Most of my life I have had people tell me how talented, how gifted, how good looking, how intelligent, how loving, or simply how good I was. My step father being the exception, of course, spent about nine years tearing me down. Funny... actually, not so funny, when it is all said and done, it is his words that ring in my head the most, telling me what a worthless piece of shit I am. Only problem is that some years ago I realized that it was not his voice I heard anymore, but my own voice instead. Stuff like that has a tendency to stick with a person whether or not they want it to. All the praise I heard my whole life was negated by the words of one angry and bitter old man. Much of my adult life has been spent on the path towards the same sort of anger and bitterness he showed toward me. Thankfully, I had a wake-up call, and chose another path.
I wrote a blog earlier that I wanted to share with my sister, but when she became available, I was on my way out the door. So I sent her the link to my blog here. Apparently she read the whole thing in my absence. It must have moved her, because this is what she wrote to me in Yahoo Messenger.
"I read the entire blog, watched the video,the poem,and you know that I have always loved your photography and your poetry so this will not be news to you, and I still do love it. Having said that I want you to realize how talented you are, ok? This one time in your life pay attention to what I am saying to you Jeffery!!!"
She continues, "Just this once try your best to understand what I am saying to you , Please? You are a good man, that good man has been inside you for your whole life,struggling to get out. I, for one, am glad that he has finally fought his way out. You have made it very difficult, but the nice Jeffery , not many people have not been allowed to see has finally made himself known . Please give him some room to live, I like him a lot and others will too!!! That man that BobbiJo figured out some 25 years ago is really a very nice man and we both care deeply for him."
I guess you would have to know us, bad luck for you, to understand the dynamics of hers and my relationship. Since I was a little boy, she has been there, usually throwing shit at me. She has a tremendous heart, and a giving nature. But, like many people, she has been hurt too, a lot, and not too many people get in far enough to see past the pseudo-Donna who can be (when the notion hits her) a bit of a ... ahem... dare I say, "Bitch"? (I can hear her already saying, "You say that like it's a bad thing!") The Pseudo-Donna is tough, mean, and ain't gonna take no shit from anyone. The Pseudo-Donna has been hurt, has had enough speed bumps in her life to make the ride memorable. The Pseudo-Donna is apt to put on a leather jacket, stiletto heels (to make her look 6'-5") and grab a bat and a gun if necessary on her way out the door to put out yet another fire somewhere, or to kick some serious butt. (I pity the fool.) The Pseudo Donna is only one aspect of the woman I call sister. The other aspect is a pain in the butt too. LOL I know she will read this, so that last was just me baiting her. I thrive on giving her a ration of crap. I have been doing it for years, and see no reason to stop. I have toned it down a little, but not much.
Now, the real Donna, Momma Donna to most of the graduating classes of 2000 and 2001, is still a little rough around the edges. Life was not easy for her, and her parents were not always there for her, in fact rarely were they. As a result, she put out a tremendous effort to be sure the kid had absolutely no doubt that she would do anything for her... ANYTHING. The kid was number one in Donna's life. (Still is, in fact, or perhaps a close second behind the new grandbaby!) The real Donna will make sure you have a full belly. She will make sure you are warm and dry. The Real Donna, only known to a very select few, wears her heart on her sleeve. She will give you shit, and/or throw things at you if she feels you deserve it. But, like so many kids before me, and countless after, the real Donna was always there for you. This is part of why my mother adopted Donna as her own. as far as Mom was concerned, Donna was her daughter. Over time, it was so much easier to give up on the explanation. She is, as far as I am concerned, or anyone else is concerned, my sister. Most people now aren't aware of the truth of the matter. We are not blood relatives. In this case that is good, because with few exceptions, neither one of us care for our blood relatives. But... fortunately for me, family is not defined by how many common genes are shared. Family is defined by the heart.
I really should make it a point someday to thank her for being one of the few constants in my life, for being there to bounce ideas off of, to get advice from, or to just be the target of my abuse. I cannot think of many brothers and sisters who are any closer than Donna and I, and it means a lot to hear her praise me so highly, because, like most family, she has seen me at both my best and my worst, but loves me anyway.
