Step-Dad stories (plural)

My folks divorced when I was 13. We lived in Altus, Oklahoma at the time and I can remember every detail just like it was yesterday. Dad was unfaithful while he was stationed in Tailand for a year. Actually, he started a whole nuther family while he was there. And when Mom found out about it, she went a little crazy. She had just found out that she had Multiple Sclerosis and she had some real powerful meds at her disposal. And boy did she put them to use! I guess it's kind of funny now. But back then it was scary as hell.

I don't really know why I'm telling this story here just now. I guess I feel like our time is short and I feel like I have to get this out of my system. Or something like that. Anyway, this all happened back in 1976. It was crazy, but at the same time, it was a godsend because us kids (me, my little sister and big brother) were relieved to be rid of the asshole that was our father. We had a real tough time of it after the divorce because money was scarce and it was all we could do to eat three square meals a day. And like I said, Mom went a bit crazy. Us kids were pretty much on our own for a good while because Mom would take off on a regular basis and be gone for who knows how long. The days stretched into weeks and we just kept getting up for school and eating whatever we could find and coming home not knowing what was coming next. We maintained, but I don't really know how. Mom would show up now and then and bring home more food. That was always nice.

So not long after the divorce was final, Mom took up with a fellow that owned a steakhouse. He was married, but that didn't seem to bother Mom much. Him neither. He hired me to be his short order cook and I wound up being the night shift supervisor at the age of 14. Hey, I'm a good cook. Well, that didn't last for obvious reasons. He couldn't get away from his wife and Mom couldn't wait... so she found another fellow. A wildlife officer. Oh, what a gem he was. He knew all the best places to poach deer and turkey. And after he and Mom got married, he taught me and my brother how to get away with killing yearling steers and butchering them in the back yard. It was quite a learning experience.

Well, he didn't last more than 6 months and the marriage was annulled. When he and his son left, they stole everything from us that was worth stealing. Including almost all of our guns. They took them while we were in school. The only one they didn't get is my Dad's .38 servce revolver. I kept that under my matress because I thought that fellow was a child molester.

So after he was gone, we were getting close to getting kicked out of our house because the money wasn't stretching far enough. Then Mom met the psycho. I don't want to use names because no one really needs to know that stuff. This guy was a genuine alcoholic, and that's for sure and for certain. He was like an alcoholic on steroids. He routinely drank a case of beer a night. I don't know what Mom saw in him, but she took to him like a duck takes to water. He was hungarian and knew how to cook. I guess that was his saving grace with us kids. By the time Mom married him we were really tired of our own cooking and shifting for ourselves. This fellow was a master mechanic and made good money. But he spent the majority of it on his beer habit. He was a hard worker, to be sure. And when the mechanic trade didn't pay the bills he would get me to go with him and do drywalling and roofing jobs. That man was brilliant. He could literally do anything with his hands. But him and my Mom couldn't see eye to eye on some things and it finally came to a head.

We had moved out of the house in Altus to the small town of Martha. The rent was cheap and the house was nice. But Mr. Beer drinker just couldn't stay off the sauce long enough to be a caring human. And he lost his job. So I had to do whatever I could to make sure we ate regular meals (my older brother was off to college by this time). That's when I learned to catch them big snapping turtles in a nearby creek. They're good eating but you can sure get tired of them quick. We even tried to eat a possum once but the recipe we had didn't work out and the smell drove us out of the house! That was a learning experience I'll never forget.

One night, Mr. Beer drinker drank way more than usual because he was all bummed out about not being able to find a job. We had all gone to bed one night (my brother was home for the weekend) and all of a sudden we heard Mom scream and we all rushed into their bedroom to see what was going on. Mr. Beer drinker was on top of Mom choking her to death. It was like slow motion after that. I stood there not believing what I was seeing. My sister grabbed a ceramic Kennedy bank off of Mom's dresser and busted Mr. Beer drinker in the head with it. But she had it turned the wrong way and it didn't even make him grunt. I'm still standing there looking at this situation trying to figure out the best move I can make and all the sudden my brother (Mr. Tae-Kwon-Do) makes a flying leap through the air and kicks MR. Beer drinker upside the head. Well, my brother wound up on the other side of the bed on his backside and Mr. Beer drinker was still choking the life out of Mom on the bed. Then my brother jumped on his back and put a choker hold on him and they both tumbled to the floor. My brother was able to hold onto him till he was knocked out cold and then he got up and didn't know what to do with himself. We all just stood there looking at each other till Mr. Beer drinker started coming to. Oh crap! My brother went over and started pounding on his head trying to knock him out again and they both wound up smashing through the bedroom door into the kitchen. Mr. Beer drinker stood up and bellowed like a mad bull and then smashed his fist through the kitchen door window. And in the process he drove a long shard of glass through his arm from the wrist to the elbow. He stood there and pulled the glass out and then sat down on the telephone chair and just watched his blood spurt out onto the kitchen floor.

And we did the same thing. We just stood there, open mouthed, while his blood poured out onto the kitchen floor making one hell of a pool. Meanwhile, we all went back into the bedroom to make sure Mom was still alive. She was ok, if a little hoarse from getting choked within an inch of her life. When we were sure she was ok, we went back into the kitchen to see what Mr. Beer drinker was up to. Well, there must have been at least a gallon of his blood on the kitchen floor by that time. So we got busy trying to save his sorry life and wrapped a tea towel around his arm and applying a tournaquite. Then we drug his sorry ass to our car and my brother drove us to Altus at about 100 MPH all the way to the hospital. We had an escort of police by the time we got there because my brother wouldn't stop for them. We got him into the ER and then went outside and collapsed on the grass. They saved his life, but it was a close call. The next day, my brother and I spent some time shooting all of Mr. Beer drinkers beer with our .22 rifles. And we both swore we'd never be like him. Or our Dad. But now we were screwed because the big bread winner was down and out for at least 2 months. My brother moved out and left it all up to me. I guess I did ok, all things considered.

We got kicked out of the house in Martha and moved to Duke. It was a shitty little house that should have been condemned because the floor was buckled and the roof was about to fall off. But we made a home there because that was all we had left. Actually, of all the places we lived during the struggling years, that was my favorite. There were rattlesnakes and jackrabbits and snapping turtles and catfish. And since I was responsible for making sure we got something to eat each day, I spent a great deal of time hunting and fishing after school. Until I got hired to stomp cotton and plow for a local farmer. I was making $1.65 and hour and those were good wages back then. We were able to eat and pay the rent and that's really all we had to be concerned about back then. Mr. Beer drinker had recovered but couldn't find any work. He did odd jobs enough to pay for his beer but we were on our own. We all learned to do without during that time in our lives. We lived through it, but it wasn't pleasant.

I can't count the number of times that we went witout something to eat when we were hungry. I did my best but I was only 15 and didn't have a good handle on responsibility. I wanted to have fun like any kid. I have to cook supper now so I'll finish this later.

I'm sorry that you had Stepfathers like that. I was truly blessed by a wonderful Stepfather after my Dad died.

It sounds like you did the best you knew how and were a wonderful brother. I hope that your siblings appreciate you. You were storing up treasures in heaven during those years, whether you realize it or not.

As Mr. Beer drinker healed, he started getting cocky. He found a job working as a mechanic so that helped our financial situation but he was back to drinking a case of beer a night. Now this fellow was a behemoth. He was unusually muscular having forearms about the size of my thighs as a 15 year old kid. And one night he got lit up and he and Mom started arguing about this and that... the usual. It wound up getting physical and just as I stepped around the corner of my bedroom door to see what was going on he hit Mom and sent her flying across the room. I mean he balled up his fist and hit her in the jaw like she was a man in a barfight. I just stepped back into my room and picked up my little league slugger baseball bat and ran out and tapped him in the back of the head. He started to get up so I whacked him again. Then I went and picked Mom up off the floor and took her into the bathroom to see how bad it was. She was bruised up pretty bad but no bones were broken. And that was the beginning of the end of Mr. Beer drinker. He minded his manners from then on and I always kept my bat handy just in case. He would go outside and drink his beer and pass out in the yard. And we just let him have at it. There was a time or two that he got out of hand and I almost had to shoot him. But thankfully those times blew over no serious blood was shed.

There's a lot of grey areas in my memory after that. But we seemed to do alright until I got my walking papers and enlisted in the Air Force. Around that same time, Mom and Mr. Beer drinker packed up and moved to Iowa and my little sister got married. My first months leave was spent going to Iowa and helping my Mom move to Texas when she divorced Mr. Beer drinker. By that time he had stopped drinking and was trying to get back with his first wife. He became a total zombie with absolutely no emotions. I still wonder what ever became of him. He was a hell of a likeable guy when he wasn't a half a case into a good drunk. It was just hard to catch him sober.

After moving to Texas, Mom got a job at a cattle ranch. That's when she met the cowboy. That dude wouldn't touch a beer or liqour with a ten foot pole, but he was a total jerk none the less. Mom was just looking for companionship and security I guess. But tying up with the cowboy wasn't the answer. He'd lived with his folks up to the age of 42. Then his Dad died and he bought a house and moved his mother into it with him where she continued to cook his meals and do his laundry and etc... He'd never been married when he and Mom met at the age of 52. So this fellow was as spoiled as they come. And his Mom lived with them after they got married and my Mom wound up taking care of both of them. He was the pickiest damn eater I've ever seen in my whole entire life. And she was even worse because you can't cook for someone who's cooked their entire life. There's just no satisfying them. It was a real mess.

After 5 or 6 years, Mom was really getting tired of the bullshit. His Mom had passed on during the second year they'd been together and that just made things even tougher on Mom. That man could never be satisifed. I was home on leave one time and decided to cook my world famous grilled steaks for our dinner. I went the extra mile and really went overboard to make sure everything was just so for the cowboy. And his comment when we sat down to eat was to say "I can't eat this shit" and he got up and went to the living room to watch TV. That was it for me. I went in there and told him he was damn lucky I didn't whip his ass for him. I had bought the steaks and spent several hours preparing that meal. So I stood there and told him just what I thought about all of his chickenshit picky bullshit and he just sat there looking at me. We never got along real good after that but he never said anything bad about my cooking after that either.

Needless to say, Mom didn't hang around long after that. Long story short, she married the only man that ever made her happy after she divorced the cowboy. They had 10 good years together before he died of cancer. He taught me how to make knives and he was a good, decent man. He cherished my Mom and that's a fact. I guess that's why I decided to write this story. Mom is dying of liver and lung cancer now and I've been doing a lot of thinking about how we got to where we are right now. It's been a long hard road, I can tell you. But we're here and I'm doing the best I know how to do for Mom. It's never enough but not because she expects too much. It's just that I feel so helpless to do anything that can make a difference. She'll be 67 on the 7th of September. I'm not ready for her to go. I guess that's all there is to my story.

You are a very good son.

max,
your mom and you kids have really been thru the wringer. i know you dont want her to leave. with all her decisions and mistakes in life it sure was wonderful for her to find her good husband who finally gave her the love she must have been looking for. there must be so much unsaid between you 2. what a life you have had.

but there is obviously so much love in you.

when my mom passed this spring it was very hard, hard for the loss of her, hard for the years that we were estranged and hard because i wanted to be able to talk with her, touch her, connect with her before she died and i didnt have that chance. she died before i could get there. i wanted so much to be able to talk about all the pain and suffering and insanity and to find peace with her. i wanted to set aside the past and see her for the person she was. but it just didnt happen.

i am so happy that you are doing what you can with her. i know you feel like you cant do anything, but you are, Max--you are with her and loving her. you may feel helpless but you are doing the very best thing just by being you.

as a mom who has had a rough road and hasnt always been the best of moms, when i die it would be important to me to see my kids, to have them close by so i could tell them that i loved them and that i was sorry for the times i let them down, and just have them near one more time.

i wish i had your guts, max. i wish i had your strength. and someday, i wish i get to meet you. for you are a remarkable person.

you and yours are in my prayers. peace to you and God bless.

jazzy

I guess you're right Jazzy. I sell myself short more often than not. I feel like a loser most of the time and can't seem to find any direction for my life. But I'm here taking care of Mom and I feel like that's what I'm supposed to do. And I'm ok with that. But I still suffer from guilt because I can't have a regular job and still take care of Mom. She only has one eye so she won't drive any more. That kind of ties me up as far as her care and shopping and so forth. I'm all she has in this world and I'm here for her. It's enough for her, but I don't think she understands what it's doing to me. Or my wife. It's a catch-22 situation I wouldn't wish on anyone. But I don't want any relief either. This is my life and I'm doing what I think is right. Mom was there for me when I couldn't take care of myself as a young one. Now it's my turn to take care of her. I don't know why it fell to me instead of my brother or sister. I guess I've always been closer to Mom than them so maybe that's it. My brother is a selfish bastard and my sister has been having marital and weight problems for frigging ever. So I'm it. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

But the hardest part is knowing that now I'm waiting for Mom to die. It's not like I know that she's going to die some day in the future. It's that I know she's going to die sooner than later. And I'm going to be here for her no matter what happens. I can't imagine cleaning her soiled body as she loses control, but I'm prepared to do that if it comes to it. She did it for me, after all. Mom can count on one thing. When she dies, she'll be holding my hand and looking into my eyes. Because I'll be here. No matter what. So thanks Jazzy. You've made me smile with your thoughtful comments. I wouldn't wish my job off on anyone. But I also wouldn't trade jobs with anyone. This is a very important time in my life and even though I'm not happy with it right now, I know I'll be happy later when it counts. And then I'll be able to persue my own life with my wife. I guess there are always rainbows under the clouds, if you can find them. I'm looking forward to the rainbows.

max,

wish i could find a rainbow, but i know the guy who painted it.......