34 and Okay

15-June-2004

Electra Masterson

W203 Summer I

In the mirror...

Some folks can look you straight in the face and swear they know exactly when they made life-changing decisions. You always hear about "the moment it all became clear," what a crock of shit! I can't say I ever had one of those "moments". To honestly say there was one thing in particular that I can credit as my turning point would be bullshit. Like most people I know, a lot of shit led me to where I am now.

That's not to say there wasn't bullshit in my life before I made what some would call extreme changes. I grew up as the typical dysfunctional kid in a dysfunctional family; in the early years mom was an alkie, but then after being married and divorced thirteen times (so far) who can blame her. Sad thing is I never got to go to a single one of her weddings, but I was lucky enough to always be there for the divorces. Other than the initial introductory showing off and the dismissal of divorce, they really were never in my life much.

She owned a bar, ironic career for an alcoholic I know, but it was real close to the Naval base, and a lot of my memories as a kid involve that bar and at least two or three squids always being around. That's what we called the Navy guys, squids. I remember this one asshole; not quite sure if I ever knew his name or if I did, I didn't give a shit enough to remember it. Anyways he was a regular, they never had names. He'd ask me "Hey kid, ya know why men join the Navy?" I bit, "No, why?" "To ride the waves!" and

he'd laugh like he'd just won a million bucks or some shit. I didn't get it. It was a few days later that someone told me women in the Navy are called "waves."

Of course I wasn't bitching back then. I was on top of the world. I got to hang out with my mom whenever she got a new boyfriend or husband all night at the bar, and if I wanted something I could get it from them. I learned early that the guys were trying to buy my mom through me. I wasn't a stupid kid. And she knew when it was time to show me off and when it was time to get me out of the picture. She wasn't stupid either.

My grandmother did most of my raising, when I wasn't in the bars with my mom or pawned off on one of my aunts, who all had their own dysfunctions. She was a pretty straight-laced, Southern Baptist in the old sense. Very strict and didn't take no shit off anyone. I remember once when I was around 9 or 10 years old, my mom showed up at Nanny's house drunk off her ass. Well, Nanny didn't drink and she didn't want anything to do with people who did. Funniest thing I ever saw was my 35 year old mother literally running around the house like a crazy person, tripping, falling and staggering over everything from my Nanny, who was about to bust her ass with a "pancake flipper," (spatula). She eventually got caught, flipped over Nanny's knees with her pants pulled down like a two year old and got her butt whacked. It worked. Mother never came back to Nanny's again with alcohol on her breath. I woulda loved to see Nanny in that bar jus one night, hell she'd a'sent all those assholes straight home crying to their mommas.

I was a spoiled little brat at Nanny's house, I occasionally visited at my moms but Ilivedwith Nanny. See, she had 4 sons and always wanted a girl, well, I was the first grandchild and a girl to boot, so I got away with everything. If worse came to worse I could always just use the Nanny trump card. Nanny never told me no.

Looking back now, that was a major factor to a lot of my problems. Don't get me wrong here; my Nanny was the only person that I ever truly knew loved me for me, not for some other motive. Hers was never a temporary or situational love; it was constant. Matter of fact, it was the only thing constant in my childhood.

She's also the only person that I have any respect for from my childhood. If she promised an ice cream, come hell or high water I got ice cream but if she said I was getting' an ass-whooping, you can bet your ass I got that too, shit, I even had to go out and pick my own switches off that damned mulberry tree in the backyard. God, I hated that tree.

Somewhere around the age of ten or eleven, I found out that the man I had been calling Daddy all my life, was in fact, just husband number two. Don't remember how I found out, must nota been important. Mom had divorced him when I was nine. He came to live with me & Nanny and she moved on to husband #3, 4, 5, etc. Well he was a 'lonely' man with needs, if you get me. But, I survived.

Mom kept floating in and out of my life, generally when she wanted to show off her trophy child, and then once my novelty wore off I went back home. There was never any formal discussion of custody that I'm aware of, it was just accepted that I belonged at Nanny's unless mom wanted me for a few days, but never any longer than a week. Apparently I got on her nerves pretty quick.

It was when it dawned on me that I wasn't really Nanny's grandchild, when shit started hitting the fan for me. I can still see her in my mind; sitting in her dark brown, wicker rocking chair on the front porch, must have been late June or early July 'cause it was hotter than hell and not a breeze to be found. I was sitting on the porch, trying to get some coolness from the concrete. Seems like we were snapping green beans or maybe shelling peas. "For the winter" echoes in my head still. In my little kid way, I look up at her, with "Peach"ä snuff juice running down the side of her mouth, (funny how it wasn't gross when I was a kid!) and asked her

"Nanny?"

"Yeah?"

"If your son is not my really my dad, does that mean you're not really my

Nanny?"

She gave me one of those looks that only old people can do, you know the what the fuck are you talking 'bout look.

"Listen here, it takes a whole lot more than blood and DNA to make a family.

Now git that shit outta yer head and get back to work."

Well shit, that was enough for me. The world was cool again.

My mom still isn't sure who my father was. Thank God for the 60's and free love huh? But, I learned it takes more than sperm to be a dad. Although I am convinced he musta been rich, 'cause I am far too lazy not to have been meant to have a maid.

Somehow, I managed to grow up and eventually mom and I moved to Miami. For the first time in my life, it was just her and me, no man in the middle. I discovered I didn't like her very much, but that's a whole 'nother story. I always loved her and still do, only 'cause Nanny repeatedly said, "that's your mama, you gotta love her. Good Lord don't give us no choice in the matter." But Nanny never said I had to respect her.

Anyways, I was sixteen and talk about culture shock! I'd spent most of life in redneck central and now I was in the big city. So I did what all typical, American teenagers do, I partied my ass off. Well, you fuck around on the battlefield long enough and you're gonna get shot. So at eighteen I was a mom. Naturally, I didn't learn shit the first time around and at twenty I was a mom again. I love my boys with everything I got, they are my right and left lungs, but if I could go back...Oh well, live and learn. I married this one's father though, apparently another screw-up on my list. We did it to shut his family up.

He moved us to the upper-South and suddenly, I wasn't a person anymore. I was his wife, the boys' mom, so and so's sister-in-law or daughter-in-law. But I wasn't me. He didn't believe in women working outside of the home. My job was raising the kids and cooking his dinner. Well that trip back to the '50's was fun for a while, but it got old quick. I was used to being independent and in charge of me.

In 1995 the only stepfather (#2) that I ever acknowledged or accepted as my dad passed away. He died alone and lonely, surviving financially by the day, some would call it irony I prefer the term justification. He and I had not spoken for 7 years; our last conversation was on June 02, 1988 at 1:45 in the afternoon. How can I remember exactly when it was? Well because of what was said, and the fact that it was one hour and 36 minutes after I had delivered my first son.

The nurse came to my bed and told me I had a long distance phone call at the desk; there were no patient phones in the recovery room. So with a lot of help, I waddled my forty-seven stitches over to the desk and picked up the phone, I pressed the button that was flashing at me,

"Hello."

"Hey kiddo"

"Dad?"

"Yeah, it's me." "I gotta question."

"Ok. What?"

"How come you didn't have an abortion?"

That was it, not how are you? Not what did you have? Not how's the baby. Not sorry I'm not there, just that question.

As calmly as possible, I came back with, "for the same reason your mother didn't." Then I calmly hung up the phone and waddled back to my bed. It was quite awhile before I could tell anybody about that phone call.

Anyhow, sometime after his death, I realized that I was in a marriage where I was being mentally abused and was probably abusing him too. We were never going to get anywhere in life while we were together, 'shrinks' would say we were 'toxic' to each other. So I left him, after all mother had taught me that there was always another one just waiting to be found.

In 1999, I went to a festival in a small town; I was just walking around not really paying attention. I was dead on my feet. I had just got off from my 9^th straight day of eleven-hour shifts where I worked. I even still had my uniform on, too tired to change, but I had promised the boys I'd take 'em.

Zoning off in my own world, some lady broke into my wonderland, pointing at my shirt, right where the logo seemed to be burning itself into my chest, and asked me

"You plan on doingthat for the rest of your life?"

My mind was saying, "who the hell is this woman and what business is it of hers?" But Nanny's damned inbred manners came out of my mouth instead

"What do you mean?"

Looking up to see where I was, I noticed I was right in front of a university booth and this lady was wearing a shirt w/a school logo on it. Mentally, I'm asking myself, "and do you plan on doingthat for the rest of your life?"

"How many hours a week do you work? Fifty? Sixty?"

"'Bout that yeah, I'm the general manager, I have to."

Realize, the cocky part of me was still very much on guard, I was not in the mood to deal with pushy sales people and had no fear in telling people like her to go to hell.

"Do you realize you don't have to? You could go back to college."

"Go back? I've never been in the first place. I was having kids when other people

my age were going to college. And now it's just me & them, I have to work. I can barely afford their school."

"What if I could help you find a way?"

"Yeah, right, sure. Tell you what, show me where to sign and you send me something in writing to back this up, ok?

"Guaranteed. Right over here" leading me to a table.

Long story short, I signed her paper, gave my address, but refused to put my phone number, I wasn't gonna be dealing with any telemarketers; I know that's how they get your phone number. A few weeks later the info came and it blew my mind.

She was right; I could get an education and support my kids at the same time. Amazing! How come they never told me any of this when I was in high school? For example, did you know that just because I am a single mother the federal gov'twants to give me money for school? Hell, at that time nobody wanted to give me anything but shit.

After reading her info, it occurred to me that here I was 31 years old and was going to be on my feet, fifty-sixty hours a week working for someone else the rest of my life if I didn't do something about it.

I jumped at the opportunity and here I am. Although, I am still not sure what I am going to be when I grow up, (again) I now have the self-confidence to know that whatever I decide, I can do it. If I ever figure out who that lady was, I'm gonna thank her.

I guess my point of all this trip down memory lane of my Jerry Springerish life, is even dysfunctionate kids can grow up to be functionate people eventually. I'm not perfect, hell as far from it as possible, but I am ok with me and like Nanny told me once, "as long as you can look in the mirror and be proud of what you see, then you're not blowing it too bad."

I still have mirrors in my house, so far so good, huh?