Holidays
Nov 15The holidays are upon us. For most, this is a favorite time of year. I’m proud to say I now count myself among that group. I cannot say that has always been the case, though. My childhood memories of the holidays are marred with significant dysfunction and chaos. I’m sure I’m not alone in this. As far back as I can remember, the holiday season has been one of great strain and sadness. It was once a reminder of lack of family, resources, and stability. Even as recent as a few years ago this supposed jovial season was simply a catalyst for painful memories. It wasn’t until I created my own life through my own decisions and choices that I finally realized the holidays did not have to conjure feelings of sadness anymore. My later healthy decisions and choices were not predicated upon the typical prescriptions of “picking yourself by your bootstraps” or “staying positive.” They were based on the kindness of strangers, the influence of healthy, intelligent people, and a desperation to escape the cycle of poverty and abuse.
My dad left when I was 12. I felt no sadness… only relief, as the news of his abandonment set in. The reason for the relief is another chaotic story to be told in future times. When he left, my mom became solely responsible for four kids. It soon became apparent she was not up to the task. Neither of my parents had a college education. My mom hadn’t even completed high school; my father received his GED in prison the same year I graduated high school. I remember watching my mom during the first year after my father left. She worked a day job and a night job. Both were dead-end and without upward mobility. I watched her come home each day, the bags under her eyes darker and more pronounced. With each subsequent endless day, she slowly lost what little coping ability she had. Without an education, she was left to work jobs that did not pay enough to support a family of five. As she succumbed to her various maladies, we suffered. We watched as our only provider became too ill to care for us due to mental illness and drug addiction. Rapidly, my family became the target of handouts from many we knew. The quiet passing of checks into the pocket of my mom’s shirt, the cash left in silverware drawers in our home after bible studies, or the trips to the grocery store where we could finally buy food at the expense of a kind-hearted friend with a Costco card and open checkbook… I watched countless strangers come in and out of our lives, giving endlessly of themselves and their resources for no other reason than their boundless kindness. I was inspired, yet saddened to be in this position.
For most people, holidays involve convivial gatherings. They’re filled with grand meals, time with loved ones, and relaxation. Taking into account the previous description, for me, it was quite different. When I look back I am in awe of the individuals who successfully salvaged my childhood holiday memories with their kindness.
I still remember the difficult times, though…
In my mom’s poor home, winters in Idaho meant blue lips and wearing heavy coats indoors. It meant the house being 30 degrees because paying for heat isn’t a necessity when you can hardly buy food. It meant little me, shivering in bed, waiting for my mom to fall asleep… then sneaking to turn on the heater, laying my blanket over the vent on the floor, and sleeping there for the night. Those of you who know me, know that I can sleep just about anywhere… those nights though, made for some damn good sleep. My siblings and I can laugh about this now, but it wasn’t always that way. Poor cold Idaho winters also meant receiving free winter coats at school for being part of a special “poor-kids” program… all the kids involved got the same, light blue, puffy coat. Our scarlet (or light-blue) letter, if you will.
I’m not sure if the plight of the poor kid is well understood by the majority. It’s an embarrassing and difficult place to be. One of my most vivid memories as a teenager is of grocery shopping. What a dreadful experience. I would be literally sweating in the store… scanning the faces of everyone I passed, terrified I would see someone from my school. Nearing the checkout line, my fear was that a classmate would be one lane away as the cashier whispered, “Will that be cash, or…” then their voice always seemed to raise many decibels, to a shout when they finished the sentence… “FOOD STAMPS.” This comical scene would cause me to cringe with utter horror back in the day, while now I tell the story to make others laugh. It was a struggle with only one family member outside of my immediate family, who was able to purchase my clothing and others things that would help me ‘fit in’. The struggle for necessities like food, shelter, and clothing meant the extras were out of the question.
My Christmases were never without magic that was fueled by small tokens of charity and gifts from volunteers with organizations who worked to give presents to children of imprisoned parents. Trust me, I needed those socks. My Thanksgiving dinners were filled to the brim with delicious goodies due to the kind-hearted church people who donated turkeys and fixin’s. There were also the volunteers at food banks who served those less fortunate. I was never forgotten. I was never alone. Strangers fought to give me a happy holiday. Without these caring strangers, my memories would have been far more bleak.
All too often I hear criticisms of parents like mine and while they’re often legitimate, these criticisms do not help the children who are victims of poor parenting decisions. Phrases like, “pick yourself up by your bootstraps,” and “stay optimistic,” are not helpful, especially for children. During this holiday season, I hope people find a way to temper their anger with parents who are unable to “pick themselves up by their bootstraps” and realize that behind these destructive and broken adults, there are blameless, innocent children who could really use their help… children who are likely about to enter a cycle, which will be nearly impossible to break. There are countless childhood memories to be saved. Children like me will be forever changed by the kindness of strangers during the holiday season. When your only lifeline cannot provide for you, it’s difficult to come up in life or even feel motivated to do so. Your kindness to struggling families saves children.
It was one of the things that helped save me.
I cannot describe my thankfulness for the cop who shopped with me at Kmart and bought me a toy and a clothing item during ‘Shop With A Cop’. I’ll be forever grateful for the numerous members of Eastwind Community Church who gave endlessly to provide me some semblance of normalcy. I wish I knew all the names of those who provided for me as a child. I hope they know the impact they had on me. I hope they know how they motivated me. I hope they know that I pay it forward and these kindnesses were not lost on me.