It was rather a dingy and dark evening once sunset had set, and it
had just vanished, it was a pretty sunset with its: purples and reds and
yellows and once gone, it left a fair number of stars overhead, over
the big swimming pool called Lake Erie, where one cannot see from shore
to shore, but a few lights shown out here and there, wonderfully
far-off, and so vague and indistinct.
The vengeful spirit in my wife, exulted.
My life was not as happy as it was.
I said to her, "I wish you'd enjoy yourself!"
But she was raddling on and on, recklessly raddling; in spite of anything I could do or say, her manic attack persisted. She would have not cared even if it was right out in the public's eye.
We were standing in a park with an obelisk in front of us, the giant lake just beyond. It was 1972, our twin boys were nine months old just starting to walk, and her sister had invited us up there from Minnesota, and then kicked us out of her home, I had less than $2.00-dollars left on me. I had found a job at Erie Electric Company and was waiting to get paid, and we lived in a redbrick four-plex; having found it by chance, or God's grace, and I begged the owner to let us move in, that I'd do all the handy work she wanted, and as I said, I found it by the skin of my chin: finding the apartment at the very last minute before we'd all have to sleep in the car, a 1965 Ford Galaxy 500.
"All right, I'll try." She said.
The night began to cool, our twin boys were by our side, Cody and Shawn, and Marla, had one in each hand. Thus, I had a moment for myself, so I walked the shoreline of the Great Lake. I desired the quiet, away from the high-handed anger she now harbored from day to night, more often than not displayed at will, as if some stump had gotten into her way and wanted to kick it to kingdom come.
It appeared to me, I had put my life into a pod, with an outcast. A new creature indeed. It wearies me to fret about it, even writing this short-lived account, for it was a mental triangle.
She was always in distress. I had met her, when she was sixteen, married her at seventeen, I was seven years her senior, and freshly out of the War in Vietnam. She was tall a pretty, long blond hair, and with a shapely figure, smart, or should I say, sharp as a whip, but there was a waywardness about her, she was by nature a forbidden fruit, a whirlpool of emotions, a goat island. I didn't seriously know her mental condition at the time, but I would in seven years forward: in 1979, it would all come to a halt. And for seven long years, she jolted me; I was by all means to her a drunkard in those days. So help me Moses! A drunkard can't hold down a job, or put up with such shenanigans. But I did. Then in 1974, I went up to Buffalo New York, to reenlist back into the Army, it would serve three purposes: a job, college, and medical, if not mental, help for Marla.
Nothing was satisfactory to her, so I'll leave out of this story any of her remarks, but rest assured, as time went on, she became more secluded, and obliterated all my cloths, and held a 45 Automatic to my head. And many other foolish things, whatever engaged her mind.
Anyhow, I was now back in the Army, and had finished my first two years of college, got my AA Degree, now working on my BS. The children were healthy, it was 1975 and we lived in Babenhausen, West Germany, and her condition worsened, I was walking on eggshells, as they say, and I always seemed to be moving in those days, as if the ground or floor I was standing on was too hot. They put her on medication, and she was a walking, talking, living zombie. Yet, never was a man more grateful, when I got my BS Degree, we now were in Alabama, and she was mighty ill mentally, and along with that came constant complaining, but it all was superfluous, the same old thing. Beseeching me to stop drinking, stop this, stop that, perhaps on the drinking she was right, but when I did stop for a year, it didn't matter, her behavior didn't change, so I started back up again; it was constant, tedious complaints, and I figured what I needed was change, and perhaps she felt the same way, she actually asked me to leave, before I could tell her I wanted to leave, or was going to.
However I did not feel discourage, I started to work on my Masters, figured it was best to make some allowances, for doubtless, she was worsening, and I had to care for the boys along with other duties. The wheels were turning in my head; I started back up drinking again: as I had mentioned. For a while there I was nothing certain about anything, and I fully believed the marriage was an accident, and in 1980, what little might have been left, was gone!
The vengeful spirit in my wife, exulted.
My life was not as happy as it was.
I said to her, "I wish you'd enjoy yourself!"
But she was raddling on and on, recklessly raddling; in spite of anything I could do or say, her manic attack persisted. She would have not cared even if it was right out in the public's eye.
We were standing in a park with an obelisk in front of us, the giant lake just beyond. It was 1972, our twin boys were nine months old just starting to walk, and her sister had invited us up there from Minnesota, and then kicked us out of her home, I had less than $2.00-dollars left on me. I had found a job at Erie Electric Company and was waiting to get paid, and we lived in a redbrick four-plex; having found it by chance, or God's grace, and I begged the owner to let us move in, that I'd do all the handy work she wanted, and as I said, I found it by the skin of my chin: finding the apartment at the very last minute before we'd all have to sleep in the car, a 1965 Ford Galaxy 500.
"All right, I'll try." She said.
The night began to cool, our twin boys were by our side, Cody and Shawn, and Marla, had one in each hand. Thus, I had a moment for myself, so I walked the shoreline of the Great Lake. I desired the quiet, away from the high-handed anger she now harbored from day to night, more often than not displayed at will, as if some stump had gotten into her way and wanted to kick it to kingdom come.
It appeared to me, I had put my life into a pod, with an outcast. A new creature indeed. It wearies me to fret about it, even writing this short-lived account, for it was a mental triangle.
She was always in distress. I had met her, when she was sixteen, married her at seventeen, I was seven years her senior, and freshly out of the War in Vietnam. She was tall a pretty, long blond hair, and with a shapely figure, smart, or should I say, sharp as a whip, but there was a waywardness about her, she was by nature a forbidden fruit, a whirlpool of emotions, a goat island. I didn't seriously know her mental condition at the time, but I would in seven years forward: in 1979, it would all come to a halt. And for seven long years, she jolted me; I was by all means to her a drunkard in those days. So help me Moses! A drunkard can't hold down a job, or put up with such shenanigans. But I did. Then in 1974, I went up to Buffalo New York, to reenlist back into the Army, it would serve three purposes: a job, college, and medical, if not mental, help for Marla.
Nothing was satisfactory to her, so I'll leave out of this story any of her remarks, but rest assured, as time went on, she became more secluded, and obliterated all my cloths, and held a 45 Automatic to my head. And many other foolish things, whatever engaged her mind.
Anyhow, I was now back in the Army, and had finished my first two years of college, got my AA Degree, now working on my BS. The children were healthy, it was 1975 and we lived in Babenhausen, West Germany, and her condition worsened, I was walking on eggshells, as they say, and I always seemed to be moving in those days, as if the ground or floor I was standing on was too hot. They put her on medication, and she was a walking, talking, living zombie. Yet, never was a man more grateful, when I got my BS Degree, we now were in Alabama, and she was mighty ill mentally, and along with that came constant complaining, but it all was superfluous, the same old thing. Beseeching me to stop drinking, stop this, stop that, perhaps on the drinking she was right, but when I did stop for a year, it didn't matter, her behavior didn't change, so I started back up again; it was constant, tedious complaints, and I figured what I needed was change, and perhaps she felt the same way, she actually asked me to leave, before I could tell her I wanted to leave, or was going to.
However I did not feel discourage, I started to work on my Masters, figured it was best to make some allowances, for doubtless, she was worsening, and I had to care for the boys along with other duties. The wheels were turning in my head; I started back up drinking again: as I had mentioned. For a while there I was nothing certain about anything, and I fully believed the marriage was an accident, and in 1980, what little might have been left, was gone!
