All posts by Teri

The Tale as Old as Time

Me Too

I had a boatload of to-do items on my list for this past Monday, March 20:

Email an assignment to my ColdFusion tech guy, finish decoupaging an old end table, add an article on my website Worldpress.org, post another chapter of My Stolen Diaries on my blog, The Teri Tome, write an inscription in a Maya Angelou book I was mailing to my friend Kathy, swing by the post office to drop off two packages before getting a mammogram/sonogram, and then dinner at 7:15 with a friend.

Whew. It was going to be a busy day.

But then, at 3:30 am, I woke up drenched in dread and sweat after interrupting an awful dream — about him. As I tossed and turned, unable to will myself back to sleep, I asked my dead grandmother to send me a sign to help me get through the day.

I was sleepless in New York, so I went down to my desk, wrote the inscription below, and taped it into the front pages of Maya Angelou’s poetry book titled Phenomenal Woman:

For Kathy,

I’d like to think that, like Maya Angelou,
sharing some, but not yet all, of my truth
has helped me to rise above insecurity,
abandonment, guilt, abuse, regret, shame,
remorse, sadness, depression, and who
knows what else. And yet I have somehow
managed to rise.

I have often described myself as a bird with
a broken wing — maybe two. A fragile bird
afraid to sing and unable to fly.

Not because of my impoverished, chaotic
upbringing. But because my metaphorical
cage was and still is, my inability to say his
name — not through song but through words.

I still carry deep remorse for many things
that happened or didn’t happen in my past.
Even the tiniest regret leaves me wondering
how I missed the things worth stopping for.

Like you, Kathy. How sad we didn’t get to
know each other very well at Brevard. I
am convinced that we would have been
great friends.

But I have learned through my sometimes
painful, often weary, yet wondrous seventy
years that it is never too late to surround
myself with brave, phenomenal women.

A phenomenal woman, that’s you.
~Teri 3/20/23

By the time I finished writing, taping, and packaging, it was time for a shower, followed by a strong cup of coffee and the New York Times. To say I was emotionally spent would be putting it mildly.

But then there it was. The sign.

In the New York Times, there was an article about filmmaker Jennifer Fox (my grandmother’s last name), who, after a half-century of refusing to name her sexual abuser, had finally come forward with his name almost two years after his death. She identified him as Ted Nash, a two-time Olympic medalist in rowing — a legend in his sport.

In 2018, Fox wrote and directed The Tale, an acclaimed American drama about her pieced-together memories of sexual abuse when she was 13, at the hands of an older man, but she never revealed his identity.

Fox recently told the New York Times that she finally said his name because she wanted abusers to know that even death wouldn’t spare them from being found out.

The last paragraph in the article was a quote from Fox, and it gave me the chill bumps:

“The adult part of me wants to move on, but that child in me, she wants to face him and get it over with and name him. There was a part of me saying, I will not let you rest until you name him.”

My Mammy

Family & Relationships


Today marks forty years since I lost my precious grandmother.

My grandma, who I called Mammy (pronounced May-Me), was my everything.

My mom had me at a very young age, so she had difficulty caring for me. Thank goodness for my grandmother, who so lovingly stepped in and took over for her.

As I got older, I understood the importance of Mammy and was very thankful that she raised me to be a strong, courageous, independent young lady.

She also taught me how to cook, clean, and bake. But most of all, she taught me how to be a loving mother and grandmother.

Everything I am is because of Mammy. And even though she was everything my mom couldn’t be, that was okay for me. Because I knew that my mom was doing her best, and as long as I had Mammy, I felt safe.

The only downside to being raised by my grandmother was that I never knew what it was like to have a traditional “mom.”

My grandma raised me as best she could, although there were always unsaid boundaries because she didn’t want to hurt my mother’s feelings or cut her out as a mom.

There were many occasions when I was told to lie and tell people that Mammy was my mother so as not to be poorly judged.

And then there were many times I freely lied — and answered “yes” when asked if Mammy was my mother. I learned early on that people could be cruel and unfairly judgmental regarding my untraditional family.

Of course, I always knew who my mother was, but with each leaving space for the other to step in, Mammy and my mom unintentionally left a lot of the parenting void up to me to fill in and figure out on my own.

And being from a “broken home” was a permanent stain, and as they say in Catholic speak, my cross to bear.

Let’s just say that I didn’t garner any trust points with the moms and dads of my friends, as they were wary of me and my unorthodox family unit.

For as long as I can remember, I have been a creative writer, voracious reader, and deep thinker.

One of my most treasured books was my children’s dictionary. I can still see its bright yellow cover — the title displayed in a rainbow of primary-colored letters. I poured through the pages of my dictionary while most other kids were reading about magical and imaginary beings and lands.

There are so many words that I can still recall being used to describe me and my female dynasty as a kid.

If nothing else, I was a curious, practical child, so for every word spoken that I didn’t understand, I would look up. Here are a few I can still recall coming up a lot back then.

Broken. The meaning of “broken” is having been fractured or damaged and no longer in one piece or in working order. That’s not how I remember my “family” of women: My mom, grandmother, and great-grandmother were my pillars. Another word that I learned very young in life.

Pillars. A tall vertical structure of stone, wood, or metal used to support a building or as an ornament or monument. Or, in my case, they were flesh and bone pillars used to support and lift me up.

Awkward. Causing difficulty, embarrassment, or inconvenience. There was nothing awkward or embarrassing about me or the three women in my life, although sadly, my mother often considered me so. I sometimes wonder what she thinks of me now or if she thinks about me at all. I wish I could call and ask her, but that ship sailed a long time ago.

Even though Mammy has been gone for 40 years today, her memory still brings tears to my eyes, and I think about her every single day.

Rest in peace, Mammy. I miss you terribly, and I sure hope we meet again.

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 17: Somebody Has to Go

Teri's Novelog — My Stolen Diaries, , , ,

 

CHAPTER 17

SOMEBODY HAS TO GO

November 1964

Adam is getting sicker and weaker by the day, and Mem spends all her free time caring for him. Mem says Adam is on his last legs, which I think is a weird thing to say because poor Adam had both his legs amputated a while back. He’s been so ill that Mem doesn’t want me there much anymore, so I’m back to my routine of going to Steve’s Market with Rib every day after school.

Steve refuses to let up on Adam, and it has caused a lot of trouble with Mem. I keep reminding Steve that Adam is almost dead and beg him not to mess things up. I warned Steve that giving Mem a hard time over a dying man was not the best way to win her over. But Steve won’t shut up about Adam and keeps accusing Mem of being ungrateful and selfish.

I sometimes wonder if Adam is also trying to cause trouble. Since I’ve been spending more time with Steve, Adam has been asking Mem to see me on a more regular basis.

Adam has a fancy baby grand piano, and he recently told Mem that he wanted to pay someone to come over to his house and teach me how to play. I think that’s Adam’s way of getting closer to Mem.

Adam also has a fancy car that he told Mem she could borrow anytime. Mem studied hard and got her driver’s license, so now we don’t have to walk or take the bus everywhere we need to go.

Two weekends ago, Mem and I stayed overnight at Adam’s house, which according to Mem, made Steve mad as a hornet. Adam hired a piano teacher, as he promised, and I spent the entire weekend learning how to play Minuet in G Major by Bach.

Mem was in the bath when Steve stopped by our apartment that Sunday night with some porterhouse steaks. He demanded to know whose car was in front of the apartment. I told him it was Adam’s car and warned Steve to keep his anger about Adam to himself or else.

“Or else what?” he asked me. I ran my right hand across my throat, which I hoped he took as a sign to stop his nonsense. Doesn’t Steve see he’s pushing Mem away? I asked him how he could be jealous of a man with no legs, who’s on his last legs, but he just shrugged.

The more Steve gives Mem a hard time, the more time Mem spends with Adam, which is fine with me because I’ve been learning piano, and according to my piano teacher, I’m a natural!

Last night Steve told Mem he thought she cared more about Adam than she cared about him. Then Steve said to her that “Somebody has to go.” Mem answered that she wanted to take a break from their relationship and that the somebody that had to go was him. Steve can’t say I didn’t warn him.

And according to Mom, not only will we have to go grocery shopping somewhere else, but without Steve, we won’t be eating steak any time soon.

Click here for Chapter 18: The Secret Is Out

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 16: In Over My Head

Teri's Novelog — My Stolen Diaries, , , , ,

CHAPTER 16

IN OVER MY HEAD

August 1964

We went to Caribou, Maine, two weeks ago, for our annual St. Germaine family reunion. Mom is mostly dating Roberto, but she still goes out with Nick from time to time. Since Nick is Mom’s backup boyfriend, I was shocked when she told me Nick was driving us to Maine.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been that surprised because I’m not sure how we would have gotten to Caribou since we still don’t have a car, and Roberto still doesn’t know I exist.

I think Nick must really love Mom because even though she told him that she loves someone else, he hasn’t given up on her.

When we got to Caribou, Mom showed Nick around, although there wasn’t much to see except a bunch of potato farms and the Aroostook River.

Then we drove from Caribou to Eagle Lake for the family reunion. I helped Mem, and her sisters set up the picnic tables for lunch until a bunch of the kids decided to swim out to the floating lake dock. I didn’t know how to swim, but I really wanted to go with them, so I grabbed a swim tube and paddled out anyway.

The kids were diving off the dock, which roughed up the water, and I somehow slipped through the tube. As I sunk under the water, I panicked but luckily bobbed back up to the surface. But my tube floated away, and the water sloshing into my mouth made it impossible to yell for help.

I struggled to stay above the water, but I sank anyway. As I slowly dropped under, I could see the sun’s brightness above me. I thought I was a goner until a shadow blocked the sunlight, and someone grabbed me by the arm.

It was Nick! He was shaking, maybe even more than me, but he was a strong swimmer and dragged me to the sandy shore where Mom and Mem were crying hysterically. Mom was hugging and crushing me. I shoved her off of me so I could throw up. Mem was screaming at Mom that she should never have taken her eyes off me.

“Are you ever going to take responsibility for Tony?” Mem asked Mom. Nick tried to calm Mem down by saying he was watching me the whole time, but Mem told him while looking in Mom’s direction, “that’s what a mother is supposed to do.” Mere Germaine nodded in agreement which was a shock because she usually takes Mom’s side on everything.

Even though I was throwing up, I made sure not to miss a single word of what was being said. Mem made me promise never to go into the water again, which is more than okay with me because the only water I plan on ever getting into is in the bathtub.

The next day, Mem refused to speak to Mom even though Nick tried his best to calm down the situation. But Mem wasn’t calming down. She wouldn’t let me out of her sight and kept repeating that it was high time Mom woke up to the fact that she was someone’s mother, and again, Mere Germaine agreed.

With Mem and Mere Germaine giving Mom a hard time, she insisted we cut the trip short, so we left Caribou two days early. As usual, what Natalie wants, Natalie gets.

When Nick dropped us off, he lifted me out of his car and hugged me. When I thanked him for saving my life, Nick took my face into his hands, kissed the top of my head, and said, “You know I love you, Kiddo.” That was the first time a man ever said he loved me. “I love you too, Nick,” I said back, which was the first time I had ever said that to a man.

I wasn’t happy that I almost drowned, but it was worth it to have Nick say he loved me and to say I loved him back. Now all I have to do is get Mom to love him too.

Click here for Chapter 17: Somebody Has to Go