SENIOR MOTHER

          My walked briskly down the sidewalk to Hotchkiss High school and opened the front door.  The halls were empty. We were late. The opening assembly for the beginning of school had already begun in the gym.

          “Gloria, wait up!”

          I waited as Mom caught up to me; her arms were filled with her new school supplies.  My thirty-five year old Mother was returning to school as a senior.

          We entered the full gym and sat on a front bleacher.  I was sure every eye was turned our way.

          After the assembly I hurried in the direction of my first class leaving Mom to find her own way to her class.

           “Gloria, was that your mother with you in the gym?” Alice asked

as we walked down the hall.

          “Yes, she is going to be a senior and get her high school diploma.”

          “What does it feel like having your mother at school with you?” my fellow student asked with a chuckle in her tone.

          “I better not say.”

          Mom did great at school.  She made straight A’s.  We had seniors at our house studying and she was the center of attention.

          I couldn’t compete with her.  I became more of a socialite.  Unfortunately, Mom had access to all my teachers who told her I would make better grades if I wasn’t such a social butterfly.
                               ***********************************

          Deryl’s construction job was keeping him away during the week. Mom, Bronco and I were in the country in that big farmhouse.  My imagination was still bothering me every night.  I began sleeping downstairs instead of alone upstairs in my room.  Mom never admitted it, but I thought she was having some fears also.

          I was popular with the 10^th grade girls this year.  Diane talked to me about the way they had treated me the year before and she and I became close friends.  Diane was a Hotchkiss.  Her family had founded the town of Hotchkiss.  Her parents had been killed and her Aunt and Uncle were raising her.

          A new girl came into school her name was Beverly.  She was living with her grandparents.  She never did confide why she had left her Mom and Dad.

We became good friends and one day I confided to her the fear I was struggling with.  I felt better just talking about it.

          One Sunday afternoon we were discussing UFO’s and if they were real.  “I have an idea let’s look in the Bible,” I suggested.

          I opened my white Bible and laid it on the bed. Beverly and I sat cross-legged on my bedspread.  We didn’t know where to start, so we began with Revelations.  Both of us were limited in our knowledge but we were fascinated by the angels and beasts we read about.

Comment...I found it interesting that we were interested in the Bible...and that we chose Revelations to try to understand....Gloria

http://footprintslife.blogspot.com/2013/06/philipsburg_10.html The beginning of the story... 

FEAR

STRUGGLE WITH FEAR

          “That’s the right date!”  Joanne shouted as she threw her arms up.  The rectangle hit me square on the chin.  I rubbed my bruise not realizing this game was more dangerous then I could ever imagine.  Ouija Boards seemed to be the craze this summer.  Aunt Ruby had one and now my friend had the game at her house.

          I was staying in Albuquerque for a whole week with Aunt Ruby and her family.  One of Dave’s friends had his driver’s license so we were going to a drive in movie that evening. It was good to be with Dave and my friends again. I had really missed Albuquerque.

          “The fly” screamed in a squeaky voice, “Help me, help me.”  Everyone else in the car was laughing at the horror flick parading across the large out door screen, but my heart was pounding and I was really fearful.   After the movie I joked about it like everyone else, but when I opened the door at Aunt Ruby’s I felt uneasy.  Everyone else was already in bed. Ruby had made up the couch for me to sleep on.  I turned off the light and scenes of the movie began to play in my mind.  I felt like something was standing over me.  I bounded from the couch into Aunt Ruby and Uncle Bernard’s room.  When I told her that something was over me Aunt Ruby assured me it was only my imagination. We left Uncle Bernard looking perplexed at being awakened out of a sound sleep and entered the living room. 

    “See Honey, there isn’t anything here,” My Aunt said kindly. “I’ll leave a night light on in the kitchen.”

 I felt foolish, but what ever I had felt had seemed so real.  Ruby returned to bed.  I lay on the couch struggling to keep the fearful thoughts from my mind.

          It was a struggle that lasted for over a year.  I dreaded the dark and going to bed because my imagination was taken captive by fear.  I told Mom

I was scared but she didn’t know what to say or do.  I knew it upset her.

          Years later, after I was born again, I realized how the Ouija Board had coincided with the fear. ("My people perish for lack of knowledge" Hosea 4:6).

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NEW CONFIDENCE

          “Try outs for the ninth grade play will be held today.  If you are interested in a part, see me in the gym.” Mr. Mahoney said.

          The announcement intrigued me.  Later in the day, I made my way to the gym.

          “Miss Williams, why don’t you try out for the part of Miss Spinster?”

          I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

          “That is a cameo part Miss Williams and I’m confident you could put a lot into the character.”

*************************************************************

          The curtain rose on the “Jury was Hung” to a packed audience of Hotchkiss students and parents.

          As “Miss Spinster” I flirted with the foreman of the jury throughout the production.  Finally my finale scene arrived and I threw caution to the wind playing it to the hilt.  My swept up hair bun swayed as I flew across the stage in hot pursuit of the foreman (alias George Wilson). Throwing my arms around him I planted a loud kiss on his made-up cheek. “Oh Mr. Wren, you are just toooo cute for words!” I squealed.

          The audience roared and I loved every minute of it.

          “I have never laughed so hard in all my life,” Agnes said after the play.

“You were terrific,” complimented Diana.

          The click of ninth grade girls surrounded me and gave me approval of my performance.
                                                          ***********

       The all school picnic was held on the last Friday of the school year. When the coach called for participants in the pie-eating contest I decided to give it a try.  The contestants were lined up behind a wooden table, covered with large napkins and told to keep their hands behind their backs.  My pie was crème, which was fine with me.

“Get set! Start eating!

My face hit the crème filling.  It was hard to keep my hands behind my back and only eat with my mouth.

The onlookers cheered from the sidelines.  My face tried to cover the whole pie and swallow without chewing.  Finally the coach blew his whistle.  One of the boys at the end of the table had finished his pie. I looked at the other pie eaters and we broke into laughter.  All faces were covered with cherry or crème pie filling.

I ran to the outdoor water spicket and began washing the sticky crème from my face, eyebrows and hair.  The group of ninth grade girls joined me.

“We were rooting for you Gloria,” Agnes laughed.

“Well, as you can see...I tried,” I laughed back, as I took my fingers and worked some glued crème off my eyebrows.

“Come on Gloria, let’s get a hot dog and a coke,” Diana invited with a bright smile.

The circle of girls opened and I walked along joining in their chatter and giggles.  I would never think of this group of girls as a “click” again, for no longer would I be an outsider.  They became my friends. The walls had come down.  I belonged.

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Hotchkiss Colorado....the girls who became my friends....taken at the High School

         

         

RETURNING TO SCHOOL WITHOUT CHUCK

       It was strange to board the school bus without Chuck.  I was glad I wouldn’t be home when his mother arrived to pick him up.  The principal, after talking to Chuck, advised Deryl and mom to return him to his mother.  He felt that in all probability, Chuck would continue to get into trouble.  Chuck was sorry he had been caught, but he was not sorry for what he had done.  There was no repentance. If he had continued to live with us we would probably have encountered more of the same.

           

           The halls of the high school were busy as students walked to morning class.

          “Hey Gloria, where’s Chuck?” asked one of the ninth grade boys.

          “He’s returning to Albuquerque to live with his mother.”

          “Live with his mother?  What’s the deal?  I thought he was your brother.”

          “No, he was a just a boy who got into trouble and we were trying to help him,” I didn’t care if everyone knew the truth.  In fact my whole attitude was different.  I didn’t care if I was accepted at this school or not!  I even quit tagging after the click of girls.

          (We never saw Chuck again.  His mother wrote Mom a letter the following year asking us to take Chuck back.  He was in trouble again and was facing a term in Springer Reform School.)

       Barb quit writing to me and the following summer, when I was visiting Albuquerque, I called her.  She hung up on me.  She believed the lies Chuck had told her. So much for friendship.

        We had given up Childers Drive. Now, I was stuck in Hotchkiss.

CHARMER UNVEILED

          Chuck was excited when he came home from school.

          “Wanda, someone broke into a locker today.  A pen knife, watch and money were taken,” he took a quick breath and continued, “It’s a really big deal at school.  The principal searched the lockers and talked to all the guys.” I hadn’t heard anything about the incident at school.  Chuck talked of nothing else at the supper table that evening.

          The following day I was standing in front of the mirror combing my hair in the girl’s bathroom.

          “Well, when are you due Gloria?”

          I turned towards the senior girl grooming her short, blond hair. “Due with what?” I asked.

          “Your brother Chuck has been spreading all over school that he thinks his sister is pregnant,” She answered slyly watching for my reaction.  She wasn’t disappointed: I was speechless!  I didn’t see Chuck between classes.  I was going to confront him after school but he wasn’t on the bus.  Then I remembered he was going home with a friend.

          I related to Mom what the senior girl had told me.  I waited for her to assure me that Chuck wouldn’t say anything like that about me, but instead I couldn’t believe my ears...

          “I wouldn’t be surprised if Chuck did say it,” Mom replied, “I’ve read some of his letters to Barb and he has been telling a lot of lies.”

             Barb’s letters to me had become far and few between and the ones I did receive were short and cold.  I had overlooked it but now the pieces began to fit together.

          “Chuck has done more than lie,” Mom continued. “I spent most of the afternoon at the school.  Remember the pen knife, watch and money Chuck told us were stolen from a locker?”

          I shook my head in the affirmative.

          “Well, I was putting some clean undershirts in his drawer this morning and I found those exact articles.  I returned them to the school.  The principal wants us to confront Chuck before he talks to him tomorrow.”

          For the second time that day I was speechless!

          I moved my food around the plate at the supper table.  I had no appetite and I dreaded what I knew was coming.  Everyone, but Chuck, was quieter than usual.  If he felt the tension he didn’t let on.  Even though I knew what he had done, I still felt loyal to Chuck.

          “Chuck,” Mom began when we had finished eating, “I found some things in your dresser drawer.”

          “What things?” he asked innocently.

          “A pen knife, watch and some money.”

          “That is my knife and watch.  I bought them.”

          “I took them to the school and they were identified as the pen knife and watch stolen from the locker,” Mom confronted.

          I searched Chuck’s face.  There was no way to discern what he was feeling.

          “I also know,” Mom continued, “that you have been writing lies about our family in your letters to Albuquerque.”

          Chucks facial expression never flinched, but there was a slight redness in his color.  I waited for him to deny the charges, but he remained silent.

          I fought back tears when Mom said, “Chuck, we took you into our home because we wanted to help you.  We wanted you to be part of our family.  Is this the way you treat family?”

          Chuck silently looked down at the table.

*****                    *****                    ****

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ENEMY RESURFACED

          I was on my third reading of Dave’s letters, when the smell of supper drifted upstairs into my room.  Something familiar seemed to be missing for that time of day.  It didn’t fully dawn on me, until I glanced out the window, overlooking the vacant driveway.  Deryl wasn’t home from work yet.

          I changed my school clothes and put on rolled up jeans and an oversized shirt.   I entered the kitchen. I took one look at Mom and I knew the potatoes weren’t the only ones stewing.

          “Is Deryl working late?” I asked innocently.

          “Not that I know of,” she answered through tight lips.

          “Maybe he had trouble with his pickup,” Chuck interjected from a kitchen chair.

          Mom, her brows knitted into a frown, didn’t answer as she turned the stove knob to low and walked to the open window.

          Supper simmered, the clock ticked away, tension built and we waited.

             Finally, the white vehicle raced onto the gravel driveway, and came to an abrupt stop.

          Mom looked relieved and then disgusted, as a flushed Deryl walked, with deliberate steps, to the back door.

          “You’ve got your nerve coming home like this!”

          “Ahhh...come on Baby, don’t start on me,” Deryl stammered.

          I retreated to the living room away from the barrage of angry words.  I could still hear them filtering through the walls.

          “Well.... If that’s the way...you feel...about it...you...you can...just go to *** for all I care!” Deryl bellowed.

          The back screen door slammed and I looked out the dining room window just in time to see the pickup back up and spin onto the road.  Deryl was driving but someone else was in the passenger seat.

          Mom was standing over the stove, angrily flicking the knobs off, as I reentered the kitchen.

          “Where’s Chuck?” I asked as I glanced around.

          “He left with Deryl!” she answered angrily.  She threw a hot pad onto the counter, stomped across the kitchen, entered her bedroom and slammed the door.

          The house was quiet except for Bronco pushing his toy cars across the dining room floor.  A rush of cool evening air touched me as I opened the front door and sat on the faded, top step of the porch. 

          The birds in the large trees rustled and sang to each other as they bedded for the night.  Crickets, under the porch, chirped for the coming darkness.  Dark hews of blue lengthened, as the setting sun caused the oak branches to cast their shadows on the house.  Everything had the feeling of peace… except me.

          I cupped my chin in my hands and relived the earlier scene.  Embarrassment brought heat in my cheeks when I thought of Chuck seeing Deryl drunk.  It was ironic.  I was the one who wanted Chuck to revel the secrets of his heart and past.  Now our family was the ones on display.  I longed for a privacy screen to hide us from view. 

          Why had Deryl started drinking again?  It had been a long time; and perhaps this was a one-time incident. But, even as I pondered it, I felt sadness.  Fear stole over me like a suffocating blanket; coming face to face with an old enemy.  I had hoped and prayed I would never encounter it again. Realizing, the adversary had been stalking all along; waiting for a weakness, an opportune moment when he could seize his victim.  This enemy would attack on occasion; gradually pulling into captivity, until he had such a hold, that life and purpose were drained, and all that mattered was that alcohol reigned. 

          How could I know, at such a young age, the battle and devastation that would ensue in the years to come?  Everyone, this enemy touched, would become sick, from its affect. Not only would alcoholic cause a pattern of self-destruction but also imprint a mark on each member of the family.

          Darkness fell and I changed my self-appointed sentry duty to the living room.  It was past 10 p.m. when lights shone up the road and into the driveway.

          Chuck was in high spirits when he entered the room.

          “You should have been with us Gloria.  Deryl is just a riot.  I never knew he could swear like that.  He could put a sailor to shame.”

          I glared at Chuck. “I’m glad you find it so amusing because I do not!”

          My outburst didn’t daunt Chuck.  He was still chuckling to himself when I left the living room in a huff.

          I didn’t know that within a month Chuck would be standing in a revealing light.  And even if I had known, I wouldn’t have wished it upon him.

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I'M A TAG ALONG

          The noon hour was moderately warm for late March.  Voices intermingled with the sound of singing robins, as the group of ninth grade girls, left the school ground for lunch on Main Street.  I tagged along, even though I hadn’t been invited.  Anything was better than being alone.

          “That was a rough test in English this morning,” I ventured.

          Agnes and Jennifer glanced at me but didn’t answer.  The rest of the girls never acknowledged that I had spoken.  My words hung in mid-air and then nose-dived.  If there had been a hole available I would have crawled in.       As we continued walking, I thought of Chuck.  He had been accepted right away because the boys weren’t as territorial as the girls. There were times when I felt deserted by Chuck.  When I passed him and his friends in the hallway at school, he ignored me.  He had a couple of friends who flirted with me, and when they came to the house, they gave me a lot of attention.  I had a feeling Chuck felt threatened by that somehow.

            Hotchkiss High School was a providence of nonacceptance as far as I was concerned. It seemed to me that the girls ran in a tightly knit pack.  How could I belong to this group of girls who had known each other all of their lives?  How could I squeeze through the walls that held me out? Would it ever be possible to break into this click that was so tightly bonded against outsiders?  And why should I care?  I wished I didn’t care...but unfortunately I did care...I wanted to belong.

          Late in the afternoon the school bus pulled into the driveway.  Chuck, Bronco and I walked toward the house.  Emotionally my chin was hanging to the ground.

          “You got some mail,” Mom announced as we entered the kitchen. “I put it on your bed.”

          My spirits lifted as I bounded the flight of stairs.  There on the lavender bedspread was the welcoming sight...three white envelopes, two from Dave and one from Barb.  The cares and rejection of the day melted as I stretched across the bed and caught up with news from Albuquerque.  There were  friends who actually acknowledged that I existed.  Friends who cared about me.




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NERVOUS...WHY HAD MOM PUT ME IN THIS SITUATION?

          The weather was mild for a late February morning.  I checked my peach dress for the third time: everything was fastened and the matching belt’s buckle was in line with the pearl buttons.

          Chuck strolled along the driveway towards the road.  He looked sharp in his new shirt and Levi’s that Deryl and Mom had bought him.  Chuck received the same as Bronco and I.  He was treated just like one of the family.

          I was concerned how to explain our relationship when we entered the new high school.

          “Just say that you are brother and sister, “Mom had said.

          “But, what will people think about us having different last names?”

          “Don’t worry, everything will work out fine,” Mom answered optimistically.

          I still had concerns.  It wouldn’t be hard to say that Chuck was my brother.  I was beginning to believe our own propaganda. He was becoming more a part of our family.  I felt a growing loyalty and fondness towards him, but I wasn’t sure what he felt towards me.

            Loneliness was my feeling these days, so I hung around Chuck.  I would chatter like a magpie or try to tease him, but I could see in his eyes that I was butting up against his wall of his seclusion.  His invisible sign read, “No Entrance”.  Perhaps he felt awkward having a sister his own age.  Or was he afraid I would discover who he really was behind his wall?  Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter, Chuck had been accepted.

          “Can you see it coming?” Bronco yelled as he ran from the house.

          “No, not yet,” Chuck answered.

          I wondered if either of them was as nervous as I was.  But they didn’t have newly permed hair and a couple of blemishes they were self conscious of. I pulled my bangs down over my forehead but the curls stubbornly sprung back to their original shape.

          I walked to the end of the driveway to take my turn as sentry.

          “Here it comes,” I yelled as the yellow roof topped the crest of the hill.

          Mom waved and three hands returned the gesture (without enthusiasm).  She and Deryl were busy working on the house.  The moving van, with our belongings, would be arriving today.  The decision had been made and carried though: the house on Childers Drive was for sale and we were now buyers, with installments, of a farmhouse and ten acres.

          The long, yellow bus drove into the driveway.  The hinged doors opened, the driver smiled pleasantly, and we entered single file up the black steps.  I was the first to board and I sat in the third seat from the front.  I had assumed that Bronco and Chuck would sit with me.  Chuck headed for the back and Bronco sat across the aisle.  I felt abandoned.

          The driver backed onto the road and the vibrating ride began.  The bus made its stops at farmhouses along the countryside.  Everyone boarding stared in my direction, but no one spoke.  I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I was very aware of the empty space next to me.  Finally, a grade school girl, with long blond braids, sat down beside me.  Neither of us said a word.

          I turned my flushed face toward the window and fastened my attention on the fields, orchards, cattle and houses passing by.  The driver downshifted and the bus curved the steep hill leading into town.

            To a normal observer the scene would have been one of pleasant nostalgia...the corner Phillips Service Station was servicing one pickup at the gas pumps, and two men, dressed in overhauls and caps strolled up the sidewalk and entered the small cafe for their morning coffee.

           However, as I viewed this community I was tense with dread.  What would this little town hold for my life?  Would I be accepted or rejected?  That was my ultimate concern.  My stomach knotted as the bus rounded the last street corners and stopped in front of the school in Hotchkiss Colorado.

BUYING A FARM ON INSTALLMENTS

           

FARM IN HOTCHKISS COLORADO

           The Grand Mesa set on the north, its colossal bluff, dark against the clear blue of the morning sky.  The narrow highway turned eastward, rolling with the hills.  As the miles passed, the countryside began to flatten, and to show its wares of agriculture.

          “Let’s turn off the main highway and maybe we’ll find something for sale among these farms,” Mom suggested.

          Deryl drove the car north on the paved side road.  We wound our way up and down the roads, passing bare orchards and golden brown fields, intermingled between sparsely placed farmhouses.

          “Deryl, stop the car!”

          The automobile came to a halt and we followed Mom’s stare.  Sitting back from the road was a large two-story farmhouse.  Its windows were bare and dingy in the sunlight.

          “It doesn’t look lived in,” Deryl commented, “But there’s no “For Sale” sign.”

          “We could enquire at the neighbors and see if they know anything about the house,” Mom suggested, as she nodded toward a modern bungalow up the road.

          Deryl drove the Ford into the driveway of the small house and went up to the entrance.  A short, gray-haired woman opened the door.  Behind her stood a tall older gentleman.  We watched as Deryl gestured toward the two-story.  The door opened wide and Deryl stepped inside.

          “It has definite possibilities,” Mom said as she eyed the vacant house, “Yes, it’s just what we’ve been looking for.”

          I studied Moms profile.  What enabled Mom to lead us to a vacant farm?  I knew her direction had come from an inward intuition.

          A few moments later, Mom rolled down the window, as Deryl returned to the passenger side of the Ford.

          “The farmhouse is their old homestead where they raised their children,” Deryl said as he leaned against the car door, “It was too much for them to care for so they’ve built this newer home.  The old house has been rented before, but now it is vacant.”

          “Are they willing to rent it again?” Mom asked.

          Deryl’s face displayed a sly grin, “Well, I asked them if they would consider selling it, and they said they have been pondering the idea.  There are ten acres with the house.  They want us to come in and discuss the matter further.”

          While Deryl and Mom entered the house to discuss business, Chuck, Bronco and I decided to go exploring.

          The yard of the homestead was huge, and had at one time been painstakingly landscaped.  The embankment of the front yard was walled with white and gray stones, and flowers had once flourished within a man made tiered garden, which was covered with over growth.  Large oak trees stretched their roots under dormant grass, while their long branches shaded the yard.  The siding of the house was faded white, revealing brown undertones.  Patches of light and dark gray shingles covered the roof.

          Extending from under the second story was a large encircling veranda.  On the south side, in the center of an enclosed porch, was a back door.  A large walnut tree spread its limbs over the entranceway.  Behind the house, towards the west, was a wired fence enclosing an empty chicken coop, three wooden sheds, and land as far as our eyes could see.

          Our investigation was disrupted by the honking horn of the Ford, as it drove on the graveled driveway.  Deryl and Mom were beaming as they left the car.

          “Guess what?” Mom asked excitedly, and then proceeded to tell us without our guessing, “They are willing to sell the house and the ten acres on installments.”

          I wasn’t sure what installments were, but from Deryl and Mom’s exuberance, I figured it must be a good deal.

          “Let’s take a look at the inside,” Deryl said, holding up a silver key loaned to him by the older couple.

          The wooden floor of the back porch squeaked as we entered the house.

          “What a good sized kitchen,” Mom exclaimed as she walked around the white room.  The echoing sound of our footsteps and voices bounced off the barren walls and high ceilings of the old homestead.  The rest of the down stairs consisted of a dining room, bedroom, living room and an adjacent chamber off the living room that was painted “dark green”.

          “This could be another bedroom,” Mom decided as she surveyed the area, “But that color would have to go.”

          We climbed the open staircase that faced the front entryway.  The stair steps were in need of a coat of varnish, as was the thick walnut banister.  The upstairs hallway revealed three bedrooms.

          “This is a big room,” Deryl remarked as we entered the east bedroom.

          “It has a nice view,” Mom said as we looked out the triple windows overlooking the gray veranda roof and the front yard.  A single window on the south wall overlooked the side yard.

          Deryl and Mom were discussing buying the house as we left the upstairs.

          “It would take a lot of work, although the inside is in better shape then the outside,” Mom said, “With a little labor it would make a nice home.”

          “If we buy it, we’ll have to sell the house in Albuquerque,” Deryl said.

          This last comment brought me up short.  My heart sank at the thought.  If we sold the house on Childers Drive it would be burning all the bridges behind us.  Dave’s prediction was becoming more and more impossible.

          (The house on Childers Drive, in Albuquerque, was paid off from Daddy Slim's insurance. Now it would be sold.)