“Mama may have, papa may have
But God bless the child that’s got his own
That’s got his own”
~ Billie Holiday
My father was an enlisted man. He graduated from high school along with seven other students. The rural area of Kentucky had a population less than thirty-five, and he was the son of a tobacco and dairy farmer. He endured the Kentucky winters without electricity or indoor plumbing. A coal burning stove was the only heat in the middle of the sitting room. His bedroom was so cold a Coca-Cola bottle would freeze solid and shatter, the cavities in his teeth were so big he had to stuff white bread into the gaps to relieve the pain enough to sleep at night. He was an only child and painted the barn with kerosene at the age of three. No one even cared.
My mother, a young Fillipina with ten brothers and sisters lived in a thatched hut on the outskirts of a military base. She picked bananas all day to provide for her family. She met my father outside a movie theater on the base. Her date stood her up, so my father swooped in and took her to a movie, then eventually from her family, homeland and connections. She was known to clutch a hand size, red leather bound English dictionary in one hand, her rosary in the other. They didn’t have much, but they did have love.
My mother passed when I was three and a half. My brother was nine weeks old. Yes, weeks. She died two days before her 30th birthday. My devastated father was ordered to Vietnam, and my brother and I went to live on the farm in the same house he grew up in…still no electricity or indoor plumbing. Just a coal burning stove and total lack of connections and conversations. I lived there a year. A man (my father) came back to get me, though he left my brother (my only connection) for two more years. He took me to Tennesee so I could get ready for kindergarten. I was confused, detached, disoriented and disappointed. This man was a zombie, and I was invisible to him. I still am.
Today I am a mother of two children, a teacher for 20 years and survivor of every kind of violation a child can endure. However, in spite of the visible wounds, the emotional impoverishment killed the most. The problem is invisible, and silent.
It doesn’t have to be. Not if we address the emotionally lazy mentality that is so pervasive in our country. This group inhabits every profession, with every caliber of credentials and degrees. They are every day people, all across our fifty states. They are detached and disconnected; drifting through their days with pacification rather than sacrifice, because working on the mind, heart, and soul of a child, with the simple gift of time is just too hard.
Our children take their cues from the behavior of adults. So which citizen are you? The committed role model with mindful conduct on a consistent basis, making yourself available to your children first, or the erratic, emotionally vacant, pacify through consumerism and let everyone else do the heavy lifting type?
Time with a child is treasure. When did we first know to believe in ourselves? Who gave us that courage to believe?
I pay it forward and pass it on because my teachers did it for me. You can too, and you don’t need a credential to influence a child in a positive way. You just need to carve out the time to consistently, and genuinely, care. One child makes a difference. A change in mindset starts with you. Today.
Namas Daisy
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You make a great case for the role of mentors in today’s world.
Wow, what a plesant surprise. I came in this morning to find a post and it isn’t even Monday. Don’t tell WD, but I read your post before his.
I agree 100% with you Daisy. It doesn’t matter what your past was, what matters is that you don’t pass that along to the children of today. I never knew my father. He had all sorts of addictions, 9 children with 7 different women, and left my mom when I was 3.
For so long I was scared that I would not be a good father, that I would be like him. But I finally came to terms that it was up to me to change that. Needless to say, my daughter loves to have me around and my son fights mommy to take a nap because he can curl up with daddy much better.
I am glad that you decided not to replicate your past. Teachers are a wonderful thing, especially when they have your kind of mindset. Thank you Daisy, from all of your students, including this one.
Time is something I can give. And usually I love spending time with my son. If I’m not able to be his mentor, I hope he finds someone who can, because that’s something I always wanted for myself and have yet to find.
I am sorry for the pain you endured as a child, Daisy. Having a slightly similar story, I have accepted my past and decided that if I could do it all again, I would not change a thing. I would choose the same fate a hundred times over because God placed those trials in my path for a reason. Not only did He give me obstacles, He provided the resources to overcome them.
I am still healing~ I will probably die with oozing emotional wounds, but I work on them every day with God’s help.
Thank you so much for sharing.
I don’t think our parents were taught how to be. It seems especially true when I read a story like yours. My dad endured a hardscrabble upbringing very similar to your father’s - I hinted at it here: Found at Brush Ridge in 1937
Daddy never said too much. He didn’t have to, because there is a way of showing love without ever saying it out loud. That is his legacy, even though he’s been gone for 25 years. I ache for every child who lives with the demons of another. Why someone is unaware that their deficits multiply in a small impressionable is beyond me.
I had a typical middle class upbringing with a family who loved me. But I can relate to the disconnect, at lest to some degree. As a kid I was never really good at socializing. As a result I found myself to be the outcast in many circumstances. I truly believe that personal connections to those who love you is paramount to your core sense of well being.
Thanks for allowing us to peer into your troubled past so we can understand more about what you’ve overcome and how it has shaped you.
@Jamie: I appreciate you sharing your insight as well. It is only by God’s grace that I am able to live a life of abundance.
Very touching post and a wonderful reminder of what we are to our children. As a mom with tons of commitments, I often get frazzled and must remind myself of what’s really important. Thanks for the reminder.
Thanks for sharing your story.They say “Time costs nothing” but I think quality is more important,how we share those precious moments we have with our kids.Whenever one of mine tries to talk to me I really try to stop the world,to listen.
Poverty can be found all ober the world, but I think that loosing our values makes us really poor, Mother Theresa’s teachings are a good start for us these days
Patricia
Hey, Baby! I’m glad you dropped your words today instead of Monday. I love listening to your stories, but they’re even better when published on this here internet deal. Mark my words, this computer fad is totally gonna catch on.
Cindy - Jesus, that was powerful. I’m wiping tears from my eyes. Thank you for sharing what must have been difficult to write. Thank you more for rising above what life handed you in order to be a better parent and role model. Surely, many children are blessed for having you in their lives. We are all blessed for having read this. Perhaps it may even open eyes long closed by the harshness of life.
Sean - LOL … fad.
JD: Mentoring is quiet way to provide community service and it has no limits except absence of self discipline to reach out and walk a mile in some one else’s shoes. The knowledge gained will inspire and catapult everyone to a higher ground. Contact your local elementary school and be volunteer listener or reader to a struggling emergent reader. A whole lot of conversation and bonding can take place over a 17-20 piece of literature. Be a VIP. A very important person in a young person’s life.
Sal: It is empowering to know that our parent’s issues can stay with the ghost of Christmas past. That’s why it is called MY family, so you can do it the way you know it should be done and you remember all the moments when you said, “I will never do this to another person.” Taking the step to not let their issues become your issues requires a lot of rewiring and rehabilitating of the brain, but it sounds like to me you won the family lottery. Good on you, and thank you for being genuine and generous with your words.
Oktober Five: Your son is the most important commodity. Your role to teach him how to be a gentleman with emotional, intellectual and social intelligence is the grace that is missing in many households. There are many pillars of support in our reach, it’s just a matter of finding the right connection that speaks to us like hearing the perfect song at the perfect moment. When your son can’t hear your voice he will seek another, but never doubt for a second that YOU are the center of his world and maybe he is the one who will mentor you.
Jamie: “I would choose the same fate a hundred times…” My exact sentiment. Writer Dad and I always say we would never change a thing about our childhood if we could go back in time no matter how painful the moments were because then we wouldn’t be where we are today holding hands, skipping rope and bringing along two more young people to tighten our crew and make our rope stronger. Rewiring the brain and killing the ruminating thoughts is a daily ritual that I have come to accept. I will never be able to change my knee jerk reaction of a trigger from an event from my past, but I become more graceful in how I deal with the issue each day and mediate and meditate my way through the maze peacefully for myself and for my family. On the days I fail miserably and there doesn’t seem to be enough chocolate cake in the world to fill the void in the pit of my stomach, I just eat more chocolate cake chased by some plain milk chocolate M & M’s and call it a day until I can have a RE DO tomorrow. Let’s heal together….life’s too short. We need to cut the emotional cancer out of our esteem and let confidence be our chemotherapy. Thank you for being supportive.
Betsy: “Hardscrabble upbringing” Your words provoked imagery that delivered in “Found at Brush Ridge in 1937s”. I am happy to find your words and hope many will read your story. You are inspirational and I hope the ache you feel for the demons others have endured is being touched by a gift of time and your stories to a young impressionable mind that won’t feel alone in this world because your story can help connect the dots.
Eric: Socializing is brutal on the school yard. Have you stepped foot on a middle school campus in the last couple of years? It was terrifying when we were students, but now it is a crazier world of the have and have nots as well as the saltier profane rites of passages to being accepted and belong to a group. The personal connections need to start as early as possible and all the confidence in the world can be modeled by those who are at the center of your world. Mia and Max make decisions independent of Writer Dad and I in their own private Idaho of preschool and elementary school. it’s their place to practice, fall down and say something righteous for the underdog. However, we have the safety net to catch every night when we break bread as a family for dinner. Dinner is a non negotiable meal together. We have 2 rituals. Everyone talks about the best part of their day and the worst part or just okay or maybe your day was just THATperfect. (like when BloggerDad made the Namesté chalkboard) Max usually has 2 best parts( he has also internalized this tradition to heart because if we are out to dinner or having pizza night hotel style with palates and P.J.’s he reminds us that we forgot best part,worst part), but lately some very important issues have surfaced like tonight: “the worst part of my day was when_______said shut up!” at Teddy Bear School. A teachable moment, time to vent, make a connection and move on to part two of dinner ritual..dinner music (everbody gets a night of the week to choose music and each family member decides on one dinner for the weekly family menu. We dance off dinner to a favorite song (yes we are super dorks and make the playlist ahead of time and put it on the computer). “Daft Punk is Playing at My House” is very popular right now and appropriate because there are children at our preschool every day that we are” showing the ropes.” My personal favorite cheek to cheek with Writer Dad is “At Last” by Etta James. The look in our children’s eyes as they see us lovingly twirl and dip is branding an impression that will last forever. Hopefully they will find a mate as great.
Mary: Mom to Mom it is a frazzled life that is bold with excitement, endless commitments and self combustible energy that can go in a positive or negative direction. Ownership and reflection is part of the action. My daughter and I always put our right hand over our heart and hold hands with the left one so that our hearts will beat at the same rate after a couple of minutes. 2 minutes seems like forever in the frenetic life of juggling family, business and personal needs, but this strategy works for us. It makes me stop and realize what is important as you said. I taught it to Mia because I used it as a classroom strategy when students got worked up about tests, peer pressure etc. and sometimes Mia can be a tornado of gregarious and sassy spirit. However, Mia really took the idea to heart figuratively and literally. When she initiates it I feel humbled and mentored by my best work so far in life. My children keep me in check as much as Writer Dad and I keep them in check. The reciprocity is awesome. Breathe……. because breath gave us life. Tomorrow is another day. We have the chance to make it better than today. Go do your thing Mama Bear!
Patricia: You are right, quality is always more rewarding than quantity. I love your line, “Whenever one of mine tries to talk to me I really try to stop the world, to listen.” Usually it is that simple. Stop, look them in the eyes and listen with your heart. It is contagious and Writer Dad and I will practice what we preach when we help Mia’s school and teachers by tutoring 4th grade students to prepare for the state writing exam in March. We are each giving 10 hours (ten 1 hour writing sessions on early dismissal Thursdays) of tutorial writing support starting in January to our overcrowded 35:1 4th grade classrooms. Being a former 4th grade teacher, Writer Dad has felt my pain when I relentlessly tried to reach and connect with every child in the writing process and the 100 other MUST do’s. Our mission is to recruit 8 more parents to make it an even 100 hours of instructional, emotional, social and intellectual support. Whether you are helping your own child, a neighbor, or giving time at your local schools, the outcome cannot add up to anything but a bonus. Thank you for stating the simple so well.
Writer Dad: My biggest cheerleader. I know to NOT be intimidated by your tenacious spirit or ability to pontificate until dawn with words PDF or verbally. You inspire and bring the best out of everyone that has the opportunity to know you. Our children have won the Father Lottery and our clients will never have a teacher as truly authentic and articulate as Mr. Sean. It might seem like “just” preschool to most, but no one but you, the child and the Gods know how special our school has been for the 3 month to 3 year old crowd’s developmental process for the last 3 years. I am excited about touching more lives and holding your hand. I am not afraid to start from the beginning.
Blogger Dad: You know how it is when you find your voice? You have to write from the heart. Sometimes that is where the best material lives, but your have to be willing to let it go and do your dance. Chicken dancing, ballroom dancing, …make up your own moves and don’t be afraid. Writing frees and feeds your soul and the scales of happiness versus unhappiness is tipping more and more in our favor with every syllable. Thank you for commenting. You are like a celebrity to me and your stories and humor always makes me feel better. The chocolate birthday cake post hilarious. Writer Dad says time heals all wounds. “No it can’t!” I have been known to say…… I can be feisty so he says, but I think I am just being determined. i am realizing slowly and humbly that maybe he is right. As the scales of happiness gets heavier I am starting to believe all the pain has a specific purpose. I just need to continue chipping away at it until I strike gold. We are all like the pioneers seeking a better life, making a better life and living a better life. It starts from inside. Aren’t you glad you know the secret? Thank you for helping me feel less vulnerable about expressing so much.
Daisy - what you endured, sad, and frightening. What you write, and how you look at life now - beautiful.
I hope I’m there for my children, for my children’s friends, for the kids I coach….but I do question if I sometimes slip….hopefully not too often. I think now about my youngest child - 9 years old. And the joy “I” get when he still wants to hold my hand when I put it out…I don’t want that to end…and yet…I know a day will come when that will not be “cool”. Until then, I will treasure these moments…
What a sad childhood you’ve been through! It must have taken a lot of courage to be where you are now. I’m glad that you were lucky enough to meet teachers who have helped you along the way and you are now in a position to provide the best care for your kids. Thanks for being here today with such an important message to share to all!
The Evil Genius will tell a stranger he loves them. He means it. We aren’t afraid to love, around here. The light in his eyes when I drop whatever I’m doing and play, read, cuddle, or talk with him is worth the delay in housework, writing, or whatever I’m distracting myself with. The chores will be there when he is done wanting me.
Yesterday he ran out of the house in a shirt, his underwear, and one sock because “Mommy, I love you!! Daddy, I came out because I JUST HAD TO TELL Mommy that!”
I found it easier to weather the physical…events…in my childhood than the emotional neglect, distancing, and battery. The physical fades…but the psyche, once scarred, is altered forever. A paucity of love, affection, or care can do more damage than an empty belly…but it can also give one a powerful source for love and compassion later in life - it’s all in how we choose to use it.
Please pardon the language - from shit grows a garden, if we care to do the work.
You, m’lady, appear to be full of blooms.
Shade and Sweetwater,
K
Hi Daisy aka Cindy - Welcome to blogosphere. Writer Dad has spoken so much about you, I felt like we knew you. What a joy it is to have you blogging, too. Your story touched my heart, and also acts as a great reminder for everyone who reads this that children are precious and we need to treat them accordingly.
Beautiful post. Subscribed!
Hi Baby, it’s me. I’m just checking out the new plugins. I’ll delete me later.
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Just want to see if the subscribe works.
Writer Dad´s last blog post..Forty Days and Forty Nights
Like a charm. Unless you learn how to delete me, I’m going to climb up your little comment ladder. : > )
Writer Dad´s last blog post..Forty Days and Forty Nights
Lance: School of ” Hard Knocks” has taught me that thorns have roses. Writer Dad taught me when you are around the right people more days of happiness prevails over the days of sadness. Holding hands is the best. Tell your son that your hearts will beat at the same rate if you hold hands long enough. Staying connected and tender is an important emotion to model. He will be a better father, husband and friend. It’s always so hard when our children take that next step, but there is never a doubt in my mind that we will remain the center of their world as long as we invest in their heart mind and soul and always keep our finger on the pulse of what makes them tick. I taught 4th graders for 8 years ranging in schools that invoked “Oh my goodness you teach at “that” school to well this book is too simple for my child and the dialect they use in Shiloh, isn’t that promoting bad grammar? 9-10 year olds are at that time independence and responsibility, but too old to show emotion. It is one of my personal favorite years to grow with a child as a practitioner. They are not afraid to express emotions or make connections. One of my favorite moments was reading Shiloh and Stone Fox as a whole class. Everyone had their own copy. I always made sure every child had a personal copy of a book we read as a class. We would tear the book apart literary element by element, use our critical thinking, but the tears the literature would invoke when the truly emotional parts came and the crocodile tear would swell in the corner of my eye….the panoramic view of the room and noses sniffling and hands quickly wiping a fleeing tear made me know they were alive, the book was alive, the words came to life and the passion for teaching with great words to teach an important character trait lesson was planted and our class scored a point for walking in another man’s shoes through literature. Hold hands Lance. Even when your son thinks he is too cool to hold hands you can always sit together and cuddle with a great book. I still love it. It is one of my favorite things Writer Dad does for me. Hold my hand and read a book.
Evelyn: Turning lemons into lemonade is my specialty. My teachers were the glue that kept me together. I was never allowed to speak about the loss of my mother and fear and intimidation can brainwash a young child for a very long time. Miss Campbell in 3rd grade taught me creative writing. We had a school wide writing prompt every Monday. However, the prompt was: write about the saddest thing that has ever happened to you. I stared at my paper for a long time. Miss Campbell sat next to me and noticed the hole I had erased into my paper. “Can you think of anything sad honey?” She had this perfect breath that was a blend of coffee, cigarettes and jolly ranchers. I loved the way she smelled. “Well, my Mom died when I was 3, that was pretty sad.” She fumbled for words took me to the hall, gave me a hug and said it’s okay. if you want to write you can, if you want to talk, you can, if you want to think that’s okay too, but promise me you will take this journal and keep it at home to write down your feelings whenever you need to. That was writing from the beginning for me. Thank you Miss Campbell, I loved you cigarettes and all. It was a comforting smell I looked forward to everyday, but most of all I loved the powder blue journal that had a little gold key and blank pages without lines (my favorite).
Kyddryn: I love your voice. I want to sit in the grass with a tall glass of lemonade and chat until the lightening bugs start to flicker. Your Evil Genius is blooming all over the place with all the fertilizer you have given him. I am sorry for the emotional tornadoes and hurricanes your soul has endured. Let’s continue to rototill our gardens until we have acres of sunflowers raising their heads high to the sky to honor all that is good in our life and bow to the stars as we rest our heads in the peace and solace of a mother and father’s unconditional love and acceptance and bask in the pure, innocent, undaunted souls of our children. You are the prettiest flower in the garden. We are not afraid to work. Bloom on Beauty!
Barbara: Thank you for visiting. What an honor. Writer Dad has spoken so much about you that you are a household name. Mia is trying to keep track of all the people we work with online. We are considering making a tree map so she can keep all the players in mind and understand how everyone’s words come together to think in a new direction and dawn a new day with an authentic voice. She is a writer too. Always prepared with a blank tablet and a “just in case box” filled with writing tools. I am thrilled you subscribed and I look forward to sharing more.
Cindy - Did you say I’m like a celebrity? Can I use that as a quote for my press kit which I will print just to show my wife how awesome I am. It’s about time that she started treating me like the celebrity I am! Celebrities do NOT change poopie diapers!
Thank you for the kind words, I appreciate them.
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“However, in spite of the visible wounds, the emotional impoverishment killed the most.”
I completely agree. The physical scars heal, but the emotional wounds continue to bleed for a lifetime.
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