Back to the Blog!!!
MINE!
...I promise not to even THINK about all the garbage going on in our little 360~World this morning. (Like my danged fat~foot~pain, I have grown WAY too tired of it all anyway)...
Good Morning Everyone, (well, to those of you who are still here)...
Off on a wild tangent here. Was exploring a bit, and also found a few more pictures of my own here. had to fight with my HP Scanner to get them all in, and edited too. Alls well that ends well though...
Oh, and you'd probably want to grab a cup of coffee, it's a long-ish blog...
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I am going to write today of betrayal, guile and deceit. And a few of my own experiences thereof...
de·ceive
VERB:
de·ceived , de·ceiv·ing , de·ceives
To cause to believe what is not true; mislead. Archaic To catch by guile; ensnare.
V: intr.To practice deceit. To give a false impression.
One of Angies recent blogs dealt with her own problems with a friendship she had come to cherish. Click her name for her story.
I have recently learned of deceit by a once~close family member who has forgotten that one of the commandments is "Thou shalt not steal".
I am deciding whether to press charges against this person.
(It is none of my offspring).
...Life. Yeah, it's kinda like that...
Having a conversation with Richard the other day, he had brought up something that I hadn't thought about in years. And that Casey had never known about. Was she shocked or surprised? Not. But the fact that I was surprised when he had even recalled it has given me moments to think on it awhile.
Scenario: Married. Separated. Back together. Separated. Divorced.
All in a 4 and a half year time span.
Less than 1/10th of my entire life, it still bears importance to me; (maybe just because at the time it was 20% of my whole life).
At one point we had moved our married life and two small babies to Holland, Michigan; and then a few months later, to Zeeland Michigan.
It was at that point in Michigan that our marriage was over for me.
No car of my own, I carried the kids, to secure a UHaul... And then packed that truck while "he" was at work. I packed up an entire house, two little babies, and was bound and determined to drive that truck home to Flintville that night.
BUT... (lady luck)...
He came home early that day; and I made the mistake of saying that I was leaving, and that he was "welcome to join me."
(Hindsight being what it is, he wasn't; but he did).
When we got back here, we stayed here at Mom and Dads for a while; just until we could find a place of our own... In the meantime, one of my friends had come over, and had asked me to join her softball team.
But of course I would join!!! I was thrilled to have something, other than tending babies, to do.
Hmmm... Nope, that does NOT make me a bad mother to say that; rather it keeps me honest. (Those babies were born not even 14 months apart).
Another close friend, Cindy VerVaeren (sp), and I spent lots of time together too. She was my confidante. She was my rock. She had an apartment on the west side of town, (the place we had found was on the east side).
We shared our trials with respect to life. She was to be married to a classmate of ours, and asked me to be matron of honor. YAY!
(And once more to reiterate that I was SO happy to be back HOME)!
I played softball... fast pitch, slow pitch, and every other kind. (And I was damn good at it too)! hehehe My "wonderful" husband actually was thrown out of the ballpark at Bay Beach for cursing each and every decision the umps made. Banned from all my games too. I was embarassed that he was there acting like that, and further embarassed at that decision too.
It was during that time that I had met Richard.
Having taken a season off because I was pregnant with Roberta, I still had many friends from my teams. One of the teams I played for was The Surf Club. A quaint, but rather large old "mom~and~pop" type club; owned by Johnnie Johnson and his wife.
One month after Roberta was born I filed for divorce. After going to the shelter, I then moved with my three babies to my parents home; until the idiot was court~ordered to vacate our apartment.
Weeks/months (whatever) later, I was joining some friends at The Surf Club. While they drank or played darts, or shot pool, I was playing at the pinball machine. The door to the club was directly behind me by about 3 feet, if that...
I remember that I had an excellent game going, and had been given TONS of extra games already. My points just kept adding up... (I was sure getting my quarters worth)! hehehe
All of a sudden, to find myself down on the floor, and thrown into the wall at my side.
Hurt.
And there were many people yelling.
Scared, but to turn a bit, and open my eyes after the impact with the wall, I saw my (still then) husband standing there and cursing.
He was over 6' tall, and "Little Mark" as we called him, was 'telling him off'. Mark was maybe all of 5'7" tall. I remember Johnny Johnson yelling too, and telling my idiot husband to "get out and stay out"...
(No one could have stopped it, or barely even seen him come in. It all happened so fast).
Rick had recalled this event the other day... We had been talking about how things had changed during the course of ones lifetime.
He was there that night, and had seen it happen too; but shooting at one of the pool tables at the other end of the place, he had not gotten there fast enough either. (The idiot had already been forcibly removed from the club).
I called Cindy to come and get me. There was no way I was going back to Mom and Dads and have to share this with them. (At that point still, I was still too embarassed to tell them about everything)... And I spent that night at Cindys, along with many more, (in "hiding" if you will, in her security~locked building).
Like I said, she was my rock...
She got married, and I was her matron of honor. Not too very long after that, she came to my townhouse and declared that divorce was wrong. She told me if I went through with the divorce that all of my kids would be stupid juvenile deliquents and wind up in jail. (Things to that nature)... And she told me that a divorced woman alone was useless etc etc etc. And that she didn't care to be friends with me.
I couldn't believe the contempt that came from her. Only a few weeks before having watched her be married, having signed her marriage license.
Asking her to repeat it all, and doubly asking her if this is what she truly believed, I told her, in no uncertain terms, to leave my house, and my life. She did.
I was shattered completely; for I had always honored my friends too. And for the first time in my life, (save for the brutal marriage I'd had), I knew what betrayal felt like. It burnt all the way through... And it cut deep.
Fast forward a few years to our 10 year class reunion. Her husband had come to me asking to 'bury the hatchet'. (Over my dead body).
She'd simply pulled up anchor and had left me.
I didn't want any part of that. Not again. "Fool me once" was enough.
I do remember at that reunion having a glass of lambusco in my hand, and I also remember toying with the idea of tossing it at her cream colored dress. But I didn't. (I think I regret that to this day). Oh well.
The things that have changed during our lifetimes here. Rick is older than I by 10 years. He grew up to do his tours with the Marine Corp in Vietnam. He said when he was a kid that the husbands that beat their wives were scorned a bit, but everyone had a tendency to look the other way. Then came the stick up for a few wives mentality... And then the wives began to stick up for themselves too.
Yet, with respect to domestic violence, the role the police had was only to separate the husbands and the wives; if only to tell them to go cool off for an hour or so!
I swear that with respect to what I went through, my own ex might still be in jail if the laws we have now could somehow be made retroactive.
Now if only we could make our children understand.
Have a great Tuesday.
Love to all.
XOXO
Anne
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