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Renamed Clueless

July 12, 2016 • By

July 12, 2016

I shadowed my mother for years. She was a bundle of energy regardless of her mood. Trip-tripping after her all day was as natural as air. She sang songs, made up rhyming games, and criticized dust a lot. On the days she was winning the battle against clutter I could ask her anything.

Just before my 6th birthday I had a brief identity crisis. Daydreaming over milk and Oreo cookies all thoughts fixed on my name, Patricia. It seemed rather a mouthful. That was reason enough to shorten it. Mom explained to me once it meant regal. Then she giggled.patty patrick kevin slide

In truth I had three names:

“Patty” meant a call to action. I responded slowly.

“Paaaaaatriiiiiiiiiiciaaaa” meant guilt. I dove out of sight and invented excuses.

“PATRICIA MARIE” meant reformation. I headed for the nearest exit.

Half way into a final cookie dunk I considered the significance of my name. I chased the last bite with a gulp of milk, licked my mustache clean, and ran off to find Mom. I had an important question. She had the answer.

I found her two bedrooms down the hall. She was wearing seven glasses on her fingers nabbed from underneath the beds.

Out of breath now I asked, “Mom, who was I named after?”

She stopped in a peculiar pause.

“My grandfather Patrick, Patrick Michael Reagan.” I had heard that name before. I had even seen a picture of him- tall, narrow nose, thin build; didn’t look like anyone in the family I’d ever met.

My curiosity about this business of naming children piqued. The origin of mine could uncover clues about how I fit into the family. Had I been a boy our clan would have had two pairs, a matched set. Maybe Mom and Dad wanted a fourth boy. Was I a disappointment from day one? Every time she yelled “Patricia” would she rather have hollered “Patrick?”

Anticipation pushed out the crowning question.

“Mom, if I was a boy would you have named me Patrick?”

She blinked her answer.

“No, Kevin.”

Mom and glasses clinked around the corner.

I stared. Did she want a Patty or not?

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Delayed Start: A 1960s July Fourth

July 4, 2016 • By

Colorado schools let out mid June. Fourth of July signaled summer was in full swing. We celebrated at each other’s throats.

Colorado and american flag

Waking up at the crack of dawn was habit for those of us on the summer swim team.

On this holiday we were awake, with no place to go. Dad doubled the chore list to promote a relaxing day, just he and Mom plus five children. My parents were hopeful idealists on holidays.

Already bored we wandered to the kitchen. Crisp sunshine cast a glow on lemon yellow walls. Four or five bangs of the screen door later, the entire herd of cats was accounted for. Friskies crunched, water lapped, they retreated to sleep spots. Their schedule uninterrupted, ours was missing.

Lethargic with free time, we moped. Maybe someone would whip up a batch of Bisquick pancakes topped with sweet and tacky Log Cabin syrup. Not a chance.

One by one the boxes of cereal tipped off the refrigerator and cluttered the table; all but Dad’s Shredded Wheat. That stuff was meant for horses.

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Psychological Self-Evaluation

March 10, 2016 • By

March 10, 2016

Day 30. I’ve survived a month without coffee, sweets of any flavor, and not one drop of alcohol.

That fact alone should give me confidence to dig in for the remaining willpower required.   Instead I am riddled with doubt. It occurred to me last week I may have an identifiable issue where caffeine is concerned.raw coffee beans

My cure for doubt- information. Today I walked to the college library in search of what professionals might consider a “problem” with caffeine consumption. News reports are conflicting. One study suggests coffee is good for you; another reports it’s bad. The inconsistencies should leave me hovering in the everything-in-moderation zone. But I’ve been told flat out I’m a person driven to extremes. My understanding of moderation may be a bit murky.

Today’s objective- a psychological self-evaluation using The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual-V.  Still shelved behind the main desk for reserved use only, I knew it would yield facts needed to put my fluttering mind at ease.