Our old Homestead in Tarrytown 2023
Got up this morning feeling a little yucky. Still I took my medicine and made my bed like a good little boy and got dressed. While sitting at my desk an old song came to mind from long ago. My wife and kids always hated it when I pulled this song out around this time of year. It’s titled, “If we make it through December” by the great Merle Haggard. If you are not familiar with the tune, I strongly suggest looking it up. It’s so downright depressing that it will surely pick you up. For me the song holds a great amount of memory, of me struggling to make a Christmas for my kids. Knowing I barely made enough money just to survive. Always depending on the generosity of family and charity to make the season a happy one for my kids.
Even after all these years, I find it hard to put these words to screen. The shame and embarrassment I felt back then crawls all over my heart even now. I’m sure there are a few of you out there that know exactly how I feel. Even when your family was pleasant and welcoming, you still felt the shame of knowing you were never good enough to take care of your own. And so through the years of watching my kids grow up and make names for themselves. The pride I do feel is oddly tainted with the stench of inadequacy and failure.
But over the decades I have worn an exterior coat of toughness like a dingy armor. And while it has caused a many a contentious disagreements with my family, it has served me well to survive. So way do I write about all this gloom and doom? Why like my forefathers before me just sweep all this under the rug? I guess because I’ve allowed myself to taste the freedom of release. At first it was through religious fervor, but when I outgrew that, I turned into myself and learned to listen and forgive. Life hands us all different kinds of advantages and disadvantages. If you read my work, then you can plainly see mine. The message here is, don’t give up and at least try. Then you will find you can make it through as well.
Even after all these years, I find it hard to put these words to screen. The shame and embarrassment I felt back then crawls all over my heart even now. I’m sure there are a few of you out there that know exactly how I feel. Even when your family was pleasant and welcoming, you still felt the shame of knowing you were never good enough to take care of your own. And so through the years of watching my kids grow up and make names for themselves. The pride I do feel is oddly tainted with the stench of inadequacy and failure.
But over the decades I have worn an exterior coat of toughness like a dingy armor. And while it has caused a many a contentious disagreements with my family, it has served me well to survive. So way do I write about all this gloom and doom? Why like my forefathers before me just sweep all this under the rug? I guess because I’ve allowed myself to taste the freedom of release. At first it was through religious fervor, but when I outgrew that, I turned into myself and learned to listen and forgive. Life hands us all different kinds of advantages and disadvantages. If you read my work, then you can plainly see mine. The message here is, don’t give up and at least try. Then you will find you can make it through as well.
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