It's not supposed to be this way

We were just kids. We didn't have any say in the way things were. Things just were the way they were and we grew up in those circumstances.

My dad certainly made some choices that from my point of view made no sense at all. But then, Mary Ann, what was she thinking?
They were kids themselves really. She couldn't have been more than 20 when Ann was born. Here mother's response to an unwed pregnancy was "you made your bed, now lay in it". What a legacy for Ann. When we had moved to Nora Springs Ann and I were babies. I woder how much of his behaviours towards me were a result of Mary Ann not being Mary Lou and me being a constant reminder.
The result of growing up in a household built on that foundation was me not feeling too much "a part of". I had always thought something was wrong with me. I drank too much. I acted out, got in fights, got in trouble. I was the black sheep. I wasn't a nice kid like Ann. Lord knows I wanted to be. But something was wrong and it had to be me because they were all close. They were good people, therefore what was wrong had to be me.

But my mother was not Mary Ann. My mother was Mary Lou. Her family didn't support the marriage. No one was there. No one was there to help us get started in life. Things must have been awful tough on them. She probably should have worked. Dad couldn't earn enough. It's not surprising things went rapidly south on them. I wonder how much violence was in there home. She never talked of it and it never occured to me to ask.

But I am a Crum. Even though in my own home growing up I never felt as though I fit. I am more Crum than my dad could ever imagine. Because I not only have the genes passed down to me from pioneers and settlers on my father's side, my mother's father was a chemical engineer. This would explain why I have been able to do such a variety of things well.

But now both Marys have long since passed. Dad is not in the very good health. Ann's grandson Ryan has a condition that will result in a lifetime of battling tumors. Right now he is 2, has a growth on the optic nerve behind his eye causing him to be blind in that eye and is undergoing chemotherapy. The tumor hasn't yet shrunk and when he gets any infection he is hospitalized. Her husband Earl has congenital heart failure. On May 1st when I was walking through town with a misspelled sign he was undergoing heart surgery to have a defibrillator/pacemaker installed. She just called me a couple days ago to tell me of a fundraiser planned in Meyer of all places.

The point is, though, family is meant to provide support during times like these. We have never been able to be of support to each other and she has never had any reason to question the way things are. I believe, to her, I am the black sheep. I am the one one who always was in trouble, doing the wrong things because there is something wrong with me. I am not family.

IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THAT WAY!!!

Friends, Pals, Eggs, and Shells

Quite a pair, these two. I've been thinking of this blog for some time now, though my time is limited right now. Many things to see to today. Spending the day with Tristan, have flower baskets to prepare for Memorial day, laundry, and so on. Today Tristan and I will spend some time in the park....
To the thoughts that accompany this particular picture...

I don't remember a time when my mom and dad were together. They separated and divorced soon after my second birthday. Dad quit his job, let our house go, and moved home to his mom and dad's house. They had a very small house. That would have been in the spring time of 1952. Before Christmas of that year we had move to Albert Lea, Minnesota, dad had a new wife and I had a new baby sister. I have some vague memories of this. I remember being afraid. I'm not always sure of what. Just that I was afraid. I also remember something of life with Grampa and Grandma Crum.
We moved back to Nora Springs, Iowa maybe in the spring of 1954. I remember more of this time, and what I remember is not always nice....

I remember:

Sitting on the kitchen floor cutting pictures out of a magazine. The scissors did'nt work to well and I gave them a toss expressing myuself with a word or two I'd heard my dad use to describe his frustrations when he was in the garage working on a car. Next thing I know I'm being yanked up off the floor and a bar of LAVA soap shoved in my mouth while he is shouthing at me about swearing. Holding my jaw with one hand and the top of my head with the other he made sure I got a good chew....friends, pals, eggs, and shells.

I remember:

I'm not even sure of what I did. I think I did something wrong at somebody's house. We were in the kitchen I think... I was being held up against the wall off the floor while a very angry face was shouting up into mine...friends, pals, eggs, and shells.

I remember:

I was probably in Kindergarten. I rode a bus to school all day every other day. I think it must have been getting close to the time for the bus and I hadn't yet had breakfast. I opened the door to the garage where mom was helping dad work on the car. I asked about breakfast. A wrench came flying across the garage and bounced off the door as I closed it behind me. Sure wish I'd made my own breakfast....friends, pals, eggs, and shells.

I remember:

I don't really know what set this off. Maybe I did something to his hatchet. I don't really remember as this happened a half century ago. I was being dragged by the arm across the yard to the block of wood he used to slaughter chickens. I had watched what he did to chickens there. He was screaming at me as I was dragged while he waved that hatchet at me. "I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget". Mom came running out of the house yelling at him, asking what the hell he thought he was doing....friends, pals, eggs, and shells.

I remember:

I really loved my dad. When things were good we had this rhyme we used to say to each other...friends, pals, eggs, and shells. Meaning we were friends and pals. Meaning we went together like eggs and shells.

If I could just quit being bad he wouldn't have to be mean to me anymore.

I believed this up until the last few years. This distance between us, he rarely, if ever, calls me. He rarely accepts an invitation to my house. He never invites me to his. I believed this estrangement was as result of my poor choices and bad behavior. I was an embarrassment. I believed this until Roxanne pulled me out of what he and Ann were pulling me into by telling me I am a wonderful husband, a damn fine stepdad, and my grandsons think the world of me. My co-workers respect me and the congregation of the First United Methodist Church are convinced I am the best custodian they've ever had. The problem is dad, not me.

Friends, pals, eggs, and shells INDEED!!

A new page...

The sunrise of February 10th 1990 certainly brought a new phase of my life into being. I didn't know it at the time but I was to find peace for my restless heart. This morning I could not sleep so I rose early and took my first cup of coffee outside to the pergola. What a treat! Candlelight, my grandson's Golden Retriever for company, and Saint Francis in the shadows among the shrubbery telling me I have come a long way. My days are not all the way I would have them to be, but if I do the things I should enough of them are to make a very good life. I wanted to start this blog to record some of my thoughts from this morning's interlude but soon I will return to for a bowl of cereal in the sunrise "concert hall".
Prior to the profound change in my life that was to begin on that fateful morning I did a lot of incredible things in places my family of origin could only read about in books or see in the movies. Some of these adventures still percolate to my awareness and I remember them differently now than in times past. I drank to much, sought the good life through pharmacology, and didn't always do the right things. This brought a bit guilt and regret....well o.k. then maybe a little more than a bit.
But, to the task at hand....
The memories that came to mind in the early morning candlelight were of the billowing shades of green dancing across the frozen January Alaskan sky as I strode the desolate tundra. The air so cold it would freeze the moisture in your lungs if you didn't wear a mask to protect yourself. Canteens needed to be carried inside your parka or the water would freeze and you would dehydrate. Now this was an adventure...
I actually had the opportunity to make a significant contribution to someone's life....but this is a story for another day.
Another memory was of a romantic gondola ride through canals of Venezia with my first ex-wife. Music floated on the salt breeze from the Adriatic as we drifted between centuries old palaces. Strolling through
Il Piazza di San Marco feeding the pigeons we could stop and listen to the musicians perfoming classical pieces in the outdoor cafes. How I wish I could repeat that experience with Roxanne...
I have driven through blinding rain in Spearfish Canyon of the Black Hills while lightening stabbed the bluffs above me over and over and over. Smelled the smoke from the fire on those mountains caused by those lightening strikes. Stopped and listened to the lonesome cry of coyotes across the tumbleweed landscape somwhere between the mountains of either Wyoming or Montana while the sun poked it's golden eye over the peaks and turned the morning reddish-purple. I lived my version of being a cowboy. Riding steel horses I drifted from cow town to cow town playing the honkeytonks and taverns. Singing and playing the songs of Willie, Waylon, and Hank I tried to live out all them country songs.
Well enough for now. Daylight is breaking and I must go about my appointed rounds. First, I will secure the homestead. Loose the hounds, set the guard, and arm the intusion detection system.

Cadillac Cowboys

What a crew! In some ways I miss these days fiercely. We could play a whole helluvalotta music for three guys. Mark and I still talk occasionally but I haven't spoken with Bobby for a couple years. Bobby makes more money than MA and I could spend but I don't think he's any happier than we are. And who'duthunk me n' MA would both wind up as maintenance directors for large churches....ya' just can't never tell what lies ahead...

Been a while since I could blog. Terrible busy. My Ipod and computer got in a snit a couple days back and stop talking. Tried everything Ipod's support website suggested. They still seem to be PO'd at each other. Oh well, I' try and new USB cable and load my software on a church PC . Maybe they'll talk then....

Gotta get ready for work though. Lots to do today.

Prayer

Most kind and gracious Heavenly Father,

I want to offer myself to you this morning
to build with me and do with me what
you will.
Relieve me of the bondage of self that I
might better do thy will. Take away from me
my difficulties that victory over them might
bear witness to those I would help of Thy
Power, Thy Love, and Thy Way of life.
I am ready now for You to have all of me,
both the good and the bad. Take away
from me every single defect of character
that stands in the way of my usefulness to
You and to my fellows. Grant me strength
this day to be an instrument of Thy Peace,
to live well the next few hours, and to be of
service.
Amen

Remember

On March 23rd, 1836 Mexican Presiden General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna ended the 13 day seige at this abandoned Spanish mission known as the Alamo with an assault that lasted 90 minutes and resulted in the deaths of legendary Tennesee Congressman David Crocket and entrepeneur James Bowie of the "Bowie knife" fame. 189 men defended that improvised fortress against Santa Anna's Army of of over 2,000. The 13 day siege gave time for the provisional government of Texas to form and Sam Houston to form his Army. Though Houston's Army couldn't rescue Crocket and Col. Travis they were able to later rout Santa Anna at the battle of San Jacinto thus freeing Texas from Mexico. Sometimes when I see all those illegals marching in our streets I think I know how Col. Crocket felt as Sata Anna approached. This is the country we as independant Americans liberated ourselves from British rule for. We have fought many battles and wars to maintain our freedom and independance. After Texas gained its independance from Mexico it joined the Union. Today we risk becoming " Los Estados Unidos de Mexico del Norte" if this illegal flood is not halted.
These open border advocates are more than unsrupulous businessmen and politicians...they are traitors.

The struggle begins

Thirty one years ago I stood in this Piazza. I was a soldier stationed on an isolated missile site in Northern Italy. I had no idea the real struggle for me was to begin 20 some odd years after I got out of the Army. This past Monday I took a sign and walked from the Veteran's War Memorial to City Hall to the Post Office. When I got to Central Park the Globe was there along with a camera man from KIMT. Both crews did a very good job. Must write a note to both organizations thanking them. Dad wasn't there. I'd hoped he would accompany me. He'd said he would. When I called him on Sunday to arrange a time and place to meet he either became confused or at least acted that way. In either case he wasn't there. I've had several phone calls from well wishers and people who had either seen the newspaper or TV coverage have approached me and thanked me for my courage in speaking out. I wish I knew how to start a grass roots movement here. A petition? A march for border control? How do I contact those who would be interested in this issue? Posters?

Well, it is time for me to once again work. I have done so many things the President says Americans don't do. He is such a liar...Well first I must scan the horizon for presence of intruders....

Why I protest

Today is Monday May 1st. "Un dia sin immigrantes". I wish they would just keep marching all the way to El Paso. The reason I hold the belief I do is in the picture above. This entire issue is about what kind of place I hope is passed down to them. It is not about immigration. It is about ILLEGAL immigration. There will be marches and a boycott nation wide. Today, at noon, I will take the sign I made yesterday and walk from Central Park to City Hall, then on to the US Post Office. I hope to draw attention to the reality of this highly emotional issue. There was 1 article in the River City Gazette today, and it was in the national headlines section. This is not just an issue that effects far away places. It affects us here, it affects us now, and it will only get more oppressive if our border with Mexico is not closed. Rather than deal with the social problems corruption in business and government causes there emigration is not only condoned but encouraged.
Last week my dad said he would accompany me on my protest walk. Yesterday when I talked with him he sounded confused about where and when we would meet. I don't think he wants to get that far out of his comfort zone. I really think my image of that man as John Wayne was highly mistaken. I think he tends to be somewhat timid and his violent behavior towards me when I was a child was bullying.
When I go on my protest walk, I will walk alone. I hope to have our local TV station there so my actions will be seen on a wider scale.
I will blog more later, but for now the hounds must be fed, the stables cleaned, and the dining hall and kitchen prepared for my victory banquet....

I returned earlier from my protest walk through the center of town. I was greeted by 2 gentlemen from the Gazette, and one from KIMT. I answered a few questions, had my picture taken a number of times then spent about half an hour with the young man from the TV station. People wave, honked, and gave me the thumbs up. A few stopped to discuss the issue with me. All agreed illegal immigration must be stopped.

Dad never showed. I never should have ever expected he would support me in this. He's never supported me before. Don't know why he drove me to Fort Lewis or let me live in that house...

Well I must leave this for now... I hear a commotion on the ramparts...I must reiforce the guard...