Keeping the Peace

Hello, my friends. I'm ashamed that it's been so long since I've written for you. I've had a couple of weeks that have been too full of memories, some good, some bad. There have been some other challenges as well, which seems to have stifled my will and ability to write. But here I am again, ready to let my fingers tippy-tap on the keyboard. 

I am sure that some of my memory and emotional glut has to do with a few things. Of course, there's those two unwanted guests, Stress and Worry. They come in whenever they wish and refuse to leave when asked nicely. I shan't bore you all with the whys of their companionship, but I will say that their visits leave me exhausted.

Another thing happening a lot lately is thinking about family, and remembering things that I haven't thought about in ages. In some cases, they're things that I haven't thought about at all, and they jump into my conscious thoughts and surprise me. I have more time for reflection these days, and maybe that's why so many things are starting to surface. Since I've lost my number-one cheerleader and supportive sounding-board person, these memories often bite deeper than they would have when Trent was still here.

I've been thinking a lot about Gram and some of the dynamics of her family. By that, I mean her three children, Alice, Jackie, and Harold. I remember some of the stress they added to my life, and can only imagine what the stress was like for Gram. You see, all three of these offspring were very jealous of any bit of attention Gram paid to the others. Frankly, it was aggravating and exhausting. It also, I think explains a few of the ways they (especially Alice) interacted with, and judged, me.

I learned very soon after moving in to Gram's house that the management of her adult children's feelings was an important thing to her. When I grew a bit older, I remember her referring to something called keeping the peace. As I entered adulthood, it was often combined with snide or cruel comments that were meant to reinforce her belief that her family came from far superior stock than what Liz and I sprang from. As an example, I grew pretty adept at doing minor household repairs. I could replace the flushing mechanism of a toilet or install new light switches, or even repair the cranking window mechanisms in the house. Sometimes, though, she didn't want me to do these repairs. She wanted it to be left for her son to do, apparently so he would feel needed and wanted. I would offer to do the repair or pay for someone to do it professionally, but she wouldn't hear of it. Her son would want to do it, and it was important to keep the peace in a family. If you didn't keep the peace, a family would be broken apart (like mine). So we lived in a house with windows that wouldn't open, and various other problems, because her son was busy and we had to make sure he kept feeling good about himself. And when she had her final decline in health, he raged for hours about the number of repairs that I had allowed to pile up. Of course it was my fault.

And the jealousy amongst the three of them, especially between Alice and Jackie, over Gram spending the least bit of time with any of the siblings was horrible. If Alice wanted Gram to go to the library with her and Liz or I stayed home, we were given strict instructions. If Jackie or Harold were to call while she was out with Alice, we were to tell them that she was out, but not with whom. We dreaded the phone ringing any time she left, because if one called while the other was out with Gram, a screaming match or temper tantrum was certain to follow. Heaven forbid that she might enjoy a bit of time spent with one of her own children. And preparing for major holidays was a nightmare. I can't even face talking about it right now. Maybe I need to do another post about that, perhaps with a title like My Holidays in Hades.

In retrospect, I believe that Alice's adamant refusal to allow me to perform in school stage productions, even though the drama teachers really wanted me to, was a reflection of her jealousy of her sister Jackie. Jackie was an accomplished dancer who toured with the USO. Gram showed me a picture of Jackie in Stars and Stripes with the caption, "Hey, boys, here's Denver's Darling, Jackie C-----!" She was lovely in the photo, wearing a dance costume that showed off her legs. And since I'm able to do basic math, I was able to figure out that when she got married, there was a little bun in her oven. I never said a word about it to Gram, but it perhaps sheds a little light on the whole litany of insults employed to explain away why I wasn't allowed to audition for choir or be in any plays or even do a sleepover with my cousin. Acting was a rough life. Choir went on overnight trips (also a sleepover excuse), and people who didn't sleep in their own beds were tramps.

Jackie was a whole 'nother kettle of fish. I think she still thought she was the prettiest girl on the block long after her youthful beauty faded. She also wanted to be the wisest as well the sharpest knife in the drawer. She was one of those people who might say something in your house about your neighbor and whisper when saying it, and ask if we should shut the windows so the neighbors wouldn't hear what we said. She was also one of those people who would keep predicting something dire for years and years so that she could say she told you so. 

Let's face it, we're all going to die some day. If you predict someone's death often enough and long enough, you will eventually be proven right. Around 1978, Jackie started quietly whispering to me that Gram looked terrible, and that she wasn't going to last much longer. That was when I quit being able to sleep well. I was always listening in case something went wrong with Gram. If I heard her shuffle into the bathroom during the night, I had to wait for the shuffle back to her room and the sounds of her settling back into her bed before I could relax again and sleep. Jackie kept up with her doom and gloom predictions, and was eventually proved right. In 1997. After only 19 years of predictions of Gram's imminent death, Jackie was finally right.

You know, Jackie used to say such nice things to someone's face and then turn around and say something really crappy when they were gone or she thought she couldn't be heard. Obviously, the women her sons chose to marry were completely unworthy of her boys or the rest of her family. There were many times that she told me that she liked me or that if she had ever had a daughter, she wished that she would have been like me. Once, I was invited along for the long ride to a neighboring town to visit her older son and his new wife. Since I was eager to hear gossip, which absolutely was going to happen, I faked being asleep not long into the car ride home. Imagine the sting when Jackie looked in her rear view mirror at me seemingly unconscious and said to Gram, "It's asleep." IT. I guess it was a good reminder that even though the daughter-in-law was hated, I was still genetically and socially inferior to the rest of the family.

Over the years, Jackie tried to maintain her delusion that she was hip to everything, and that there was very little she didn't know about. She felt free to correct doctors whenever they might explain something. She  would tell Gram things about her or her husband's health conditions that occasionally made me laugh out loud. Seriously, I couldn't stop myself. When she told Gram that her husband had been tested and found to have sleep apathy, I really busted a gut. Think about it for a second. Instead of telling her mother that he needed a CPAP, she essentially said that as far as sleep was concerned, he just didn't give a CRAP. 

The biggest one related to me had to do with my diagnosis of systemic lupus. As you probably know, lupus is an autoimmune disorder, and systemic lupus can cause someone's death. While I was still in the hospital, Jackie had to phone Gram about my diagnosis. I bet that even though I was in the hospital, Jackie still whispered on the phone. While I was in the hospital with twenty-five pounds of water retention, kidneys beginning to fail, and blood pressure high enough to categorize me as being in imminent danger of a stroke, Jackie made sure Gram knew what was wrong. Keep in mind that this was before home computers. Heck, it was pretty much before most businesses had computers. But Jackie told Gram that she had "looked into it" and the reason that I had lupus was because I didn't wash my face properly. I'm grateful that Gram came to me for the truth and believed me instead of her daughter that time around.

I feel really bad about spilling all of this because it makes me seem like a horrible, hateful relative. But I truly loved these people. I didn't always like them, but I did love them. Despite the sayings, though, loving people does not make you automatically blind to their faults. And I'm still not a fan of lying to keep the peace.

 

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