Brothers


What happened surrounding Michael’s wedding was the beginning of the end of my relationship with my mother. I realized then how much she manipulated my father and drove him absolutely batty in exactly the same way. He would beg her to tell him what was wrong just like I had and she would just be bitchy and negative.

To this day I don’t know if I had done something to offend her or what the hell was wrong. She wouldn’t talk about it. That was over and done. The past. We didn’t need to dwell on it. For fuck’s sake, Mother, you damn near ruined you son’s wedding. You certainly put me in a precarious position having to explain it all. Aren’t I entitled to know what the hell was going on? Apparently not.

I never trusted her after that. And I didn’t get over being angry. That incident was such a revelation. All sorts of shitty memories started flooding back into my concious memory of the abuse my brothers and I suffered at her hands.

How she had stuck my finger under the sewing machine needle and deliberately rammed the needle into it for a few seconds as she held my hand there because she caught me playing with her machine. I was maybe three when that happened. Maybe younger. My god in heaven that ain’t that woman was cruel.

It had always bothered me that I could not remember large parts of my childhood but now I think I don’t want to remember. No, I’m almost certain I don’t.

B

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That family genealogist found these blogs and contacted me. He told me he’d be happy to update our family information if I cared to give it. I told him to contact my mother and tell her how he found out there was an error. There have been a few hits on the site–two yesterday specifically for Phyllis Ann Fate Gavin.

What can I say? Welcome to my world, Mom if you are the reader. If it’s my brothers well hey there bro. Welcome to your world as well. It wasn’t always happy was it. Thanks to the sheer neglect that went on we managed to make it happy though. You three banded together and did all those crazy things that might have gotten you killed. I was so lonely watching the three of you sometimes. I felt shut out.

Well, that’s the way things were, It’s today that we should be living in. We’re all estranged and everything. I wonder what you think about that. I wonder if you give a rat’s ass. I wonder if you even know the reason why or care to know.

It might be other family members. If so, welcome to the Incestuous abusive story of one of your family members. Actually it involves a number of us. Right off hand I can’t say how many since I’d have to count all the ex-wives, girlfriends and husbands and children and their significant others. You get my drift right?

I’m tired. This shit makes me even more tired.

B

Nothing is as simple as we hope it will be

Jim Horning

My brother Michael who lives in Austrailia (he REALLY ran away from home! LOL) was in Clay Center for the weeked last weekend and my nephew who lives up here with my son made a flying trip out to spend some time with the fam. I went to Edgerton to spend time with the kids and grandkids Friday night and as usual Greg was my ride there and back so I got to hear all the gory details.

We agreed that the Gavins put the FUN in dysfunctional. Apparently Mike has mellowed over the years. He’s filthy rich so he can afford to be mellow but according to Greg he’s the fun member of the family while Chuck who used to be the laid back hippie with the long hair and easy going attitude and lifestyle has become a fundamentalist Christian who won’t say shit–at least not in front of his wife.

He hides the fact that he smokes weed from her and will not let her hear any of the stories about his wild child days. He’s become a totally competitive nutjob who has tied up his whole self-worth in his job and how much effing money he makes. That seemed to happen over night too. But he doesn’t try to hide his gambling and his need to make everything a competition. Has christianity become a contest for material possesions? Oh right, the properity doctrine!

He majored in journalism in college with a minor in sociology which was really cool. He’s a good writer. But when he graduated he got a job selling semi trucks and found out that like most Gavins he could sell air and make a profit. So then he went into selling insurance and then it was advertising and now he’s selling mortgages. When he started selling insurance he cut his hair, bought a three piece suit and a split level house on a cul-de-sac.

The next time I saw him, barely a year later, he had become A THREE PIECE SUIT and his hippie wife was totally miserable. Patty Jo told me once she absolutely hated living on a dead end street. She said it pretty much summed up their marriage. She stuck with him for a few years for the sake of their son but eventually she left. I definitely didn’t blame her. She and I were close and I knew her side of the story. It wasn’t pretty.

Michael went to a Tech School and took up computers back in the really early days. Early 70s. He’s a smart cookie and he began writing programs that could organize inventories. He went into the mining industry and he made a big splash. He rose fast and furious. He’s 52 I guess and I don’t really know what he does because I haven’t spoken to him in almost 15 years or seen him in 20.

I guess he got pissed when I told him I thought he should stop and think about it when he called me to tell me he was getting married the third time so soon after his second divorce. He may have been pissed because my mother didn’t come to the second wedding and I was supposed to bring her. I always wondered what that bitch told him about that incident. I will write about that sometime. What a cluster fuck. That was the beginning of the end of my relationship with my mother.

He’s been married 15 years to this wife. I think that’s a record amongst the siblings. According to the nephew this wife is really ballsy and doesn’t take any shit from him. That’s good because he’s got a personality just like Dad. And me. Intense. Volistic. Manic. And the Gavin men were raised to be chauvinists of the first order. I often wondered if Mike was physically abusive to his wives. He doesn’t have children.

I guess Greg and he had a conversation about me and Michael said it was just easier not to try to reconnect after 20 years. I think maybe from what Greg said I could be the one to make the first move and Michael would be OK with it. don’t know if I want to. Part of me fears rejection. Part of me worries I’ll open up the door and really dislike him. I can’t stand Chuck and basically tol him to bugger off 10 years ago because he was an ass. I have no respect for Jimmy because he’s a chauvinistic pig who is using the hell out of the woman who is living with him. He doesn’t give a shit about her and would kick her out in a heart beat if somebody better came along but she begs to be used so he does. He used to call me up and brag about it until I told him to knock it off. He doesn’t call me anymore. Greg told him the same thing so maybe he thinks I influenced Greg but to be frank, Greg influenced me.

I think I owe Michael an apology about some things that happened when we were children. It has been bothering me a long time. I might send him an email about that. I’ll have to talk it over with Harry first.

B

When my children were small they would ask me to tell them stories about what it was like when I was a little girl. I told them funny stories about my brothers. They called them the Uncle stories. I don’t think they even noticed that I told them hardly anything about myself.

I wish I could remember good times. I’m sure there must have been good times. It couldn’t have all been bad times could it? No. It’s just that the bad times over shadow all the good times, drawing a dark curtain over what was good. I remember times that started off good but turned out bad.

Mostly I remember being afraid to be happy because if I was happy something bad would happen. I remember laying awake in my bed at night and praying that nothing bad would happen. I remember making deals with god about what I would give up if only he would stop the bad stuff from happening. It never worked. I gave up being happy but the bad stuff kept happening. I could never be good enough.

Why do bad things happen to good little girls? Because shit happens and there is no one there to care. Especially not an all-seeing, all-powerful god.

B