Dear Teresa,
My writing will probably look funny because I just did my nails and they're still wet.
I went out to Sally and Dan's on my days off last week (you remember them don't you?) and I'll go out there again this week. She's helping me make some Xmas stockings for all the girls here. I just couldn't afford to buy them all something but they'll like these. They each have their name on them, etc. I sure hope you got your Xmas card in time to spend your money on something you wanted. I wish I could have sent more and that I could have sent Charlotte some, but I just didn't have it. I'm having to really cut it close, if I get to get that car, because I just have my check to live on, so..... Maybe I'll have a little money to spend by the time I get to come up there. And I hope that's not too far off!
Things are working out real good for me. I went over to the apartment yesterday and got a few linens and dishes and my books and whatnots, for when I get an apartment. There was plenty for Phil and I both. I'll have to buy more, but it'll be a start anyway. He's going to move back to Fort Worth he says, so I wanted to get it before he left. I didn't get all of it, but I just wanted enough to be able to start. He's very unhappy with me because I won't come back. He's drinking again and he still doesn't understand that that's one of the reasons. Mainly because he doesn't want to. Maybe he can take that chance, but I can't. I've had enough. But he has to put the blame on someone, so it might as well be me. He'll get over it. I sure miss Charlie tho. But I'll get me a dog, when I get settled. We have too many animals around here now. Toni (the boss) has a little toy poodle, and we have a big Persian named BK in the house, and a solid black one that stays outside named Serenity. So I'll have to wait.
Well honey, I guess this is all for now. Write soon, and be sweet. I love you, and thanks for the picture.
Love,
Mother
~~~~
You'll get Charlie back.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Conversations With the Dead: 11/30/79 Houston, Texas
Dear Teresa,
Got your letter yesterday. And as far as algebra is concerned, I'd be lost! But after all, "C" is average, so that's not so bad. Math was always my worst subject anyway.
Well, I got me a job, and it's right next door, so I don't have to ride the bus and all that jazz. I work for a Camper manufacturing company and all I do is answer the phone, and a little typing, taking orders and a little filing. I just work from 10 t0 4, so that's neat. With my check, and just paying $100 a month for room and board (I was paying $200 but as assistant manager they knock $100 off) I can live on that, because they furnish a lot of stuff like deodorant, etc. And I really need to work with sick alcoholics. This is helping me more than anything. But I'm like you. I sure hate not being able to be with you this Christmas. But we WILL make it up this summer. And by then I know I'll be 100% better. But I do want to see you so bad. But I should be able to get a car soon now that I'm working so I can at least make it some weekend. It's silly to try it without a car to get around in while I'm there. I think my boss over at the house knows someone who will sell me one and let me pay it out. So just hang in there, and PRAY!
We had a big Thanksgiving. We had open house, and we cooked for three days to get ready for it (and you know how I hate to cook!). I'm already dreading Christmas.
Yes, Al-a-Teen is really good for kids of alcoholics. It's really hard on them. I can say that, because I was raised in an alcoholic home, and I know how it was for me. You knew I guess that Granddaddy Scott was one, bless his heart. I actually hated him for 27 years, because I didn't understand. He was really a good man, he was just sick, but I didn't understand until I went through it myself.
The American Medical Association says it is a disease, and it is. We are sick mentally, physically and spiritually. It's an allergy of the body, coupled with a compulsion of the mind. We can't be cured, but we can get the disease arrested, just like TB or diabetes. We have a daily reprieve, depending on our spiritual condition. That's why we try to live only a day at a time. After all, that's all we have anyway. We can't do anything about the past, and when tomorrow gets here, it'll be today. We can plan, but leave the results up to God.
The first three steps in our AA program are: 1. Admitted we were powerless over alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable, 2. Came to believe that Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity, 3. Turned our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understand Him. And then there are nine more steps, and we try to use them in all our affairs. It's a way of life, and the principles are exactly the ones I lived by, those four years I was sober. Some of our pet sayings are: "Let go and let God", "Easy does it", and "One day at a time". But people make it in this program, that never would make it in church.
Well I guess I had better close and get to work. Let me hear from you, and be sweet. I love you, and I'm VERY proud of you.
Love,
Mother
P.S. If you ever need to get hold of me by phone, call me at area code (713) 741-3355 (the house), person to person. At work it's (713) 741-2936.
~~~
If I didn't know better, I'd think you're reading over my shoulder.
I vaguely remember you hating your father for his alcoholism. So you understand how I feel. I don't want to go through it myself to know how YOU feel. I'll just try to empathize from here.
You typed this letter. All but the postscript and your "Mother" is typed. It's strange not to see your "T's" with their diagonal crosses, your big loops and circles for dots above the "I's".
I'm glad you are in AA. I want to understand. And I'm tempted to call those phone numbers, thirty-two years into the future, just to see if you will answer. Person to person. That's what these letters are. I visit these instead of the grave. You are here, a sprinkling of your thoughts to paper. They really do transcend time.
I just swept up some broken glass. My four year-old autistic son broke a candle. I thought of you as I swept, wondering what you would think of my life. I love him so much, even if I don't understand so much of his behavior. Like with you, I just dismiss the lack of understanding, step over it like a body in the way. Love transcends all of it, the distance, the gravity, time and death. Maybe you should have renamed God, called him Love instead. Love has a lot more power.
Julian just called me into his room to look out the window. His speech is so awful but I understood "sky" and "dreams come true". He's remembering the song from Pinnochio, the "If you wish upon a star..." The sun is out but he is thinking of evening stars and wooden puppets who dream of becoming human. I wonder why.
Got your letter yesterday. And as far as algebra is concerned, I'd be lost! But after all, "C" is average, so that's not so bad. Math was always my worst subject anyway.
Well, I got me a job, and it's right next door, so I don't have to ride the bus and all that jazz. I work for a Camper manufacturing company and all I do is answer the phone, and a little typing, taking orders and a little filing. I just work from 10 t0 4, so that's neat. With my check, and just paying $100 a month for room and board (I was paying $200 but as assistant manager they knock $100 off) I can live on that, because they furnish a lot of stuff like deodorant, etc. And I really need to work with sick alcoholics. This is helping me more than anything. But I'm like you. I sure hate not being able to be with you this Christmas. But we WILL make it up this summer. And by then I know I'll be 100% better. But I do want to see you so bad. But I should be able to get a car soon now that I'm working so I can at least make it some weekend. It's silly to try it without a car to get around in while I'm there. I think my boss over at the house knows someone who will sell me one and let me pay it out. So just hang in there, and PRAY!
We had a big Thanksgiving. We had open house, and we cooked for three days to get ready for it (and you know how I hate to cook!). I'm already dreading Christmas.
Yes, Al-a-Teen is really good for kids of alcoholics. It's really hard on them. I can say that, because I was raised in an alcoholic home, and I know how it was for me. You knew I guess that Granddaddy Scott was one, bless his heart. I actually hated him for 27 years, because I didn't understand. He was really a good man, he was just sick, but I didn't understand until I went through it myself.
The American Medical Association says it is a disease, and it is. We are sick mentally, physically and spiritually. It's an allergy of the body, coupled with a compulsion of the mind. We can't be cured, but we can get the disease arrested, just like TB or diabetes. We have a daily reprieve, depending on our spiritual condition. That's why we try to live only a day at a time. After all, that's all we have anyway. We can't do anything about the past, and when tomorrow gets here, it'll be today. We can plan, but leave the results up to God.
The first three steps in our AA program are: 1. Admitted we were powerless over alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable, 2. Came to believe that Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity, 3. Turned our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understand Him. And then there are nine more steps, and we try to use them in all our affairs. It's a way of life, and the principles are exactly the ones I lived by, those four years I was sober. Some of our pet sayings are: "Let go and let God", "Easy does it", and "One day at a time". But people make it in this program, that never would make it in church.
Well I guess I had better close and get to work. Let me hear from you, and be sweet. I love you, and I'm VERY proud of you.
Love,
Mother
P.S. If you ever need to get hold of me by phone, call me at area code (713) 741-3355 (the house), person to person. At work it's (713) 741-2936.
~~~
If I didn't know better, I'd think you're reading over my shoulder.
I vaguely remember you hating your father for his alcoholism. So you understand how I feel. I don't want to go through it myself to know how YOU feel. I'll just try to empathize from here.
You typed this letter. All but the postscript and your "Mother" is typed. It's strange not to see your "T's" with their diagonal crosses, your big loops and circles for dots above the "I's".
I'm glad you are in AA. I want to understand. And I'm tempted to call those phone numbers, thirty-two years into the future, just to see if you will answer. Person to person. That's what these letters are. I visit these instead of the grave. You are here, a sprinkling of your thoughts to paper. They really do transcend time.
I just swept up some broken glass. My four year-old autistic son broke a candle. I thought of you as I swept, wondering what you would think of my life. I love him so much, even if I don't understand so much of his behavior. Like with you, I just dismiss the lack of understanding, step over it like a body in the way. Love transcends all of it, the distance, the gravity, time and death. Maybe you should have renamed God, called him Love instead. Love has a lot more power.
Julian just called me into his room to look out the window. His speech is so awful but I understood "sky" and "dreams come true". He's remembering the song from Pinnochio, the "If you wish upon a star..." The sun is out but he is thinking of evening stars and wooden puppets who dream of becoming human. I wonder why.
Conversations With the Dead: 11/19/79 Houston, Texas
Dear Teresa,
Sorry I've waited to write, but we have really been busy around here the last few days. Several sick people came in, etc. But I was so glad to get your letter, and the picture is beautiful! I wish for my birthday I could get one enlarged. (To fit that 5 x 7 frame I have your other ones in). It's really a good picture of you. Everyone here made over it. (We have nine women here now, including Pat, the manager).
Thank goodness you have a teacher you like for algebra! (ha).
Well, they've made me assistant manager here, which means I help Pat out running things, and I'm in charge on her two days off. This helps me, to be able to help other people, and even when I go to work I can still do it. But I haven't really made up my mind if I'll go to work, or go to school. It's possible that I could go to school through the VA, and they pay you to go. But we'll see. I'm just leaving it to God, to point me in the right direction. I don't want anything except what HE wants anymore. It's really helped me to be here. The director of the house (Toni) is a real good Christian woman. She was a drug addict and alcoholic for seventeen years and she really knows what she's doing. She's been straight now for six years.
I'll always care for Phil, but we can't stay together. I want to be his friend, and always will if he's willing. But my sobriety has to come first. That's the only way I can make it. I'm not good for anyone, until I get myself straight, and the only way I can do that is to put God, and the AA program first. I hope you understand. God knows how much I love you, and Charlotte and David, and I pray for all of you every day. I know I'm not much help to you, but I do know HE will take care of you, and guide you. And I'm so grateful for that. I miss seeing you all so much, but I just have to wait, and see how things work out. And it will, I have no doubts, because I know I'm where I'm supposed to be, doing what HE wants. It may take a little time, but I didn't get this way overnight, and I won't get things right overnight.
Well, sweetie, I have to go now. We are going to have a meeting. Be sweet and please write me. Tell Charlotte to send me some pictures or else! I love you, very much.
Love,
(Mudder!) Rogene (<-- The girls were distracting me!)
You leave so much in God's hands. Could this have been the problem? Looking outside yourself? You once joked that, "The Devil made me do it." So the Devil was your left half and God was your right. Where were you? Again, it just makes me so angry that you invested all your faith in a fairy tale, spent your life letting a cartoon character drive. I wish I could have been there as an adult to warn you, but then I wonder if you would have listened, and if without your fairy tale you would have been worse off, more alone. I can't know.
Sorry I've waited to write, but we have really been busy around here the last few days. Several sick people came in, etc. But I was so glad to get your letter, and the picture is beautiful! I wish for my birthday I could get one enlarged. (To fit that 5 x 7 frame I have your other ones in). It's really a good picture of you. Everyone here made over it. (We have nine women here now, including Pat, the manager).
Thank goodness you have a teacher you like for algebra! (ha).
Well, they've made me assistant manager here, which means I help Pat out running things, and I'm in charge on her two days off. This helps me, to be able to help other people, and even when I go to work I can still do it. But I haven't really made up my mind if I'll go to work, or go to school. It's possible that I could go to school through the VA, and they pay you to go. But we'll see. I'm just leaving it to God, to point me in the right direction. I don't want anything except what HE wants anymore. It's really helped me to be here. The director of the house (Toni) is a real good Christian woman. She was a drug addict and alcoholic for seventeen years and she really knows what she's doing. She's been straight now for six years.
I'll always care for Phil, but we can't stay together. I want to be his friend, and always will if he's willing. But my sobriety has to come first. That's the only way I can make it. I'm not good for anyone, until I get myself straight, and the only way I can do that is to put God, and the AA program first. I hope you understand. God knows how much I love you, and Charlotte and David, and I pray for all of you every day. I know I'm not much help to you, but I do know HE will take care of you, and guide you. And I'm so grateful for that. I miss seeing you all so much, but I just have to wait, and see how things work out. And it will, I have no doubts, because I know I'm where I'm supposed to be, doing what HE wants. It may take a little time, but I didn't get this way overnight, and I won't get things right overnight.
Well, sweetie, I have to go now. We are going to have a meeting. Be sweet and please write me. Tell Charlotte to send me some pictures or else! I love you, very much.
Love,
(Mudder!) Rogene (<-- The girls were distracting me!)
You leave so much in God's hands. Could this have been the problem? Looking outside yourself? You once joked that, "The Devil made me do it." So the Devil was your left half and God was your right. Where were you? Again, it just makes me so angry that you invested all your faith in a fairy tale, spent your life letting a cartoon character drive. I wish I could have been there as an adult to warn you, but then I wonder if you would have listened, and if without your fairy tale you would have been worse off, more alone. I can't know.
Conversations With the Dead: Circa 1974, Greenville Texas
Dear Teresa,
Glad to get your letter, and glad Mac is fine.
The kittens have disappeared. There are some new kids in the neighborhood and we just hope they got them. They must have, for both of them to disappear, at the same time.
Not much news I guess. Like I told you when you were here, I was hoping David could stay with me when he leaves the hospital, and your daddy called me the other day and asked if I could take David. So as soon as I can get a place of my own he can come. I just wish he didn't have to stay there, to wait. But it can't be helped.
I got a letter from Charlotte the other day, and she said she had been pregnant, but she lost it. I sent her a birthday card and some money yesterday. Maybe they'll come back for a visit before long.
As soon as I get some of the pictures Nanny took while you were here, I'll send you some.
Well honey, I guess that's all for now. Be sweet and remember I love you. I sure do miss you.
Love,
Mother
This letter has no date on it, no envelope but it must have been written in August for you to be sending Charlotte a birthday card. She must be in Hawaii or wherever Necho was stationed to be far enough away to "come back for a visit". That would make it around 1974. I had spent several weeks in Greenville, Texas with you and Nanny while you recuperated there from Sonny. So you're writing from Greenville and more than likely, David is having to wait with us - me, Michelle, Dad and Patty, the evil redheaded stepmonster. David has body lice and will give it to me and Michelle. He will threaten Patty with numchucks. She will tell Dad he can't stay with us. I won't see him again until 1981.
The theme of this letter is lost kittens and children. Your son is mentally ill and in limbo, your youngest daughter has just left you again. Your eldest is too far away and even when near is so hard to reach. Charlotte is such a stone. How difficult for a mother to feel so helpless with three spiritual umbilical cords tangled in thick briars and across too many miles.
You will send me a photo of me and Nanny riding her lawnmower. We are both wearing halter tops, our shoulders are bare. We are smiling like idiots, her smile perhaps obligatory and for the camera, me because of the perfect summer, the smell of cut grass, you nearby and tomatoes ripe for picking. There is nowhere else I want to be.
I've been thinking that I'm too hard on you all these years later. But anger is a stage of grief and I didn't feel angry at all for the longest time. I missed you like a lover. I remember knowing I'd be seeing you when I was nine or ten, dressing in the bathroom, packing a suitcase. I looked in the mirror, my stomach a tumble of butterflies. I couldn't stand still, contain my joy. A deep sense of longing was established as the primary component of love. This would cause many problems later in life, a series of untouchable men who could not love.
There is a birthday card in the saved letters with a cartoon of a fat orange kitten surrounded by orange daisies, green eucalyptus and pink butterflies. In it you wrote:
I don't know when I'll be able to come up, but I do know I get a couple of days off for Christmas and am coming up then. As soon as I find out the exact days, I'll let you know. I'll stay with Doris and Granddaddy (or maybe Betty or Dorothy) and if it's okay with your daddy, maybe you can spend the night and we'll have our own little Christmas, okay? I'm sorry I couldn't get you a better present but by Christmas I'll have more money. I love you tho, very much. I'll call you.
Love, Mother
You wrote me a poem:
She was so tiny and so warm,
This jewel that to me was born,
Truly a gift from God above,
I thanked Him, my heart full of love.
Many hours of joy she gave,
A brightness in darkness she made,
And she's still a star in my eyes,
Brighter than all others in the sky.
I'm thankful for those few years,
When I could rock her or dry her tears,
And pray that God will help her know,
To me she's more priceless than silver or gold.
For Teresa
From Mother
I don't know if we ever had our own little Christmas, unless it was the one we spent with your Aunt Blanche and Uncle Joe. Betty and Dorothy are lifelong friends. Betty will one day sing at your funeral and her husband, James, will officiate. James will do the same at David's funeral. You and your son are buried together in Rosehill Cemetery. I have not visited since 1992 when David was buried because neither of you are really there. There is only marble, dirt and fake flowers. Nothing more. Nanny was nearby but her husband Windy had her body moved. I don't know why this is so sad to me if the graves mean nothing. Maybe because you were so separate from your mother in the last years. It seems you should be buried together now. You only survived her by a year.
Granddaddy is your father who will die of cancer in 1976. Doris is your stepmother whom everyone will blame for enabling Granddaddy to drink. I remember visiting him in the hospital before he went home to die, Doris walking him to the bathroom to urinate despite his having a catheter. His constant urgency might have been a missed infection, and Doris could not convince him that the toilet was not needed. He was out of it, a ghost of himself, a shuffling figure with a large swathe of gauze taped to his neck where the throat cancer and surgery had left a gaping hole. I never saw him alive again except for a brief moment at his home, in a hospital bed at the back of the house, hidden. Doris nursed him in the last days. What a horrible room to die in, so small and dead already.
I will always remember 1976 as the bicentennial, my last year of elementary school, the year Grandaddy - Seabourne Andrew - and Elvis Aaron Presley died. A few months later my guinea pig, Mac, would die in a hard freeze and I would decide that things left or died in my world during even-numbered years. I haven't trusted them since.
Glad to get your letter, and glad Mac is fine.
The kittens have disappeared. There are some new kids in the neighborhood and we just hope they got them. They must have, for both of them to disappear, at the same time.
Not much news I guess. Like I told you when you were here, I was hoping David could stay with me when he leaves the hospital, and your daddy called me the other day and asked if I could take David. So as soon as I can get a place of my own he can come. I just wish he didn't have to stay there, to wait. But it can't be helped.
I got a letter from Charlotte the other day, and she said she had been pregnant, but she lost it. I sent her a birthday card and some money yesterday. Maybe they'll come back for a visit before long.
As soon as I get some of the pictures Nanny took while you were here, I'll send you some.
Well honey, I guess that's all for now. Be sweet and remember I love you. I sure do miss you.
Love,
Mother
This letter has no date on it, no envelope but it must have been written in August for you to be sending Charlotte a birthday card. She must be in Hawaii or wherever Necho was stationed to be far enough away to "come back for a visit". That would make it around 1974. I had spent several weeks in Greenville, Texas with you and Nanny while you recuperated there from Sonny. So you're writing from Greenville and more than likely, David is having to wait with us - me, Michelle, Dad and Patty, the evil redheaded stepmonster. David has body lice and will give it to me and Michelle. He will threaten Patty with numchucks. She will tell Dad he can't stay with us. I won't see him again until 1981.
The theme of this letter is lost kittens and children. Your son is mentally ill and in limbo, your youngest daughter has just left you again. Your eldest is too far away and even when near is so hard to reach. Charlotte is such a stone. How difficult for a mother to feel so helpless with three spiritual umbilical cords tangled in thick briars and across too many miles.
You will send me a photo of me and Nanny riding her lawnmower. We are both wearing halter tops, our shoulders are bare. We are smiling like idiots, her smile perhaps obligatory and for the camera, me because of the perfect summer, the smell of cut grass, you nearby and tomatoes ripe for picking. There is nowhere else I want to be.
I've been thinking that I'm too hard on you all these years later. But anger is a stage of grief and I didn't feel angry at all for the longest time. I missed you like a lover. I remember knowing I'd be seeing you when I was nine or ten, dressing in the bathroom, packing a suitcase. I looked in the mirror, my stomach a tumble of butterflies. I couldn't stand still, contain my joy. A deep sense of longing was established as the primary component of love. This would cause many problems later in life, a series of untouchable men who could not love.
There is a birthday card in the saved letters with a cartoon of a fat orange kitten surrounded by orange daisies, green eucalyptus and pink butterflies. In it you wrote:
I don't know when I'll be able to come up, but I do know I get a couple of days off for Christmas and am coming up then. As soon as I find out the exact days, I'll let you know. I'll stay with Doris and Granddaddy (or maybe Betty or Dorothy) and if it's okay with your daddy, maybe you can spend the night and we'll have our own little Christmas, okay? I'm sorry I couldn't get you a better present but by Christmas I'll have more money. I love you tho, very much. I'll call you.
Love, Mother
You wrote me a poem:
She was so tiny and so warm,
This jewel that to me was born,
Truly a gift from God above,
I thanked Him, my heart full of love.
Many hours of joy she gave,
A brightness in darkness she made,
And she's still a star in my eyes,
Brighter than all others in the sky.
I'm thankful for those few years,
When I could rock her or dry her tears,
And pray that God will help her know,
To me she's more priceless than silver or gold.
For Teresa
From Mother
I don't know if we ever had our own little Christmas, unless it was the one we spent with your Aunt Blanche and Uncle Joe. Betty and Dorothy are lifelong friends. Betty will one day sing at your funeral and her husband, James, will officiate. James will do the same at David's funeral. You and your son are buried together in Rosehill Cemetery. I have not visited since 1992 when David was buried because neither of you are really there. There is only marble, dirt and fake flowers. Nothing more. Nanny was nearby but her husband Windy had her body moved. I don't know why this is so sad to me if the graves mean nothing. Maybe because you were so separate from your mother in the last years. It seems you should be buried together now. You only survived her by a year.
Granddaddy is your father who will die of cancer in 1976. Doris is your stepmother whom everyone will blame for enabling Granddaddy to drink. I remember visiting him in the hospital before he went home to die, Doris walking him to the bathroom to urinate despite his having a catheter. His constant urgency might have been a missed infection, and Doris could not convince him that the toilet was not needed. He was out of it, a ghost of himself, a shuffling figure with a large swathe of gauze taped to his neck where the throat cancer and surgery had left a gaping hole. I never saw him alive again except for a brief moment at his home, in a hospital bed at the back of the house, hidden. Doris nursed him in the last days. What a horrible room to die in, so small and dead already.
I will always remember 1976 as the bicentennial, my last year of elementary school, the year Grandaddy - Seabourne Andrew - and Elvis Aaron Presley died. A few months later my guinea pig, Mac, would die in a hard freeze and I would decide that things left or died in my world during even-numbered years. I haven't trusted them since.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Conversations With the Dead: 11/5/79 Houston, Texas
Saturday
Dear Teresa,
Well honey, I guess you've been wondering why I haven't written. Your mother has been going through another crisis. Phil started drinking again, and of course I ended up doing it too. It's just not going to work for us. As nice a guy as he is, I just can't go it anymore.
He won't go to AA and it just seems like we've both changed or something, and even when there's no drinking, it's not like before. I guess I really don't have any business with anyone. I can make it alone, and with AA, but trying to have a relationship with anyone at this stage seems impossible. (I'm talking about men in general). I have to try to really get into AA again (like I was in church, in fact, I had even started going back to church) and try to grow up, and get to where I can like myself before I can get involved with anyone. You know me. Whole hog or nothing.
And I just flat cannot drink. I get worse, and meaner, every time, and part of it is because I dislike myself so much, and I take it out on other people. It has to stop. I can't be in AA like I need to, and do the things I need to do, and live with Phil. So if I want to change, and if I want to learn to live, I have to give him up. Sounds simple, but it's not easy. I hate to hurt him. It'd be much easier if he were a jackass, but he's not. But I have to put staying sober first, and he's not ready to do that, and I can't do it by staying with him.
But anyway, I've got a new address and I wanted to let you know what was going on. I'm staying at a halfway house with some other women right now, so unless I can get a job and a car awful fast (and an apartment!) it looks like you coming down here in December will have to be put off. But this is where I need to be right now. And I can live here, and work, and maybe get things worked out pretty soon, with my check. I pay rent here, but by working, and my check, I can make it in three months or so. I haven't even made up my mind to stay in Houston. In a way (because of you and Charlotte) I'd like to come back there. But we'll have to wait and see. First things first. Anyway, don't worry, because these are good people here, and I think this decision is going to be the turning point. We all have to grow up, and learn to stand on our own two feet, and I think it's about time I did that.
I love you honey, and I'm so very proud of you. Just keep it up, and write me here. I may be coming back soon, for good. Then we'll be able to see each other often. But I have to "get it together" first. But I love you, and "turd-head" Charlotte, too (you tell her for me, and tell her to send me a picture of the baby). Write me.
Love, Mother
P.S. A girlfriend of mine is keeping Charlie and he's doing fine. I'm sure he'd say HI, too.
About ten years ago I found a resale shop in Houston and went in. I got to talking to an employee and learned that the women who ran the shop lived in a halfway house next door. Some were running from abusers, some were running from addiction. I realized that this is where you wrote this letter from, the place on Dupont. I feel disappointment even as I type this because although this was a turning point for you, it was a brief pause in just another U-turn.
You are right about staying single, but you'll lose your resolve in six months.
Dear Teresa,
Well honey, I guess you've been wondering why I haven't written. Your mother has been going through another crisis. Phil started drinking again, and of course I ended up doing it too. It's just not going to work for us. As nice a guy as he is, I just can't go it anymore.
He won't go to AA and it just seems like we've both changed or something, and even when there's no drinking, it's not like before. I guess I really don't have any business with anyone. I can make it alone, and with AA, but trying to have a relationship with anyone at this stage seems impossible. (I'm talking about men in general). I have to try to really get into AA again (like I was in church, in fact, I had even started going back to church) and try to grow up, and get to where I can like myself before I can get involved with anyone. You know me. Whole hog or nothing.
And I just flat cannot drink. I get worse, and meaner, every time, and part of it is because I dislike myself so much, and I take it out on other people. It has to stop. I can't be in AA like I need to, and do the things I need to do, and live with Phil. So if I want to change, and if I want to learn to live, I have to give him up. Sounds simple, but it's not easy. I hate to hurt him. It'd be much easier if he were a jackass, but he's not. But I have to put staying sober first, and he's not ready to do that, and I can't do it by staying with him.
But anyway, I've got a new address and I wanted to let you know what was going on. I'm staying at a halfway house with some other women right now, so unless I can get a job and a car awful fast (and an apartment!) it looks like you coming down here in December will have to be put off. But this is where I need to be right now. And I can live here, and work, and maybe get things worked out pretty soon, with my check. I pay rent here, but by working, and my check, I can make it in three months or so. I haven't even made up my mind to stay in Houston. In a way (because of you and Charlotte) I'd like to come back there. But we'll have to wait and see. First things first. Anyway, don't worry, because these are good people here, and I think this decision is going to be the turning point. We all have to grow up, and learn to stand on our own two feet, and I think it's about time I did that.
I love you honey, and I'm so very proud of you. Just keep it up, and write me here. I may be coming back soon, for good. Then we'll be able to see each other often. But I have to "get it together" first. But I love you, and "turd-head" Charlotte, too (you tell her for me, and tell her to send me a picture of the baby). Write me.
Love, Mother
P.S. A girlfriend of mine is keeping Charlie and he's doing fine. I'm sure he'd say HI, too.
About ten years ago I found a resale shop in Houston and went in. I got to talking to an employee and learned that the women who ran the shop lived in a halfway house next door. Some were running from abusers, some were running from addiction. I realized that this is where you wrote this letter from, the place on Dupont. I feel disappointment even as I type this because although this was a turning point for you, it was a brief pause in just another U-turn.
You are right about staying single, but you'll lose your resolve in six months.
Conversations With the Dead: 10/1/79 Houston, Texas
Friday
Dear Teresa,
Got your letter, and I also talked to Charlotte. I told her to be sure and have Mike or you call me when the baby comes. She may end up having it on Linda's birthday.
Call me and let me know when Charlene decides when you can come down. Phil and I will come get you. That's an awful long bus ride. If you can only stay a few days, it'd be something. At least we could have a little time together. I sure hope they agree, since it's hard for me to get up there to see you often. And not having a car yet, doesn't help. I'm still planning on getting one, as soon as I can. But around here, everything's within walking distance. It's real handy.
So you're vice president? How about that. And who may I ask is Dr. Jeff? I think you may have mentioned him before, but I've forgotten. Tell me about him.
I called David right after I talked to you, but he had left that morning. It's a durn shame that people are so self-righteous and self-centered. He'll probably never try "home" again. I wouldn't! I just wish he'd gotten my phone number before he left. I haven't seen or talked to him for over three years. (I think I'm mad, too).
Charlie's not doing very good, but he's taking some more medicine and I take him back to the vet Tuesday. I sure hope he makes it. He's so sweet. I'm going to get some film this weekend and take some pictures of him. I may wait and mail this and send you one.
Well, I guess that's all my news. I bought me a bookcase, and I took all the paint off it an d now I've got to repaint it. I hope you can come down. We'll have a Christmas tree and everything! So let me hear from you, and be sweet. Call me, when you can. I love you.
Love, Mother
PS Didn't get any film. Try to get some next week Bye.
Dr. Jeff is a doctor at Arlington Community Hospital where I'm a candy striper. I had a crush on him, nothing serious. I remember his full name now - Jeff Horn. How funny, the things we remember. I think I was vice-president of some group in home economics class, which I completely sucked at. That should have told me something about my future domestic skills.
Your handwriting is getting shaky again. You're about to get sucked into another whirlpool.
Dear Teresa,
Got your letter, and I also talked to Charlotte. I told her to be sure and have Mike or you call me when the baby comes. She may end up having it on Linda's birthday.
Call me and let me know when Charlene decides when you can come down. Phil and I will come get you. That's an awful long bus ride. If you can only stay a few days, it'd be something. At least we could have a little time together. I sure hope they agree, since it's hard for me to get up there to see you often. And not having a car yet, doesn't help. I'm still planning on getting one, as soon as I can. But around here, everything's within walking distance. It's real handy.
So you're vice president? How about that. And who may I ask is Dr. Jeff? I think you may have mentioned him before, but I've forgotten. Tell me about him.
I called David right after I talked to you, but he had left that morning. It's a durn shame that people are so self-righteous and self-centered. He'll probably never try "home" again. I wouldn't! I just wish he'd gotten my phone number before he left. I haven't seen or talked to him for over three years. (I think I'm mad, too).
Charlie's not doing very good, but he's taking some more medicine and I take him back to the vet Tuesday. I sure hope he makes it. He's so sweet. I'm going to get some film this weekend and take some pictures of him. I may wait and mail this and send you one.
Well, I guess that's all my news. I bought me a bookcase, and I took all the paint off it an d now I've got to repaint it. I hope you can come down. We'll have a Christmas tree and everything! So let me hear from you, and be sweet. Call me, when you can. I love you.
Love, Mother
PS Didn't get any film. Try to get some next week Bye.
Dr. Jeff is a doctor at Arlington Community Hospital where I'm a candy striper. I had a crush on him, nothing serious. I remember his full name now - Jeff Horn. How funny, the things we remember. I think I was vice-president of some group in home economics class, which I completely sucked at. That should have told me something about my future domestic skills.
Your handwriting is getting shaky again. You're about to get sucked into another whirlpool.
Conversations With the Dead: 9/7/79 Houston, Texas
Thursday
Dear Teresa,
Well, I've been busy this morning. It's just 8:30 am, and I've already cleaned my oven (ugh!) and got a washing done.
I guess Charlene told you I called. I would have waited until later, so I could talk to you, but I knew they were going to cut my phone off yesterday (can't pay the bill right now. I'll get it back later) and I didn't want you to be worrying about me or anything. Everything's okay now. In fact, I've started going to AA again (like Jimmie and I did) and also Sally and Dan Borkowski are still here. They have a friend here named Verna (I don't know if you ever met her or not) and she lives real close. In fact, while I was sick, she had her whole church pray for me, and of course Sally and Dan were too. And I'm sure that's why I came to myself enough to call AA for help. I had a bad resentment against AA when Jimmie got sick and died, and had said I'd never go back, but HE had other ideas. Anyway, it was a miracle in itself, that I called. So don't worry, because I know HE's helping me. Why I don't know, but I know HE is.
I wish we could have spent more time together, but next time I come up there, we will.
How is Charlotte doing? (She's mad at me, and so is Nanny). I know she's due to have the baby this month. Keep me informed, so I won't worry. And let me know how your school, etc. is going. I'm very proud of you, and I want you to keep it up.
Tell Charlene that I appreciate how nice she was when I called. You're better off there than with Patty or your Dad. And love your Daddy. He's had a hard time of it, and I do know he loves you.
Well, I guess this is all for now. Just always remember I love you, and let me hear form you. Tell everyone HI from me.
Love,
Mother
PS Phil's at work, but he said to tell you HI when I wrote.
Well, your phone didn't last long. I wondered, from here, if you could afford it when you paid that deposit.
You going back to AA and saying you were "sick" confirmed everyone's suspicions. That's why Charlotte and Nanny are angry. They aren't gentle forgiving spirits. They don't understand addiction, I guess, and neither did I as a child, but I could never imagine not loving or needing you then, in whatever form you were available.
Verna must be your sponsor.
I must have said something negative about Dad for you to defend him. You still love him. I probably resent him for leaving me with Charlene. Maybe it was the best place for me, but he's my father and too easily handed me over. He said to Charlotte just before I moved in with Pat and Charlene, "What do you expect me to do? Get an apartment with just Teresa and me?"
I'm glad you had so much trust in God, but maybe you relied a little too much on powers outside yourself. Today I felt a hot rage reading about how "HE" helped you, how "HE" got all the credit for your recovery, temporary as it was. Ridiculous. In fact I realize just today that it was you who killed God for me.
Dear Teresa,
Well, I've been busy this morning. It's just 8:30 am, and I've already cleaned my oven (ugh!) and got a washing done.
I guess Charlene told you I called. I would have waited until later, so I could talk to you, but I knew they were going to cut my phone off yesterday (can't pay the bill right now. I'll get it back later) and I didn't want you to be worrying about me or anything. Everything's okay now. In fact, I've started going to AA again (like Jimmie and I did) and also Sally and Dan Borkowski are still here. They have a friend here named Verna (I don't know if you ever met her or not) and she lives real close. In fact, while I was sick, she had her whole church pray for me, and of course Sally and Dan were too. And I'm sure that's why I came to myself enough to call AA for help. I had a bad resentment against AA when Jimmie got sick and died, and had said I'd never go back, but HE had other ideas. Anyway, it was a miracle in itself, that I called. So don't worry, because I know HE's helping me. Why I don't know, but I know HE is.
I wish we could have spent more time together, but next time I come up there, we will.
How is Charlotte doing? (She's mad at me, and so is Nanny). I know she's due to have the baby this month. Keep me informed, so I won't worry. And let me know how your school, etc. is going. I'm very proud of you, and I want you to keep it up.
Tell Charlene that I appreciate how nice she was when I called. You're better off there than with Patty or your Dad. And love your Daddy. He's had a hard time of it, and I do know he loves you.
Well, I guess this is all for now. Just always remember I love you, and let me hear form you. Tell everyone HI from me.
Love,
Mother
PS Phil's at work, but he said to tell you HI when I wrote.
Well, your phone didn't last long. I wondered, from here, if you could afford it when you paid that deposit.
You going back to AA and saying you were "sick" confirmed everyone's suspicions. That's why Charlotte and Nanny are angry. They aren't gentle forgiving spirits. They don't understand addiction, I guess, and neither did I as a child, but I could never imagine not loving or needing you then, in whatever form you were available.
Verna must be your sponsor.
I must have said something negative about Dad for you to defend him. You still love him. I probably resent him for leaving me with Charlene. Maybe it was the best place for me, but he's my father and too easily handed me over. He said to Charlotte just before I moved in with Pat and Charlene, "What do you expect me to do? Get an apartment with just Teresa and me?"
I'm glad you had so much trust in God, but maybe you relied a little too much on powers outside yourself. Today I felt a hot rage reading about how "HE" helped you, how "HE" got all the credit for your recovery, temporary as it was. Ridiculous. In fact I realize just today that it was you who killed God for me.
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