I'm a trash picker from way back...Memorial Day memories of things that have shaped me.

Yes, I said trash picker and that's exactly what I meant.  I come by my trash-picking ways quite honestly actually.  You see, my granddaddy was a pig farmer.  No, really!  He really was a pig farmer.  He also had cows, chickens and ducks.  Granddaddy had two farms.  One was in Live Oak and the other was in Miami.  He owned the farm in Live Oak for a long time until he finally sold it and moved south to Miami because the cold weather during the winter bothered his arthritis.  I have some really cool memories of going to stay on the Live Oak farm when I was really little and some that aren't quite as happy as well.  He leased the land for the farm in Miami (which was located right where the Aventura Mall is today) and it is that farm helped turn me into the trash-pickin' mama I am today.

This is not my Granddaddy's farm, but I remember the pig pens looking just like this one.

What, you ask, does pig farming have to do with trash picking?  Well Granddaddy, you see, had to feed his pigs every day.  To do this, he would wake up at 3 a.m. and go on his "rounds" as he called them.  Granddaddy had cultivated symbiotic relationships with grocery stores, bakeries and Dunkin Donuts in the area of his farm.  He would drive to each of his stops and would pick up donuts, produce or baked goods that would otherwise have been thrown out.

Most of the places he picked up at would put the goods out near the dumpster at the back of the store, but others didn't do this.  They would load up the dumpster and my granddaddy would, well, dive in and get the good stuff out.  After making the rounds, he would go to his farm and "slop the pigs."

One time, my sister and I got to wake up early and go out with Granddaddy.  We may have been 7 or 8 years old at the time, but I am not sure.  What I remember is this, my grandfather was a happy, hard-working man. He always looked old to me...he had white hair and was slightly bent over.  His was a little bow-legged and sort of waddled when he walked.  I know he had trouble with his back and he took "kidney pills" (Doan's backache pills.)  He smelled a little odd (due to the dumpster diving?) but not offensive, like a combination of farm smells, sweat, Avon "Old Country" aftershave, and Absorbine Junior liniment.  His fingers (every single one of them!) was wrapped with white medical tape because he was constantly cutting them on things in the dumpsters or on the crates the produce came in.  He did not complain about getting up that early because it was what he did.  In the cab of his truck, there were papers piled high on the dash board.  I don't know what all those papers were, but to him, they were important and he knew where everything was even though it just looked like a big mess to me.  The seat in his truck was a bench seat and my sister and I would fight over who got to sit next to Granddaddy because he was such a love. 

On the day we went with him, Granddaddy went to the Dunkin Donuts first.  As he loaded the boxes stacked at the back of the store into the truck, he grabbed one of the donut boxes and gave it to us to eat.  Wow!  What a treat that was!  Our mom never let us eat donuts!!  We scarfed those down and then were on to the Publix.  There, he loaded up the produce and introduced us to some of the people from the store...he was very proud of us because we were so well behaved (thanks to mom's iron fist) and everyone complimented us on how helpful we were for coming out early and keeping Granddaddy company.  After he was finished loading the produce, I saw Granddaddy hop into the dumpster to see if there was anything "good."  He came out a short time later with a box full of dented cans missing their labels and a few "perfectly good" loaves of bread which he put into the cab with us.

More stores, more dumpsters.  Each time, Granddaddy would put a little something extra from the dumpsters into the cab of the truck.  We didn't know what was in the dented, label-less cans, but Granddaddy said it was wasteful to let them go "to the dump."  Later, after we got home, we added the boxes and cans to the other stacks of boxes and cans in our "dining room" at the house.  Later, when it was time to cook supper, we would open a can...would it be cat food?  Dog food?  Tuna fish?  We never knew till we opened the can.  Conveniently, if it were food for dogs or cats, we had plenty of those around to feed as well.  Those kinds of early teachings kind of stuck with me.  My mom must have had her share of life lessons in this regard as well, because she was a garbage picker too.

At that particular time, my mom was married to Bill.  He was her 7th husband and the one I remember best.  Bill was a nice, quiet man and I can't for the life of me figure out why he married my mom.  He seemed to be pretty smart, but then again, how smart could he have been to marry my mom??  Well anyway, he was a golf-cart repair man as well as a "junker."  Isn't it funny how people come together?  So Bill the junker and my mom would take Anna and me out "junking." on Friday nights.  In the late afternoon, we would hit the hot spots where people used to just go and dump stuff in Miami.  Now I remember we had quite a few places we would go to do this.  It was the 70's and people were just starting to see public service messages on TV regarding littering (remember the Native American on his horse looking over the side of the interstate with a tear running down his cheek?) however, I remember that even we were guilty of throwing our empty McDonald's wrappers out of the windows of the car on the highway...everybody did it (can you even believe that???)  There were also plenty of areas where people would dump their stuff they didn't want anymore...stuff like furniture, old dishes, clothes, mattresses.  You name it, we found it.  We had a pickup truck and Anna and I would ride in the back on a sofa (conveniently taken from a dump) that was in the bed so we could be comfortable.

Upon arriving at a "good spot" we would all hop out of the truck and start sifting through the piles.  Sometimes, it was gross, but as a kid, I don't remember minding it too much.  My mom and Bill were looking for recyclable metals like copper and aluminum to take to the recycling place for cash, but Anna and I were looking for "goodies."  It was like a non-stop treasure hunt.  We would find boxes of stainless steel creamers from a restaurant, plates, and glasses from who-knows-where, metal cabinets that were great for storing things in a garage, old chairs, dressers and lamps and gosh, I don't know what else.  We would pile it into the back of the truck and then sort it out later that night at home.  The next morning, we would get up at 4 a.m. and go to the "swap meet" at the Tropical Drive-In off of Bird Road.  We would get there by 5 a.m. to set up and people would start walking around looking for a bargain.  I remember that we couldn't even see because the sun wasn't up and we were already selling things.  Anna and I always got to keep the money for the stuff we found and sold.  It was the coolest and funnest thing ever and I was hooked!

Since then, there have always been opportunities to loot a neighbor's trash pile and I never had a problem doing it.  I loved finding good things and taking them home...for FREE!!  I collected some really great things that I never would have been able to afford because, as you might have guessed, we didn't have a lot of money to spend on things that weren't necessary.  All of the decorations and furniture I ever had in my room as a child came from the dump, a neighbor's trash pile, Salvation Army or a thrift store.  I still love to search in Goodwill and Salvation Army (even to find cool furniture for my decorating clients) for a bargain.

Since I married Kurt, I have tempered my trash-picking ways, but haven't completely given them up.  Kurt did not come from a background like mine and is a little alarmed that someone might see me picking through a neighbor's trash pile.  He's also not a big fan of old and beaten-up (which I happen to love, it's called Shabby Chic!) so we really don't have much of anything left of my old pre-marriage treasures.  However, occasionally, I come home with something good from the trash.  In fact, the canopy we so happily cart to our sons' sporting events came right out of our neighbors garbage pile one Saturday morning. A small patched hole in the top later, we have a perfectly working $200 canopy for FREE!!  How sweet is that?  Oh, and by the way, trash-picking is eco-friendly, so I am very trendy in addition to being thrifty...love that!!

Squints...

My son Jack is currently obsessed with two things...baseball and the movie "The Sandlot" (which is about baseball.)  He watches The Sandlot every day....EVERY day.  One of his favorite things about the movie is the character "Spuints" who wears thick black-rimmed glasses and ends up kissing Wendy Peffercorn. Cute, right??  Personally, I love the movie too and have spent many evenings curled up with him on the comfy little sofa in his bedroom watching segments of it before bedtime...sigh...Jack admires Squints because he is a good baseball player and he had the courage to go after the girl he wanted even though she was clearly WAY out of his league.  Jack has channeled Squint's personality and look...

And, I'm afraid, as puberty quickly approaches my baby boy, he will channel Squint's bravado and will find his Wendy Peffercorn and he will "kiss her long and kiss her good"...and there will be no more cuddle sessions on his comfy little sofa with his Momma.

Sometimes he surprises me...

My son Lee is twelve years old.  He has been independent, difficult and a questioner of authority since he was little more than a year old and started saying his first words.  Way back then, I knew I had my hands full when I read my baby books and realized that not only did he have the required 10 or so words in his vocabulary to prove that he was developing normally, he had nearly 200.

Having read said baby book and realized Lee was a little ahead of the game, I started to keep track of (and write down) the words he said everyday.  By the time I took him in to his eighteen month appointment with the pediatrician, I had compiled a list of more than 180 words.  Mind you, "thank you" actually came out as "day doo" and "flower" was "fow" but there was no doubt my son was talking in sentences and getting his point across to me long before I was prepared to deal with what he had to say or answer his (many) questions.

As a toddler, Lee began having 2 hour temper tantrums (I am NOT kidding or exaggerating on this point!) and continued having them until he was 6.  The tantrums were a thing of wonder.  He would kick and scream of course, but his dramatics were on a whole other level than anything I had ever witnessed prior.  He would writhe and flail, he would not only fling himself to the floor, he would roll around as if possessed.  He would drool and twist his mouth up...he looked like a demon child in the flesh.

His tantrums would flare up at inconvenient times of course, like the grocery store for example, and at times I had to leave full carts of groceries abandoned in the front of the store as I made a hasty exit with him tucked under my arm kicking and screaming.  Having never given in to his demands during or after said tantrums, I am not certain why he continued having them, but he did continue...relentlessly.  At some point along the way, my mother in law (and me too if I am honest) started thinking something was wrong with him.  A psychologist appointment later, I realized he never had the tantrums in school and was therefore fully able to control them and was choosing to have them!

Shortly after this realization, I found myself standing in front of my (then 6 year-old-kindergartener) son when yet another tantrum began.  As I watched him, I found myself loathing my child, the little angel who had come from my own body.  I knew that I was not able to deal with yet another hours long ordeal.  At that moment, I thought about how I would handle such a child at the schools where I was, at the time, employed as a school police officer.  I considered the fact that, if I were working in a school and a child was behaving in such a way, I would restrain them until they calmed down (so they wouldn't hurt themselves or someone else) and, at that moment, I decided to try it.

Prior to actually putting the idea into motion, I warned Lee what I was about to do and he did not stop his tantrum.  I took him by the arm and walked into my bedroom with him, closed the door and sat down on the floor in front of my door, blocking it with my body.  Still holding Lee by the arm, I sat him down between my legs and proceeded to place my lower legs over his knees in order to hold him down.  I held his torso against mine and then held his arms out to the sides while I held onto his elbows.  Being stronger than he was (and a lot bigger!) I was able to hold him in place.  He continued to struggle and scream and demand that I let him go to no avail.  I repeatedly (and calmly I might add) told him that all he had to do was stop his tantrum and I would let him go.  He didn't stop.  He tried threats and pleas (such as, "I have to go pee!") to get me to let go, but I just told him to pee in his pants, that I wasn't letting him up unless he stopped his tantrum.

It took a full 20 minutes before Lee finally gave up and stopped.  That was the last tantrum he ever had.  Did you hear that?  That was the last tantrum he EVER had!  He was such a stubborn boy that he had been having tantrums that lasted 2 hours FOR YEARS because he WANTED TO!!  Do you start getting a mental picture of the kid I am dealing with here??

Lee has never let his dad or I get away with ANYTHING!  We could never make up cute kid type stories for why things were the way they were...death, taxes, you name it...he wanted and demanded the true story for everything.  Yet, he had a blankie (or "Diggie" as he called it) that he slept with and shoved up his nose or stuffed in his ear until "Diggie" was lost (I still suspect my mother-in-law threw Diggie away, but she has never admitted it.)

Sadly, this is the only digital photo I have of Lee with Diggie.  Here, he had just had his tonsils out and was passed out in front of his bowl of ice cream...poor kid!

He even still has a blanket that he carries around (only this one is not called by a name) and sleeps with.  I have been told by countless friends and neighbors that he is a sweet boy with a good heart, he just saves that stuff for special occasions and the occasional awkward parenting moments (click here) in order to make sure that those moments are special and not to be taken for granted.

Since arriving at puberty at the ripe old age of 10, Lee has kept his dad and I on our toes with his sex-crazed teen-boy behaviors and Johnnie Cochran-like abrasiveness and ability to argue his case in the Burfield court of justice.  So you'll understand why I was pleasantly surprised and delighted to get a text from my next door neighbor recently regarding my son's behavior.  Turns out Lee was, at that moment, sitting on the ground near the pool in her back yard "coloring" with her two children and one other neighbor's little boy.  All of the children I am referring to are under the age of 6.  In fact, the ages of the children in question are 4, 5 and 6.  My son, who drives me to distraction with his smarty-pants mouth and attitude, his lack of desire when it comes to school work, his laziness when it comes to house-hold chores like picking up his OWN socks, was, in fact, sitting with three small children in my neighbor's back yard coloring pictures with them and (get this!) teaching them how to draw faces!  I quickly called my neighbor and asked her if she was sure she was seeing what she was telling me.  She said she happened to glance out the window and catch the scene.  She told me how sweet Lee is and how her kids just adore him and look up to them and how they must be in heaven because he was paying attention to them!  (For real?  I mean...SERIOUSLY?  Do you KNOW my kid???)

Still not quite believing what I was hearing, I snuck over, camera in hand, in order to see for myself.  Look!  See for YOURself!

See?  I'm in stealth mode, taking pictures through the fence so he doesn't see me and stop what he's doing...

Seriously...sometimes, he surprises (and delights) me...

You're an idiot!

So here I am, coming back to talk to you after all this time and I need to make a confession to clear the air.  I am going to take a little break from my life story (hey, I can write what I want, and anyway, who cares about my life story, cause this is my LIFE, damnit!!) and tell you that today was not one of my more stellar parenting moments...

I am sure that when we enter the realm of motherhood, most of us picture ourselves as potentially being the best mom anyone could ever want.  We will never commit the HORRENDOUS  mistakes our own mothers made (well, mine anyway) and we will be patient and understanding and loving at all times...like this...

I pictured myself as potentially a great mom because I knew what NOT to do and also, I was smarter than those short people who would, one day, potentially, inhabit my home.  I pictured my perfect house, perfect children, perfectly coordinated, nutritious-meals-on-the-table-with-the-whole-family-sitting-around-every-day life and just KNEW that it would be that way because that's how I was going to MAKE it!

So fast forward to my actual life...Everything (EVERYTHING) is the opposite of how I pictured it!  My pregnancies were rough, births (well, they are a whole other story), colicky babies, breast feeding difficulties, night terrors, precocious toddlers, biters (Lee), bad restaurant manners, messy boys who gave the most delicious, sloppy kisses, said "I wanna HOLD you!" all the time and inherited the truck gene despite my best efforts to properly socialize them.

The boys are going to hate me for posting this, but what good is my life if I don't contribute properly to their future need for therapy.

Motherhood, to say the least, has been a constant reminder of the fact that I am neither perfect, nor patient, but, in daily acts of monumental self-restraint, I have avoided being carted away in handcuffs for the things I imagine doing to them in my mind by taking many deep breaths and counting to 10 or 1500, depending on how annoying whatever they did was.  I have not always avoided speaking my mind to them (unfortunately) which leads me to the need to confess today.

Lee, my oldest son has ADHD.  We just found this out in December.  He is on medication which has tended to help him quite a bit.  When he first went on the meds, it was as if a miracle had happened!  He went from being distant, uninterested and smarmy (I think that is the word for describing a smart-mouthed, know-it-all pre-teen who talks back and has the answer for Every. Single. Thing. You. Say. and if that's not really the word, just pretend it is for the purposes of this blog entry, okay?) to helpful, courteous, involved and kind-hearted...I KNOW!  A miracle, right?  Although this miracle drug came with a price tag of $118 (after insurance!!) it seemed MORE than worth it considering the change in my kid!  I was shaking my head in wonder at all the people I have heard making remarks over the years (myself included!) that we are over-medicating our children and not letting them "just be kids."

So anyway, he's on this medication that, at first, helped him be a thoughtful kid who actually started doing well in school again (he had been failing up to that point after always having made A's and B's in elementary school...did I mention he's 12 and in middle school?)  But along the way, the effects of the miracle drug have dulled and he is somewhere more near to the person he was before, only able to remember and concentrate a little better in school, although not well enough to compensate for anything he is not interested in or finds "boring" like homework.  Now, homework happens to account for half (fifty percent!) of his grade.  The fact that he doesn't tend to do it and turn it in means that he is constantly on the verge (or actually) failing most of his classes at any given moment.  The fact that his teachers only post his grades on the computer every week or two means that, by the time I find out he hasn't been turning in his assignments, he is already deep in the hole.  

Lee has a science project that is due in a few days.  The project was assigned a couple of weeks ago and had several dates for which students were responsible for turning in things along the way...first the subject matter, then the hypothesis, procedure, etc. all culminating in the final project due at the end of this week.  With each and every step so far, there has been prodding on my part for him to complete the task by the deadline.  Now, mind you, I have usually thought of the project on a sudden impulse and followed the thought with, "Do you have anything due on your project?"  Which he always answers with, "Uh, I don't know...I don't think so.  It's not due yet."  To which I reply, "You had better look at your timeline and make sure."  Which ALWAYS results in, "Oh, my (fill in the blank here) is due tomorrow."  Followed by my rhetorical question, "Well, what have you done on that?"  Which is always then followed by, "Uh, I'll do it now."  You see where this is going?

Last night at about 6:30, I am sitting at Jack's baseball practice and I get a call from Kurt.  He's asking me about what he's supposed to cook for dinner (Jack's practices start at 5:30 and last until 8:30) and during the conversation, I ask him to check with Lee regarding whether or not anything is due on his science project for tomorrow (for some reason, I had the date of May 24th stuck in my head as a due date) and Lee, of course, responds with the usual (see above.)  So I ask Kurt to check the paperwork packet and sure enough, Lee's data collection is due tomorrow (today.)  Knowing that my son has yet to perform the experiments necessary to collect the data that is due, I ask Kurt to put Lee on the phone and proceed to go through the above dialogue again (I know, I'm a glutton for punishment) all of which results in him asking me to stop by the store to pick up the materials he will need to conduct his experiments and do you understand how badly I wanted to beat the living daylights out of my son at that moment people???!!???

(I know it's another picture of a woman pulling her hair out, but, as you can see, this one is not only frazzled, she's ANGRY as well!)

So, after informing him that he better get that project done or else (I didn't know what the "or else" was at that moment, but I was working on it) he put his father back on the phone and Kurt (sweetly and much to his credit and future spousal points) said that he would take Lee to the grocery store after they ate dinner.  So I sat (and fetched stray foul balls) at the practice and complained to the other moms there about my lazy son while getting the (much needed) nods of sympathy and the occasional, "Girl, I don't know how you do it..." (a soothing balm to my weary, nagging soul) only to arrive home at 9 pm to find my son sitting on the sofa watching a rerun of Two and a Half Men (which my son finds hilarious and informative and I find hilarious and annoying).

Glancing from the sofa to the kitchen, I saw an array of boxes, cookies, papers and what have you on the counter tops.  I calmly asked Lee if he was finished with his homework and he replied, "I couldn't do it because I needed more people to taste the cookies and cereal" and that is when I started losing my ability to be calm and rational.  Still trying though, I asked him what EXACTLY he needed to do to finish the assignment for tomorrow, he told me that he needed Jack and I to eat two different cookies and see if we could pick which one was the brand name and then sample two different cereals for the same reason.    OK, fine!  So we both did as he asked (incidentally, I was able to pick out the Oreo, but not the Cheerios) and he (supposedly) documented the data.  Shortly thereafter, he asked me if I would type up a 5 paragraph essay he had written for Language Arts that was also due tomorrow because I was a faster typist than he...at which point, I lost my mind.  Since it was now 10 pm and I was tired and frustrated, I told him that not only was he going to type up his own paper, but I was going to go through his classes on the computer and look for other missing assignments which he would then be required to complete tonight as well.  He looked at me as if I had just lost my mind (which, as I said, I HAD!) and sat down at the computer to start typing.  

1 hour, three assignments and several bouts of yelling and screaming later, he stated that he was done with his homework (which I should say, he told me he had none when he walked in after school was out and I asked him if he had any homework.)  I told him that his reward for his behavior was that he was losing ALL electronic device privileges (TV, Ipod, computer, WII, friends' X-Boxes, etc.) until further notice and that if he came home with anything less than a C on his report card, the ban would last the entire summer and into next school year until such time as I saw fit to change things.  To which, of course, he responded that it wasn't fair, blah, blah, blah.

I know this is an old photo, but you get the point, it's his expression that was similar to the one I saw last night.

So this morning, I take Jack to school and arrive home to find Lee working on his science project.  "Wow!" I think, "This is progress!"  So I ask him how it's going and he replies that he only needs to add a picture and he will be done.  I look at what he has done and (having read the rubric the teacher sent home) gently suggest that I could help him make it a little neater and more presentable.  To which he replies, "It's fine Mom!"  To which I reply, "Honey, have you read the packet your teacher sent home?  This is worth 20% of your grade and I can see that you are missing some things and it could be neater."  To which he replies, "Why do you have to always argue about everything?" which makes me mad but I try to save it.  "Listen, this is good, but you are missing a couple of things the teacher wants on there, like a graph with your data.  Also, this just looks sloppy the way your cut outs have jagged lines and there is tape all over the place.  You just need to put a little more effort into this and make it look good so you get a good grade because you can't afford to mess this up!"  To which he replies, "Fine!  Then you do it!"  To which I reply, "Listen, I am offering to help, that's all, just leave it till after school and we'll work on it together."  To which he replies, "I just want to get this in today so I can watch TV!"  To which I so eloquently replied, "You're an idiot!  All you care about it TV!  You don't care about your school work or what your project looks like, just the stupid TV!  And I am offering to help you make your project better!  IDIOT!!"  And I then promptly leashed the dog and walked out the front door, slamming it for emphasis...

Like I said, not one of my better moments...

And then, after my walk and after he got dressed and ready for school, just to make me feel even smaller, my son...my thoughtless, 12-year-old-middle-school-pubescent-pain-in-the-butt-son, walked over to me and put his arms around me and gave me a hug while saying, "I'm sorry Mom, I'll try to do better...I love you."  And just that moment, I realized that, as stupid as I can be sometimes, I have managed to raise a pretty decent boy who, although he doesn't seem to care too much about his school work, loves me...in spite of the fact that I am an idiot.

On the road again...part 4...panning for gold at the end of the rainbow

So there we were, literally, driving off into the sunset...a ragtag team of three chickens, two turtles (I had forgotten about the tiny turtles in their plastic aquarium with genuine fake palm tree until yesterday) one German shepherd, one cat, two kids and one adult of questionable parental abilities all in a red 1967 Pontiac Ventura 2 door coupe.  So you can get the full mental picture...

Here is a simulation of Bunny waving goodbye to Ruth

All of this in a....

Red 1967 Pontiac Ventura

I think you get the picture.

It got dark not long after we left and, since we were traveling through many-a rural area on our way to the thriving metropolis of Turtletown, Tennessee, Anna and I quickly noticed that there really ARE billions and billions of stars...as upset as we were, we realized that we needed to get over it and move on.  Bunnie did not tolerate a bad attitude and she was one to say "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about!"  So we stopped crying and started stargazing.

A little about the Pontiac...that was a cool car!  The interior seats were genuine white vinyl that allowed your thighs to form a deliciously wet and sucky connection when the outside temps were just right to cause the optimum amount of sweat to form between said thighs and vinyl.  Of course, since air conditioning was for sissies, we didn't have it even though we had purchased our car in Florida...you know, where the weather sometimes gets a little warm?  So we drove with our windows open when the weather allowed (meaning it wasn't pouring down rain) and that was good because I think I might have mentioned Bunnie's affinity to smoke...alot...even if it WAS raining and the windows were up...secondhand smoke?  never heard of it...

Ok, so white vinyl interior, no A/C, a single back seat across the WHOLE back of the car and a HUGE back window complete with a child-sized window sill perfect for stargazing!!  Anna and I had many battles about whose turn it was to "sleep" in the back window (you are aware, of course, that back then, only LOSERS wore seat belts...shoot, our car may not have even HAD seat belts...I can't remember ever seeing them.) 

I guess a few hours after we started our trip, Bunnie pulled into a rest stop for a nap.  Anna's favorite place to sleep in the car was the front passenger wheel-well.  I slept in the back window because remember, the back seat was chalk full of animals (oh, and did I mention the litter box?  Uh, yeah, we had one for Snoopy.)  Now, Shadow was pretty easy to take care of on the road because we could easily walk her, but Snoopy was not at all fond of this whole car trip thing.  When we were stopped, we had to keep the windows most of the way up so he wouldn't jump out.  The chickens were a little noisy, but didn't really bother me that much.  The turtles weren't bad on a trip, but we had to be careful not to spill the water...they just hung out on the back floor board with a towel covering them so Snoopy wouldn't eat them.

So we slept there at the rest stop for a few hours.  Once we were up, we made a quick stop for coffee and sweet sixteen powdered donuts (remember those???  Delicious AND nutritious!!) at the gas station. 

A little while later, we were back on the highway, speeding towards a better life in Tennessee.  Bunnie always said that it was good to get a fresh start somewhere new and Anna and I were starting to get used to moving around...it was kind of normal for us.  (One of the positive things about our experiences was that we always made friends quickly...we didn't have time to waste!!)

Bunnie liked to sing songs and play games while she was driving.  She was trying to get us to sing a song that day...I don't remember which song, but Anna didn't want to sing.  I tried to coax her into singing because I could see that Bunnie was getting aggravated with her for not going along, but she refused and said she didn't have to sing if she didn't want to.  (Alas, those were to be our lifelong roles...me trying to smooth things over and Anna rocking the boat as hard as she could because she always knew things weren't right.)  I knew that she had gone too far saying that!  Bunnie was trying to reach over the back seat to hit Anna, but Anna was too quick and kept ducking out of the way, really pissing mom off!  Bunnie was now determined to knock Anna's block off for being disrespectful and started turning towards the backseat and swinging her right arm.  This kept causing her to swerve the car to the shoulder and then she would catch herself and straighten the car back up only to repeat the whole process immediately.  After about a minute of this nonsense, I heard a siren and peeked up over the backseat to see a Georgia Highway Patrol car pulling us over.

Please remember, dear reader, that Bunnie and "Johnnie Law" as she was prone to call them were not known to be old friends.  She had previous experience with law enforcement and it wasn't all that positive.  Her first response when she saw that she was being pulled over was to tell both of us to shut up (for we had proceeded to cry and wail just KNOWING she was going-to-jail-for-whatever-she-just-did-which-was-all-Anna's-fault!) and then shove something under her front seat before getting out of the car and walking back to the officer.  I, of course, knew that what she was shoving under the front seat was her gun.  Bunnie was always packing "for protection" although I was sure that if anyone ever messed with her, she could kill them with the look in her eyes...it was deadly.

While Anna and I cried and imagined the worst, Bunnie sat in the front seat of the patrol car for what seemed like forever.  After a while, she and the officer walked back smiling and chatting like best friends.  I don't know what Bunnie said or did to that officer, but he sure did seem like he liked her.  (Don't forget, she was a good looking woman in her early 30's back then.)  The officer leaned into the open driver's window and said, "Now you girls behave and stop giving your mama a hard time or I'll come and arrest you!"  After that close call, everyone was quiet until we reached the Tennessee border.  Once we were in Tennessee, there were steep cliffs at the sides of the road and there were trickles of water coming right out of the huge slabs of rocks.  Bunnie said that it was spring water and was the best tasting water in the world.  She stopped the car on the side of the road and we got out and went over to one of the trickles.  She told us to cup our hands under the water flow and drink some.  I remember that water being freezing cold and a little sweet...it had a taste unlike anything I had ever had...

I don't know how she did it, but Bunnie could always find anything when she was driving.  It never failed that she got us right to where we were going every single time.  We had never been to Turtletown before, much less to the shack we were about to call home for the next year, yet she drove us right to it (after passing through Ducktown, which had a Piggly Wiggly grocery store!)

When we arrived at "the shack" as we came to call it, Anna and I were excited!  We could see that the "house" was small and was surrounded by woods.  At the rear of the house, the treeline rose up...it looked like a mountain to us!  We could see a little tiny building up on a hill about a hundred yards from the house.  We started running around the yard as Bunnie let the animals out of the car (except for the turtles...they were stuck in their little plastic house.)  Snoopy promptly disappeared into the woods with Shadow chasing him.  The chickens started pecking the ground as soon as they were out of their cage.  After checking all around, we saw that no one was home.  The door to the house was unlocked and Bunnie made us help her get the clothes and her trunk (where she kept all her super-top-secret papers and stuff we were never allowed to see) out of the car and into the house.  Once we were inside, I saw that there was one bedroom and a main room.  There was also a kitchen with a pump...a PUMP! at the sink.  There was no bathroom.  I couldn't find a bathroom and I needed to go...badly!  "Where's the bathroom Mommy?"  Bunnie didn't know, but she told me she suspected it might be outside somewhere...huh?

Okay, now remember the little building I saw up on the hill??

So this was our "bathroom" although, of course, we never took a bath in there.  The inside looked very much like this...

And you had to take a stick in with you to "swish" inside the opening so that any spiders that were up under the rim would go away and not bite you in the butt when you sat down...It was the coolest thing ever and Anna and I were thrilled!  It did have a weird smell, but it wasn't bad once you got used to it...really!

Mama Hickey and Susie (her daughter) weren't at the house, so we got back into the car and started driving down the road to where Bunnie said they would be.  Mama Hickey's family had owned a mountain for generations.  It was called Blalock Mountain and was not far from the shack.  Mom said that Mama Hickey would be building her house on Blalock Mountain and she was likely there working on the place it would go.  We drove down a long, winding road and could see a large (to me) mountain getting nearer as we drove.  Bunnie stopped the car beside the dirt and rock road.  I looked around and didn't see anyone around but she told us to get out of the car.

Once we were out, she walked over to a little stream that was running right across the road.  It was a real creek!  A little one, but real nonetheless!  At the side of the road, it was about a foot deep and only about 6 or 8 inches at the center of the road.  There were little rocks and tiny fish and spiders in the water.  Shadow immediately started trying to bite the water spiders and mom suggested that we sit in that stream and cool off...what a fabulous idea!  So we sat right down in the water and started to pick up handfuls of little stones and pebbles...Bunnie said we were panning for gold because this was the end of the rainbow...and that's where Mama Hickey found us an hour later when she was coming down the road heading back to the shack for the day...

On the road again...part 3...the chicken or the egg...

Not long after the incident at Mama Hickey's house with the broken picture window in the middle of the night, Mama Hickey decided it was time to get out of Dodge.  Her family owned a small mountain up in Turtletown, Tn. and she decided that she wanted to retire up there and build a house on the mountain.

After Mama Hickey left, Anna and I lived full-time with Bunnie.  We lived at a duplex in Miami.  I remember this little place because there was a small wall surrounding the parking area.  The wall was under a Banyan tree and there would always be lots of little bird poop nuggets on the wall.  Anna and I would get such a kick out of flicking the little blobs and pellets off the wall with our fingers...I know, but hey, we were just little kids!  One day my mom brought home a German shepherd that she had gotten from the dog pound.  Her name was Shadow and she was awesome!  She was very gentle with us and our cat whose name was Snoopy, but was fiercely protective.  I don't remember where we got Snoopy, but over the years, we had many cats and we always managed to find them when they showed up at our house.  They just showed up as if they knew they could stay.  I guess Bunnie had a soft spot for cats...go figure...she didn't have a soft spot for kids, that's for sure.

Bunnie found a little old Spanish lady to take care of us during the day.  The only thing I really remember about the Spanish lady is that when she gave me a bath, she would tell me to be sure to clean my "bubalina" (that was her Spanish name for my lady-parts :)

I don't remember why we left the duplex, but the next thing I do recall is living on my grandfather's farm in Live Oak, FL.  I can't recall the drive up there specifically.  I just remember living in my grandfather's trailer with his wife (he was on his second marriage) Ruth.  I believe I was about 6 years old and Anna was 4.  Anna and I had a ball living on the farm.  I have really good memories of searching for eggs in the barn every day (an Easter egg hunt every day!) and picking up walnuts and pecans off the ground and using a vice in the barn to crack them open and eat them.  I remember the barn had a smell like engines and animals...kind of a dark and earthy odor that I can still smell in my memory.  There was a Brahma bull that was old and crotchety.  He would not let anyone come near him (maybe because at some point someone had cut off part of one of his ears?) but he would let Anna and I ride him!  There were baby calfs that would suck our entire forearms into their mouths trying to nurse!  There were ducks and pigs and it was so much fun for us to live there.

The notable person there at my grandfather's farm was Ruth.  She was the one in charge and there was a lot of tension between her and Bunnie.  My mom was not used to living in a house with another woman and didn't like having to try to get along with Ruth.  She made it clear that she didn't like her at all.  Ruth was not a very friendly person either.  She was rather abrasive and had a hard side.  I remember her telling me that we were going to have fried chicken for dinner one night and then she told me to follow her outside.  She asked me to catch one of the hens (my sister and I would often catch the chickens and would hold them by their feet and spin them thus making them tuck their heads under their wings and go to sleep...I don't know why we did this nor why they reacted the way they did but they never seemed any worse for the wear afterwards!) so I caught one.  She took the hen from me and quickly twisted its neck and killed it.  She then made me take a hatchet she had on a tree stump and cut the chicken's head off.  I did not want to do it...I was so upset that she had killed one of our "pets" but she insisted.  She proceeded to pluck out the feathers and made me help and then she cut up the chicken and fried it.  I did not eat that chicken.  I was too upset.

My grandfather had given us some special chickens that laid colored eggs.  They were called Araucanas and they laid "Easter eggs!"  We got them when they were little...not chicks, more like little teenagers...and we spent a lot of time handling them.  They were very tame and we could hold them like pets.  The did indeed lay colored eggs...light green and light blue little eggs.  Here is a picture of one that looks just like the chickens my grandfather gave us...

I know it's kind of ugly, but it is going through puberty!  They are much better looking when they are full grown!

One day, Anna and I found an abandoned nest of eggs in the barn.  The eggs did not look fresh and had clearly been sat upon by a chicken.  I don't remember what happened to the chicken, but the nest was abandoned.  Granddaddy told us we could try hatching the eggs by incubating them in a bucket with a light bulb to provide warmth.  We were so excited at the thought of hatching our very own baby chicks so of course we took on the challenge!  We had to turn the eggs several times a day and we diligently took care of them until it was obvious that at least some of them were beginning to hatch.

Ruth and my mother had been arguing for a couple of days right around the time the little chicks started to hatch.  Ruth had told my sister and I that she was going to take us away from our mom.  She had said she was going to call "the authorities" and have someone adopt us into another family.  Naturally, Anna and I were upset.  Now remember, Bunnie had already had three other children taken from her years before.  In that regard, she was very protective of us.  We told my mom what Ruth had said and the problems escalated to a shouting match and threats back and forth.  Anna and I were trying to stay out of the way because we knew from past experience that Bunnie had a penchant for picking up and launching any item that was within her reach.  My mother told us to go in the trailer and get our things, that we were leaving.

Anna and I ran into the trailer and told Granddaddy what was happening and he went outside.  We got our clothes together and went back outside just in time to see Ruth lining some eggs up along the fence posts.  It didn't register with us at first that the eggs were from the bucket we had been incubating.  Once the eggs were on the post, she picked up a long gun (I don't know what kind it was) and proceeded to shoot the eggs off the posts while my mother screamed at her and my grandfather pleaded with her to stop.  At some point, I realized what she was shooting and ran over to the eggs which were now on the ground.  Some of the eggs were broken apart in pieces, but others had been hit in such a way that the baby chicks were still there.  They had been killed, but were still partially inside their shells and were clearly the little chicks that had been in the process of hatching.  Anna and I were devastated.  How could someone be so mean?

I don't know the mechanics of how it happened from there, but the next thing I remember is driving away from the farm.  I was looking back and saw my grandfather standing in front of his trailer watching us go.  In the car (a red Pontiac two door with a white interior) was a cage that held our chickens (the Araucanas), our dog Shadow, our cat Snoopy, my sister and I and our mother.  Thus starts our first road trip...leaving a place we loved after things got ugly.

On the road again...part 2...Bunnie dumps Clyde and meets Dudley DoRight...

Okay, where did I leave off?  Oh yes, conjugal visit?  Clyde as my father?  Hmmm, what's next?  So that was 1963.  I was conceived in May of that year.  Bunnie was a sporadically employed bartender with questionable abilities when it came to picking the right men.  Did I mention all of this took place in Jacksonville, Florida?  No?  Well, it did.  Did you know that's a military town?  Well it is.  There is a Navy base there.  That becomes important later in the story.

Okay, so blah blah blah...oh yeah.  So, my mom gets preggers while Clyde is in jail waiting for his trial and then divorces Clyde while he is in jail waiting for his trial.  Newly single after divorce number four, Bunnie is out doing her thing...again.  Well, it turns out, she liked to get her drink on and, like I said, she was a looker.  I guess she didn't have a car back then (maybe it was confiscated by the F.B.I.?  Not sure about that, but that's kind of a fun thought, so let's go with that.) so she was taking a taxi to and from work at the bar.   Well, it turns out that ONE of those taxi drivers took a shine to Bunnie and felt bad for her with all of her troubles.  She started to confide in him and at some point, oh, about October, she told him that she was with child (ME!) and didn't know what to do.  Well, wouldn't you know that this young man was so infatuated with Bunnie that he decided he didn't care that she might be carrying the child of a Brinks car robber and he asked her to marry him!!  (Can you even believe that?  I KNOW!  Who does that?  Well, guess what else?  He was a really decent, nice, Christian man who wrote poetry to her and loved his mom, so of course, my mom DETESTED him!  But she married him anyway...no sense letting personal feelings get in the way of a way out of a mess!  Oh, and one more thing, I still have contact with this man, but that is another story I'll tell you later.)

So the taxi driver, let's call him Dudley (you know, DoRight?) marries my mom and hopes to live happily ever after!  Uhmmm, guess he didn't get the memo, but that's not the way Bunnie rolls.  So anyway, they get married, but right before I am ready to make my grand entrance into the world, Clyde escapes from jail...AGAIN!  Now, I have a theory here too (yes, I have a bunch!)  I am thinking that Clyde heard that his ex-old lady was about to have a little baby Bunnie and he suspected that little bundle of joy was his so he escaped to come sweep Bunnie off her feet and ride off into the sunset so they could all be one happy family.  Well, he got caught a couple days later and that's that as far as he was concerned.  He spent another 20 years in prison and then lived with his mom after he got out of jail.  I wish I could tell you whether or not he is actually my father but I really don't know.  I can't seem to track him down, although I came close one time about 10 years ago.  To me, it kind of makes sense, but then again, so does the random guy in the bar theory, so who knows?

But, prior to any knowledge about Clyde (on my part) there was Dudley.  I was born with Dudley's last name because he and my mother were married at the time.  It lasted exactly until I was one year old, but they were separated before that because my mom kicked him out of the house and started her bar hopping, er, tending again.  So, about when I was 9 or 10 months old, she meets a handsome sailor...I'll bet you can imagine what happens next...and my little sister Anna was born when I was a year and a half old.  Bunnie had been divorced from Dudley for about 7 or 8 months prior and then married Popeye (we'll just call him that so we can keep it all straight, okay?)

So what are we up to now?  I think we are at marriage number 6.  You know what they say, 6th time the charm...but not so much here.  I have to say though, this one lasted longer than any of the others.  Not too long after Anna was born, Popeye got shipped out during the Vietnam war so he didn't actually have to live with Bunnie.  Turns out, this was the ideal arrangement and they actually made it for a couple of years before they divorced.

Those years, post Popeye, are when I start to be able to remember events happening.  I remember living in Miami (we left Jacksonville after the divorce from Popeye) in "The Bug House" so named because there was a bug in the closet when we were moving in.  That's one of my early memories of the places we lived.  In that place, I remember seeing the movie "Cinderella" (the one with Leslie Ann Warren) and playing records on my record player.  I remember finding my mother's tampax tampons and taking them apart to use the little white tubes as curlers in my hair.  I remember the dog we had had puppies and I sat in a box with the puppies.

Then I remember living with this really nice old woman who used to take care of my sister and I all week while my mom was working.  Her name was Mama Hickey (her real name to us) and Anna and I adored her.  She lived in Opa Locka (a subdivision in Miami known for racial problems back then) in a big old house with neat things like old refrigerators in her back yard (great for playing hide-and-seek with!) and a million other kids she used to take care of running around.  We used to sleep on the living room floor right under this huge picture window (and one night, someone threw a rock through that window, but that's another story.)  I remember my mom would stop by occasionally during the week to see us and I remember being desperate to go home with her when she would leave.

I remember sleeping one night in one of the bedrooms in Mama Hickey's house in a bed near a wall and a huge palmetto bug managed to crawl into the sleeve of my pajamas (you know, the little flannel nightgowns you used to wear that had the elastic band at the wrist??) and I couldn't get it out (thus, my irrational FEAR of palmetto bugs...I can't even step on one if I see it, I just have to leave the area or shoot it with my gun.)  I was four years old in this big old house and my sister was two.  Mama Hickey was very busy with all those children running around, so I was in charge of taking care of Anna.  I would feed her and change her (CLOTH!) diapers.  I have crystal clear memories of swishing those diapers in the toilet when she pooped in one and (this is gross!) one time, the water got turned off and I had just changed a diaper and was thus unable to wash the smell of poop off my hands...maybe that's why I am compulsive about washing my hands now?

So what was my mother doing to make a living at the time?  I am glad you asked!  At that time, Bunnie was an entertainer.  Being a crack shot with a pistol (oh yes she was!) she got together with some other folks (whom I don't remember) and decided to go to steak houses and bars and put on a show of cowboys and Indians.  My mom had two roles.  She would dress up as Calamity Jane and shoot objects off of her partner's head and sometimes, she was the Indian.  I don't remember what she did as the Indian, but she was probably shooting her gun at one of the cowboys.  She would compete in "quick draw" competitions (meaning she could pull her gun out of the holster really fast) and shoot at targets on a wall.  (And yes, back then she was shooting real bullets at her partners in the parking lot behind the steak houses and bars...how scary is that??) She could compete very well with the men.  She has a penchant to dress like a man, smoke like a man, shoot like a man and curse like the devil.  My mom always had a cigarette hanging out of her mouth (picture it...cowboy boots, dungarees (those are jeans) a snap-button western shirt, a carved leather belt with a giant silver belt buckle, long black wavy hair and a cigarette hanging out the corner of her mouth, her head tilted to one side to let the smoke rise and allow her to see out of the one eye that wasn't squinted closed because of the smoke, and a cowboy hat to top it all off) and she would light her next cigarette from her last.

Bunnie prided herself on being a "bad ass bitch" and would often refer to herself as such.  She had a short temper.  She constantly reminded Anna and I that we were "shit on a rock and hatched by the sun" and she should have had an abortion.  She liked to say that she "hated kids" and didn't want us acting like "wild banshees."  She did not believe in sparing the rod and applied the golden rule to our little asses as often as necessary to make sure we were well-behaved.  Since she frequently got herself mixed up in botched "business deals" (more on that later) and couldn't keep a job for long (no one could put up with her for more than a couple of months) we moved around a lot...mostly in the middle of the night.  Anna and I got very good at throwing all our possessions into a bag and jumping in the car at 3 am to go "on an adventure."

Which leads up to the first road trip I can remember.  One of many we would take over the years and one I will start telling you about...tomorrow.  Remember, don't tell her I told you...it'll be our secret ;)

On the road again...Part 1...Bunnie and Clyde

(A little side note:  you guys are probably going to think I am making this stuff up because it is absolutely crazy and "there is no way you (meaning me) had that life and are who you are now...you're a cop for Christ sake!"  Seriously, I'm serious, I am not making this up.)

By the time I came along into my mother's life, she had been married 4 times (and later another four times making that a grand total of 8 times!) and had given birth to three other children.

I don't really know all of the details about who and where all of those other half-siblings of mine went, but the stories I heard along the way were something about my mom being a "little wild" and getting herself in some legal trouble and losing custody of her kids (two girls and a boy.)  No one could or would ever go into any more of an explanation than that and my mother refused to talk about it.  All three of those kids had different dads too.  Apparently, the kids were taken away from mom and were adopted into other families.  Since that was so long ago (late 50's) there are no records that I know of and I wouldn't know where to start looking.  I've kind of given up on that issue.

So now, mom is single (again) and has no children living with her.  Her profession at the time was bartending.   My mom was a real looker back in the day and had no trouble finding ways to keep herself occupied...only problem is, she was a bit of a rebel and didn't care much for silly rules and laws.  Her boyfriend at the time was a really bad guy.  He had already spent time in jail for various things like stealing cars and robbing stores.  Once, he even escaped from jail (I swear I am not making this stuff up!)  So he (let's call him Clyde) and my mom (we'll just call her Bunnie...get it?) are hanging out one night with some friends and Clyde thinks it will be a great idea to rob a Brinks truck.  Are you listening??  He said he thought it would be a great idea to rob a Brinks truck (yes, those Brinks trucks!)  So they make a plan and Bunnie is elected to be the driver (probably because she was a great driver since her dad taught her how to drive his farm truck when she was three, but I digress...)  So they did it.  They ROBBED A BRINKS TRUCK OF $80,000 DOLLARS!!  WITH GUNS!!  Way back then (1963) that was a really lot of money and (at the time) was the largest armored car heist ever.  (Again, not making this up, I have a copy of the newspaper article!)

Okay, so after that, they split the money 5 ways (there were three other guys involved) and then proceeded to foolishly spend the money thereby making themselves "persons of interest" in the case and eventually getting themselves caught by the F.B.I.  (Still not making this up.)  My mom ended up spending some time in jail and then, in order to avoid testifying against Clyde, she married him...ugh, yeah, I said she married him.  While he was in jail.  Waiting for his trial.  For robbing the Brinks truck.

Now, here's a tricky little side note...some of you know that I don't actually know who my biological father is.  My mom (Bunnie) has told me SEVERAL different stories about who he might be.  Two of my own personal theories are that he is either some random guy from a random bar (it was the sixties, remember?) or he could be Clyde.  I know, I know...he was in jail you say.  Well, I have a theory about that.  Remember how I told you that my mom married him while they were waiting for their trial?  Well, this whole hot mess (robbery, getting caught, spending time in jail) all happened during the time frame leading up to and including when I would have been conceived, sooooo, I'm just sayin' it's a possibility.  What I have never been able to find out is whether they allowed Bunnie and Clyde a conjugal visit to consummate the joyous occasion of their wedding vows.

So I am going to end part 1 here.  Tomorrow, I'll continue with the story and, until then, say a prayer that no one tells my mom that I am "telling" on her.  In our house, we were supposed to be good at keeping secrets.

Middle-Aged Mom's Aspiring Professional Baseball Career Derailed by Pop in the Jaw

FRIENDLY GAME?

Diana Burfield, known to some as BettyShmetty, received a minor injury Saturday morning while playing a friendly game of catch with her son Jack.  "It was awesome!" said Jack, a 10 year old member of the Cardinal's travel baseball team.  "Mom was doing great!  I was throwing them really hard and she was catching them.  I kept telling her she was throwing like a girl, but what the heck, she is a girl!"

WHAT WAS SHE THINKING?

Seems that Jack threw a heater at his mom that took an errant bounce off her glove and hit her square in the left jaw.  "I was feeling really good about myself...wondering why I hadn't maybe pursued a career in professional ball years ago when the ball hit me.  I've been hit in the jaw before when I was a police officer, but that hit came from a woman.  This was definitely harder than that...I think I saw stars right before the lights went out."  Diana's husband Kurt was able to revive her with some ice and a neck rub.

"I THINK I'M DONE"

While Diana was hoping to receive the "Mother of the Year" award for her dedication to her two boys' extracurricular sports and scouting pursuits, she has decided to leave the practice sessions to her husband and sons.  With a stiff neck and a slight bruise, she is content to sit on the sidelines and watch from now on.  "I guess I've learned that not even I can do everything."  Diana says that her next sporting attempt should prove much safer than baseball...amateur pole dancing on the pole on her back patio.