GOLDEN SHOWER AT MIDNIGHT... YES, HE DID THAT!

GOLDEN SHOWER AT MIDNIGHT... YES, HE DID THAT!

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was driving from the North Carolina mountains down to Raleigh, NC to see my mother. Tommy was sitting in the front seat chattering away. He was a precious little boy of eight. He was looking forward to seeing his uncles, Rick-Rick and David. They weren't much older than Tommy.

I was looking forward to seeing my mom, not only that... I loved driving for three hours 'going somewhere'! I drove too fast, I was always driving too fast. I hurried to get to places when I didn't need to. I wanted to be 'there', to know I was where I was supposed to be... when the time for being there... came.

My mom didn't drive fast, but, she was an early bird... I had taken that after her. We always had to be early and in place before things began.

I was enjoying driving and riding with the big trucks. I could get between them and make time. I never once thought of the dangers of doing that as that young woman. Young people never know how they take their life in their hands... there's no way they know... until something happens. Hopefully nothing bad... when it does.

We drove up in mom's driveway. Her husband had built her the dream house she'd always wanted. It was a very pretty 3 bedroom brick house. I loved the windows... there were lots of windows in the den, one of the rooms I loved best. My favorite room was the dining room.

The dining room and kitchen were separated by a long countertop. The dining table sat in front of the sliding glass doors where one could look out while they were eating, or sitting there drinking iced tea. I loved doing that. One could walk out on the deck through the glass doors.

The evening came quickly, then, it was time to go to bed. Tommy slept with David. He and David were closer in age and did things together. I slept on the couch in the den.

The next morning when I got up, I went to the dining room where mom and her husband were laughing and talking. I was curious as to what was so funny.

Mom told me that about midnight last night, her husband woke up feeling something very warm, very wet! He turned the lamp on and there was Tommy ...standing there peeing on him! Tommy was walking in his sleep! He didn't get upset at him, got up and led Tommy back to bed.

I joined in the laughter, it was so funny... I'd never seen Tommy do 'that' before!

WARNING: THAT'S NOT CHOCOLATE YOU ARE EATING!

WARNING: THAT'S NOT CHOCOLATE YOU ARE EATING!

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I watched as Grandma Alma opened the little box of chocolate candy.. she worked the fingers on her good hand to open the foil that held the little square pieces of candy.

"Grandma, I want one".... I could already taste the chocolate in my mouth. Grandma told me that "no", I couldn't have one, that I didn't need it right now.

I played that morning, all the while thinking about Grandma's chocolate candy. I thought I would have a piece of it, but, I had to think about how to get one!

I sat on the floor cross-legged in front of the bookcase. I picked a book from the bookcase and opened it. The white pages in the book was where my interest lay. I was going to draw and color on the white page. It was one of my most favorite things to do as a child. I would sit for hours drawing and coloring on those white pages in each book... never noticed. That was my little safe place.

I was nine years old and I hadn't been at Grandma Alma and George's home long. It was wild there, and seemed to be something going on all the time.

When I slipped between the arm of the couch and the bookcase... sitting on the floor, I was almost out of sight and out of the main 'walkway' from the front door through the living room I was in... to Grandma's sitting room (later in my mind to become the 'arena' for entertainment, fighting and just plain 'raising Cain').

My mind kept seeing my grandma's one good hand working her fingers to open that tin foil on the chocolate candy. I liked chocolate, I really wanted some of that chocolate. I wondered why she wouldn't give me some. She always gave me things I liked.

A drop of saliva fell onto the white page I was drawing on. Yes, I was going to figure out how to get a piece of that chocolate candy.

I put my pencil and crayons inside the bookcase. I'd already put the book back into place before I knew it... my mind was on the little box that held that candy.

I got up and walked through the doorway of grandma's sitting room. I stood a moment, smiling at my grandma, she smiled back at me. I walked to her recliner, she began talking to me. My Grandma Alma loved to talk to me. I loved talking to her.

I went closer so, I could hug her. "I love you, grandma", I said. I was hugging her and as she held me... my eyes were looking on the old dresser that sat by her chair. My grandma's dresser had everything in the world on it! Bottles of medicine, bottles of Beauty Ray lotion and several bottles of alcohol.

There was Grandma Alma's big glass of ice water sitting there.... I still didn't see that chocolate candy! Darn! I bet it's in that top drawer... Grandma Alma kept lots of stuff there. I knew I couldn't go in her drawer easily, she sat there all the time.

George made grandma lunch, after she ate she asked him to please help her get to the bedroom. Grandma Alma wanted to take a nap! Oh-hhhhhhhhhhhh......

I watched George help Grandma Alma stand up, her one good hand pulling her dress down over her legs. Her right arm just hung by her side. Grandma had been very sick and in a coma some time before I came to live at her house. I'd remembered her walking and smiling before. She took me to the place she worked and there was a train and toys, and Santa Claus. Now, she couldn't walk easily ... Grandma Alma had had a stroke.

One of Grandma's legs was dragging as George held her by the waist. Grandma held onto her walker for support. They both finally went through the bedroom door which was right beside the old dresser and grandma's recliner.

George couldn't see me, he was blind. Grandma couldn't turn around now... I opened that top drawer and there that candy was! I was going to have some of that chocolate candy! I know I must have been smiling!

I grabbed the box quickly, closed the drawer almost closed... I knew I had to get that box back in there. I ran through the door on the other side of Grandma Alma's recliner! Her sitting room had three doors to it... it was the center of the house.

I was in the kitchen! I began opening that tinfoil on the chocolate candy and broke off several pieces of it... I didn't think Grandma Alma could tell that any was missing. I crammed it in my mouth and wrapped quickly what was left, and ran quietly back to Grandma Alma's old dresser! I dropped the little box into the crack I'd left at the top of the drawer.

Grandma Alma and George were busy fussing about what they'd have for supper. I began hopping and skipping through the door of the living room, right on out that front door. I was on the front porch, I walked to the porch swing and sat down.

I leaned back in that swing, I was grinning because that chocolate sure tasted so... good! I had to keep wiping the chocolate because I had alot in my mouth. I didn't want to swallow it all at one time, it was too good!

I had to go get some water, it was hard to swallow all that chocolate without water. I hopped and skipped through the front door licking my lips, sucking all that chocolate off my tongue, swallowing every last little bit of it. It was good!

I skipped through the living room, sitting room, into the kitchen. I went to the white cupboard with glass doors on my right. I wanted a glass for water.

I opened the glass door, there was a scent that I wasn't used to. I didn't like it at all. There were bugs in that cabinet! I reached up to get the glass off the top shelf, it didn't shine like the glasses I'd always drank from. I jumped back, a brown bug fell off the glass to the floor! It scared me so much. I hated to go in Grandma Alma and George's cupboard!

I went to the sink and got water. I drank a whole glass of water, I put the glass in the sink. I skipped out the back door, onto the back porch. The back porch scared me at night time... it was screened in, and always had wood stacked up on it.

The huge, black wardrobe stood to the right of the backdoor. That wardrobe ... I stayed away from! Things could get me.. they could jump out on me. How well I knew! One night something big like a kitty jumped out almost on my head!

The bathroom door was to the left. The commode had brown tobacco stains on the side of it. George would lift the lid to spit tobacco juice into the water. He couldn't see the stains that would dry there. I'd never seen that before and would carefully sit on that commode.

My stomach didn't feel good and I didn't know why. It hurt several times, then... stopped. I thought I had to go to the bathroom, but no, I didn't have to. I went out the screen door into the yard.

There was a tree stump near the backdoor, it had an axe in it. I saw George chopping wood up. He could chop the wood into pieces, never missing the wood with the axe. I saw him, I know.

There was a fence that went between the neighbor's house in the backyard. Grandma and George had a building in the backyard... it had a door and window on one end, where there was a coal bin. The door on the other end was where they kept things. I saw all kinds of things in there. Magazines, boxes, old chairs and such.

At that end of the building was a space between it and the fence that was there. That was where my cousin, Sylvia, and I used to play. We made many mud pies and cooked alot of dishes there.

We always had water and dirt to make our mixes. We made beautiful things to eat when we were little... we could see everything we made... in our imagination. It was our special kitchen.. we could cook anything we wanted.

My stomach was beginning to hurt alittle more, and it wasn't exactly going away! I might have to tell Grandma Alma that I was sick. I might have to go to the bathroom first!

I was looking at our kitchen thinking about I'd be glad when Sylvia and them got back. I wanted to play. I had to go to the bathroom!

I ran back to the screen door, opened it and ran inside letting the screen door slam! As I ran into the bathroom I heard George holler... George sure did like to holler. "Don't slam that back door", I heard him say. I didn't have time to say that I wouldn't... I was on the commode, my stomach hurting, cramping. I was too young to know what was wrong. I knew I was sick and I had to tell Grandma!

Everytime I tried to leave the commode, I couldn't... I'd have to 'go'... again! "Grandma, Grandma!" I called. "I'm sick, Grandma!" I heard George's heavy steps coming quickly. "What's wrong with you, Faye?" I told him that my stomach was hurting something bad, and I couldn't stop going to the bathroom. He asked me what had I been eating. "Nothing, George, I didn't eat nothing", I said.

I couldn't stay out of the bathroom for the longest time, I was very sick. No one knew what was wrong with me, until.....

"Who has been in my Ex-Lax?" I heard my grandma ask George if he'd been into her Ex-Lax, that several of the squares were missing. George said "no", he didn't touch her Ex-Lax.

Grandma Alma said that if somebody was _______ alot, that's who has been into it. I heard George say " that young-un has been into your Ex-Lax!" I heard them both say "Faye" at the same time. I knew I was in trouble, but, not sure what for!

George began calling my name, I didn't go at first, he might whip me! George never whipped a child that I know of... but, at the time I didn't know his ways.

I finally slinked into the sitting room to where Grandma and George were sitting. "What, grandma?" She looked straight at me and asked me if I got some of her Ex-Lax.

Grandma, I didn't get any of your Ex-Lax, but, I got some of your chocolate candy. I just wanted some of that chocolate candy! I began crying. George began to laugh... he was a big man and he had a big, happy stomach! When he laughed, his stomach would move in the happiest way. I quit crying to watch, wondering why he was laughing.

Grandma Alma realized why he was laughing, she began laughing. I didn't see what was so funny, but, I began to laugh, too! I loved laughing with Grandma Alma and George... though George couldn't see... George had a twinkle in his eyes! I loved seeing laughter in my Grandma Alma's eyes. It felt like sunshine in that room!

Later, I found out... that I was the one who had been into her Ex-Lax .. I couldn't quite understand then, but, I never forgot how sick I had been... it was ugly! Needless to say... I never ate anymore Ex-Lax.

At Grandma Alma and George's ...I learned they had something better than that for me... they made sure I took it... and had everyone chase me to throw me on the bed and make me swallow it! It was Black Draught! No, I didn't ever need anymore Ex-Lax!

:)))

EVERY SCAR HAS A NAME ON IT...EVERY SCAR I KNOW PERSONALLY

EVERY SCAR HAS A NAME ON IT... EVERY SCAR I KNOW PERSONALLY...

Note: 

I began this as an email to my friend, and went on to write it to all my readers.  I had to write her
another little email to explain.  By Gloria Faye Brown Bates

Another Note:   

I noticed when I began to write my email... I 'knew' what I was going to do.... this is what
it became... my morning's story to everyone.  This is exactly how I begin when I draw or paint... I 'know' what
I am going to draw or paint... but, when I finish, it's completely different from what I started out to do.  I look
at it... and I am satisfied.  It came out better than I knew it would.  It's the same way... here.   
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates       

January 23, 2012

Good morning ________________,

Don't even let my stories make you feel upset. They have already happened and I've already endured the pain and through
the years I learned to put them in perspective in my own mind... I learned forgiveness. I even loved with my very heart all of these

people who mistreated, molested and abused me... as that little girl.

I'm honored that you feel and care so much for that little child who loved you. You were her friend who unknowingly made her
forget just for a short time that she lived in hell ... you, also, danced just as she did... to your own music and rhythm that made one
forget their troubles... gracious... that little girl didn't know what to call the 'bad' things in her life at that time... she just knew 'how

they felt'.   _________, you are very, very special to me until the day I die. I love you, you've withstood all the time... and you are

still here. One day I will write something I'll dedicate just to you, how much my ____ _______ means to me. The words haven't come to me.. just yet.  What I admire about you is that you continued all through the years to dance to your own music, being your own person and everyone else to their own.  You are a real person, one of the most real... I know.

I don't tell my stories to hurt anyone.. I tell them to connect with
people who have been there, been through it ... and to let people 'know'.... hey, this stuff really happens. It happens, I know it for a

fact... I've been on those paths in life. If it entertains, and makes one feel... it's good. It's good to have compassion, empathy for others.

Who knows.. it may stop 'you' from abusing your child, or protect a child who is in a situation and needs someone to protect them. Who
knows? Just who knows?

I keep in mind that some of the younger generation now, are reading what I write. I can say this... some of the younger generation may
wonder 'who' done these things as a younger person, 'before' they were born. I can only say... it could have been your mother, father, brother,
sister, cousin, aunt, uncle, grandfather, grandmother, great-grandmother or great-grandfather... people you might have had opportunity to know
for a short time............ but, never knew the person they were in the past. They became through the years the good and loving people you knew
as a child... I'm happy for you. I had a 'lifetime with them' .... before you were ever thought of, because your parents and the generation before them,
were little children at the same time I was, or some of the ones who were doing those things. It's a fact of life... we have to deal with it.. no one is

perfect.

I'm not perfect... and since I came from imperfect people, it affected my abilities to raise a child properly, to be a married woman, mother,
person all through my younger years. It affected 'then'.... how I let people walk on me like I was less than a person....... until the day I took a stand.
That was years ago... now, I'll die and go to my grave knowing.... no one will ever have opportunity to mistreat me again, or make me feel less
than.... see, I 'know' everyone now. I know everyone comes from the same 'pattern' and most are afraid to break out of it, and make their own
patterns... be themselves. I did, and no one likes me. :))) I don't miss it.. I never knew how it felt to be liked and loved by anyone in my 'family'...
so, how can I miss it. It doesn't bother me. There are several people.... several 'birds' :))) that I'm like, and I'm proud of being like, in my 'family'.

These 'birds' are my birds of a feather. They dared to be themselves, and through the years as I look back into my memories.... I see hate, scorn, fear,
dislike, ridicule, disbelief for those very people.... all because they were themselves, and they didn't follow the herd to feed. It was no 'monkey see or
monkey do'.... with these people. I admired them. I respected them... so, did the others but, they felt 'threatened' by them. They were leaders, them-
selves. They danced to their own music and rhythm of a different drum. I've always said 'let's dance!' I danced to my own music... I got tired of your
song.

My dance of life is different, I've had to fight
for it in different ways, I had to fight to survive as a child, as a wife of a first failed marriage, as a person.... fight the battle of cancer, battle of depression,
battle of losing everything to a house fire, the deaths of practically everyone I loved in my life, the loss of my only child, my son..... just many such things
in life.... I made it. That is only a fraction of what my life's dance has been about. The worse being the loss of my son, Tommy, my only child.

Aunt Frankie told me as a child.... 'one day I could choose what I wanted in my life'.... thank-you, Frankie. How I loved
and respected you... you were so special. You weren't perfect at all, but... you were the best and you affected my life in the most positive of ways.
That soft, quiet, calming voice... those eyes filled with tears of compassion for a little girl everyone seemed to hate so badly. I love you, Aunt
Frankie, I miss you, I'm sorry I didn't come to see you when you would ask me, too. This does hurt me.. I feel it in my heart now... I know it hurts
because... tears are in my eyes and... I could cry now.

The children either went through alot I went through... or they were the few who never were put in harm's way. Even 'if you were
never put in harm's way'.... I 'know' you still suffered as a child' Not one child of my generation was spared... everyone has scars. I'm going to
write about them... not to hurt anyone ... but, to share with others what happened.... to me. I'll leave the rest for the others 'to write their own
stories'........... these are my stories... I will write them as only I would know them... I was there... I promise you I felt, and heard, and knew every-
thing! My little body was the body 'feeling and hurting' from all those things. Not your body... my body, my mind, my feelings.

If someone takes offense.......... then, everyone can 'wonder why
'you' out of anyone else'......... would choose to feel that way. You are too young to know these things and, if you want to say or do anything....

sit at your keyboard and do like me........... beginning writing your own story and if you want to make it a fairy tale, write a story, a fairy tale. I

noticed one time where one of the younger generation said something about going back to 'the old homeplace'........ I remember I was drinking coffee at
the time... as I read that.... I spit it out not meaning to.... laughing my ...... off! (I notice that some of you do try to make your childhood sound like a fairytale...
I know better... I know where 'we all began').

Why... that's the 'house that sits guarding the portal

of hell'.... it looks so innocent now.... it has been remodeled to look really very pretty.... but, nonetheless.. it didn't look like that when the person who

said that it was their 'old homeplace'... I 'know', I promise you that I 'know'. I 'know' also, 'why' that was said.... it was to make others think they came

from such a 'nice' place. I understand... I was young once... and tried to make my life 'sound perfect' to others who didn't know, to make them think

I was somebody who came from a 'nice' home.

No one in my generation ever called it the 'old homeplace'! That wasn't their homeplace anyway, I know where they lived as little children. My stories

aren't about this... this is something I happened to see.... and I stopped for a time in my mind and 'surrounded that statement' with my mind'....I
'walked around and around'......... I never did see 'the old homeplace' like they described.

We all try to pretend to be things we aren't. I did it as
a younger person... ashamed of being born, ashamed of where I come from, ashamed of not having real 'family' to care about me. They all would
love me for a short time.... nothing important I did matter... but, you can be sure that the ones who stayed in trouble, drank and did drugs.... were
the ones everyone loved and paid attention to. So, did I.... I loved, cared and worried about them... with my heart.

My mother and brother stand out in my mind.... my little brother, Rick-Rick. He never knew how many times I cried over him, afraid something

bad would happen to him... it did. I don't worry about him anymore. My mother...my heart hurts for her whenever I think of her. They both loved me
in their own way.

I know my other siblings love me as I do them... we don't know how to show that love... because that love could be jerked away at
any moment... someone might take offense and get mad, or hurt... the strange thing is I 'know' that not one of us would intentionally hurt the other. Not
one of us is like that toward the other... but, somehow 'we don't know that for sure', so, we'll live out our lives never being close because of that fear of
being hurt... it's the 'fear itself'......... if one could get past that 'fear'..............I can't even imagine what love is on the other side of that. I know that I'm
'here'... and if they do..... then, we all will have grown past whatever is 'born into each of us' to prevent us from forming lasting family relationships.

We are all very sensitive people with very real feelings. Even the slightest thing can make the other feel hurt, never knowing that no one meant to hurt.
No one likes to feel pain, especially when they love and don't know how to show it. But... we all 'know' it's there. I love you my brothers and sister. I'm always 'here' for you.

Rick-Rick was the only one who could meet me on an even playing ground and
say 'I love you' and whether you hurt me or not, I love you anyway. I was the same way with him. No matter what ... we loved each other and if we didn't
feel the best at times toward the other.... no one would turn their back and walk away. I admired that in Rick-Rick. If he loved you, he never took it
back nor stopped loving you... never. He was going to love you... no matter what. I feel like I could cry now.

I have my brother, Rick-Rick's ashes.... they sit in a place of honor in my
artroom, as does my mother's ashes, and my cousin's ashes. They sit in a room of happycolors, and sunshine... they sit where happy and creative

thoughts are at. Love is in that room for them... for Tommy and for Lena. I have special chests for each one...excepting I still have to get a special

little chest for Jimmy, my cousin.

I am not happy that these things happened to me and pretend those things are 'hunky-dory' and wonderful now
..... I still look back... but, I don't let all that emotion affect me when I do... only...when I'm writing... I 'go into myself to feel again to
reach in there, in the past ....to bring things back to... 'now'............. so, people can see, feel and understand what happened, walk around
it in their minds to see, study, know how it feels. They can 'feel' when I hurt, when I was angry, when I cried, when I was happy.... my readers
will care more ...now... than anyone did 'back then'. I'm amazed at the emails I get... I'm 'pure' amazed.

When I'm through with looking at something of the past.... I go back in my mind and carry these things right back to
where they belong......... The Past. There they stay until.... I... decide to bring them out and.... use them again. Each time I bring them out
to 'now'... and I put them back into place...they lose alittle more power to hurt me.

All of that helped to shape me as the person I am,
now (I started to joke, ha!). I don't let it hurt me now... maybe once in a while I'll feel a twinge of pain... I have to put it back in its
place and leave it alone, or........ find a way to sneak up on it... so, I can write about it!

I want to write about the things I know best... everything that was inflicted on me as a child. I've read and heard long enough
that if you write to sound sincere to your readers.......... only write about what you as a person knows best. Well, I'm writing what I
know best and most all is true... I may put the wrong color or describe something alittle differently... that's where I've forgotten, or have
a mental block...so,I can go on with my story... it's not important. I'll put what comes naturally to my mind and keep on writing to tell my story.

What is important is the story I have to tell... so, I don't have time to stop and dwell on the pain, or if something was blue when in reality,
it was green. What matters is the story being told. Just when reading... keep that in mind
that when I'm writing... I'm going back 'in deep enough for the moment to feel and see again' what was happening back in time... I write
what I'm 'feeling and seeing and sensing'. It can be emotional... but, it's not happening now.. so, it's alright. That adds to my stories... 'real
emotions, real words'..... and guess what?

If you 'feel, see in your mind, and sense'........ then, I'm telling my story in the right way. You

are appreciating the story I have to tell and it makes you 'feel' emotions. You are getting to imagine something if you've not ever experienced it... to

see, feel.... then, you can come back to reality all the more thankful you were spared that as a little child.... you were spared all that pain on

your little child's body... mind.

If you are recognizing what I write, you may have experienced even worse, or just as much, or alittle less.....it doesn't matter... pain is pain. Pain

hurts.. and for a little helpless child... they can't fight back. They can only look up at the person inflicting that pain... with their little wide, innocent
eyes not knowing 'why' you are hurting them... 'why?'

For just a brief moment.... look down at a little, precious child and while they stand there looking
back at you with little loving, smiling eyes, faces..... for a brief moment, think how it would feel to slap that child because it looked like its father, or
mother! In your mind 'slap them hard'! In that brief moment.... just imagine that child's face, just imagine the tears that come quickly to their eyes and

they look at you in shock... just imagine how that little precious child feels.

In your mind... 'begin screaming at that little innocent child, maybe slap it
some more in anger!' Watch that baby's face... you have done the most awful thing you could possibly do to a child ... and then, say you love it. You
have devastated that child, you have taken any security or love it may have felt... completely away from its world... that little child is 'stripped naked', no

protection of any kind... leaving it 'at the mercy of the world'. Everyone will now... take advantage of this little, unloved child and rape, molest, beat,

scream at it... and 'God knows what else'....... because they know no one is 'there to protect it or care, or whip their ass for harming that child'. Hey, no one

loves this kid.. I'll do as I please... no one is there to make me answer for my actions.

What they don't realize... is this child never forgets, this child grows
up.... and when it does... she notices ...you won't look her in the eyes and have to turn away.... why 'she could tell some things on you'. What you don't
realize is that she loved all the while you harmed her mind, harmed her body.... because you were her uncle, cousin, aunt, her 'family'. What you don't realize
is that she forgave you... and even at that time.. she would choose to forget just to feel a 'family's' love. But, no.... in your shame you have to look and turn

away...you 'know' you did wrong.

She forgave and loved you... anyway. She just couldn't forget... those scars that still hurt from time to time... make her

remember 'where they came from'. You may have grown old, some of you may have already died.... but, she still remembers each scar from 'each' of you.

When that scar hurts ... each scar has your name on it. My scars of many.... have many of my 'family's' names on them. I can name them off and it would
be like a classroom of people............. the classroom of life and life's experiences. Scars...... with names. My scars.... have real names... each one is a
memory of one of my 'family' members, and people in my life. No, I'll never forget you... but, I do love and forgive you. I've never-ever wished bad for
you and your life. Never. I............... almost did, though.

In that brief moment, imagine how that child will quickly forgive you and
still love you, though you've just slapped them for something they don't understand'. Imagine doing that to a child... plus, the rest of your family doing
that, also.... to that same child. That same child has become a 'scapegoat' to inflict physical, mental pain on... when you are angry at the world, or you
can't beat someone up because they'll whip your ass instead.... for a brief moment... think about what you are doing to that little precious child when you
take it out on them.

Now... in your mind, become that little precious child.... imagine people you respect and look up to, out of the blue... slaps or knocks you down, screaming
at you all the while until they become weak from exhausting themselves, and their tempers.... 'feel' that pain on your body, your mind and even see a little
blood on your legs or your arms to make it more real. How does it feel? Just how does it feel?

For a moment..... feelings from the past came back to my
mind just now... and I quickly had to close that door. I'm not ready just yet... to let them surface. I have to admit... just for this moment, I did feel anger at
how a little girl was treated.....either she was so innocent of all.... or maybe this little girl was too stupid for not knowing to look like her father, her mother

.....just maybe ...she should have hidden her face all the time. Little, stupid child... shame on you! You had the nerve to be born... shame on you. See......

for a moment 'I let you 'see' some anger that I thought was gone many years ago'.... for a moment you shared and read what 'for-real' went through my mind.
I 'chose' to share honestly for a moment ... what went through my mind ...just now. It's being 'put back up where it belongs.... in the past'...now. I'll bring
alittle at a time out... through time to write about.

Maybe this little girl should have been as mature as an adult... than to be innocent like the
little child she was. Maybe ...as a little girl.. there came times that she tried to leave this world.. and somehow, she'd wake back up... and hell was still there.

Maybe as a little girl.... she grew so tired of battling... it was a wonder anyone let her breathe. All made this little girl strong enough to endure her many battles

ahead in her life... she is still 'here'.... she is writing at this very moment. :))))) Everything is going to be alright.

Most everyone is dead now that I write about... most people don't even 'know where I come from' or where I've been or what I've done... so,
people who've wondered and have been curious... who like to be entertained... want to know... will have it 'all', ha! Not 'all', it stands to reason
we all have things we'll never talk about.. I'm no exception.

Anyway... I know this sounds strange... but, today.... I can look back and 'see why' some of the people did as they did.... there are some others that
I know 'were really sick in their mind'.... but, to everyone else... they were .... normal. Weird, isn't it? It's strange how 'weird' people appear so 'normal'.

I've seen people at their 'strangest'... no one would even believe they could 'possibly be like that'. One day... I'll tell you... you won't believe!

_________, I am going to copy and paste what I've written to you... I will take your name out... so, others who are wondering and thinking the same things
(I get emails from them, too) can read this, and know the same things I just wrote to you. I don't dwell or live in the past.... but, to be able to tell my
stories with the truth in them........... I have to 'go into myself' ... to connect long enough to 'be there again'. Sometimes, it takes alittle time to feel better
when I'm back to ....now. But... then... everything is alright... again.

Love, Gloria

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SHAME ON ME!

SHAME ON ME!

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I will not speak to you girls again! Stop playing, and get the dishes washed and put up!

My sister and I were standing at the double sink, one washing dishes and putting clean dishes into the rinse water. I was rinsing the dishes, I was also, slipping dishes back into the soapy water!

My sister and I would giggle, she would tell me not to do that again! I was nine years old, she was two years younger than I. Of course, I wasn't going to quit. My sister was smiling and laughing at 'me'... for the moment she could 'see' me... and for the moment, I had become a person to her. I was going to entertain her for all I was worth.

My step-mother passed through the kitchen, I could feel her staring at me. I knew she didn't want me there, she found reasons to fuss at me. Now, I was giving her reason to fuss.... and I ... didn't care! At this moment, my sister loved me! Her eyes looked at me with happiness, and such laughter! I was fun to play with!

I was slipping a butter knife back into the soapy water, and she found it as she thought she was through washing dishes... 'oh, Gloria Faye, I thought I was through washing dishes!' We began giggling again, I was still giggling as..........................

I was on the floor, my giggles turning into sobs of pain. I was being slapped about my face, my back. My hair was being pulled, I was being jerked around. I could see my stepmother's mouth moving, I couldn't hear her!

Her brown eyes were flashing with anger ..at me! She slapped me until she must have become tired... she left me on the floor and walked away.

I was so ashamed of being beaten by her, I looked up in shame at my sister. No longer was she smiling and laughing at me.. she turned her eyes from me. I was nobody again.. I got into trouble.

I stood up and wiped the tears that were blinding me, and began to walk slowly to the bedroom I shared with my two sisters.

My back hurt from being hit in it, it felt like fists punching me in the back. Feeling the pain and at the same time, seeing Mary Ruth's eyes hating me so much... made me cry again.

It was so much for a little girl to take in. This little nine year old girl didn't know she was on the journey in her life to ... being abused, molested, and.....................and.

I cried, my heart was broken. I wanted my mama so badly. I got up on the bed and hid myself beneath the covers, hoping no one would find me. No one came to look for me.

I just couldn't understand why no one liked me. I had come there only a short time before being beaten by my stepmother.

She didn't seem to like me... though, at times she seemed to like me when I'd become hysterical, crying for my mama. I couldn't stop and would cry myself to sleep. She seemed to care ...then. I would hear her sometimes saying not to mention the word 'mama' to me, she knew I wouldn't stop crying.

This is the beginning of my world changing ... the time I found out that my 'father' wasn't my father, that the man who lived in this house... was my real father.

My real father didn't seem to like me... I remember his face looking at me, he didn't smile at me, nor did he seem to be glad to see me.

No, I don't think he liked me. Later, I would find out several years down the road, that at this particular time I'd done the 'unthinkable'................

I found out as this nine year old child, just meeting her real father... that he'd offered me candy from a little brown bag he had.... I found out that as this nine year old child.... I had asked him for that whole little brown bag of penny candy!

I had done something so awful... my father held this against me through the years when I left his home... until I came back at the age of fourteen.

I'll never forget his face as a fourteen year old girl, as he told me how greedy he thought I was as a nine year child... to want that whole little brown bag of penny candy. I remember standing there in shame and holding my head down to look at the floor. I wasn't any good, here I was as a greedy person... and I didn't remember it. Shame on me.

I lived there for a time and then, at Grandmother Lola's. She lived several blocks away. I never remembered my Grandmother Lola ever doing anything to hurt me in my whole life until I was an older adult, myself.

I've found out since... my Grandmother Lola was influenced to make decisions she would have never made.... she told me these very words .... 'I've made a terrible mistake, Gloria Faye'..... 'I didn't know'.

She also, told me other things that I knew I'd keep to myself. I don't try to hurt other people... though... God knows they've hurt my heart.

The strange thing about this... is how I found out how deceitful and dishonest my father's side of the family was..... betrayal. I grew up letting them make me think .... they were so perfect.

How could I have been so blind? They were no different from the 'family' he made me think were so bad...I smile now, thinking about it. Of course... my smile isn't a real smile.

Such betrayal...... all for thousands of dollars. I smile again... people will do most anything for the amount of money I speak of.

Why I knew a man whose father was murdered for three dollars... that's all he had in his pocket when he was beaten to death with a sock.... filled with sand.

My Grandmother Lola lived to be almost one hundred years old... she lived until she gave out of living... and was found on the floor of her home. My Grandmother Lola had died. It wasn't long before she died ..that she talked to me and told me what she did.

Not only did Grandmother Lola be influenced to hurt me, she was influenced to hurt Tommy, her first great-grandson and great-great granddaughter, McKenzie. She was elderly and I can understand now. I loved my Grandmother Lola. How could she have known? How could she known I was going to live..when my stepmother was telling her all along... I was dying?

I lived with my father for some time, twice in my life. I was always made to feel shame ... for being his daughter. I never remember one time seeing his face proud to have me, his first-born child, his daughter. I was smart, bright, and pretty... it didn't matter.

Looking back now.. I can't see what I could have done to change his mind. I know my stepmother was the reason... I forgave her a long time ago. She just didn't want to see the product of her husband's love for another woman.... I understand that ... now.

Strangely enough, I don't harbor bad feelings toward them, though I will say this to anyone of them... I 'know you'... now. I don't know one of you to be better or more perfect than, my mother's 'family. I think you all have alot in common. I think all of you could have been friends. I was the only thing.... standing in the way.

Shame on me!

PATTERNS... SAME OLD, SAME OLD... IT'S NOT MEANT TO BE

PATTERNS... SAME OLD, SAME OLD

IT'S NOT MEANT TO BE...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

Oh, how special you are, how wonderful you seem! I'm so glad to have found you! Tears in my eyes from the love I feel for you! I'm here for you! What a wonderful 'family' member you ...are. Oh, how I love you! I'm so glad you are 'my family member', you'll always be there for me, me for you!!!'

Patterns of same-old, same-old. I come from a 'family' who when they meet a new family member, one they never knew well at all, or at all... they instantly feel the very things I wrote above. They see in that 'family' member what..... strangers see and appreciate, and like... about that particular 'family' member. The sad thing is.. they can't be friends or communicate after several days... the honeymoon is over.

When one 'family' member meets another 'family' member they instantly like each other as people and want so much to be 'real' friends. They see how other people look at each of us... and they like what they see.... until several days go by.

The 'family' members begin to see themselves in the other... it's like a mirror sometimes. They also, begin to experience something I'll call the 'family curse'... I've really heard it called something else ... but, family curse it is, also.

When we 'see' too deeply ourselves in the other and we 'know' them... it ends any feelings one may have... we 'see and know' each other too well... even if we don't know each other. Strange it is, but, true. We 'know' each other but, we don't at all... how could we... if we've never met.

Truthfully... I'm no exception. I'm old enough to know better but, there's always that hope that one 'family' member can 'get past that invisible wall' that we are all born with... to truly love, care and hold a lasting relationship for a lifetime with. It's not meant to be.

Over the years I've watched relationships bud with 'family' members, myself included. They last no more than several days when.... they drift quickly away like clouds do in the sky, when it's very windy. No one can ever 'connect' permanently.

As quickly as love is felt, suspicions and hate begin to naturally surface. It's there 'before' us... it's like DNA.. we are born with natural hate, anger and suspicion already in us. One can watch our older generation, then... watch their children... then, their children... it is the 'same-old, same-old'.

It never changes, only the faces, the 'family' members. I know because I also, have that natural hate, anger and suspicion in me... I've had to work on it all these years. We can't help it. Thinking about this... I don't think Tommy was like us in that respect... he wasn't ... female.

As quickly as happiness comes at finding someone 'who is a part of you, your blood'..... it goes away. Questions begin to be asked.... what do they want from me? I wonder 'why' they like me? I know they can't like 'me', so, they must want something. Suspicion, and then, imagination begins to work in our minds... hate surfaces. We have imagined, or truly sensed ...deception, dishonesty, betrayal.. feelings such as this in 'the other'.

We naturally begin to hate, and never go any farther in a relationship with 'family' members. All these things that naturally came to our minds.... are now true... because we thought them, didn't we? 'No one in our 'family' can possibly be a good person'... there's no 'can they?'... we know in our minds that.. they can't be.

We each are doomed once our minds begin to think about the happiness of finding a 'family' member who seems to have alot in common with us.... our minds drop an atomic bomb ..right down on that happiness, forever destroying it. There's never a second chance... the opportunity is forever gone. All that's left is scorn, hate, dislike because we didn't like what we saw in the 'mirror'.

Over the years ... I've studied this by watching my grandmother's generation, my mother's generation, my generation, and our children's generation...... there is a pattern, the same-old, same-old.

I can almost time it to the minute, the day of 'how long' a new relationship will continue. I smile every time.... it can't be helped. It's in each of us. Just as the blood that runs in our veins... it's in us.

I'm no exception... though, I'd like to think I was. I carry those same-old, same-old feelings in me every day of my life... but... I am always battling to see the good in everything.

But, like 'family'.... I also, wonder 'why' when a 'family' member reaches out to me... to stay in contact just long enough to find out 'there's nothing in it' for them. Sadly, in my mind... that's what 'family' is... 'what is there in it for me?'

I can't include some family members... they do just like I do... they stay to themselves ... not wanting to get caught up in 'family' drama with other 'family' members.

'Family'...when they decide they don't like the other will surely 'stir something up' with little snide comments, little giggles and their little expressions of .. 'I told them!' The 'family' I come from are natural-born hellraisers.. they love to stir up things and hurt others. They watch soap-operas, too. They live them.

No one ever walks away graciously with a kind word and wish that 'it could have been so'... 'family' wants to hurt and crush another if they don't like them.

They don't know that they are transparent... they do just like the generation before them... one can predict them. They think they are so different... I laugh.. because there's no difference excepting for the people.

Our 'family' has something that one could call a superiority complex... thinking they above everyone else are more intelligent, brighter, sexier, (my 'family' is mostly female.. females hate each other naturally) ...better than anyone else.

Some think everyone has to look up to them because they are the prettiest, cutest, and 'so smart', and of course 'so different'. They fool themselves... why the rest are like them... they just have to have someone to follow, someone to be the 'mouthpiece' for them. I 'see' this on both sides of my 'family'.

They 'gang up' together in groups of 'females' to try to squash their opponent by making fun, saying snide things hoping it'll hurt that person... it makes them angry when they don't affect that person. This is another same-old game... their mothers and grandmothers played before they were born. My mother played them, just as well, so... have I, in the past... many years ago. It's sad, but, it was true at one time.

One can always 'know' when it's happening... I 'see' the games they begin to play. We are all like black widow spiders when we play games... we have to 'kill and destroy' our... prey.

I'm not like a black widow spider.... though, I learned to be as a child... I can be one, only if needed. I don't feel good being 'bad'. I don't feel good about 'family', either. I do 'know them, each of them'...... we all have a bond.. a bond of hate, dislike, and suspicious nature. I could no more be close to anyone of them than, I can fly to the moon. I can only wish good things for each of them... and continue with 'my' life.

I have reached out... and slowly... I un-reach as I take each one back out of my life. I really wished for a 'real' family. I know in my life, there's honestly no such thing.

I can smile.... because I can't possibly miss... what I've never known. But... I did wish... isn't that really so silly... and immature as an older person... to wish for such?

I have two words now.. and as time goes by... to sever ties.... those words are.... 'I'm through'. Never will I ever reach out again... I found out 'why' no one ever spoke.... it dawned on me... I'm no better... I never spoke.... I had nothing to say. Even as good as I try to be.... I'm no better. I have nothing to say.

I think with relief... I'm glad that invisible wall is there... it protects me and even 'family'.... in the way it protects our feelings, our hearts so, that no pain is felt. Thank-God for my invisible wall, never have I been so grateful for it.

BIRDS OF A FEATHER... STICK TOGETHER A BIRD SUCH AS I...

BIRDS OF A FEATHER... STICK TOGETHER

A BIRD SUCH AS I...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was thinking of a saying my Grandma Alma always said about people. I have watched since being a child at her house... people.

I have been a people-watcher and I have studied them, and myself all these years. How interesting we all are!

Have you ever noticed several friends, or several members of a family tend to stick together... they all have things in common. They are all birds of a feather... they stick together!

Myself, I'm very careful who I 'stick' with... in fact, people say I shut people out of my life. In a sense, that's pretty much the truth... though I have lots of 'friends'. Friends of every kind, even though ...we aren't the same kind of bird!

I like birds of all kinds of feathers! I like unusual birds that have lots of color to their personalities.. they have the nerve to stand out in a good way.

I don't like loud or obnoxious people, we'll call them birds here, too. Those kind of birds tear my nerves up... just let me get the heck away from them... they can go stick with those birds that are just like them. I don't have patience for them... though, I do treat them with respect as, I hope they would me.

I like quiet birds who don't try to demand attention with their voices or dress... usually... these are the birds who are very important. They don't feel the need to prove anything.. they don't have to make a big noise to be seen. I always pay attention to these birds... they are my kind of birds!

It's fun to watch the birds of a feather who are constantly trying to stand out, sometimes to the point they make fools of themselves. Sometimes, I feel embarassed watching them... they think because they say or do something cute... they are important.

They are important to the point... that they teach us to not want to be like that. They place value on dressing sexy, and saying cute things, and brag and be very arrogant birds. I used to be a cute, sexy, arrogant bird at one time... but, I grew up. Oh.. this bird knew how to strut her stuff... not many birds hung with me... this bird just knew she was 'the bird'. Bird, Bird, Bird!

I like being my own bird, I'm a different kind of bird. I like birds I see that have my same feathers. One never knows about birds like us... we are quiet, when we say something... people usually listen... we make people curious. They might not even like us... but, they want to hear what we say.

Sometimes birds like us, will say or do things to completely throw off track, others who try to get too close. We can like or love them, but... stay back. Don't get too close, I can't 'see' you. To love you is to love at a distance. To love a bird like me... you have to know me.

I'm one hard bird to love! Birds of my feather are very hard to understand but, in my opinion we are some of the best birds. We are real, maybe more 'real' than others want.

No matter how good, how kind, how real and how caring... birds of my feather aren't always liked best. We are usually too honest for our own good. When one asks a bird like myself something, he is normally going to get a direct answer... there have been times when I've said 'mind your own business'... 'I don't want to talk about it'...'I'm very private'.

I can say that birds of a feather that are my kind of birds... are usually respected because the one thing others can know is that they know these birds can be relied on to keep their word.

Birds that flock together have the same things in common... it's fun to sit back and observe to see 'what that one thing in common'..... is. Sometimes I laugh when I 'see'... it's amazing what makes birds flock together.

Sometimes... I laugh at the birds like myself... laugh at how we've become 'ole' birds, not really 'old' birds. I don't feel old at all, I do see where life whipped me up the worst ever... but, I have decided since last night.... I'm coming out of this path I'm on... I'm going to begin shining again. I love bright, shining, happy and colorful birds. I miss them!

Birds who don't impose on others, and have alot of respect for others, and keep a distance... I pay attention to... they are my kind of birds, too. They never take anything for granted and know that things do happen and change... for a reason. They look for the lesson of life in those things.

Birds like my kind of birds of a feather... don't take from others, they are more comfortable giving. They don't make fun of others, they are forgiving of others' faults... or imperfections. They never try to hurt for the sake of hurting others, nor make fun of and laugh at others. We are good 'ole' birds.

Sometimes... birds like me can laugh and be silly as all get out... we hop up and down on one foot, we raise Cain, we sing and do all kinds of funny things... and we are the best birds you've ever seen.

Birds of a feather stick together... I wonder what kind of bird are you?

TODAY HAS BEEN HAS BEEN...'SHORT'...DAY AT WALMART!

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates... January 21, 2012

Today, Skip and I went to Walmart to pick up a prescription at their pharmacy.  We also, stopped by the McDonalds there to enjoy a double-fish sandwich... we do this in memory of Tommy, who loved double-fish sandwiches from McDonalds.

I love to people-watch... you know how we all love to do... we conveniently forget we are 'people', too.  I noticed alot of things people had in common today.

Today... it seemed to be 'short' day... I noticed people seemed to be short little people, short round people, short-short people!  I've never seen so many short people in one place.  I felt strange.... even though, I'm short as well!!!

I saw short people trying to be tall people.. they had their little tight blue jeans on and boots with six inch heels.  I couldn't believe how many short people had on these boots with six inch heels!

Some wobbled on their heels, some walked smoothly on their heels, and some walked... as if they really hurt!

I had on my tight blue jeans with my.... white shape-up sneakers.  I'm short and .... round at present.  I fit right in... I didn't have to look up to anyone... oh, I forgot... I did look up to one person... that was Skip.  :)))

I love being short... I also, love to be around tall people too.  I wonder 'where' those tall people were today?  Really... how come there weren't any tall people at this Walmart today?

Maybe there was a tall convention going on somewhere and I hadn't heard of it.  Maybe these tall people were just plain out tired and wanted to give 'us short people' a 'short day'. 

Whatever the reason these tall people had... I want you to know that I missed them.... I could see over everyone's head and see 'everything'.  Yes, I missed seeing those tall people.  I love tall people, too. 

I love big tall people, round tall people, tall-tall people!  I missed you today at Walmart!

This is just purely observation on my part today....   :)))

Come out, come out, wherever you are

Tall people, I missed seeing you!  This is from a short person who likes tall people... too!

That's Granny Gee...That's Me!

Note To My Childhood Friend, Nancy... you are short, too!  You'd noticed this, if you'd been there!  :)))  Now... everyone knows you are ...short, too!



AN APOLOGY TO MY READERS....GRANNY GEE

I WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE EMAIL THAT WENT OUT TO NOTIFY YOU OF MY NEW STORY THIS MORNING.... I MADE A BIG MISTAKE AND DIDN'T SEE WHAT I DID UNTIL I PUBLISHED MY STORY ONLINE.  I'M SO SORRY. 

WHAT YOUR BARKING DOG HAS PROTECTED YOU FROM.... HAS BEEN CORRECTED. 
LOVE, GRANNY GEE

WHAT YOUR BARKING DOG HAS PROTECTED YOU FROM

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

Our dogs protect us more than we ever know. We know their different barks for different things.

I hear the sounds of a big truck, then, banging of the trash container next door... our dogs are barking. They have a special bark signaling the trash truck is nearby.

One of our dogs doesn't bark until... he feels he needs to. When 'he' barks.... we go quickly to see what is getting his attention. When our other dog barks... it's already very important. The way his bark changes for different things, we 'know' something is going on outside.

There could be a deer standing just out of sight, or a cat nearby. Our barking dog sees and 'tells' us ... he does this all the time. He will see the little white dog and little brown dog come through our yard... he will bark a special bark meant to let one know 'they' are here. Those little dogs are big buddies, and are brothers. They go to the house nearby to see their other brother, a little black and white dog named Peanuts.

Don't come near our fence... we have signs warning to 'Beware Of Dogs'. One will get bitten if they don't heed the signs. There are very few people who can come into our house.

One night not too long ago, our barking dog began raising Cain... he was going crazy. Skip knew that he was seeing..... somebody. He got up and watched... there was a black car with black windows... driving very slowly in our circular driveway. You can come in one end of the driveway and go out the other end.

Skip watched them drive very slowly until they left. At 3:00 am I woke up to see Skip was already awake and he told me what he saw... I did feel alarmed. Our dog was barking like crazy...again! I'd just seen on the news the night before about home invasions, and on my computer I was reading 'how' they were conducted.

I read that the 'bad' guys would come to a family's front door and ring the doorbell.. or knock. If someone came to answer the door.. that made everything easy for them.... several 'bad' guys would come in overwhelming everyone in the house.

In that first minute or two, after they've come in ... they will commit violence, murder all at once. I was thanking God that our front door is solid... I also, know that I'm not going to the door... and open it. The people we have that come to our home 'know' how to announce their arrival, so, if that doorbell rings........ nobody is home... but, I promise you... someone is ... watching.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. I felt shock course through my body! I looked at Skip in the dim light of the lamp on the dresser. I'm afraid of the dark, so, I keep a lamp on at night.

Ding-dong. I tiptoed down the hall and I neared the front door ... I heard voices. Men's voices. I 'knew' in my mind we were going to go through a home invasion. Afterall, I'd just heard on the news, and read on the computer how the bad guys operate. I was afraid, but, not to the point that I couldn't react.

I went back into the bedroom and Skip was watching our dog out in the chain-link fence. He was going crazy! I made Skip promise not to open that front door... Skip is a hero, he is the stuff all men wish they were made of... he isn't afraid of anything. He will confront danger and take control. Skip promised he wouldn't open that front door... afterall.. that's how home invasions begin!

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Oh God.. there goes that doorbell again! Don't they know we aren't going to... just answer that door!? It's so dark in front of the house and... I never thought to turn on the front porch light! I was thinking about calling the sheriff's department ... ding-dong! That did it! I told Skip that I was calling... NOW!

I dialed 911... and I spoke with the dispatcher telling him I could hear those voices outside of the front door, and that they kept ringing our doorbell! I told him I'm afraid because I've just heard and read about 'how' home invasions were conducted! He asked me was I alone and I told him my husband was here, that I'd made him promise not to open the doors.

The voices got louder! I was more alarmed and told the dispatcher to please, please send someone out quickly, that the men's voices are much louder. I was wondering 'why'?

I walked from the bedroom... I didn't remember going back to the bedroom at all! I walked from the bedroom, back up the hall toward the living room and kitchen, dining room. Oh no, I could hear those voices... they were 'too loud' and sounded almost ... as if they were inside!

I still had the dispatcher on the phone and told him I was going to see, that the voices were louder. As I neared the kitchen, I peeped into the dining room and saw... the back door opened! The loud voices were coming from the gate near the back door!

I told the dispatcher 'oh no, my husband has gone out that door to see what those bad guys wanted'! I ran to the back door ready to help Skip!

He turned to me telling me all was alright! These two men were at the wrong house, the house they were looking for was at least 5 miles away, and they had a circular drive and lived in a brick house, too! They were sneaking around to find a new Rolls Royce they had to repossess, they had a tow truck on the way.

These two men, one white and one black... were standing there beside their black car with hoods on as it was so cold... they looked 'scary' to me! Skip had made them show him their identification! I told the dispatcher that they were standing there and were at the wrong house. He said, a deputy would be there in a moment, anyway... he was already on the way!

About that time... all 'hell' broke loose! From one end of the driveway a deputy car flew into our driveway at the back of that black car! At the other end of the driveway, not one, but... two deputy cars came in rapidly to finish surrounding the black car and two men! Their hands went up into the air immediately!

I heard one say 'what the hell!?' I just stood there observing all the fast action that was taking place before my eyes! Oh my God! Skip has come out here and confronted dangerous men, even making them take their identification out for him to see!

The three deputies jumped out of their cars and walked quickly to the two men, demanding to know what is going on here. The two men explained to them that they were just trying to repossess a new Rolls Royce! They weren't here to do any harm!

The deputies began looking at their identification... all the while I'm standing there... slowly realizing that these two men 'were in fact' what they said they were. I slowly began to 'fade away into the background'.... I was embarassed to have caused such a ruckus! I am not the one who wants to 'call the law' on anyone! I faded right back through that dining room door where no one could see me! Yes, I let my hero, Skip handle the matter! :)))

So... the other night was quite an adventure for me! In my mind, I was facing a home invasion where 'bad' guys wanted in the front door...... it was all real! At the back door, the whole thing played out into... just two guys trying to make a living repossessing cars!

I think now.. that job is very dangerous. The point here is... we never know 'everything' our dogs protect us from. I told Skip this morning that dogs see and hear things we never see or hear. We never know how close danger has come to touch us on the shoulder... but, there are our faithful companions, who are fearless and will go out to confront the most dangerous.... preventing things from happening.

I wonder how many times our dogs have stopped something from happening... we'll never know. I'm thankful for our spoiled, special pups... who can be very ferocious if they think we are threatened... on the other hand....... we'd be just as ferocious in... protecting them! We love those babies!

　

　

WHO IS GOING TO GET MY PHOTOS WHEN I DIE?

WHO IS GOING TO GET MY PHOTOS WHEN I DIE?

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

Oh my God! Who is going to get my pictures! My stomach feels sick as the realization sets in... there's no one to take my photos when I die.

I had to come sit down here at my computer and write this out... I can't just talk about it... verbally. I can only write what I feel at this moment.

I was in the bathroom looking in my mirror. Today... my mirror 'sort of likes me'. I'll explain... I feel alot like my old self today, my eyes have some sparkle in them, my hair 'sort of' looks half-way decent, my clothes look 'happy'.

I know I sound probably 'silly' to you... that's okay. I know what I mean... today, I've been sad off and on, but... I could look in my mirror that has judged me as 'just a mess' for so long... today, I could just 'see me'.... just a little bit... and I smiled back at 'me'!!!

Wow! You can't imagine what a nice feeling that was. I took my camera phone from its case and decided to capture this 'big' moment!

I took several photos when all of a sudden... I thought of Tommy... then, a question popped up in my mind, my stomach felt sick all of a sudden.

Who will get photos of me if I die? Tommy was supposed to get all of my photos. He isn't here to get them anymore, he isn't here to get those things I always meant for him.

I don't have other children.. Tommy was my only child. I have things I always meant for ... Tommy.
His children are kept from me, bonds have been broken. How hurt Tommy would be if he knew. I'm old enough to know life is like that.. and I'm strong enough to go on... it still hurts.

I'm still left sitting here with the question... who is going to get my photos when I die?

Skip will, that's who. I'm missing Tommy very much today... the feeling in my stomach is subsiding just a little now..... isn't it strange how things like that happen?

I hadn't thought of this.. until now.

:))) Everything will be alright... thank-you for listening.