Judged

I always thought that I was a really good judge of character. Don’t we all? I have heard people admit that they are selfish, lazy, unorganized, vain, but I don’t recall anyone ever saying to me that they are a bad judge of character. Why is that?  Do we want to see the best (or worst) in people despite contrary evidence? I have been struggling with this concept lately. I think most people are embarrassed to admit that they were wrong about someone’s character when their hearts were broken or money was stolen.

I met Jake a couple of years back when he still was a boy. The first time I saw him, he was walking his dog by our house. At the time, I thought maybe he would be a good friend for my son. One day I just happened to be looking out the window when Jake walked by. I just let my dog out and was looking towards the road when I saw Jake’s dog drag him over the meet my dog. In the process, Jake got clotheslined on our mailbox. The dog further dragged him into the ditch. Jake laid wounded on the grass with blood coming out of his neck. I freaked out. I sent my oldest daughter out to get him while I panicked. Eventually I bandaged up some of his wounds and gave him a warm washcloth to put on his scraped and bloody neck. I tracked down his muddy mutt and loaded them into my car to give them a ride home. Welcome to the neighborhood!

A few days later, Jake’s mom sent me a note thanking me for taking care of her son. I still have it which is remarkable because I throw everything out. Over the years, Jake and my son became very good friends. I always liked Jake. He was courteous, quiet, happy, friendly, and kind. He always thanked me when I gave him a ride to school. He was the kind of kid that I wanted my son to hang out with.

Then this summer, things changed. Jake grew into a troubled teen. He was no longer happy. He stopped thanking me for rides. He went to the gas station and stole a pack of cigarettes. His parents made him return them and apologize to the owners. He was grounded for over a month from everything. Then one cool rainy night, he ran away which I blogged about previously. He vanished for almost 48 hours, then went back to school like none of it ever happened. He was present, but not quite there.

A few days after Jake went back to school, his mom texted me with concern. She said that a teacher asked the students to draw a picture of what they were doing for the weekend. Jake drew a picture of himself alone in the corner of his room with his knees folded and his head down in despair.

Then a few weeks later, a note came home from school stating that a student talked about bringing a gun to school. Apparently, a boy had created a hit list with 6 names on it and stated that he was going to bring 7 bullets to school. It was Jake. Jake said that he didn’t mean it, but he was sent away for a couple of weeks for treatment.

Last week I saw Jake walking his dog when I went on a long run. I asked him how he was doing. He smiled and replied that he was doing good. I just have to wonder if his smile was sinister or sincere. I always liked Jake and thought he was a good person. I still want to believe that despite all of the contrary evidence. How could I be so wrong?? In my mind, he is still the sweet and caring boy that I first met years ago. Not the troubled teen that he has become. I have been having a really hard time with this. I feel unsettled, I want to trust him again but can’t. I feel thankful that the troubles with my teens are trivial in comparison. I worry about his family. I pray that Jake can find the friendly and happy boy he once was.

Grounded for life, part 3

Sometimes I sit and wonder about the things that I haven’t thought about in a long time. Sometimes that bothers me. I wonder why if Randy did some bad things, things that he ended up in prison for, why he never hurt me. He had the opportunity to hurt me, but didn’t. Why was I spared that pain? Was it simply because God knew that would put me over the tipping point of more than I could handle. Randy did some very bad things, but never did anything wrong, illegal, or immoral with my friends or I. Nothing beyond his vandalism of signs and driving fast on country roads without seat belts. Mainly we just joked around and laughed.

One of the last times I saw Randy was right around his 18th birthday. He told Shelly and I that some friends were throwing him a party. He wanted us to come out to celebrate with him. At the time, Shelly was living with me at my parents house. She wasn’t the first friend to live with me for several months. The minute Shelly turned 18, she lived with us until graduation. Her parents weren’t bad per se. They were smothering her with their overprotectiveness. Shelly never really did anything wrong, they never let her.

We showed up to Randy’s party at his friends’ house. It was the first time and thankfully the last time that I saw these friends of his. His friends were in their 30’s, seemed kind of strange but ok. We sat in the living room with the 3 teenage children of his friends. The six of us sat in awkward silence ready for the party to start. The couple throwing the party were in the kitchen behind a closed door. Something was wrong, there was yelling. It sounded like plates were being thrown and smashing against the wall. There was a struggle of some sort, a banging against the wall. Randy went to check things out. The screams continued. Randy came back and said that we were getting the hell out of there, something about someone chasing someone around with a butcher knife.

The three of us jumped into my car and as we were trying to leave the cops showed up. The cops said that we couldn’t leave the scene of a crime. They took us inside and threatened us with blood tests to test our alcohol levels. Our course we said that we didn’t mind because we hadn’t been drinking. I didn’t even see the domestic dispute so I was little help answering questions. Eventually they let us go. We dropped Randy off at another friends house. Happy birthday, it sure was memorable.

When Shelly and I got back to my house her parents called and chewed her out for being at a wild party. Guess they just hung around their house listening to the police scanner until eventually they could tell her what crappy kids Shelly and I were. A big part of me felt bad that day knowing that sometimes life doesn’t turn out like it should.

Taking the sails out of the wind

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The dark days are now upon us. Night time lights go on at mid day. It is dark when I wake and after supper at night. I feel sleepy and unmotivated. My body and heart yearn for hibernation. My head tells me to work harder, there is nothing outside tearing me away. My body lags.

For Paul, it is a sad day. The day that the sailboat comes out of the water for the season.

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I decided to share some pictures of our days in the sun.

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We had many adventures this year rescuing a stranded boater, unexpected strong storms while sailing overnight for our anniversary, and our goodbyes to some best friends while sailing.

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This year brought a new sport of sail racing. I can’t wait to see what adventures next year will bring.

Just rubbish

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The last couple of weeks of cleaning out my grandma’s house turned up a lot of junk. I would say 90% junk and 10% real treasure. Today’s post is basically trash talk. This weekend I will bring out the treasure. This is just the teaser. We have emptied out 2 dumpsters already. I come from a long line of pack rats, or according to my sister-in-laws borderline hoarders. I feel bad because my future sister-in-law didn’t even meet my grandparents to see how wonderful they were. This dumpster full is mainly from the garage. I am sure that the house will be a couple more dumpsters full. To think my dad said that we could just bag up the garbage and put it on the curb. I told him I wouldn’t do any cleaning until there was a dumpster.

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I found the box above hidden in the back of a closet excited over what might be inside. Surprise, nothing! The 2 years that my parents lived there when I was a baby turned up boxes and bags full of even more crap. Phone books from the 70’s, my baby clothes, stained old elastic shot shirts, and I even found a box with my baby teeth. Gross!

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I did find my grandma’s wedding dress pictured above. I remember trying it on when I was 12, telling my grandma that it will be my wedding dress someday. The problem is that it fit me when I was a tiny 12 year old. My youngest daughter, at 12, is bigger than me now. So, that is not going to happen. Plus the buttons on the back of the dress are rusting and bleeding into the dress. I am thinking of restoring it, but for what purpose? It will never be worn again. I hope someday my grandchildren will not be cleaning it out of my closet not knowing where it came from. No memories of their wonderfully great grandparents.

A little out of range

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This past weekend was long. We spent half of the weekend cleaning out my grandma’s house. The rest of the weekend I did my 12 mile run followed by watching my daughters perform in a summer school musical theater show. It was a little difficult to watch my oldest daughter perform. She had the lead part and as a senior, it was her last summer school show. Her childhood is coming to an end. My mom and Matt came out to the show, which involved some inappropriate public behavior on Matt’s part. Minor stuff, like yawning loudly and getting up to stretch out his legs in the middle of the show. At least they came out, which I appreciated. My in-laws didn’t bother to come to the show, but stopped by shortly after we got home. My daughters asked their grandparents why they didn’t come to the show. They said they were too busy shopping. They were planning on coming out but didn’t show, which is not abnormal behavior for them. I don’t even bother telling the girls that their grandparents were coming just in case. The last time they cancelled out last minute brought so many tears before a show that it wasn’t worth the hurt. I don’t know how they had the audacity to stop by after shopping. It is what it is.

By the time the weekend was over I felt exhausted and a bit troubled. Cleaning out my grandma’s house has forced me to clean out tons of physical and emotional cobwebs. My brother Mark found this oven (pictured above) while cleaning. I recognized it as mine. Inside there were magazine cutouts of finished recipes. Mark said that I must really have liked to cook because the front right burner was wore out. I thought nothing of it. Then this morning it hit me. It started with a small noise at work. Then it took me back. I could hear a horrible grating sound, scratching like nails on a chalkboard over and over. Then I saw Matt’s hand with a big yellow Lego scratching my oven over and over. I think he was loud, screaming. The next time grandma watched us my stove was banished, locked in a shed for 30 years. A few tears escaped my eyes. My heart mourned over the many things I lost.

It never was supposed to be that way, but it was.