Mama's Got Game

Recently, I was mulling over the mentality of the people in this part of the country, and I have to agree with my Sociology professor: People in the south are very nice... TO YOUR FACE. It took me a long time to figure out the nature of the beast down here, but I've got it, and I won't lose it again. I've got your game now.

For example, not long after I arrived here, I was verbally accosted by my husband's aunt. What followed was verbal accusations by his mother and grandmother, and then his mother decided to prefer her sister's grandchildren over her own. But it's all right. I've got her game.

We were intentionally excluded from his mother's birthday parties by her "friends" and we weren't invited to any gatherings by his family. It's been 30 years of hell, and it's all right. We've got their game.

We have to hear about family tragedies long after the deed is over. It's all right. We've got your game.

 It has been said that to have friends, you have to be a friend. I've done that, and what I've gotten for my efforts is being used, abused and thrown aside. But it's all right. I've got their game.

Periodically, I would conveniently forget how the people down here are and help out with functions at church or wherever. But their true nature always comes forth. And it's all right. I've got their game.

At times, I would assist struggling musicians by creating their websites, and they decided to reward me by not paying what I was owed. It's all right. I've got their game.

In college, I volunteered for many events, only to be cast aside when it came time for a leadership role. I've got your game too.

What I have discovered through this whole process is that no matter how much I would like to have a good friend, I won't have one down here. My best friends are people I met while living in Chicago, and they are still my friends to this day. I've got their game and they've got mine.

What that means is that I know they've got my back. Down south, all I can say I know is that I'm constantly picking their knives out of my back. I won't live like this any longer, and I am saying right here and now that NO is going to be my favorite word. I don't care if someone needs my help and I'm the ONLY person in the world who can help them. Charity begins at home and the only people who will get my help will be my family, and those who have earned my trust.

That's my game and I've already got yours.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

Saying Goodbye

Last week, I attended the memorial service for a dear friend of mine. It was a memorial service and not a funeral, because he crossed over on January 5, 2012. His family had moved from Little Rock to Phoenix, and were having the service for all of his friends from where they had lived for 27 years. We were honored to be invited to attend. I wasn't invited to speak, but if I had, this is what I would have said.

Everyone loved Bob. That includes us. I first met Bob Carl in 1981 when he interviewed me for a job as a "Gal Friday" as he called it. I had just left my first husband and was looking for a job and a place to stay. A friend offered me her son's room while he was away at college, and I jumped at the chance. I stayed only two weeks. It might have been longer if Bob hadn't seen something in me that no one else saw at the time. During the interview, he asked me what my salary expectations were. Since I had nothing and needed a job, I bid very low. He sat back in his chair and immediately said "Well, you have to take into consideration your train fare." And he gave me more than I had asked for. I told him that if he hired me, he would never be sorry that he did. I got the job.

Maybe he WAS sorry once or twice, but he never showed it. He made me a part of his family, inviting me for events at the holidays, and bringing chocolate covered strawberries into our Michigan Avenue office. To this day, I can't eat a strawberry without chocolate on it. I grew to know the Carl family immediately. They were all in town for the holidays that year, and we sat in their family room, drinking glug (yes, Pat, I still have those grog mugs) and passing my guitar around for all who knew how, to play. We played and sang silly songs like "The Ballad of Claudine Longet", a song passed on from one of the Carls' friends. I sang a couple of my own tunes, and a man in attendance, who claimed to be a deejay, offered to put it on the radio. That never happened, but it was fun, and one of the best times of my life.

Every time I went to the Carls' home, there was something different to eat or drink, and the good times definitely rolled with them. Pat Carl, Bob's wife, came to be a friend of mine, but I'm not sure if she knows how much she influenced me over the years. There were little things that Bob and Pat said that impacted me greatly. They helped to shape me into who I am and were responsible for giving me clarity. For example, when I met Steve and we were planning our wedding, it was Bob who told me to make my wedding any time I wanted. I protested that my family usually goes to Florida during that time, but he said that if my wedding was important enough, they could change their plans. And they did. Interesting that he saw that before I did.



The Carls came to our wedding, and we have several photos of us together. They came to our wedding because that's what good friends do. Little did I know that soon they would be moving to North Little Rock to form their own business. They lived there happily for 27 years until Bob went into full retirement. We lost track of them then, as they split their time between Florida and NLR, and we never knew when they were in town. We lost them, but we never forgot them. They came to visit after I had Rhys, and Pat took the picture of him standing alone for the very first time. What a gift. The Carls were full of gifts and they were the first people who I recognized as having genuine affection for me.



Bob had this thing for transportation. First, he offered me more money for the job because I needed transportation. Then when the train fare was raised to a ridiculously high level and I could no longer afford to take the train to work, Bob would come and pick me up at my apartment and we would ride in together. I felt like a freeloader, but not because of anything he said or did. It was just that he gave me so much, and I had nothing to give in return. The Carls traveled to our wedding. And then when we were going on our first vacation ever (to Hot Springs), our horrible P.O.S. car broke down in Podunk Arkansas. We found a tiny church off the road and called the Carls for help. We were about an hour away from them. Not only did they drive to get us, but they called a wrecker and had our car towed into their mechanic's shop. Thinking we would never get to our destination, they surprised us by loaning us Pat's Volvo so we could continue our vacation. Their kindnesses were not lost on us. They are an indelible part of our lives. Later on, Bob and Pat became members of a sports car club. Not surprising, considering all the transportation assists we had received from them. We came to visit them a couple of times, and most memorably, for Thanksgiving one year when we had both of the boys and they were young. It was a time I will never forget and we will never forget their kindnesses to us.



Through the miracle of the internet, I found the Carls in Phoenix in the last year. I didn't hear from them much, because Bob had some issues with his heart and Pat was his primary care giver. When she heard a shuffle or a thump, she ran to his side. If we were on the phone at the time, I didn't mind when she said abruptly, "I gotta go." I knew it was to help Bob. Bob was the first recipient of the LVAD, Left Ventricular Assist Device. I don't know much about it, except that it helped him to have a year that they would not ordinarily have had. Bob had his first heart attack soon after moving to North Little Rock, and was not afraid of dying, but wanted others to have the chance to live, and now seven others have received this miracle of modern medicine at Banner Good Samaritan in Phoenix.



I got to see Pat at the memorial, along with her granddaughter, Gloria. I worry about Pat being alone, because so much of her life was wrapped up in Bob's life and his care. My resolve to go out there to visit is extremely strong. But I wish I could have seen Bob again. I saw lots of pictures of him, at his best and at his worst. What a great guy he was. The world just doesn't seem right without him in it.



I think Bob would be proud of the person I am becoming. I am going to college and am graduating with my Associate of Science in May. I have been accepted into the Loewenberg School of Nursing for the fall of 2012. I wish he could be at my graduation. But maybe, just maybe, if I listen closely enough, I can hear him say "well done" that day. I just wish I could hear it in person.



Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta