I'm firmly convinced that Rochelle (or Rosie as she was known back in the day) was destined to be an intregal part of my life.
Had our parents not met and married, I'm certain our life paths would have crossed elsewhere.
Fortunatly Mark and Judy did marry, officially making us sisters.
Growing up together cemented the bond of true sisters.
The love and deep understanding we share make her a sister of my heart.
Rosie is one of the most remarkable people on this planet.
Holy Matrimonies
A birthday story
It was my 18th birthday and my mother and I were on our way to celebrate the yearly birthday ritual of lunching at a resturant exclusively of my choice. We sometimes went out to eat as a family after church, but on the day of our birth we would have a choice. And having choices was not a common theme for my siblings and I.
Before we had even left the neighborhood a confession began spilling from my mothers lips. It was if she had predetermined I would be able to handle the truth of my conception when I reached adulthood.
She and Reid worked together at the Power company. He invited her to spend a week-end in Wendover. At this point my mom claimed she was still a virgin and blamed her deflowering on my Aunt Wanda who had taken her lingerie shopping for the occasion. She had to justify this because my mom had raised her girls to be 'true love waits' virgins on our respective wedding nights.
And so she claimed what had happened that weekend was a kind of half way immaculate conception. She emphasized the pain and how she simply couldn't go 'all the way through with it' She thought her virtue had remained intact.
When she started gaining unexpected weight, she took to riding her bike five miles a day to her mothers house. Despite her work outs the weight was not coming off. My grandma insisted that she see a doctor.
She was in shock and obviously not a virgin.
She called Reid. My Grandma Dorothy quickly took over and planned a wedding. Her eldest son was getting married and would soon be a father. I was to be her first grandchild and I honored her by entering the world, kicking and screaming on her birthday. I was a girl which was greatly celebrated in the predominatly male family. I was coddled and spoiled. A difficult baby who would only be soothed by a select few. My mom, Grandma Dorothy, but more times then naught they would hand me off to the eternally patient great grandma therese who would rock with me in her porch swing for hours on end.
My mother became pregnant with my first sibling August of 73. Because I was such a difficult baby, my mom wanted to keep my brother suspended in utero forever but he wasnt having any of it. He entered the world May 29, 1974. Fortunatly for my mother, he was a calming presence to me (and still is) I still had my moments. I was strong willed and stubborn. If I didnt get my way I would pound my head against the hard floor until I was sporting bruises on my forehead. And since I couldn't yet articulate what I did want, this happened frequently. Out of desperation, mom took her sister up on the offer of the child rearing classes at her church.
As previously described, she became a born again christain. It didn't do much for me. The tantrums were worse then ever. The pastors advice to spank me was vetoed by my father. Prior to this, thier martial spats had always been fiercly fought but amusing. My grandma wanted me to bear the name Prudence and my dad thought it a lovely name. My mom defied them both and I am grateful for Amanda. Z went for three months without an official name on his birth certificate. My dad was insisting on naming him Spider. She finally wore him down to accept Zachery R but NOW she wanted him to accept Jesus as his personal Saviour.
It eventually became too much for him and she accepted the seperation based on the biblical verse of being unequally yoked.
We moved to bright lights, big city. At first we lived with my grandparents. My mom was reinstated at the power company and we soon moved to a tiny basement apartment close to the church. I developed inapprioate crushes on older authority figures. Specifically the pastor of the church and his son. Also an old travelling evangelist Charles Ogden. I would listen to Mansion Over the Hilltop on repeat and cry myself to sleep. Although I don't recall missing my dad. The divorce was never discussed although we soon were moving into a duplex on Heather Glen where I would have my own room. My mom sold some cattle for the down payment. Z and I were enrolled in a private school that believed in corporal punishment. Each day before classes began we would have an assembly where Big Red was shown. A paddle with holes to give more sting. Although my mom was a christain she did have a line. She discovered she was not a baptist on the day I brought my kissing barbie to show and tell. It was taken from me and my mom was informed it was a sex object and would not be returned to me. She insisted that I get my Barbie back and pulled us from the school that day.
I reveled in freedom of my second grade year. I loved my teacher Mrs. Blair and I lost myself in books. I read 'The Secret Garden' in a week. The school librarian peered at me over the tops of her bifocals and stated there was no way I could have read the complete book. I shrugged and checked it out again. While Z and I spent our weekends either at the ranch or more commonly at Grandma Dorothys, a sea change was occuring.
One day I was running toward the lunchroom stage when I tripped and gashed my eyebrow on the metal edge. The nurse determined I needed stiches but could not reach my mother. She called the emergency contact, Aunt Diane. After the ordeal I asked where my mom was.
"skiing"
She replied
"with who?"
"Mark."
This was the first I heard of him. They had been dating for two weeks while Z and I were with my dad. His young daughters would sometimes accompany them, most notably to the Ice capades.
They dated six weeks before deciding to get married. My mom never discussed this with Zach or I. The way she saw it was her kids needed a dad and Marks kids needed a mom. And he was a christain. Divorce is one of the most sigmatized sins in the Assemblies however for this lovely couple the pastor made an exception. Judy had been unequally yoked and the divorce was not initiated by her. Marks wife had committed adultry and abondaned him.
They married a day after my brothers 6th birthday. It was a shock. They had completly different parenting styles. When my mom first met 3 yr old Rosie she was standing on a chair washing dishes. Mom was still doing everything for us. I saw the disdain in his eyers when I was lying in the hallway, my foot lifted waiting for my mom to put on and tie my shoes. The one thing they agreed on was 'spare the rod, spoil the child.' My mother was happy to turn over the discipline and the spankings started soon after. The spankings I remember most were on holidays. The Halloween our family dressed as the Wizard of Oz. He was still in his Scarecrow costume and looked diabolical. The christmas eve spanking. My gift that night had been the Little House series and I couldnt wait to dig in. I got caught reading under the covers. For my birthday that Febuary, aunt Diane gave me a tin of peppermint puffs. So light and fluffy. I hid in my closet and devoured them all while the adults drank coffee in the kitchen. When Mark came in looking for an after coffee mint, disgust crossed his face. 'You ate them ALL?" I stayed in the closet and cried.
The punishments combined by the fact that I already felt abondaned by my biological father would never allow me to try and form a bond. Even though my new dad had eliminated the word divorce from the family dictionary with a sharpie, I never felt safe. At first I wanted my mom to leave him and try again with Reid. This was a fantasy. I saw how divorced women were labeled and ostracized in the church. It was better to kill your husband then to divorce him. You would certainly be forgiven more quickly. It was impossible to be the head of the church, be on the board, or even be a deacon. You could go as far as usher.
We played the part of the christain family but erupted in vicious fights in the car on the way home from church until it got too much and my dad would bellow for silence.
Mark and Judy were meant to be and then not meant to be.
My parents maintained the facade for apprx 20 years. And then another divorce. At that time, I was old enough to realize that my mom was beyond crazy and that my dad had tried his best. I understood that he loved Zach and I as his own, had raised us as his own. I admire my parents for this. We were not a step/ combined/ brady bunch family. We were a family pure and simple. However, I had never developed a form of communication with him. Anything that I needed from him I would petition my mom to talk to him for me.
I was living by myself in my beautiful apartment in the avenues and I was slowly rediscovering truths that had been hidden from me. I was angry and felt deceived and betrayed. By my family. By church patriarchy.
I'm not angry anymore. I love my dads, both of them. Once you have a child you realize how amazingly difficult it is to raise them right.
I have never been married. (and never will be until it is legal for EVERYONE who wants to be married and perhaps not even then)
but I know that it takes hard work.
And I have never, no not ever, faulted either one of them for the divorce. Nor do I believe you should wear a scarlet D on your chest if you decide that your marriage cannot be salvaged for whatever reason. If one partner is giving it thier all and the other refuses to evolve, you cannot be blamed for letting go.
especially if there are children. When children grow up in a volatile and violent environment the result is they will never feel safe.
There is no shame in protecting your kids.
There will always be ties that bind, just perhaps not in the legal sense. One should always have free will.
Til death do us part is sadly not a guarentee for life.
But SISTERS are.
o little sister
273 lbs gone .
I can cross my legs!
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