Mother's Day, 2013

Star Date 11-22... oops, wrong era. We're still just plain Earth. Damn- no real trekking yet (except in the mind, where you can go a lot farther than you might think).

This is my very first BLOG Entry. Ever! And I'm excited... and apprehensive of yet another responsibiity. However, I think this one is different. For one thing, as a heretofore erzatz writer, I can at least think of this as real writing. I'm 57 now (as well as yesterday and tomorrow), and my best writing to-date has been in the form of letters. Anything from a business pitch to a parent bitch.

In my family, my letters are actually famous. I didn't say respected, necessarily... and I meant notorious. Some of them have been really long, and some have been threads... multiple letters over many years (Hi Dad!). But, they've all been my best shit, without reservation (which is how they were written: without any withholding- the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the God-damned truth). And they've served multiple purposes. Sometimes it's been survival (help me God I'm totally lost)... sometimes seeking help (usually in the form of cold hard cash)... and sometimes trying to explain some of the most interesting (and scary) experiences any human could stand (more on that later...).

When my mom used to get mad at someone (especially my brother John), she (and he) would say that, "he's in the Doghouse now". Whatever that meant in real language (or in real history), in our family it meant, "good luck with mom". Meaning, if she's still pissed off, don't call or come by. But, then again, you had to do something to break the chill. That woman had a cold shoulder with a mind of its own. An apology usually did the trick- especially if it was accompanied with a sincere warmth and respect. Which sometimes was simply an impossibility to call forth. Mom was a stickler for the qualities of character, but unfortunately she was also capable of borderline psychosis- or something near enough to hurt like the dickens. A lasting welt in a tender spot was not unknown in the Gazecki/Menzoian household.

But she was complicated, too. Pretty, smart, moody... and easily hurt, embarrassed, and irritated. She had what I call "pretty girl syndrome". Too pretty for her own good, and not skilled or rich enough to fend for herself. Not an unfamiliar position for a good-looking women to be in, and especially routine in her day (Born: 1929; Died: 2005). One thing I have learned as a man is that pretty women have issues and struggles some men cannot even conceive of, or are incapable of recognizing- let alone having compassion for- due to their own self-absorption. One thing my mom did not like was other people's self-absorption. She had enough of her own, and was not prone to easily sharing that spotlight. Which in itself was most assuredly tied to her relationship with her identical twin, Ann.

My mom had moxie. Although in many ways an "old fashioned girl", she was by nature a liberated woman.  There was certainly no one that was going to tell her what to do, in any way, shape or form. And yet she wanted nothing more than a strong-willed man of character and integrity. She did very few things (if anything) with a selfish attitude. She put her kids first, almost all the time. And if by chance she did something like wash our mouths out with soap (which did happen once or twice- using a bar of soap), it was usually done with a eye towards building character. One thing my mom did not want was to have her children grow up to be alcoholics like the family she came from. Not on her watch. We were going to grow and improve even if it  killed us!