drlindamurraytenacity-blog

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

Tenacity

Deserts at the Restaurant---My father was always strict at the dinner table, but the expectation for our behaviour increased significantly when we went out to a restaurant to eat. We would get told about how we were to behave in the car just prior to going into the restrain and we were informed of the penalties for breaking the rules. If we misbehaved in a restaurant we would be sent out to sit in the car until everyone else was finished their dinner. There was no doubt in out minds that we would be sent to the car to wait and we would not get fed later when we got home. In fact, you were sure you would have to go straight to bed when you got home. Our behaviour in public was a huge issue all of the time but especially when we were in a restaurant. When we were out at the lake on weekends we often got dressed up and went to the Pinewood Lodge near where we entered the highway from Rice Lake Road. We would get cleaned up, put on dress clothes, take a boat ride from the island, drive up the gravel road, and drive to the restaurant. We would have reservations for dinner and we were always on time. We would have our dinner and if we behaved with no warnings we might get desert. This time the restrain owner delivered all of us kids desert without my father ordering desert. The owner said that our deserts were on the house because we were so well behaved. Wow, not only did we not get in trouble for our behaviour but the owner had given us all free deserts. It was nice to hear something good about our behaviour from anyone instead of something negative. I have never forgotten that positive attention goes a lot further than domineering negative supervision. It is funny, when I think back on this moment, I can remember where we were sitting in the restrain and where at the table I was sitting. Unfortunately the old Pinewood Restaurant burned down and was rebuilt. But it never looked the same or had the same ambience as the old place.

Fruit at Night----At night before going to bed we were allowed a piece of fruit as a treat. But this did not always happen. Many situations could happen that would deprive us of this treat. If we did not eat all our dinner we did not get desert and if we didn’t get our desert we could also guarantee that we would not be allowed our fruit at bedtime. If we had misbehaved for any reason during the day - no fruit. If we were being punished for something - no fruit. It is interesting that these severe food control behaviours of our father and stepmonster are actually related to possible weight difficulties later in life also possible diagnoses of anorexia.

The Scar-----When we were kids my parents only allowed 2 types of pets in the house a dog of their choosing and tropical fish that we could chose. So I kept tropical fish in my bedroom where I bred certain characteristics in guppies. I also spent a lot of time training the dogs especially Lucky, a black lab. When I was old enough to babysit I was allowed out with the dog. She trained easily and would behave especially well for me, especially when my parents were not around. She would not behave for either of them especially on a leash. She would pull them along. For me she walked at heel and without a leash and did lots of other tricks as well. One of the tricks I had taught her was to jump into the air with all four paws off the ground and I would catch her two front paws when she was on her way down. One day I made a mistake and didn't catch one of her front paws. Down she came and her paw and one of her claws came down hard on the inside of my left thigh. There was a huge 3 inch long gouge. Now both the dog and I would be in trouble and it wasn't Lucky's fault. So I couldn't let my parents see the wound. I cleaned it up without using first aid supplied because that would be noticed. I covered it with paper towel and masking tape and wore long pants for a month until it cleared up. I knew it needed a few stitches but that wasn't going to happen. The last time I was hurt when the farm dog bit my face I got blamed and accused of attention getting behaviour. So I said nothing. They never found out and the jagged scar remains.

Swimming on Sundays---When I was 13 I  was allowed to go swimming by myself at he University of Manitoba. We had access to the university facilities because dad was working in Plant Sciences so as family we were given free passes. I had taken swimming lessons when I was nine or ten but I failed my beginners class because I refused to 'bob' in the water. I don't know why I could not do this but it had something about my inability to coordinate breathing. I was devastated that something like this would fail me. I loved being in the water and I did everything else well. I stopped taking classes since continuing to balk at ‘bobbing’ was going to fail me every time. And my father was not going to pay for a class I was going to fail. So I was on my own in the pool and stuck in the shallow end until I taught myself to swim. It didn't take me long. I watched and learned. I was not a great swimmer style wise but I could do my two laps to get myself into the deep end of the pool. I was forced to do the front crawl to prove I could swim well enough for the deep end and I did a version of it without my head in the water. Once again since I was having trouble coordination my breathing. Now that I no longer needed supervision and was old enough to go to the pool on family swim sundays without a parent. I was off. I swam almost every Sunday afternoon, from twelve too four or five. I would walk home dead on my feet but this was my private time where I did not have to deal with anything at home. There were days I would swim 100 laps. I would collapse when I got home, I would be so tired, but I would also be stoned on the rush from the exercise. I now know that this was probably a serotonin spike, the feel good neurotransmitter. Thank God! I had the pool. I still go and swim whenever my health allows.

Lucky?----One day when I was baby sitting for a neighbour. The one thing I loved the most was taken from me. We went through a number of labs when I was growing up. They invariably were killed in traffic accidents. Someone wouldn't be watching and they would get out into traffic. It was devastation every time we lost a friend, it seemed especially devastating for me. Finally, I decided to train the next lab we got. We called her Lucky and I spent a lot of time training her including road training. I spent hundreds of training hours with her, on and off leash. Her luck didn't last though. Our neighbours boy was playing with her in our back yard. He was throwing a small ball against the ground. Lucky would jump up into the air to catch the ball. Apparently the ball got stuck in her throat. He didn't get help for her. When the Shirley realized what was happening it was too late for her. The ball came out after she died. She choked to death. I have blamed myself for not being there when she needed me. There are times though that I am glad I was not home. I would have been helpless on top of devastated. I had learned about loss very early in life but this loss was devastating for me. I had lost a friend I spent a lot of solitary time with her.

Do as I Tell You Not As I Do-----Many adults, I have found, can be very hypocritical when dealing with children. My father was no exception. He came from the school of “children were to be seen not heard.” we often encountered situations when we would repeat a behaviour that he displayed. We often got told that we were wrong for doing whatever it was. Don’t get me wrong, I believe there are things adults can do that children should not. But, hearing your father tell you “do as I tell you not as I do” over and over again is useless. I wanted reasons that I could not copy my father’s behaviour. Especially when it came to smoking and swearing! If you can give me a reason why not, I was OK but I did not like the double standard. The whole concept of treating children as if they were lesser beings just did not seem right to me. But that was the school he and she came from.

Report Cards----In our ‘home’, report cards from school were really important. As soon as you were given one at school you had to turn it in at home. And my father would evaluate our performance, often at the dinner table after supper. I almost never had anything negative from my father when he would evaluate my marks and comments. My comments were always positive even if I was struggling. I was trying as hard as I could. He would even write back asking for more homework where I was struggling and they would work on it at home. I did not ever feel I let him down with my report cards. He would say that a poor mark when attached to a lot of effort was acceptable. But a poor mark associated with a ‘could do better’ was a huge problem. The boys were not as fortunate as I was. I liked school and learning. Hell, I was out of the house for hours and could stay in my room with homework as long as I wanted. School and school work were escapes from constant examination, and often subtle abuse by stepmonster. My father and stepmonster would help with our home work. The boys had an entirely different experience. Kevin was doomed before he started already being called the ‘lying four eyed piddler’ and ‘lazy’. Kevin struggled with everything and Desmond could not give a shit. So Desmond usually got shit when his report said “he could do better if he tried harder.”  Im certain that Desy and I were both as intelligent but Kevin did not seem to have the best aptitude.

Linda's Marks----The situation with report cards came to a head for me. I was tired of dad using my marks to punish Desmond. It made Desy hate me even more. An I did not want it to get any worse than it already was. I did not know if I could take any more beatings from Desy. I still had symptoms of a concussion from him slamming my head on the basement floor. I finally spoke up at the table and told my father not to compare us because it was not fair. And if he continued to do so I would bring home a report card with all “Fs”! It worked. He finally stopped the comparisons. He knew I would follow through and deliver all “Fs”. I wish I had been able to keep all of my report cards. I was not a clearly gifted student. I worked my ass off though. When I look back it is a miracle that I did above average given our life situations. When I did get an “A” I would get a 5$ bill and if I got mentioned for having a high average I could also be reinforced with money. At least my father was allowed to reinforce me for academic achievement. Its interesting that I would be significantly reinforced by high marks.

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Tenacity

The Peace Maker Game----If you have not figured it out yet, life was hell in our house when we were growing up. My brothers Kevin and Desmond suffered the most at the hands of my father. I really only suffered from the wrath from the stepmonster and Desmond. I discovered early that I had to play the 'peacemaker role'. If I got out of line my father paid and if he got out of line I paid. The boys couldn't win on either front. Somehow us kids didn’t even function as a unit. We were all on our own. It was like we had been set against each other by the contingencies of the situation in the house. It was like ‘divide and concore.’ After the big blowup with stepmonster when I was 13, I learned how to kissed her ass time after time so my father would not pay. I did her housework and bought her roses. I was learning the art of manipulation and I had a great teacher. I even took her side if she was arguing with the boys. Since we had already been set up to be at odds with each other. This was the situation especially if she was in a fight with Desy. If I didn't, I knew I would be sent back to Scotland to live with my grandmother which would leave my little brother Kevin on his own. The last big fight between her and I she slapped my face and told me to “wipe that look off my face” or she would wipe it off for me!. My dad wanted to know if going back to Scotland could be a solution. I told him that ‘that was a great idea, lets run away from the problem instead of solving it’. Even at 13 I knew that this was not the best way to deal with problems, which today I find interesting when I look back on the situation. But my father almost always went for the easy solution, or easy way out. But even at thirteen I knew that is not necessarily the best approach to problem resolution. Given the contingencies, I got the message loud and clear. If I was sent away, I could not look out for Kevin. He would be left all alone. I knew my father would not hesitate and send me to my grandmother’s. that would have been his easy way out. I have since become to consider my father a coward. He could not deal with conflict of any kind and he would always take the easiest way our, at all times. So I stayed and kissed ass. I peace kept. I hated life at home but Kevin needed someone to protect him and love him. Even as a teenager I knew I was still responsible for my ‘birthday present’.

Desy's Hooked Ear-----When we were out at the cabin we did a lot of fishing. I think that I loved it the most of us all. One day I was fishing off the neighbours dock which we did all of the time. Sometimes I would just practice casting. On one of these occasions, Desy walked up behind me without any warning. I was in the process of casting a heavy lure. He walked right into my back swing and the lure caught his right ear. As I tried to send the lure forward it got lodged firmly in his ear lobe, he screamed. We went up to the cabin and the two ‘nurses’, Sheila and stepmonster tried to pull out the hook. Desy was screaming and I was getting shit for hooking his ear and being careless. In reality it was Desmond’s fault. He would have not walked up behind someone who was casting without abounding his presence. At the cabin the  nurses took over while at the same time blaming me for the whole thing the entire time they are working on Desy’s ear. They were trying to take the hook out the way it went in. I tried, repeatedly, to tell them that they could not get it out that way. I tried to explain that there was a barb on the hook which would dig it in deeper if they kept pulling. They of course, being nurses, knew better than I did so they kept trying to get it out the way it went into his ear. I repeatedly told them that they had to push it though to the other side or break the barb. Barbs on hooks were legal at the time, they are not anymore. After an hour or more of Desy screaming dad drove all of us over to the mainland and to the hospital in Kenora. In the ER, after freezing Desys ear, the doctor took the hook, cut of the long part of the hook and pushed the sharp end through his ear to the other side. The hook came out the other way immediately. The doctor did exactly as I suggested they should do in the first case. When I told them ‘that is what I told you to do in the first place’. She called me ‘Little Miss Know It All.’ This was the first time I remember her calling me this but it was far from the last time.

Get the Dictionary-----As kids I think we were less lazy than many; however, we often heard ourselves asking ‘how do you spell this word’. I don’t know why we even asked. You would think that after the first two or three times of the same response you would have thought that we would have it figured out. We never got the answer to the spelling question. Each time we asked we got the same answer “get the dictionary”. My father told us that when he was a boy he used to read the dictionary because he had nothing else to read and he was on his own a lot. None of us could figure out how we were to find a word if we could not spell it? My father would not help us, he said that we would have to figure it out by reading the dictionary using trial and error. So we learned how to use the dictionary, slowly at first, it took forever if you did not have a clue how to spell the word. But we all eventually learned to find most of the words we had questions about spelling. Some words that did not sound out phonetically were exceedingly hard. Today you just look it up in spell checker. But oddly enough, I have a thing for the great big expensive hard copy of a really good dictionary. This book is so big I can hardly lift it but I still use it in a final spell checking of whatever I write.

The Cleaning Lady---At one point, we had a cleaning lady hired to help with the house work. What a joke. She must have loved coming to our house to clean because we had to clean before she got there. We had a classic ‘sitting room’ in the house where syepmonster would receive guests off of the front door. It was always perfect with little velvet chairs and shiny tables and no TV. We were not really allowed to use this space and we were never to eat in this room. If we wanted a living room we had to use the basement recreation room where the TV was kept. It was important to the stepmonster that our house always looked perfect. It had to be perfect all of the time. We all had chores we did, not a bad thing, but cleaning before the cleaning lady comes was moronic. Even then the ‘cleaning lady’ did not do a good job as far as we were concerned with the little that was left to clean up. We would do all of the cleaning and then when it was done she would come along and straightened a few things up. Desy and I were not happy we were doing the majority of work but she was getting paid for it. We told our father that he should pay us more pocket money for doing the cleaning instead of paying someone else to do next to nothing. He finally agreed but we never got the same increase in spending money that they payed the cleaning lady. Having us clean before the cleaning person comes was really stupid, especially since stepmonster wouldn’t even let a cleaning person see our house imperfect. She was always only interested in what everyone else thought of her and her ‘home.’

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Tenacity

Desmond in The Drink----The summer we built the first cottage at the lake was very busy. Since the cabin was on an island it meant that everything had to be ferried to the building cite. All we had was the sailboat with a trolling motor of about 15 hp and a larger aluminiurn boat with a 40-50 hp motor. There were numerous trips back and forth with everything from cement pads to plywood. The plywood was the most difficult to get to the cite. So we figured out that we could lay about 6-8 sheets on top of the cadet sail boat and we could lie on top to keep the sheets on the boat with out weight and we controlled the motor with our feet. This was not a fast job and it took forever. Desmond hated doing it he had better things to do with Tom. But we all had to do it. One day when Desy was making his final trip for the day my father bussed him with the bigger boat. I am sure he was only thinking of giving him a little wake to deal with. But this was not what happened. The wake was huge, possibly because the motorboat was empty. The wake hit Desy and slid all of the plywood off the surface of the sailboat and Desy went with the load right into the drink. Was he ever pissed at my dad. And he was entitled to be. He had to stay by the wood in the water while dad tried to get each piece of plywood back on the sailboat. I was killing myself laughing, not at Desy but at my father's stupid behaviour. We laughed about this for years.

“Falsey”----When I was in grade five, along with my period I started to grow breasts. It must have started in the summer and in the fall it was noticeable to the boys. One day I came into home room wearing a pair of yellow pants and a yellow and white striped shirt. I guess they did not realize that this could happen so fast so they were teasing me about wearing fake breasts. They called me FALSY all year. I was used to the change, but they obviously were not. The nickname lasted about a year and then all the girls had them. So I did not stand out so much. It was weird though I also seemed to grow almost six inches that year so I was also taller then the boys in the class.

The Rock Bass----When we spent summers at the lake I loved to be by myself. I would sit on the dock for hours with my feet dangling in the water. One of these days a fish actually nibbled my feet. I must have been sitting quite still for the fish to have done that. I was curious if the fish would do the same with my hand. So I layed for a long time with only my hand in the water. The fish did it again. Over the summer my relationship with this small rock bass grew. He lived in the crib under the dock. I would bring him worms and he would eat out of my hand. It even got to the point that he would let him pick him up out of the water. My parents didn't think that this was true so one day I took the fish out of the water to show my baby brother Kenneth. This rock bass lived under the dock for a few years and then he was gone. But looking back, what an act of faith this fish made letting me pick it out of the water. This was an incredible experience for me.

Almost Drowned-----We all spent a lot of time swimming at the cabin. We usually swam over by Tom's cabin since the sand conditions were much better. Tom's dad didn't mind us using his dock. We spent hours in the water. We also practised canoeing and all sorts of other things. One day we were playing with the canoe and we were turning it upside down to work on rolling it over and getting back into it when it had been tipped. We also were practising getting up under the overturned canoe and breathing. On one of these occasion, while I was under the bow of the canoe Desmond decided to jump on the rolled canoe on the end that I was under. I couldn't get out from under the pressure of him pushing down on the canoe. I was starting to panic but I finally managed to get out. I was so angry with him. After I managed to get some air I started swearing at him loud enough for my parents could hear. I was the one who got shit for swearing. He could have drowned me but I got into trouble for swearing in a panic.

The Rules-----When I think back to all of the rules that were hammered into our heads I realize that this was often how children were treated in the era. But thinking back they were hammered into us with an exceptionally demoralizing vigor.  Think about it, saying “Do as I tell you not as I do”. In my opinion what you are telling the child is that they had to follow rules that adults could ignore. I’m not so sure that this was a good lesson to teach children. That adults were above the rules?  When you say this it also makes children want to grow up too fast so they can behave like adults. It also made me afraid that I would be punished for telling my dad I had been molested when I was nine. Then there was the “Children are to be seen and not heard”. As a little person, you are telling them that they have no right to speak up and voice their feelings. Then there is “don’t speak until you are spoken to”. That they are some substandard second class citizens. That they are some substandard second class citizens. This leaves little people feeling as they have no rights and that adults could do whatever they wanted. Making us prime targets for abuse. Some of the rules made sense and I had no problem with the “fifteen minute rule.” you would have to phone if you would be more than fifteen minutes  late. Each time we were more than fifteen  late without a justifying explanation you would be grounded for a day for every fifteen minutes. It made sense to me that it was important for everyones safety to know where people are at all times. If plans changed we were required to leave a note explaining out change in timing or where we were. Unfortunately, my parents decided to ignore this rule with me once. At one point in time, I was required to be at home at a particular time to care for my baby brother Kenneth. When I got home at the directed time, no one was home. I started to get worried. There was no note explaining a change of plans or where I could find neither Kenneth nor the adults involved. I was worried something had gone seriously wrong! When they finally came home I was pissed off and gave them shit. I also explained that I was worried and that I expected the rules to apply to everyone. I told them when they tell me to be somewhere to take care of Kenneth that I expected to know where they were also. I was so upset about worrying where my little brother was that they actually got it. In the future they would leave a note next time they changed plans. I took my responsibilities seriously and they should remember this.

Religion in Our House---Religion in our house was pretty interesting. When my father was a boy he was raised Catholic. In fact he had it rammed down his throat. So as soon as he got old enough he rebelled and decided religion was not for him. Stepmonster was United and she believed in going to church. My father told her she could go and us kids could go if we wanted to. So off to Sunday School we went. The condition was that if we decided that we did not want to go that would be the end of it. I had already read my bible , the one that my grandmother had given to me the day I left Scotland. I had read it twice through by the time I was twelve. We also had my, on my mothers side, her grandmother who had become a Jehovah Witness. Whenever she was over things were very interesting. Dad said other than a grace with our meals we did not discuss religion at the dinner table. So right after dinner my father and she would sit down at the opposite ends of the table and she would bring her fist down and say ‘there is only one true religion’ and my father and she would argue her approach against his. This was always funny to watch. I have to admit. There were a lot of things my father did wrong but his approach to Religion and us kids was great. In fact, stepmonster was trying to get me to go to Sunday School one day, and I did not want to go this week. I told her I didn’t want to go that day and that it was boring. But she was pushing me to go. My father overheard the discussion and ‘put his foot down’ he reminded her that as soon as we voiced not wanting to attend that we did not have to attend Sunday School. He reminded her that the religion we chose was out business and our decision was not to be interfered with. I never went to Sunday School again. I have grown to believe that I an more Jewish in my belief system than I was Christian. In fact, much later after much research, I found out that I am actually what used to be called Christianos [early Jews that followed the teachings of Jesus Christ and followed him around] . I never force religion on anyone and I usually worship in my gardens on Sundays! You don’t have to go to church to behave like a Christian!

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Tenacity

Monkey Speedways----When I was old enough to be left in charge of my younger brothers we used to go to a forested area that was close to home it is now called King’s Park. There were bike trails where we would race each other through the paths. We added a little extra to the experience. We would shoot at each other with pump action air guns. I was a very good shot. If you got hit you would get a pretty bad welt. Desy and Kevin got the worst of it though. I did say that I was a good shot. We were very careful to make sure we were careful to shoot below the head and we were very careful that our parents didn't find out. We had the gun for basement target shooting and we practised a lot. We hung around with a crew of boys in the neighbourhood and for once I felt like one of the boys. I loved it. For two summers I hung around with this group of boys and I did all of the crazy things they would do. My brother Desy hated that I was included in the fun and games but I didn't care. I was finally accepted. I am not sure why this was such a big deal with me. I did have a bit of a crush on one of the 15 year old boys named Charley but I never said anything about it. These two summers, until I was 15 were magical for me and I experienced a kind of freedom.

Looking At Lake Property- ---Somewhere during grade six my father was going to buy some lake property to build a cabin on. Awesome. It was mid April and he had to get a look at the property before he bought it. Unfortunately it was on an island. This meant getting over frozen lake. Two miles of it. Stepmonster did not want us to go, especially us kids. Concern? Or Pay Cheque? My father overruled and Desy and I were going with him and a friend of his. He said that if they fell in that the kids could get away and get help, So off we went. We drove the car as far as we could get it up this uncleared gravel road in the Whiteshell to Deception Lake. We had to hike two miles just to get to the lake, and the snow was about four feet deep, then we would have to walk to the island. We were outfitted with a rope that dad and his friend were attached to. We were tied last just incase and I carried a great big ore incase someone fell in. Dad and his friend hit the lake ice with a great big pole to make sure that the ice was OK to walk on. We trudged along in the slush from the top of the melting ice and this took forever. I was scared because the ice was melted on the top and I was scared we would fall in if the ice broke. We did this for hours until my father found the island and the lot markings. Then we did the whole thing over again. By the time that we got back to the landing we were exhausted but we still had the hike back to the car. I was never so tired and cold in my life and I was ecstatic to find the car. Dad drove us to the Pinewood Restaurant and ordered hot coco, and he called home to report we were safe and on our way home as soon as we warmed up. So this was the beginning of the cabin and the lake.

Clearing Land and Shandies- - - -After purchasing the land on the island in Deception Lake the hard work started. The land needed to be cleared and all of the building products need to be brought to the island. I loved this whole process. We would work like dogs clearing bush and helping my father. I loved it, Desy hated it and Kevin wasn't old enough to be of much help. And stepmonster was pregnant. My father taught us how to use a bow saw and an ax. We were not allowed to use the big ax but we could use the hatchet. Once again I was in my element and allowed to get attention from my father because I was being such a big help I guess. We layed the cement pads and made sure things were level, we then built the frame for the cabin. Then the walls in sections. Once the walls were sheathed we started on the roof and shingles. This whole process took almost the entire summer in which time we lived in a large tent. My father would also give us alcohol in the form of a Shandy. A Shandy was a glass of ginger ale and beer. He said it was good for us if we were working in the heat. His whole attitude with alcohol and us kids was to allow us small quantities when adults were present. This also included a small amount of wine at the dinner table. This was a very European approach in which we would learn how to correctly consume alcohol on a controlled basis. By the time we were old enough to drink in a bar the idea was you would have the right attitude and would then handle our own alcohol consumption at an acceptable level. I have to say that this was one thing that my father did right as far as I’m concerned.

Master Angler’s Perch-----After my father bought some land on an island on Deception Late I met the neighbours who lived on the next plot of land to ours. One day these  neighbours took us fishing. He taught us how to bait the hook, cast, and trawl for fish. He explained the type of fish to us and told us which fish to catch and how to catch them. This was a fantastic day for me. I was very interested and finally I caught a fish. A perch. When we returned to his dock with our catch he explained that the large fish I had caught was a Perch. However, the father called it a Master Angler's Perch and he put it in the fish keeper for the next day. I don't remember him telling me anything else about it. He took the smaller fish and showed us how to kill and clean the fish. Desy thought it was gross but that didn't bother me. He showed me how to fillet the fish and said that you should fry them in a little butter. The next morning I got up early and went down to the fish keeper in the water off the dock and I pulled my fish out with the net. I proceeded to kill and fillet my fish. I ate the perch for breakfast. Wow did this ever taste fantastic. My very first fish and it tasted nothing like the stuff we were given as kids to eat. That stuff was processed crap. After breakfast the neighbour came looking for me to help me get my Master Angler's Award. I didn't have a clue. He said that we needed to take the fish in to the city for verification. I was confused. I told him that I had eaten my fish for breakfast and that it was fantastic. He couldn't stop laughing at me and explained the whole process to me. Next time I caught a perch that weighed over 3 pounds that I should take it and get it weighted and verified before I ate it.

Catching Suckers with Tom-----Our neighbour had a son named Tom. He was almost the same age I was so Desy and Tom and I hung around together. Tom had been coming to the cabin for a number of years and showed us around. One adventure after another. We explored everywhere. My father took the mast of the cadet sail boat and mounted a small outboard motor. We were allowed to use it all the time. This time with Tommy was some of my happier life moments. On one of these occasions Tom taught Desy and I how to catch what he called suckers. These were fish about the size of a large rainbow trout but they had a suction cup type of mouth. They were not the swiftest fish in the water. He taught us how to lull the fish in the stream by rubbing it sides. It seemed to go asleep. And we could then pick them right out of the water. Wow. I had never experienced something like that. I was good at it too. I found it easy to be patient and focussed on the fish and putting it into a trance with the gentle massage.

Sheila and Canasta----On many evenings at the lake we played a game of cards called Canasta. I loved playing this game and I was good enough when I was 13-14 to whip any ones but. Us kids, especially Desy and I played for whole weekends let alone a few hours we would play games up to 100,000 points instead of the normal 5,000 points. Neither stepmonster nor Sheila could play well enough to match us kids and they were bitches about it. The game in question had been in process for about an hour and there was a huge pile of cards in the discard pile. Sheila was trying to figure out what card to lay down so that I would not be able to go out. I told her that it didn't make a difference given all of the cards in the pile and the ones in my hand. I asked if "It really looked like I could go out?" She finally discarded a card and after stepmonster and someone else played, I picked up the deck of almost thirty cards. I had been counting cards in the pile and I knew that I could use everyone of them and go out. And she had just given me the ideal card for all of this. Out I went, and she was pissed and she called me a "little bitch". Great, just because I played my best as I had been taught by my father, I was a little bitch. What a poor sport and lousy example to set for children. I have a problem with poor sports today. I wont play with them period.

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

Tenacity

The Wet Putting Green-----One day a whole group of us went riding our bikes. The University of Manitoba was very close by and was within our allowed riding range. Near the university there was a private golf course. At the time the course was not fenced it. It is now. On this day we stopped our bikes and put them out of sight. There was a putting green close to a clump of trees very close to University Crescent and it was so tempting. It had just been watered and it was a very warm day. We took off our shoes and socks and walked on the putting green. I have never felt grass so soft, lush, and green. The recent watering made the grass feel so cool on our hot feet. This was like a magical moment for me.I have since learned that in the field of Psychology that this would be labeled as a ‘Peak Experience’. I still love the feeling of wet grass under my bare feet.

Mr. Kroecker -----When I entered grade 7 we had to go to a brand new combined  junior/senior high school. The thing is that there was only one new school for both junior and senior high students. The school principal's name was Mr. Kroecker[sp]. What an amazing little man. He was about five feet tall and very light in build. He had a very soft voice and a gentle way about him. I was to learn so much from him and he was one of my greatest supports while I went through my junior and senior years. He would start off every year by visiting every incoming class of students. He would ask us to stand up and give him our names and the names of older and younger siblings. By the end of the year he knew every student's name and family member’s names. It is interesting that this small man had a huge presence in the school. He would wander around as much as he could and he would always be wearing a plaid jacket made from the school tartan. He would wander into classes as much as possible and he would take students out into the hallway if he wanted to talk to you. This approach would not be as scary for students as being sent to the principal's office. Often the talk was positive not negative. It became clear that he was aware that things were not great for us at home and he went out of his way to make both Desmond and I feel at home at school. This was a theme that carried on the experience I had the first two years at school. More on him later. I realize now that I loved this man. What kind of love Im not sure but I felt great in his presence and I knew he would do anything to help me out. It made me feel loved.

Piano Only----I was about 13 or 14 when my interest in music really began to developed. The school I went to had a fantastic band program. I wanted to get into the band. I wanted to play either percussion or trumpet. I had gone to the band information session and picked up the trumpet and was able to get a clear note. Not an easy thing to do if you have not played one before. When I went home I asked about the trumpet and joining the band. I knew what their response was going to be. No! Joining the band was too expensive. I was also not going to play the trumpet. What was so frustrating is that the lessons would cost nothing, the trumpet could be rented at a low price, and there were ways to fund raise. I was told if I wanted to learn music then I could take piano lessons and use the piano in the house. No more discussion. They did not seem to realize that it would probably cost more for private piano lessons. This whole thing did not make any sense. But my father told me that he did not want his daughter playing a trumpet, that trumpets were played by men not women. This was weird.  Why was it  OK I learned to build a cabin and a boat, and clear land but only men played trumpets. I think that this decision was more stepmonster’s feminisation plan than anything else. And looking back this is the only reason that this made sense.

Ping Pong---After my father and us kids finished the basement of our house on Silverstone Street he built a ping pong table. I loved playing ping pong. I don't remember much about playing with my brothers but I do remember playing with my father. He would play hard enough to allow me a chance to win on occasions but when I became good at it he started playing hard. These games were great fun. I would win about half of the time and the games were always close. I have to admit that he was a good looser when I did beat him. He also hatted poor sports.

The Toilet Seat----As I have mentioned previously I didn't rebel often when I was young. But I did lie about something and didn't get caught. Its funny, I almost always told the truth even if it would get me into trouble. I did keep information from my parents about Desy and Kevin when I was babysitting but other than that I was pretty honest. One day I was using nail polish remover to take of a coat of nail polish of my nails, I had tried polish to see if it would help me stop biting my nails. One day I was using  nail polish remover on bathroom tissue to remove the polish and when I was finished I threw it into the toilet and closed the lid. Oppps. The tissue got caught between the lid and the seat and damaged the seat. So I removed the paper and flushed the mess. This time I decided that I was not going to tell the truth. I wanted to see if I could get away with it. I was tired of being accused of doing things that I had not done so I thought I should do something with which I could be accused of that I actually did. Dad lined us up in a row like always and start to grill us. According to my father, it is one thing to do something wrong but much worse to lie about it. That became ‘direct disobedience.’ When my father lined the three of us up to grill us about the damage on the seat, I lied. All of us said that we were innocent of the crime and I did not own up to it and neither did the boys. For once I lied straight to my father's face. It felt good. He said, once again ‘Mr. Nobody’ did it.  He got blamed when my father could not pin it on a particular culprit.  Desy was always ragging on me for being a little goody goody. He didn't have a clue. If my dad had started in on Kevin I would have come clean and told him to say sorry to Kevin. That would have been worth it no matter what the punishment. He didn't and I never told the truth, till now.

Girl Guides-----When I was about 11 or 12 I was pushed to join the “Girl Guides”. Stepmonster wanted me be more of a girl, instead of a ‘tom boy’. I tried but I just didn’t get it. It did not last for long though my brothers were allowed to be Boy Scouts, including going to camp. I was having trouble fitting in with the Guides. Primarily, I could do just about anything that they got badges for and I couldn’t see the point of the whole process. Then I got an application for the Girl Guide Camp. I was hopping I could go, I could escape for a while. But it was not to be and I knew it before I even got home. I knew that when they saw how much it was going to cost to send me to camp they would said I couldn’t go. I was right again. The boys could go camping with the scouts, and it was cheap, but for me it was going to cost hundreds of dollars. They were not about to pay for this and all of the clothes I would be required to take with me. Everything had to be issued by the Girl Guide organization, even underpants. If I wanted to be a boy before I sure wanted to be one now. I hated being a girl. Why could I not go to the Boy Scouts? Everything the boys got to do that I was not allowed to do with the Guides. I wanted to be able to do everything that boys were allowed to do! Stepmonster was willing to pay my dues at the guides but not camp. So I quit and she was not happy. I said that it wasn’t fair that the boys got to go but I wouldn’t get to go camping. I told them if I couldn’t participate I was quitting and I did.

The Mirror----Desmond had a bit of a run in with my father and my dad had sent him to his room. Desy was being a brat in the process and was basically taunting my father. He was about thirteen, I think. My father was sitting in the sittingroom with a clear view of the hallways that our bedrooms came of from. Desy did something else on the way to his room and made my father very angry. My father had the habit of firing his slipper at us when we were being mouthy. So he fired one of his slippers at Desmond. Oppps. The slipper cleanly missed Desy and it continued to the end of the hall. There was a mirror and a fancy table at the end of the hall. And you guessed it the slipper hit the mirror and shattered it into chunks of mirror that rained down on the fancy table that my stepmonster had at the end of the hall for decorative purposes. I had been in my room at the time and my door was right where the mirror shattered. When I opened my door I could see great big chunks mirror impaled on the table. We kids just about killed ourselves laughing. Even my father thought it was funny but didn’t laugh. But stepmonster did not think it was so funny. Her table had been damaged. My father spent a lot of time fixing that table.

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

Tenacity

The Wet Putting Green-----One day a whole group of us went riding our bikes. The University of Manitoba was very close by and was within our allowed riding range. Near the university there was a private golf course. At the time the course was not fenced it. It is now. On this day we stopped our bikes and put them out of sight. There was a putting green close to a clump of trees very close to University Crescent and it was so tempting. It had just been watered and it was a very warm day. We took off our shoes and socks and walked on the putting green. I have never felt grass so soft, lush, and green. The recent watering made the grass feel so cool on our hot feet. This was like a magical moment for me.I have since learned that in the field of Psychology that this would be labeled as a ‘Peak Experience’. I still love the feeling of wet grass under my bare feet.

Mr. Kroecker -----When I entered grade 7 we had to go to a brand new combined  junior/senior high school. The thing is that there was only one new school for both junior and senior high students. The school principal's name was Mr. Kroecker[sp]. What an amazing little man. He was about five feet tall and very light in build. He had a very soft voice and a gentle way about him. I was to learn so much from him and he was one of my greatest supports while I went through my junior and senior years. He would start off every year by visiting every incoming class of students. He would ask us to stand up and give him our names and the names of older and younger siblings. By the end of the year he knew every student's name and family member’s names. It is interesting that this small man had a huge presence in the school. He would wander around as much as he could and he would always be wearing a plaid jacket made from the school tartan. He would wander into classes as much as possible and he would take students out into the hallway if he wanted to talk to you. This approach would not be as scary for students as being sent to the principal's office. Often the talk was positive not negative. It became clear that he was aware that things were not great for us at home and he went out of his way to make both Desmond and I feel at home at school. This was a theme that carried on the experience I had the first two years at school. More on him later. I realize now that I loved this man. What kind of love Im not sure but I felt great in his presence and I knew he would do anything to help me out. It made me feel loved.

Piano Only----I was about 13 or 14 when my interest in music really began to developed. The school I went to had a fantastic band program. I wanted to get into the band. I wanted to play either percussion or trumpet. I had gone to the band information session and picked up the trumpet and was able to get a clear note. Not an easy thing to do if you have not played one before. When I went home I asked about the trumpet and joining the band. I knew what their response was going to be. No! Joining the band was too expensive. I was also not going to play the trumpet. What was so frustrating is that the lessons would cost nothing, the trumpet could be rented at a low price, and there were ways to fund raise. I was told if I wanted to learn music then I could take piano lessons and use the piano in the house. No more discussion. They did not seem to realize that it would probably cost more for private piano lessons. This whole thing did not make any sense. But my father told me that he did not want his daughter playing a trumpet, that trumpets were played by men not women. This was weird.  Why was it  OK I learned to build a cabin and a boat, and clear land but only men played trumpets. I think that this decision was more stepmonster’s feminisation plan than anything else. And looking back this is the only reason that this made sense.

Ping Pong---After my father and us kids finished the basement of our house on Silverstone Street he built a ping pong table. I loved playing ping pong. I don't remember much about playing with my brothers but I do remember playing with my father. He would play hard enough to allow me a chance to win on occasions but when I became good at it he started playing hard. These games were great fun. I would win about half of the time and the games were always close. I have to admit that he was a good looser when I did beat him. He also hatted poor sports.

The Toilet Seat----As I have mentioned previously I didn't rebel often when I was young. But I did lie about something and didn't get caught. Its funny, I almost always told the truth even if it would get me into trouble. I did keep information from my parents about Desy and Kevin when I was babysitting but other than that I was pretty honest. One day I was using nail polish remover to take of a coat of nail polish of my nails, I had tried polish to see if it would help me stop biting my nails. One day I was using  nail polish remover on bathroom tissue to remove the polish and when I was finished I threw it into the toilet and closed the lid. Oppps. The tissue got caught between the lid and the seat and damaged the seat. So I removed the paper and flushed the mess. This time I decided that I was not going to tell the truth. I wanted to see if I could get away with it. I was tired of being accused of doing things that I had not done so I thought I should do something with which I could be accused of that I actually did. Dad lined us up in a row like always and start to grill us. According to my father, it is one thing to do something wrong but much worse to lie about it. That became ‘direct disobedience.’ When my father lined the three of us up to grill us about the damage on the seat, I lied. All of us said that we were innocent of the crime and I did not own up to it and neither did the boys. For once I lied straight to my father's face. It felt good. He said, once again ‘Mr. Nobody’ did it.  He got blamed when my father could not pin it on a particular culprit.  Desy was always ragging on me for being a little goody goody. He didn't have a clue. If my dad had started in on Kevin I would have come clean and told him to say sorry to Kevin. That would have been worth it no matter what the punishment. He didn't and I never told the truth, till now.

Girl Guides-----When I was about 11 or 12 I was pushed to join the “Girl Guides”. Stepmonster wanted me be more of a girl, instead of a ‘tom boy’. I tried but I just didn’t get it. It did not last for long though my brothers were allowed to be Boy Scouts, including going to camp. I was having trouble fitting in with the Guides. Primarily, I could do just about anything that they got badges for and I couldn’t see the point of the whole process. Then I got an application for the Girl Guide Camp. I was hopping I could go, I could escape for a while. But it was not to be and I knew it before I even got home. I knew that when they saw how much it was going to cost to send me to camp they would said I couldn’t go. I was right again. The boys could go camping with the scouts, and it was cheap, but for me it was going to cost hundreds of dollars. They were not about to pay for this and all of the clothes I would be required to take with me. Everything had to be issued by the Girl Guide organization, even underpants. If I wanted to be a boy before I sure wanted to be one now. I hated being a girl. Why could I not go to the Boy Scouts? Everything the boys got to do that I was not allowed to do with the Guides. I wanted to be able to do everything that boys were allowed to do! Stepmonster was willing to pay my dues at the guides but not camp. So I quit and she was not happy. I said that it wasn’t fair that the boys got to go but I wouldn’t get to go camping. I told them if I couldn’t participate I was quitting and I did.

The Mirror----Desmond had a bit of a run in with my father and my dad had sent him to his room. Desy was being a brat in the process and was basically taunting my father. He was about thirteen, I think. My father was sitting in the sittingroom with a clear view of the hallways that our bedrooms came of from. Desy did something else on the way to his room and made my father very angry. My father had the habit of firing his slipper at us when we were being mouthy. So he fired one of his slippers at Desmond. Oppps. The slipper cleanly missed Desy and it continued to the end of the hall. There was a mirror and a fancy table at the end of the hall. And you guessed it the slipper hit the mirror and shattered it into chunks of mirror that rained down on the fancy table that my stepmonster had at the end of the hall for decorative purposes. I had been in my room at the time and my door was right where the mirror shattered. When I opened my door I could see great big chunks mirror impaled on the table. We kids just about killed ourselves laughing. Even my father thought it was funny but didn’t laugh. But stepmonster did not think it was so funny. Her table had been damaged. My father spent a lot of time fixing that table.

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

Tenacity

Francine - - Gran had adopted a little girl years previously she was close to me in age about 12-13 years old. Once again my stepmonster and Sheila talked about this kids behavour and how Grandmother let her do whatever she wanted and had no discipline. At least they did so when Grandmother was not around. Francine was lonely so grandmother thought I could be a great playmate. I spent a lot of time with Francine and often I was allowed to stay with Grandmother often on the farm so Francine had someone to play with. I have great memories of the farm visits and this one became a wonderful experience. The downside of being with Grandmother was that I had to deal with Francine. I took an instant dislike for her she was bossy and liked to be very rough with me and she would blame me for any of the disturbances. I decided that I had just about enough with her rough play and I made a decision to pay her back. She was not going to win this competition. I had to deal with violent behaviour from Desmond at home and I was not having any more of it here. I was sitting in a large armchair across the room from her and she took off at a run at me in the chair. I was tired of her bruising me so I pulled my legs up and caught her on her breast buds. I planted both of my feet firmly on her chest and sprung her across the room. I kicked her so hard that she was out of breath and she instantly cried while she struggled to breath. I called her a little cry baby and told her to never bully me again or I would really hurt her next time regardless of her tattling to Grandmother. I know that she was sore for days since she was moving in a gingerly fashion. I’m sure she had a huge bruise on her breasts. For once she did not go tattling that I hurt her since it was clear I could and would hurt her even worse. Suddenly, her behaviour changed towards me she became friendly and cooperative and we occupied our free time together in a much kinder activities. Don’t Fuck with me little girl!

Wash in Trough  ---- On one of the visits to Grandmother’s farm - it was a really hot day and Francine and I were so hot. There was little relief when you are on a farm and you are a kid. There are no lakes or swimming pools. Grandmother told us to strip down to our underclothes and to get into the trough for watering the horses. Wow, what an experience. The sides of the trough were slimy from the years worth of moss and algae but it was the coldest bath I had ever had. She also told us to drink the water. It was laced with iron ore from the aquifer under the farm and you just pumped the manual pump and you got some of the coldest water I had ever drank. From then on if we needed to cool off we could use the horse trough and we never went without hard water with an irony taste to it.

Cats - - - On another occasion at one of the family farms, the same one as the one I got bit in the face, we were at the farm for killing chickens. I was wandering among all of the out buildings in the fall. Trying to see everything I could. We had been warned to stay away from where the chickens were being slaughtered for obvious reasons. We had also been told to stay away from a certain building that was being used by a farm cat with her kittens. We were told that the cat was a little more than a psycho and would attack if you invaded her domain. The dog that had bitten me on my last visit was occupied with chicken heads so I would not have to worry about him. Just Psyco Kitty! So I set out to explore. I did exactly as I was told and avoided the areas where there could be problems. I no sooner got started and I ran into Psyco Kitty! She came from under a different building and attacked me and bit me on the back of my right leg. I had a dress on with socks up my calf or it would have been a much worse bite. I kicked her off of me and took off for the house. I was bleeding and I could see the blood on my sock. I grabbed some mud and put it on the place where the blood was seeping through my socks where I had been bitten. I got into the house and suffered the cigaret smoke. I did not tell anyone I had been bitten or I would have gotten into shit for disturbing the mother cat. At least with the mud I would only get shit for getting my socks dirty. What kind of idiot dresses a “tomboy” in a dress and white knee high socks when they are going to a farm to slaughter chickens? She always dressed us up when we went out to her relatives who were working on farms. When I think back to it I think she was trying to brag that she was better off than they were. When I got into the house there were a whole group of females preparing chickens for the freezer. I asked if there was something I could do to help inside the house. I was always a helping hand when I was young it was the best way to stay of the “shit list” so I was given a knife and was shown how to cut open a chicken’s  gizzard. This was something to occupy the boring hours I would be spending on this farm at least this time. It is funny when I think back one of my favourite parts of a chicken is the gizzard. She never did get the stains out of the white socks and I am definitely not a cat lover now for some reason today?

'Eggasites' ----Desmond was also a lonely kid with few to no friends. Finally, when he was about 13 he met a boy who lived close to our place and it was an instant friendship. They did everything together. I liked him too and he was always nice to me too. He and Desy had a unique way of saying certain words. For example, eggs were called ‘eggasites��. My brother was almost happy with his new friend. Unfortunately, this friendship did not last for more than a year. His friend had to move out of the province. Desy regressed again and became even angrier and meaner. I often wonder what Desy would be like if he had not lost this one special friend.

Lets See If We Can Keep Her Interested------My report cards were usually fairly good. I was never afraid to show my parents my report card. I was also rewarded for getting 'As'. I was allowed to get my fathers attention for a good report card at least. Reinforcement for academic achievement was allowed by her. On one of these occasions, my report card had a comment about my being a good student who was interested in learning anything. My father, like usual, responded on the report card. Stepmonster never did sign report cards for the three of us. My father responded in writing, "lets see if we can keep her interested". I'm not sure what the teacher thought about his comments, but thinking back on it, I might have been put off with that kind of comment. Well I guess the teachers had an idea that things were not so great at home.

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

Tenacity

“Do you know what real pain is? That hollow ache that gaping hole that comes from senseless tragedy.” . . . Criminal Minds

Doesn't Everyone Feel This Way?----When I was 12, I  remember walking to class from lunch at home. I was feeling very depressed this day although I did not know what to call it. I am not sure why I was feeling like this. I was just walking along and started to cry. All sorts of thoughts were running through my head. Thoughts about being gone so I was not in pain any more. The pain in my head and in my chest. I just wanted to be dead like my mother so I didn't hurt so badly. I was wondering if all kids felt like this. I remember saying to myself that there was no point crying about it and I couldn't afford to let my parents or classmates see me cry like this ever. That would make my life even worse than it was now. I felt isolated, like being on an island all alone with no one to love me. I don't think I would have made it through this year if it had not been for my grade six teacher Mrs. Sisson. It was like she knew how I felt. She always payed attention to me. Thank you Mrs. Sisson!

The Lion, the Witch, & the Wardrobe----In grade 6, I  met two girls that became friends. Neither of them were popular either. Maggie was a preacher’s kid and walked funny because of a hip disorder. Julia was quiet and didn't make friends easily. Maggie got both of us to read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It was a great experience. I learned to escape through reading. We would get together and pretend we were in the plot and we had secret meetings to discuss our exploits. For a while it wasn't so painfully lonely. Interestingly enough, that was the last year that we would be close friends. Maggie had to go for a lot of painful surgery on her hips and Julia and I just drifted apart. The next year, in grade seven, I started to spend a lot of time with a classmate Debbie. Deb and I have maintained this friendship through Christmas cards until I lost track of her.

Waking Up-----In the morning, my father had a brutal way of waking us up to get us ready for school on time. I was usually up as soon as I heard my father's alarm go off. This allowed me to get to the bathroom first before it became busy. I would bounce out of bed with no wake up call. So my father never had to wake me. The boys on the other hand did not bounce out of bed on their own. He would go to their room and bang on the door. Not a nock but a full fledged bang and yelling, he kept going until the boys were out of bed. What a horrible way to wake up. I tried talking to him about it but he ignored me. One day I did not bounce out of bed and he came to my door and bashed it just like he did to the boys. Well, I blasted him and told him never to do that to me. I had a migraine and I told him I wasn't going into school that day and to leave me alone. You need to understand, I would actually go to school if the migraine was mild. School was my out of the home environment time. He never tried waking me up like that again but the boys were woken up that way for as long as they lived in the house. It was a horrible way to be awakened. But I guess he used it because it worked but the boys were not happy morning people.

My Period Starts----I was twelve when my period started. My period seemed to time with the arrival of migraine headaches. About six months earlier the topic was brought up in school. At home I had everything reexplained in very clinical terms. The information I got from the school and a book my parents had me read included a variety of birth control methods. But I was only 12 years old so I didn't need them at the time. My first period was intense. Cramping dizzy puking with the pain. The stepmonster told me that this pain was normal and I would have to tolerate it until I had a baby. Then she said that the pain would diminish greatly. I did  not have any proactive treatment for all of this pain. The pain was bad enough to make me pass out at one of my English exams. It was great to tell the male teacher who was in charge what the problem was all about. This time she picked me up from school and actually gave me something for the pain so I could take my English Exam much later in the day. I found out much later that there were treatment options being used by doctors at the time. Lots of options. I also discovered that my migraine headaches were related to the change in my hormones. All I needed to do was to take the pill which would stabilize the hormones. This would have lessened the pain, migraine, and allow for them to be controlled when I had my periods. But this was not offered to me by my parents. I was allowed to just suffer the pain that was severe enough to make me pass out. It is interesting that when I was in labour with my first child the pain did not even get as intense as some of the menstrual or migraine pain I was used to living through. It is interesting to think about later in life developing a chronic pain condition. I could handle the severe acute pain but the chronic pain devastated me little by little.

Sheila and the Washing Machine----For many years, our aunt Sheila lived with us she was not married and she also smoked like a chimney.  I was about 13 when my Aunt Sheila was living in the house with us. The third chain smoker. We used to have an old style washing machines, the ones with the roller that you put your washed clothes through by hand. I was allowed to use the machine myself and I actually enjoyed the work. Whenever I was helpful I could stay off the shit list and there was some sort of satisfaction seeing item by item being cleaned and pressed by the rollers. I am not sure why this was satisfying for me but it was like the satisfaction I felt when I ironed clothes. Sheila attempted to use the washer. I am not sure why. She managed to get the underside of her arm caught in the roller. Don't ask me how she did it. It took talent. The machine jammed and she could not get her arm out. She was hollering for help and I responded. I had to dismantle the roller component to get the machine to release her arm and she had a horrible bruise. We got her to the hospital and she was treated and released. I don't remember her using the damn machine again.

Uncle Wayne Milking Cats----- My stepmonster’s parents lived on a farm. Her parents were very kind to us kids and there are absolutely nothing they do or did not do to hurt any of us. I still cant figure out how Grandmother and Grandfather Fleming could have raised five kids and have them turn two of them into stepmonsters. Both my stepmonster and her identical twin sister both married widowers with 3 kids each. Shirley and Sheila both turned into stepmonsters. Sheila married a very sweet and kind man Mike and alienated his three children. They were luckier than the three of us were, they managed to have their loving mother much longer than we did. I am sure they were not happy with their version of stepmonster. Not all of the Fleming kids were miserable parents. The oldest two married a farmer and we saw them infrequently. But one of the kids was to be our Uncle Wayne. They had two twin boys and they were raised way differently than us. I can remember when we were out at one of the farms my stepmonster was talking about how badly Uncle Wayne’s and Aunt Lorray’s boys behaved and some of us were sitting right there. I sure hope that his boys did not hear the conversation. Once again stepmonster talked about them behind their backs and smiled to their faces. Oh I wish we had that family to grow up in. They did lots of fun things with their twin boys including trips to Disney. We never did this kind of thing. Their kids did not have to eat like we kids did they could eat whatever they wanted. Their kids were exuberant. Not tightly hanging on by a thread. I know I loved to spend time with Uncle Wayne. I believe he had taken over the family farm from his parents. On one of my visits he took me to milk one of the cows they kept for milk. I was enthralled by the whole experience. Not only did he let me watch but he taught me how to milk her. After I managed to get milk out of the cow he showed me a trick with the cats. The cats had followed us into the barn and they were sitting close by the cow. He had trained the cats to sit in a position on the floor of the barn and he managed to squeeze out the warm milk at their face. Each of the three cats were lined up waiting and meowed each time he fed the other two. He managed to give each cat a long squirt from the cow. His aim was pretty good but they had to clean off their faces themselves.

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

Tenacity

“Bullies and brutes have this common trait, I had learned as a kid----they hesitate when they think they will be in a fair fight, or at a disadvantage”.........Gerald Green text The Holocaust

Bed Wetting----Both Kevin and I had significant bladder control problems at night. I was always gotten up when my father was ready to go to bed and taken to the washroom. I spent most of my youth with a rubber sheet on my bed incase I wet the bed. I don't remember if they did all of this with Kevin or not. But both of us wet our beds till we were in our early teens. I now know that this was partially a bladder problem and partially related to a very early sign of depression in children. This was not common knowledge back then though. I was treated OK when I had an accident. I was found to wake up with wet pajamas but a dry bed. So I guess I used to go to the bathroom but forget to take off my pajamas. I was also found to do crazy things like urinating in the cupboard under the sink in the bathroom or in the tub. I have never figured out why this happened. Kevin on the other hand used to hide his wet bed by making it and putting his wet pajamas under his pillow. When he got caught doing this my father would call him the ‘Lying Four-Eyed Piddler’. I am not sure why he was treated so differently by my father. That kid couldn't win at anything.

Order????

Stoned In The Basement-----During the winter after the sail boat had been completed we had another task given to Desy and I. My father had us clean a set of second hand sails that he had bought for the sail boat. He brought home a bottle with chemicals we were to use to clean the sails. He gave us some rags soaked in the chemicals and we were to scrub the old sail till it came clean. He showed us how it should look then he left us to do the job. It took about half and hour and we were feeling weird. We started laughing for no reason and he finally came down and checked on up he found us stoned. I guess these chemicals are not to be used unless their is a well ventilated area. Opppps. Desy and I were stoned for a few hours. Then we got pucking sick. The headache came later.

First Time Sailing----The maiden flight of the sailboat that my father and I built, 'Athena' was at Star Lake. It was a choppy day and this looked like fun. I was the one in the boat with my father. Desy didn't seem interested. So here was something else only I shared with my Dad. Off we went to sail the boat in bad weather. I got in with my life jacket on and took one look at the water and said that "I was going to kill myself laughing if we tipped". A few minutes later that is exactly what happened. Just a few feet from the end of the dock and with a huge gust of wind over she went. I got trapped under the sail that was full of water and very heavy. My life jacket was keeping me pinned there. Not a nice place to be so off went the jacked and under I went. I worked my way out from the sail and surfaced looking for my dad. I was laughing. He wasn't going to live this one down for a while.

Making Paper Kindling----When we lived in Scotland our home was heated by coal flues. To get the coal started was difficult unless you used a starter of some sort. My father had this ingenious way of starting the coal fire with tightly rolled up paper. He would start rolling a sheet of newspaper from the corner and continue to roll the paper on the diagonal keeping the tension of the paper really tight. Then he would bend the tightly rolled tube into a tight triangle, these rolled triangles would light and burn like kindling, lighting the coal pieces. I wanted to learn how to do this when I was older so I practiced every chance I got. He was proud after when I mastered the skill. I still use this approach to starting fires. I am quite the little pyromaniac now.

Mrs. Sisson----During my grade six year at school I had an exceptional teacher. Her name was Mrs. Sisson. During this year the school was trying something new. They had all of the female students with Mrs. Sisson and all of the boys were placed in an other class with a Mr. Koswin. What a year. We girls could talk about anything in class without worrying about the boys knowing about it. She taught us so much that year and she took an interest in me that I had not encountered since Miss. Grace in grade one. It was like she knew life was and had been hard for me and she went out of her way to make me feel loved and important. We spent lots of time after class while I cleaned backboards and the brushes. She tried to teach the class about manners and she gave us our sex education. She even talked about dating and the pressure to have sex. It was just a special year for me.

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

Tenacity

“Bullies and brutes have this common trait, I had learned as a kid----they hesitate when they think they will be in a fair fight, or at a disadvantage”.........Gerald Green text The Holocaust

Bed Wetting----Both Kevin and I had significant bladder control problems at night. I was always gotten up when my father was ready to go to bed and taken to the washroom. I spent most of my youth with a rubber sheet on my bed incase I wet the bed. I don't remember if they did all of this with Kevin or not. But both of us wet our beds till we were in our early teens. I now know that this was partially a bladder problem and partially related to a very early sign of depression in children. This was not common knowledge back then though. I was treated OK when I had an accident. I was found to wake up with wet pajamas but a dry bed. So I guess I used to go to the bathroom but forget to take off my pajamas. I was also found to do crazy things like urinating in the cupboard under the sink in the bathroom or in the tub. I have never figured out why this happened. Kevin on the other hand used to hide his wet bed by making it and putting his wet pajamas under his pillow. When he got caught doing this my father would call him the ‘Lying Four-Eyed Piddler’. I am not sure why he was treated so differently by my father. That kid couldn't win at anything.

Order????

Stoned In The Basement-----During the winter after the sail boat had been completed we had another task given to Desy and I. My father had us clean a set of second hand sails that he had bought for the sail boat. He brought home a bottle with chemicals we were to use to clean the sails. He gave us some rags soaked in the chemicals and we were to scrub the old sail till it came clean. He showed us how it should look then he left us to do the job. It took about half and hour and we were feeling weird. We started laughing for no reason and he finally came down and checked on up he found us stoned. I guess these chemicals are not to be used unless their is a well ventilated area. Opppps. Desy and I were stoned for a few hours. Then we got pucking sick. The headache came later.

First Time Sailing----The maiden flight of the sailboat that my father and I built, 'Athena' was at Star Lake. It was a choppy day and this looked like fun. I was the one in the boat with my father. Desy didn't seem interested. So here was something else only I shared with my Dad. Off we went to sail the boat in bad weather. I got in with my life jacket on and took one look at the water and said that "I was going to kill myself laughing if we tipped". A few minutes later that is exactly what happened. Just a few feet from the end of the dock and with a huge gust of wind over she went. I got trapped under the sail that was full of water and very heavy. My life jacket was keeping me pinned there. Not a nice place to be so off went the jacked and under I went. I worked my way out from the sail and surfaced looking for my dad. I was laughing. He wasn't going to live this one down for a while.

Making Paper Kindling----When we lived in Scotland our home was heated by coal flues. To get the coal started was difficult unless you used a starter of some sort. My father had this ingenious way of starting the coal fire with tightly rolled up paper. He would start rolling a sheet of newspaper from the corner and continue to roll the paper on the diagonal keeping the tension of the paper really tight. Then he would bend the tightly rolled tube into a tight triangle, these rolled triangles would light and burn like kindling, lighting the coal pieces. I wanted to learn how to do this when I was older so I practiced every chance I got. He was proud after when I mastered the skill. I still use this approach to starting fires. I am quite the little pyromaniac now.

Mrs. Sisson----During my grade six year at school I had an exceptional teacher. Her name was Mrs. Sisson. During this year the school was trying something new. They had all of the female students with Mrs. Sisson and all of the boys were placed in an other class with a Mr. Koswin. What a year. We girls could talk about anything in class without worrying about the boys knowing about it. She taught us so much that year and she took an interest in me that I had not encountered since Miss. Grace in grade one. It was like she knew life was and had been hard for me and she went out of her way to make me feel loved and important. We spent lots of time after class while I cleaned backboards and the brushes. She tried to teach the class about manners and she gave us our sex education. She even talked about dating and the pressure to have sex. It was just a special year for me.

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Tenacity

“When we were children we used to think that when we grew up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability. To be alive is to accept vulnerability.” . . . Criminal Minds episode # 199

Helping Build the Boat----One winter my father decided to build a small sail boat in the basement. He pulled out the plans and this was going to be great fun. Desy did not seem interested in the whole process but I was. For months in the winter I learned to bend and shape wood to have it fit the shape of the boat. This was done with a lot of very hot rags and clamps. I also learned how to sand the wood so it was smooth enough to paint. You know who did not want me down there with my father so I had to be careful I didn't get caught too often. The plan was for a Cadet Sail Boat. In the summer I was going to learn how to sail. This was a huge confidence builder for me.

Scratching Raw----During the summer following the building of the boat, we spent a few weeks at a borrowed cottage at Star Lake. Wow what a great place. Curley and the boys had a cabin across the road from the one we stayed in. This summer held a lot of promise for me. Freedom, I was hoping. Unfortunately, I found out that I was susceptible to mosquitos, horse flies, dear flies, and ‘noseeums’. I was bit from head to toe. I was a ball of itching and I was so bad I was scratching in the night while I was asleep. I would scratch myself till I was bleeding. I would get shit from stepmonster because she could hear me scratching when I slept. Like this was my fault and within my power to control. I was a mass of sores and scabs. Most of you probably are thinking that what was the problem. Give me an antihistamine, calamine lotion, and use bug spray on me. None of these things appeared to be thought about. Keep in mind she was a registered nurse. The only problem was my getting blood on the bedding. When I think about all that could have been done to make me feel better and save me from more bites, I get angry. Bug spray was too expensive. She was a nurse, you would think that she would have taken this situation more seriously. But no. No treatment and no protection. This is probably the first indication that I would have to deal with immune system problems and all by myself. I learned to use perfume or vinegar on the bites. I would make them bleed then put perfume or vinegar on them and they would sting like hell. But, they did not itch any more!

French Kissing-----When I was 11 our family often went to Curley’s family home for celebrations. As I had said before, I loved being in her home. On a few of these occasions we would play games in the basement. I often landed up with her son Garry, who was 15 under a blanket. He would hold me and keep me close and started kissing me. I learned a lot. He never made me do anything I did not want to do. He was always kind and gentle. He started french kissing me and I learned that when you kiss someone you pushed your tongue into the other persons mouth. I loved his attention, he was four years older than I was and I had a huge crush on him. I did not feel like he was too old for me, given my past experience. This did not last for more than a year. At night we were required to kiss stepmonster goodnight. It makes me sick to my stomach even thinking about kissing that ash tray. So one night I slipped my tongue into her mouth. What a reaction I got. She started yelling at me, so I just went to bed. I never saw Gary again until I was 15. I was told he had a bad skiing accident and his arm was damaged, and he was self-conscious about his arm. Now, I realize that it may have been just an excuse to keep us apart. They probably grilled Desmond to find out where I learned to kiss like that. It did not take long before Garry was no longer around on these special occasions. I hope that he did not get treated like a pedofile. There was a four year difference in our ages but he did not do anything wrong as far as I was concerned. In fact, I have great memories about this time together and whenever I hear The Beatles, Come Together. I feel great about the time I spent with him. I was an 11 year old with a fifteen year old boy friend. It is funny though I did not feel like an eleven year old, I wonder why. Since the situation with being molested when I was 9 I did not feel that this was the same kind of situation. He had given me a little picture of him I kept in a small locket. I hid this locket to keep me company while I grew up. I did not feel so alone anymore. The next time I met him I was 15 and he was 19. I am not sure why I was allowed to see him again. I was excited too see him and the first opportunity we had to get away we did. We were kissing between a large rock formation. He started to touch my breasts. I was not ready for this. I pulled his hand away, and said no. He stopped trying to touch my breasts. It was so nice to be held by him again.

Baby Sparrows-----Also, one summer when I was about 11 or 12, I  discovered a nest made by a sparrow. The nest was in the neighbours garage and I never told anyone about it. I could stand inside the garage and get a good look at the parent birds. I set myself up a place to sit and to watch using the stuff in the garage. Then the siting began. I was a very lonely and picked on kid so going without human contact was often preferable to the alternative. I sat for hours watching the parent sparrows. Sometimes I would bring them bird seed and at other times I would bring them soft material for bedding. I don't know why they tolerated me; but, before long I was able to pet them and they behaved ‘normally’ whenever I was there. This is what I was later to learn was called ‘participant observation’. I spent hours in this garage. My little subjects laid their eggs and sat on them till they hatched. I would bring mommy bird extra treats, nuts and worms, when I visited. I watched while the eggs hatched and when the little hatchlings gaped their mouths open for food. Before long I was petting the babies and could pick them up and hold them for some time. I watched them develop feathers and take flight. All three of them made it as far as I could tell. And when they did I, lost my birds. I was alone again. The garage was torn down latter in the summer so I hoped that they found a safe place to mate and raise their little families the next year.

The ‘In Crowd’----When kids grow up they almost always want to be liked by the popular kids, the 'In Crowd'. My brothers and I were never part of this group of kids though. I remember one day walking to school, knowing I was going to get teased for wearing the awful leotards and skirt my step monster made me wear. All of the other kids were wearing jeans and stuff but she forced all of us to wear 'school clothes'. Dressing like this made us all a target for the bullies and even the rest of the kids. I remember thinking about the torment that was too follow and I thought that it was OK that they would never like or accept me. Fuck them! I can see exactly where I was in the back lane on the way to school that day when I made this decision. I was going to be OK! On my own! I would learn later, when I was better  educated that this flash was probably what is called a “peak experience”. But my brothers were not the same. They yearned to be accepted. They were always bullied and picked upon. After the bullying I was subjected to, I tried to help them out. I interfered one day when some bullies were picking on Desmond. I stopped the fight but Desmond was furious. He said that now he would have to deal with them laughing at him being defended by a girl. So I told him that I would not do this ever again and I stood at my word. I never interfered again. The next time there was a gang of kids kicking the hell out of Desmond, I stood by and watched until I figured he was hurt. Then I went to get an adult. Stepmonster came and got Desy. After she took him, I then told the bullies that this was the last time they were going to do this or I was going to kick the shit out of each of them, when they were alone. And I told them I knew where they all lived. I think Desmond had to be taken to the hospital for a broken rib and missed a few days of school. I am not sure if my threat was successful but he never came home again beaten up. I never again saw any of these boys at Desmond again, but I was not always around. Neither of the boys had it easy at school they were teased and bullied well into 8th  or 9th grade. The bullying I was subject to was over for me I was not in the cool kids group but I did not give a fuck so they could never get at me again. I was never bullied again. I don't remember either of them having good friends either. I don't remember Kevin having a single friend and Desmond did not get a friend till he was about 15 and this friend and he got into a lot of trouble. Desmond also had one of my friends Lynne which was good for him. But the more time she spent with him the less time she spent with me. Looking back it pissed me off at the time; but, now I am glad she was his friend, he had so few. I remained a loaner till about 15 also and then got involved with a couple of youth groups that helped me feel like I belonged somewhere.

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Tenacity

Curley's House----- When my father had come to Canada he met a single mother with three kids. She was older than he would want his new wife to be so they were just friends. I am not certain what the connection was but there was significant interaction between her and her older boys and our “family”. This friendship remained even after he got married. Curley was trying to raise her boys on her own and I am sure she struggled financially. But her home was warm. You felt loved when you walked in. I used to love going to her place. Her home, on the other hand, was a bit of a mess. Completely disorganized and cluttered. I didn't care. When I came into her house I got a hug. It was like she knew we needed this loving. The only real hugs we got were from Curley. The only other time there was physical contact was when we had to kiss the parents at night. There were no hugs unless there was a special occasion and others were around to see. The stepmonster would never say anything negative when we were at Curley's place but the comments behind her back were brutal especially if she didn't know that we were listening. I was always sad when I heard these criticisms. I loved Curley and her boys. I would have traded houses in a heartbeat. I swore that when I had my own home that it was going to be a Curley G home not like my parents’ ‘home’.

"She traded the power of love for the love of power”......Touched by an Angel

My Fathers Keeper-----It became clear to me at one point that my stepmonster did not like me. Apparently, I was always after too much attention. Most people would look at needy children as little people who needed a lot of help for whatever reason. Loving people would then go out of their way to give little beings all the attention their little psyches needed. This was not true of stepmonster, she punished attention seeking behaviour especially when I needed my father’s attention. My father and I used to be close and I liked to hang around with him at work or whenever he worked in the basement with building his boats or doing woodwork. She appeared to be jealous of this time with my father. It was also counter to her feminization program. It became clear too me after a while that she would use us against each other. If I got out of line for any reason she would dump on my father and if he got out of line she would make things harder for me. So to make life easier for my father I behaved as much as I possibly could. I started playing the 'peace keeper' and went out of my way to be overly good at least for as long as I could hold out. Even when I became an adult I kept this role for a long time. As my father’s keeper I knew I was expected to stay at home and get a university education. I was told that he would pay for the first year and I would work in the summer and if I did well he would continue to help with tuition and keeping a roof over my head. Kenneth was the only one of his children who was able to take advantage of the educational advantage offered. I would have died if I had tried to cash in on the opportunity. The thought was not clear at the time, I just knew I could not stay there any longer or I would not live long.

My Brothers' Hair----Every few months my father would cut my brothers’ hair. They hated it. It was in the mid sixties and he was shaving all of their hair off. The kids at school were all starting to grow their hair. But not my brothers. This was in part because my father was too cheap to take them for a professional hair cut. But I also think that this was partly a control thing on his part. He had to be in charge and the boys would submit if it killed them or him. The boys took so much abuse/teasing/bullying at school. You wouldn't think that how a kid has his hair cut wouldn't matter. But to the bullies who lived inside and outside the house, it did. I started cutting their hair for them when I was about 14. They figured anything I could do wouldn't be so bad compared to dads cutting it. My father finally let me cut their hair for them. As long as I kept it out of their faces and kind of off their collars. We could work with that. I think that the money was the dominant issue. As long as it didn't cost him. And for once I was doing something for Desmond that he was actually grateful for.

“The past is never dead it is not even past.”......William Falkner

My First Migraine-----When I was in grade five and class was being taught by Mrs. Beavis I had my first experience with a migraine headache. I was 11, I think. The teacher wasn't the best in the world. Keep in mind that we behaved at school because the punishment would be double whatever the teacher or principal handed out would be doubled when we got home. I was in her class one day she when she decided to punish the whole class for the behaviour of a few students. She was punishing the entire class for talking while she was trying to teach. A really criminal offence. This woman did not know how to discipline students appropriately she also was a lousy teacher. In this instance, the punishment was to be meted out to the entire class. I really do not think that this is an appropriate control technique in this type of a situation. We had to put our heads down on the desks for fifteen minutes. Shortly after I put my head on my desk, my head started pounding. And I realized that I could not see well. I put my hand up to get the teacher’s attention. I was getting ready to throw up. She just told me to put my head down and keep it there. I tried again to get her to listen to me and now she was getting angry with me. I kept at it and finally I just puked on the floor. Finally, now she was paying attention. I was taken to the school nurse and my father was phoned from work. He came and got me to take me home. I described what was happening and he told me that this was what is called a migraine headache. He said that he sometimes gets them. He took me home and gave me two 292s and I threw them up. He gave me two more and crackers. This time I managed to keep them down. The pain in my head was intense and actually came close to the emotional pain I was in half the time. The migraine lasted three days. Left side, right side, and around my whole head. He said that I would get more of these, possibly for the rest of my life. Great physical and emotional pain. When I had this pain I prayed for death. So the best option for me overall would be death. I for some reason or another I did not fear dying. I guess when all you have to look forward to constant physical and emotional pain dying was not to be feared. When the migraine was a more mild form I would get up and go to school. I chose school over my bed because it was better than staying home with her.

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Tenacity

Kenneth's Room -----When the baby was born and after it no longer slept in my stepmoster's room he went into the room with my brother Kevin. This arrangement continued until we moved into the 4 bedroom home my father was building just outside the city. My brother Kevin was left sharing with Kenneth for a long time and if you looked at the room you would have no difficulty picking out the space where Kevin lived and the one where Kenneth lived. Kevin would have the old bed, the old bedspread, the hand me down clothes from Desmond. The 'blond haired blue eyed God' however had everything new he could ever want or need.

“you hurt yourself on the outside to kill the pain on the inside".....unknown

Biting My Arm---- Much of my childhood I was either, angry, sad, or faking it. I remember spending a lot of time in my room crying on the bed. I just couldn't deal with all of the emotional pain. I would muffle my cries and screaming in anger with my pillow so no one would hear me. If they heard I would just get into more trouble. I also did discover that if I could hurt myself physically I could somewhat distract myself from crying as badly. I would bite down hard on my forearms until the physical pain was enough to distract me from the emotional pain. At times I broke skin and I would bruise badly. I would have to be careful then that no one saw the damage on my arms so I would wear long sleeve clothing to cover my arms. I would also tear off big strips of skin from the bottom of my feet. These strips were huge and I kept peeling the skin off until I had massive bleeding injuries on both of my feet I would not be able to stop until the pain was so bad I forgot everything that I felt emotionally. Today I now know that this would probably related to 'cutting behaviour' demonstrated by many depressed and angry teens today.

Kevin's Lying---Kevin was being punished for lying again. When I think back I wonder if Kevin’s lying  was negative attention getting behaviour. Because there was little to no positive attention he was getting. On another level thought it was like he wasn't ‘all there’. It is interesting though that I could often tell when Kevin was telling a lie and when he was not. The thing is though that it seemed like he truly did not know what the truth was. I never told my father when Kevin was lying though. I knew that this would just make things worse. He would hang on to the lie as if his life depended upon it and I am not sure why. He would be punished significantly just for lying. Why wouldn't he just come out and tell the truth. I don't understand exactly what Kevin's thinking was. Even if he didn't do it there would be less punishment if he said that he did whatever it was he was accused of. I think back now and worry whether there was some dissociation of some sort happening. The 'lying four eyed piddler' just couldn't win.

“Experience is a brutal teacher. But you learn, by God you learn.”.......C.S. Lewis

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

Tenacity

The Cook----When the stepmonster went into the hospital to have her baby I had been taught how to cook meals for the week or so that she would be in the hospital. I learned to make mince and roast chicken and gravy. I was already the only person in our house who had to peel the potatoes. Almost every night right after school, that was one of my chores. So putting them in a pot with water and turning them on to boil was not such a stretch. Neither was cutting them up into chips and putting them in the deep frier. I don't remember the rest of what I learned to cook but I did it all. At least I was allowed to excel at this and I was more than capable of reading instructions in a recipe book. My stepmonster was in the hospital, so I could get reinforced for doing a good job of this. Later on my father  admitted to me that I also made the best mince he had ever had and that Shirley still could not make it as good as I could. He did manage to sneak in some positive reinforcement, at least for me!

Glass Blowing-----My being interested in science and education thrilled my father and this was something that he was allowed to acknowledge and reinforce me for. I used to go to the lab with him every chance I could. I was full of questions and I loved to watch him glass blow pieces of scientific equipment. He started to teach me how to do it also. I loved these times and I have a lot of good memories from these opportunities. I am not sure how much these times drove me to higher education but I am sure that they must have had some influence. At least when I was in his lab he was free from her influence.

Colicky Baby---When she brought the baby home from the hospital I had a great time with him. I actually had way more experience than her with babies. Funny, isn't it? I was allowed to do this. I guess she needed the break. Kenneth was somewhat of a colicky baby. I knew how to deal with that because Kevin was also not a happy camper either, when he was a baby.  I spent a lot of time with this little guy trying to get him to calm down with significant success. It was great for me to have something I could do better than she could do. Not that she would admit it. I loved this child but I also had some negative feelings for him. I was old enough to know this was wrong and I kept telling myself that it was not his fault to have her as a mother. She protected this child every step of the way from my fathers’ wrath and that annoyed the hell out of me. Why could she not do this for Kevin? All he needed was to be loved by and adult in his life, any adult, and everything could have been different for him.

“Rairly do members of the same family grow up under the same roof” . . . Richard Bach . . .sp

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

Tenacity

The Cook----When the stepmonster went into the hospital to have her baby I had been taught how to cook meals for the week or so that she would be in the hospital. I learned to make mince and roast chicken and gravy. I was already the only person in our house who had to peel the potatoes. Almost every night right after school, that was one of my chores. So putting them in a pot with water and turning them on to boil was not such a stretch. Neither was cutting them up into chips and putting them in the deep frier. I don't remember the rest of what I learned to cook but I did it all. At least I was allowed to excel at this and I was more than capable of reading instructions in a recipe book. My stepmonster was in the hospital, so I could get reinforced for doing a good job of this. Later on my father  admitted to me that I also made the best mince he had ever had and that Shirley still could not make it as good as I could. He did manage to sneak in some positive reinforcement, at least for me!

Glass Blowing-----My being interested in science and education thrilled my father and this was something that he was allowed to acknowledge and reinforce me for. I used to go to the lab with him every chance I could. I was full of questions and I loved to watch him glass blow pieces of scientific equipment. He started to teach me how to do it also. I loved these times and I have a lot of good memories from these opportunities. I am not sure how much these times drove me to higher education but I am sure that they must have had some influence. At least when I was in his lab he was free from her influence.

Colicky Baby---When she brought the baby home from the hospital I had a great time with him. I actually had way more experience than her with babies. Funny, isn't it? I was allowed to do this. I guess she needed the break. Kenneth was somewhat of a colicky baby. I knew how to deal with that because Kevin was also not a happy camper either, when he was a baby.  I spent a lot of time with this little guy trying to get him to calm down with significant success. It was great for me to have something I could do better than she could do. Not that she would admit it. I loved this child but I also had some negative feelings for him. I was old enough to know this was wrong and I kept telling myself that it was not his fault to have her as a mother. She protected this child every step of the way from my fathers’ wrath and that annoyed the hell out of me. Why could she not do this for Kevin? All he needed was to be loved by and adult in his life, any adult, and everything could have been different for him.

“Rairly do members of the same family grow up under the same roof” . . . Richard Bach . . .sp

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

Tenacity

How Would You Like To?-----Stepmonster had a weird way of telling us to do anything she needed done. She would ask me “How would you like to do—? fill in the blank (like to do the ironing). This used to drive me nuts because there was only one acceptable answer- Yes. You see there was no choice since a No, would result in something nasty shortly thereafter. My father could also pay for it later. When I was about fifteen I told her to stop asking me how I would like to do something, and just telling me to do whatever it was. And that I did not appreciate how she was asking a question when it was her way of saying do it and do it now.

She Gets Pregnant----When I turned about 15 my stepmonster became pregnant. Joy oh joy. This could have been a real positive thing if they had made it so. But this made things even harder for Kevin and I. Dessy left home (got kicked out) shortly after she became pregnant. She gave birth to a healthy little boy they called Kenneth Andrew James. He would be later referred to as the 'blond haired blue eyed god' by both Kevin and I. Don't get me wrong I loved this little guy but things got even more brutal for Kevin when he was born.

Jam Rags — the year I turned 14 my babysitting my brothers was not as big of an issue. I am not sure why but I was on my own during the days and I went exploring. I was at the end of Kings Drive where it ended at the University of Manitoba. Right at the end of this road was a large maintenance or storage building. The large door to the building was open and as usual I was curious. So I parked my new bike [another story] and asked a man at the door what went on in the building. He humored  me and told him that they stored all of the supplies the university needed to run. Like office and maintenance supplies. I asked for the guys to show me how everything was done. After a little begging and pleading they finally relented and let me know what happened step by step. They were not really busy, in fact they had a lot of people to do the job and they did not seem to work too hard [my first foray into how unions can kill businesses]. I learned when Purchase Orders were sent first to their shop and then went out to suppliers, which were written for requests from any department in the whole university. Then the goods ordered were sent to this department and the items were checked off and put into their stock. The next step was to collect the items that other places in the university had ordered on their own p.o.s and the goods were packed into a package to be sent to the departments requiring the goods. Then their delivery person took all the packages that needed delivered to the various places in the university. One day I asked if I could fill out some of the orders out of the stores in the building. Funny enough these gruff guys allowed me to do some of their job for them. I had a blast, I was 14 and doing the job for these well paid union workers. I got so good at it that they stopped checking the orders I filled and would just send them on to the department on to the department ordering the goods. One day, having a bit of fun with me sent me to get a box of ‘jam rags’. I had no clue what they were talking about. They were having a laugh in their coffee break and finally told me that a jam rag was a feminine hygiene product. Then I was laughing with them. It is funny when you think about it. I had been introduced to slang that these elder men would have used earlier in their lives. This was the only summer I was able to do this. The next summer I had a job with Junior Achievement selling cleaning cloths door to door.

Desmond’s Fight------When Desmond turned 14-15, he finally found a friend. The problem with the friend was he was getting Desmond into trouble. He got him to sneak out of the house at night. I had heard him talking about stealing his friends father’s car and using drugs and alcohol.  I told my father because his behaviour was dangerous. When my father heard that he was sneaking out he put a silent alarm on the door that Desmond was using to sneak in and out. The alarm went off in my fathers room. I knew about it but Desmond did not know. Almost anything would set Desmond’s off. He went straight to balistic, angry, very angry. He was violent with everyone. One day he was raging on stepmonster and got physical. I could not let him hurt her, I knew she was pregnant. So I got in the way and got my head bashed into the wall on the way. I got a severe headache and I was seeing Allan at the time. We were coming at 12 A.M. we used a playing card to bypass the alarm. Allan was not happy that Desmond had hurt me. Often Allan stayed over in the basement because unless he walked home there were no busses running in Fort Richmond after the midnight bus. Desmond chose this night to sneak out. When my dad called him on his behaviour at the breakfast table. He went nuts and punched my dad in the face. Then the fight started. I remember dad saying that if he was going to punch him in the face, something only a man can do, that he was going to teach him what would happen to him if he were a man. He would treat him like a man and hit him back with a fist. Desmond got a beating right in the kitchen. When my father finished kicking him all the way to his bedroom he was told to stay in his room. And if he chose to leave the house again he could turn in his house key and don’t come back. Desmond left shortly after and disappeared until he was 19. He was 15. I know now why Desy acted the way he did, anger in teenage kids is often due to some forms of depression. But we did not know that at the time.

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

How Would You Like To?-----Stepmonster had a weird way of telling us to do anything she needed done. She would ask me “How would you like to do—? fill in the blank (like to do the ironing). This used to drive me nuts because there was only one acceptable answer- Yes. You see there was no choice since a No, would result in something nasty shortly thereafter. My father could also pay for it later. When I was about fifteen I told her to stop asking me how I would like to do something, and just telling me to do whatever it was. And that I did not appreciate how she was asking a question when it was her way of saying do it and do it now.

She Gets Pregnant----When I turned about 15 my stepmonster became pregnant. Joy oh joy. This could have been a real positive thing if they had made it so. But this made things even harder for Kevin and I. Dessy left home (got kicked out) shortly after she became pregnant. She gave birth to a healthy little boy they called Kenneth Andrew James. He would be later referred to as the 'blond haired blue eyed god' by both Kevin and I. Don't get me wrong I loved this little guy but things got even more brutal for Kevin when he was born.

Jam Rags — the year I turned 14 my babysitting my brothers was not as big of an issue. I am not sure why but I was on my own during the days and I went exploring. I was at the end of Kings Drive where it ended at the University of Manitoba. Right at the end of this road was a large maintenance or storage building. The large door to the building was open and as usual I was curious. So I parked my new bike [another story] and asked a man at the door what went on in the building. He humored  me and told him that they stored all of the supplies the university needed to run. Like office and maintenance supplies. I asked for the guys to show me how everything was done. After a little begging and pleading they finally relented and let me know what happened step by step. They were not really busy, in fact they had a lot of people to do the job and they did not seem to work too hard [my first foray into how unions can kill businesses]. I learned when Purchase Orders were sent first to their shop and then went out to suppliers, which were written for requests from any department in the whole university. Then the goods ordered were sent to this department and the items were checked off and put into their stock. The next step was to collect the items that other places in the university had ordered on their own p.o.s and the goods were packed into a package to be sent to the departments requiring the goods. Then their delivery person took all the packages that needed delivered to the various places in the university. One day I asked if I could fill out some of the orders out of the stores in the building. Funny enough these gruff guys allowed me to do some of their job for them. I had a blast, I was 14 and doing the job for these well paid union workers. I got so good at it that they stopped checking the orders I filled and would just send them on to the department on to the department ordering the goods. One day, having a bit of fun with me sent me to get a box of ‘jam rags’. I had no clue what they were talking about. They were having a laugh in their coffee break and finally told me that a jam rag was a feminine hygiene product. Then I was laughing with them. It is funny when you think about it. I had been introduced to slang that these elder men would have used earlier in their lives. This was the only summer I was able to do this. The next summer I had a job with Junior Achievement selling cleaning cloths door to door.

Desmond’s Fight------When Desmond turned 14-15, he finally found a friend. The problem with the friend was he was getting Desmond into trouble. He got him to sneak out of the house at night. I had heard him talking about stealing his friends father’s car and using drugs and alcohol.  I told my father because his behaviour was dangerous. When my father heard that he was sneaking out he put a silent alarm on the door that Desmond was using to sneak in and out. The alarm went off in my fathers room. I knew about it but Desmond did not know. Almost anything would set Desmond’s off. He went straight to balistic, angry, very angry. He was violent with everyone. One day he was raging on stepmonster and got physical. I could not let him hurt her, I knew she was pregnant. So I got in the way and got my head bashed into the wall on the way. I got a severe headache and I was seeing Allan at the time. We were coming at 12 A.M. we used a playing card to bypass the alarm. Allan was not happy that Desmond had hurt me. Often Allan stayed over in the basement because unless he walked home there were no busses running in Fort Richmond after the midnight bus. Desmond chose this night to sneak out. When my dad called him on his behaviour at the breakfast table. He went nuts and punched my dad in the face. Then the fight started. I remember dad saying that if he was going to punch him in the face, something only a man can do, that he was going to teach him what would happen to him if he were a man. He would treat him like a man and hit him back with a fist. Desmond got a beating right in the kitchen. When my father finished kicking him all the way to his bedroom he was told to stay in his room. And if he chose to leave the house again he could turn in his house key and don’t come back. Desmond left shortly after and disappeared until he was 19. He was 15. I know now why Desy acted the way he did, anger in teenage kids is often due to some forms of depression. But we did not know that at the time.