the Last Straw with my uncle

I haven't written a lot since the power went out and came back on about two weeks ago.

My uncle threw the last straw. I don't know that I even want him to be portrayed in a movie if there is one. He called my house one day and asked to speak to my aunt. She had gone to my other aunt's house and I told him. He called her there. He threatened to call Adult Protective Services on us.

The house still wasn't in order with her moving in.

We tried to get some things taken care of.

I hoped he would not follow through on his threat but he did.

Last Tuesday, a social worker showed up.

Everything was passed I guess.

Nothing happened.

I do not have an uncle anymore.

We are re-voking his power of attorney for my aunt.

I have been grieving over something, and I am having a very hard time.

Cindy

MY UNCLE and my aunt's business affairs

My uncle called the house phone today and asked if he could speak to my aunt. She had just gone up to see my aunt Rosie ( who lives in around the corner from me ). I told him she went to my aunt Rosie's. He paused. I didn't say anything and hung up. He almost acted like he wanted me to say something or converse with him.

He is STILL INSISTING that she (my aunt) turn things back over to him. STILL INSISTING that she turn things back over to him. He told her he was sending something for to fill out from the Retirement system and to send back to him which would switch things back over to him.

It was news to me that he was even trying to get her to do that. I was surprised. He acted like it was her choice and he wasn't going to put any effort into it, but he is obsessed with her (possibly) making a mistake and he's not going to bail her out if there is a mistake made. He bailed her out one time and he's not going to do it again. He is obsessed with this pursuit. Absolutely obsessed with it.

I called the attorney that has been a "go to" of mine over the years, the one who wrote a glowing recommendation and knows my uncle. The attorney was in charge of handling my mother's estate. ( and my uncle was the executor of the estate and this is all accounted in my book) I told him I wanted and that my aunt wanted "George's" power of attorney revoked. He talked to my aunt and said for her to write a letter to him saying she did not want him involved anymore and to come in to the office next week.

Well, that was today and still no power. Days are mush to me. Every day has felt like Sunday.
Have to go and have to send this to Ellen.

Cindy

the police involvement

I went to the police station last night and let a police officer listen to my uncle's message about getting them involved any bringing up charges. They said he didn't have a leg to stand on, to not worry about it, that if he showed up on my doorstep they would tell him to leave.

MY UNCLE

I talked about writing like someone whose writing I just read, but actually, I think he had help with it. I think he got his wife or hired a secretary or speech writer to write it. It's my uncle.

I think I should give you some background. My uncle ( I have mixed feelings about anyone playing him now, but the guy Matthew Perry is going to play in the movie--complete positive and wishful thinking--) has been paying my aunt's bills (Maggie in the book, his sister, my mom's "little" sister) since 2004. She had a stroke which I think I mentioned. Won't go into it. Anyway, she has been feeling unduley controlled by him for a very long time. He sends her money each week which comes from her Teachers Retirement account. He has been SO very obsessed with making sure that she has a savings fund or "rainy day" fund. He has begrudged her having her apartment cleaned and Especially carpet cleaned at the apartment. She had pets in the recent past ( I hope I mentioned, he HATES, loathes dogs and cats ) and he totally begrudged them.

Well, my aunt went to an attorney and had her money switched over to her own checking account, where it would be direct deposited. She didn't tell anyone except the woman who cleans for her ( and myself sometimes ) and is a very good hearted person. She's helped "Maggie" a lot. She told me about it and she knew "George" would be blowing a gasket. Well, he found out about it a couple days ago, and he blew a gasket. I told him I didn't know about it. I have been playing lightly with the idea of asking him for money to pay my phone bill ( $374, because I haven't paid it in a while ) or for the deductable for my insurance if it will pay for the blown siding and tree that fell. ( Uh, if the insurance will even cover it )

He didn't indicate that he was going to press her switch things over to him again. Not at all to me, but he would call and talk to her, and she said he was telling her to have it switched back over to him.

Somewhere along the line, he got it in his head that I was trying to keep her from talking to him. Today, I talked to him at around 11:30 am. I have had a terrible sinus infection and aching head and jaw and sore throat. I told him I was sick. He asked how and I told him. He asked me if my power was back on, and I said, "no." He showed a 1/16 of compassion and said, "Oh my goodness." He asked about talking to Cleta. He had called my cell phone, and I told him to call the house phone and Cleta would answer. That happened. I slept some more. I got up around 2 pm. My aunt and I went to the Waffle House about 4 pm. Well, my uncle called while we were at Waffle House. He showed again a 1/32nd of compassion ( I had to ask my aunt what was less than 1/16---I've recently come to have a greater understanding of fractions, 1/32 is less than 1/16, and 1/16 is less 1/8, and 1/8 is less than a 1/4 ) He asked me how I was feeling with 1/32nd of compassion. It really didn't sound sincere but I might consider thanking him for asking. He and I didn't have a great reception on the cell phones. He asked me where I stood on what my aunt did, about changing her deposit into her own account and taking care of her own stuff. Where did I stand, whose side was I on? I said I had been thinking about it. He asked, "How long, 24 hours?" I said no or something. I said I thought that since she was living with me now, that it would be easier for her to just give me the check for rent (since there are not a lot of things involved) and he said, and I will say it in a separate paragraph, very, very, very hateful to the max,

"Are you competent to do that or are you going to screw her up like you screwed up yourself?"

I couldn't believe it is not the way to describe it.

I had known that if I had proposed the idea he would bring it up.

He and I had a moment where if we had weapons in our hands we would have killed each other.

I said, "Oh, don't go there," and he did this thing where it seems he's throwing words together in a split second, and I hung up.

I'm not sure where I was when I listened to some messages but he left some messages sometime before he called me while we were sitting at the Waffle House. I think my aunt and I were at McDonalds. I went there to use the Internet. He must have called the house while WE WERE AT THE WAFFLE HOUSE OR ON OUR WAY TO THE WAFFLE HOUSE. He said, and I am not sure how I can repeat them word for word. I really can not go back into them at the moment, though I know it would be beneficial to continue in explaining the tone.

1st message---he said something about if I didn't let him talk to my aunt he would get the police involved and make up charges on me.

2nd message--Something to with me acting like a child.

I was confused and listened to the messages again. I was again, confused and felt like I had been hit with a silver bullit. No idea where he was coming from. She had talked to him in the morning. In NO WAY was I trying to keep her from talking to him! ( and I'm not mad at you with bold capital letters ).

I called him and said that he was no longer my uncle, that I was disowning him, that he was deceitful and had no compassion in his heart for anyone and that he was going to be going to hell.

And I hung up.

He called and left another message and said I have childish traits and it's not the way to start over in life, or something like that. He said something about me reading a script.

I realize I never had an uncle to begin with---You truly can't lose something you never had, and I will leave it to each and every person to determine if that had something. ( People used to tell me that I never had "Josh" and therefore couldn't lose him ) not sure if that makes any sense. I swore I lost "Josh" and I had him. It's coming out different than I had thought before. Point is, I do not have a loss---he never was an uncle. My dad's brothers were uncles. They loved me. I knew they loved me. Even uncles that I may have not seen every day, I knew they loved me. I didn't see my Uncle (and I'll use his real name) Bob all the time, but I knew he loved me. My Uncle Donnie would take me to the store with him and when he got his pack of cigarettes, he'd say, "What do you want Cindy?" I remember one time I got fruit roll ups and one time I got my dog a collar. One time when I was little, I was sick and lying on the couch and my Uncle Bill came in and felt my forehead. He said, "She's warm."

Why, why, why could he have not been that way?

When my mother was given the death sentence, he and his wife were trying to coerce my mother to move to Georgia with them. I would have had to have given up my dog, everything I knew, and I knew I was going to lose my mom. I couldn't stand to lose my dog---she was like a sister. I was crying while I was on the phone with him, and he said, "Cindy, I can't understand you with you crying."

I actually forgot that he said that until today.

I respected him my WHOLE life. I thought he was the coolest. I thought he was handsome. I had nothing but respect for him and wanted my whole life for him to respect me, because I respected him so much. He almost had "celebrity status" in my mind. And I realized today, that it's not worth my time to worry anymore about whether or not he respects me.

Power Outage

A lot to catch up on. I suppose Ike came through Ohio, and we had the strongest winds we have ever had. In the area and town in which I live, power was lost throughout. And I know I'm not talking or writing like normal. You'll find out why in the next post. I'm trying to be on my best grammar and appear as adult like as possible. Actually, I'm writing kind of like someone whose writing I just read ( if it is his at all ).

Haven't had power since September 13. Trees down everywhere. No power. Candles lit at night. Dark in the bathroom, and you haven't lived till you've had to hunt for the toilet seat or find yourself trying to sit on something that isn't the toilet seat. Nothing to do. No contact with the outside world---no TV. I could have read the newspaper but that would have really have made me feel deprived. I usually read it for fun or because it's there--not because I have to.

I really, really, really feel horribly for the people who went through Hurricane Katrina. Oh my Goodness. You really do not know what someone has gone through until you have walked in their shoes.

I have lost track of the days of the week. For all I know, today is Sunday. I'm at Panera Bread and this is the first time I've had the chance to get here (to this blog).

I think that is all I will say about the power outage. OH---people across the street, up the street, around the block have power but I and the people on my particular street do not.

That is all I will say---READ THE NEXT POST Or Posts.

I can still remember your eyes poem

This sounds a bit like the Johnny Cash song, "I Still Miss Someone," but I didn't intend that when I wrote it.

By Katherine Lucinda Taylor



I can still remember your eyes,

Your eyes, oh your eyes,
That used to be in front of me when I’d look at my friend LuAnn (whose eyes reminded me of yours)
Oh, your eyes that I used to fall into
Get lost in
The twinkle, the somberness at times
Always stayed in my mind

I could see and can see
While looking over there
Across the room
Out the window
At the rug

Your eyes, I could see everywhere.

A little more about me, in another way

I will let you know, this is not a piece written by the man who wrote the Unfortunate Event series of books, but I may begin writing that way. If I had known he would have been so successful, I would have written the series myself, but most people would have said to me, “Are you sure you want to be so glum?” I will never forget the first time I opened up one of the books. The first page said something to this effect: “I’m going to let you know right now, there is no silver lining to the story in this book. It does not occur at the beginning, middle or end. There is no happy ending.” It seems as if my life has been a series of unfortunate events, and I’m hoping that there will be a happy ending, though in my story.

I had a great life. My dad died before I was born, but my mom was awesome. She knew how to beat struggles. She was a teacher, and she taught me about teaching. She never stopped being a teacher, even when her career was cut short in 1982. She taught for 25 years, and in the middle of her 25th year, the school system said she was an “incompetent” teacher, but she was in no way incompetent. She was very competent and loved by her students. I ran into a former student the other day, and when I told him what had happened, he was saddened. He said in his memory of his teachers, she was thought of with fondness, that what happened was “unfortunate.” He is an attorney. She had quite a few students become attorneys. Oh, she taught science and biology. I know she was a good teacher because she taught me about the mysteries of science. I was always a bit “slow” in science, and she knew how to explain it to me. She knew her stuff.

When I was 16, she was diagnosed with colon cancer. Actually, she was diagnosed in an emergency condition. She had been having severe abdominal pain for weeks and had puked every 2 ½ hours the night before she went to the hospital. I could tell by the clock when I would hear the awful sound. It was like “clockwork.” The words were ones that I had always feared: Cancer. But, the surgeon said when he came out of the emergency surgery, that he got it all. I had always heard when, “They got it all,” it seemed as if life would continue, that it was good news. I told my mom when she awoke from the surgery, that it was cancer, but “they got it all,” and she looked relieved. I thought, “we got it all” was the silver lining. I thought it was just a little “burp” in life, but it turned out to be a struggle the next three years of her life, our life.

She/we struggled for the next three years. The cancer went into remission for about 6 months, and then it ravaged her body. She died July 12, 1994.

So, I continued going to school. I had started college in the fall of 1993, and I finished my classes the winter the cancer ravaged her body.

I was majoring in psychology, and now, I wonder why I did such a thing. People that major in psychology get a Masters in it or counsel people. I wasn’t interested in doing either one. I thought, and had heard, “you just need a degree, and a degree in something,” and that was what I went with---I thought I could get any kind of job. So, after graduating in 1998, I got “any” kind of job, a job in insurance, 100% commission. I thought I was going to make it “Big” anytime. I lived off savings, from my mom.

At some time, in my second year, of insurance sales, I decided I needed a job that paid, for your time. I got a job at a bank, and my uncle (my mom’s brother) is ever reminded that I didn’t stay there. I hated it. Hated it. I cried before I would start the day. I knew, at that point, in 2000, that I needed to work in a school, in spite of what I had told myself.

There was a resentment on my part toward the school system that had said my mother was incompetent and fired her in the middle of her 25th year of teaching, stripping her of her right to a retirement party and “hooplah” when someone retires. She should have had that retirement party and she should have had honor, instead of having to pack up in January and leave her career in education behind. There is a point of no return when you have years of experience in education: no one wants to hire you if you were toward the end of your career as a teacher, and especially if you were “fired” on grounds of incompetence.

I, somehow, found a way to get past that resentment. I, somehow, knew I loved working with kids who had learning problems more than my fear or resentment of what happened to my mother.

I also had problem with the stock market. The stock market is not a place for amateurs, and I lost a bunch of money. I knew I needed a career with a future and stability, and on that I would love. I had heard that special education was virtually recession proof. I “smoothed over” that resentment and went full tilt into special education.

There is something I forgot about---in 1997 or 1998, I met a guy, lost my heart and it would seem, lost my head, also. That struggle hit me quite heavily recently.

For a year, I worked in an urban school district as a special educator, before I got my license from the State, to teach.

I loved my student teaching experience and loved the district. It used to be, though, that it was easy to get jobs in education, and I suppose, special education, but over the years, it has been increasingly difficult. If you are willing to move, yes, maybe there is a shortage, but then again, you may be competing with people from the area that is out of your area. I thoroughly believe that for every opening in a school system, there are countless numbers of people interested in each and every opening.

My teaching test was mis-scored in 2003, and the 2003-2004 school year was a complete mess. I finally called my University in 2004, and asked if they knew of any openings, anywhere. Sure enough, thankfully, there was an educational opening. It was 50 miles away, but I took it. I took it, and I loved it. I loved it. Loved the people. Loved the place. I was in love.

In 2007, my long, three year “honeymoon” ended. They didn’t need people who performed my job anymore. I also found out that there was a glitch within a Federal law and my state, that may have further “tripped” me from getting another job.