The Last Decade
There have been many changes in the last decade. In 1999, my mom and dad were motorhoming. When they came home that spring, I wanted to sit down with my Dad and have him tell me all of h is old sea stories into a tape recorder.
There are many reasons why I wanted him to tell me the stories. The basic reason was that he was getting up there in years and it would be highly unlikely to have him be around to tell them to my children, if I ever have them.
I remember the tales of Uncle Wayne and the pretty green sweater. Dad tapped a mule/horse(don't remember) on the side with some sort of leather apparatus after he and Uncle Wayne were riding the animals. The animal passed wind and other matter, and Uncle Wayne said, "All over my pretty green sweater." Many years later, Uncle Wayne was asked if he had a pretty green sweater as a lad, and he denied it. Our grandmother was right behind him and said, "Wayne Rorie, you did too have a pretty green sweater!" It was atleast 50 years since it happened, and Dad laughed every time he told that story almost to the point of tears.
Then there was stories of the two of them in the service during WWII. I won't account all of them here, because I don't have the time. To end Dad's part of the tale, he was a big Ken Griffey, Jr and Sr. fan. Sr. from the days of the 'Big Red Machine' in the seventies and Jr. from Seattle.
Sometime during the second week of January, I called and talked to my Dad for the last time. He was dying, he tried to keep the conversation light, the talked about Ichiro and Jr. and how the last game was...All I knew was that I loved him and I'd never see him again. He died on 22 January, 2000. I didn't just lose a Dad, but I lost a friend.
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Don't doubt one second that I loved my mother. There were many weeks that I didn't like her but I always loved her.
One of my earliest memories of my mother was when I was about 5. I had the measles and she bought me chocolate ice cream and liverworst. I liked liverworst and back then we didn't have icecream often, so I chose my favorite. The next memory I know if it more was from the stories she told. I think it was to teach us kids how many times a day we said, "Mom". She made us call her 'Aunt Sadie'. I can barely remember this from real life, but I do remember Mom telling the story.
The next Mom time in my life I think I was 12 or 13. Mom started going through the 'change'. Back then I had no idea what that meant, all I knew was that Mom was acting weird and sometimes down right mean. I can remember my sisters saying Mom was bleeding heavily. The feeling and gist I got from that wasn't something I should ask questions about.
Ok, along about this time I learned a few things I didn't know before. One that Mom and Dad more than likely 'had' to get married. (It was verified many years after Dad's death when Mom told me how he asked her to marry him--I might of asked in the same way due to the shock. "So do you want to get married or what?" Wayne was born almost 8 months to the day of their marriage.
I learned that both of my parents were married before. I wasn't supposed to know about Mom..I heard adults talking while I was in bed trying to sleep. Dad told one of his old friends about his father in law on some subject or the other. On the way back to Uncle Jack's house, I asked him. "How did you meet Grandpa, Dad? He died 4 years before you were married." He explained that he was married before he married Mom. The only question I asked was if I had any siblings from his first marraige. When he said no, that was the end of the subject.
It was about this time when my Mom and Dad split up for about 5 or 6 weeks. I read the note she left him. She said, "All you want me for is whoopee." That was one line. That was the year I found out I had a Aunt Calla too. When she came back from her 'vacation', Calla sent me a Levi's bike bag. It looked like a pair of jeans in a square shape. She made me write her a newsy letter and it had to be at least two pages long. All of that to some strange old woman that I have never, ever seen let alone met.
Part of me wants to curse the name of Joanne Satathite(sp). I don't know if it's true, but supposedly she told mom and showed her about her self worth. That's all well and fine, but she took it to the extreme and made the whole world male versus female. As you all know I'm a guy and some of the time she wasn't kind during this time.
Let's bump up to the point when Dad was in hospice care right before his death. I wanted to come and say goodbye, I had the money to come and say goodbye, my boss was going to give it to me. I could afford a cheap hotel and food on my own. The woman who gave birth to me told me not to come. She told me if I did come, she'd leave town. I thought Dad needed her more than he needed me so I stayed in Washington.
Lets bump it up to 2004/2005. Through different causes, I started to take care of Mom at this time. I think she absolutely loved the control over me. She could complain that I paid no rent, but then sit on her ample backside and not move too. I did pay the house all off my food stamps when I got them and did all of the cooking, cleaning and laundry and errands for the house. She often complained that the money was tight. While I worked on the sly a bit, I suggested that I get at least a part time job to help out. She would be very angry at the idea then she'd promptly get sick shortly afterwards. Ok, other than room and partial board, during the five years I took care of Mom, she paid for my internet.
Ok in Sepember 2008 I do believe, Mom fell and broke her leg. Mom has CHF/COPD she wouldn't take her lasix and other drugs because she'd pee too often. She often wouldn't make it to the toilet, so she'd end up using all of her wardrobe in about 2-3 days. I had them washed by the end of the day--so she'd never run out.
With COPD/CHF if the excess liquid isn't removed from the body, you can't breathe as well. With less oxygen, you can't make the decisions and the thought process is muddled. With Mom her balance was affected too--So as I said abouve, she fell and broke her leg and we called the ambulance.
Well it had happened more than once she didn't take her medicine properly and it affected her thought process and the hospital would give her the meds and increase her O2 levels and she'd spend a few days in rehab and come home. So when she fell, I didn't rush right up to the hospital. I had my laundry in the washer and I wanted to take a shower while it was drying. So about an hour and a half after the ambulance left, I walked into the hospital to see her in the ER. I was glad I made it then, she had been intubated and she was about to be send to Seattle for surgery on her leg because they couldn't handle it locally. (I'm about out of internet time, so I'll either continue this in a bit or next weekend.)
There are many reasons why I wanted him to tell me the stories. The basic reason was that he was getting up there in years and it would be highly unlikely to have him be around to tell them to my children, if I ever have them.
I remember the tales of Uncle Wayne and the pretty green sweater. Dad tapped a mule/horse(don't remember) on the side with some sort of leather apparatus after he and Uncle Wayne were riding the animals. The animal passed wind and other matter, and Uncle Wayne said, "All over my pretty green sweater." Many years later, Uncle Wayne was asked if he had a pretty green sweater as a lad, and he denied it. Our grandmother was right behind him and said, "Wayne Rorie, you did too have a pretty green sweater!" It was atleast 50 years since it happened, and Dad laughed every time he told that story almost to the point of tears.
Then there was stories of the two of them in the service during WWII. I won't account all of them here, because I don't have the time. To end Dad's part of the tale, he was a big Ken Griffey, Jr and Sr. fan. Sr. from the days of the 'Big Red Machine' in the seventies and Jr. from Seattle.
Sometime during the second week of January, I called and talked to my Dad for the last time. He was dying, he tried to keep the conversation light, the talked about Ichiro and Jr. and how the last game was...All I knew was that I loved him and I'd never see him again. He died on 22 January, 2000. I didn't just lose a Dad, but I lost a friend.
============================
Don't doubt one second that I loved my mother. There were many weeks that I didn't like her but I always loved her.
One of my earliest memories of my mother was when I was about 5. I had the measles and she bought me chocolate ice cream and liverworst. I liked liverworst and back then we didn't have icecream often, so I chose my favorite. The next memory I know if it more was from the stories she told. I think it was to teach us kids how many times a day we said, "Mom". She made us call her 'Aunt Sadie'. I can barely remember this from real life, but I do remember Mom telling the story.
The next Mom time in my life I think I was 12 or 13. Mom started going through the 'change'. Back then I had no idea what that meant, all I knew was that Mom was acting weird and sometimes down right mean. I can remember my sisters saying Mom was bleeding heavily. The feeling and gist I got from that wasn't something I should ask questions about.
Ok, along about this time I learned a few things I didn't know before. One that Mom and Dad more than likely 'had' to get married. (It was verified many years after Dad's death when Mom told me how he asked her to marry him--I might of asked in the same way due to the shock. "So do you want to get married or what?" Wayne was born almost 8 months to the day of their marriage.
I learned that both of my parents were married before. I wasn't supposed to know about Mom..I heard adults talking while I was in bed trying to sleep. Dad told one of his old friends about his father in law on some subject or the other. On the way back to Uncle Jack's house, I asked him. "How did you meet Grandpa, Dad? He died 4 years before you were married." He explained that he was married before he married Mom. The only question I asked was if I had any siblings from his first marraige. When he said no, that was the end of the subject.
It was about this time when my Mom and Dad split up for about 5 or 6 weeks. I read the note she left him. She said, "All you want me for is whoopee." That was one line. That was the year I found out I had a Aunt Calla too. When she came back from her 'vacation', Calla sent me a Levi's bike bag. It looked like a pair of jeans in a square shape. She made me write her a newsy letter and it had to be at least two pages long. All of that to some strange old woman that I have never, ever seen let alone met.
Part of me wants to curse the name of Joanne Satathite(sp). I don't know if it's true, but supposedly she told mom and showed her about her self worth. That's all well and fine, but she took it to the extreme and made the whole world male versus female. As you all know I'm a guy and some of the time she wasn't kind during this time.
Let's bump up to the point when Dad was in hospice care right before his death. I wanted to come and say goodbye, I had the money to come and say goodbye, my boss was going to give it to me. I could afford a cheap hotel and food on my own. The woman who gave birth to me told me not to come. She told me if I did come, she'd leave town. I thought Dad needed her more than he needed me so I stayed in Washington.
Lets bump it up to 2004/2005. Through different causes, I started to take care of Mom at this time. I think she absolutely loved the control over me. She could complain that I paid no rent, but then sit on her ample backside and not move too. I did pay the house all off my food stamps when I got them and did all of the cooking, cleaning and laundry and errands for the house. She often complained that the money was tight. While I worked on the sly a bit, I suggested that I get at least a part time job to help out. She would be very angry at the idea then she'd promptly get sick shortly afterwards. Ok, other than room and partial board, during the five years I took care of Mom, she paid for my internet.
Ok in Sepember 2008 I do believe, Mom fell and broke her leg. Mom has CHF/COPD she wouldn't take her lasix and other drugs because she'd pee too often. She often wouldn't make it to the toilet, so she'd end up using all of her wardrobe in about 2-3 days. I had them washed by the end of the day--so she'd never run out.
With COPD/CHF if the excess liquid isn't removed from the body, you can't breathe as well. With less oxygen, you can't make the decisions and the thought process is muddled. With Mom her balance was affected too--So as I said abouve, she fell and broke her leg and we called the ambulance.
Well it had happened more than once she didn't take her medicine properly and it affected her thought process and the hospital would give her the meds and increase her O2 levels and she'd spend a few days in rehab and come home. So when she fell, I didn't rush right up to the hospital. I had my laundry in the washer and I wanted to take a shower while it was drying. So about an hour and a half after the ambulance left, I walked into the hospital to see her in the ER. I was glad I made it then, she had been intubated and she was about to be send to Seattle for surgery on her leg because they couldn't handle it locally. (I'm about out of internet time, so I'll either continue this in a bit or next weekend.)