Rainy Day Wonderings

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

1973~ My Journal

Three more days. Three more days until my dad went away leaving me alone with mom again.
One. Two. Three.
I hated the fact he was leaving, things were so much better when dad was around, she took it all out on him.
Yep, that's exactly the way I felt.
That "God Da**ed Ross" mom would always say when referring to my dad.
At one point I wondered if that in fact was his name.
Each and every time he went off to War he left me to deal with her alone.
I would imagine it was better over there, it had to be right?
Cause she was not there.
Each and every phone call we received he was at a bar.
Telling me over and over again how much he loved me.
Partying, drinking and have fun.
More like destroying a bar and sending the bill for my mom to pay.
Oh and was that fun for me, because I was the one that she directed her anger towards.
There was a part of me, deep down inside that would look forward to his leaving because I would be showered with gifts.
Maybe it was his way of easing his guilt, I'll probably never know.
He spoiled me rotten.
Every time he would leave I knew I would be getting new clothes and shoes.
And you would think that it would have made me happy.
After all, some new clothes, shoes and a fancy haircut would “fix” any sadness, right?
Because our “little girl” should never be sad, angry or deal with frustration.
Anyways, the count down was on.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
His choice this time was JC Penney’s.
Mom said she did not want to go, she wanted to read.
It made me happy cause he was leaving soon and I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.
Besides who doesn’t want new clothes?
He would sing dirty ditties on the way, which was always fun,
Because mom would always get mad when he sang them in front of me.
As we enter the store I see our next door neighbor, Mrs. C standing behind the cash register helping a customer.
Walking in the direction of the girls department there is Mrs. B another neighbor, she works in the lingerie department.
My dad and I stop to say our hellos, and my father tells me to go on ahead, so he could continue with his conversation with Mrs. B.
I wander off looking at all the clothes when I hear my dads voice yelling from across the store.
“Sissy! Sissy, what size panties do you wear? Do you like different colors?"
“Oh never mind, I remember now!”
I just stood there and froze. People stopped and looked around, wondering who Sissy was.
I wanted to crawl into a hole and die from embarrassment.
Just then I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned to see who it was.
It was Kendra the one girl in my sixth grade class that had the biggest mouth this side of the Rocky Mountains and her older brother Rick, the local high school quarterback, Mr. Personality in the flesh.
I could not look away from Rick’s eyes, they were so blue I felt like I could swim in them.
“I just saw your dad talking to Mrs. B, are you going to purchase that?” said Kendra.
Pointing to the shirt I had in my hand.
“What? Oh this? I am not sure.”
Just then I hear my dad’s voice again and turned my head to see my dad headed in my direction carrying fifteen different panties in one hand and some bras to match in the other.
“Sissy! Do you like blue butterflies? “Or here lookie at this one, it has a bra to match! How bout this blue lace one, ya think it is going to be scratchy? These panties have the days of the week on them, all in different colors!”
Again I just stood there feeling everyone’s eyes on me. I heard Kendra say, “Oh my gosh, is that your dad?
And the next thing I heard was Rick, saying “Lace always a good choice.”
I turned around and told them to “shut up” and as I walked towards my dad I could hear both of them laughing.
For most of the school year I was asked if my bra and panties matched or if I was wearing butterflies or frogs.
Oh and I can’t forget, does your stuffing for your bra match those panties?
Jealousy rearing its ugly head.
That is until sixth grade camp, when I proved once and for all that I did not stuff my bra.
I am saving that story for another time.
Two weeks after my dad left I told my mother what had happened that day in J.C Penny’s after getting into a fight at school.
Once she heard the whole story I was told that I was not going to get into trouble for fighting in school and as my mom walked out of my room I heard my mother say, “just wait until I get my hands on that“God Da**ed Ross!”

Please note that I took this from my journal when I was in the sixth grade. All misspellings, bad grammar were left in its original context.

Have a wonderful day!

N Posted by Rain at 7/05/2006 12:41:00 AM

1 Comments

Anonymous posted at 2:36 PM
Memories of things to do with our parents have such a push-pull effect on our emotions. Your dad hamming it up in the store on one hand, and then on the other the fear of what peers might think and then being teased for something that was completely out of your control.