Of the many books read to me as a child, the one that stood out to me the most was “The Pokey Little Puppy.” The book was read to me countless times. Not because there were a shortage of books in my life. No, Mother was a book worm and an intellectual. She achieved no degree in her life. Born on Independence Day, 1927, just before the Great Depression on the bayou in Southeast Louisiana, she was tasked with raising a large family and being faithful to her husband until death and beyond. Mother read me this book about a little puppy that was slow, but in the end, he would win the day. “The Little Engine that Could” was another repeated favorite. These were books about continuing the fight until the end. Regardless of speed, if you work at something steadfast, your goal would be attained.
Father was trained as a diesel mechanic by the US Navy at the end of WW II. He extended his knowledge of mechanics to gasoline engines and managed to wrench out enough to carry us through life. Two parents working together against the needs of the world. Not always reaching the threshold of need vs. want, but always a continuance. Summer vacations were a must. Loading a caravan and heading to the Great Smokey Mountains, the Cascades, the Appalachians, the Rockies, Hurricane Ridge, Yoho, California, Georgia, and on and on. By the time I was an adult, Father managed to carry me to 44 of the 48 continental states, and several provinces. Oft I’ve wondered why. I believe the trips were to provide a non-tangible asset to our lives. Indeed, when I joined the military, it was an easy decision and I found it easy to thrive in the environment, for a while.
Missing, was food, compassion and understanding, acceptance and the installation of a life direction of which my body was capable and one mentally attainable. I grappled consistently with realism as a child. I consistently felt like I was living in a fairy tale. I was slow to the table. And when you are late to the table in a large, impoverished family, you get scraps. I have continued to live with scraps to this day. Uncomfortable with success, never would I display the awards on my walls, the refrigerator or the shelves. What was important was that God knew my deeds. No one ever told God about needing a resumé or curriculum vitae.
I was thin. My father was a man of muscle. Six of the 8 of us were female. My one brother got all the testosterone betwixt the two of us. The die were cast. I was effeminate. Homosexuality was accused, hurtfully by many of my closest family members. Conformity was not something that was every overtly inspired. To the contrary, freethinking was encouraged and portrayed a fun. Adding to my effeminacy were dance classes lead by one of my sisters at the local gym, music by her husband. More trophies for the closet and fuel for the accusations of cowardice and weakness. The Pokey Little Puppy.
Never once was I ever asked about my dreams. I didn’t know what they were. I consistently failed to prove my manliness. Nothing I ever did was worthy of anything other than fleeting praise. Attaining Best Overall in the seventh grade out of a group including child musicians from 5th through 8th grade beating out peers a year ahead meant nothing. Tenth grade would be the last grade I was in the school band. At the ninth grade, afterschool practices and performances were no longer on the bayou, but into town. Rides were needed and this required either a vehicle or a ride from home to town and back home. The yelling about this transportation only fueled my fear of my father. I was able to remain invisible until then. My immediately previous sisters and brothers were beaten. The yelling and the noise of life became too excessive. I needed to ask Father for a ride from the afterschool practices and to and from the performances, football games, parades and competitions. This is the same beast of a man bringing anger and fierceness into the household. There was only so much I could handle. I saw the genesis of a large amount of strife in daily life and the elimination of my band membership brought a rapid end to it all, with a loud bang. Father was exceedingly angry with me upon discovery. But, the confrontations ended. I was able to return to my invisible status.
I was free to Soldier On.