9.28.2005

dancing with my father....

For a long time, I didn't know who my father was. In fact, until I was about seven years old, it didn't even occur to me that I might have one.

I was not a child who questioned where I came from. It probably had something to do with the fact that my teenage mother left me in the care of HER mother when I was a year old and left town to go into the army.

I just accepted the fact that I didn't have parents.

So there I was with a grandmother who raised me as if we were still living through the Great Depression, a mother who was just a shadowy figure on a couple of pictures and an occasional voice on the phone and a father - a HIM - who never even crossed my mind.

But, when I was seven, I got very sick and almost died. I was hospitalized and the Red Cross (as is routine in cases where emergencies involve military personnel) summoned my mother to my bedside. And this woman, who I did not know came to be with me. She, in turn, called HIM who came to the hospital to see my mother.
(Please notice that I didn't say to see me.)

Until HIM arrived, it was the first time that I could remember being in my mother's presence alone and the first time in all my seven years that I had even considered that I had a 'Daddy', just like everybody else.

All that I can remember from his time in my hospital room is the sound of the gum he kept popping and the sound of my mother's laughter as she flirted with HIM. I honestly cannot remember a single thing either of them said to me the entire time.

Fortunately, for me, I didn't die and after a considerable hospital stay, my condition improved enough for me to be sent home where I fully recovered.

It would be ten years before I saw HIM again. At his grandmother's funeral at the house for the repast. I'd had virtually no contact with HIM's family during the first 17 years of my life with the exception of my Aunt Margie (although I sometimes wonder if the only reason I saw Miss Margie - as I called her - regularly was that she sold life insurance to my grandmother so she had to come to the house on a monthly basis to 'collect the premium'). As a result, I was in an unfamiliar house surrounded by an entire clan of people who I knew nothing about. I was introduced to aunt after aunt after uncle after cousin after cousin after cousin.

"Yeah, this Junior's daughter."

"No, unt-un, Naw, Sherry ain't her momma. Dianne. You know, Lillie Blue's daughter."

Can you imagine what an experience that was for an ackward, too-tall, gangly and painfully shy teenager that was?


I still shudder.

I can remember HIM trying to keep me away from his wife because when he heard that someone was there looking for HIM, he thought that I was this woman who'd he'd had some dealings with in the past and wanted to avoid a confrontation.

Once HIM finally realized that it was his daughter and not someone trying to get with HIM, we had a very brief conversation. I can remember his vague promise to keep in touch with me and to help me out when I went to college that fall.

The full story of what happened during my ONE semester and a half spent at FAMU is a whole nother Oprah, but i'll just say that there were many unkept promises of financial aid and an offer to buy a car for me that was sadly nothing more than an offer. Still hurts to think about that. And in Forrest Gump fashion, "That's all I'm gone say about that."

After I dropped out of college and went on to stumble through what I was calling "My Life" at the time, another eight years would pass before I would pick up my phone one day to a voice saying, "Hey, baby, this is Daddy."
My response,
"I'm sorry, but I think you may have a wrong number."

"This is Cat, ain't it?"

"Um.....yes...it is. Who is this?"

"This ya' daddy. I talked to ya' momma, Dianne, yesterday and got ya' number cause I'm gone be up in *Atlanna* tomorrow at ya' Aunt Theresa's house and I'm gone have two of ya' sista's with me and I want ya to come over."

Me, thinking,
"I've got two sisters? Really? I've got an aunt that lives in Atlanta? Really?"

"Well, you ain't said nothing. Can ya' come by?"

"Well, yessir. I guess I can."

What I learned from that encounter:
When my mother was pregnant, my mother's mother apparently told HIM that I was not his, that my mother was actually pregnant by someone else.

What I came away with:
An apology for HIM's immaturity during the earlier years of my life. An expression of regret for not being there for me when I was growing up. And an offered olive branch to establish a relationship.

The Past Eight Years:
HIM has come through for me from time to time. HIM gave me the money to buy a refrigerator when I closed on my house. HIM's given me money to catch up on bills at different times. And HIM has given me miscellaneous amounts of money for no real reason at times in between.

I have come to know the three brothers and three sisters that HIM has by four other women. All interesting people and mostly good people with good hearts who are producing members of society. Sometimes, I have to hold down the jealousy that I feel as I have learned how involved HIM was in their lives and how HIM supported them while they were in college.

I have attended a couple of 'family reunions' which I ended up being very uncomfortable at because I feel like an outsider among a group of people who share family history and physical similarities. (Of course, I don't think i look like any of them.)


"Yeah, this Junior's daughter."

"No, unt-un, Naw, Sherry ain't her momma. Dianne. You know, Lillie Blue's daughter."


HIM was my 'date' for my ten year class reunion dinner.

A couple of years ago, I went with HIM, his wife and two of my sisters on a family trip to my brother's house in Chicago at Thanksgiving. It is cold as as all get out in Chicago in November. My father's wife is an interesting person. My baby sister was an aggravating spoiled brat and my brother's fiance can't cook.

Even after the last eight years of attempting to know HIM better, I still do not really KNOW this man who calls himself 'Daddy'. Besides, most of the time, I do not feel like HIM REALLY believes that I am his daughter.

I can count the number of supposedly REAL conversations that we have had on my hands. Those conversations were stilted and did not flow freely.

We have nothing in common. From time to time, HIM will attempt to offer me fatherly advice and put his foot down in a fatherly fashion. Unfortunately, it doesn't come off verywell. I am a grown woman. You really can't tell me what to do. Where were you 20 years ago?

There have still been broken promises.

"Baby, I know you've been trying to start that business. Daddy wants to give you some money to help you out. Tell ya' what, put me together a proposal on what it is you want to do and what you're going to do with money. And I'm gone help you. Cause I believe that none of my children should have to work for The Man if they don't want to."

"Baby, Daddy is gone pay yo' truck off. There are just somethings that I don't want you to have to deal with and I think it will be easier for you to manage your bills if you don't have that to worry about. Besides, I spent about $30,000 last year getting your brother out of trouble. So, I want to do something for you too."

Well, I never got the money for my business and I'm still struggling to make a car payment every month and my wonderful brother was apparently just sentenced to three years in prison on a drug charge, so that HIM's $30,000 was just money down the damned drain.

Most of the time, HIM doesn't bother to return my phone calls.

And yes, that may have something to do with the fact that I only call HIM when I'm asking for money, but really, do I care if he doesn't like it?

When it comes to dancing with HIM, I choose the tune that is playing.

I am the choreographer.

I am the one that does the leading AND the following.

Because when it comes to dancing with HIM,

I am on the dance floor alone.

9.26.2005

today...i'm feeling...

grown woman sexy...sam just left...and any time my surf on the red tide ends...i am in need of some MAJOR sexual healing...

bored...my job is EXTREMELY UNCHALLENGING...and i am okay with that...because it's just a job...not a career...do i feel bad because i am thirtysomething with no clear career goals?...no...

oh...that reminds me...a part of the requested My Definition of Success...i know that the phrase CAREER PATH does not appear ANYwhere in that definition...

i actually have some ideas for entreprenuerial endeavors that i would like to pursue...but...as with most entreprenuers...lack of capital is a serious roadblock...but alas...everything that is supposed to happen will and with that in mind...i'm sure my plans will come together...

not hungry...i brought a turkey sandwich for lunch today...but either just don't have a taste for it...or...i'm just not hungry...we'll see...


old...i'll be 33 in 23 days...dayum!!!

kinda melancholy...and i think i know the reason...has something to do with realizing that what i want a certain situation in my life to be is not what it actually is...and with that realization comes the urge to do something about it...

or not...

which i think it's sometimes good to do nothing when it comes to some things in ya' life...or to at least delay your reaction...that way...you can buy yourself a bit of a time to gather more information...look at all angles and make a better decision when ya' get down to that do or die time...

i'm feeling some other things today as well...but that would require me to venture out into deeper waters...

and since i can't swim...

i'ma go sit my arse down in one of the chairs by the pool...

9.23.2005

becoming...

every day...i am evolving...into the person i've always been...

one day...i will look back and remember me...

i have only recently realized that i must cease struggling against who i allowed others to convince me that i should become and relax into the being that i have been all along...

yes...i have dreams and aspirations and goals and so on and as such...and yes...i know that i possess a fair amount of intelligence and talent and that i have so much potential...

i don't apologize to anyone who may be disappointed by my lapse into self that leaves their expectations of my greatness unfulfilled...

it's becoming clearer to me that my definition of success does not meet those outlined by the society that i live in...

and struggling under the oppressive chains of that definition...i had begun to label myself...as unmotivated, indecisive, lacking follow through, a failure, full of sh*t, lazy, sorry even...but in reality...i am none of those things...

instead...what i am...is free...

free to become the person i already am...

9.21.2005

wading in shallow water...

I haven't been writing lately because I have been making an effort to determine why i blog.

Initially, I set this spot up because my girl, Mia, who blogs at the AJC was going out of town for a week sometime last year. Hence the name, OneWeekOnly. However, I decided to keep it up and obviously, it's gone on longer than a week.

I know that sometimes I write because I want the spotlight. I want SEVERAL people to regularly visit my blog and leave witty comments and engage in thought provoking dialogue and just be Blog Star.

Sometimes, I write to make a point. And that much is obvious.

Sometimes, I write for entertainment purposes only. Not sure how entertaining I actually am. But at least I think I am and that's good enough for me.

I visit other's blogs frequently and I am often impressed with the ingenious ways in which people express themselves and explore the deepest parts of their being.

I've looked back at some of my scribblings and I guess some of what I've written could pass as being deeply introspective. But most of what I write does not. And I had begun to question the depth, or lack thereof, of my subject material. And I had also begun to question my talent. And I can't NOT mention the questioning of my motivation.

Introspection is not my favorite activity. Most of what is going on in my psyche, I just let ride until I am forced to deal with it. It just takes too much work and I am too lazy. As such, many of my questions remain unanswered.

I am content with wading in the shallow water.

9.08.2005

And We Will Forget Again...

since katrina stormed onto the gulf coast a week ago...i've been holding myself in a place of emotional immobility...too overcome with feelings to be able to process them all...and actually...in my adopted fashion...there's a lot of what i've been feeling about the whole thing that i will probably never address...i'll just let time pass and eventually...most of this will fade...

it will stop being the lead story on the news...people will stop being saddened, shocked, grieved, pissed, angry, outraged, heartbroken, mortified, sympathetic, compassionate and all of the other emotions that humans experience in the face of a tragedy of this magnitude...

and because i'm out of words right now...i am going to re-post something that i originally posted back in january...i know that there was something that happened in my life at that time that triggered this post...and as proof positive of how true the sentiment is for me...i can't put my finger on just what that was...i've already forgotten...


How Soon We Forget
Originally Posted January 2005

One of the most beautiful aspects of the human spirit is its resiliency and it's ability to withstand the trials of life and not linger in defeat, but to bravely continue to take each step forward and move past those challenges which could have kept us down.

It's because of one of the truest statements ever - Life Goes On. And trust, it will go on. With or without you, the world will keep spinning causing the sun to stand at attention by day and the moon to rest in the sky at night.

Out of that ability to move on comes the tendency for people, places, things and incidents to lose the strength of their impact on our lives. With stressful or chaotic or catastrophic occurences, this is a good thing. We would surely die if we could not move past the painful times in our lives. Can you imagine what it would be like to live continually with the feelings of that specific moment of a thing that caused you great pain or distress or dispair? In cases like that, it is good that we are ALLOWED to forget.

But the fading memories of good times is a tragedy. The memory of that wonderful thing a person did for you, or a particular time when you triumphed and rejoiced. Wouldn't it be wonderful to continuously live in that state of euphoria?.

I would LOVE to be continually so happy that i couldn't stand it.

Said all of that to say:

Do not forget the good times. Hold fast to those precious moments in which you know joy unspeakable. Put them behind a special door in your heart so that on your darkest days, you can step up to that door, fling it wide open and walk into the memories of the beautiful places in your life.