Sunday, May 28, 2006

PRIMITIVE

I was deliberate, planned, only turned the wrong way and brought my mother pain. He was breech born, she’d tell others, as if that’s how trouble begins; as if, later when I was in high school, this would explain why my father left my vehicle on our front lawn for everyone to see. He even broke the steering column, he’d tell visitors concerned for my well being.

I’ll admit, I lacked direction, one mistake away from ending up in prison myself. We all make mistakes; mine were often deliberate. Trust, they say, is very hard to regain. Imagine a convict, who did something so horrific, trying to convince the parole board to give him a second chance at life. I’m reminded of the time when I was a junior in college and I had the State Troopers over to my parents’ house at 3 a.m. so I could fill-out a property damage report on my car. My parents woke up and asked, What did he do now? I understood their logic.

But I’m surviving, just like I survived bad penmanship in grade school by switching hands (Don’t believe what they say about left-handers—they’re not all evil.). My wild days have since passed. I’m domesticated. I tackle "honey do" lists with renewed energy. I’ve learned that a happy home is a home where individual sacrifices are made, where commitment is key. I’m still trying to finish everything I set out to finish this Memorial Weekend. I’m still moving forward, in a direction that’s quite pleasing—to me—to my family.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Nice post. That expains it, left handed and breeched to boot. Nothin' but trouble. Like the picture. Looks like a coworker.
MW

Erik Donald France said...

Hey Jim,

Love it! Especially as a fellow left-hander with the "bend sinister." I wrecked a vehicle also, but the cops let me go and my parents didn't learn about it until the next day. Luckily, it was my first car and only a used Pinto wagon, if you can believe it.

Michelle's Spell said...

Love the post, Jim! As for drug testing, it's a sin. I had to do the whole thing when I worked in social work, a profession that requires drugs just to get through a day of misery in dealing with paperwork.