Masterpiece in Progress by Smith, TL (beginner reading books for adults .TXT) 📗

All while mom spent a lot more time at the Moose Lodge, leaving me home with grandpa.  At least I had my music.  Styx was my jam then.  Paradise Theatre.  And I knew the neighbors from time spent at grandpas for holidays and such.  I babysat for them occasionally.

Mom must’ve had some sense of my unhappiness. Not because I talked to her about it, I wasn’t about to add more to her load than she already had on her shoulders.

She thought getting me a vocal coach would help.  Ummm…. NO.  I hated it.  I just wanted to sing songs, not scales.

But she got me auditions for numerous showcases, auditions, and got me a showcase spot singing for Ronnie Milsap, so I guess it wasn’t a complete bust, but it sure felt like it to me.  Even the music wasn’t soothing me.  THAT was NOT normal.

I started listening to music totally out of character for me, like Rush, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC.  Even though they were popular, they were never really my favorite genre.  But the music was heavy, angry almost and it made me feel like the music was conveying what I was feeling inside.

She had a few boyfriends, (from the Moose Lodge) and we moved in with one not far from grandpa’s house.  He was a drunk and blacked out one day at our house, knocking the bathroom sink clean off the wall.  I had never seen anyone drunk like that, so I had no idea what was going on.  It scared me.

We had an inground swimming pool at that house which I liked because the other neighborhood kids would come over with their folks (they were Moose Lodge people too) and I kind of felt "accepted".  My niece Shelley stayed with us often at that house and that helped me a lot.  At least I had someone to commiserate with.  But she had her own stuff going on and her own stuff she was dealing with, just like me.

What did I do?

I rebelled, tried marijuana for the first time, (not my thing AT ALL), hopped a bus and went back to my home (in Orange) with some girls from across the street. The drunk boyfriend had to pick us up from the bus stop at Disneyland because we didn't have enough money to get all the way home. THAT should have been a wakeup call of my unhappiness and that I needed help, but it wasn't. And honestly, I didn't know how to communicate what was going on in my head.

We moved back to grandpa's after that.  I did meet some great people there that I still call friends to this day and we all had some really fun times together, but I was really unhappy inside.  Esta, (Baelie), Paul, Brenda, and Mike were the only people I really liked from the new school.

One of our more fun adventures during that time was stealing a fire hydrant.  Yep, you read that right.  Do you have ANY idea how heavy those things are?

My mom loved plants and one day had mentioned that a fire hydrant would make a great planter.  So we got her one.  We had no idea how much trouble we could get into for taking it though.  I’m pretty sure she made us return it.

We spent time at the beach, hanging out, singing.  But that didn’t change how I was feeling emotionally.  I felt so alone and unheard.   Abandoned.  By my dad, my mom, even my old friends didn’t call much after I moved.

That summer my sister Dottie came to visit.  I was SO excited to see her.  She and her husband and kids had moved to Arkansas and I got to spend the summer with them.

For the FIRST time in my whole life, I felt free. I felt included. I felt safe. I felt loved.  I felt heard.  And I loved it there. Her kids were like siblings to me and we did “family” things.  We ate together, we went to family skate night, to swimming holes, and the park. It was everything I didn’t have at home in California and everything I needed so desperately.

I met a guy named Wesley that summer (we are still friends to this day).  Wesley had a guitar when I met him, and I told him I sang, and he started picking a song.  Roseanne Cash, “Seven Year Ache”.  I was mesmerized by how well he played for a younger person. (He wasn’t much older than me).  All the accomplished artists I knew were MUCH older.  I was eating it up, basking in the feeling of acceptance, and his appreciation of my voice.

Music is like a drug to me, and I wanted more.  I felt alive when I was singing.  And here was this talented, older teenager from Arkansas, telling me I had a great voice, and that I should keep singing.  I hung on his every word because he was doing everything I wanted to.  Playing music every chance, he got.  What he doesn’t know, even though we are still friends, is that his approval of what I could do, meant EVERYTHING to me.  And some, not all, of my decision I was about to make was a direct result of that.

When I returned to California, I told my mom if she didn't let me go live with my sister in Arkansas, I would quit school and I meant EVERY SINGLE WORD.  I was NOT going back to Santa Fe Springs High School EVER AGAIN.

What choice did she have? I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this was for her as a mother myself, but she let me go and Van Buren, Arkansas became my home.  (It’s still where I call home.)  I don’t even remember asking my sister if I could come live with her before I issued my mom that ultimatum.  But