Here’s the next and final part of a true fiction-like-but-true story. (Part 1 and 2 are in my two prior posts.)

“I have no memories whatsoever of living with my own parents. They were divorced when I was two years old, neither ready for a baby. My dad’s main priority was drinking, my mom was escaping the drinking and the abuse. Which landed me thank God, in my grandparent’s house. My parents were still around at this point, mom still had legal custody of me. But my grandparents were the ones who got me off to school, made sure my homework was done, my clothes were clean, I never went hungry, and I always was tucked in at night.  My dad was supposed to get me on the weekends…but only after he would go out drinking with his buddies.  He would tell me “I’ll pick you up at 8:00 tonight,” and funny enough every time he said that Papaw would send me to bed about a half hour early, just so he could say, “She’s asleep, why don’t you pick her up tomorrow.”  I watched from the window a lot, my dad rarely showed up, but that was Papaw’s way of protecting me.

“He’d walked to work every day, and at 4:00 p.m. grandma and I would go pick him up and I would see him coming and run through the guard house to meet him, I think it was his too.  He loved that people thought I was his little girl, he ate that up.  We would go home and as soon as dinner and homework were done, he would take me to the park. Some of my favorite memories…a place where I take my nieces and nephews now.  He would play barbies, and dolls, and waitress with me for hours on end.  He used to read me a book every night before bed, but I always asked him to read chapters out of sequence so normally they never even made sense. All of this and so many other little details of my life changed when I was about to start 2nd grade.

“I went with my mom for a few days (she and my dad still had joint custody) but this time I didn’t come back when expected. I started my second grade year in Florida. I wasn’t allowed to have any contact with my dad, grandparents or anyone. I was 7 years old…I had no idea why, but I knew I was supposed to listen to my mom. So a year went by and I hadn’t seen the rest of my family. I hadn’t talked to them, they had no idea where I was. They didn’t know I was living with my mom and her 3rd husband at this point.

“One day I was sitting in class learning about Blue Whales, and I had this pretty blue dress on. I was a good student so when I was overlooked when they passed out honor roll pins I was sure that’s why they were calling me to the office.  So I took the long walk down the hallway (I even did a cartwheel cause I knew no one would catch me) into the principal’s office to find a policeman, a very large man in a suit, my principal, and my Papaw.  sitting on one knee crying and waiting to see how I would react. I jumped into his arms, so confused and scared by everything, but so happy to see him. I was sitting in the room when they called my mom to tell her they would be taking me back to Gallipolis right then. My goodbye to my mother was hearing her scream and cry over the phone for them not to take me. That was it. I walked outside to get in my Papaw’s car (without my pencil I might add) and in the back seat was a blanket, pillow, and my favorite baby doll that I hadn’t seen in so long. It was going to be a long trip. But the blanket and the pillow were a waste. Looking back, I stayed up every second of that trip talking to my grandpa, laughing and singing with him like no time had went by.

“After the winds had calmed a bit and the court told my mother that she could now only have visitation with me if she was monitored and she resided in Ohio, I didn’t see my mom for 4 years. My dad had sole custody of me, but I know now the only reason he even bothered was so he could hurt my mom. I was back where I belonged though…

“Papaw was the president of the athletic boosters, he never missed one of my games, gymnastic meets, cheerleading competitions, parent teacher conferences. Nothing. He was always there along with my grandma. He was my very best friend. And how many pre-teen girls would have said that. I was never ashamed of him, as most kids go through the stage where they are embarrassed by the parents…not me.  And he knew that. There are 5 other grandchildren besides me, one that Papaw had never met one who is too little to remember him. But this person I described to you is how we all see him.

“I was only 13 years old when I lost my best friend and father figure….He lost his daddy when he was 5 and his mom when he was 13. It’s so hard now to think about it because I see the hospital, and I see the tubes, and machines that were keeping him alive. He had a heart attack, and after the surgery he just never came out of it. I was allowed to go back and see him once before they turned off the machine. And he squeezed my hand, which was the only movement or response he had in days, or weeks (I can’t remember now). Everyone says that it was probably just a flinch, or a reaction, he didn’t really squeeze my hand. And they are probably right, but I like thinking that it did happen.

“Now I am 24 years old. I’ve graduated college. I have a good job….I realize this may all seem so useless to you, but when someone has impacted your life so much and someone who has never met him has negative thoughts about him, you want to do your best to bring out some positive. I pass Cheshire several times a week, and before your poem, I thought about the park, and where my house used to sit, and I thought about the places where I learned to ride my bike; since I read it I feel a little sick passing through…I wonder where, and who wrote that on there. I wonder if they have any idea that there is more to Sonny Smith than just a bald guy.  Thank you for your time, Krista.”

Continued from  last blog:

And then on Feb. 26, 2009, I responded to someone who wanted to communicate with me, on an early Blogspot site.   I wrote   “Hi. You visited my site?”

She had, and she wrote:

“Hello…

“My name is Krista Smith, and I just had something to share with you. You may not be interested at all, but I would just feel better telling you.

“One day, a few months ago I decided I would google my grandpa’s name, because you just never know what you’ll find.  For me, I found your site, that had a piece in a poem about my grandpa, or Pawpaw, as I call him.  Sonny Smith.  Of all the things in the world I imagined I’d find, that certainly wasn’t one of them.  For months I’ve thought about it and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I knew for sure that it was Pawpaw in your poem, because Cheshire is where I was raised, he was  bald, (even I didn’t know that until after he passed), he did wear a toupee, and even when I was younger I could tell he wasn’t well liked by everyone. He was the type of person that you either loved or you hated and that was that. In your poem you said you still drive through Cheshire and I hated the thought that the bald man that no one liked might be a thought in your head. So if you wouldn’t mind let me tell you my version of this man so that maybe the next time you drive through Cheshire you can think of him differently.  Jumping right in” ….(Continued in tomorrow’s  blog)

The folks in Cheshire, Ohio
are mostly strangers
as I drive (slowly) through
their small quiet village.
But on an old garage,
a deserted house and a
boarded-up bar,
red-writ letters blare
(along the main drag)
for all to see:
SONNY SMITH IS BALD.

Who is Sonny Smith and
is he really bald?
And who cared enough to
take the time and risk
to proclaim it to the world?

Knowing that my neighbor
is Cheshire-bred, I asked
her about Sonny, and this
is what she said:

“Sonny Smith has a son twenty-six
and yes he really is bald.
He wears a toupee every working day
to his job at the energy plant.
A tiff, and someone got galled.
It was somebody’s wife, a dame–
whatever–enough to defame
Sonny Smith’s name
all up and down Route Seven.”
My friend giggled. “Some folks
don’t like him much.”

I still drive through Cheshire,
and I still drive through slowly.
But now when I see Sonny’s name
I nod as in greeting to red-lettered
Sonny, roue in toupee,
whom I never met and never will and
wouldn’t know if I did.
(Such are our braided lives).

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Back in 1982 we lived in Gallipolis, Ohio, and I drove daily to my place of employment in Pomeroy, Ohio. I had joined a poetry writing group at the French Art Colony in Gallipolis, and as one meeting closed we decided that for our next meeting we would write a poem containing the words “such are our braided lives.”

And so I wrote the above poem and published it in an old Blogspot blog.  Perhaps you can imagine my surprise when, in 2009 I received the following e-mail, to be continued in  my next posting, on this blog.

https://www.instagram.com/elephantsofworld/p/DEppP6_Nlq0/?img_index=1

Well, the authors of 2025, I guess, but since I have a smidge of hope left, I much prefer to believe that the majority of Republicans are embarrassed at our president’s  bully boy antics  that make a mockery of democracy.  I firmly believe…hopefully…that there is still time and ways to smidge this travesty of justice.  The attached photo seems to touch the heartbeat of compassion, which I feel for all of us caught in this unanticipated spiders’ web.

WATCH for a true 4-part touching story on this blog coming together in the next day or two, thanks to Kristar.

My Country Tis of Thee,

I know what you used to be.

For that I mourn.

Land where the selfish breed

Blind to our fellow’s need

For thee I weep.

Land of our father’s pride

for whom many died

God help us.

     SHARING AND HONORING NATURE,,.LIVING AND LOVING

I was going to say Happy Valentine’s Day, but then remembered our president has ruled out all special days of the year.  Is it so workers won’t get a day off (means no pay) or was it only Martin Luther King’s Day?  President’s Day? Memorial Day? I can understand his not liking a day to honor our squadron of “losers” who died in wartime.  Easter Bunny?  Santa Claus–I can understand cancelling Christmas because you and me won’t have any money to spend, and I guess there’s going to be no Saint Nick, anyway.

Do you see the photo of one tree blooming in glory with 41 different kinds of fruit?  (I think  it’s different species but it’s getting late and I want to post this before what used to be a happy loving day expires (it’s after eleven now).  Why would the richest man in the world want more power and more money? To rule the universe with his interplanetary project?  Pardon my saying so, but I hope he runs into God out there.

Things are changing so fast in our government that most of us can’t keep up with them.  (And the white house is complaining about the nation’s well-trained journalists  for trying to keep the public up to date on what former liberties are being dessicated.  Are there more secrets to be kept from the public?  I can hardly imagine any more …is it insanity, a sad childhood, psychopathy, a trick being played on us, someone so spoiled that they don’t like others to feel good about themselves…or worse. You know what I mean.  I didn’t use to believe, but have to assume that the worst may now be walking the streets of our capitol. Fie, fie, sigh.)

OOPS!  11:53 p.m.  Was this our last Valentine’s Day?

Til tomorrow, if it rolls around.

SERIOUSLY,  the very many statements, actions, threats, choices and supposedly pro-American (at least pro-USA)  moves from the new presidential regime  signals a route for the U.S., our country and democracy to fail, even before climate change.  What  is the target they’re aiming at?

Must be with another goal in mind than liberty and justice for all.  And it appears to be a failed government to be replaced by…what?  Communism? Socialism?  An old-fashioned  feudal system run by one man and a huge dungeon?  Better yet, King.  And as the Lord of All, it may include the planetary system, or in someone’s madness, the Universe!

Sounds a little crazy, doesn’t it?  That’s what I’m saying: it is crazy and with patriots selling us out, either for their cut or  due to private derangement,  the dragon appears already half-grown and half as powerful (if only that).  Time for tut-tutting is fleeing.  Today I cannot attempt to put the demonized jig saw puzzle together, just blow my  own little tin whistle in hopes many others are sufficiently concerned to act.  (And by that I don’t mean killing our neighbors, or seceding from the union.)

It may very well be a weakness of mine, but in my heart of hearts (if not brains) I greatly regret the Supreme Court’s 2010 decision that further tilted political influence toward wealthy donors and corporations, and hold that decision is in large part responsible for allowing the great unraveling.

VETOED

Gov. Kelly (Kansas) Vetoes Senate Bill 63:  “Right now the Legislature should be focused on ways to help Kansans cope with rising prices. That is the most important issue for Kansans. That is where my focus is.

“Infringing on parental rights is not appropriate, nor is it a Kansas value. As I’ve said before, it is not the job of politicians to stand between a parent and child who needs medical care of any kind. This legislation will also drive families, businesses, and health care workers out of our state, stifling our economy and exacerbating our workforce shortage issue.

“It is disappointing that the Legislature continues to push for government interference in Kansans’ private  medical decisions instead of focusing on issues that improve all Kansans’ lives.”   (The Hill)

__________________

GUN RIGHTS?   Thanks to  Diane  Ravitch for bringing our attention to a posting by Heather Cox Richardson:

On Friday, President Donald Trump issued an executive order “protecting Second Amendment rights.” The order calls for Attorney General Pam Bondi to examine all gun regulations in the U.S. to make sure they don’t infringe on any citizen’s right to bear arms…

And to Diane for reminding us about Musk’s 19-year old appointed as a senior advisor to multiple departments.

“He is dangerous,” said one of the U.S. officials, noting Coristine’s age and a report by Bloomberg News that he was fired for leaking a data security firm’s information to a competitor.  Eddie, known as “Big Balls” on the internet,  worked briefly for Musk’s Neuralink. He is a “senior advisor” to multiple highly confidential departments’ documents at the State Department and the Office of Personnel Management.  He apparently was never vetted. “What could possibly go wrong?”

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…Are my  new blogs not appearing?

nanmykel.com  nmykel@gmail.com

Another good reblog by Keith.