Starting Over- Moving On- Whatever Comes Next
Anybody who was listening to the radio in 1992 knows that I put the right song at the top of the playlist for this entry. Everyone had Achy Breaky Hearts, line-dancing was cool, and all of a sudden the music I sang was a little bit welcome in small doses- until it wasn’t and everyone turned on Billy Ray except for Dolly and Me.
Mom and I got really close. I got pretty close with my favorite aunt and my grandma as well. Babies do that to people. Babies come with their own SCRIPTs. Babies stir up the order a bit.
I also always had a sincere interest in homemaking and handicraft, so I soaked it all up, and I can honestly say that babies are one place where I really shine.
For sixth grade, I was in a 5/6 combination class and it was awesome. My teacher was so cool. She loved oldies, and books, and she read to us all of the time. She encouraged writing for its own sake, and taught us improv games. She had so many cool incentives that were just part of being in the culture of her room.
Unfortunately, the kids remembered that they didn’t like me from before, and now I was the kid with the suicide dad and nobody knew what to say so I was largely avoided. I was teased less that year, but really that was because of the teacher, not because of me or the other kids. She just really had a handle on things.
My mom hated her. She hated that I liked her. She hated parent teacher conferences. She hated hearing that the book I wrote in class was about Dad’s suicide. I think my mom thought my teacher was gay.
Being in her class made me think that maybe I could heal. Maybe there was some other side after this. I learned that we were expected to continue to suffer in our grief. This is conveyed in thousands of disapproving looks and conversations cut short. It’s reinforced in the SCRIPTs that are performed.
It didn’t matter. I was a LONG way from being OK. I really did try to not be messed up on the outside, and to keep the confusion and pain to myself. I tried to perform the chosen SCRIPTs.
The next summer, my brother’s soccer team was going to a big tournament on the other side of the state. He and my cousin were on the same team, and my aunt bought an old motorhome and invited me to go to the tournament with them.
“Under the Bridge,” played on the radio constantly during that trip. The motor on the motorhome was lackluster and it struggled with every single steep grade. The Rocky Mountains have a LOT of steep grades. It was amusing to say the least.
With the exception of actual tournament time, us kids were left largely to our own devices so the adults could drink. My brother showed my cousin what he liked best about me. My cousin took notes, and applied them later.
When the tournament was over we went all the way to Yellowstone, and I got to see all of the amazing geological features, and fell in love with the amazing plants that could withstand such an active earth. I reveled in the connection with the planet, and its inhabitants. I am still in awe of the animals I saw, and how the earth felt so alive there.
Survivor Literacy 
What do you think?