Not flesh of my flesh,
Nor bone of my bone,
But still, miraculously, my own.
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn’t grow under my heart,
But in it!
~anonymous~
Love, Mama
Not flesh of my flesh,
Nor bone of my bone,
But still, miraculously, my own.
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn’t grow under my heart,
But in it!
~anonymous~
Love, Mama
It’s your birthday! You’re now 45 years old. Where has the time gone? It seems like yesterday that I answered the door and Susan placed a 7 week old baby in my arms. Your room and your bed had been waiting for months in anticipation of that day. Little did I know that the little green outfit and the green bedding would follow you all through your teen years. (Do you still like green today?)
Susan brought two trainees with her because she knew that I wouldn’t mind. Tony and Andy were watching Sesame Street. The ‘case workers three’ had never seen it. They sat down to watch while I fixed you a bottle. When I came back into the living room, The boys were holding you and the caseworkers were on the floor watching the show.
When your dad came in from work, he watched the three of you while I went to the store to get diapers, formula, and baby food. When I got home, I took over again and called my parents to let them know that they had a new granddaughter. My mother answered. She wasn’t enthused. My father was ‘out on the road’ and she was busy all weekend, but she might be able to come down in a week or two. I thought, ‘Oh, really? Here we go again.’
She asked how old you were and how big you were and what did you look like. Then she paused and said, “How old did you say she was?” My reply was 7 weeks. “When is her birthday?” November 29. “REALLY?” I said yes, that was true. She was so excited that she wanted to come visit right then, but by then you were ready for bed, so she would come the next day. She was ecstatic because you shared the same birthday, so it was ‘meant to be’.
What’s her name? Angela Maria Elizabeth. Why so many? Here’s the story on that. I had a dream while we were waiting for ‘our next child’. We knew that the baby would be a girl and that was all. But my dream said that I should name her Maria. Someone argued that it had to be Marie, not Maria, because that was only right. But I loved the song Maria from West Side Story and Maria it would be.
Of course, my spouse had a say and he wanted Angie because he loved the show Police Woman and Angie Dickinson was the star. Needless to say, I thought that he loved Angie Dickinson and so watched the show. So… Angela Maria it was.
You were our last child. We had our sons and now I had my baby girl. But I wanted to honor the caseworker that had placed all three of you in our home. Her name is Susan Elizabeth Kinz. Angela Maria Susan didn’t sound right. And I liked biblical names. So you now became Angela Maria Elizabeth and were no longer Carla Louann Brummett.
Of course, we were required to take you to a doctor for a checkup right away. You were healthy in every way except for a couple of things. You had a milk allergy. The only thing you could drink was Nutramigen, which cost over $20 a container way back in 1976. I drove from Columbus to Ft. Harrison to pick up a case each month. They ordered it especially for you and it came through their pharmacy.
The other problem was your club feet. They almost immediately put you in two casts from your hips to your toes. Keeping them clean while changing you was interesting to say the least! Almost everyone thought that would hold you back. But I watched your determination. It wasn’t long before you were using the weight of the cast to throw one leg over the other to turn over.
After you had gone through two sets of casts, they put you in special shoes that had a bar between them to hold your feet correctly. It still didn’t stop you. You just flipped right over. You were easier to change because I could use the bar like a handle and lift you easily.
Changing you easily was important because when you were 7 weeks old, I was 7 weeks pregnant and told I needed to stay in bed. LOL! I had a new baby, a 2 year old still in diapers, and a 4 year old! But we managed. You laid in the curve of my arm on the couch while the boys played in the floor and watched tv most of the day.
Fast forward. I’m now in the kitchen of our ‘new house’ in Hope. I was standing in the kitchen, holding Manda in one arm, while cooking. I looked to the right, down the hallway towards the ‘girl bedroom’ and saw you in the hall, headed my way. It hit me! You were 2 and had two fuzzy puffs in your hair and looked a lot like Minnie Mouse. But you were the little girl in my dream of so long ago. The one that was supposed to be Marie, not Maria, because that was only right. You see, the girl that gave birth to you was Zina Marie. It was all just meant to be.
It wasn’t long after that time that we went to Target. We being my parents, your siblings, you, and me. We adults each took one child and one took two. We divided up and did our shopping and met back at the car. I put Manda in the car, gramps put Jason in the car and my mother put Tony in. There was an empty car seat and no extra kids. Where did you go? We panicked thinking that you were loose in the parking lot and would get hit. My mother stayed with the car. My father looked in the parking lot, and I went into the store. I didn’t see you. I asked a woman at the checkout if she’d seen a little girl about 3, described you and what you were wearing. She laughed and said, “Yes, she’s in the big aisle at the back running up and down it.”
I got back to that back aisle and what did I see? You running like a wild woman all the way down to the end. Then, when you turned around and started running back, I could see that you were laughing hysterically. I caught you and asked why you left us. You laughed and said, “I did it! I sneaked away and you couldn’t find me!” Little did I know that this incident was just the beginning.
I imagine that you remember the years from then until now so I’ll skip ahead to your kids. All that I’ll say is that they are all beautiful. They are intelligent beyond words. And they are ALL as stubborn as you ever were! You left your imprint on them all.
Then I want to thank you. You literally gave me four children. Children that enriched my life. I might have spent the years after my ‘kids’ were grown visiting family or playing bingo. But that would have been boring. Let me tell you that my life has been anything but boring. Well, this year of 2020 does leave a lot to be desired! Jaison, Michael, M’Kinzi, and Koda have been the loves of my life. I didn’t get to be ‘gramma’ but I got to be so much more. Thank you.
You made a lot of changes in your life while I was doing that. Lots of changes. Now you’ve found your true religion. You help others in understanding it. You’re even learning Arabic. You’ve taken a course to be a paralegal, gotten married, you help others to find solutions to their problems, and I don’t know what else.
Now we’re in touch again after so many years with no contact. It was necessary for healing for us all. I think that we’re all better because of it. It’s been good to talk to you again and to work together for some good causes. I look forward to a time when we can all get together in person again and I can come visit.
I’m very proud of the woman that you’ve become. Yes, you took the long road, but you made it.
Love, Mama
All the sonograms showed you were a girl. Sure. Little did they know. Michelle became Michael when you surprised us all. And you refused to be born until Manda could get there, 6 hours from another state… after she got off work.
You walked at 9 months and refused to talk until after you were 2 (and have made up for it since).
You climbed into the stackable dryer when you were 14 months old… to ‘read’ a book.
You showed up at my house one Feb 1 with the clothes on your back with your little sister. And you stayed forever.
You always tried to protect your little sister, even screaming down the middle of the road when she didn’t answer you and you thought she was missing.
You were always a fantastic athlete. It made no difference if it was your first season of soccer, where you got the best defensive player in the league, when every other child in the league was Latino and played from birth. Or baseball, where you had 10 minutes of instruction from Mark before you first played, but the coach said he was glad he’d had one experienced player on the team that really knew how to play. Or football, where there were 3 plays…they all included you having the football. Basketball was ‘get the ball to Michael’. And when it came to cross country, you usually came in first… even in the ‘big’ race. Well, except the time you stopped to help someone that fell, and you came in second. When you took your first riding lesson, you were told there would be 30 minute lessons for a few weeks, until you learned the basics and then they’d go to an hour. Well, that first lesson was an hour. And in just a few weeks, you were even riding bareback. (I miss taking you to the ranch!) No matter what you do, you can do it first, better, most, or sometimes even loudest!
I enjoyed the time you were homeschooled. Especially enjoyed were the times we worked at restaurants and our talking about history got those around us involved.. and you taught them! Where is the little guy that sat in restaurants, discussing Hitler or math, while homeschooling?
You started looking for a job when you were 14. And looked … and looked… And now you have 3…or is it 4?! Congratulations on being persistent!
You ARE just a bit opinionated. Was that sarcasm there? Ya! Sometimes you’re right. Sometimes you think you are. But at least you have an opinion and you care!
You never admit you were wrong…. EVER! But you don’t admit it with a smile. You can be as aggravating as anyone because you’re on your own time instead of on time and for leaving things laying where you’d left them when you’re going right by where they belong.
You stood over me for a month to see if I was still breathing in the middle of the night. Do you know how scary it is to wake to someone leaning over you in the dark? You put off living in your brand new apartment for a whole month so you could run your little brother to a friend’s near school so he wouldn’t miss any more and then went to work and came home to watch over me. And you bought a truck you probably couldn’t afford so you could do that.
You sat down in my bedroom, beside my hospital bed, with a notebook, and said, “Tell me what I have to know to take care of everything if you die.” And we spent the next few hours talking about housing, and bank accounts, and funerals and things no 19 year old should ever have to worry about. And we had tears running down our faces as we talked…and as I do now, remembering. I still have that notebook, in the same spot where you left it. You still will be taking your little brother to finish raising, if I go before he’s grown. (Just, please, make him eat right!)
You take care of everyone… even those that have used you…multiple times! And you have a heart of gold.
I can always count on you to help.
You’ve been through more already than anyone should have to go through in a lifetime. And you give $ even though you don’t have $$ to give.
That first birthday, at your new home with me, was a year no one will forget. I was baking a birthday cake…. Mama’s Mud Cake and the news came on about planes crashing into buildings. So, now, every year on 9/11 I think… This time xx number of years ago, I was baking Michael’s cake.
Now you’re in the Army, and working multiple side ‘hustles’. Yet you’re still caring for everyone else. And you still call your ‘Ma’ and ask questions. Ma, can you send me your green chili enchilada recipe? Ma, how much for .. In this weird year called 2020, we can’t visit and I can’t get your great hugs. But I still know that you’re there for us.
From a little guy with tiny feet to grown up and size 14s. You’ve come a long way! Twenty-four years ago today, I would never had guessed I would be celebrating your birthday as my son. I’m glad I am!
Thank you for all you’ve done! Happy 24th birthday, Michael!
My son is 12 and going into 7th grade … at home. Here’s why…our true life experience. We had to be at aschool by 12 to do a no contact Chromebook pickup. We had to wait there for 45 minutes. (That’s another story.) We watched ADULTS try to stand in line with masks, six feet apart. Here’s what we discovered.
1)They never stayed 6 feet apart.
2) When they got to the door, several leaned in, face tp face, with the person holding the door ‘to hear better’.
3) Over 1/3 didn’t have masks
4) Of those with asks, some were on their chin or in their hand.
5) Those with masks on correctly were taking them off to get a drink…and left them off to swallow.
6) They picked up Chromebooks that were passed from hand to hand after being breathed on and hugged them to their chests.
7) After using both hands to hug them to their chests, they took off their masks.
And this was adults for only 45 minutes. Now think of kids being asked to behave for hours, day after day.
It won’t work. Dont even try.
What AM I going to do? We did that no contact Chromebook pickup. He’ll attend class via a platform like Skype or Zoom. He’ll interact with his friends. He’ll be able to spend the day without a mask and stay healthy. He can drink without fear and have lunch at the table. He can go out back at ‘recess’ and shoot hoops or talk with his friends on Skype or Xbox. He can stay educated and healthy.
I asked him if he would rather attend with his friends. He said, “NO!”. ‘I don’t want to sit in one chair all day and not touch anything with a mask on when it’s…insert…today it’s 115…degrees. I don’t want to worry about getting sick.’
I asked if he would miss interacting with teachers. Well, he’s done online school for a semester. Not what we had last spring, but actual online school. He said that he got to interact with his teacher. She called upon him when he raised his computer hand. And he liked being in his pj’s most days. (Saved on my laundry!)
I can see no reason not to school remotely. I can see EVERY reason for not going into a classroom this year.
What is white privilege? Or what is it not? Why do black lives matter?
I can go anywhere and get into anywhere. I don’t have to worry about what I say or the way I say it. I don’t have to worry about how I dress. I can do what I want without consequences. I don’t have to worry about being stopped because I’m driving and doing nothing wrong. I don’t have to worry about the police getting called because I look suspicious going for a walk in my neighborhood. I don’t have to prove to strangers that I can be anywhere. Here’s some comparisons.
It’s going in places and blending in with a crowd, where no one will even remember you when you go back, but if you need help, one word and they’ll make trip after trip to the dressing rooms with more clothes. It’s not going out and having everyone stare at you or follow you through the store and then saying I don’t think we have anything that you might want to buy.
It’s taking your white 3-year-old daughter into the store and being escorted back to the employees restroom. It’s not shopping at that store, asking to let your 18-month-old, black son to use the restroom and being told we don’t have one.
It’s taking your family in to buy a home and getting the paperwork taken care of in short order. It’s not taking your 2 black sons in with you to look for a home, being told that the houses are out of our price range and then being helped to buy a more expensive home out in the country.
It’s getting the labor and the zipper done for nothing when it took 90 minutes and labor is $90 an hour, billed at 15 minute intervals. It’s not being billed for an hour when the work took 10 minutes.
It’s going to the movie where it’s really cold and you ask if they will turn the a/c warmer and they change the temp in all of the theater rooms. It’s not taking your adult, black son to a movie in Georgia and have the people behind you keep saying things like races shouldn’t mix. Why are you with that ‘n’?
It’s getting a free dessert or getting your tab picked up without asking because your water wasn’t filled up quickly enough. It’s not going to Denny’s in Georgia after taking your son to that movie and leaving because, though you were there first, and the black family next, and the white family that came in last get waited on before the black family and you aren’t waited on at all. It’s reporting to corporate and a manager being fired because they hear your white voice.
It’s having a beautiful landscaped yard that no one bothers. It’s not waking up to the remains of a burned cross in your yard.
It’s going out to your car after a banquet, getting in, and having a peaceful ride home. It’s not getting in, driving off, having two tires blow and you barely keep the car under control to keep from landing in a dark, deserted river bottom at 2 in the morning.
It’s being able to stand up to a police officer and tell them that they are wrong and not worry about retribution.
Those are my experiences as a white woman. All of them. There is only one difference in the way I was treated. And that was because I had my black family with me. I was the same person. It was nothing that I did. I’m a person of color. It just so happens that my color is a lot paler than others.
Everything that I do is a white privilege. And here is the thing. We’re all the same people. We’re just dressed in different skins.
Why do black lives matter? You shouldn’t even have to ask. I cry because you do. Black lives matter for the same reason that my life matters. It’s the same for anyone. We’re all part of the human race. We just come in different colors.
*for ‘Mack’