The View from the Street

When I was 5 years old we lived in Cherry Hill, New Jersey.   It was this lovely suburban village, the houses are not near images of each other.  There is still a diversity of building planning going on.  This is probably a good two decades before the 'Pringles' of suburbia appear.

The lawns are all neatly mowed to only a 3 inch height, as if the Neighborhood watch had set a limit.

My father decided we should plant a dogwood tree in the front of the house.  So these lovely simply flowers frame our beige four bed roomed family home.  One of the bedrooms was converted to be my Father's office.  Perhaps the office was put there to encourage him to be at home more often.   My mother often says, if there is a picture of my Dad 'doing' something with us, it was because it only happened that once.  {So rarely was he home or, even involved, that it had to be recorded.}

My Father had arranged a two week long trip to Europe in order to bring back a Volvo.   This was my first International flight.   We had to wait a long time to get on the plane.   I remember, everything in London.   The Hitchcock film, Frenzy was released and being advertised by Posters' using a sharp contrast grey, black and white with a blood tingling red tie.   I was curious and tantalized by this concept of a person strangling women.

I remember being young enough to get rides on my father's shoulders.   Our family discovered Roll cake, you know, made with vanilla sponge and a jam with cream rolled up!   I think we had slices of this as often as we could have tea.   We saw a three wheeled car and I bought a picture of the Queen.   It was a postcard, but the Queen back in 1970, was beautiful!   To me, she was exactly what a Regal, Beautiful and Elegant Queen should be!   I played with that postcard picture when I returned home, I looked at it so often that the image is so deeply burned in my mind.   Yes, England really captured my imagination.   We spent what seems to be just one day exploring Scotland.   We looked for 'Nessie' and had a picnic.

Then we sped over to Germany, where we collected the car.  Then we piled in and We drove around in it.  I mean, seriously?   Just because you bought the car, doesn't mean you know how to handle it on foreign lands.   {It is quite funny to realize, we slept in the car as my Dad drove us around, I believe I was allowed to sleep either on the space between the rear window and head rests of the back seats.   There were no rules and guidelines on seat belts and car seats.   I can remember playing in what I call 'the Well', in the back seat, the place for the feet of the passengers.   In the car, there was a quite elevated gear shift and this made a raised barrier, nearly knee height, from one passenger foot well to the other.   That was my place to ride in the car.   Being the youngest, I was not entitled to full seating!}  As we drove through Germany, my father was pulled over by the Police.   This was very late, or the wee hours of the morning, but it was pitch dark outside the windows of the car.   The accent of the Police officer was very intimidating.   One of the features of the Volvo, was this long sliding bright orange speed gauge guide.   I think, the driver moved it to his target speed, let's say 60 mph, and this orange pointer assisted the driver's focus on staying near that speed.   {Yep, this is the dark ages of car driving.}  So, the Police officer and my father were not communicating well.  But, there is this, well remembered moment, {My Father was ribbed about this for years!} where the Police officer reaches in and moves this pointer up and up the slide and my father shakes his head and moves it down.   This carried on for quite some time!   We always joke about my father trying to convince the German Police officer he wasn't speeding.   We did have to go to the Police station that night!

Of the castles and wondrous sights of my first trip to Europe, so many stored so brightly in my mind, it is really hard to decide which ones to share.   One precious memory, of seeing a golden foot, as a bizaree and quirky, gilded cornice work, in the Château de Versailles.   Then there was the not lovely, nor grand salt mines and coveralls we had to wear and the odd little train we took to view them.    Then there was the Tomb of the Monks.   These Monastic hoarders, saved the bones of their Brothers and decorated the walls with femur's and ulna's.   Yeah, creepy, but totally unforgettable!   So, these vivid memories and the focus of this lengthy time of being together, to bring back, my Father's car.

The car became a focal point.  It was called the Blue Baby and we all cherished his car, as he did.
 Also, there are the fond jokes we made like 'Blue Baby goes vrum, vrum' as a way to express it's uniqueness.   I have a clear image of a photograph that was taken of us giving it a good scrub.   I can see my mother, wearing a mini skirt, the fashion at the time, and she has smiled just like a model for the camera.    After a few years we apply bright psychedelic flowers to the areas that have become rusty.

But, the Blue Baby is a symbol of success and status.   Was the car bought solely for the neighbors to see it parked in front of the house with the dogwood trees?


When you look at my family from this angle, you probably imagine life is really good.   My father was handsome and successful.   My mother, was a blonde bombshell.   We had all the modern appliances in the house.   I think if you hadn't a clue, you would really think, it was just like a really happy existence.

Now, I am going to take you forward, by super sonic Time Travel.

Now, we are in Scotland.   This is where I moved to when I married.   We lived not far from the College my spouse worked in, until we knew, we would raise four children.   Then a two bed roomed flat would not suit our needs.   So we started to look at property's.   The house that caught our eye had one great feature.   It was the kitchen that sold this house to us.   The kitchen was converted when the couple added an extension and a spare room in the loft space.   The rest of the house, was that traditional cute cottage one envisions when thinking of quintessential British homes. From the entrance you have two rooms, one on either side of the hall from the front door.  The one bathroom, off  the hall and then you walk around the corner, and from there the space opens up to this great kitchen with a central island cooker.   The tiling was beautiful deep blue and there are patio doors that lead to an enclosed garden.   For a family with four very young children, this was a superb dream home.

I think, from the outside, I tried to make everything look as good as it looked in my childhood.   I really wanted to make my children's life a wonderful learning journey.   I know this is a common human desire, to give our children one step better than we had growing up. I wanted to give my children the best of everything and part of that was the desire to give them a secure family environment.  {This becomes a trap for me, as the desire to stay married and give my kids the best against the desire to live my life without fear of constant abuse}   I was really into being a mother.

I would play classical music as well as modern music to sing and dance around holding my baby.  I also sang to them at bedtime, one of my passionate interests in High School was singing, so I had a few pieces stored in my mind.  My eldest was sung to the most, she had the advantage for a few months over the other children.   I also, always engaged the children in cooking activities, such as making cake!   There most be more than a dozen photo's of the kids covered in cake batter.   {I read that back and it sounds to me as if we made the cake batter and I tipped it over them, took a photograph, just for the laughs!}   I also would make, homemade play dough.

But, when the children were no longer infants and toddlers, I used to spend Saturday nights, preparing a short Sunday school craft lesson for my kids.   I also ran a Toddler group with a great young woman.  We always made sure, there were Tea's, Coffee's and craft available.   So, you can see, I really wanted to give my kids a great upbringing.  It is one of the sadder parts of my life, that my parents were so caught up in the drama of their lives, take time to play with me.

For me, over compensation was the answer!   As my dear friend Julie always says, "I never met anyone who was ready to be a parent.  You were always Mothering somebody in school".  I don't remember it that way, but, she may have a better perspective.

There has been more that one time, since I left my spouse, that I have stood washing dishes and  started to feel the anger.   Angry that, my children, could have had better!  If he had just honoured me, as Mother.  As the Centre of the Universe to lives of our four children, being their Mother is actually a very significant place!   The philosophy of the Women's Aid Shelter, is that the Happiness of the Mother is reflected in the well being of the child!   Now, I know that is true.   When I am in a good place, my kids feel it.   They respond to that warmth and joy within me, and it has to be part of what develops as confidence.

Now, I know No one is happy twenty four seven!  There are family members who have severely criticized me, for leaving him.   Thinking that I was holding him totally responsible for my happiness.   Part of the problem then, was that I didn't know how to express what was going on in my marriage.   As the pure violent abuse was far and few between!   I am not about blaming it all on him.   I was repeating the pattern, although at that time, unwittingly.

So I am not saying, "All Men have to do all they can to ensure their partner's complete euphoria!"  No.   We all have to step up and be responsible for our part, what we know we need to be happy, and that will be different from individual  to individual.   My point here is;-   to do with my personal experience.   That being, the father of my children, started regularly, consistently putting me down and repeating abusive controlling behaviour.  I now understand and believe, he did this to make himself feel better.   As now, 6 years separated and legally divorced.   I understand the words that my counselor used to say,"A bully suffers from low self esteem."  Even my good friend tried to help me understand that, the constant criticism I lived with, was his way of trying to make himself feel better!

At that time, that woman, who was juggling the needs of her children.   Her desire to give them all the best of her varied experience and education, she was made to feel completely useless and unworthy.

It wouldn't take much, any day of the week you could walk in the door of that house and find, a messy place somewhere.   What I started to do, would be frantically scurry around from about 5 pm.   It was my pattern, to get the kids in the front lounge with a TV show and start cleaning up.   In the hopes that there would be no place for him to point at and go, "There!  You failed at picking this up, or this is out of place!"

I hope your laughing, because it is ludicrous!   Four young children?   And any item within any room out of place as a starting point for tearing the Mother down?

Great!  So there I was, repeating my Mother's pattern of making things appear good from the outside.  However, within,

within the walls

within the hearts and minds of the family members, there was fear.




I want to finish on a more positive note.   I really want to leave you thinking there is a good and positive reason for all this, because that is what I believe!

I did my absolute best at that time!  I did my best to love and give my children and their father all I had.

That is all we can ever do!