Marriage


ONE

Afraid of revealing me       the Essence of Me

Mother told me                  Boys won’t like it

Too smart                     Too aggressive

Too full of              Myself

Too serious             Too intense

Too adventuresome

Too nasty a temper

Too in love with Possibility

Too             Too         Too        Too       Too       Too

I took her advice

Married  a Genius Scientist

Safe                    Timid                 Disadventurous

He liked me because I could Shoot a

Bird off a Wire

a hundred feet away.

In time We All Died

Him             Me            the Bird

TWO

Last night I dreamed of him

Black velvet, young, strong, sexy, arrogant.

I had to have him!

This morning

I almost told our daughter.

Then I Remembered

It took nearly 31 years for me

to Learn

She has a sister only 3 months younger.

She told me.

He has never said a word.

THREE

I remember the time he touched my face, melting me.

I married him;

My face slowly, inexorably froze.

FOUR

I was a very good investment.

He consistently insulted my daughter.

We are ALIVE and HAPPY.

He’s DEAD.

The Land in Love with Guns


In the United States firearms kill approximately 15,000 individuals per year.  In Britain, Australia, and Canada, the average is 350 per year.  Spain’s rate is even lower.  In Germany, it is less than 800.  A young person here dies about every 4 ½ hours, shot dead.  The US murder rate is 19.5, nearly 20 times higher that the next 22 richest countries.  In the 23 richest countries combined, 80 percent of all gun related deaths are in the US; 87 percent of children killed are shot by guns here.  In the last 45 years, bullets killed more than one million people in the US.

Gun sales are big money.  More than a dozen hand guns are sold per minute.  One survey indicates that one out of every four US homes possess a gun; another survey says 39 percent.  However, most guns are owned by only a small proportion of the population, gun “collectors” who own an average of seven weapons per person.  Guns are cheap here and bullets even cheaper, about 50 cents each.  The Mexican government contends that our cheap guns help fuel the dreadful violence there which then overflows to here.

In spite of all this, the US murder rate is the lowest in more than 45 years.  The NRA claims more guns equal less violent crime.  The NRA contends that the lower crime rate is the result of less strict gun laws and more people owning guns.  Nevertheless, mass murder occurs on a regular basis.  We mourn, we lament, but nothing changes.

Eventually, another mass murder occurs and the cycle repeats itself.  Why?  Who or what is responsible?  What can be done?  Will more restrictive gun laws help or hinder?  Debates continue; opposing views and answers abound, but the cycle continues.  Will it ever change?

I wrote the above after the last mass murder event.  Nothing changed.  Now the conversation appears more strident, more active.  Apparently, the mass killing of children is more heinous, more scary than the mass murder of adults even if the adults are young.  The NRA advocates armed guards at schools.  How will that prevent mass killings at movie theaters, at malls, at churches, on the street, e.g. the three murders this week in Pennsylvania?

Australia was another country in love with guns, but after a mass killing there, they changed their collective mind.  They enacted strict gun control laws for assault weapons and ammunition.  Could that work here?  I think not.  This is a country in love with guns because the right to own a gun symbolizes  what is perceived as individual rights.  This is a country where personal liberty remains far more important than community safety and social justice.  Until that changes, mass murders will continue.

DEATH


I was afraid of revealing me, the essence of me.  Who even, indeed, was I?  My mother told me, when I started dating, to hide the essence of me, boys wouldn’t like it.  Too smart; too aggressive; too full of myself; too intense; too serious; too burning inside strong; too adventuresome; too nasty a temper; too full of desire to feel, taste, see, learn; too much in love with a world of possibility.  I took her advice, married a genius scientist, safe, timid, disadventurous.  He liked me because I could shoot a bird off a wire hundreds of feet away.  I time, we all died, him, me, the bird.

 

 

 

This piece was a finalist in a flash memoir contest.

This is how you…


In preschool I had a few duties I remember, well maybe not remember—this story is part of family lore so old I cannot remember whether I remember only the lore or the occurrence itself.  At four, one chore involved walking from the house, across the backyard, across the drive, past the rose garden, then on the path between the big white barn and the huge vegetable garden to the chicken house behind the barn.  Each evening I took this trip before dark and shut the hen house door so the raccoons, skunks, and possums could not get in and eat the hens.  One night I forgot.  The night was dark, moonless.  Dad ordered me to the hen house.  He handed me a flashlight.  I refused, terrified.  He tried talking; I refused.  He tried force; I refused.  My mom understood my terror and finally intervened.  She told Dad, “You had better never ever do anything like that again!”  He didn’t.

By twelve, the terror had changed to pleasure.  I knew how to walk through the woods in the dark without a flashlight.  I knew how to walk through the woods in the dark silently so I could hear the animal sounds.  I knew how to walk through the woods in the dark happy and alone, free.  I still like to walk in the dark.

At twelve, I knew how to load a 22 rifle, to shoot raccoons and rabbits on the run, to clean the rifle afterwards.

I knew how to practice the piano for two hours straight.

I knew how to sing in front of a crowd of people.

I knew how to sew blouses, skirts, and dresses all by myself even though my mom could only sew on buttons.

I knew how to make fancy bows for the Christmas presents.

I knew how to fry chicken almost as well as my mom:

-this is how to check for pin feathers

-this is how you fill the paper sack with flour and salt

-this is how you fill the skillet with just the right amount of oil

-this is how you take the pieces out of the sack and put them in the hot

oil

-this is when and how you turn the pieces

-this is how you know when they are done

-this is how you drain the pieces on paper towels so it won’t be too

greasy.

I have not made or eaten fried chicken in years.

From six until I earned my Ph.D., this is how you make straight A’s in school:

-get organized

-be determined

-fill your soul with drive.

It helps if you are smart.

This is how you meet your parents’ expectations:

-keep your room neat

-keep your room clean

-keep your room perfect

-complete chores on time

-complete chores perfectly

-complete chores cheerfully

-study hard

-complete all homework

-make perfect grades

-dress nicely

-dress modestly, but not too prim

-dress in clean underwear in case you get in a car wreck.

I still get straight A’s.  I still have an overdose of drive.  I still write, play the piano, cook, ride horses, and sing.

It helps if you are smart.

As a rancher years later, I learned how to work cattle without my father’s help:

-this is how you “cut” or “band” yearling bulls

-this is how you give shots

-this is how you brand

-this is how you drive cattle on horseback down a road full of traffic

-this is how you save a  newborn, freezing calf:

-be brave and get it away from its mother

-carry it into the house or pickup truck

-wipe it down with towels

-blow it dry with your hair dryer.

This is how you train a horse to send to the race track:

-teach it to lead as a baby

-handle it every day if possible

-pick up its feet repeatedly

-rub your hands all over its body, especially on sensitive spots

-brush and comb it

-after it is older, rub a saddle blanket all over it and flap it in the wind

-hang plastic bags on its corral

-jump around a lot and desensitize it

-when it is a long yearling, put a saddle on it

-put a bridle or hackamore on it

-get long lines

-string them through the stirrups and teach it to drive in a round pen

-teach it to stand still

-get a flat saddle

-get on and ride

-do not teach it to neck rein

-ride often but for short periods of time.

Today as a teacher:

-this is how you solve for X and Y

-this is how you solve quadratic equations

-this is how you solve exponent problems

-this is how you solve word problems

-this is how you rationalize radicals

-this is how you determine how many grams are in one mole of a

chemical compound

-this is how you balance chemical equations

-this is how you conjugate common Spanish verbs

-this is how you write a sentence in Spanish

-this is how you translate a Mexican folk tale

-this is the date of the Magna Carta, the….

-this is how you write an essay

-this is how you learn new words from the context

-this is how you read for layers of meaning

-this is how…

It helps if you are smart.