Making Bubbles with Gum

How did you learn to blow bubbles with gum? Me, well it was not the traditional way or at least that is what my memories are telling me.

As I said in the previous post, we made the big move from eastern Pennsylvania to the Pittsburgh area. Where we lived was not on the bus line so it was difficult for us to get around. We would have to walk from one place to another.

I have this one memory that is like a ghost. I can barely see it in my mind's eye but I know it's there.

We walked to the store to get something. Who knows what it was and I ended up with a piece of gum.

I decided I needed to blow a  Well, Father was not going to teach me the appropriate way to blow a bubble.

My little impatient self was not going to wait on someone to really teach me if my Father was not going to teach me. So what did I do, I would stretch out the piece of gum manually and then put it up to my lips. Then I would blow on it. I don't know how effective that method really was for blowing a bubble.

It's just a memory that I can laugh about now that I'm older.

Our big move

Around the age of 7, we moved once again. This time to the Pittsburgh area because we would have family living close to us. 

My mom had hoped my grandparents would be willing to help with driving us around because we didn't have a car.

That didn't happen. Where we ended up living was not on a bus line so we could only walk to places. With a 7-year-old and a 4 or 5-year-old, can you imagine how difficult getting around? Add a blind person to the mix and then you have a lot of issues with the lack of transportation.

I just wish I could remember the name of the area of Pittsburgh we lived in at that time. I've mapped it out before and all I know is it was in the southern part.

A lot of my memories truly began during this time. I've blacked out a lot of the abuse. That's how my brain works. The actual memory is not there but the flight, freeze or fear aspects are still ingrained in my subconscious.  Do I ever want to release the memories? No, let them stay there. I probably felt fear and terror during those times.

I'll be diving into those memories during the next few blog posts.

Then we'll move to our final home in the Pittsburgh area. A place that still reminds me of the horrors I endured during the few years we lived there.

The First Time I was in Foster Care

By the time I was five, we were living in Annville, PA which was in the same county as Hershey.

In 1980, I began kindergarten in the Annville-Cleona School District.  My kindergarten teacher was Ms. Lemon.

Since I was so young, I don't know much about that time in my life.

I have the briefest of flashes of memories. Whether they are real memories or just made up of figments of my imagination, I'll never know.

For some reason, I have this vision of a movie theater in my mind. However, the first real movie I can recall seeing was E.T. so I don't know if my memory is a true memory or a combination of separate memories that formed a new one.

I remember a boy named Wesley. It may have been the foster mother's son or it was another boy who was in foster care.

Then there was the chickenpox incident. From what I have been told, I had chickenpox while I was really young. However, I think I had it during the time I was in foster care.

My mom told me that even though they didn't have money during the time we were in foster care, she spent money to see John Denver in concert. She now regrets it because she should have been saving money.

Tanya and I in foster care

I don't know when we got out of foster care. Soon we were back in the hands of the man who caused me great pain.

Our lives were going to be in turmoil once again. Join me next time as I continue this journey of telling my story.

Seminary . . .

I have rewind the hands of the clock to tell this story.  

When I left off, I was 6 years old and my mom was making us white shirts with iron on letters.

Today's story takes place when I was an only child so I must have been 1 or 2 years old.

Mom and I went out to lunch today at a Mexican restaurant.  I ordered Huevos Rancheros.  When the plate was delivered to my table, they had included a slice of tomato with my order.

I did not eat the tomato because I have a love/ hate relationship with tomatoes.  As I admitted this to my mom, she told me the story about when my father attended seminary.

That was brand new information because I never knew my father had attended seminary.  She told me that she would drive him to seminary and luckily some people would allow her to come over so I could nap.


Afterwards she told me of our neighbors would grow vegetables.  He would drop them off at the front door so we ate a lot of free produce.  One of the veggies, he grew was tomatoes.  She would make a lot of stewed tomatoes out of those tomatoes.  Maybe I ate too many of those tomatoes when I was a child so now I do not like tomatoes that much.

Today I learned some new details about my childhood.  I never knew my father had attended seminary.

I went to the Poconos?!? / Manhole

Today I'm going to share two stories.  I only know bits and pieces of these stories.  

Both involve one of mom's friends from college.  Pete helped her out in the one of the stories.  In the other story, Pete took her, my sister, and I on a trip.

One of the stories Mom has told me is about the time my father was at disability camp or training.  I don't really know which one he was at.

Anyway Pete decided to take us to the Poconos.  So he came and picked us up and took us there for a guess a weekend.

Father did not know we were going.  The only person or people who knew were my Ohio grandparents.  

I don't know what we did there.  All I can do is tell people that I have been to the Poconos.

The other story Mom has told me is about my father walking around without his cane.  The town we lived in was doing construction and had manhole open.  

Father was suppose to use a cane when he was walking around.  However he decided not to use the cane.

Open manhole, blind man without a cane - What do you think happened?  Yep, he fell in the manhole and broke his leg.

Pete came up from Virginia to help because Mom had to deal with two toddlers and a man child with a broken leg.

Until next time,
Traci

The Bicycle

This is another fragmented story.  I have pictures in my mind.  However it is like a jigsaw.  The pieces must fit together but how is unknown.

We lived in Bunker Hill close to Jonestown in a house while I was a toddler. 

I have this photo in my mind of a tricycle or bicycle.  Knowing what age I would have been, it probably was a tricycle.

We had been out and about for the day.  Or maybe we were taking a walk. 

I had decided I didn't want to ride the bicycle anymore.

My father got so angry that he decided was going to sit on it and try to peddle it.  (He was a big man. - 6 foot tall and at least 200 pounds)

I don't think the tricycle was broken.

I sort of remember a car but I don't know how it relates to the story.  I don't think my mom drove.  She may have until a certain point.  

So weird of a memory.  

It just shows you how his anger took over.

Traci

And So It Began . . .

Since I was so young, I can't remember when the actual abuse began.  All I know is that it was somewhere between the ages of 3 and 5.

I spent the summer of being 3 with my grandparents in Ohio.  I don't remember much about the trip.  I've seen photos though.  In those photos, I was a joyful child. 

My grandpa, my great uncle, and myself at about 3 years old

Then it was back to Pennsylvania.  From what I've been told, my father lost his job.  His anger took over.  My stubborn but joyful self was an obstacle he did not like.

It may have been because I had been naughty.  It was the norm for children to be spanked in the late 70's and early 80's.  Okay not the norm but it was common.

Instead of a switch, he used his belt on my butt.  However since he could not see, he ended up hitting my lower back.  I was left with bruises.  

To this day, I don't like people to smack my butt.  It bothers me.

I have back issues.  I don't know if it was because of him smacking me.

Traci

Next Comes Marriage

After my mom left West Virginia Wesleyan, she moved back home.  By the time she left school, she was engaged to my father.  Once again when she was asked about the engagement, she does not remember how or when she got engaged.

They got married in Clairton, PA which is just south of Pittsburgh.  The church where they got married was the church my grandpa was serving in at that time.

She tells the story of how they were watching the parsonage during the winter before they were married.  It was so cold outside and the furnace went out.  The water in the toilet froze.

Their attendants in the wedding party was my two aunts and two other guys from the church.  Mom doesn't even remember their names.  She thinks one was the choir director.

For some reason there was two different rehearsals.  My uncle had to step in for my aunt.

After getting married, they moved to the Harrisburg area. Father had a lunch counter in a department store.  

Mom has told me stories about being stuck in her third floor apartment when Harrisburg was flooded during Hurricane Agnes.  I guess they were in the department store when the rain began.  A British lady kept telling the angels in heaven to stop peeing.

They did not have a lot of money so she started eating Chef Boyadee straight out of the can.

They also lived in Jonestown which is located in the same county as Hershey.

Then almost 4 years after getting married, I was born.

The story will be continued tomorrow.

Traci

Meet My Father

After my mom graduated from high school, she attended college at West Virginia Wesleyan College in Buckhannon, WV.

Wesley Chapel at West Virginia Wesleyan College

While there, she met my father. 

My mom does not know when they met or how they met.  They were both in a sorority and a fraternity so maybe it was at a group function.  Maybe it was at the dining hall.  She has told me that I can make up the story of how they fell in love.

So who was my father?

Murray, my father, was the oldest of three children.  

He was born on Feb. 4, 1948.

One of my aunts was 2 years younger than him.  

My other aunt is 5.5 years younger than him.

He grew up around the Pittsburgh, PA area.  

His dad was an United Methodist minister and his mom was a stay at home mom.

He graduated from high school in 1966 and then began to attend school at West Virginia Wesleyan with a degree in psychology.  He ended up graduating from college in 1971.   

My father at about the age of 12

Then his life changed when the doctor's discovered a tumor on his pituitary gland.  He was a sophomore in college.  He had been studying when all of the sudden he couldn't see.  So a fraternity brother drove him back to the Pittsburgh area.

After his surgery to remove the tumor, he was left 75% blind.

Even before the tumor, he was an angry child.  At least that is what one of my aunts has told me.

His anger continued through his adult life.  

He was also very child like from my mother's reports about him.

I know very little about my father.  I wish I did know more.  Family history is important to me.

My grandma, his mother, told us very little.  We mostly heard about her 5 or so boyfriends prior to meeting my grandpa.  My grandpa died in 1992 so I never got to talk to him about our family.

Join me tomorrow for the continuation of my story.

Traci