Change

I was always a school geek. Loved it! Never missed unless I just couldn't get out of bed, but most of the time I would force myself up and at 'em and attend class.

The summer after graduating I worked for our local newspaper. I worked side by side with the Editor. The paper was owned by a local family who had 12 children who all worked at the paper. Being Greek, they were very close net and each day at noon the mother, who at this time was in her late 60's and the grandmother who was in her late 80's, would come into the paper and cook lunch for all the employee's. I became quite close to this family and looked forward to work everyday.

At Christmas time, my first few years at college I would come home and attend their family Christmas parties and during each summer worked for their newspaper. They kept certain employee's as family members and I was lucky enough to be one of them.

As years went on I became per vie to private information regarding the finances of the Newspaper. Knowing that they were on borrowed time before the bank came in and shut us down, I watched long time employee's walk out the front doors for their last time. It was very depressing saying goodbye to people who you spent more time with each day then your own family, but understanding what kind of decisions this family had to make to stay alive and employed.

During the last few months before the final days, I seen this family take upon them a lot of stress. Unbearable stress. Heart attacks, strokes and even suicide of one of their own children. Unbearable.

Knowing my time had come I said my goodbyes, but spoke of coming to see them as much as my life would allow me to, I had heard mention of moving out of state for a lot of the children and the parents had talked of moving to their Florida home for good and selling their home here. Time went on and print machines had been removed and the auctioneers were on the premises and appraising everything that would sell. It was a sad site.

I being young, but knowing that I hated change and always had a hard time with it, couldn't help but think of me.....what will happened to me, where would I go, what would I become? I only allowed myself to think of this for seconds before I would think of this wonderful family that had taken the time to teach me so much. Much more then just business, but what family is really about and how tough times can come to your door, but it's all in how we react, then the what IFS. The what IFS are controllable by our reactions. We control our own destiny.

We. Control. Our. Own. Destiny.

Many of us are feeling the fears of the "What IFS". I have had to control my urge to run out and panic. I will in the next few days walk out the front door for the last time. I know this to be true. I have told those that work with me, so that they can be prepared, but how do they prepare themselves to something so devastating. Something like un-employment, when the economy is so bad right now and there is nothing on the horizon for them just unemployment benefits that barely, if at all, can pay a utility bill or car payment.

I was told by a friend who had to apply for benefits that there is a 3 to 4 week wait before you receive your first benefit check. Some of these people can't wait 3 -4 weeks before they can feed their children or even worst have their utilities shut off.

Who is gonna be here for these families with small children. What will happen when they have no heat and no where to go, but their cars or vans to live. My heart breaks and there is not a damn thing I can do but offer them a meal and a bed. I will fill my house to capacity, I will offer all I can and hope some take the offer. I feel this is the very least I can do. My husband feels I have lost it and gone around the bend of craziness, but I have to do this or I will worry myself until I become sick.

I cry for these people and even for myself, because I know I can not continue this for long before I will have to make a judgement call regarding my own family. They have to eat and be taken care of also.

I'm sad today and I not really sure what the future holds for any of us. Just because today is good, does not mean that next week our financial rug could be pulled out from under us. It shows that we all will be affected by this, all of us.

A Little Bit of Everything

O.k. boys and girls, today's post is a little bit of this and that, why you ask?.......um, because it is my blog ya know and the fact that it has gotten a little to serious for my taste here at the Purrrfect Kitty.

So I was watching some telly the other day and they had a documentary on Coal Miners in the State of Virginia. 1st, I have to say that Coal Miners are probably the bravest M.F.'s I know. I could never go down so deep-miles into the earth with nothing but a little flash lite on my hat to see with, in pitch darkness, H.E. double hockey sticks NO! As I have mentioned before that I'm deathly afraid of the dark and that is one thing I know will never grow out of or change.

So, back to the Coal Miners. Did you know back in the early 1900's when they found this black wondrous stuff (Sidebar: not when IT was FOUND, FOUND. Just found in the Virginia area. So don't write me....FINGERS with the actual dates and names or chemist diagram of the sort....no, no. No need) these men would dynamite these huge mountains and dig down into the earth to find this black gold to sustain transportation for trains and heat for our homes and many, many other wonderful things.

Chances are, all of us have had family members who sacrificed their life and health to make our life, back then, a little more comfortable. I know my great-grandfather (and probably great-great) was a coal miner and so was my grandfathers on both sides of my family and the same for my hubby's family in Alabama.

When Hubby's grandfather passed away, we were in Alabama at his home, sorting through his belongings, we found a black book, it was small like the size of a small address book. He had all these numbers listed with dates beside them. "This was his Payroll Booklet" my Hubby's grandmother said. I about freaked out over what these men made for a living.....PENNIES a day!

I seen in 1932 in May he made $90 in one month and that was considered substantial amount of money for a family.....a family of 5 kids and 2 adults.

I have true admiration for these men who risked their life's to make our ancestors life more comfortable.

Back to the show, my OCD is in high gear today.......as the show went on, giving out all kinds of information, there was one part I found the most interesting. Back in the 30's the men were given Red Bandanna's to wear while working to help with keeping the sweat out of their eyes and cool off during breaks by dipping the bandanna into cool water and tying around their necks.

This bandanna (only given to Coal Miners) became a sign of stature. If a gentleman was seen with a bandanna tied around his neck then it was assumed that he was higher up on the income pole.

As time went on, the name "Redneck" was given to these men and with that name came a symbol of affluence. So, to be called a "Redneck" was compliment.

So, there you go boys and girls you have learnt sumting here taday ;)

Now for your entertainment or mine, not really sure. Here is a FYI.

I love watches, all kinds. Mostly large men watches. I not really sure why I have such a obsession with them so, I am normally late to work every morning or anywhere for that matter. (not really everyday, but sometimes, cause I get away with it).

I have had this obsession for years, probably since I could tell time. I remember the first watch my mother had given me, it was a Snoopy watch for girls. Now, I loved me some snoopy, but it was a girls watch. I wanted the G.I. Joe Army watch with all the bells and whistles and army green band. My mother insisted that I keep the "girls" snoopy watch and give my brother back his G.I. Joe watch.

My mother proclaimed that I had too little of wrist and hands and couldn't keep it on without it falling off and losing it in time. Well I gave it back to my brother but still had it in my mind that he would eventually get tired of his watch and take it off for sometime and forget about it, making it mine to take when he forgets about it and moves on to play his Robot Commando or if he had a friend over they would play Rock'em Sock'em Robots (I hated it when he wouldn't let me play this game when his friends were over, cause I would kick his ass every time).

So, back to the watches. I have always loved big, men's watches. I'm still cursed with the small wrist, but I make due and now days you can find women's larger watches that look like men's and when I do I buy them up in every metal, color or band style they have.

When I graduated from High School, most of my friends wanted money or cars (I already had a car) I wanted a Rolex ( I had never heard of Tag Heuer .....YET) and I thought since I had graduated with honors that I was really going easy on them regarding the cost.......hell, some of my friends had received Trust Funds and Exotic trips before college. All I wanted was a Rolex, a good Rolex, a men's Rolex.

Well, my mother wouldn't have it. She bought me a Rolex.......a Rolex with a dainty little black velvet band with a small tiny face with diamonds around the face and in place the 12, 3, 6 and 9. I hated IT! Hate IT!

Granted, I hear all of you moaning......well, you ungrateful little bitch, you should have your ass beat for even asking for such a gift at 18 years of age. your probably right, but my mother was quite comfortable in her finances and could afford pretty much what she could or would ever want in life and I don't want any of that "Oh you were a rich bitch with wealthy parents" Well, you got the "wealthy parents" right, but in no way was I ever rich and was reminded of such my entire youth. This is my mothers statement: Your stepfather and I work hard for what we have and the point is, I will take care of you and take you through college, but after that, what is mine is mine and yours is yours. Capche'? Me: Capche' mother.

Well needless to say she took the watch back I received my 1st Rolex, a Men's Rolex when I graduated College...............I paid for half.

My stepfather and mother never really spoiled me and my 2 brothers. They gave what we needed and somethings we wanted, but mostly just what was needed and not much more. We went on nice vacations and had one of the nicer homes in our neighborhood, but none of this really came until after my Father and Mother were divorced and we stayed poor for a few years just getting by on mothers Therapist income (as a single mother) and only her income. My father never paid her support and my brothers father paid very little for the 2 boys.

When mother met my stepfather is when we became very comfortable or I should say she became VERY comfortable. Granted my father was wealthy and my stepfather was wealthy, but my mother never was independently wealthy, she made sure the men in her life made her that way..........smart some say, very un-happy and sacrificed a lot for men I say.

In my house growing up, everything was a chart. Her chart consisted of several things, but the most common one was the "WANTS, NEEDS, MUST HAVES and DREAMS" if you wanted a pair of jeans that costs over her allotted amount of $19.99 Levi's then those were considered WANTS and you would list it under the WANTS column. If they went above and beyond her acceptable amount of "no more then $30.00 for a pair of Calvin Klein's" well then, those could be considered "DREAMS" cause you were DREAMING if you thought she was gonna pay over $30.00 for you a pair of jeans and she really didn't care if they were Calvin Klein's or if the Pope made and blessed them, cause she wasn't about to pay that much for a pair of jeans.
$25.00 was the limit.

I could say my mother taught me a lot about needs, wants and such, but I still pay way too much for purses, shoes and yes, even jeans. I've had to pinch myself many times when my daughter was growing up. She would ask for something and I knew she really (1. didn't need it or 2. was hustling me to get it). The chart would bounce up in my head and I would find myself starting to analyzing everything, to point where I would just give in and buy whatever she wanted just so I wouldn't be like my mother.

Funny, how we say we will never "do this" or "say that" when we were kids, but once we grow up and are confronted with the same situations as our parents and before you know it, we've become them.

Age 4

I remember my mother running into the living room and telling us kids (my older brother and myself) to go to our rooms and stay there, that "our father was home" and we knew what that meant.



Our father, not really, only my father. Michael's father lived in town and had already re-married also.



We shared a bedroom, only because I was scared of the dark. I was scared of everything back then and rightfully so. As we ran into the bedroom and my brother shut the door behind us, Michael tells me to not cry and if I can't help it, then to cry into the pillow. We both knew what was about to happen. My father had received the divorced papers at the office, at that time of the day he was just starting his drinking, so for him to come home at that hour, we knew what was about to happen.



I was setting on the edge of the bed when I hear the door slam and my father yelling louder then I have ever heard him yell before. I jump so high off the bed that it made my brother bust out with laughter, only to have my father hit the wall open handed and yell "shut -it up in there or I'll come in there and shut you up!" I started to cry.



Michael comes and sets beside me on the bed and puts his arm around me with a whisper in my ear of "he'll be gone before long, he won't stay"but I knew he wouldn't leave, not without leaving his mark. He couldn't leave without leaving a mark or being the bully in-which he was.



We sat on that bed almost motionless, but tons of emotions are swirling the house. I hear my mother talking in her quietness, but my father keeps yelling over her words, to the point of not being able to detect what she is saying. "you bitch, you think your gonna take what is MINE! I don't fucking think so! I'll fucking kill you and those fucking kids. They won't even know you ever existed when I'm done with you!" I hear him smack her down and she hits the floor. This sound I heard so many times before, it was a sound that became so common in our house, it was like hearing the phone ring, it was just that common.



I jerked into my brother shoulder and hid my face and started to cry harder. He whispers to "please be quiet", but I have no control and I start to wet myself. This had become a habit of mine when I became scared. In fact I was a bed-wetter up until I was 10 years old, mostly at night being to scared to get up out of bed to go to the restroom.



Michael scolds me in his quiet but gentle way "Cat....he whispers...I won't let anything happen, I promise. I think he is leaving. Look. See, he is starting his car".



We creep out of our room, to see my mother setting at the kitchen table with her hand over the right side of her face. I ran up to her and she hugs me and my brother..."are you o.k. mommy?...Yes, lovie, He's gone" I stopped shaking at that very moment.



"We have to leave soon, he'll be back and we know what condition he'll be in the next time" Michael says. My mother starts packing us overnight bags. She ask Michael to call the Neighbors and Family members to let them know what was happening. The family and neighbors all knew my father and his ways. They all knew he beat my mother on a daily or nightly basis.



My father was a prominent man in our community as a Attorney, along with being the owner of the Grainary and also one of, if not THE largest farmer in the county. Owning 2700 acre farm. Not only a Alcoholic, but a workaholic and a very rich man. Back in the 1960's money talked. It didn't matter what you did, if you donated money to the Mayors campaign or walked into the neighborhood bar and bought rounds of drinks all-night to the city and county officials, well then you could beat your wife nightly with the Sheriff being called every night, but nothing ever being done about it. The Police would come to the house and ask him to step outside, maybe talk with him for awhile and then be on their way, to their cozy family with dinner on the table awaiting on their return.

On Saturday mornings we would go into town to pay bills or shop for a while. My mom would see her friends or my Dad's employee's wives. You could see the pity they had for her my mother, but my mother always held her head high and would tell us kids to smile, be polite, and kept our business to our self, almost like being the perfect family. I'm sure we looked like it from the outside looking in, but most of the town's people were on the inside and knew what my father was capable of doing to my mother or us kids. Although he never touched me, he did beat on my brothers along with my mother, but with my brothers came the time that they both turned on him one evening when he had been on a 2 day drunk and they put him into the hospital for 11 days, but by this time we had already left the house and was living elsewhere.



My father wasn't always a alcoholic, it just became that way when he acquired all of these business's. With the stress of being a owner of more then you can handle, came the problems of finding something to take his mind off the responsibilities. He worked hard at being a alcoholic, I believe he worked harder at that then he did at being a husband or father. Over time it became his DNA and it kept him alive.



As the day prolonged and we were not moving as fast as we should have been, the night and evening was on us. I remember my mother saying, "we are taking to long, Michael get off the phone. We need to leave now" I think I was the first into the car when I see the dust from the road telling us that someone was flying towards our farm at a high rate of speed. It was him. I started screaming as soon as I seen the headlights hit the front of the car.



It was like the universe feed us energy. The stress and screaming was out of control . My mother is yelling at Michael to get into the car and lock the door, she is trying to get into the car herself and lock her door, while trying to start the car and get us moving so that he couldn't try to break the windshield, that she had just had fixed the week prior or rip into the convertible lining on her Cadillac........that he never let her forget he purchased for her, but it was really bought for her because she wouldn't come back home after one of the other times he had beaten her into a coma and broke her face......literally. My mother had more titanium in her face then the space shuttle.



It all couldn't work out as planned. No, not our luck. My father jumps out of his car while still in motion and rolls into the side of the barn and finally coming to a halt. He jumps onto the hood of the car as we are moving. Each of us screaming at her to GO! She slams on her brakes bring us to a abrupt stop. He rolls off the hood onto the ground in front of her car. She won't go forward, she just stops and starts to cry, she knows he has her again. She yells at him to get away from the car through the driver side window. I being in the back seat, have my face smashed up against it yelling "daddy go away, leave mommy alone. Please daddy let us leave" he comes to my window and tells my mom through the rolled up window that she can't take me with her, then he looks into my eyes (I will never forget this) and says "daddy can't live without his baby girl, open your door sweetheart. Look, daddy got you a new kitten, open the door so I can show you" I actually stopped crying and went to unlock the door when my brother leaped over the driver side seat and stopped me. When he does, this makes my father go into a fit. My father turned into a monster, he started yelling and spit was coming out of his mouth"open the door you little Bitch! Your just like you fucking mother you idiot! open the door or I'll beat your ass when I get you out!" I have and will NEVER forget that look on his face. It was like a switch that switched him into evil, he had pure hatred in his eyes.



He started towards the barn to get a weapon no doubt to knock out the windshield again, when my mother had her opening to drive off and she did. We went to my Uncle Jessie and Aunt Jo's house, my mother knew that was the ONLY place we would be safe. My father feared my Uncle Jessie and the last time my father put my mother into the hospital my Uncle paid my dad a visit and told him that if he ever laid a hand on my mom again, the authorities would never find his body. (I can promise you that my Uncle Jessie was telling the truth when he said that to my father......my Uncle Jessie was a tumbler and the family has always swore he was involved with the underground and had connections. He was Murdered in downtown Chicago in 1980 and the murder has never been solved. He was gunned down in front of a night club on Michigan Avenue).



I went 3 years after that of not knowing or caring where my father was. I remembered the next time I seen him. I was in a parade on our town square and he showed up out of no-where. He was drunk of course and showed his ass in front of my twirling squad and was arrested.



It wasn't until I was 18 that I seen my dad again. He was sober. He and my mother tried to rekindle their relationship, but it never worked. I believe I had a little to do with their never working it out. I was older and hated him and made sure I caused enough trouble to keep him away from my mother and my brother, along with myself.



4 Years ago I received a call out of the blue from my Half brother from Florida. He and my Sister had been out of my life for 30 years without any contact, to now him calling me to tell me that our father was dying from lung cancer. At first I had no emotion, then I felt I should be there. So my husband and I jumped on a plane and flew to New York City. They (my half brother and sister) had told me that our father didn't want me there until he was close to dying, so they respected his wishes and had not contacted me until there was only hours left. I'm not really sure if that is true, other then he, my father may have not wanted time to answer the questions I had for him, like: Why haven't you been a part of my life and why haven't you contacted me except the calls maybe every 5-8 years apart along with no visits. He just may have not wanted to answer my questions or it may have been their choice to not have me there since they had all rights to the will that cut me out of to only 10 percent (what the state requires for a child, the less amount he could leave me was 10 % and they were left 45% each of a 4 million dollar estate). I'm not sure of why it had to happen like this or why they did and said a lot of what they said, but I know that when we landed my cell phone rang to hearing my sister crying and saying that he had just passed.



They (my Half-brother & sister) of course left my dad's body there at the hospital until I could get to the hospital and say my goodbyes (I So respect them for at least giving me that....NOT) but for some reason they decided to put me in a hotel (at my expense) the first night, instead of putting me and my husband in one of dad's 7-apartments or 3 houses.

No, they had something to hide before allowing me to come to his primary home. Things where very strained at first, then as days went by I let all of the past and present go. They had the same father I had, I know he was awful to their mother, who he beat for years until my father left their mother for my mother...........I believe that is why they have never accepted me to be a part of their life's, until just here recently (and I only believe they have done so because they have come to realise that I'm quite comfortable and may have something for them.....NEVER! Not even a glass of water do I have for them).

My brother who was the Chief of Police in Ft. Lauderdale Florida, until he had gotten into some trouble and was asked to leave the department, and then, and only then, he asked me if he come here to see me for a few weeks......3 to be exact....while he get his head on straight. I decided to let him come for the 3 weeks. Bad mistake. He thought I should treat him like a fucking KING and kiss his ass the whole time he was here. It came time for hm to leave, I think it was 2 days prior to him leaving when I finally blew up on him and told him what I really thought about him, my sister and how they handled my dad's affairs and the whole estate stuff. I told him I believed he and my sister kept me from coming to the house so that they had time to remove anything in the house that might show that my dad cared for me and my mother (because there wasn't one picture of me or my family, which I had sent to him every year and they kept telling me that my father hated me and my mother).

I told him that he and my sister didn't do a very good job hiding everything because I found a picture in the belongings that the hospital had dropped off, it was a picture I had NEVER seen EVER. It was a picture of my mother holding me while she sat on the hospital bed just moments after giving birth to me. Not even my mother had that picture and it was in his wallet right behind his driver license, so if my father hated me and my mother so badly, why would he have kept a picture of such magnitude. WHY? If my father loved their mother so much, where was her pictures? What I'm saying is, don't lie about things that can make or break a person to the point of a breakdown. I literally believed that my father hated us until I found that picture and then I knew, it was like my mother was working this all out from heaven and letting her little girl know that they are liars and heartless at best.

Never again. Nope! I tried to be his and her sister, almost to the point of losing myself by giving so much to have them love and accept me, but it just didn't feel right. I still believe they have hidden things from me and spent money, sold property and cashed in life insurances that did not belong to them. I'm grown now and can protect myself from them and I will do just that. I told him I will not research this matter, but feel that he should know that it still comes to me at night in my dreams. I believe that there is something here that they are not telling me or giving me, but as time goes on it will come out, I believe that. I believe in Karma and if they are smart they will come clean before Karma hurts them so badly that not even God will help.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

I awoke this morning to a (minus) -12 degrees with windchill at -18 degrees. Nothing works in negative degrees. Nothing.

My car didn't want to start, my garage door was frozen to the (concrete) drive and our electricity is going off and on. Without electric, we have no HEAT! I don't think I can make it without heat. I told my husband that we should go to a hotel tonight (just in-case) we should lose our power. I spoke to a friend of mine who is living in Florida for the winter months and she said it was in the lower 40's there.....in Florida!

What the heck? Even the warm States are going through a cold spell. My mother-in-law who lives in Alabama (it is usually in the lower 70's during the month of January) said it was in the lower 40's and had gotten down into the 30's overnight. She had to turn on her furnace, which are wall unit that burn natural gas, but in no-way would I consider it a furnace. It only heats the room in-which it is located in, so it does not distribute heat through-out like my Real furnace does.

It stays so warm down in Alabama, that most people don't have garages, they have car-ports. It just covers the top of the car with 2 sides exposed and 2 sides closed to the elements. Here we have to have garages or the weather will damage our vehicle's.

In the summer we have BAD storms. Tornado's and hail to the point that if your vehicle's are outside, they will receive some sort of damage from it. And then you have our blistering winters with (minus) degree's of coldness and ice to the extreme of losing power for days until the electric company can make it to your home. If you live in the country you may be without power for weeks. Most have generators to use so that you can have heat and minimal lighting at night.

Years ago in March of 1990 (on my birthday to be exact) we had a very bad Ice storm that last for 3 days and 2 nights. The ice was 4 - 6 inches thick on the power lines and trees, which made them snap in two. We had a tree that was many years old. It decided that it could no longer take the weight of the ice and snow. Well, it broke onto our house, luckily it landed more so on our garage instead of the house and didn't expose us to the cold, but sure did scare the shit out of me when it hit the house/garage and made the most god-awful sound.

We were stranded in our house for 4 days without power or heat. The Governor had made it a State of Emergency and you could only be out if it was an emergency and if caught they would prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law.

We had snowmobiles and were able to get to family and friends who needed medicine or food. We used the fireplace that we had in our family room for heat and cooking. We shut off the other rooms with plastic to keep the heat in one room and cooking off the fire. We unfortunately did not have a Generator and could not fine one or a vacant hotel within our city limits or next city over. Everything around us was sold out or occupied. Not even milk or bread was available for weeks until the ice and snow melted to be able to get trucks into our city. It was a mess.

I remembered reading somewhere that 9 months later from the date of the storm there was recorded record amount of babies born ever in our city. I guess we all know what most couples were doing with their time being shut in their house with nothing else to do but make babies.

It was a fun time although I was sick to death of Chili and Soups. That was all we had to make over a open flame and couldn't find anything else in what few stores that were open.......and even that was very limited. Some stores stayed closed for almost a month before they re-stocked their inventory to open back up.

We have had a few more Ice storms since. We even had one a month ago, but nothing compared to that one. I think it made history for the longest and most dangerous Ice storm on record for the Mid-West.

Oh well, I don't think our community could take another jump in the population like it did back then. We would need to build on to our maternity wards in our 3 hospitals, cause god knows just the 3 wards that we have is nearly not enough. They were birthing babies in the Emergency Rooms because they had ran out of rooms and space within the hospital. Now that's bad.

Why?

Why is it that I change back to Blogger/Blogspot and have to regret it?

I received a strange email today from some person/lady who said that she has been receiving emails addressed to me, but are being sent to her address.

This person(s) email is a work email, but in no way is it me or mine. This person also said that she thought maybe they (blogger) had published the wrong address for a while now. But that can't be, I said, because I have received some emails from some of my readers as early as this morning and they came to me?

This young lady explained that she use to blog, but no longer because something very close to this happened to her and she had gotten into some trouble for it from her employer.

I know that there is a lot of "Cat's" in the blogsphere and it is confusing........maybe due to the lack of imagination on my part (who knows) and I have been concern to the fact and have even thought about changing my user name and even my blog, but what would I change it too?

Who knows, I just know that I'm sick to freaking death of blogger or blogspot I should say, fucking up my stuff!