Sunday, February 19, 2012
Danny's side of the story
"I was just trying to clean up my home improvement project." Danny explained. "I walked by Hayley's room, just to tell her that I loved her and to offer her some homemade cookies and milk. That's when the yelling began."
Danny had to pause to collect himself. "The horrible names that she called me, I can't even repeat. She screamed that she hated me, wanted me out of her life forever."
"I tried to walk away, but she wouldn't let me go. She was swinging her fists. Then she jumped on my back." Danny cried. I could tell that he was still very terrified by what happened that day. "I finally shook her loose and was just going to leave the situation. It is true that I had the screwdriver, but not as a weapon." Danny explained between sobs.
"Then, I heard this low guttural growl. My body went cold like all that was good and pure was being sucked out of me. Then she screamed. I turned just in time to see her come at me with a crazy look in her eye. I turned my body toward her and just as she brought her arm down on me, I instinctively brought my arm up to block her punch. That's when I stabbed her, or rather, that's when she fell on my screwdriver, once."
"Hayley crumpled to the floor. I heard Jacob running up the stairs. He saw Hayley bleeding, I tried to offer her help but Jacob yelled "NO!!!" He said to let her bleed out."
"Jacob tried to wrestle the screwdriver from my hand. He kept saying it was his chance. I pushed him away and covered Hayley's body with my own until help could arrive." Danny finished his story as he pulled the last tissue from the box. It was heart wrenching to see this family falling apart in the upstairs hall.
Danny had to pause to collect himself. "The horrible names that she called me, I can't even repeat. She screamed that she hated me, wanted me out of her life forever."
"I tried to walk away, but she wouldn't let me go. She was swinging her fists. Then she jumped on my back." Danny cried. I could tell that he was still very terrified by what happened that day. "I finally shook her loose and was just going to leave the situation. It is true that I had the screwdriver, but not as a weapon." Danny explained between sobs.
"Then, I heard this low guttural growl. My body went cold like all that was good and pure was being sucked out of me. Then she screamed. I turned just in time to see her come at me with a crazy look in her eye. I turned my body toward her and just as she brought her arm down on me, I instinctively brought my arm up to block her punch. That's when I stabbed her, or rather, that's when she fell on my screwdriver, once."
"Hayley crumpled to the floor. I heard Jacob running up the stairs. He saw Hayley bleeding, I tried to offer her help but Jacob yelled "NO!!!" He said to let her bleed out."
"Jacob tried to wrestle the screwdriver from my hand. He kept saying it was his chance. I pushed him away and covered Hayley's body with my own until help could arrive." Danny finished his story as he pulled the last tissue from the box. It was heart wrenching to see this family falling apart in the upstairs hall.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
A Bloodied Tale
"I wasn't here for the start of it." Said Jacob "when I came up she was holding her bloodied arm and whincing in pain."
"I was in my room, minding my own business." Hayley said. "He did his usual naughty stuff, you know how he knocks, says things like 'poop' and pulls his sweatshirt up over his head and tucks his ears out."
"SO I opened the door to find him standing there with a screwdriver. He had the screwdriver in his palm with only the blade of the driver visable. It was a flathead screwdriver but I thought it was a knife. He wasn't doing a home improvement project, he was threatening me with a deadly weapon." She cried.
"What have you done to her?" He yelled. Hayley had worked herself into the far corner. Afraid to watch what might happen next.
"She ran into my screwdriver." Danny said as he took another long drag from his Swisher black and mild. "She ran into my screwdriver nine times." He flicked the remainder of his cigarello at Jacob. Then Danny took a swig from his airplane sized bottle of Jack. "She deserved what she got."
Jacob knew that he was no match for his father, noone was. Danny had become a man filled with hate and rage and Jack. These siblings knew that they must unite if they were ever to leave this hallway alive. Danny lunged toward Jacob just as Hayley, using all the courage she could muster, rose to her feet and cried "You have no power over me!"
With that, Danny slumped to the floor, defeated. The bloodied screwdriver fell from his hands.
"I was in my room, minding my own business." Hayley said. "He did his usual naughty stuff, you know how he knocks, says things like 'poop' and pulls his sweatshirt up over his head and tucks his ears out."
"SO I opened the door to find him standing there with a screwdriver. He had the screwdriver in his palm with only the blade of the driver visable. It was a flathead screwdriver but I thought it was a knife. He wasn't doing a home improvement project, he was threatening me with a deadly weapon." She cried.
I tried to comfort Hayley, but it was no use. She had to tell her story, it was the only therapy she knew. With a deep breath and a wiping of the tears, she continued.
"I tried my best to defend myself. I used the skills that he taught me, but oddly enough he only taught me things that he knew how to counter. It was like he had prepared me to fail. I was so frightened and so alone. Was this going to be my last night, I wondered. Would I ever have the chance to live and to love in a life without fear of my own father."
Jacob heard the piercing screams. Hayley screamed so loud that from two stories down Jacob came running. He bounded up the stairs two at a time. When he reached the top floor he found her, his sister in a pool of elbow blood. She shook with fear. All the while, her father sneered in the corner. His screwdriver shown red with blood. Jacob prepared to fight for his sister's life."What have you done to her?" He yelled. Hayley had worked herself into the far corner. Afraid to watch what might happen next.
"She ran into my screwdriver." Danny said as he took another long drag from his Swisher black and mild. "She ran into my screwdriver nine times." He flicked the remainder of his cigarello at Jacob. Then Danny took a swig from his airplane sized bottle of Jack. "She deserved what she got."
Jacob knew that he was no match for his father, noone was. Danny had become a man filled with hate and rage and Jack. These siblings knew that they must unite if they were ever to leave this hallway alive. Danny lunged toward Jacob just as Hayley, using all the courage she could muster, rose to her feet and cried "You have no power over me!"
With that, Danny slumped to the floor, defeated. The bloodied screwdriver fell from his hands.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
I am Tired
I am tired. I have not one single creative idea floating about in my head. I am envious of Harlow and her benadryl induced sleep. She lays by my feet with her heavy sighs and snores. I am envious of Danny and his exhausted sleep. He was up for over twenty four hours and will be able to sleep until he wakes up. I am envious of Jacob and Hayley who do not have class tomorrow and can stay up late tonight and sleep in tomorrow.
I am tired and so ready to sleep. But I have restless legs right now and itchy premaveras. If I go to bed now, I run the risk of waking Danny up. I have to wait for the legs to stop their restlessness, well, not actually restlessness but pricklyness (I am making up words here!). My legs feel like all the unshaved hair on them (as if) is standing on end and the hair is being pulled back into my legs. Freaky, right. And itchy premaveras are really bad itchy spots. The phrase was coined by Ashlyn when she was little. She had hurt herself. Her description was an ouchie premavera. I don't know how she came up with premavera because we were not eating that, ever. But the phrase stuck and now we are frequently strickened with ouchie and itchy premaveras.
I should have taken a cue from Harlow and downed a benadryl an hour ago. One little pink pill is all I need to slip into a crazy dream filled night. Harlow had four and that only took the edge off. We had a crew of home insulators her today and she was not happy. Now it might be too late to get enough sleep and not wake up groggy. At the same time, if I do not stop being itchy, I will never get to sleep.
More than anything, I just long for sleep. That cool, dark room sleep. You know the kind. The kind that pulls everything out of you, refreshes it up a bit, like a toss in the dryer, and then fills you back up with peace and energy. I long for that sunspot sleep. The kind that is warm and a little sweaty. Where the covers never even move because the sleep is so still and deep.
So here goes nothing. Well, here goes half a shot of Nyquil. Hopefully I will get that drug induced sleep that isn't as peaceful or restful but is sleep none the less.
I am tired and so ready to sleep. But I have restless legs right now and itchy premaveras. If I go to bed now, I run the risk of waking Danny up. I have to wait for the legs to stop their restlessness, well, not actually restlessness but pricklyness (I am making up words here!). My legs feel like all the unshaved hair on them (as if) is standing on end and the hair is being pulled back into my legs. Freaky, right. And itchy premaveras are really bad itchy spots. The phrase was coined by Ashlyn when she was little. She had hurt herself. Her description was an ouchie premavera. I don't know how she came up with premavera because we were not eating that, ever. But the phrase stuck and now we are frequently strickened with ouchie and itchy premaveras.
I should have taken a cue from Harlow and downed a benadryl an hour ago. One little pink pill is all I need to slip into a crazy dream filled night. Harlow had four and that only took the edge off. We had a crew of home insulators her today and she was not happy. Now it might be too late to get enough sleep and not wake up groggy. At the same time, if I do not stop being itchy, I will never get to sleep.
More than anything, I just long for sleep. That cool, dark room sleep. You know the kind. The kind that pulls everything out of you, refreshes it up a bit, like a toss in the dryer, and then fills you back up with peace and energy. I long for that sunspot sleep. The kind that is warm and a little sweaty. Where the covers never even move because the sleep is so still and deep.
So here goes nothing. Well, here goes half a shot of Nyquil. Hopefully I will get that drug induced sleep that isn't as peaceful or restful but is sleep none the less.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
you wanna know what love is?
Love is a flag pole and a trip to a bunch of rocks. Yep, that is the height of my romance this year, 20 feet. Well, that's the height of the flagpole anyway!
Oh, its not that I am not a romantic, I am. I got Danny chocolates and I got him a card. But getting him what he has talked about for years means something more to me, to him than the traditional.
Here is the thing that I know about love, it means doing what you can that reasonably makes the other person happy. And this year, it is finally getting Danny two things that he has wanted for a long time. A pole on which to hang flags and a trip to the inner circle at the heart of Druid, alien nonsense.
Ok, the flag pole is also a gift for me because I imagine the neighbor is going to be pretty pissed when that baby goes up and gets even more pissed when we get some artificial illumination going on, too! And flying Old Glory will be nice. Add to that a Pillage flag or Cowboys flag and our house will be so cool!
But the trip to Stonehenge is not about me at all. This one is all for Danny. He likes the alien stuff. He watches weird tv shows when he can't sleep. He got divining rods for Christmas. He reads books written by people with crazy hair and crazy ideas. And I know that this trip will make him happy. Very happy. I know that I will have fun watching him have fun.
And isn't that what love is all about? Making people happy?! Sharing in their interests even when they are odd and a little freaky. Isn't love a little bit about giving and taking? Really listening to the one you love and then acting on those words.
So that's what our love has come done to, twenty feet of aluminum and a bunch of rocks.
Oh, its not that I am not a romantic, I am. I got Danny chocolates and I got him a card. But getting him what he has talked about for years means something more to me, to him than the traditional.
Here is the thing that I know about love, it means doing what you can that reasonably makes the other person happy. And this year, it is finally getting Danny two things that he has wanted for a long time. A pole on which to hang flags and a trip to the inner circle at the heart of Druid, alien nonsense.
Ok, the flag pole is also a gift for me because I imagine the neighbor is going to be pretty pissed when that baby goes up and gets even more pissed when we get some artificial illumination going on, too! And flying Old Glory will be nice. Add to that a Pillage flag or Cowboys flag and our house will be so cool!
But the trip to Stonehenge is not about me at all. This one is all for Danny. He likes the alien stuff. He watches weird tv shows when he can't sleep. He got divining rods for Christmas. He reads books written by people with crazy hair and crazy ideas. And I know that this trip will make him happy. Very happy. I know that I will have fun watching him have fun.
And isn't that what love is all about? Making people happy?! Sharing in their interests even when they are odd and a little freaky. Isn't love a little bit about giving and taking? Really listening to the one you love and then acting on those words.
So that's what our love has come done to, twenty feet of aluminum and a bunch of rocks.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
The Theater, The Theater
Ashlyn's London post from this week has prompted this day's blog.
" I sat next to a lady who was in London on business and who had grown up in Manhattan, so she was curious as to how I got my love of theatre (growing up in Iowa). I explained to her how we grew up on Rodgers and Hammerstein and went to all the shows we could. I feel like my age combined with my heritage always makes people who don't know me a little surprised, but I do my best to educate the world one New Yorker at a time!"
When I was a little girl in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, I was treated several times to live theater. Most of the performances were at the Paramount Theatre. The Paramount Theatre, when I was a child, is what I imagined all grand and glorious theaters looked like. The Paramount had an enormous organ that came up out of the orchestra pit. There was all the gilt and velvet and plush. It was just so amazing. And as I recall, our seats were often front row, balcony. Nothing to inhibit our viewing pleasure.
Looking back, I feel very fortunate that my parents saw it as a necessity that we were exposed to live musical theater. Not only were we exposed to theater, but it was on a regular basis that we listened to the music associated with the plays that we saw. My parents had many of the Rodgers and Hammerstein albums. There was also Man of La Mancha amongst others. Most exposure came from my dad singing bits of old musicals from stage and movies. Often, I didn't even know they were real songs until I stumbled on them later. We were so lucky!
Now before any of you begin to think I saw a second class production in the small city of Cedar Rapids, think again! Sound of Music was amazing. I remember thinking how lucky those kids were to get to be a part of the greatest musical family ever (sorry Osmonds, but you are no Von Trapp!). But it was the Theatre of Cedar Rapids production of The Music Man that sold me on the magic of live theater. You know the opening scene that takes place on the train? Well, they did that, they rocked and swayed and clicked and clacked just like they were on a train. And then, you know at the end when Harold Hill has been caught and the jig is up? There he is ready to be tarred and feathered. Marian's heart is broken. The town is demanding a band! So up on stage is a gathered group of a dozen or so poorly trained band members. There is a trombone, a clarinet and maybe a fugle horn or two but nothing much to make a town proud. And then, out of nowhere, the theatre fills with the sounds of Washington High School's marching band. As a kid, I jumped out of my seat.
When Danny and I had kids, exposing them to the classics of twentieth century musical theater seemed very natural. As babies, the girls were listening to my dad sing South Pacific and Man of La Mancha. We had the Rodgers and Hammerstein collection on VHS. Follow that up with a little My Fair Lady and toss in all of the Disney classics and that makes for some pretty musical moments. They also watched The Music Man on a fairly regular basis as well.
In 1999, Danny, Sheila, the girls and I went to see Joseph. I did not know the music except that Sheila sang it for the better part of a school year. The production was local and incredible. Several years later, the kids and I would go to a traveling Broadway show and it paled in comparision.
Living in Des Moines, we are fortunate to have Broadway shows come through all of the time. Our most recent show was Rock of Ages. Ashlyn just saw Singing in the Rain in London and Danny, Ashlyn and I are going to see We Will Rock You, the rockopera based on the music of Queen.
So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for seeing the importance in getting us dressed up for a Sunday matinee of song on stage. Thank you, Dad for telling me to come watch Singing in the Rain. For telling me to just watch Donald O'Connor dance. You were right, there really is nothing like that. Thank you for having an extensive record collection that we were allowed to play. Most of all, thank you for making sure that we knew what the good stuff was when it came to movies and music.
And to the woman in London that had the good fortune to be educated by my daughter, it is all in how you are raised.
" I sat next to a lady who was in London on business and who had grown up in Manhattan, so she was curious as to how I got my love of theatre (growing up in Iowa). I explained to her how we grew up on Rodgers and Hammerstein and went to all the shows we could. I feel like my age combined with my heritage always makes people who don't know me a little surprised, but I do my best to educate the world one New Yorker at a time!"
When I was a little girl in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, I was treated several times to live theater. Most of the performances were at the Paramount Theatre. The Paramount Theatre, when I was a child, is what I imagined all grand and glorious theaters looked like. The Paramount had an enormous organ that came up out of the orchestra pit. There was all the gilt and velvet and plush. It was just so amazing. And as I recall, our seats were often front row, balcony. Nothing to inhibit our viewing pleasure.
Looking back, I feel very fortunate that my parents saw it as a necessity that we were exposed to live musical theater. Not only were we exposed to theater, but it was on a regular basis that we listened to the music associated with the plays that we saw. My parents had many of the Rodgers and Hammerstein albums. There was also Man of La Mancha amongst others. Most exposure came from my dad singing bits of old musicals from stage and movies. Often, I didn't even know they were real songs until I stumbled on them later. We were so lucky!
Now before any of you begin to think I saw a second class production in the small city of Cedar Rapids, think again! Sound of Music was amazing. I remember thinking how lucky those kids were to get to be a part of the greatest musical family ever (sorry Osmonds, but you are no Von Trapp!). But it was the Theatre of Cedar Rapids production of The Music Man that sold me on the magic of live theater. You know the opening scene that takes place on the train? Well, they did that, they rocked and swayed and clicked and clacked just like they were on a train. And then, you know at the end when Harold Hill has been caught and the jig is up? There he is ready to be tarred and feathered. Marian's heart is broken. The town is demanding a band! So up on stage is a gathered group of a dozen or so poorly trained band members. There is a trombone, a clarinet and maybe a fugle horn or two but nothing much to make a town proud. And then, out of nowhere, the theatre fills with the sounds of Washington High School's marching band. As a kid, I jumped out of my seat.
When Danny and I had kids, exposing them to the classics of twentieth century musical theater seemed very natural. As babies, the girls were listening to my dad sing South Pacific and Man of La Mancha. We had the Rodgers and Hammerstein collection on VHS. Follow that up with a little My Fair Lady and toss in all of the Disney classics and that makes for some pretty musical moments. They also watched The Music Man on a fairly regular basis as well.
In 1999, Danny, Sheila, the girls and I went to see Joseph. I did not know the music except that Sheila sang it for the better part of a school year. The production was local and incredible. Several years later, the kids and I would go to a traveling Broadway show and it paled in comparision.
Living in Des Moines, we are fortunate to have Broadway shows come through all of the time. Our most recent show was Rock of Ages. Ashlyn just saw Singing in the Rain in London and Danny, Ashlyn and I are going to see We Will Rock You, the rockopera based on the music of Queen.
So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for seeing the importance in getting us dressed up for a Sunday matinee of song on stage. Thank you, Dad for telling me to come watch Singing in the Rain. For telling me to just watch Donald O'Connor dance. You were right, there really is nothing like that. Thank you for having an extensive record collection that we were allowed to play. Most of all, thank you for making sure that we knew what the good stuff was when it came to movies and music.
And to the woman in London that had the good fortune to be educated by my daughter, it is all in how you are raised.
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