Chapter 3
My fathers older brother was a saint. A patron of children. He was the one to challenge my biological fathers conscience. He was a god fearing man and a farmer . This man was also a rough around the edges man. He didn't sugar coat his words or actions. He las lack of a better word as face value. What you saw was what you got. There was no grey lines in between the black and white of his character.
I remember Easter Sundays hunting eggs with my cousin Jane and my Aunt Vera. Aunt Vera was as country as they came . Once she beheaded a chicken right in front of me as the creature lost his mind and ran after my poor stubbly little four year old legs trying to escape. She yanked up the rabid creature and it busted her lip. It was like night and day with her she was unpredictable as she would be the sweetest woman with the most melodious voice of warmth and care and the next moment the sailors mouth came out of her and she snatch you up in a minutes notice.
Out of reaction she snapped the offending chicken's head off and threw it on the ground out of anger. While still holding the decapitated head of the chicken. The decapitated bird ran around as I screamed at the sight. When it fell dead she picked it up and came inside and turned on the hot water in tossing it in the sink. She shoved the bird under the faucet .
My uncle looked at my aunt Vera's lip and asked." Vera ,what the hell happened?"
" Damn chicken volunteered to be tonight's dinner that's what happened." She replied as he tried to wipe her mouth and she dodged him from touching her lip. She pointed at the sink the water steaming now. My uncle Ray clearly understood what that meant with a gester. Clean the bird. Vera saw this action as a divine right that it was this psychotic birds time to feed the hand that fed it. You know the saying never bite the hand that feeds you. Well it bit her and it was now dinner.
My uncle gave all of me and my sisters a Bible verse to remember us by. Which was strange he was raised baptist but his parents were not strictly religious. My mother was more religious then him with her cradle Catholic roots .
I remember when we were children we often were being banned to the quiet box that sat at the end of the wall in the back of the church. The box was sound proof but it was like a zoo aquarium.
You can see all the bad little children acting up and jumping off pews as the parents in that room lacked control over their offspring. The congregation would judge the parents who were bad at parenting . That was our permanent spot in church. In the display case that read do not leave children unattended. Mia would be walking on the pews and Paula crying because she was bored. Me and my sister Jamie was the only ones who could sit in the congregation but it didn't last for long as my mother would have her wits end and call her in there to help her with mia and Paula and because I couldn't be left unsupervised I would follow Jamie in the bad kids box.
My uncle always thought my mother had more on her plate then she could handle. She had four kids by age twenty-six and all girls . Trying for a son was the goal . She had only just had Jamie at age two when she fell pregnant with Mia . We were all born with in the first six years of their marriage so yeah you could say she was a baby making machine.
The ridiculous notion was when she had me she had a IUD inside of her and she still got pregnant. So when I was born I definitely was an accident baby.When she married my father uncle Ray warned his younger brother not to fall into temptation and be wicked. Ray was a tall man. Well over six foot and as sturdy as a well built farm hand.
He opened his Bible and assigned each of us a verse. Mine was john 3:16 . That verse would be a constant memory or him for meany years down the road. A reflection of the only family that loved me like I should have been loved. With uncle Ray I felt like I had a wall blocking the shit show that was my life even though I didn't know any better at the time.
As I said he lived his life subliminally. He had rhyme and reason for all that he did. One lesson we learned was metaphorically harsh.
A mother rabbit had just had a batch of baby bunnies and she was beautiful white and brown bunny. There was another cage that held the daddy bunny . My sister Mia didn't understand why the daddy bunny couldn't be with his bunny family. She worried herself so much of the logic of this separation .
She decided that daddies and mommies belonged together. Mia opened the daddy cage and my cousin Jane asked" what on earth are you doing? Dad won't like you opening the cages ." She explained.
" Well a daddy belongs with his family." Protested Mia. Mia proceeded to drop the daddy bunny in the mommy bunny cage. It was all sweet and beautiful until the daddy attacked the newborn bunnies and the mommy bunny started to defend them. The scene was so terrifying that Jane ran to get her dad to help. We watched as blood and rapid movements erupted in the confined cage as we were powerless to stop it . It happened so fast.
Uncle Ray just raised the murderous bunny out of the cage and put him in the cage he was originally in.
" Whose bright idea was to do this?" He demanded.
Mia sniffled terrified of his booming voice as she stifle a small guilty sob. He reached in the cage and saw the disaster of the aftermath of the fight. Mommy bunny panted fur stained and not doing so well. My uncle showed mercy . He put her out of her misery .
As he was cleaning out the cage a single bunny was left unharmed. My uncle knew it wouldn't survive without its mother . He sighed not wanted to harmthe small bunny in front of us.
" Jane go give this to your mom . She can use it for dinner. Girls go with her and help your aunt with it." He said more gentler. Knowing what he had to do to the small unprotected bunny.
When we were out of sight he also gave mercy to the last bunny. My uncle didn't like hurting his animals. He was the gentler of the marriage. But when he came in I saw his mourning on his face.
That night we contemplated his actions. That night I took it to heart that some daddies can't be with their families because they may cause harm to the young. That was a tough lesson to chew . Literally as we had rabbit stew that night . We all ate in remorse filling our stomachs.
Halloween on my eighth year of life . We were hosting a charity party . I was dressed at a clown. I loathed clowns. I wasn't scared of them or anything but I loathed them. Here I was in a clown costume . Surrounded by potential adoption parents and charitable organizations celebrating Halloween. Completed with bobbing for apples and popcorn balls . Bowls of candy and lots of people.
And here I was a clown of all things. Why on earth did my house parents dressed me up in this ridiculous red and blue costume with the incredibly stinky red nose. I pulled it off and it was placed back on . My house mom glared at me to behave or she send me to bed. I didn't want to be here anyway.
The party was going late into the night as I felt a painful rush come over me . I cried out in sharp shock . The party halted to a stop. I screamed as I bellowed over in pain and confusion . My house mom sent me to my room as I squirmed and cried like I was getting hit . I passed out from the pain alone that night under the assumption I was being a vile child.
The next two days . My social worker informed me that my dearest uncle Ray had gotten in a car reck coming home from work. He did not make it. When he was found he was holding the Bible open to John 3:16 . My verse. I fell apart . He was my uncle. My protector . My only loved family.
That night my body felt like a bond shattered and fell like a glass wall inside of me. I knew something was going to happen . I didn't feel protected anymore.