Was down there yesterday. Everything decorated for the season... This morning, on the telly-phone, he didn't remember I was there yesterday... And yeah, he's got the look, all right... I said I'd been there. He said, 'You were with other people.' I said, 'We were in the smoking room, and there were two odd ladies in there, and you thought one of them was a man.' 'Oh... I forgot.' And then he cried. (That was actually funny, because the lady in question had hair that was so similar to his late Aunt Hildegards, I just corrected him, said, 'Peter, that's a woman. Think Hildegard.' And he busted up laughing.
It turned into a long day, as my ex-colleague Elke asked me to visit for the pre-horridays, and spent a few hours, and there were delicious cookies, and some nice chat about all sorts of things, and her mother is so genuinely nice and funny. Her mother and father have one half of the house, and she and her family the other... it's split, but each has their private sphere, and it can be seen often here, but I don't believe I've ever seen that arrangement in the US.
Elke's Mom had come over to say hello, asked if she could stay and chat a while, which sort of surprised me, as we had met under circumstances that were embarassing for me. (It was the night I was put in lock-down, and I needed to get word out that I was incommunicado, and her first question was, 'Can you please tell me what the hell is going ON here?' Not exactly the way you wanna meet someone's Mom... yeah, embarassing...)
After my day in Gamlitz, I actually wanted to unwind, and be engaging, and not be this depressive, pathetic person, and ask about how their horridays would be, and talk about anything, anything but Peter. But she wasn't having any. Uh-uh. She got right into it.
And as in any house in the countryside, and as in the US, everyone is in the kitchen, which is the most homey place in most houses. And Elke had told me that her mother had 'accompanied' HER father on the same journey Peter is on, so she had very direct, and very kind questions, drawing me out.
As I've often said, the first thing I look at with people are the eyes. And saw kindness, and concern, and interest. So that was the first topic. I showed her the above photo, which looks nicer on the camera screen, and she said, 'Oh, he's very handsome. How old is he?' Bowled me over inside.
Not that it's unusual here. People know, you don't have to go around trumpeting anything out, and fight like Don Quixote going after the windmills. It is never up for discussion, people accept others' relationships, but they take interest if things go very well, or maybe bad, and are basically non-judgemental. It was like having a nice warm bath of care and concern.
And then we got into local politics... because the post office is cutting back and closing down post offices all over the place. My bus stop is at the post office in Gamlitz, and as of yesterday, it is defunct. The post office also has a bank function, and people pick up their pensions there. So on the way down, my hippie chauffeur dropped a woman off at the school stop, and this guy comes up with a thick slavic accent, and asked him where and when he could get a bus to Leibnitz. And my guy says, 'Five to one, across' the street.' Whereupon followed a sort of 'Who's on First' routine that had me in inner hilarity. Till the Slav guy says, 'OH, you mean 12:55?' 'Right. And just so you know... in southern Stryia, we say 'half-one' for 12:30.' I bit my knuckles to keep from laughing outright.
Well, the closure is sort of devastating for the village. They closed down the post office in Wagna next to Leibnitz as well. And got 'partners' so you can pick up your post packages at gas stations and grocery stores. (Is this beginning to sound somehow familiar?) But not your pension. So they have to go to Leibnitz. Now what happens to the old and handicapped who can't afford to go the 36 kilometers to get their check? They can have it sent on to their lockal bank... for a fee. (Getting MORE familiar?)
So the closures were a topic, and I told them about a woman in the smoking room, who Peter thought was a guy, and she was going on, she's one sour lady... 'Typical politicians, election time "Wau, Wau, WAU!" (dog barking) And after? NOTHING!'
Elke's Mom burst out laughing over that. And then we went over media, and my fascination with US politics, and I explained that I mostly watch... because we're gonna get the same in a somewhat weakened form. They're already cutting some medicines which have to be paid in full, the expensive ones.
Heard a lot about that down there as well.
And they understood that as well. And we really got going on the cuts here. This recession is a bitch.
Elke's Mom had to leave for her 'prayer meeting' at the church. (RC) I think she goes for the company, and probably just some good dish. Her humour is just too mischievous. She was gracious, and very kind.
Her father is a mystery. And I KNOW he doesn't like me. Oh he's polite, but he goes and hides. But not alone. As soon as I show up, he drags his son-in-law out of the house, some sort of chore to be done, they are always renovating and improving. It happened in autumn, and again yesterday... so pressing hey, and the devil or 'the Krampus is there'. Her husband kept popping in and out of the kitchen after that listening, grinning at some of our stuff, but he is a quiet guy, handsome, and he and Elke really fit. He must have been a stunner. But am so beyond that.
Before we knew it, three hours flew by, and I had to get my connection, and they drove me to Kaindorf next door, because the train station in Leibnitz is a huge construction site.... at least they still believe in infrastructure here. And the STAIRS, I get vertigo, like panic attacks in Leibnitz, just to get out of there.
Kaindorf is 'safe'. Nice and solid, you go down some stairs and through a passageway, and up another, and whaddaya know... five minutes later the train came and whisked me back to Graz.
And when I got out of the car, it was the usual 'Happy Holidays' thing, wishing good things, and 'Thank yous' for the invite and hospitality... And Elke's husband said, 'Thank you for coming to visit.' And it was honestly meant.
So I guess that was my Christmas.... early.
It felt very very nice.
Admin in Gamlitz... ok, they were good, concerned, and ok with everything.
But I will NOT get maudlin, and into the spirit. Basta. On the other hand... it was good.
Hmmmm.... Gamlitz and Leibnitz
I am a TERRIBLE person....
I am... I think I told the story of the paper route, with lots of elderly people, and how they would get excited at Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, right? And no one would come?
I would be so angry, and this week, I became one of THEM. The no-shows. I just felt so sick all week. Passing blood, I hardly left the house. A couple of classic asthma attacks, which made me throw up. But it is no EXCUSE, for cripes sake... I was just worn OUT, hey.
Over the past fifteen years, I have done more visiting various hospitals than I wish to count. Or ever would have anticipated. And that is one HARD thing to do over a long period of time.
I got even WORSE. I didn't even CALL the past two days. He doesn't have a stationary phone, and the nurses' station brings him their cell phone, and I have to keep it short. Peter never has much to say, but at least I can gauge how he is by hearing him.... Some days, I don't even want to know....
Yeah, that bad. But at least he is happy to hear me.....
He was really happy to hear me today. And wants to see me tomorrow. So I am REALLY going to have to go there. Because I don't want to be one of 'THEM'.
The thing is... I really, REALLY hate the hospital he is in. I don't like ANY hospitals, but I really despise this one. And I've seen many. Unfortunately.
And... there are things going on in the background. I broke with someone I thought was a long-time friend. Someone who had become a callous, unfeeling person.
The NICE thing about having a 'Venerable' is their philosophical take on things. He knew the person in question. And was a bit shocked about how he changed over the decades. 'Venerables' are invaluable for good advice.
And I felt, gawwd, am I blessed.
And I'm not even religious.
Otherwise, I have been distracting myself with his Soap and mine. Just to avoid looking at reality for a bit, I've NEEDED a break.
Both are hitting dramatic climaxes this week, so it is FUN. Something I nearly forgot the definition of.... We get INTO discussing who's hawt, who's not. He can go into rhapsodies over Samantha and Chloe at his place. Hot.
I get more diffuse. I like EJ, slimy as he is, a very bad boy, and Daniel on his, but I like Blair on my Soap, and think SHE is hot. And James on mine.
I have the feeling I am really confusing him. You would think I am a sneakret bi-sexual, but no way. Gay to stay. Doesn't mean I don't LIKE women....
Ok, am deflecting again. Sorry... I don't like thinking about some things at the moment.
So thank Gawwd---- whoever she is, for Venerables, who play along, and give you just a moment to back away, and not face something that you do not think you can face any more, after a long time of doing just that... facing facts, and all the horrible, terrible things that people can go through.
That is very awesome.
It didn't work. And how you sometimes have to grovel...
Called the Spital... to tell him it was tomorrow.
Punch to the gut, hey. What sounded ok yesterday, didn't sound ok today.
Listen: I had no reason to be alarmist till now. Yesterday the voice was half-way back, he laughed... and I thought, 'ok, that is good...' Today was 'different'. And suspiciously, there was no noise. In that hospital, the wards usually hold six patients. So there is some background noise. So I asked, 'Errm, how many patients are in your room?' And he said, 'It's a single.' And all I could HEAR in the background was this whispering sound. I recognised it from watching 'da soaps'. It was a respirator.
And he said it was 'pretty bad'.
Oh, I could curse, and be SO FUCKING ANGRY right now, I could choke.
Listen: You do NOT get a single room in a county hospital if it isn't dire. You do not. And that whispering noise.... oh. my. gawwd. And I'm not THERE.
And there he was, trying to calm ME down... the idjit. He didn't TELL me, but I KNOW.
He was so tired out, he didn't wanna talk long.
Owwwww... Weh...
That is when I started crying. Not histrionic. My eyes started to 'sweat', my nose got congested, and it hasn't really stopped.
This is SO frustrating, I can't even begin to describe anything.
It is 'Can I Get There in Time? Can I BE there, and hold his hand if this is the final act?'
I don't wanna it to be like San Diego, where I couldn't get there, and just lose a big part of my life without saying goodbye.
I am so upset with D. For a former nurse, her empathy level is nil, but most of them have that wall built up so as not to get hurt.
I don't care HOW I get there. That is grovelling....
Yeah, I went off the charts... who wouldn't? And visited a neighbor whom I can hardly stomach, because he has a printer, and I do not, and asked him if I could have one copy of 'The Venerable' so that I can brag about him out on the square... The V is legendary here, and I never had a good one to show.
It kept me from going really ballistic, and maybe going to jail.
For getting violent.
My neighbor offered to lend me the money to get to Wagna. Which would have been ok, coming from someone else.... I'd rather eat dog doo than accept anything him, the printing of the foto was humiliation enough.
And just to distract myself... you really should have seen Rachel Maddow last night. From New Orleans. Five years after, but it was so incisive, and made my eyes sweat. Because it wasn't about 'then', but about now.
I had just met one of the dearest friends I have ever had, a bit before. Someone whom I have come to love. So when I watch GOOD reporting, my eyes sweat. Someone should DO something about carbon emissions. We Oldies get 'algerisch', which means 'Algerian' to it. It was a long in-joke between Peter and me.
I hope we get to share that one more time.....
Yesterday, was on safari.....
It was my Gamitz day. Peter was looking nice but didn't feel well at all, it was hot and humid. A 'threat' of thunderstorm in the air....
The town is in the hot phase of being the best-flowered town in all the region, and it is beautiful. (It's a competition, and they win often....) Although the cornfields round about do not look well, and the husks are brown for dying... Too little rain....
And I stopped on my way back to visit for a couple of hours with two of the nicest people I know. Meet my ex-colleague Elke and her husband. I love this photo, because it was more or less a snapshot, just before we left so I could get my train. I guess I found the moment, because that is who they are. Gerhard's arm is still bandaged because he was coming home on his small motorcycle, and grazed a wall in an underpass not far away. We followed the way from the chaos at the train station to her house, and she showed me the trail of blood, 'that ate into the asphalt.' Austrians are very cool, they just shuck it off as if nothing happened. Annnd, I did what Austrians, do and said, 'What the HELL have YOU been up to?' They say that when misfortune befalls you, believe me, have been there often enough on the receiving end.... Just look at their eyes..... to drown in. Blogger isn't letting me format this as I would wish, but in this case, you take what you can get. It was like getting something soothing after a sunburn. Enjoy. Because it wasn't posed. They are off for vacation on Sunday.
Now I feel a bit better....
I called in some vitamin C, got called an 'obtuse boy' today, and the truth can hurt, but it was correct enough. I keep trying to think going around four corners, taking the off exit instead of the on ramp sometimes....ignore the solution that is obvious, and land myself in trouble.
Actually, with vitamin C, I mean 'connections'. Actually, it is vitamin B in German. For Beziehungen, which means connections. So, am I being linear here? I called in a favour. A very big one. It's half-way elegant. I don't get directly involved in all this shit, he doesn't get directly involved, and maybe the problem gets solved.
We have a saying that a mill-stone just fell off your chest. Which means a burden is gone. That just happened....
Listen... I HATE imposing on a friend. I would rather eat dirt and die than do that. But sometimes.... if there is some way you can set wheels in motion and no one gets hurt except the perps, that's worth it.
And that is a relief.... I will not go into it here. But am relieved. Something will come of it, am sure. And then I won''t be 'the crazy one' any more, which would be nice.... Now all I can do is hope.
I have great confidence in my friend's abilities. It will be ok... am sure of it. So obvious....
and better than running around arse over tea-kettle and getting in more trouble, believe me...
There are days you should just NOT get up.....
Yesterday was a classic. Yup. I conducted a series of telephone calls, and learned some cold hard truths. As in: I do not have any friends here. Isn't that a kick in the ass...
A lesson in semantics: there is a word for friend. Most people have a select few whom they can depend on. All the rest are 'acquaintances'. So I am an acquaintance. If I visit, they like my company, but that is all.
The coldest, hardest conversation was just about that, and was explained in one of the crassest ways I have ever experienced. But it boiled down to that. I'm an acquaintance, but I am not a friend. Explicitly said. With the addendum, 'I would hate to be you.' It was like being in an ice storm, yet so calmly said, and brutal. Hard truths can be like that.
The other conversations weren't so 'fun'. Circumspect, but it was the same message underlying them. The reason for the calls was actually trying to do some good. I wanted to offer some things Peter has before his place gets gutted next month, and would rather see someone have things for free than have the State take them....
No takers, so I guess it will be just gone, without anyone knowing that it all meant something once.
It's sort of funny, you know? I grew up 'poor', but never felt like that. And when people were getting started, family and friends came around, and gave them the necessities like a chair,a stool, a table... whatever, and helped out. Seemingly, that isn't necessary among the people I know. I guess I was doing a throw-back to what I grew up with, and wanted to pass it on. It wasn't appreciated.
The photo is of some irises I saw on Tuesday. Tried out the macro setting. I had some in my garden for two years, but I didn't like them so much. The blooming time is very short, and then you just get this salad greens and they look like weeds, or something. (shrugs)
This is getting a jump-start on things...
But is for the Venerable, before everyone goes crazy, and make a huge fuss... which you should have every day, if I had my way....
People were asking me what you would like best for your cradle fest, you know? I couldn't come up with much, I've said pretty much everything I think and feel... (whether you probably didn't like some of it...) but you were always there. Solid, loving.
On my way to the market this morning, I remembered something. Bob visited us in the Mühlgasse for a week, and we would have marathon night talks, and he said something that absolutely floored me, and still does. And he was looking at our 'fabulous' kitchen, (and our best discussions were in the kitchen, kitchens seem to do that...)....
And out of the blue, he said, 'Gawwd, when I think of Middle Street, and how poor you all were....'
I was astounded, CONfounded, and so speechless, I couldn't formulate a reply. Just couldn't. It was like having a fun-house mirror held up to you, and you couldn't recognise yourself. And I thought, 'WHAAA?' I was rich!'
Money never meant anything to me, and if I had some, would share the joy... I guess he never understood.
'Things' are never important. We had a roof over our heads, and there was food on the table every day, and you worked your ass off to make sure it was. Sure, there was never extra for 'firlefanz', German for frivolous things, but we got so much more.
Values, learning to work for our goals, support, and above all, love. How much richer can you get, hey.... So... you gave me more riches than anyone ever will, and I would kill anyone who would say otherwise.
You know that there are an awful lot of people out there who mess up their children, sometimes purposely, sometimes unwittingly.
So for my part, Dad... you made me richer than imagination could ever conjure up. So for your 'big' day, just another opportunity to say 'thank you so much'. And I can not think of anyone I would rather have as 'Venerable Parent'.
So, enjoy that day. You are unbelieveably wonderful, always will be.
And now that I have done my mash post... will find something 'racy' to send you on the real day. Except I think Annti will out-do me.... I'd check that post on that day, or get a check-up before you open it. (smile).
Again, this is five days early... but wanted a word before the hoopla begins. And know that I love you muchly, Venerable....
Am still trying to process....
this feeling of great loss, and the two posts below were my surfing the internets and trying to avoid crying. John gave me Phoebe Snow's album that this was originally on, just before I left the US for good. He knew that I loved that song, and it wasn't about relationships for me. It was about gathering up my courage, and moving on. (And no... we were friends, we were never intimate in a physical way. I think we were both afraid that it would ruin the rapport we had, but we cared very much for one another.)
So, John, you've released a flood of memories this past night. If you were still on the planet, I would throttle and shake you, am so angry. You just don't up and leave without a word, you know.... That was unlike you, you were kind and very thoughtful. I should have tried harder to reach you, but got side-tracked. And am so sorry. And thank you...
But I do regret. Be at peace....
And you were my 'poetry man', so here's something for you.
If you want to make God laugh....
Tell him or her or whatever that you are content. And then you get the double-whammy, yup.
I read that somewhere on the internets yesterday.....
This is in memoriam for one of the best friends I have ever had. It is a re-post, but was written for him at the time, and was about being far away and missing his company.
Nights in the Saline Puppy
The Saline Puppy was a counter-culture haven
in the age of Narcissus, home to the craven.
First bar with genuine barn-board panels
And Tiffany lamps and teevee with ten channels.
There we drank the nights away
and we found so MUCH to say...
And plaid-shirted students dressed in farmer-johnny jeans
Solved the world's weighty problems while philosophers dreamed.
Rowdies with a buzz on tossed down their drinks
maintaining nothing mattered;
they were too burned out to think
And their eyes undressed each girl
in the crowd's unending swirl.
The nectar of the gods, came in pitchers---(dark and light)
Served by liberated ladies, bitter girls who'd bite
with a word or action. They'd no self trust,
Repressed sexuality, believed life was a bust.
Phoebe Snow sang 'No Regrets'.
and we took what we could get.
What wouldn't I give for another round
in that smoky room, watching the sights;
lost in discussion and your laugh would sound
when the talk became raucous
round about midnight.
And Robbie, Carl and Terry would join us now and then.
And the terms coined (love muscle?) Terry'd goose the men.
And the muscle bound bouncers, self-labelled Jocks
chatted with the husband-hunters--Liberation talk.
And we like to be alone,
but can't seem to stay at home..
Sitting at the bar with question-mark shaped posture,
menopausal salesmen debated on the cost or
better said 'investment' of one long-drink
for the young thing beside him, who ignored lewd wink.
And they both went home alone,
disappointed, hearts of stone.
Like the mailmen of old, we showed up in rain and sleet
And we quickly found a place where the heater warmed our feet.
And we analysed and we criticised.
And although the hours flew, we never grew too wise....
It was an uncertain time.
Done and gone with, but that's fine...
What wouldn't I give for another round,
to see how we and the world may have changed.
Or maybe to laugh and discuss and expound;
and to question our fates, so opaque and so strange.
The term 'Saline Puppy' was my late friend's transcription for 'Salty Dog', and it was a real place. And when our cinema business was going down the tubes, we would go there practically every evening and commiserate, and try to figure out what was coming next. We didn't own it, only worked there, but it was all ennervating.
We were very close friends, and when I wrote it, I had been in Austria a year or so, and felt homesick for his company, his humour, and his 'being there', and I was always there for him as well. He was a miserable correspondent.
I would call him on St. Patrick's Day, and we would laugh about a million things, and there was much warmth, and re-connecting was never an issue. There was always a bond there. Friendship I wish everyone could have once in their lives.
Tonight I learned that he has been dead for a few years now. (I kept wondering why he didn't answer the phone... being an idjit.) Last I heard, he was sad, and never laughed any more. Word is... he committed suicide.
Y'know... you carry them in your heart and mind, and all is well... till you find they left the planet, and you are never gonna commiserate about the bad things, or celebrate the good things with them ever again. And all I can think right now is: 'That really SUCKS, John. Not even a postcard? Not even a call to ask for help? What the fuck-hell were you thinking, hey...'
Sorry, fresh grief here of the worst sort there can be. Only two hours old.
But then I think... be at peace, wherever you are, John R. And watch out for my Mom... she still thinks you're the 'black Santa Claus'.
And are you getting your belly-laugh now, God? Good ploy.
Ya know... it really is ironic.... and saddening...
That things never are what you thought they would be...
I was 'talking' with Peter's Aunt last night. She is 90 years old, lives in Frankfurt, but Peter is her favorite nephew, and she mails me to ask what is happening. Her husband died slowly, and had dementia at the end...
She tells me things that can make it easier for everyone around.
And she loved him muchly.
So... I want to THANK everyone, who responded to the posts down below privately via e-mail to me. All friends, and one special relative.
They were immediately THERE.
And that was wonderful.
Their moral support and prayers were something I could lean on, and sometimes you lean on something when everything around you crumbles.
Thank you all...
Even in 'virtual', kind words mean much.
What hurts is the non-reaction of people who have been here... and not one word.
No matter what you all thought... well, I just do not want to go there right now.
You think you can count on someone, and they seem to turn away.
Doesn't reflect well on me, now does it.... I must be really horrible....
YES, I am so angry, I could go out and punch someone in the face.
And I wouldn't CARE if I got knocked out.
That is what you all did to me in one way or another... ignoring, being denigrating, being absolutely ignorant of what was happening. And I am no better for not having explained it because those were different times, so am also culpable....
So bring it on...
I ended the post with a saying we have here: 'You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family.'
Good on them...
And bless my friends....
Wow.... oh just wow....
Y'know... people often ask me why I never go to 'Murka. It's a valid question...
And I look at them askew, and think, 'You HAVE to be kidding me, right? ME... in 'Murka'. Uh-huh....
Yesterday... I mailed 'The Venerable', and explained that it was Annti who found out where he was. And why, without going into much detail. No one knew where he was, whom I knew... And I was not about to cross verbal swords with the one person who did and seemingly despises me, not just from the past weeks, but over decades.
And what did I fucking get for an answer? 'GET OVER IT' (fa chrissakes... not said, but I know he was thinking it...)
And that no one hates me... (uh-HUH...) And I should stop trash-talking about my family.
(Oooo... he saw 'the post'. I got some grief about that one, my only slip-up. The writer would have preferred it not to be gender-specific.)
Listen... when someone really, really goes after you in a time of extreme stress, and is insulting, denigrating, and hateful... you fight back, and all I have is words.
Except for that one slip-up, I have never had one negative thing to say on this piece of insignificance about family, or friends. You'd have to stab me for that to happen.... But I did feel stabbed that day. In the heart.
And a mess of people do not 'get' it.... really not.
In my youth, I have seen hateful, very hateful things happen. Like a first cousin of mine being thrown out on the streets when he was only sixteen, because his parents caught him in flagranti with a 'friend'. He was a good kid. Really.
I hope he is still alive today...
Everyone seems to go on and pretend they are sooo liberal, or sooo understanding, but they don't understand SHIT.
And I am too bloody old to face that sort of denial, and hatefulness....
It is why I can go off the charts for anger about many things.....
This week's theme is seemingly gonna be about racist remarks on MSNBC. Well, not surprising....
EVERYBODY 'profiles' everyone they see on any given street. No matter where.
And part of that 'profiling' is discerning if you are gay or straight.
I have never gotten anything hateful about the latter.... where I live....
And whether The Venerable likes it or not.... I have NEVER been so insulted, humiliated, denigrated anywhere as in the town I grew up in, and if he doesn't recognise hate when he sees it... then I am very very sorry.
So when I get asked why I never go there any more... I ask 'Whaaa? You're joking, right? Right?'
I am so relieved....
'The Venerable' (aka my father) came home today, and immediately mailed.
I 'think' he is still 'in transit'. Before getting a new place, where everything is on one floor, and good for anyone handicapped. I won't really be at ease till I know that happens, and have nightmares about those friggin' stairs he has to use to get to the WC.
I keep imagining it will be like something Peter has. I would hope so... light and airy, and easy to get around in.
And to think I was so angry this afternoon... Oh yes, I certainly was. Had a very trying morning, was finally home and it was snowing up a storm. We all know how much I 'love' that....
And I put my key into the lock in the door to the square, turned it.... and it broke, leaving the shaft in the lock.
Which meant going three blocks to enter my house 'the back way'. And I had thought, 'oh yeah, THIS is NOT gonna be a good year...'
Well, Preciousses, it usually comes down to perspective in the end, I guess...
About two hours later... I had MAIL. Just a couple of lines. But it was good to know that 'The Venerable' is back in his own space, and ok.
What could be better than that?
A matter of perspective, see?
Sometimes I think we get blinded by little irritating things in our lives, and can miss what is most valuable.
Oh, that sounds so trite and superficial.... but I do think it is true...
This is for a friend
A friend of mine has written me some heart-warming e-mails lately. Friends are the ones who promise you they will be there if there is trouble.
And he said something that floored me recently about his visit here. But the one thing he didn't know, that on one of the most important days here, my plans went a bit awry....
We were in Vienna, and I wanted to take him to see the musical Elisabeth. Some in my family know what THAT is about... August is vacation month, so the only game in town was 'The Beauty and The Beast'. It had the incredible late Steve Barton from Long Island in it, which made it worthwhile.... But that is another story....
So Yahoo has been acting up, and I couldn't embed the YouTube link into my post without losing all the text beforehand.
My friend... this is what I meant....
Fuckin' ey....
Was up half the night writing e-mails to people who are in trouble and offering whatever paltry help I can give them....
(Yes it is Advent, but I do it all year round, because that is how I was brought up.)
Peter called me at seven. Said he was gonna go back and sleep a while. And I said, 'So am I'. Sounded ok, as usual....
And then he just woke me up again. It was like speaking with Joanne Woodward in 'The Three Faces of Eve'. Confused. Whining. Said he had fallen out of bed 'last night', and his bum hurt. It was fucking terrifying.
I feel so spent of energy, all there is is emptiness inside at the moment.
I am not a complainer, and I knew this day was coming since my birthday. And what makes me into a vertiable Rumpelstilskin is... I have no 'authoritay' to get his sore arse into a hospital where it belongs. It isn't as if I wish it, but he belonged there weeks ago.
Except I have no say....
Y'know.... I keep reading all this 'stuff' about 'marriage', and gay rights, and gawwd knows what, and that is fine and good.... for me at least. People are out there and fighting, and that is good to know if you grew up being made to feel 'different', and alone, and put down.
But it isn't going to HAPPEN.
Not in my life-time, and I would like to bitch-slap some folks and tell them to fucking grow up, get a life, and not be so bored they bother with what YOU do.
At the moment, I am so fucking frustrated, am about to rip myself into two pieces.
So I will go down there and hope, really hope, that he will be so badly off I can call 144. The Waaahmbulance. That is the only hope I have at the moment. And the only right.
Think about that the next time this 'stuff' comes up on your voting list.
And to reiterate... I have NEVER wanted to be gay-married.
But when it comes to life decisions, and you have been with someone over three decades, you should have a say.
And make some good decisions.
gawwd knows I have tried to do that....
Within what the existing laws permitted me to do.
And if he was cogent enough to comply...
Now??? I'm between a rock and a very hard place, as they say here.
After all the drama regarding my father and family.... yeah, I really, really NEED this.
But taking a lesson... my father never has complained about anything, so I should shut my mouf, and just go on.
If it is bad, it can really bad. If it is good.... you can share... Got it? Tja----
Ummm... I have been 'thinking'... whiich is always a dangerous sign...
I had an uncle once, who went deaf. He loved music. He had a horrible colon cancer, and had to get a side-ways exit. And his sister took him in, gave him a room in her own appartment, and I am sure that couldn't have been very easy for her. And my aunt had her mother there too... it was a big appartment. She lived to be over one hundred years old.
When I came to Austria.... it wasn't much different. A wonderful family 'took me in', and I learned what it is to be a family.
Things weren't perfect on any side of the pond, in other words...
But... despite the fact that my friend's sister got pregnant before I arrived, and didn't like the guy who got her into it, and they were very religious, but not in the bigotted sense, she stayed, and she and her son were accepted. So the house was full, and it wasn't a big house, belive me. We would go out with the baby, and everyone was watching, thinking I was the 'culprit'. The curtains moved all the time, you xee... It caused us much hilarity.
And! They had a dreaded aunt, who had an acid tongue, and they made a beautiful little appartment across the way over the barn for her. No, not smelly, barn smell... just very nice.... And she could be nasty, but they put up with it and still loved her.
And I thought, 'Wow! Just wow!'
I know this sounds silly....
But that is why I fell in love with where I am.
Things changed over the decades. Three generations of families no not live under the same roof any more, but it used to be like that.
It all just became avarice, greed, and 'get out of my face'.
Sad.
And now we come to the 'hard' question.
We weren't so different way back when. Really not.
Everyone was up for helping one another, and gawwd, the Mills, and all that stuff, but they helped where they could.
And I can't help thinking... what happened to all of that?
Is it the times we live in, is it just being so self-absorbed we don't even NOTICE?
Ok, I don't have doodly-squat anymore.
If I were in the Mühlgassse still, I would whisk my father over here and make sure he got the best care EVAH.
BUT...
My sibs were more successful, and acheived some little McMansions. How nice. Am not envious.
BUT...
If the plan is to put him on a one-floor appartment is the plan...
there has to be some re-thinking....
I cannot fathom this, I just can not.
How, please, can anyone be so fucking self-absorbed, you ignore what is obvious???
Excuse me for going ON....
Everything about this is supposedly about being 'Christian'.
All I see is selfishnis and greed.
So... after being ill all day, and figuring the time differences...
I was again able to talk to my father today.
Thanks to a wonderful friend.
I usually never get so emotional, but he isn't the father I had five weeks ago.
I DO call, y'know.
There was so much in there... I don't want to get into it right now, I just do not. At least I stopped crying, so that is a good sign, .....maybe.
I'm a rational human being, and have 'some' edumacation... however...
You put a 94 year old man into full narcosis, he is NOT going to be who you knew.
And yes, I expected that....
Oh, he's fine... nothing to complain about. But not who he was.
The fucking HAMMER was.... my Aunt is in the same place. She has Alzheimer's, just like her sister, my step-mother. She has a separate apartment, and everything, but nothing to cook with, because... they forget and could burn the house down.
But she visits him on her good days.
She was always one of my favorite relatives. The first birthday cake I ever had was from her. It was a carousel, and I was fascinated. I was eight years old.
We met in Munich just after I got here, and had a wonderful time.
So THAT knocked me on my ass...
I do not know what else to say at the moment.
Other than to thank my friends for being so supportive, and I love them very much.
It has taken two weeks....
To find out where my white-bread famly put my father.
Fortunately, I have some friends, still.
You know, the ones who like you, and whom you can fight with over insignificant things.
Seems important at the time, but you go off the charts for whatever, and you can still remain friends.
And if you get into whatever trouble, your friends are there, not your family which is sort of like NATO vs, the UN. They are there.
And go to any lengths to help you, because they love you.
Tonight, someone I love very much, went off the charts, and found out where my father is. Because she has been e-mailing him on and off for quite a while now.
(She can master the internets like no one I know...)
She spoke with him for the first time, and was a bit 'off-put'... 'You didn't tell me he was stone deaf...' Well, he only puts his hearing aids in to hear what he wants to.
But... he delighted her with how he only gets the prettiest nurses, and gets to feel them up, or something. Incorrigable rascal....
So... what is family?
You would 'think' that your family is the pillar of love and support and the column on which you build your life. Because that is what we are taught.
Families ar so complex, and so difficult, if you aren't in the mold, you do not belong.
It always comes down to 'extended' families, the ones you rely on, and are your friends.
I don't care any more about all the 'Family' bullshit.
Your friends pull you through.
I just do not know....
Oh yeah, we want to keep up the fucking good cheer because, hey, it is the horriday season.
Y'know... 'fambly'... cosy wonderful feelings and KKKristian beliefs, and people telling you one thing to your face, and then edging the knife in if you hug them.
Advent!!!! How 'acceptable', how wonderful.... Y'know... people never seem to accept anybody really... (this is not an attack, btw). They made that one clear to me when I was five years old, and a very evil great Aunt of mine said, 'Dick, he runs like a girll! It was the first time I was made to be self-conscious of myself, and monitor every move I made. Yeah.... family...acceptance.
They just do not. You can stand on your head in your clown suit and juggle at the same time, but if it isn't the right mix.... they'll knock you over.
Fambly... you depend on them to keep you up to date, and if there is trouble, and you are far away, you call... that is how I was brought up. And you offer your moral support, and let them know you care....
I have always done that, always, even if I didn't have hardly two dimes to rub together. Because that is what you do, and that is what 'fambly' is.... You offer support, even if it is only on the phone if you are far away....
Except I am stupid. Truly, actually, I am stupid.... no one, NO ONE, has ever called ME.
It sort of reminds me of my beloved step-mother Lillian getting irritated with me and yelling, 'Just because you go to college, don't think you're smart! And in many ways... she was right.
When your family doesn't respond when YOU get hurt....
It fucking hurts so bad it is like getting knifed in the stomach.
I truly do not understand what the problem is. I do not. Because I am who I am? It has never made sense to me.
But for people to deprive me of contact, and to speak with my father, and not tell me where he is...
Is cruel, unjust, and unconsciounable.
Hooray, hooray....
Yes, it is my birfday for the sixtieth time...
And to make it extra super special....
Peter just called to ask if I were going to come by or not.
I just got BACK from there! He didn't fucking remember. I said, 'go look in the kitchen, there is still a piece of cake for you there, (which I normally never give him), and reminded him we had watched The Colbert Report on the pc, which was unusually good yesterday.
And wanted to triumphantly tell me that our GP was there, and not in New Yawk. That will be NEXT week. Whereupon he threatened him with another stroke if he doesn't DO something....
What a present....
But I did get one nice present. The woman who trashed Peter in the supermarket a week or so ago was on the bus today when I was on my way home came and sat next to me, although there were plenty of other free seats around. And she said, 'Excuse me, but I really have to apologise to you for what I said.' And I started shaking my head 'no', and patted her arm on her coat sleeve, and said, 'Please do not do that. I understand.' We made a bit of small talk, then she moved on, and I think she was relieved that I was not the protective monster she thought I was. She is just an old woman, has her predjudices and perceptions, but it was really big of her to do that.
I couldn't think of a nicer birfday present. Really. Gave me an inch of faith in humanity again....
Ok, ok... that sounds 'maudlin'. But it was unexpected, and thus a gift.
I wish to thank Annti for being the very first in my mail this morning at 4 a.m. (yeah, I'm a walking zombie in the wee hours...), and even mentioning me on her blog with kind words in her December birfday posts. We're both kinda stubborn, and the past few months, I was often not very nice, for which I am sorry. Stress can be a friendship-killer, but even then, we seem to go beyond that, and that is a wonderful thing.
Whatever, it is going on 3 p.m. And it is already going twilight. Sooo... will grab a bite of something to eat, and then retire into my cocoon.
After I update my profile. Am now officially an 'oldie'.
'Parents are just people who
can often manage to mess things up. But children don't come with a user's manual either'
That quote comes from a very old friend of mine, and landed in my in-box last evening.
We lost sight of one another decades ago. And only recently began conversing again, which was very nice.
He felt constricted, as I did, but took a lot longer to get out of my home town. And came to Europe, so there are parallels there.
He's a gifted photographer and singer, and once away, promptly sired five children at an age when the young and the reckless usually become grandparents.
But those two sentences reminded me of how special he is. Succinct, to the point, and it rings true. It delighted me, to tell the truth....
And on that note... demand a user's manual for every child, unless you are wise....
