January in the Northeast brings with it some rather uncomfortable rewards. Cold, ice, snow, snow. Snow. As they say, we are in the beginning of a climate change and the wetter air due to warmer global temperature is simply producing those monster storms that were predicted long ago.
And, we have another force to contend with, and that is the media, especially television, who are hungry and pounce upon anything, everything, and pepper it with bad taste. So who knows how this alarmist and hyperbolic reportage is affecting those not present and in the midst, as I am right now as we speak, of a constant stream of snow falling for the past 12 hours or so.
My first call was from biological sister or BioSis2 from warm and humid Georgia. A southern state which borders the wild west, and which sucks in people with its acceptance of gun-toting rednecks who are building forts against the coming Armageddon, while touting their Christian beliefs and lynching everyone else.
My phone calls from sisters began with “Have you seen the weather reports?” Classic panic. Being that they know absolutely that I cannot stand rhetoric in my dealings with them (beginning with Roger Fagan, BioSis1’s ex-husband and horrible niece’s father), this successfully and consistently sets me off. I remain silent for a second too long, then respond with a hopefully tentative, “Yes.” Then BioSis2 lit into me. The gist is – if I were there Mom wouldn’t be alone. Mom is alone. Do you know what’s coming? You should go get her.
So, the opportunity arises between Daddy-like stream of consciousness blathering, to mention that I did not like the way I was being spoken to. More blather. Louder. Escalate. Now I cannot speak at all. My words are literally drowned out by a panic-stricken woman in the throes of an alcoholic-like diatribe about how horrible I am. In a few more seconds, as I knew from prior phone calls when i was “bad,” I heard something about “good-bye” repeated over and over and the famous hangup. Nowadays, though, it is a silent, electronic non-sound that is far less satisfying and mystifying to the recipient.
I had my phone on speaker, though, so I could have my partner witness what I had to put up with. Call to Mom. All ok.
Second call, BioSis1, came the very next morning. Now I was in for it. After asking me if I’d seen the weather reports, BS1 reminded me that Mom was all alone. What was I going to do. I had to drive down there and go get her. Wrest her from her cozy, warm, underground-utility and close-by neighbors for like how long? I didn’t wait as long to remind caller #2 that I did not like her tone and that I would not like to be contacted just to be told how horrible I was.
But what really hurt, what really gets me, is that I know my three BioSis’ are discussing me amongst themselves. And they don’t ever call me up to see how I’m doing. BioSis1 doesn’t even know that her daughter, Susan Fagan the Obese Neice, got her tactics directly from her Mom, BioSis1. That is, she lurks in the background until something is done by someone she doesn’t consider quite right (and just what does not calling your grandfather when he was dying curtail?) – and jumps in with statements like “you all just think of yourselves.” And as careful as I am not to tout my successes or personal information, lest I incur an uninvited jealous reaction, I got that thrown up at me too. “You have electricity with your generator” – why oh why did I mention that to my relatives! When will I learn that I cannot be happy among the clinically depressed. The chronically unemployed. The undiagnosed borderliners.
Or what modern times would call losers?
So I hooked on saying “So now you’re calling me selfish!” and that went on for a few seconds, until the screaming went so far that I couldn’t hear myself think. I did volley off that my BioSis’ were acting like Daddy, when he would resort to shouting at me until I gave up any discussion(?) if you could call it that.
Oh, to have some family that I imagine was helpful. Oh, to have some compassion from my biological partners. We share genes, but certainly not emotional stability.
Today and tomorrow, one day at a time.
But, at least I can rest easy knowing I’m seeing the light, the bright white light, of tomorrow. I just hope someday I can say the same about the aforementioned.