog and ended up plowing their car into the living room of the house and killing the father that lived there with his wife and three kids. The adults all whispered that the driver had had too much to drink. I remember wondering why someone would not be able to drive right if they drank too much. Of course I was only five or six years old so I had no idea they meant alcohol.

Anyway, back to my walk to school. When you get to the jog a crossing guard crosses you to the other side of the street and you continue your journey to Belle Stone Elementary. Mostly the walk was past houses, except for the Italian sausage store. That place smelled terrible in the morning and great in the afternoon. Another one of those things I didn’t figure out until later in life. I thought it was because all the sausage sat all alone all night and there was probably no electricity when no one was there. Turns out it was a raw vs. cooked thing-who knew! My walk to school was only really two and a half blocks, but I was a wondering in mind, spirit and body, so my mom was always getting calls about my tardiness. I was probably the only first grader with a watch that new how to tell time, and would walk in the class almost everyday and look at the teacher and say "I am only five minutes late today, that’s better than yesterday’s fifteen!"

One year we had a blizzard, it was ’75 or ’76 because those are the only two tears we lived in that house as a whole family unit. It took them several days to get everything plowed so we could get around and get back to school. I got to school on time for the first time ever that first day back. The snow was piled so high everywhere, that there was nothing for me to look at, in fact once I was on the side walk you could not see me, and I could not see anything on either side of me except snow!

In the summer we used to cut through this one old guys yard and steal rhubarb out of his garden. I used to love eating that stuff raw right out of the ground. Of course I would always over do it and end up with a belly ache.

My mom was always trying to do things to make me more independent, not that I had any clingy or dependency issues, I just think she was trying to prepare my for life. She would do things like have me sit in the front seat of the car and watch her drive to my grandmother’s house (Omie) So I would know how to get there from our house if I ever needed to. She did this several times and then, she made me walk it. The first time I did it I was really scared, but I didn’t want her to know. I wanted my mom to be proud of me and I wanted her to be able to depend on me. Remember I was still on five or six years old at the time. She followed me the whole way in the car, but I did not know she was following me. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to me, but she wanted me to think I was doing it all by myself. And I did. I got to Omie’s house and Omie was on her porch waiting for me. She had the McDonald’s hamburgers and small fries, one for everyone because Omie was rich, or so I thought when I was little. I was very proud of myself that day. Little did I know that was only the beginning of my growing up fast. You could say it was the beginning of the end of my childhood and the start of my adulthood at such a young age. More to come.

The House On Rowland Ave.

2005-09-29T14:37:00.000-04:00

When my father finally saved enough to buy us a house of our own it was on Rowland Ave. We still lived in Canton, just in a little bit better of a neighborhood. Just on the cusp of a little better, I should say. In, fact, one year I was going to Belle Stone Elementary which apparently was the better of the elementary schools, and the next year due to he district reorganization (something I think had to do with desegration) we had to go to Gibbs. While I did not have any problems going there, my parents did not like it at all and for the next school year they listed my address as my Grandmother’s address so I could go back to Belle Stone. The house was really nice; I liked it a lot. It was four stories including the basement and attic. Even though I have not been inside the house for about 30 years and I can still remember every room and every detail of the house. The front porch was the full length of the front of the house. The siding was like brown wooden shingles and the trim around the windows, white. The house sat atop a huge steep hill, but the property was only a city lot size so the top of the hill went out about two feet from the porch and then drop almost straight down to the sidewalk. The back yard was flatter and a little larger as it backed up to an alley way. When you walked through the front door, you stepped into the living room. It was decorated with the ’70 green shag carpet and mustard yellow velvet curtains. Our couch was that velvety material two in the same mustard yellow as the curtains. The wall paper that was on all of the first floor was green or yellow or red with black velvet designs on it. Apparently in was in style back then. The dinning room was off to the left of the living room. We had a walnut dining table and matching hutch and those were the only two things that were ever in that room, except my sister, who seemed to be sitting at the table trying to finish her dinner! From both the living room and the dining room you could access the kitchen, kind of like a big circle. The kitchen had the standard issued 70’s green appliances and the yellow gingham curtains. We also had a kitchenette.(That’s what my Mom called it) It was where we usually ate when my dad was working late, which was most of the time. From the kitchen you could take the staircase up to the second floor, or down one landing to the back door out to the back yard, or down further to the creepy basement. I will take you up because I never liked going in the basement!

At the top of the stairs directly to your right was the bathroom. I remember where the tub and toilet and sink and stuff was placed but as far as specific details about the bathroom, I do not have them. For some reason they are blocked from my memory. On this floor there were three bedrooms, and one of the was the master bedroom that was used by my parents. I am really not sure what the other two rooms were used for, because my sister and I shared the attic as our room. Sometimes it was hot up there, but my dad had refinished real nice and painted all the walls bright yellow, so it was pretty. We had a lot of room up there. If I wanted to play with my little sister I could, and if I wanted to go off and play by myself there was plenty of room for that. I had a lot of tomboy toys that I did not her touching and there were a lot of cubby holes to hid them in. I used to play barbies with my sister sometimes, but only if she let me be ken, because he did not have to walk around in those high heeled shoes and he didn’t have to cook!!

I remember at bedtime my mom used to make me go to bed with my sister and pretend to be sleeping just until she fell asleep because she would not go to sleep alone. Then I was allowed to sneak down stairs and my mom would have a bowl of chicken-n-dumplins waiting for me. It was in one of those ceramic bowls with the handle on the side. It made me feel very warm and special. It still does when I think back to it. There are a lot of memories from the house on Rowland……

Freindship and Me

2005-09-29T14:36:00.000-04:00

"A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." -Walter Winchell

This is the kind of friend I have always tried to be. I have never been a fair weather friend, although I have had quite a few of them myself. A lot of the people that I thought were true friends ended up not being so. When I finally decided to become true to myself, and follow my heart and be the me that I knew deep down that I was, that is when most of my "true" friends started to become more and more distant. The type of friend I am though, if any one of them were to call me up right now and need me, I would be there for them. Because that is what friendship is about to me. Being there no matter what.

Melis

The Evils of Filet-O-Fish

2005-09-29T14:19:00.000-04:00

When we were young my Mother did not work a regular job. When my mom did work on occasion, it was at the bowling alley bar or some other local bar as a waitress for extra money for stuff that we normally couldn’t afford. Things we wouldn’t need on a regular basis, but did need. You know, school clothes, Christmas presents, stuff like that. My dad was an auto mechanic so he was our bread winner, but we were by no means well off. We lived in many different places before my dad finally bought us our first house. I do not recall ever going out to dinner with my Mom and Dad and sister, ever. That was a luxury we just could not afford I guess. In the summer time we had a little jar that she keep a little of this money in so we could get a little treat from the ice cream man. One thing that we did get as a treat on occasion was McDonalds. Usually my mom would get us a couple of hamburgers and a small fry to share. If we had enough extra money, he would let me get a fish sandwich that was my favorite. There was only one drawback. My mom had this thing about fish and fish bones. She had an irrational phobia that someone would choke on a fish bone while eating a McDonald’s fish sandwich. So, when she let me have one I couldn’t eat it like a sandwich. She would cut it up in little pieces and I had to eat it with a fork. The whole time she would say “make sure you are chewing it up really good, so you don’t choke on a bone!” So I was an adult before I finally got to eat a fish sandwich whole. It took me fifteen plus years to realize filet-o-fish was not all that great, but I still go get one every once in a while just for the flood of memories it brings back. More to come….
Melis

In The Begining....

2005-09-29T14:16:00.000-04:00

I could fill page after page with other people’s recollections of the early years, but then this wouldn’t be my story would it? I am going to give you what I do have. It may seem like maybe I wasn’t there because there is some much missing from time to time. Sometimes it will seem like I am standing outside a window on the house of my life looking in watching it all happen to others. Other times it will seem as though I am an active participant actually living life as I explain it to you. All of the perspectives are true and accurate. I have experienced and continue to experience my life in each of these ways. Good or Bad? Both I guess. But it is real and it is my life, and it is the only one that I have, so I must live it to the best of my ability, because the other alternative, well it is just not an option for me. And so begins………My Life

Wow the early years! I will probably have to revisit this section several times before I have all the information that I need to complete it, since quite a few of the key players in my life are no longer on the field, if you know what I mean. They have moved on to the field of dreams. But I digress; Jim falls head over heels for a red headed high school sweetheart named Sue sometime in the late sixties. As teenagers will do, even back in the “old” days they got in a bit of trouble and ended up in the chapel saying “I do” way before either of them had a clue what “I do” meant. If I have my timing right the blessed event was in September of 1969 and was followed shortly thereafter by another blessed event. The birth of the newlywed’s first born. That would be me. I was born on June 28, 1970 at 12:28 AM. I weighed around 6 pounds and was like 19 or 20 inches, you know just normal. I didn’t know it then, since I didn’t know much except I should keep sucking in and out for the vital things like air and food, but my daddy was less than pleased with the fire engine red fuzz that covered my head Turns out he liked my mom, but not because of her red hair particularly. I would imagine that they took me home from the hospital (because I grew up.) Three years later, another surprise came along. This one was T.R. and she had white fuzz all over her head, which made my Dad a lot happier. I didn’t really like her. She was almost born on my birthday, she came on July 2, and I thought she looked like the ugly duckling from one of my story books. For about six months my mom kept the little hat on her head that the hospital sent her home in. Her hair was turning red and she didn’t want my dad to see it. I didn’t care. I figured if he saw it then he could hate us equally. We lived in Canton, Ohio in several different apartments, duplexes, rental houses, and the like. One I can remember in particular was on 9th street. It was an old house that was split into five different apartments, two upstairs, two downstairs, and a basement unit. We lived in the lower right hand unit, my Dad’s sister and husband lived in the upper left, and Jack, my Grandmother’s boyfriend lived in the basement unit. (He was not her boyfriend yet.) It was fun there because I had a lot of friends in the neighborhood to play with, some of them where even nice to my sister. It was close to Mother Goose Land and the Canton Park System, and the Football Hall of Fame. I loved going to Mother Goose Land. They had all the tales from her books there and you could pretend to be part of the stories. You could join Goldilocks and the Three Bears or The Three Little Pigs and The Big Bad Wolf, Old Mother Hubbard, or The Little Old Lady Who Lived in the Shoe. She was my favorite. She had nothing, but managed to get what her kids needed everyday, barely, but she did. My Mom would walk us to the park when she could so we could play there. There were ducks and swings and a big pond in the middle. The only thing I knew about the Hall of Fame as a kid was that the parade block the route my Dad needed to use to get to work and he didn’t much care for that. He used quite a bit of colorful language to express it as well. There was a little old lady that lived in the house next to us. In her front yard she had this really old cherry tree. We were always getting yelled at to stay out of her yard, because she did not like kids at all. That and the fact that my friends and I would all run up in a group of about six or eight and steal as many cherries as we could before she could get down off her porch to chase us with her cane! As soon as she hit the bottom step we all would scatter in a million directions. It was during one of these cherry hijackings that I got my first real taste of pain at the hands of my father.
As the old lady hit her bottom step, I turned tail and headed for our porch. As I reached for our doorknob, I looked back and the old lady was still following me. I turned the knob and full force threw my weight into the door-it wouldn’t budge. It was locked! I forgot I was being babysat upstairs at my Aunt and Uncle’s. I turned around and headed for the TV antennae. You know the kind with triangular rungs that go from the ground all the way to the roof and then some. Well ours was rusty and falling apart, but I had done this a million times, just not in such a hurry. Well after about three quick steps up, I thought I was home free, that is until my left foot slide inside the antennae and in a split second I slammed down onto my pubic bone, much like what happens when you are riding a boys bicycle and stop too suddenly, and the I fell backward whacking my back against the outer portion of the antennae. My legs entangled somewhere in the middle. While I was hanging there upside down and in pain trying to figure out how I was going to get down, and get in the least amount of trouble possible. I felt something trickle from my private area and out onto my stomach and up my chest heading for my face. I lifted my shirt to see what it was and let out this blood curdling screech that might have actually been capable of stopping my own bleeding if I had been able to stay still long enough. Well that scream was loud enough to get all the people supposed to be keeping me outta trouble up and out there, and it got the old lady to turn heel and concede for the time being. I knew it was not the end of it with her though. It seems I managed to catch myself just the wrong way and got a pretty deep gash. My Aunt and Uncle didn’t seem to know what they should do, they held my legs together with a towel on the cut, and called my Dad. He came home, took a quick look under the towel, carried me inside, went to the bathroom, laid me in the tub, and poured Mercurochrome on it. I cried out that it hurt and he patted me on the head said my Aunt would be in to help me feel better and went back to work. That was just the beginning of the hurt that I would endure at his hands. It was always disguised as care. Isn’t that always the way it is? I am guessing my Mom was working this day as well, because I do not recall where she was, but there will be a lot of that…..stay tune for part two....

Another Funny

2005-09-29T14:15:00.000-04:00

This was forwarded to me by a friend and I thought it worth a good laugh. It is for all the smart women and the men who love us.
In the hospital the relatives gathered in the waiting room, where their family member lay gravely ill.
Finally, the doctor came in looking tired and somber.
"I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news," he said as he surveyed the worried faces.
"The only hope left for your loved one at this time is a brain transplant.
It's an experimental procedure, very risky but it is the only hope.
Insurance will cover the procedure, but you will have to pay for the brain yourselves."
The family members sat silent as they absorbed the news. After a great length of time, someone asked, "Well, how much does a brain cost?"
The doctor quickly responded, "$5,000 for a male brain, and $200 for a female brain."
The moment turned awkward. Men in the room tried not to smile, avoiding eye contact with the women, but some actually smirked.
A man unable to control his curiosity, blurted out the question everyone wanted to ask,
"Why is the male brain so much more?"
The doctor smiled at the childish innocence and explained to the entire group, "It's just standard pricing procedure. We have to mark down the price of the female brains, because they've actually been used."

Happy! Happy! Joy! Joy!

2005-09-29T14:10:00.000-04:00

Happy hour

Let’s go out after eight hours of working and celebrate with the same people we trudge through our mundane day with. During the eight hours we are paid to spend with these people we pretend that we like them. We walk through the office with the smiles painted on our face either with the lipstick if you are female or you just have the facial muscles trained, for the males. If you happen to be walking through the halls to the restroom and look up and just the wrong time and catch the eye of the person walking the opposite direction you have to perk up your smile and say the cursory “Hello, how are you?” and then wait for a response. As if that is not bad enough, some people feel it is necessary, even a good time, a “Happy Hour” to- the second the time clock reaches the five-o’clock mark-race down to the bar and then begin to pay to spend their own hard earned money having watered down libations with these same people that they spent all day avoiding eye contact with. What is the attraction? Tonight I went because one of my closest co-workers graduated his masters program. I did not feel any closer to these people, I did not feel any lighter of mood or Happier as you would think the “hour” would suggest. All I really felt was a little lighter of pocket and f course after three beers a tiny bit lighter in the head. Go figure.

2005-09-29T14:09:00.000-04:00

Little boy lost….
The boy is now ten. He is grown in so many ways some good and some not so much. He has so many things going against him. He has inherited bipolar disorder from my family, and right now it is spiraling out of control. He has several other co-existing disorders that stem from or exasperate his condition. At one moment he is the most loving child you could meet, and the next he wants to kill you.
He has been getting considerably worse for two years. This year he is completely uncontrollable. He refuses to do his class work for his teachers. He will not do homework. He swears at us, and calls me names that I would never call my worse enemy, much less my mother. He steals and lies. When he wants to go some where and we tell him no, he goes any way. He gets up in the middle of the night and eats and drinks whatever he wants. If we didn’t give him his medication and stand over him and watch him swallow it, he wouldn't take it. He stole from home, he stole from daycare, and he stole from school. He took whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, no matter who it belonged to. It was a normal week for me to get three or four calls from his teacher about "what he did today."
In the evening when we would be getting dinner and doing the normal evening routine, he would get agitated about normal things, like doing his chores, or taking a bath. He would strike out at the dogs in anger, just because they were there. He would hit me because I was the one making him do whatever it was he didn’t think he should have to do. There were times that living with him, was like living in hell. Except, I knew that what he was doing was his bipolar disorder, not him personally. Living with a child with mixed mania bipolar that is not medication regulated for one reason or another is like being on a roller coaster going out of control where your safety harness is about to snap. Just when you begin to visualize that, imagine being inside the brain of the child who has the disorder. It has been compared to having a storm in their brain.
Our son was at his end. He was quickly wearing out his welcome everywhere, school, daycare, and unfortunately home. Not that he wasn’t welcome at home, but we no longer knew how to control him. His phychiatrist wanted to send him to a residential treatment facility, which we were considering for a while. However, there are way too many bad things that happen to little boys at places like that.
So, our son, my flesh and blood, is no longer living in our home. He has been sent to live with the people that tried to raise me. I am content in the knowledge they are slightly different people then they were back then. I am terrified that they are still the same, at least somewhat. But they are the lesser of two evils.
I knew it would be hard to send him away, even to some place familiar, even with family. What I didn’t count on was that my heart was going to break in two when he hugged me goodbye. What I didn’t count on was that my heart was going to break in to when he said, "I love you Mom" when he walk away and step onto the plane. What I didn’t count on was my heart breaking in two each and every time I hang up the phone after talking to him every week.
I miss my little boy lost….

She Stirred When I Kissed Her

2005-09-29T14:08:00.000-04:00

I kissed her on the cheek as she lay sleeping -and in some other perfect world, she stirred, feeling my kiss, starting to smile to herself in a dream- but this was not some other perfect world- this was here, tonight- in our living room- she did not softly smile- she jumped when I kissed her- startled into reality- halfway between a nightmare and the one who would be her savior- Yes, I kissed her on the cheek tonight, as she lay sleeping, in our living room, on our couch- I bent over and I let my lips brush against her cheek- and violently, she jumped, her hands instantly raised to defend herself, to protect her little girl child- the child inside who had never grown up- I hated him, I hated him, Yes, I kissed her on the cheek tonight- in our living room, in our house, in our sanctuary but for a moment she didn’t know that I had kissed her- in the split second before she truly woke, it was not me she saw- it was him- and the little girl relived the nightmare, as she had countless times before- it was him she felt and for that I hared him- for taking part of my baby from me- a part of her so terrorized, that I would never really relate to what she felt- I hadn’t been there- I hadn’t lived through it- and had I been there, he would be dead right now- but he is alive and breathing- in the big house up on the hill- and sometimes I go there with here- and I smile because that is what she wants me to do- but inside, I am seething with my hate for him- but I keep smiling- she says he is an old man now- that he has changed- that he is not the same man who did those things to his daughters- too frail now to beat the brains out of his son- when she talks about him she speaks with respect- but behind those loyal little girl words is a fear, a terror that no one will ever share- I want to tell him that I know about him- I want to tell him that he didn’t get away with it- that I know, and that I will tell the whole world just what kind of monster he really is- Mr. retired executive, you are just a piece of shit in my book- one time I went into his den and there was a picture of him, shaking hands with the president of the united states- everyone was all smiles- Well Mr. President, you are shaking hands with a child molester, you are shaking hands with the lowest form of life ever to slither on this earth- Mr. President, shake hands with his oldest daughter, the one who has been in and out of psych wards all her life- and Mr. President, shake hands with his youngest daughter who drove the wrong way onto an expressway at full throttle, looking for a way out of her nightmare- Mr. President, shake hands with his emotionally crippled son who could never leave his bedroom till he was fifty years old- and then Mr. President when you are all done shaking hands, come to our house, into our living room, over to our couch, where my baby is gently sleeping- lean over Mr. President and lightly place a kiss on her cheek- but stand back- so she won’t hit you when she jumps- and then Mr. President, you can turn around and wipe away my tears.

Doing our Part

2005-09-29T12:08:00.000-04:00

Below Is what my office is doing to help with the relief for those suffering the devastation of Hurricane Katrina and the press release from our corporation showing their commitment to corporate giving. I am looking through my brief case and my desk drawers now to see what I can contribute!

Melis

Below is a press release about Commerce Bank's "Coins for Caring" Program to aid the victims of Hurricane Katrina. To help with this effort, CCMI has a red box located by the executive offices here at One Commerce Square, where we will be collecting loose change to support the American Red Cross.

We will take the coins to the local Commerce store...count it in the Penny Arcade, and donate the full amount to this emergency relief effort.

Thanks in advance for your generosity in helping those who really need our support during these difficult times.....

Commerce Bank Launches 'Coins for Caring' Program to Aid Victims of Hurricane Katrina

Thu Sep 1, 2005 9:24 AM ET

Commerce Bank Launches 'Coins for Caring' Program to Aid Victims of Hurricane

Katrina

CHERRY HILL, N.J., Sept. 1 /PRNewswire-FirstCall/ -- Commerce Bancorp,

Inc. (NYSE: CBH) announced today that it has launched a "Coins for Caring"

campaign to support the American Red Cross efforts to aid the victims of

Hurricane Katrina, which slammed the United States' Mississippi Gulf Coast

region earlier this week. Commerce will match contributions up to a total of

$50,000.

(Logo: [link])

Throughout the month of September, Commerce will encourage anyone with

spare change to use the bank's free Penny Arcade coin counting machines and

then donate all, or a portion of, the money to the emergency relief effort.

Penny Arcades can be found in all of Commerce's nearly 350 stores located

throughout the Metro Philadelphia, Metro New York, and Metro Washington, D.C.

markets.

The self-service, easy to use Penny Arcade machines convert loose change

into dollars and are conveniently located next to the teller counter at every

store. In addition, all Commerce stores are open seven days a week, including

the upcoming Labor Day weekend and Monday, September 5.

"With a disaster of this magnitude, the need for aid is enormous and

immediate," said Commerce Bank's Founder and Chairman Vernon W. Hill.

"Assisting people in need is a vital element of our longstanding community

service heritage, and we hope to rally the support of many people throughout

the markets we serve. Together we can provide much needed assistance to the

countless victims whose lives have been devastated by this life-altering

storm."

All funds collected will be used by the American Red Cross to directly

benefit the victims of Hurricane Katrina.

About Commerce Bank

Commerce Bank, "America's Most Convenient Bank," is a leading retailer of

financial services with nearly 350 convenient stores in New Jersey, New York,

Pennsylvania, Delaware and new markets Connecticut, Washington, D.C., and

Virginia. Overall, Commerce plans to open 50-plus new locations and create

1,800 new career opportunities throughout its footprint in 2005. The bank

will expand into southeast Florida in early 2006. Headquartered in Cherry

Hill, N.J., Commerce Bancorp (NYSE: CBH) has $33.4 billion in assets and, in

second quarter 2005, achieved a deposit increase of 28% and earnings per share

growth of 15%. For more information about Commerce, please visit the company's

interactive financial resource center at [link].

Forward-Looking Statements

The Company may from time to time make written or oral "forward-looking

statements," including statements contained in the Company's filings with the

Securities and Exchange Commission, in its reports to stockholders and in

other communications by the Company, which are made in good faith by the

Company pursuant to the "safe harbor" provisions of the Private Securities

Litigation Reform Act of 1995.

These forward-looking statements include statements with respect to the

Company's beliefs, plans, objectives, goals, expectations, anticipations,

estimates and intentions, that are subject to significant risks and

uncertainties and are subject to change based on various factors (some of

which are beyond the Company's control). The words "may," "could," "should,"

"would," "believe," "anticipate," "estimate," "expect," "intend," "plan," and

similar expressions are intended to identify forward-looking statements. The

following factors, among others, could cause the Company's financial

performance to differ materially from that expressed in such forward-looking

statements: the strength of the United States economy in general and the

strength of the local economies in which the Company conducts operations; the

effects of, and changes in, trade, monetary and fiscal policies, including

interest rate policies of the Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System

(the "FRB"); inflation; interest rates, market and monetary fluctuations; the

timely development of competitive new products and services by the Company

and the acceptance of such products and services by customers; the willingness

of customers to substitute competitors' products and services for the

Company's products and services and vice versa; the impact of changes in

financial services' laws and regulations (including laws concerning taxes,

banking, securities and insurance); technological changes; future

acquisitions; the expense savings and revenue enhancements from acquisitions

being less than expected; the growth and profitability of the Company's non-

interest or fee income being less than expected; unanticipated regulatory or

judicial proceedings; changes in consumer spending and saving habits; and the

success of the Company at managing the risks involved in the foregoing.

The Company cautions that the foregoing list of important factors is not

exclusive. The Company does not undertake to update any forward-looking

statement, whether written or oral, that may be made from time to time by or

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Homophobia and You

2005-09-29T11:24:00.000-04:00

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.

I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.

I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.

We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.

I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.

I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.

I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.

We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.

I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.

I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.

I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.

I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn’t have to always deal with society hating me.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.

I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.

Re-post this if you believe homophobia is wrong.

On a Lighter Note....

2005-09-29T11:11:00.000-04:00

I thought I would share some dry witty humor with you all. These were passed on to me by someone I work with and I enjoyed them all.
I am sure you have seen these before, but I had and still laughed at them. Of course, work is not the only place where you can use these gems. Enjoy!

Things Stressed Women Say at Work

1. Okay, okay! I take it back. Unscrew you.
2. You say I'm a bitch like it's a bad thing.
3. Well this day was a total waste of make up
4. Well, aren't we a damn ray of sunshine?
5. Don't bother me, I'm living happily ever after.
6. Do I look like a people person?
7. This isn't an office. It's hell with fluorescent lighting.
8. I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left.
9. Therapy is expensive. Popping bubble wrap is cheap. You choose.
10. Why don't you try practicing random acts of intelligence and senseless acts of self-control?
11. I'm not crazy. I've been in a very bad mood for 30 years.
12. Sarcasm is just one more service I offer.
13. Do they ever shut up on your planet?
14. I'm not your type. I'm not inflatable.
15. Stress is what you have when you wake up screaming and you realize you haven't gone to sleep yet.
16. Back off!! You're standing in my aura.
17. Don't worry, I forgot your name too.
18. I work 45 hours a week to be this poor.
19. Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.
20. Wait...I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.
21. Chaos, panic and disorder...my work here is done.
22. Ambivalent? Well, yes and no.
23. You look like shit. Is that the style now?
24. Earth is full. Go home.
25. Aw, did I step on your poor little itty bitty ego?
26. I'm not tense, just terribly, terribly alert.
27. A hard-on doesn't count as personal growth.
28. You are depriving some village of an idiot.
29. If assholes could fly, this place would be an airport.
30. Look in my eyes...do you see one ounce of gives-a-shit?
I hope you have enjoyed this commercial break from my depressed mood!!! I know I have

Hurry, Hurry

2005-09-28T14:40:00.000-04:00

It is five o'clock...gotta go....the train is coming....gotta go......the train will be there in fourteen minutes.....gotta go.....gotta hurry.....fourteen minutes......oops.....twelves minutes.....gotta hurry.....the light.....please change....hurry hurry.....okay.....wait...the cars...move...move....okay....hurry hurry......ten minutes.....the train will be there in ten minutes......two more blocks to go before I am in the station....the intersection is blocked...move move....what are you doing....don't you know I will be late?....I can't be late!......five more minute and the train will be gone from the station....one more block to go......go!...go!...go!....at the stairs....down the stairs....into the station....down to the platform....one more minute before the train arrives....looking at the screen for the arrival times......the train is delayed....five minutes.....ten minutes......as always it is hurry up and wait....just like everything in life.........ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two one, the train is finally here!......I board, and I wait another sixty minutes before I arrive to my destination, not my final destination, but my vehicle that will take me to my final destination.....I quickly get off the train and I make the walk to my car briskly, I must hurry to make my final destination in time.....I get to my car I turn the key, I put it into drive and I accelerate. I drive to the townhouse with the flowers in the front and the bright blue chair on the porch. I park in the drive and I hurry up the walk. I put my key in the door, and I open and shut the door and I say hello and all I hear in return is the echo of my own voice. I realize that I rushed home to.........no one. I love you too.

The Continued Ramblings

2005-09-28T14:39:00.000-04:00

(Out of order sign firmly tucked into the side pocket of briefcase)
……So February 14, 1997 we got married. I know, I know what a cliché. Well, among many many other reasons, the biggest being I know I was gay, I should have know this marriage was doomed right from the beginning. On the way to my Aunt’s house, which is where we were holding the blessed event, my brand new, only owned it for two weeks, car breaks down for the second time. It was like the car was saying, "I am not having any part of this and if you are going to go through with it, then you are going to do it with out me!" So, after I go get a tow truck and a rental car, I get over to my Aunt’s and find out that my two year old is being taken to the emergency room to get stitches in his face! Apparently he was sitting on my sister’s lap and was squirming to get down and lurched forward and cracked his face on the desk in front of them. Right next to his eye!! Did this stop me? Noooo of course not. I paid big bucks for that dress damn it and I was going to wear it!!
Well, he made it back from the hospital in time to put on his suit and look all cute running back and forth with the rings on the pillow. The rest of the day was pretty unremarkable. I got pretty tipsy, which was my way of dealing with all the anxiety of the day, and Alex was ticked that he could not drive the rental car our entire vacation, I mean honeymoon. The good part of the honeymoon, for me anyway, is with all the stress I was going through, Mother Nature came for a visit a week early, so that meant no marriage consummation. Darn.
After the blissful honeymoon, she says tongue in cheek; it was back to the "normal life." We both went back to work, and the little one went back to daycare. Things were fairly good for a little while. After about a month the phone rings and it is this woman demanding to speak to Alex. I give him the phone, and I wait to see what it is going to be about, or at least what his story is going to be. Well, it seems, my husband, that supposedly has never been married before, has two children that he has not been supporting. They are five and six, boy and girl respectively, and he has not been supporting them for a couple of years. Well our wedding was in the paper and she is going to court to get his support started again. Not a problem for me, but it would have been nice to know I was marrying a family, not just a guy. Guess what? Turns out he actually has three total kids, from two different women, one that he was married to. The other kid (boy) is seventeen. By the time we had been married for five months, I had both of his boys living with us and the girl was with us every weekend. Still, not a problem, except he didn’t want anything to do with the kids. I took care of them all. He was never around on the weekends. When he was around he was violent to everyone. Everyone except my son. I went on a vacation in July of 1997 and took the five-year-old and my son with me. Alex had to stay home and work supposedly. I went to Ohio and Alex decided to bring over a girlfriend to keep my side of the bed warm for me while I was gone. I guess he needed to get sex from someone, because I was not giving it to him near as much as he was screaming for it. His seventeen year old was nice enough to tell me all about it when I got back.
By the end, which was September of the same year, 1997, he was drinking a lot and being extremely violent. He would take out his anger on me, by screaming and threatening to hit me. He would tell me about all the violent, nasty things he had done to other people, people that had crossed him. He would take his anger out on his kids by knocking them around, and berating everything they did. Nothing they did was good enough for him. I would try to get home from work early enough to get the two younger kids fed and in bed before he would get home from work because I never knew what kind of mood he was going to come home in. The seventeen-year-old could pretty much handle himself, and if things got too bad would just tell his dad where to go and take off for a while.
One night I could not stop his insanity. The five-year-old got into the TV stand and tore up something of his Dad’s. He knew it was a big no no to be in there but he did it anyway. Before I had a chance to clean it up, Alex came home. He saw what had happened and just exploded. He grabbed the kid by the hair and slapped him a couple of times. Then he dragged him upstairs by his hair, both of them screaming the whole time-one with fury the other with pain and fear. By the time I made it up the stairs behind him, he had the kid’s pants down and a sock in his mouth and had the belt cocked back ready to fire away. I stepped in between the two of them and said, "NO!" You are not going to hit him." He screamed a warning for me to get out of the way, but I did not budge. I got his pants back up and took the sock out of his mouth and edged him out of the room. The seventeen-year-old took him out in the hallway where he was holding my two-year old trying to keep him out of the room. Alex was screaming at me things like how the kids get away with murder and now I had crossed him and didn’t I know what happened to people who "cross" him? All I could say to him was, "I want a divorce, and I want you out of my house." He lunged at me and hit me one time as hard as he could. I put my hand to my face and looked at the blood and I said as firmly as I could "NOW!" When he realized I wasn’t going to back down or cry or I don’t know exactly what reaction he was looking for, he turned and went through the hall and stormed down the stairs. I followed him down; the kids stayed upstairs-I thought it would be best. In the kitchen he opened a beer from the six pack he brought home and practically threw the rest of it in the fridge. I told him I was not kidding about wanting him out, and I would call the cops if I had to. That enraged him even more. He hated the thought of having his privacy invaded by the police. He was opening and closing the kitchen cabinets and drawers with so much force I had to summons all my strength to keep from jumping every time. I did not want him to think I was afraid of him, but in truth I was scared to death he was going to kill me. I knew he was capable of it, I had stood by and watched a man do it to my mother when I was seven years old and I was not going to put my son or these other children through that. With him it was not so much about not wanting to lose me because he loved me too much, but more about control. He was losing control of a situation that he thought he was in control of, when in reality he was never really ever in control of anything including his own mind. He took his beer and went to the bathroom. While he was in there I went into the living room and I called my dad. I told him what was going on and that I needed him to come over and help me get him to leave. He said he was on his way, but in the mean time to keep the phone in my hand, and if he started anything else, to call the police immediately. When he came out of the bathroom, he was very suspicious of my room change and kept asking me why I had the phone in my hand. I told him it was because I wanted him to leave and if he didn’t do it I was going to call the police. My dad made the trip to my house in about ten minutes and beeped his horn to let me know he was outside. I told Alex that I had called him, because I was worried about the kids and myself and I wanted him to leave and my dad was going to help make sure he did. He was getting more and more angry by the minute. My day came in and said, "what’s going on?" I answered that Alex still wouldn’t leave and Alex just stared my dad down like my dad was a matador and he a raging bull. My dad suggested to Alex that he just go spend the night with his mother and let every one cool down, and by the next day maybe we could all sit and talk about what was going on more calmly. Alex said he wasn’t leaving in my truck because he was afraid that as soon as he did I would call the cops and say he stole it. Now I am asking him to leave, why would I do that? I am not like that. Then he says he is not leaving with his son’s. The oldest one hollers down the stairs that he isn’t going anywhere with him and I tell him I am not letting him take the little one anywhere. After going back and forth for about a half an hour my dad tells me to go ahead and call the police because that is the only way things are going to be resolved.
The police arrive and easily convince him to go to his mother’s house. From the evidence they can clearly still see on my face, it’s either leave peaceably or go to jail. The only reason he had a choice is because I would not press charges and I would not say how I got the marks on my face. When he tried to gather his belongings, including his younger son, they told him to have his mommy wash what he was wearing and he could wear it again tomorrow. As far as his son he was staying put for the night.
After he left they gave me all the info I needed to file a restraining order. I called the two boys’ respective mothers and told them what was going on. They came over and picked them up, apparently both had been through it before with Alex.
It took me several hours to get my son calmed down and asleep that night. He was so agitated all night. I let him sleep in the bed with me. I didn’t sleep at all I was busy planning what I had to do and how I was going to do it. That and being very angry. Angry with Alex for hitting me, but mostly angry with myself. Angry for letting myself get in the place. I swore I would never be in this place, I would never be where my mom was and here I am, almost. Well I had to fix it and fix it fast. When Alex walked out that door, that was the last time I saw him, except for in court.
The next morning I was at the courthouse filing the temporary restraining order paper work which was granted and served immediately. He was not allowed back in our home or with-in five hundred yards of me. The permanent one was filed like a week or so later and is still in effect. After I left the court house My dad I drove to where he worked and stole my truck back, because that is what I was told I had to do to get it. We drove it to my uncle’s house and I sold it to my uncle for fifteen hundred dollars. That was enough money to pay my lawyer for the divorce and for the deposit on a new place for my son and I to live. By the end of September I was divorced, and resigned to the fact that no matter what else happened in my life, I would never be untrue to myself to make some one else happy. The sacrifice is not worth the cost. While I don’t think I would go back and change anything that has happened to me, because I feel that all the events that happen to a person good or bad, help to make the person into what they are, I can’t help but feel like I missed out on so many opportunities to grow as the person that I really am. I guess I will save that for another time.

Out of Order...

2005-09-28T14:32:00.000-04:00

This is not a continuation of the ramblings, that will continue tomorrow during a more sober time. This is an out of order ramble.....this is the effect of ten years of caring and trying and loving and hoping and crying. This is my life out of order. During the day I am an accountant who has it all together, or at least makes like I do, but when I step off the train I take the Out of order sign out of my brief case and I hang it on my neck. I only remotely begin to function properly after several beers, mixed drinks, whatever is in the house....doesn't really matter. I guess it is a good thing the son is living elsewhere for now. I wasn't like this before he left though. Of course before he left I was scared he was going to hurt one of us or hurt himself. All I can say is out of order.

And So The Rambling Begins...

2005-09-28T14:31:00.000-04:00

Where to begin is the question......I guess the current affliction would be as good a place as any since it is the reason for my current bout of emotional self-mutilation. I am a mother. I am a wife. I am not a your traditional sort of either. My husband is a self-identified stone butch queer, and my son is a ten year old with bi-polar disorder, ADHD, ODD, and most recently cleptomania. My son is the main reason for my emotional self-mutilation, not to say it is his fault, because that is certainly not the case. The fact that I love him is why it is so tourturous. My son's life started as the product of a tequila night. I have never been able to handle drinking the crap and I was trying to be the person my family said I should be. (knowing I was gay all my life, I tried a couple of times to "do the right thing" and "be a good girl" once ending up pregnant and once ending up married, which is a whole different story.) Anyway, my son was conceived in Houston Texas in 1994 with a guy that took big time advantage of the highly intoxicated state I was in. I saw him a few more times, realized he was into cocaine, a habit I had long since abbandoned, and into stealing my stuff to buy it. That was enough for me to decide it was time to go back to Florida, where my folks were, to get things together while the life inside me was growing. I thought if I could make everything perfect for this new little life, then it could make everything right in my world.
So my father and my then sixteen year old brother came out to Texas in I believe it was November, to pick me and my belongings up and haul everything back to Florida where I "belonged in the first place, and maybe I wouldn't be in this delicate situation" Man if I had a quarter for every time I had to hear that! I went to work for my old stomping ground Kmart, which I had worked at before. Unfortunately, the only thing they could give me was daytime stock. That was a sweet job, and normally I would have been hyped to get full time days in retail, but being about three to four months pregnant at the time, I had severe morning sickness and could not keep the job. I ended up working for my father in his service station/gas station/corner store working the 3 to midnight shift. I worked through my entire pregnancy all the way up until the day I went into the hospital for him to be induced. He was quite comfortable in my belly and didn't want to come out. My step mother was with me during the birth, which was better than no one, but was hard, as she is a very religious and I was very vocal and very pissed and in a lot of pain. The birth was very difficult on both my son and myself, but more so one me as I ended up with a lot of stiches.
We continued to lived with my parents until he was about a year old? Maybe a little older. He had colic for about six months. He had his days and nights confused for so long I almost lost it. He was hyper and demanding from the minute he was born it seemed. His father? Well there isn't one. The tequila guy, wasn't around when we packed up and moved and hasn't been seen or heard from since....not a great big problem. I did end up trying once more to "conform" to the idea the my parents had for my being a nuclear family of a husband, wife and two point two children. I met a guy named Alex. After about three months we got an apartment together. This was good because it got me out of my parents house even if I was going to be living a lie. I could deal with it. After a while he started pressuring me to marry him. I put him off for a while telling him that it was too soon, there was to much going on at work, we wouldn't have time for a proper honeymoon. Finally, I gave in and said yes. To be continued...

In The Begining...

2005-09-28T11:25:00.000-04:00

Why am I here doing this? Why do I feel the need to write all of my personal thoughts, feelings, happenings in the middle of cyber space for the entire world wide web to view? That is a good question, but one that I haven't an answer for. I need to write my life down so myself, and for others to read, so I may get a better understanding, and a better grip upon it, at least that is the hope. For others, maybe all of my pain and suffering and sometimes joy and happiness will be helpful to the in their own journeys through this universe. Who knows, but it certainly can not make things any worse. And so the journey begins.....