June 2009


Alright, it’s no secret.  Momma likes to drink.  And more than once this has slid over into being a excessive.  However, contrary to what some might think, we’re always in good hands.

Generally, me and my little Nightengale, we go out with my dad.  Sounds funny sure, but since the original Momma Bear passed on, we’ve been his best bar buddies.  We always have a driver, and we’re always in the same safe place.

A few weeks back, dad was off fishing so it was just us girls.  We decided to be brave and go down to the watering hole by ourselves.  Should’ve known it’d be a disaster.

Little Red Head Susie was already in a fistfight or trying to be.  Her and her on again/off again boyfriend were tussling as Susie tried to get to the chubby blonde over on the other side of the room.  The blonde’s male companion was either Susie’s ex boyfriend or a friend’s ex… I’m not real sure.

I grabbed on to Susie, who for all intents and purposes, might as well be called my Aunt.  Tried to get everyone to just get over it, have a drink, move on.

This left me spending the next few hours babysitting a fired up and more than drunk Susie, until (name witheld) “Mother F*cking” (Name witheld) -no really, that’s how he introduces himself- took over Susie duty.  For a while this worked then some how one of them got started again.

Finally, I was standing down by the bar and this blonde comes charging at me.  I might have outweighed her, hard to say, but I threw her back the first time, she said she wasn’t trying for me, I pointed out my chunky ass was in the way and the response was “Yeah your chunky ass”…the second time she got inside my guard and I managed to hold her back before the spastic little red head managed to grab her by the hair and drag her back and then others stepped in and calmed everything down….

What the bloody hell?!?!?

I can scrap, don’t misunderstand that I’m even complaining about that.  But it wasn’t my fight, I’m not even sure anyone could have said WHY the fight started.  And let’s point out, she came at me, not the other way around.  I hadn’t talked to her all night except a few ‘Come on ladies, drop it” type thing. 

 

I’ve occassionally been drunk enough to want to take someone on, but I’m not very often an angry drinker, both of the times my Nightengale was there and she confirms that while I did get belligerent, I was also severely goaded into getting angry.  But not blind drunk stupid to the point that I attack a person I don’t even know, like a charging bull. 

But ironically…it comes down to blood.  That bar runs in my veins, and to date all of us kids, including our parents, we’ve all been involved in altercations there.  And so far, each time, we weren’t the original combatants!

Dad’s protected more than one person, including the bartender from serious harm by drunk gang-ups.

Brothers have randomly been involved in verbal and sometimes physical confrontations that involve people pushing up on weaker people and causing trouble.

And up until that night I could say I’d never been in a physical confrontation in that bar.

The truth of the matter is however,…I held back.  I avoided actually hitting this woman.  Pushed her back, yes, held her back, indeed.  But I conciously avoided hitting her.  Why?

Because I knew her, though she didn’t know me.  I knew her from some years ago, I knew her daughter, went to school with her, and she was older than me. You could classify her as ‘Mom’ age for me.  I might not have been raised perfectly right, all the manners and good breeding…but I couldn’t do it.  Maybe if she’d come at me again…that would have been fair provocation.  But initially,…I just couldn’t.

Later that night someone gave me kudo’s for that, someone who’s opinion in that type of situation really meant something….

I’m not sure I did the right thing however…Shoulda knocked her head off!

Recently, the youngest of our little band of cubs aquired a girlfriend.  This happened to be the cousin of his best friends ex girlfriend.  Dontcha love highschool?

First warning sign:  He can’t call her, she has to call him because she can’t tell her dad about them.

Excuse me?  This guy, we’ll call him Doc, he’s a pretty good kid.  And her parents know she’s had a boyfriend in the past.  So what did our little lolita do to bring down the wrath of dad so that she has to hide her new, well within acceptable dating range, and certainly better behaved than most boys his age, boyfriend?

No clue.  This rough little one-sided relationship goes on for a few months and then…. Dum Dum Dum

She dumps him.

Now I’ve watched a few of my cubs go through break-ups,  I’ve watched them mope, whine, piss and moan.  We’ve even done our share of mopping up tears.  We love our kids but sometimes our boys make the same bad choices over and over again.

Through the magic that is Facebook, I got my youngest one to talking, he tells me what the girl did, what she said, her supposed reasoning.  And then, to my amazement, he takes the long view.

Sure, he says a few uncomplimentary things, blames himself a bit.  Listens when Momma Bear snipes on the girl a bit, looking to make him smile.

And then he tells me about his master stroke:

Him:  So was this entire thing just a waste of time for you?

Her: Uhm yeah….

Him:  Well then, you just totally missed the point.

}End Scene{

Coming from him, this was a brilliant retort, because of his intelligence I know how much venom was injected in that single statement.

Of course I imagine she didn’t understand the deadly insult.  I went on to point out that at this age, adolescent girls are inanely stupid and cruel, they’ll grind a guy under their heel without a backward glance.

 

Our final major marker of the night was us talking about his moving on, and that someday, there really will be somewhere out there for him.

The kind of girl you need is like finding a wheatpenny, in a fountain with a sign on it for donations, next to the only cold soda cart in an amusement park.  Takes time.

 

Poppa Bear was 23 before he really dated.  Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. 

 

He’s not ‘boyfriendly enough’.  Alright, so he doesn’t

I could have chosen the news to pick from today.  I could have spoken of many things.

I chose family.

Momma comes from a rather fractured background.  I won’t call it unique.  My mom met my dad when she was barely 17, gave birth to me halfway through 18 and married my dad several months later, stoned and barefoot and laughing fit to bust or so the stories go.

The preacher told them it’d never last.

27 years later, till death do us part was proven true.  As was in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, and to have and to hold.

Neither of my parents are religious, my mother was an adamant atheist.  They maintained one truth between each other and that was love.  I won’t say honesty, there are lies, fibs, half truths everywhere, even you can’t say you are totally honest with yourself.

It’s an odd but proven quirk that in our family, the male bloodline is hardworking, and hard hitting.  This is not to say they are all abusive because that’s far from the truth.  But it does give a sense of the very ‘good ol boy’ mentality.  Nearly all of the men in my bloodline are to some extent are addiction ridden.  The exceptions come almost to a man, due to  the women in their lives who pluck them up and say no more.  I love you, but no more.

Sometimes it takes a few trials by fire to get there but they do get there.

My dad and mom never quite attained the same prosperity exactly,…two of the boys went on not only to successful careers, but lives with generally comfortable amenities, yet they too have had their crosses to bear.

Recently, the bearcave that we aquired a few years ago has come in dire need of some repairs, major repairs.

Home owners insurance of course is a rip-off we are are legally bound to maintain and when the time came due, it didn’t give us a lot to work with.  So we made the best of it by using a company that made us feel like we were pulling teeth to get things accomplished.

Still, more work was required but the coin was not there to do it.  Finally, one of my uncles, and how they got on to this conversation I have no idea, had my dad bring him up and within 15 minutes he had quoted me a price, well below the ‘professionals’ and two days later, he arrived, complete with tools.

 

IN THE POURING RAIN!

I stopped him before he could do more than unload and said how about another day.

You see lovelies, despite the bad blood, despite the possible disasters…this man came through for one of his own.

More than I can say for people in general.