Jude Stringfellow's Blog, page 106

Prelude to my Book

 Prelude 

Now, before we get started, there is something I need to do.  I need to tell you a little story about my three children so you can better understand where it is that I’m coming from, and why it is that I said what I said about each of them. Remember, most of the blogs were written years and years ago; my children’s lives have changed dramatically since these writings, but for the most part their personalities have remained intact.  This is a little story I made up to explain the differences in my children. This event never actually took place. 

******* 

One day I was sitting on the couch in the cold den because the heat had been turned down below 60 for some reason; no one really knows why, no one with three children in their almost teen years anyway. As I sat freezing under a couch pillow, contemplating getting up and finding a blanket, my son Reuben came into the house; big, brawny, bulky, he was covered in mud and had a really excited gait to his step, half breathing, half talking, he asked me, “Mom, where are the matches?  I want to burn the barn down out back behind our house so I can clear it out to play football?”   Did I just hear him correctly? If I did he’s not done it yet, and he’s actually asking my permission in his weird little way, letting me know both his intention, and saying he needs my help.   

As I was no longer sitting on the couch, but flying to the kitchen and over to the third drawer where I keep the matches, I blocked my son from taking them out of the drawer long enough to begin to explain to him why it would be that we should not, cannot, will not be burning any barns down any time soon!  Before I could finish my little mom-rant, my 2nd child Laura, cute as a button, never actually looking her age, and just smart as a whip, came walking into the kitchen with her little notebook. She always carried her little notebook so she could write out things she was thinking, or calculate things she needed to know. This time was no different. Her big brown eyes glanced at Reuben first, then at me, noting that I was blocking her brother from the third drawer she said, “Mommy, I took the matches. I saw Reuben coming and heard him talking to Jonathan outside, so I knew what he was about to do.  I hid them so he won’t get them, but here’s the deal; I made a list of all the reasons why Reuben should be allowed to remove the barn, and even made a chart with graphics to explain how it could be done without actually having to burn it down. Do you want to see?  To be honest, her actions even took Reuben by surprise this time, not me. She’s always been that way. 

Just as I was about to let Laura show me her drawings and have her try to engage Reuben into her means and ways of finding a better way to facilitate whatever it was that he needed or wanted to do, my ears were pricked by the sound of the city fire department’s truck and engines barreling down the side road behind my house.  Upon looking out the back window all three of us could see black smoke billowing upward into stark, twisted, dark plumes...it didn’t take any of us long to figure out what was happening. Caity found the matches.  

******* 

Enjoy your read. 

Been There, Done That.

 My daughter Laura and I own horses, the other kids don't really get into them, but Laura and I have been most of her life - - which as you may have guessed, is a really long time. My kids are so old, it's really sad how they've gotten out on their own and don't truly need Mom anymore. I keep Laura around for the simple fact that I don't want to ride by myself, feed animals by myself, train by myself, or just overall hang out with people I don't already know; been there, done that, it wasn't fun.  A lot of times when you have horses you'll see one for sale or someone wanting to buy one, and the language they have in the advert will say they're looking for a "Been There Done That" type of horse, meaning a gentled soul that isn't going to tear them apart, buck them off, run them over, kick or bite them, and they have been worked to the point of near boredom.  Well, I don't mind admitting I like that in my horses too.

Laura, besides being a horsey person, plays online games and I hear her from time to time playing with people from only God knows where, and they like to play the weirdest things too; one game is called "Never Have I Ever".   The game "Never Have I Ever" is a fairly simple one, you try to one-up someone by NOT doing something that most humans have done, and you get points for having never done it if they have. Simple, right?  Well, I'm listening to them play and I notice Laura over there in her room calling out things I've done that she hasn't done, to see if anyone else has done it, so she can get points. Apparently, she lived a rather sheltered life, and hasn't been caught making out with someone under a tree, she hasn't gone noodlin' for fish, and she hasn't stuck her arm fully up a cow's butt to pull out a baby that was turned around sideways.  I count myself a failure when I hear how many things Laura hasn't actually done, and it makes me wonder if Caity is any better educated with life experiences or if I failed both of them.

Reuben would be really bad at this game too; it wouldn't just be me losing.  He's been to several foreign countries because of the job he has with the United States Army and now the Oklahoma National Guard (He's in the elite 45th Infantry); he's been there a few times and done that a few times, I'm sure of it. One of the players called out from their computer somewhere that they had never driven a car! WHAT? Where are you? Who are you? Are you 10? Here in Oklahoma, we're driving tractors at 9 or 10, trucks and cars no later than 14, and on the roads by 16, most of us anyway.  Then another calls out, "Never have I ever kissed a pig", got me.  I've kissed pigs.  Another calls out, "Never have I ever sang on stage"; oops...that one took Laura out of the game! Boom!  I have sung on stage too, but Laura made money at it.  She was using the most interesting strategy for the game too; waiting until there were just a few left and then announcing (almost with pride) "Never have I ever skinny dipped"; NOPE...been there, done that...a few times. My good friend and director Michael Givens often tells me he can't wait to get to Heaven so we can do that again - - to which I laugh. I had my clothes on when we were in the ocean, now whether or not he did is another story and not mine to share. 

I guess there are times I wish I could say "Never Have I Ever " done this or that,  but there are more times I suppose that I would be lying if I said I hadn't.  I guess I can say I've never won the game "Never Have I Ever" that's a fact.  When we were kids we played "Truth or Dare" and I always took the Truth-telling because I didn't want to be dared to do something I would have to do considering I don't really ever back down -- I always tell the truth, even if it's brutal and too honest - - count on me to ruin your day in less than two seconds!  OK, here we go, "Never Have I Ever...parachuted".... ha! Reuben would so lose!  He's eaten camel spiders too -- I should remember that when I ask him to play; that may be a good match come to think of it. "Never Have I Ever played Never Have I Ever with my kids!" That may change.

Sailor Ellis Jayne Stringfellow

 How is it that this girl has made it seven long years without Gramma writing about her in a blog? No way!! I couldn't even believe it when I went through my blogs to find one just dedicated to her sweet soul. Nope, there wasn't one. I talk about her a lot in a bunch of other blogs, but I didn't even take the time to write one just for her, so that's what I'm doing right now!  Ode to my Sailor Ellis Jayne Stringfellow!

Sailor came to us on the morning of May 10, 2013, and she was one pretty baby, let me tell you -- not as big as her brother at nearly 10 pounds, but she was a whopping 8 pounder plus! She held her own, that's for sure, and she's never been the slightest bit shy about telling you just how to make things happen HER way. She's 100% her own, even at the age of two, we knew this when she took off running down the street diapered trying to catch a dog that had caught her attention from the interior window of my house! OFF SHE WENT - - opening doors, climbing down the porch stairs, pumping it down the road, foot over foot screaming "DOGGY! DOGGY!"  It wasn't long before her mom and I were able to wrangle her and bring her back to the world of obedient children; where moms and grannies aren't taken by complete surprise. The dog got away - - but only that one. Sailor is exactly like her mom Caity, if the animal isn't claimed she's gonna own it! That includes squirrels, deer, rabbits, ferrets, gorillas...no, she'll probably let the gorilla find its way back to its home base; maybe.

At seven Sailor has mastered gaming, basic computer skills in general, and is interested in programming. She's an artist, a writer, an actress, a painter, a cook, and she likes to dance and sing too. She's eclectic and has her own style.  Because her dad is so freakishly tall, Sailor is already a head taller than her best friends of the same age and class at school.  She's that one girl you always remember from elementary school that stood almost as tall as the librarian and could out-eat any boy in the school for sure. She's athletic and loves to hike, but that's where things can become tricky if you know what I mean. If you see her picking up a rock along the trail, don't assume it's a rock, it could have feet, a tail, a nose, and it may need a name soon.  

Like her brother Copeland, Sailor was raised by two overly active parents who ride bikes, hike, go walking, shop at new stores, vacation, go traveling, like to camp, and her gramma and aunt have horses, so you know she's gonna want a pony of her own soon as well.  Sailor loves games and she's not all that upset if she loses as long as she doesn't lose by too much. She's a good sport about it when it's a fair game. I've seen her walk away when things got too heated and she couldn't pull a rabbit from a hat to save her life, but she was pretty good about it; offering a cookie as a reward to her big brother for his win! He's the type to thank her, and even apologize for winning; she's the type that will let him apologize.  They make a good set. I like them both....ah heck, who am I kidding, I love them!

She's my girl.

Brandola! Brandola!

     When she came home from a weekend camping venture, all Caity could talk about was Brandon this, Brandon that; Brandon, Brandon, Brandon. OK, I get it, you met a new guy and let me guess, his name is BRANDON!  Most men were boys when it came to Caity's attention. She was entering her last teenage year when suddenly she switched gears like she was running her heart on a railroad tracking system, BAM! She no longer looked at boys -- they had to at least be over 18, tall, handsome, rugged if possible, and if they had a job she was all about that - - enter, Brandon! (Did I mention he was flat-out adorable, too?)

     Like every young man, Brandon had issues with maturity, trying to make decisions based on both his own personal experiences and those experiences he's been privileged to monitor throughout his young life. He hadn't been exposed to too many good examples when it came to male role models, and that bothered me, having raised the girls without their father for the past several years; his choice, not ours. My dad was a very positive role model for my girls, as was their older brother, who at the time Caity brought Brandon home to meet everyone, was just getting back from Iraq, having spent a year of his life in the sand.  

    Reuben's concerns about Brandon took on a more fatherly type concern than it did a brotherly concern, but to say he was impressed was more of an overstatement. He was never going to allow Brandon the opportunity to even glance at Caity as long as she was still his baby sister -- good thing his duty station of Fairbanks, Alaska was over 3600 miles away!  Brandon met Caity on a Friday I think and was living with us the next weekend. He never left. We still have Brandon; who I call "Brandola" because I can. He's 30 now, over 6'4" tall, fully bearded, working full time, earning his own, they bought a house for themselves about a year ago, and because he's the nicest guy in the world, he made me two grandbabies with Caity. I love the guy. I'm going to keep him even if I sell Caity.

    I can't say that I agree with everything that comes out of Brandon's mouth; he's a Virgo, he thinks he's correct when he should obviously realize that we Scorpios have that market cornered. He's brilliant in many ways, talented, quiet, respectful, engineering, quite attentive, well adjusted, and he still listens to those around him so that he can add to his own personal experiences. I don't think I've had a single argument with the man in over 11 years of knowing him - - interesting.  True fact.

    I could go on and on about the guy, talking about his love for MMA wrestling, how he likes to play competitive video games, but he's not so absorbed in them that he can't get off the chair to make his own dinner if Caity's too absorbed in her game to do it for the both of them. He'll even make hers too, and dress and situate the kids while she's destroying the worlds around her. He's been 100% supportive of Caity in her growing projects, always willing and able to put in the efforts necessary to pull off an impossible feat -- if possible.  He's had a few jobs, lost a few jobs, learned from his mistakes, made more mistakes, and continues to kick himself for some of the ones he and I both wanted to kick him for, but he's the best guy out there right now for my little girl - - and I thank God every day for my Brandola.  Everyone needs one. I have one. I'm blessed.

Gamer? Me? Sure Why Not?

 If I deign to walk past my roommate's bedroom door I would venture to see her (my daughter Laura) on her computer, headset on as she stares at two large monitors. Her fingers flying, her entire body leaning over, now forward, and the swearing - - MY GOSH, you'd think she was her brother! Every other word is unprintable unless you do print it and everyone comments on how you printed it; I won't print it here, but you get the picture.  She's a gamer.  Laura is one helluva horse trainer in real life, having the skills, training, and talent to heave 1200 pound animals around or make them do what she wants with only a stern look of her eye and a curl of her lip; OK, she throws in a grunt or growl type noise too, but they move!  She's equally vicious on the game(s) she plays and I can tell she's being murdered, slaughtered, killed, or otherwise destroyed by someone as equally creative in their own skills -- "Who are you playing against kid?" I ask. "Your damn daughter!" comes her retort - - my answer; of course she is. Caity is just a hair ruder than Laura; good thing I'm not over at my other daughter's house at this moment, and I'm sort of hoping the grandkids are either out of earshot or they are at school where they don't have to witness taking place.  I'm not going to lie, I find it fascinating that the two of them still "play" well together past the age of 30.

Let's see - - could I be a gamer? I've never been one. Even when Astroids came out and you could only play it on arcade games at 7-11, I never put in more than one quarter and played one time until I died, which didn't usually take very long. I just never cliqued you'd say, with gaming. I either felt that I was really bad at it or maybe I just didn't want to lose a quarter knowing it wouldn't last me more than three minutes anyway - - I'm Scottish. I don't spend money if I don't need to spend money. I will spend it, I do in fact spend a great deal of it, but usually on horse-related things - - or horses themselves. I'm not afraid to spend money.  

You know what I would spend money on actually? I would spend so much money on buying groceries! Yes, I would! I could and I would spend much more than a quarter at a time on a game that let me pick up and pick out various grocery items! Oh my gosh, I could walk up and down each aisle at the virtual store. I could see shelves and shelves of products, goods, and wares! I could read labels for extra points. I could price compare and if the gaming engineers were cool enough to add a few extras such as in-game demonstrators who passed out food items allowing me to test the taste, texture, and smell of different foods that would be awesome. I guess for the smell part you'd have to just take the word of the game itself since your monitor probably wouldn't produce anything close to garlic or cinnamon - - not yet, that's next, I'm sure. I would do that! Pick me!

For the most part, I'm just not a gamer; preferring to read, research, study, even pretend I'm buying a house in Scotland using the RightMove app on my phone or their website. I've probably purchased 1000 houses by now; terraced, semi-detached, detached, and some bungalows. I stay away from the flats usually as I want a backyard for my pretend dog. My pretend dog will probably be small like Ginger -- and who knows, maybe it will actually be Ginger if I do move since I can take her without quarantining her (a small fact you may or may not have realized). I could get into that game too I guess, and I could win it! I could shop for houses with great speed and efficiency. I'm really good at it now. I have got it down to science really.  If the house is not close enough to a bus stop it's out the door. If it's not close enough a good grocery store so I can pedal my bike a half-mile or so, it's out the door. If it has the bathroom (notice I didn't say "a bathroom" because so many of the houses I could afford have only ONE bathroom -- and some of them are showers only.) on the upper level, which they call the first level, we call it the second story; it would be out the door as well.  Nope, I'm pretty demanding on my house choices to be sure! I win at that one! Quarter or no quarter, I spend hours shopping for the right house I'll never buy.

To each their own.  I raised two girls that could spend hours beating each other up, crashing into each other, destroying one another's kingdoms or just creating things that blow my mind...all the while cussing at each other as if they were mortal enemies; and I guess they are to some degree, they are sisters.  My son plays games, but he's more of a football coach type on those sporting games where you create individual team players and play against others who do the same. He's good...during off-season I will literally drive to his house and watch a few games, eat pizza and feel pretty satisfied.  I wonder if my kids would go shopping online with me tomorrow and ... well, nevermind.

Big Bearded Beautiful Brutes

     Every woman has her preferences I suppose. I also suppose that every man has his personal preferences when it comes to who he may find attractive; by attractive, I literally mean who and what type of person will draw the attention of another person to the point of thinking "You know what, I like what I see". For me it's an easy fix; give me the big, bearded, beautiful, brute every single time. I don't know what it is about that "type" of man, but it is the trigger and I pull it every time - - at least in my head, I do.

    It can happen at any time too. I know I'm not the only one who is randomly caught off guard by the one thing that trips their mind's trigger. You'll be sitting somewhere, minding your own business, maybe thinking of going to the store and picking up a bag of bagels, when out of the clear blue sky he walks right past you! Who walks right past you? Do you know him? No! You don't know him, but he's THAT GUY! He's about six feet tall, give or take. He's about two hundred pounds or so, maybe a bit more. He's round, not thin, he's more or less marching, not simply walking, and he's got that face a grizzly bear would love! He is fully bearded, and that wonderfully draping beard is not necessarily all that closely shaved to the face -- you can see a bit of the blue sky through it when he passes you - - it's at least two inches long; qualifying this man to be THAT GUY!

    This exact thing, sans the bag of bagels, happened to me the other day while I was working out at my local YMCA.  The Y is just across the street from where I live, so giving in to working out is not an issue for me. I just trot over, swipe my card, and spend 20-30 minutes on a few machines working as hard as I can for the maximum boost for what my personal trainer (son) calls H.I.T.T., not to be confused with H.I.I.T. I do the High-Intensity Tactical Training - - and it sucks! I'm not that great at it, but I do give it a go, and that's exactly what I was doing on the crunch machine when I decided to change the weight from 130 to 150. In order to do that, I sat up, opened my eyes, and was instantly met with one of THEM....THAT GUY was also working out, not walking past me, but just gloriously picking up more than his own weight in a deadlift and he was just about at half squat - - he had THOSE LEGS that go along with THAT GUY. His longer than shorter, shorter than long legs with just about as much muscle as a man can pack onto said legs, and almost as fuzzy as his face. I stared for at least a full few seconds before increasing the weight on my machine. I may have drooled.

    Not being one to take one of these types home with me at first glance, I decided to incorporate him into my next fantasy - - probably worked out better for both of us if he was married with kids, or needed to know my name before marrying me and running off to Scotland. I think of these things. I think I should at least be cordial and pick my tongue up off the floor before I have to smile and say something stupid like "Excuse me, are you using this machine?" when you KNOW he is not using the machine that you pretended you wanted to use. I am so not going to do that - - so I left the gym before I did that. Self-preservation - - works well when you take the time to utilize it in your own life.

    All that being said, and I could go on and say so much more, but I won't; I prefer the hairy big bearded brutes to the skinny boys (or men) wearing tight jeans, scarves, polos, whatever - - crocs. Give me black boots on a man; hell, he can be barefoot as long as he's bare all over - - did I say that out loud? Stop already! OK, OK, OK...so he shouldn't be naked, he should have clothes on to keep him warm, and if he's at the gym or walking into the store he would definitely need to be wearing something so let me see, what on Earth could I possibly put on this new fantasy man that would make him more...ahh, I know, a kilt. That's it! He's ready to go!  I didn't say he had to attract you or anyone else did I? Nope, his entire mission today, tonight, tomorrow, the next day, and every day after that in my dreams is to attract ME and only me, and he can do that wearing his kilt...and black boots. I do like black boots, maybe unlaced, maybe holding a cup of coffee, but yeah....that.  So sue me, I have a type. 

Too Comfortable for Comfort

 Have you ever just sat and watched people interact with each other? It's a habit or a hobby of mine, I'm not sure which, but I will literally stop what I'm doing, and in some cases, I make a point to just sit in one spot (maybe at a park) and watch the way couples interact with each other. If they have children with them I could probably be arrested for stalking because I tend to watch, stare, and google as they cry out, bellow, holler, yell at, scream at, and otherwise berate and belittle the ones they love - openly in public.

How is it that two people who at some people were seemingly each other's everything can, in just a few years, turn against each other while remaining in a soured arrangement (I can't call it marriage if they hate each other). Are they just fulfilling their contractual obligation, or do they really think that the way they are behaving is normal? It may be typical, it may even be acceptable to most, but I wouldn't tolerate it for a day let alone years!  You may say, "Oh, you don't throw in the towel at the first sign of disagreement", but what I see out there is by no means the first event -- not by a long shot.  If people find themselves to the point of pushing each other's buttons for the sake of pushing those buttons, it's time to get help or cut bait.  I'm not one to advocate a divorce; believe me, I want things to work out for people, but if they simply can't find the love they cultivated at one point, they need to leave before it grows worse.

You hear couples who are in miserable situations say they are staying married for the kids.  Wait five or six years and ask the kids how that turned out for them.  I have never, and I do mean never, met an adult kid whose parents stayed married "for the sake of the kids" say that they were better off because mom and dad stuck it out only to divorce when the child was in college or struck out on their own. In every case it tends to be the worse years for the kids too -- they have to deal with peer pressure, puberty, grades, homework, and on top of all that they have to watch or hear their parents constantly fighting over things that more or less could have been solved if one or the other of them would give up their pride long enough to remember that love never fails -- so stop failing it! Stop failing each other, stop failing by trying to win the last argument. 

When I asked my good friend (We'll call her Jeannie) how she and her husband have managed to stay married as long as they have, she reminded me that Darin (her wonderfully sweet husband) is not her first husband.  I had nearly forgotten! She had been married beforehand -- that's right! So, I rephrased my question; I asked her how she had stayed married so long this time, to which she answered that she listens to him and he listens to her, and when they have an argument of any kind they decide to think from both sides and come to the best conclusion possible.  When she feels he is not paying attention she tells him, but she doesn't nag him. When he feels that she shouldn't do something, or buy something, he tells her, but he doesn't forbid her, or otherwise make her feel less worthy.  It makes perfect sense.

Being too comfortable around someone can lead to feelings of unworthiness or feeling of resignation. "Oh well, we're married, he'll just have to take me looking like this. I'm not going to dress up for him." This sort of mentality has always set me in a mood of frustration - - I want to ask the person, "So why did you dress up in the first place? To catch someone? To lure someone?"  What's wrong with dressing up, gussying up a little, and making a bit of a fuss now and then? What's wrong with going on a date, asking your lover out on a date, making a deal out of his or her latest creation in the kitchen, or even a wee compliment on something they'd never have expected you to notice?  ANSWER? There's nothing wrong with it -- do it, it actually makes life easier!

No, I won't do it again. If I ever marry again (I say marry because I have no intention of dating again, that's for the birds) I will not be the complicit and/or ordinary wife. I will not slough off, frump up, or become comfortable to the point of being uncomfortable in my own body or mind. I will not compromise my imagination in intimate matters -- going weeks without sex or lovemaking. I have never understood that aspect of marriage - - and I never will. I can honestly say that sex is not the most important part of a relationship by any means, but you don't schedule it for gosh sakes! You don't become acquainted with it to the point that you resign to a 20-30 minute routine every other Friday! If you get to that point there's a problem, and the problem could be YOU.  There are solutions if you'll just pay the least bit of attention -- there are ways to create new and exciting moments in an otherwise jaded relationship -- and if there isn't - - well, God knows there are ways. Ask God for help. 

That's my rant - - and it is that perhaps, a rant.  I speak from experience, and I know from my own past that I was the problem -- and I believe by leaving I made the right choice. I also know that I will never put myself in such a mess again. I will kick my own butt first.

In That Somewhere - a poem

 In That Somewhere 

 

Lying back against the grain 

I noticed something aching 

My heart, my soul, my mind in fact 

I feel my eyelids shaking 

 

I’d not be too far off to say 

I know there’s something happening 

It seems that just beyond my dream 

Someone out there is waiting 

 

Waiting just for me to say 

I know who you are and love you 

I know that someone out that way 

Is wanting to be found too 

 
In that somewhere 

In that space 

Somewhere past my dreaming 

Someone waits to say ‘It’s me’ 

Another tear—I’m trying 

 

I’m trying hard to wake and find 

The love my heart desires 

But when I wake he is not there 

My mind’s voice—a liar 

 
Somewhere in that somewhere 

Deeper thoughts unfold 

I fantasize—you’re smiling 

But soon wake to be told 

 

That all I think is only thought 

And all my wishes wishing 

I just think someone has to be 

Out there somehow—somewhere 

 

Jude Stringfellow 

1982 

A Writer's Right - a poem

 A Writer’s Right 

 

Escape me now 

Oh, wretched pen 

Don’t lure my hand to wander 

Too often times 

Your inkened soul 

Starts my mind to ponder 

 

If left to you 

My tears would roll 

To stain my heart ‘believer’ 

Because of you 

I dream of lies 

Reality—is fleeting 

 
It’s just no use 

I know it’s said 

A fool keeps right on dreaming 

I write fine lines 

So well disguised 

There’s nothing for the keeping 

 
Romantic fires, 

A blanket’s warmth 

These things belong to my pen 

Chilled Rose’ wine 

And whispered lies 

I wonder who will read them 

 

Through words on page 

Our lovers rage 

So clear in their deception 

It’s not mere ink 

(As you may think) 

How dare I say—a passion! 

 

Jude Stringfellow

circa 1980

Dolor Dream - a poem

 Dolor Dream 

 

When you are close, I lose control 

"Hold me”, (I wish), no, don’t stare 

Protest escaping into dream  

Only dusk can bring you nearer 

 

I won’t pretend I don’t pretend 

Knowing fully, it is my curse 

Visions, dreaming, wishing 

So easy to write each verse 

 

Truth in muffled whispered gasps 

My pillow holds my secrets 

Etiolate into bliss; (unrest) 

I fade in and out of existence  

 

Touching you – you holding me 

Bathed in fire’s dolor pool 

Breathing on my wet skin 

I dare not cool your soul 

 

I dare not stop my vision’s quest 

Nor wake to find you’re missing 

If dreaming brings your love to me 

I’ll never see the morning 

 

 

Jude Stringfellow 

February 15, 2021