Vacation reflection...
I've just concluded a much needed trip up to Montana to celebrate the 4th of July with my family. My sister and her gang drove up from the East Bay and made several Americana stops en route to our rendezvous in Helena for the 4th. Summer, good spirits, happy children, friendly locals and fireworks. I just loved the sparklers. They're SO GAY!
I took some cute pics while there, mostly of family or nonsense things like clouds. None of my fireworks shots were worth a shit.
Got to visit with my aunt and cousin whom I haven't seen or talked with since my uncle died 11 years ago. A whole lot of life happened and it was wonderful to reconnect with them. The visit was just too dang short which was acknowledged by my aunt as we left after about a 90 minute stay. I'm so glad I got to see them... I think it was more important to me than other family members. :)
This trip was so great because I had a number of things I wanted to do while there and got to do just about all of them. One important item was having a long overdue adult conversation with my Dad. And also to swim, spend time with my sister and her gang, visit Deer Lodge, smell the sweet night air that can't be duplicated and just be. Be there in the beauty that Montana simply is. What a refreshing and well spent time.
One really cool thing that happened. We had meals together, mostly at my Dad's home. It seems odd that this is even mentionable but it was quite impressive the time spent preparing or cleaning up, together, just had a purposeful feel.
Deer Lodge. "This ain't nothin' but a heartbreak town..." I borrowed a line from the Dixie Chicks, one of my fave groups. They hit the nail on the head with this song when I saw my old home town. Luckily it was just a few hours of a day trip tour to show my sister's kids where we started our lives. We also had lunch at the A&W. Even spent about 45 minutes sitting on the couch in the home of our former neighbors, who have been there 40 years in the same home next to our old house. It was incredible seeing them, sweet ole farts, whose daughter has been a life long friend of ours. They were glad to have the unexpected company. We really hadn't planned to barge in but Betty was out getting the mail so I couldn't resist saying hello. She insisted we come in for a visit. It seems to me our visit was just meant to be. Likely the last time I'll ever see them, I doubt I'll be there again anytime soon. After a fun bit of conversation with Skip and Betty we piled back into the van and drove around some more. Past the courthouse where our Mom had worked, our old school, the church our parents married in, passed the house on 2nd street where I remember the date 7.7.77 being spent one summer, the old prison and a fun little stop at the Rock Creek Cattle Co ranch where we'd also spent a summer in 75. Time hasn't been kind to the old prison town. Full sized ads were painted on sides of buildings warning of the dangers of meth abuse. What a heart break town it is today.
It was in 1974 too. I cherish that I came from there, it was all I knew when we transplanted to Boston that Spring. And I always-always treasured the chance to go back.
The summer of 77 was the beginning of growing up. I realized I could be a shit to my step-mother Dee for no good reason other than she wasn't my real mother. I really put her through hell that summer and the meaner I was the meaner she was. It's really not like me to be mean either. Dad tried to intervene once or twice with his own brand of mean but it really didn't change things much that year outside of making things worse. My grandparents paid a visit from Mullen (Idaho). Dee always got nervous around them since it often meant a big drunk. Big drunk. And they didn't disappoint her. My Dad joined them and before long Dee left. There was 7 dollars left in the bank account and Dad was vomiting blood on the carpet, too sick to do much of anything. There my sister and I were, 2 kids dealing with an adult world not really knowing what to do. After the money ran out and Dad was essentially forced to sober up my uncle came over to take him to the VA hospital in Helena. Dee returned, quite pissed at the world.
In a recent discussion with my counselor I noted that 30 years had come and gone since 7.7.77. It had its redeeming moments but it was a tough summer. One of Dad's 'get in line' discussions with me was I suppose his brand of tough love. I was on the verge of being sent back to Boston early because of my behavior with Dee. Dad decided to use the tactic of turning the attention to me by pointing out how fat I was (like I didn't already know). So fat I had breasts which he pinched. I died inside, sitting there at the kitchen table listening for understanding that never came. So I sucked it up, behaved better and the notion of me being sent back to Boston was forgotten by the time the big drunk occurred.
In this recent vacation trip it was important to me to help my Dad understand the healing that needed to take place from our past together. He's a very different man today. Hardworking, honorable, caring, sober. It makes it hard to be upset with the person he is today. But in order to get beyond the damage from the drinking years I needed to address some of the painful past. And our discussion was largely beneficial. Dad took enormous amounts of responsibility for his role in the dysfunction of the years before. He's tried many times actually to apologize to me and my sister for these deeds. I was too scared of him to say anything but "it's okay Dad" back then. Now, I needed to hear it differently and present some of my own hurt to examine. It was a good beginning to having a better relationship with him. A good man who'd made mistakes. Who can fault you when we all make 'em? So, while I had hoped to feel more resolved after our talk I still feel like there's more. We made progress and it was a significant step forward. More work remains to be done.
That important, heavy discussion being had the rest of the stay was fun. I discovered that leaving to go home while still wanting to stay is the best way to conclude a trip away. If I'd stayed until I was ready to go home the feeling of the trip is different to me.
We even played Canasta for the first time in forever. Got my butt kicked in the worst way but it was a slice of harmony sitting at the kitchen table playing cards again after all this time.
I took some cute pics while there, mostly of family or nonsense things like clouds. None of my fireworks shots were worth a shit.
Got to visit with my aunt and cousin whom I haven't seen or talked with since my uncle died 11 years ago. A whole lot of life happened and it was wonderful to reconnect with them. The visit was just too dang short which was acknowledged by my aunt as we left after about a 90 minute stay. I'm so glad I got to see them... I think it was more important to me than other family members. :)
This trip was so great because I had a number of things I wanted to do while there and got to do just about all of them. One important item was having a long overdue adult conversation with my Dad. And also to swim, spend time with my sister and her gang, visit Deer Lodge, smell the sweet night air that can't be duplicated and just be. Be there in the beauty that Montana simply is. What a refreshing and well spent time.
One really cool thing that happened. We had meals together, mostly at my Dad's home. It seems odd that this is even mentionable but it was quite impressive the time spent preparing or cleaning up, together, just had a purposeful feel.
Deer Lodge. "This ain't nothin' but a heartbreak town..." I borrowed a line from the Dixie Chicks, one of my fave groups. They hit the nail on the head with this song when I saw my old home town. Luckily it was just a few hours of a day trip tour to show my sister's kids where we started our lives. We also had lunch at the A&W. Even spent about 45 minutes sitting on the couch in the home of our former neighbors, who have been there 40 years in the same home next to our old house. It was incredible seeing them, sweet ole farts, whose daughter has been a life long friend of ours. They were glad to have the unexpected company. We really hadn't planned to barge in but Betty was out getting the mail so I couldn't resist saying hello. She insisted we come in for a visit. It seems to me our visit was just meant to be. Likely the last time I'll ever see them, I doubt I'll be there again anytime soon. After a fun bit of conversation with Skip and Betty we piled back into the van and drove around some more. Past the courthouse where our Mom had worked, our old school, the church our parents married in, passed the house on 2nd street where I remember the date 7.7.77 being spent one summer, the old prison and a fun little stop at the Rock Creek Cattle Co ranch where we'd also spent a summer in 75. Time hasn't been kind to the old prison town. Full sized ads were painted on sides of buildings warning of the dangers of meth abuse. What a heart break town it is today.
It was in 1974 too. I cherish that I came from there, it was all I knew when we transplanted to Boston that Spring. And I always-always treasured the chance to go back.
The summer of 77 was the beginning of growing up. I realized I could be a shit to my step-mother Dee for no good reason other than she wasn't my real mother. I really put her through hell that summer and the meaner I was the meaner she was. It's really not like me to be mean either. Dad tried to intervene once or twice with his own brand of mean but it really didn't change things much that year outside of making things worse. My grandparents paid a visit from Mullen (Idaho). Dee always got nervous around them since it often meant a big drunk. Big drunk. And they didn't disappoint her. My Dad joined them and before long Dee left. There was 7 dollars left in the bank account and Dad was vomiting blood on the carpet, too sick to do much of anything. There my sister and I were, 2 kids dealing with an adult world not really knowing what to do. After the money ran out and Dad was essentially forced to sober up my uncle came over to take him to the VA hospital in Helena. Dee returned, quite pissed at the world.
In a recent discussion with my counselor I noted that 30 years had come and gone since 7.7.77. It had its redeeming moments but it was a tough summer. One of Dad's 'get in line' discussions with me was I suppose his brand of tough love. I was on the verge of being sent back to Boston early because of my behavior with Dee. Dad decided to use the tactic of turning the attention to me by pointing out how fat I was (like I didn't already know). So fat I had breasts which he pinched. I died inside, sitting there at the kitchen table listening for understanding that never came. So I sucked it up, behaved better and the notion of me being sent back to Boston was forgotten by the time the big drunk occurred.
In this recent vacation trip it was important to me to help my Dad understand the healing that needed to take place from our past together. He's a very different man today. Hardworking, honorable, caring, sober. It makes it hard to be upset with the person he is today. But in order to get beyond the damage from the drinking years I needed to address some of the painful past. And our discussion was largely beneficial. Dad took enormous amounts of responsibility for his role in the dysfunction of the years before. He's tried many times actually to apologize to me and my sister for these deeds. I was too scared of him to say anything but "it's okay Dad" back then. Now, I needed to hear it differently and present some of my own hurt to examine. It was a good beginning to having a better relationship with him. A good man who'd made mistakes. Who can fault you when we all make 'em? So, while I had hoped to feel more resolved after our talk I still feel like there's more. We made progress and it was a significant step forward. More work remains to be done.
That important, heavy discussion being had the rest of the stay was fun. I discovered that leaving to go home while still wanting to stay is the best way to conclude a trip away. If I'd stayed until I was ready to go home the feeling of the trip is different to me.
We even played Canasta for the first time in forever. Got my butt kicked in the worst way but it was a slice of harmony sitting at the kitchen table playing cards again after all this time.