Indiana

My family background.

I guess you could say I'm from Indiana... That's where I was born, and my Mother was born there as well as my Father. All my family on both sides, have roots there for generations. They all happily live and die staying right where they were born.

My Mother on the other hand, could not stay in Indiana... There for I could not not stay, as much as I wanted what the rest of my family had. An extended family, stable roots, growing up and knowing everyone in your town, attending school with the same people from K-12. These things were the kind of things that excited me as a child. The kind of things (besides falling in love with a handsome prince, and living in a castle) that my dreams and desires were made of well into adulthood. These things were exotic and unattainable to me. Which I'm sure add to the appeal. Looking back now I think differently about it. See "normal" in every sense of the world's view point of family was an impossibility for me no matter where I lived.

My Mother said it was her migrant blood passed down from generation to generation on her father's side that lead her from state to state and town to town. My maternal Grandfather came from a Catholic Mexican-American family. He spend his childhood as one of 13 children growning up from farm to farm. In a basket under a pickup truck shielding him from the hot summer sun as an infant for hours. Needless to say knowing this gave me some real insight on the saying "you came into this world alone, and you leave it alone."

My maternal Grandmother was a sight of fear as a child for me. I dared not look at her let alone talk to her. Anyone who put that much fear in to my mother (I've only known of two people to do this) most definitely put fear into me. She was nothing to be afraid of as I realized later on in life. They simply were two different types of humans. Many times family members compared me to my grandmother as being quite similar in manner. I would have to agree with them in many ways. But in others we do have our diffentances.

She was and is a respectable women of the highest degree. We both hated showing emotion (even if we felt it greatly), strong in mind and body, prideful, logical, at times cold and unattached. In physical appearance too. Both blonde, blue eyes, smilar facial features and expressions. On the tall side soild body, busty women. We both developed our womanly figures at a early age. In all the ways that are needed to survive this world when it puts you to the test as this world usually does with women without a protector. What you must understand is that usually when you find these types of women especially in our case... We are the type of women that if we were to act any other way about things, we'd crumble up like dry clay baked out in the sun too long. My Mother (who cries when she's happy, sad, angry, and every emotion in between) asked her why she never cried. My Grandmother's response summed it up in the most simplistic matter-of-fact and elegant way any women in our way of thought could by saying " I was afraid if I allowed myself to start, I wouldn't be able to stop. There was so much to cry about and never time for it. I had to keep going because no one was going to carry me through." Determination looks beautiful on the outside, but can leave some ugly scars on the inside when it's done out of survival.

Now my Father's side... The purpose is important and probably holds a lot more keys then doors I wish to open. He is a broken man. Low in spirite. For mental health reason that have scared his mind from childhood trauma's that he just didn't have the brain development to handle. It mentally crippled him from ever being able to attain them. Robbing him from a normal life and me of a normal Father. He was very handsome in his day, and even after all the years of smoking and self inflicted abuse to his body, he's been able to maintain his good looks. I suppose I look like him really. Though we are very different people in personality.

His Father died before I was born. His Mother died of lung cancer when I was young. Besides a few long distance phone calls and jewlary my Aunt sent me after her death. I have very little to remember her by. My Father's recalls his childhood with his parents drunken fights and embarrassing behavior that sour his view of them. My Aunt on the other hand paints a bit of a softer picture. I'm sure somewhere in the middle are the truths. Funny how people can be rasied in the same household, and remember thing so differently. I understand this because my Sister and I are very much the same in that aspect.

My Aunt was much older than my Father, and has taken him on since he was young helping as much as she could while rasing her own All American Family. She fought hard for that dream. Sure they have things like all of us do, but no one works harder than her. She is the living embodiment of the All American House Wife. Full of joy and life. "Optimists" is a good word. She wrote me letters for year with no where to send them. Years of letters, and every holiday card you can think of not one missing, Birthdays, Christmas, Forth of July not one missing from the stacks. She is the only reason I never wrote that side of my family off. Not to say they would of cared either way all rightfully busy in there own lives. But she never gave up on having me be part of the family. I love her for that and admire her for her inner beauty. Of course she could of been a model without a doubt a Hollywood star. She should of but her dream as a child was as simple as mine, and she was in a simpler time to get it. She cried one time while looking at me. She said I reminded her so much of herself, and I had a great aunts laugh who I had never met; I was flatter. I love her you know, for everything she was to me without me even knowing so. She was my dream come true. My reminder that it's possible. My dad says I remind him of her. I think in that I am a lot like her, too. Both in appearance and attitude.

My Aunt and my maternal Grandma are only a couple years apart. Well in their late 60's now. So I think maybe I was born in the wrong era. Maybe I don't understand my place in this time period that's why my life's so mixed up. Maybe this time in place doesn't understand me. Or maybe I'm just still waiting for my time.

Author's Note

Maybe error in grammar. But I was typing on my phone. Please feel free to leave comments and feed back. Thanks for reading

Reviews

[Inject Positivity]

Such a beautiful story...

I loved how you started the story by describing your connection to Indiana and how your previous generations born and brought up there and lived there till their death...

Your story telling style is quite impressive, the vital thing of a writing is details, and you have briefly described all the details that the reader needed to know about your life and your family...

I really love the attitude and personality of your grandmother and aunt, both of them are examples of strong human being who are mentally as tough as it can be...

The chapter keeps the reader interested about your journey and your life and makes him excited about what is coming next...

The only suggestion for you(which you know) is there are few spelling mistakes and I totally understand that, as I write on phone I do these type of errors quite often...

It is a wonderful beginning of a great book and I can sense it...

Sincerely
Dhiman