On A Cold Winters Night. . .

Diary - Entry 29

It has occurred to me (over the last couple of days), that while I re-lived some of the more "raw emotional events", I left out a few more that helped shape my adult outcome.

While this will not be an easy read, as it comes from a place buried deep within me, I felt, under the circumstances, that it needed to be brought out of its "hidy-hole", for I am not ashamed of it in itself (because I did what I thought was best for all of us at the time) but the deep resounding pain it caused us all, the memories that are attached to it and the fact that it is very much a part of who I am, who my son Hayden is and who my ex-husband became.

When I was in 6th grade at Sheldon Elementary, I used to doodle in my notebook the name of my future husband.  I would sign my name repeatedly "Mrs. Jay Anderson".  I would draw wedding dresses, make up invitations, and even made sure that we had a big house with a mammy in it, for I had had a mammy growing up, off and on.  That was the fairy tale portion of it. 

Later on, when I got elected class president, he was my vice-president, where he went, I went.  We became good friends. I was his female confidant.  He told me things that he did not tell his other "guy" friends.  He asked my advice about girls.  We went on hay rides together, helped his parents out and just genuinely liked one another.  His parents, mostly Big Jay (who was thought of a a mover and shaker in our little town. . .if you could call it that) thought I was an ideal catch for their first born child because I came from an old southern family.  I was a 10th generation southern with family ties that went back to the Earl Of Lennox and my family (at that time) had acreage (around 4,000 acres) and money that had come from years of cotton farming. I was pretty and I had good manners.  It did not hurt matters that my mother was pretty and ran the local COOP.  

We just didn't see things as they did, for to us, we were just good buddies.

As my mothers carousing got worse and became uncontrollable, I (with the help of Tim Satterfield, whom I had been dating, because "Toy" and I were officially over. . .yeah right!) hopped a plane and went to live with my father.  It was the first time I had seen him in nearly 8 years.

I managed to get through the rest of my Junior year and my Senior year at CCHS without much fan fare, with the exception that I wore many hats scholastically.  One of my favorites was the Editor-in-Chief position I held on the school newspaper, The Thunderbird Press. . .  In addition to writing for the paper, I did its lay-out and formatted it.

I had a carry over from Sheldon as well, I had been in every school production we had in Sheldon, every choir season, and competed in both Vocal categories and instrument. . .on a statewide competition basis. 

I was most happy my Senior year and I really blossomed.  I did not date in either my Junior or Senior year, as a habit, so I was referred to as the Ice Princess. I had two wonderful male friends as well as two females.  We were an odd lot.  Some of us were gay/lesbian and some of us were straight, but we all had a truly deep friendship and we became tied together through our music, our beliefs and our teacher, who had a gift for "collecting" the most talented and highly gifted students.  They latched onto me my first day of arrival in the midst of my Junior year and we were thick as thieves, I felt a great relief and for the first time in my life, I was at peace because we all knew what each of us were, could do and what gifts we possessed.  Most of the others just looked at us as "odd", we did not care, we had formed our own family and we loved one another in a way that made each of us whole. . .and all of our wounds were healed.

I am going to fast foreword to the summer after I graduated high school, as what followed the school year is really what I began with.

My intention, had been to return to Sheldon for a visit and a visit only.  Basically to see my mother, my little brother and some friends.  I had already been accepted to ASU for the fall after receiving a very nice, although not full, scholarship from the Quill and Scroll Society at graduation, I had a clear cut path before me, I wanted to be a writer.  I was very excited.  My father had paid the balance of the first year for ASU (I think it was really my grandmother), when I had balked at attending ORU (Oral Roberts University - for which I been given a full scholarship) which was what my grandfather had demanded.  . . yeah, good luck with that one.

Anyway, the day after I arrived in Sheldon, guess who came knocking at my door?  Yep, he could not let sleeping dogs lie, even though he knew that he was engaged (and I did not), he figured we would get re-acquainted. . .one look at him, and so did I. 

Jay and I hooked back up and started running wild in the town on my "off nights" when I was not seeing "he who shall not be named" (yep, I know what you are thinking. . .I felt like a blood bond had been formed and I was forced to come whenever he called, yes I realize I am cross referencing between to entities. . .but that is the best way I can describe it). 

Poor Jay, he was constantly under his fathers thumb, he loved a girl that was so not respectable in so many ways, not to mention the years she had on him. . . and he was told not to see Donna Rector anymore, she was trash, and in my opinion, she would and always will be garbage.  I on the other hand had just been handed a blow as well.

One night, I was at "his" apartment and things were very strange.  Although we made love and it was, as usual, (intense for we had a blood/skin/every molecule connection that the years had not dampened) I had know from the images that flashed in my mind during our lovemaking that he was in turmoil followed by a somewhat bittersweet resignation.  As we lay there, he told me quietly and I will never forget it: "I am getting married this weekend". . .  Honestly, at first, I thought he was referring to him and I, then as I continued to gaze at him, I realized, he was talking about someone else.  A single tear began to roll down my cheek.  He started to tell me her name, I put my hand up, got up, got dressed and left as quickly as I could. . .crying all the way home.  I finally pulled off the road, so I could vomit.

Over and over in my head, I could hear my mother saying all those years ago, " if he loves you, he will wait"!  While I always pitied my mother, sometimes worried for her safety, I now found myself enraged and I truly, for the first time in my life hated her to my very core.

Jay and I began hanging out in my brothers tree house, in my backyard on Market street.  It was a high platform and it overlooked all the other houses and such.  Nobody could see us up there.  We would go up there at night sometimes with a blanket, whatever alcoholic beverage we could get our hands on and lay on our backs looking up at the sky.  Sometimes I would talk about "him" and sometimes Jay would talk about "her", we would get drunk and commiserate with one another. . .although during this time, our relationship had not yet turned intimate, yet, it did not take long before we started taking solace in one another.  We began the night that my soul mate married another woman and we kept our trysts to ourselves. . .well, at least I did.  Jay was never very good at keeping his mouth shut, and years later, this would be our downfall.

The Haversham State of Affairs. . .

Diary - Entry 28



Tonight (as you know I always have music on) , I am listening to Rosemary, Sammy, Frank, Tony and Andy (who is currently soothing this savage bitch with Moon River).  My son is asleep in my bed, my dog is asleep at my feet, the cats are curled up with one another and my husband is somewhere in Louisiana.

I have loved the deep south, all my life.  Much like myself (although it has always been impoverished it has always held its dignified and somewhat eccentric head high) through war, riots, high crime, drugs, gangs, corrupt government, the surge of unemployment, the rise in welfare (due to baby mamas and their animalist baby daddies) and so on.  She and always will be grand, demented and like me as well, retains a touch of "Haversham" quality to it.

I had the rare opportunity to get re-acquainted with an old friend and found out, quite by surprise, that she and I had, in some respects. . .come full circle.  It is fair to say that due to all parties concerned at this time, she shall remain without identity, for the time being.

While our conversation, took its natural path to the commonality of the past and I have freely admitted this in other entries. . .some of the doors I slammed, were slammed out of forced situations, uncontrollable circumstances and youthful inhibitions.

Somehow, with all the back peddled memories, fears, longings and regrets that we all possess, life works out the way it is meant to.  We each have a destiny.  A role to play if you will, that I feel, was pre-ordained, yet most of us stumble and fall many times over, during the journey.  While I struggle on a daily basis trying to cling to the hope that I won't land ass-up in hell, there is always that possibility. . .that the good things I have done will not have outweighed the bad.

 I, unlike some women, am willing to admit that on the outside, while I am a savvy, ball-busting bitch that calls the shots in and out of my home, the past and the relationships from it, whether they were short,long term or lifetime, each took something out or from me, that left me in a type of permanent survivor mode with pieces missing.

I am fragmented in my thoughts tonight, hence, I seem to be rambling, more than usual and I have a deep sense of foreboding, which I cannot shake.  Memoo would be so proud that my nerves can still be jangled a bit. . .

Time, The Elusive Substance Of All Things. . .

Diary - Entry 28 (I think. . .)

At this late hour, I find myself listening to Diana Krull, Etta James, Nina Simone and of all things Pink (I really have enjoyed this last cd, she has more depth, emotion. I think alot of that has to do with the break up of her marriage. . .) and sipping a glass of Chardonnay.

I seem to be somewhat mellow this evening, thinking over the last one hundred years or so. . .for that is how old I feel tonight.

When you think about all the people that have been in your life, out of your life and sometimes, have returned to it, do you ever wonder why that is?  How did you come to meet them in the first place?  Did the experience you had or have with them leave you in a better or worse place?  What would you change about the relationship you had or have with them and what could or would you leave alone about it?

I feel like "Dear Abby" sometimes. . .(perhaps I should right a column. . .I seem able to resolve everyone else's problems, except my own!)

Sometimes late at night, when everyone is asleep (and that includes the animal's!), I slip out the back door and sit in my gazebo, light candles and meditate on the past, the present and wonder what the future will bring to myself and my ever-extending familia.  Other times, at least the last few nights, as the heat has been so oppressive, I remove all my clothes and swim naked in the pool (yes, I have a fence. . .) and look at the stars in the night sky. . .wondering how many of them are loved ones that  no longer cling to their earthly shells, for that is what we are.  Shells that play host (or hostess) to one's heart, head and soul. 

Within my own shell, none of those three things ever seem to line up altogether at the same time. . .

Thanks to all of you that leave me messages, I truly appreciate that you take the time to really read my meanderings. . . T