Childhood memories

Image by Ivy's World

Dear Galoshes,
Most all of my childhood memories will be of visiting with Grandma and Grandpa Johnson. I very much enjoy the time I am able to spend at their house. I am very attached to the little tins and what-nots Grandma has for me to bake with. We make lots of delicious cookies and pies, cut fresh rhubarb from her garden then eat it raw dipped in sugar. I put on her favorite music just so she will dance around the kitchen to me, it's quite amusing and makes me feel good to see her dance in her apron and socks.

Every day when I wake up from spending the night at her house I hear the sounds of Grandpa whistling and the smell of toast and English muffins in the toaster. It is quite different from waking up at home. At home I listen for my father to leave for the day before I get out of my bed, I dread the weekends as it means he will be around regardless of how long I stay in the safety of my bedroom. At the Johnson's I'm quick to jump out of bed and give grandpa a hug and smile. He is always so happy to see me and grandma offers me a choice of breads from the toaster with my favorite home made jams or cinnamon sugar. What I would give to have one of those mornings back again.

Love,
MaryJanes

Reflections

Image By: warmwhispers

April, 1985

Dear MaryJanes,

I turn 22 years old this month and wonder what I will ever become when I "grow up." I worry about this often as I have no plan. My mom had wanted me to go to beauty school, but the thought of wrapping little, old lady's hair up in perm rollers just didn't sound like a suitable career for me. I worry that I will never have a plan beyond being a nanny. I know that for me, being with you full time, up until kindergarten is what I feel I need to do. I don't have the option of being a homemaker and stay at home mom. I have to earn an income and pay my portion. Your father and I continue to separate our money and I continue to cover your expenses.

Your father and I actually have some fun times together. We go to visit with his folks and his mother and I talk about all of the "what ifs" in life. She became pregnant with their oldest when she was unwed as well, though she was only seventeen at the time. I suppose that for this reason she was so adamant with your father that he was to marry me when you were conceived. She tells me her secrets of how she felt when she became pregnant. She explains that she was so upset with your grandfather that he had put her in that condition. We talk about what our lives would be if we each had not become unwed mothers. I explain to her that I love being a mother, and would not change that for one second. I only wish that her son would be the kind of man that her husband was. She confides me that she feels sheltered and over protected. She shares with me that my father-in-law does not like her to venture out without him. He worries for her safety. I envy her position, if only her son would show some sign of leadership in his role as a father and husband. She and I can sit for hours and talk about life and what we dream about. I enjoy her friendship and consider her to be a very good friend and confidante.
While the two of us chat, your father and his dad wander outside and talk about the things that matter to them. Your father looks up to your grandfather and they share many interests. He is a perfect role model for your father, if only he would follow the lead.

Image by Alice B Gardens

Your grandmother has a little brown cupboard that she hides treasures in for you to discover each time we come for a visit. We call it the three bears cupboard. It is child size and has cute, little doors and drawers. It is filled with miniature baking supplies and you love to use it to pretend baking. Their house is warm and inviting and the aroma of homemade bread lingers in the air. It's enjoyable to be there and I find that your father and I act like an actual married couple while we visit with them. You love being there and your grandparents love you so much.

Their house is decorated with many antiques. Beautiful, simply artwork hangs from each wall. I am drawn to one framed picture in particular. It is a young woman wearing peasant clothing with two large baskets of fresh flowers draped over her shoulders then dangling down from a shoulder rack. She appears to be on a upper class walk way, at the door steps of a lavish house. I take her to be selling her flowers door to door in a neighborhood in which she does not reside. The gaze on her face gives me the impression she feels less than average in her less than average clothing among those beautiful homes. I suppose those women that answer her knock are dressed in gorgeous gowns and purchase fresh flowers daily to adorn their crystal vases that are displayed under the glow of fantastic crystal chandeliers. I can relate to the woman in the picture. I am drawn to her like she is a reflection of myself. The difference between us is that I do not dream of a lavish life style, but merely a warm and loving home in which to raise you.

Now enjoy yourself.

Love, Galoshes

Recordings of the past

 Image by She Hit Pause Studios

Dear Galoshes,
One of my favorite things are those tapes of the two of us chattering.  Although I do not wear dresses much I'm sorry to say the girly girl thing is NOT a phase.  I will never enjoy getting dirty, hiking, or nature much.  I love to look at nature, but don't care much to be a PART of it.  I LOVE to read.  I must get that from your mother, although I do enjoy your made up stories. I will always be quite serious as well. We are pretty different in almost every way, yet we will always be the best of friends (even when you start telling me how to raise my kids, which will prove to be the test of our relationship).  The art however does stick and I will always enjoy creating things, this we will always have in common. 

Love,
MaryJanes

Pretty Little Dresses

Image by Bucks Country Frames

December 1984,

Dear MaryJanes,

I find myself wondering who came up with the saying of "terrible twos"? You will be turning two years old next month and I am enjoying this age so much! You love to color and draw and we spend allot of time doing crafts. Your father's parents read to you, and this is a good thing as I am not a reader. I love to make up stories in place of the actual words. Let's hope you don't end up with a reading disorder from my imaginary stories. You sit very still and pay close attention to the details of each story. We point to the pictures and with my fingers I swirl around the pages to show you the dramatics of the adventure that I have conjured up in my head. If my finger stops for too long, you are sure to take hold of it and guide it along the page. You love to get all cozy with a blanket and pillows all arranges up around you. I prop you up inside a collection of them and get you all snug, like a hibernating bear. You are more on the serious side, though
when you giggle and smile, a cute little dimple appears on your check. Your hair is getting long and is the color of sunshine. You could not be any cuter.

Image by Sixth and Main

When you and I are at home, I set up the tape recorder and let it record your chatter. Some times when I ask you a question, your voice is so cute that I ask it again just to be sure the recorder picks it up.
A funny thing about life, my mom would have loved for me to be a girlie girl and dress up in pretty, frilly dresses and shiny shoes. I would have no part of that. I wanted blue jeans, raggy shirts and bare feet. I remember school shopping with her every year, she would take me to the clothes department and I hated it. My clothes were fine and I didn't need new ones. A pair of new jeans and a couple of T-shirts would due. Then there is you, the girlie girl. I try to put you in blue jeans and you want the dress. You are the child my mom wanted. Maybe this is a phase and you will learn to love Oshkosh Bi Gosh Blue jean bib overalls some day? Maybe...

Now Listen Closely.

Love,
Galoshes

Spending Time Waiting

Image by Karcharz Photography

September, 1984

Dear MaryJanes,


You continue to make me smile with your sweet little ways. There is something about the softness of your baby legs that makes me squeeze them and say, "I am going to get your chunk-o- legs" You giggle with anticipation.
I have taken you to spend a few hours here and there with your father. He usually asks me to stay around or go somewhere with the two of you. I usually end up doing so, with hopes of having "family time" and it does not occur to me that this just makes it easier for him to watch you. He tells me that he has to drive by my apartment every day to and from work and it has become very dangerous. He explains that he tries to look over into the parking lot to see if my car is there and what type of car might be parked near it. He tells me that he has almost gotten into a few accidents doing this, I think to myself, {well...then don't do that!} He seems to be jealous of the unknown events that might or might not be happening in my life. This gives me a sense of accomplishment. Is he learning?
On a Wednesday in the middle of the month I had a date set up with a guy I had met while out with my friend. Our plans were simple, he was coming over for a visit, and to have dinner. I spend allot of time getting ready and have everything set for dinner. He should arrive about 11:30am. He should.....but he doesn't. For the first time in my life, I am being stood up. I put you down for a nap, and I lay down on my bed and drift off.

Image by Karcharz photography

A knock on the door wakes me up after about an hour. I look out the peek hole and see blond hair, he finally made it, I assume. I open the door and say, "Where have you been?" But to my surprise it's your father. He sees that I am "dolled up" as he refers to my hair blown dry and make up on. I see his face turn to serious and maybe even a little surreal. He asks if I was expecting someone and then begins to snoop around. He goes as far as to even open the refrigerator and see the large steak I have ready to prepare. He says, " I can't take this anymore, I miss you and I can't stand thinking about other guys dating you." Has he had an epiphany? Or is it that autumn is in the air and is to be followed by winter. Summer is winding down and motor cycle season is dwindling away.

It's interesting that later, I learn that your father actually met the guy that stood me up. How small is this world? I had met him on a Saturday night, and I had saw your father the next day and told him I had been on a date, I even told him the guy's name when he asked. Later on Wednesday he tells me that he actually met the guy on Monday at a motorcycle shop he was at. Turns out they both went to the same cycle shop, on the same day and struck up a conversation. And then my name became the topic. So, I ask myself, was I stood up or was it an intervention? I guess I will never know.

Your father is handsome and charming and I tend to forgive him too easily. I so want this family to be together and to make a happy home. I can work hard enough at it to make it happen. I just need a few crumbs thrown my way now and then. When he and I go out and have a good time, I am on a high. His gift of gab with people amuses me and I enjoy the new adventures that he brings into my life. I am a junkie for those times, always waiting for the next "fix."

So here we go again, we will give this union, called marriage another try. He makes many promises and I believe he is sincere, time will tell. Keep in mind that I am young and trusting.

Now Give It Time.

Love, Galoshes

In Plain View

Image by alice b gardens

July, 1984

Dear MaryJanes,

I will write this down on this white sheet of paper but I will not talk to you about this until you are a woman yourself. But then again I may never tell you. I have never shared this information with anyone. As it turns out, I won't until I am in my 40's. If I don't share it, maybe it was not real.

{I was raped.}

There, I wrote it. But I still don't except it. Maybe if I write it again......?

{ I was raped.}

A new family had moved into the neighborhood when I was a young girl. I know that I was young enough that I had not gotten my periods yet. Though, I was old enough to babysit my younger cousin. She was about 4 years old at the time, so that would make me between 11 and 12. The new family had a very cute boy named Dave, he was a bit older than me, by about 3 or 4 years, and I developed an instant crush on him. His little sister, Linda was the same age as me and we started a friendship, mostly I just used our friendship to get closer to Dave. She and I had little in common, she was a city girl, and I a country girl. The other girls my age had not developed as soon as I did, and boys tended to notice this. Dave was not to be excluded from this club of boys. A group of the neighborhood girls were all hanging out together on a day that I was watching my little cousin. A game of kick ball started up and Dave joined in. There was only one other boy, Richie, playing along with us. He was a couple of years younger than me, though big for his age. I won't go into all of the details beyond me accidentally kicking the ball and it hitting Dave. This made him mad, and you could see it in his eyes. Everyone could see it. He ran and tackled me onto the ground and summoned Richie. I could sense that something was very wrong and yelled to my friends, "Get "little cousin" out of here." "Don't tell My dad!" I have often wondered why I said that. I know that I wanted them to get my little cousin away from view, but why did I not ask a couple of them to stay? Why did they all run? And why the hell did I direct them not to tell me dad? I feared my father, and Dave was my "friend." Was I protecting Dave? I think that I feared that anything that Dave did, could not compare to the wrath of my own father. Everything would get twisted around, and he would conclude that I must have done something to provoke the events that were to follow. Dave was going to do something to me, I was certain of that, but what, I didn't know. He had Richie pin my arms down as Dave sat on top of me. My shirt was lifted to expose that I was developing breasts. He gave Richie a quick lesson in a girl's upper anatomy. We are in the front yard of a neighbor that might or might not be home. We are on the side of the country road and in plain view of the neighbors a crossed the road. We are kiddy corner from Dave's own house. It's right in that spot that I learn that Dave is not a nice boy and not to be worthy of my crush.
I don't talk about this to anyone, not even the girls that ran, my best friends. I don't tell my sister, my brother or my mom. I just bury it for years and years. I didn't really understand the whole thing before, during or after it happened. No one talked to me about such things. I do not remember walking home, seeing my cousin again that day, or her going home. Years later she questions me about that day as she remembers bits of it.

Image by karcharz

And so when you are a bit older, and you wonder why I ask you questions like, "where are you going?" "who will be there?" or "what is he like?" you will know why. You will also understand why, when you asked me questions about life, I gave you honest and direct answers so that you would be informed. Then someday when you have read this letter, you will know that it was to protect you and to keep the lines of communication open between us. Because I never want you to write the words.....

{I was rapped.}

Now, better understand me.

Love,
Galoshes

Alternate Ending

Image by Jen Kiaba photography

Dear Galoshes,
Reading this now I vaguely recall this gesture of raising a pinky as a sign of love. Funny to know now where it came from. My memory of it had to be from you and my father. How I wish that it could have been Bill instead. I remember many times asking about your past loves, before dad, and being told of Bill and how smitten he was with you. But I was never told that you had given it another shot after I had joined your life. Obviously, I was too young to create memories of him myself. I wish he had worked out for you. I wish you could have felt for him what he did for you. I wish you could have had some stability and support in your life. Maybe I could have avoided my daddy issues and had a normal healthy relationship with an adult male had he been in our lives.

I think it strange that you could not bring yourself to find happiness with him, a man who loved and cared for you, yet you tried so hard to find happiness with my father who was selfish and hurtful. I find in life that I am rarely lead by my heart and always make decisions with my mind. Perhaps this is why.

Image by MFAYRE Photography

Maybe it's a coping mechanism, maybe I'm delusional, but although I can recall what my childhood was actually like, the yelling and drinking by my father, I believe I had a good childhood. You see, you were MY stability and support in life. You were my constant, and although you didn't always provide a consistent environment, your love and devotion to me was rock solid. Maybe Bill could have done the same thing for you. Though if he had, we would not be the same people we are today and our story as we know it would cease to be.

Love,
MaryJanes