A Simple Life of Confusion

The day my new baby sister was born, February 27, 1970, we also had a new baby calf born. We named the calf George and the new sister, Tammy. I think mom and dad named their baby daughter after the Overton’s oldest daughter.  Tammy’s birthday came two days after my own.

Mom knew she could be having her baby anytime, so she made a cake for me and had it ready on my birthday, which was on the 25th. For a present, I got a small Matchbox car. It was an ambulance and had doors that opened. Some might raise their eyes at such a meager gift. In those days, I could play for hours with a small car with doors that opened. I suppose many kids just didn't expect as much in 1970.

My world was small. Dinner was usually on the table at around 5:00 or 6:00 p.m. each day. Dad came home at the same time after teaching school at the Brooklyn Junior High. Folks were generally pleasant and happy. I had a warm bed. And cartoons came on every Saturday morning at 5:30 a.m. That was my life.

Occasionally things would erupt into chaos. One day, Grandpa and Grandma Hicks came over for dinner. After dinner, everyone was sitting around talking. Mikey and I went off to play and the adults were sitting in the living room. Suddenly, crap hit the fan.

I always knew when dad was really mad because he would yell. The crescendo from his voice at the high end, when he was driving home a point, could rattle mom’s plates in the cupboard. Dad and mom and Grandpa Hicks were yelling back and forth. At first, I thought it was a game and they were all celebrating. Not so.

It was a yelling match and nobody was winning. What a boondoggle of confusion! Grandma Hicks turned off her hearing aids and sat back saying nothing. I had noticed a long time before this shouting match, that’s what she did when grandpa started yelling. Then he could scream to his heart’s delight and she wouldn't have to hear all the vile threats and cursing flying out of his mouth. It seemed to happen a lot when they were both driving in the same car. Grandpa would drive while screaming and yelling at all the other drivers, street lights, and at grandma. She would simply turn her hearing aids down and drown out the hollering. The few times I rode with them was an adventure in survival. The comedic value watching and listening to this duo was overshadowed only by the terror of listening to grandpa's cursing of everything from heaven to earth.

Anyway, this particular night, Grandpa wanted to borrow some of mom’s music records. She had a lot and they were a large part of her treasures. Like most people’s treasures, she didn't want them out of her sight. I guess the thought of grandpa taking them home and listening to them caused her a lot of anxiety and she refused to let them leave the house. Grandpa was known for his terrible temper and that was enough to cause him to explode. I think dad felt compelled to stick up for mom since she was his wife, so he yelled back. Within moments, the house was filled with the sound of adults screaming terrible things back and forth.

Grandpa accused mom of being selfish and dad accused grandpa of a lot of things that must have happened years before. Not much of the verbal warfare made any sense to me, but, in retrospect, it seemed there was a lot of tense anxiety between these people that had never been resolved. Years of hurt and frustration bottled up inside a person can come boiling out when the discussion of borrowing records comes up.

After what seemed like an eternity, the fighting stopped. Mom was crying and Grandpa and dad sat there for awhile with nothing more to say to each other. The hurt and pain were out there and nobody was wondering anymore. That was the first time I had seen adults scream at each other and it scared the hell out of me. A few years before, Grandpa Hicks had screamed at me when I kept him awake with my obsessive opening and closing of the bathroom door, but I was a kid. Kids were supposed to be yelled at. But adults’ yelling at each other was a different story.

A grand compromise was decided upon. The adults hugged each other. Grandma turned her hearing aids back on. Everyone made-up, and grandpa left with a few records tucked under his arms. It all seemed fairly simple in the end, but it took vile threats, screaming, and a lot of yelling to arrive at that point. It was all confusing to me, but seemed to be the way with adults. They got out their angst, made up, and moved on.

To a young kid, life was confusing but simple. My life was a daily routine that revolved around getting in enough recreation, doing a few chores that mom demanded be done according to her specifications, staying out of Mike’s way so I didn’t get pounded, and playing with a Matchbox car with doors that opened.