Wobbling!

Please watch the short clip above first.......

okay.....

So the man starts with some hesitation but goes ahead......

a smile on his face....

then the skateboard speeds up and things get wobbly....

the smile turns to Holy S*%#!....

and then it turns to chaos, fear, and wanting to find a way out....

then he finds himself in  the weeds, trying to figure out what just happened.....


This is a dramatic interpretation of my life the last few weeks.

I have begun nursing school, and I feel like this man....out of control and just trying to hang on.....hoping I don't end up in the weeds, trying to figure out what just happened.


Stress has over taken my life at the moment. I am working....hubby has a fractured tibia and is on crutches, so he is limited in what he can help with.....taking care of the home....attending to all the children's needs....

and in the middle of all this ...19 days of school.....has brought me.... assignments, papers, tests, quizzes, interviews, labs, orientations....that far exceed the number 19........

In 19 days I have probably done as much as I do in half a semester in most classes....

My sleep is short......my eyes are heavy...my blood pressure is high (I made a Dr's appt Monday to get that under control before I stroke out).........Anxiety is creeping in........

If my head was not attached I would probably lose it...........

So we have 20 other students in this program...

and guess what?

They feel just like me, they are following behind me, in front of me...wobbling their way down this course...just hanging on for dear life, just like me!

I thought it was me just overreacting, but this course seems to attract a certain kind of a person. The kind of person that looks at an obstacle and because of their over achieving, stubborn, neurotic, controlling, OCD personality..... they think, "Sure, I can do this!"

Then this personality starts down the hill.. and things start slipping out of their control. They start wobbling, their straight A's become B's, they can't figure out how to put on a sterile glove properly, then they figure if they can't get on sterile gloves properly how in the hell are they ever going to insert an NG tube or begin an IV......wobbling, wobbling, wobbling.......

Here we are nursing students...bound together in some strange way.....

All of us just trying to hang on, and not end up in the weeds.

" I am pretty sure you deserved that beating!"

I am not old per say...I am officially middle age now....I remember my parents at the age I am now.....maybe I am old?

When I hear people say they were born in the 80's... or....the dreaded 90's....seriously there is nothing worse than sitting in one of my classes at school and hearing the birthdate of a fellow student is the year I graduated high school....damn whipper snappers and their youthful glow!

So my generations parents still believed in the corporal punishment..meaning...getting your butt whipped for wrong doings. There was no such thing as time out, or meaningful psychiatric sessions on why you decided to shave the dog with your mothers razor....you were not allowed to defend yourself....you were guilty before proven innocent.

And normally most people around my relative age or older have that story....you know that....

 "STORY"

That "Story" you pull out during the holidays in the presence of your parents about that unjustified beating you received as a child. You share the ghastly experience with much flair, oomph, and pizazz, about the injustice of pain that was brought down upon you, and how you will never forget it.

and normally your parents reaction is a blank stare followed up by the statement ....

"I am sure you deserved the beating!"

...and then they share several other examples of beatings that may have been justified...like painting your bedroom wall with Vaseline or shutting the family dogs tail in the door....

..and there you are left with no justice or apology..just various examples of wrong doings of your childhood....so you tuck it away in your back pocket to bring up at the next family celebration in hopes your parents will see the wrongs of their way.

My father shared his "STORY" while at a family reunion... and I even took a picture of the scene of the punishment or crime against humanity ....whatever you want to call it....

Lets face it, everyone has that "STORY", and we all understand and listen to these "STORIES" because we all have one and feel their injustice.

My father was playing in this area with his cousin. There was an old abandoned car that was his grandfathers that sat here, and the kids would play in the car. You can't see in the photo but there is a creek that runs through town, and it is a steep V shape,the walls are concrete with jagged rocks all along it. Well my dads mom brought my dads younger brother, and their other cousin outside, and asked my dad to watch after them. My dad states, that his mother looked at Miles (my dads brother) and Brenda ( my dads cousin) before going back inside and told them to stay away from the creek. About this time his other cousin (Cheryl) is having a hard time opening the car door on the abandoned car so my dad begins to help her, and he is just tall enough to see over the hood of the car, to see Brenda take Miles hand go to the edge of creek and fall down the steep concrete walls down to the creek and out of sight of my dad. Brenda did not let go, she took Miles with her. Miles was young, maybe 4 at most. Dad goes to the creek and Brenda is a little scrapped up, but just wet, but his baby brother was tumbling down the creek with reckless abandon. Luckily Mile's caught the edge of a rock further down the creek and washed up the side of the concrete walls. He had blood pouring from his head and face, he was beat up.

My dad gets him, and walks him back to the house. By this time his mom was outside, and here comes dad with his bloody baby brother in tow. Which by the way, Miles still has a scar on his chin from this incident.

Now here is where the "STORY" part is. It was technically Brenda's fault..but here is the problem, Brenda is mentally handicapped...so not really accountable...so who is accountable...the one left in charge even though he could have done nothing to prevent it. Brenda was patted on the head and asked if she was okay and then my dads mother picked him up, and as he says, "gave him the beating of his life!" ...and then his aunt (Brenda's mother) comes outside and pats Brenda on the head and then proceeds to pick up my dad and beat him also. So not just one beating, but two were given that day, even though it was Brenda's fault.

If my grandmother and great aunt were still alive I am sure their response would be.......

"I am sure he deserved the beating!"

So this takes place in 1950's now lets fast forward to about 1980 or so....and let me share my "STORY".

I know my mom thinks I am going to share the "Christmas/Ungrateful Brat" incident....

That "STORY" is debatable..I got my butt beat...it was more my sisters fault that things escalated.... but she was past the butt beating age... so I was the one that got the wrath of a haggard, tired mother on Christmas day.....It is a "STORY" but there is some reasonable doubt involved in that "STORY".....because I may, or may not have, kicked my sister in the shin at some point in that "STORY".....

Anyways I have a "STORY" where there is no reasonable doubt....I was beat, punished,....and...dare I say tortured.....

That is right...my parents probably have the quizzical look on their face right now...this was moms doing...so dad your off the hook.

Children of the 80's remember the beloved Hot Cycle?

Mine was that girl one.....with the blue and pink.....I loved that thing!!

So I had just gotten that beloved cycle, and me and the neighbor girl were playing together. We were taking turns on the bike and then this neighbor girl decided to no longer share MY bike...she would not give it back...so we began to argue back and forth. My mom must have heard us arguing, she came outside, grabbed me, and beat my butt in front of this neighbor girl, and then told me to go inside. Mom let this girl ride my Hot Cycle the rest of the day. I was sharing...the neighbor girl was not sharing.......and she was rewarded... and I was beat.

My mother does not have a response for this story, she decided to go with,

 "I don't remember doing that, that never happened!"......

The ol' I don't remember angle..uh huh....

It is my "STORY" and I remember it like it was yesterday.


I bring all this up because in one of the twins classes they exchange a journal back and forth with their teacher. One of the questions the teacher asked was, "What has been the worst day your life"..... The response of the twin was...

... the day she was sent to her room... not once,......not twice...but three times for various things that were not her fault!

So I am prepared and I am armed for the day when we are sitting around ...when they are adults with their own children...and she brings up this day of infamy in her head...

...the day injustice was done to her......and shares her "STORY" with me....

and I can say.......

"I am pretty sure you deserved it!"

Let Me Tell You A Little Bit About A Man I Have Never Met.

Do you have those months that seem to go by like a blur? This last month was crazy busy...between work, the girls and I going back to school, and all the other daily life tasks that need to be done. I am not ready to discuss the minor anxiety attacks I already have had over school. I just keep trying telling myself to take a deep breath and relax ....but some days my body and head are not working together in a calm organized fashion.

Anyways I had a weekend trip to look forward to ...take my mind off of conversions and ratio exams for pharmacology. I had planned a trip to my dads childhood home. My dad did not live there his whole childhood but it is the place he calls home. I have not lived in Idaho since seventh grade and yet I always call Idaho home..so... Creede, Colorado is his home.

 

 

The reason for going was a family reunion. The Miles/Fairchild reunion....my great grandmother divorced and remarried a Fairchild so like most families nowadays it was a blended family. It is kind of funny because you can tell which side of the family people came from. The Fairchild side had  fair features..blue eye's, fair hair... and the Miles side exudes their Native American dark features...dark eye's and dark hair. 

 

 

This is the first time my dad has been back since his grandmother passed away, which was in the mid 70's. I think it brought back a flood of memories...good memories and memories of those who have since passed on. I personally have not met most of my dads family, I grew up with my dads brothers, and my grandma, a great aunt... that was virtually like a grandma, and some of my dads cousins ....but that was about it. It was finally a chance to connect all the stories I have heard over the years with faces and places.

 

My dads side of the family that I grew up around was loud, amazing story tellers, they drank a lot, teased ruthlessly, swore profusely,  and laughter was never lacking. They were big huggers, amazing cooks, and overall kind people. The Creede family...the family I have never met.. was exactly like the family that I grew up around. It is a blend of families... some look like the Miles side and some look like the Fairchild side..ultimately they are all family and come together as one.

 

I have stories I could share, and pictures to go along with them,  I want to share some because for me this is a journal in a sense and I don't want to forget some of things I heard this weekend....but homework is sitting next to me, calling my name, so stories will wait another day. However, tonight I would like to share one part of my trip and I think the most memorable.

 

 

My dads father passed away when my dad was a young teen. Talk about moments in your life that forever change you. He died of a heart attack, so it was sudden. The last time my dad has been in this spot is basically June 21, 1963. My grandpa was buried in Cedaredge, Colorado...not in Creede. His family lived in this town and kind of took over the funeral arrangements and he ended up here, but I think most in the family agree he would have preferred being buried in Creede.

 

I obviously never met my Grandfather. So here is what I have been told....

 

...his first name was Butler...but no one called him that ...he went by Bryan..his middle name

 

 

 

He worked in the mines...He is the one in the middle of the picture below.

 

 



 

My dad remembers him working the mines but my dad mostly remembers him being an Asayer in the mines. This is the guy who chemically figures out how much silver, gold, zinc etc was being mined in a particular spot.Below is a picture of the kind of equipment he used.

 

He helped construct and owned this theater in Creede.

 

 

 

He helped with the plans and construction of the local school. Apparently the mob came to town while building the school trying to convince my grandfather that it needed to be unionized. My grandfather said no, so they sent out a golden gloves boxer from out east to convince him otherwise....it did not go as planned..my grandfather knocked out the boxer in one punch...not so smart to mess with hard rock miners...they were as tough as the granite on the hills.

 

 



 

 

He loved my grandmother and my grandmother loved him. My grandmother gave me her wedding ring from my grandpa before she passed away..... I wear it on occasion.....

 

 

Friends and family said everyone loved him. He was fun and personable and all around a great guy. He is in the hat...second from the left....

 

 

 He was an undersheriff in Creede ( which is a deputy in Colorado ) also the coroner...It was a small town...everyone had a few jobs in town....One of my dads cousins is an undersheriff in town now. Just carrying on family tradition.

 

 



 

He loved his boys...his boys loved him...

 

 

He liked bourbon or whiskey. My dad has his Zippo lighter that he sat and flipped open and closed...sort of a habit of his...the lighter reminds my father of him....

 

So here is what I know..though I have never met my grandfather...I know he was there when my sister and I were born. He was there for holidays and when family came together to celebrate. He was there when I got married and when my babies were born.

 

...and.....

 

...I know he was there....

 

...when my father and I stood by his grave... and buried an amethyst stone from Creede beside his grave.....

 

...We brought a little piece of the place he loved back to him....

 

B. Bryan Beck  1912-1963