Showing posts with label reform school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reform school. Show all posts

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Guilt By Association: Part 1

Fall, 1988:

"Get up! You're going to be late!"

Alarm clock in hand, raised up towards her face, I groggily groaned at my Mother, "Look! I re-set it last night, I was going to get some sleep today.. the lady at CVS asked me if it could be rescheduled to 3... I'm going back to sleep!"

My Mother got all panicked for a second (I later found out that it was because they thought everything was going to go just as planned- which is funny, 'cause what does?-... but the switcheroo of my job interview screwed up their plans)...
"No! She called and said she wanted it to be at the original time."

I groaned, I rolled out of bed & started to walk to the nearest phone to call the woman to explain that I would be slightly late. My Mom, again, got all panicky.
"Where are you going?" she almost cried.
"Mom, chill. I'm just going to call her and tell her I'll be late, then hop in the shower."
"No!.. I already told her... just go get ready."
My mother was never this crazy normally... her voice was all quivery...it was odd, but it was still no indication of the bullshit that was about to ensue.

I took a shower and got dressed. I no longer recall what it was I wore that day, but I'm sure it was not only very 80's, but completely wrong for a job interview. Whatever, I was 16 years old and thought purple eyeshadow was amazing, so use your imagination... but if you need help:
this is actually me, the summer of 1988... I know... I rule, eh?
With my hair blown dry, teased well past the zenith, then sprayed with enough Aqua Net® that I do believe I may be partially, and personally, responsible for some of that ozone layer depletion; my make up so heavy that it looked like I motorboated my make up bag; my massive amounts of jewelry adorning me like the cheap and tacky armor it was... I wandered downstairs into the kitchen to get some breakfast.

I found my Dad & some random guy with a gross 70's 'stache in the dining room looking at the computer. I just figured he was either fixing something, or a business associate.
"Who's the porn star?" I asked my Mom pointing my thumb over my shoulder.
"Stop it! That's a business associate of your fathers" she said in one of those angry whispers that can only be perfected by motherhood.
"Whatever, still looks like a porn star with that 'stache"

 I grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl and a pre-wrapped portion of string cheese and asked my Mom for the keys to the car so I could get to town. She froze. In retrospect, my Mother was acting so freaky I don't know how I didn't know something was up. She tells me that the guy with my Dad, this "business associate," was leaving on the next train and they had to give him a ride, so we'd all go together. I was mildly irritated, because it meant I couldn't go anywhere after the interview, they'd be waiting. I shrugged and said "ok, let's go."

When we got into the car my mother was sitting in the back seat with me. This NEVER happens, my father is the über gentleman and always insists that the woman rides in front... so that was odd to me, but I just figured the porn star in the front seat was outta there soon, it didn't matter. We got to the end of the road, the car went right. The train station & my job interview were to the left...in the opposite direction.

"Dad, wrong way" I laughed.

*click*

The safety locks go on, and all the doors in the car were controlled by the driver.

*click*

The window locks were on, and couldn't be controlled from the back seat anymore

"What the fuck is going on?" I say.

"Honey, don't use that language" my mother pleaded.

"Fuck you, you just locked me in a car going in the opposite direction of where we were supposed to be going, with a big goon that looks like a porn star in the front seat.. and you want me to watch my language? Fuck that."

At that moment porn goon had leaned back through the front seats, puts his hands atop mine and tried to hold me in place. I looked at him, laughed, and told him "don't fucking touch me, creep"  as I picked up my right leg (I was sitting behind my Father) and kicked him... I was aiming for his face, but only managed to get him in the shoulder. I've never been one to allow someone to place their hands on me without consent. Not to say it never happened before, but because it had, I reacted. I started to jab at the window with my elbows, trying to break it. My Mother freaked out and grabbed my hands, I freed one and started (I'll never forget this as long as I live...) to whack the piss out of her hands and arms with my one free arm that happened to be covered in metal bracelets almost to the elbow.

clink... clink... kuthud....clink....clink... kuthud...….  rapidly and repeatedly until she let go.

I'm still not only shocked I ever lay a hand on her, but that I didn't break her wrists or hands.

Once she let go I just kept pounding on the window with my fists and bracelets..... swearing up a storm, wanting to get the fuck out of that car no matter what. I didn't care if I had to jump out the window on the highway... I think I would have, no, I know I would have. There is nothing more in this world I hate than the feeling of being trapped.

Damn windows.

If I had been able to get a better angle I would have kicked the windows out... but porn goon and my Mother kept grabbing at me. Finally I just stopped, I mean totally stopped. Something came over me, and I had a strange moment of clarity. Eyes straight ahead, breathing calm, sitting straight ... and I turned to my Mother and said in a very relaxed manner "where are you taking me, and why is he here?" (*pointing at porn goon*) I, years later, learned that he was a hired thug to supposedly "help" them kidnap me and take me to hell.



This would be "The Mansion"
I don't remember anything after that moment right up until we pulled through the gates of hell in West Stockbridge, MA. We parked directly in front of the mansion by the front door. I refused to get out of the car. My parents went inside. Porn goon stood on the steps and stared at me as I watched a bunch of preppy lookin' kids wandering around. A group of girls walked by, all of them holding hands with each other. An older person (no idea who) stopped them and said something to the person that was apparently in charge (I eventually learned that her name was Kelly (no memory of her last name) and she was a dorm parent (DP) for "New Girls" (yes, that was the name of one of the "dorms") in fall of 1988). A few girls came over to the car, opened the door and said "are you coming out?"

"No, I'm staying right here" I said, and closed the door on them.

Becky K. & Lara M. are the only faces with names that I remember from that moment in time.

About fifteen or so minutes later the door opens again, this time it's Joanna H. & some girl named Judy (I don't remember her last name, but she ran away with Brian B. about a month later), Joanna says "Hi" then just as she's about to speak again my parents walk out of "the mansion" (it had been about 45 min. at this point).... my Mother walks over to the side of the car where I am and my father pops the trunk. She says "honey, you have to get out of the car."

"The fuck I do" I tell her

Massive amounts of giggles erupt from the 10 or so girls that I hadn't noticed before on the other side of the car...they were still holding hands. It was surreal. I thought they were going to break into song like some strange scene from Whoville, only the car was the Xmas tree and the Grinch was someone I had yet to meet.... but someone was clearly stealing my Christmas.

My father dropped a small duffle bag at the door of the car and told me to "get out."

I looked at his face and realized there was no way that car was leaving with me in it, so I considered bookin' it for the gate. I judged the distance, kicked off the heels I had on, and took a good long look at my Mother's face. As I turned to prepare to take off for the main road all the girls were suddenly standing there behind Joanna & my Mother. Now it looked like a game of "Red Rover"... and I didn't know if I'd make it through. I stood up finally, and there was a collective gasp (height pays off once in a while) ...

"How long?" I asked my Mother

"That remains to......" my Father started

"Shut up, I was talking to her, " I said, pointing at my Mother.

"You will not speak to me like that young lady!" my father shouted.

"You're right, I just won't speak to you at all, asshole"...... and for a full year, I didn't. I only spoke to my Mother on the phone. I tore up every letter my father wrote, unread.

"Why?" I asked my Mother as I stood .... and began to walk away with tears in my eyes.

She had no answer. It took over 19 years for an answer.... and in the end it was because they were worried I'd end up like the people I was hanging out with. Great. Awesome. ....... Dumbasses! I had never once acted as angry & violent as I did that day in the car, I would have NEVER laid a hand on my Mother... and I sure as shit never talked to them the way I did that day. In retrospect it probably made it easier for them to leave me there because I had done all that..... but can you blame me?

What happened next, and up through January 1990, is what will soon follow in a series of posts that tell the story, as well as the story of others that went there since this wouldn't be worth telling without them.



Wednesday, April 20, 2011

When I See You Smile

My day started with a scream ... my own.
Stupid alarm didn't go off. (!@#$%^&*!@!!!)
I missed an appointment with one of my new bosses (I have two jobs now), which means I didn't make the ferry boat to the mainland, which means I did not get the job training I needed today.
Did I lose my job?
No.
Did I find out that my new boss, whom I have technically yet to work for, is the greatest?
Behold the following text message exchange:

(yes, this is word for word what was said early this morning)
Me: I am vastly aware of what a shithead  I am, and would be out back with a log of wood beating my alarm clock with it, if it weren't for the fact that I need it to tell you how much I suck at life right now. I doubt I could apologize enought, but... I will try. I AM SO SORRY! Truly, from the bottom of my heart.

(1 min later)
Me: Oh... and Brandi says you are not allowed to hate my guts... not for long anyway.

Him: I don't. No biggie. I can send you over another day

Me: I feel so horrible about this. Really. This is not a good impression, nor is it "who I am"...but I just feel like the biggest loser... and now you go and play Capt. Awesome Boss and fogive me?! Crap, I better get back into the habit of baking cookies. Thank you for not hating me. Still super sorry.

Him: Cookies!!!!! Who doesn't love cookies? The new system is super easy you could learn it in 5 mins but I'll send you to NB to learn it so you get to see it

Me: Cookie baking will commence in 5...4...3...2...and I'm off to the grocery store!

As soon as I hit "send" I left immediately for the grocery store to go get stuff to make cookies.

I'm wondering now if this was one of those oddly perfect examples of "everything happens for a reason"?

You see, after I sent that first text message (mind you I had first contacted my friend Brandi because I didn't have my bosses cell phone number, and she works for him too) I sat down with a cup of coffee in front of my laptop, and I decided to multitask and flipped it on to check facebook.

I'd like to slightly sidetrack here and say I just recently (like over the past two weeks) learned something I was apparently clueless about. I've always had friends say to me that they thought I was on facebook a lot. Most of them say they love it though 'cause I tend to live my life out loud. It's a learned thing from previous years, and quite honestly totally calculated, since  I discovered that people were often bound to want to talk about certain things I had ZERO interest in discussing. So, I figured if I just sorta put it all out there, then even if I go weeks without seeing someone, they rarely ask me questions about topics that I am really not wantin' to discuss. It honestly works. Obviously I keep the super personal stuff 100% to myself, but the truth is, there is no one that can read what I post that I don't trust anyway. (Ok, there are like 3 or 4, but I just block them from seeing certain things... Hooray! for facebook privacy controls!) The thing that shocked ME though was this: I happened to mention to a friend that I needed to check facebook each morning. They teased me and said "you're always on there!" (not true, I use my phone for it mostly) I looked at them like they were nuts and said "how the hell do you keep up with all the messages?" and they were all "what messages?!" I told them "I know there's only like 15 or 20 a day, but I feel so bad when I don't write someone back or miss one of the letters in the mix."

I'm not going to go into much more detail than that, needless to say I was quickly informed that getting actual messages from friends was kinda rare, and most people got like 2 or 3 a week at most. Color me shocked. Here I always thought I had the most awesome friends on the planet.... NOW I am totally certain of it.

Now, in regards to facebook, and friends... and what I had previously mentioned about "things happening for a reason" (i.e the alarm not going off)... today I noticed something my friend David had posted about a mutual friend. A friend that was at the same fucked up reform school (seriously folks the place was what horror movies strive to copycat) that we went to. A whole bunch of "us" (i.e former students, runaways, even graduates) are on facebook and in contact with each other. The school may have sucked, but the bonds it formed... well, let's just say I'd do just about anything for my closest friends from there.... and quite honestly just knowing someone went there, even during a different "era" is enough to form a strong bond. Obvioulsy not EVERYONE gets along, but... it's kind of amazing the way everyone is sorta like extended family.
yes, that is an actual picture of the main building, "the mansion", from 1996 when I briefly snuck on campus and smoked an "illegal" ('cause smoking wasn't allowed) cigarette... the story of why I was even on that hell hole of a campus 6 years after I ran away is another story for another day.


That said, we (my friends from that school & I) lost one of our own over the weekend. The news hit today via my friend David. As I type this I am still fairly uncertain of the exact cause, but my friend Lauren is gone. Lauren who sent me messages that I was lax about replying to. Messages that are gonna haunt me for a while....




Are you noticing the date? 'Cause I sure as shit noticed it.... and proceeded to feel so craptastic that I actually vomited the coffee I was drinking. Taster's Choice® instant coffee is waaay worse coming out than going in, trust me on that. I know it's a fairly human reaction to run the gamut of thoughts and emotions. I know that a lot of people have those thoughts of "if only I had called!", "if only I answered my phone", "if only I bothered to reply to the email in a timely fashion".... if only what? I know it's normal to have these thoughts, but after losing so many people in my lifetime so far, I've learned that those thoughts, while totally human and normal, help NO ONE. They can become very unhealthy and, depending on how far one takes it, can start to look kind of egotistical and make the tragedy become more about them than who it's actually about. That said, I do still feel like crap about not writing her back. It's not that I wasn't going to, I just knew she never signed onto facebook, like EVER, so I didn't see it as something I needed to hurry up and do I guess. I still feel like shit about it though. I wish I had the chance to tell her she was welcome here, and that I'd totally make room for her at my place if she visited the island... but I can't do that now can I? David then told me "She wanted to walk into your bar & surprise you. I don't know what happened between you but she really wanted to do that, to see you." Yeah, that'll haunt me too, but the thought that I could have personally changed whatever happened to Lauren this past weekend would be lunacy on my part, agreed?

I can write about it here... 'cause, well... it's my blog. It's what I do. I write out my thoughts and feelings about things and share them with others. People have a choice to read them, or comment on them... or not. It just is what it is.

Now that all that has been said, let me explain the "everything happens for a reason" part....

I bake. I truly, really, honestly LOVE to bake. Not to the point that I'd want to do it for a living. I believe that would ruin it for me (but that's just me.) When I am making...baking... something in the kitchen I am able to clear my mind. Simple things like the measuring of flour, and cracking of eggs can lull me into a trance. I might find myself pondering what certain ingredients I've never tried before could do to the recipe (if I'm even following one.) I lose myself entirely. I feel like I'm conducting a symphony where I play the part of conductor and the sugars, powders, creams, and butters are my orchestra. We make beautiful music together... and 99.9% of the time I am baking something for someone, and doing it with love.  It's a very cathartic thing for me. I am solely focused on what I am doing and all other thoughts disappear for that time. I needed that today.

 After taking a long hot shower and crying my eyes out in the one place where no one would see me, nor would they even notice, I put myself together, sent that one final text message to my boss, and off I went to go get what was needed to clear my mind.

I did manage a brief walk on the beach before heading home, but it wasn't helping me the way it normally would. The sun was hiding behind the clouds by mid afternoon... and I realized that sometimes you really do have to make your own sunshine.

My sunshine just happened to look and smell like chocolate chip cookies. Which I, possibly ironically, hate to eat... but baking them ebbed the tears, and made it possible to grin as I remembered the beaming smile of my friend Lauren. Sure I baked them for my (very cool & kind) boss, but they will taste all that much better because of the ability to remember Lauren's smile.

♥ Lauren ♥

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