The Beginning, For What I Know

I was born in at Alamance Hospital on June 21st, 1973, at 3:46am. My parents were Ann and Joe. I had a big brother, Tim, who was 3 years old. I am not sure about the first days of my life, except my Mom had a birthday just 3 days after mine. What a birthday present, huh?



The next few months for my mom were hell. I had colic, bad colic. I cried and cried and then I cried some more. The only person that seemed to be able to console me was my Grandma. She did not believe that I was colicky, no, she thought that I was a nervous wreck, since my mom was a nervous wreck. From what I have been told my dad was an ass at the time. He supposedly would get really mad and yell at my mom if I was crying. He wanted her to be able hush me immediately. She was so nervous, afraid of making him angry and I sensed that, so I cried. A vicious circle. My grandma would come over after her 3rd shift at work and sit and hold me, console me, and let my mom rest for a few minutes. I am sure that my Mom loved to see her come and hated to see her leave.

The next few years, I am sure they were filled with all the normal stuff that occurs in most families, with the exception that my parents were not in a happy marriage. They were married at a very young age, my mom only being 16. My mom had a very a rough childhood, which included alcoholic parents. She was the oldest of 7 children, 7 children that she pretty much raised. They were very poor. When my dad came along and the opportunity to leave home was offered, she took it. I am not sure that their marriage was ever really happy. Surely they had to have some point where they had the mushy eyes and the newlywed feeling, however, if they did, I never heard about it.

The nervous baby that I was transformed into a nervous child. My dad would get mad at my mom if he came home and we had toys out. He would allow us to have one thing out at a time. Only one thing. When he was at work, mom would let us play with as much as we wanted to, our living room would be wrecked, up until about 30 minutes before he would arrive. At that time, we would quickly return everything to our rooms, put in its place and make it back out to the living room to look as if that is the way it had been all day. One toy, no messes, just the way he demanded.

My dad was also the man that expected dinner at a certain time, bed at a certain (exact) time, up at a certain time, everything was planned out and it HAD to go just like that. As an adult, I have diagnosed him with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He still has his routines and if you get them off, he is totally out of sorts. We learned to live this way too, or mom caught so much hell.

My dads parents, my Mamas' and Papas', cared for us sometimes, well, actually they cared for me more than Tim. They played favorites terribly. When my mom was pregnant with my brother, Mamas' told my mom that she really hoped that it was not a boy, since she did not want her grandson to be called by their last name, since my mom was from a very poor and alcoholic, family. When Tim was born, it took them several days to even come see him. Things were different when I was born, guess they had no worries that I would carry their name.

I loved my Papas' dearly. He was the classic grandparent. He would "accidentally" lose change in his chair, so that when he would get up, I would find pennies and nickels. How exciting for a little girl like myself. He would play baby dolls with me, rocking them, patting them, pretending they were burping and puking on him. He made me laugh often. He would let me help him leave the squirrels water. He taught me all about God and his creatures. He was the kindness man I knew.

Mamas' tried to be nice, and I guess in her own way, she was. She was just a little up tight. She did, however, teach me to cross stitch, crochet, cook, bake and decorate cakes, she would let me decorate paper plates with the cake icing she was using to decorate elaborate cakes she made. She would also let me cut out patterns that she would then use to make dresses for me.

With all that said, I was by far the favorite grandchild, and that was so very obvious. Rodney and Tracie were. They could do no wrong. We could all make the same grades in school, but somehow they did better than us. I think that Mamas' was the one that felt this way, and my Papas' just did not say anything. He was that kind of man, avoid confutation at any cost. Many examples of the favoritism took place many years, in fact, even to this day.

My mom's parents, Grandma and Grandpa, they were the kind of Grandparents that had nothing but gave all. They loved each and everyone of their grand kids equally. Which had to be hard, since there were so many of us. One of my favorite memories with my Grandma is she had a dresser in her room. In the top left drawer, she hid Twinkies in there for us. That was the best thing for a little girl like myself. I now have that dresser in my room, and I refer to it as the "Twinkie Dresser."

My dad had two siblings, an older brother, Edward, and a twin sister, Brenda. I had three cousins on my dad's side. Edward and wife, Donna, had two kids, Rodney and Tracie, and Brenda had Donnie. Today, I have four second cousins.

My mom, as I mentioned earlier, had 6 siblings. Mom was the oldest. The others, Dorothy (Dot), Mary, Betty, June, Brenda, and William, the only boy. My cousins from my mom's side is quite a long list. There is, David, Jason, Angie, Kim, Marie, Amber, Bruce, Sherry, Sarah, Christina, Amy and Tiffany. The second cousin count from this side of the family is really long, at twelve.

These are the people I grew up with. Some I have fond memories with, some not so much.