Who Are You Meant to Be?

Besides being a Go-Go dancer and a long haul truck driver, I thought it would be cool to be a gypsy. I imagined myself with long dark curling hair, exotic features accented with black kohl, and wearing peasant blouses, flowing skirts, sandals with gold bangle bracelets jangling on my wrists. I would sing and dance by firelight and play sorrowful tunes on the violin. I would travel with my gypsy family from place to place meeting so many people and then moving on; always moving on.

Reality is a kick in the butt. I don't have long flowing curls or exotic features. I can't sing well or dance without tripping and the violin? I don't have the time or patience to learn. I am married to a man who has roots sunken so deep, we will never leave for more than a two vacation. I have tried wearing the flowing skirts but I shut one in a door once and flashed quite a lot of people in the Wal*Mart parking lot. Bangle bracelets while pretty, bug me because they bangle around and won't stay still. I really don't wear any jewelry at all, including a wedding ring. I am a stay at home mom and having a hard time finding fulfillment in that calling. I am grateful for this time with my kids but I find myself longing for more. I talked with my husband about going back to school. The question always comes up about what degree to pursue and I always draw a blank. I just want to go to school and take the classes that sound interesting. Unfortunately, in order to get a degree I need to take a few math classes and that doesn't interest me at all. I would be a lifelong student with no degree to my name and no career to go after. The only plus to this education is that I might be able to play Trivial Pursuit better. Ben doesn't really have a problem with me going to school but I think not having a clear goal in mind goes against his grain and I cannot justify the cost of the classes I want to take 'just because.' However...

The other day I was in CVS and impulsively bought the November '09 issue of "O" (Oprah) magazine. If you haven't read one, I have to say it is one of the better magazine out there. In my opinion anyway. The tag line that caught my attention read: How to Talk So People Will Listen-4 Ways To Make Yourself Heard". I thought to myself that might come in handy. I still haven't read the article. Instead I went to the article 'Who Are You Meant to Be? A step-by-step guide to finding and fulfilling your purpose+28 questions that will change the way you see yourself." I thought this would be an interesting exercise in trying to figure out what I want to be when I 'grow up.'

First, my eldest daughter Olivia took the quiz "Who Am I Meant to Be?"and to no one's surprise got the result 'Striving to Be In Control." The first line in the description reads, "You approach everything as though you were born to be in charge." It goes on and on about her being 'confident, assertive decisive....no fear of confrontation...generously donating time and energy." Some of what this style of personality needs to be aware of is the tendency to 'become confrontational and domineering, sometimes to the point of being dictatorial." I told her Dad and he wasn't the least bit surprised. No one who knows Olivia would be surprised by that. She admits it. Ben took the quiz and got the same result. Need I point out that no one is surprised by that either? The fact that they both want to be in control explains a lot about their explosive relationship. He is fond of teasing us with the proclamation that "This (our family) is not a democracy! It is a DICTATORSHIP!" To which I generally mutter something about him being the Head Dic...or vice versa. Ben is also fond of telling me he is God's gift to women. I suppose if God really does have a sense of humor and I think he does, Ben could be a gag gift. I have visions of taking him to the church women's Christmas party as a White Elephant gift. I would bring him in, with a bow on his head and set him at the gift table with strict instructions to keep quiet so someone would pick him and maybe I could get the pretty candle set for the mantle.

I took the quiz next and fully expected to get results like 'Striving to be a Nurturer' or 'Striving to Be Creative.' Instead, to my surprise I received the result "Striving to Be Knowledgeable." When I read that my first impression was that it was a joke, especially since the first line read: You are an intellectual. (shh, I'm not really that smart, I bluff pretty well.) It went on to say "Incisive and curious, you are driven to understand how things work. But that's things, not people. Oh, your family and friends are important; it's just that you don't need to spend hours engaging with them." I thought to myself 'nope that is wrong.' but the more I thought about it, the more I had to admit it could be true. Not the part about me being an intellectual, that part still makes me laugh, but the part about keeping a distance from people. I actually am very guilty of that. As long as the basics are covered and everyone is happy, I am fine. I don't need to know every detail of every one's life. Mostly, I don't really want to know. That doesn't mean I don't care or can't keep a secret, if someone needs me too. I think the reason I can keep a secret so well is that I zone out when someone is telling me and only hear part of it anyway. My sister once told me I frustrated her so much as a teenager because I would have a great boyfriend and when things were going very well, I would break up with him. She could never understand why, nor could I. Perhaps I am uncomfortable with people knowing too much about me. Maybe I am afraid that if they really knew me they wouldn't like me. That sounds morbid but it is better than my visions of putting out a 'hit' on Ben simply because the man' knows too much.' That is so horrible but it is the truth. The article said I should balance my "cerebral tendencies with physical activities, like jogging, hiking or dance". (snort!) The article also mentioned I should discover who I am 'meant to be by accumulating insight and knowledge' and I should 'follow (my) curiosity.'

I am still having a hard time wrapping my brain around the idea of spending money to take a class simply because but maybe by taking a class in art history or creative writing I could find what I am meant to do and be and perhaps I'll have enough incentive to get those stinking math classes out of the way so I can get that diploma.

A Weekend in the Life of Olivia (a.k.a. Olivia, the spider and the Iron Man Gang)

On Friday night, while babysitting for some friends, Olivia walked unsuspecting to her car in order to get her pajamas from her bag. She was talking to her friend Andy on her phone at the time when she noticed 1’ from her face a large house spider on the ceiling of her car. She yelped and hit her head on the doorway of her car, leaving Andy to wonder what was happening. After treating him to the delightful sounds of the spider dance, she explained hesitatingly to him about her fear of spiders. I say “hesitatingly” because she also has a friend named Sean who is afraid of frogs and his pals waste no opportunity to throw frogs on him. Andy’s advice was to use the can of air freshener in the car to kill it. He may have meant to use the can to bash the thing but Olivia sprayed it instead. The spider didn’t like this of course and set about the death act. Olivia was shaken but triumphant that she has defeated the spider.

On Saturday, she spent part of the day with us at Anastasia State Park at the beach. We had planned a ‘September” birthday celebration. The day was perfect with the exception of all of the dead fish lining the beach, courtesy of the shrimpers just off the coast. Thanks guys! I digress. Unfortunately, Olivia had to return early to finish some online homework before going back to her babysitting job.

On the way home, Olivia noticed a large group of men on motorcycles complete with leather jackets that proclaimed them the “Iron Man Gang.”

From I-95 to Hastings, Olivia played a sort of ‘cat and mouse’ game with the gang passing and looking at her bikini clad self through the open window (no A/C). There was one particular member who stood out because his leather jacket appeared newly stitched with the gang’s logo and he was riding an ape [ ]. Somewhere around Federal Point, Olivia decided to pass the gang thinking to be rid of them but homeboy” broke formation and rode up behind her to tailgate for a quarter mile before pulling up along side her. After a few attempts at communication on his part, Olivia freaked out a little, checked her rear view mirror and seeing no one close behind, hit the brakes. He braked as well, throwing his arms up in the air as if to say ‘What the #*@@? and went back into formation. Shortly after this, Olivia made to turn off onto Cracker Swamp Rd followed by homeboy, who had ridden up behind her again. She was thinking of calling Dawn, pulling a ‘U’ie and heading back to the Murray house where the guns are ready and loaded, when he pulled back in line with the rest of the gang who passed by waving at her. She said she was shaking so back she has to use her left foot to control the gas and brake.

Remember the spider she killed the night before? Right! Well, on Sunday after church we were all loading up to go home when Olivia ran up to me and asked to drive the van home. I thought maybe her car was giving her trouble so I said I would. She was following me back to her car however and midway pulled off one of her heeled sandals, handed it to me and said “You might need this.” The spider was back. She noticed the spider on the ceiling over the back seat when she turned around to back out of her parking space. She didn’t panic at first, ‘only squeaked a little’ she said, then pulled back into her space before coming to get me. She did admit, however that she forgot to turn the motor off and unbuckle her seat belt before getting out of the car. After getting that sorted out and coming to get me she stood off to the side in a pretty sun dress and one shoe while I made like I was going to do away with it once and for all. She told me the spider was on the ceiling but I didn’t see it at first so I stuck my head cautiously into the car looking around and eventually found it (approximately the size of the palm of my hand) directly over my head, at which point I banged my head on the car, whipped around and ran into the car parked in the next spot. Following a good 5 second ‘spider dance’ accompanied by Olivia over on the sidewalk, I blindly banged her shoe onto the ceiling missing the spider. I tried a few more times not realizing that we had drawn the attention of a few of the other church members who were also leaving. Jeremy Hawkins drove by and gallantly allowed himself to be persuaded (he didn’t actually volunteer) to kill the spider. With shoe in hand, he banged repeatedly on the ceiling muttering something I couldn’t quite catch. The only word I understood was ‘FAST’ and yes, it was. I am happy to say the spider is well and truly dead now and Olivia was able to drive herself home without incident.

Don' shoot a nigga!

Palatka is an entertaining place to be if you just have the right attitude and pay attention. Mostly I don’t like living here but occasionally I am reminded that in other places where higher culture abounds, people like the man my daughters and I met tonight aren’t as prevalent.

Kelly is home visiting for the weekend and had decided she was starving, she usually does this after everyone else has eaten but since I don’t see her as much and since we had been out most of the evening I relented and stopped at a local pizza take-out.

We were sitting in the parking lot talking to our friend (who had the same idea for dinner) and waiting for the pizza to finish when a black man on a bicycle pulled up quickly next to Kelly’s open window and said “Don’ shoot a nigga!” To which I calmly and brilliantly replied “I can’t, I don’t have a gun.” I suppose , if we had possessed any common sense (which I now doubt) we should have been frightened but we just burst into laughter. The man lifted up his shirt and said “I don’ either but dat don’ stop you fum callin’ da Poh-leece and dey’ll shoot a nigga!” I shouldn’t have but I cracked up even more.

He spouted on more about the perils of being a black man much to our delight and at the end of it all he left with $3.25 (our total combined worth) and we were offered a blessing of safety and a good night.

My friend, thankfully, had the good sense to stay until he left and I noticed she had her cell phone out, ready to call in the “Poh-leece” if needed.

Dawn

My friend Dawn is going to have her baby today. She is four days past her due date and is in Flaglar Hospital to be induced. I should be with her but I am waiting for everything to get started. Actually her parents are there and I have low tolerance for them so I am waiting until the last minute to head over. For a little while now I have been hoping little Blake would hurry up and make his appearance but today is Open house at the school and College night at the high school and I am torn by my obligations. I promised Dawn I would be there and I will...I just wish I knew what time to go over. The pitocin drip (meds to start labor) won't be given until noon maybe so givien the fact that I didn't have a baby until 12 hours later myself, would it be ok to assume the same for Dawn and go to the kids schools or play it safe and be there anyway.

I am a person who believes in having cake and eating it. We'll see.

September 2, 2009

I have had a very busy last few weeks. My kids have started school and so have the early mornings. Ben, bless his heart has taken the early morning shift and I feel like such a lazy good for nothing. You know it is bad when your 8 year old asks before she goes to bed if you will make it out of bed to say good bye to her. YIKES!! I told her I would make it this morning but I didn’t. My problem is that I didn’t marry a man who snored but I am married to one now. It is funny because he doesn’t snore loud. If I fall asleep before Ben, all is well and the snoring doesn’t wake me but if he falls asleep before me it is better if I just get up and sleep elsewhere otherwise I’ll never get to sleep. I think I made it to sleep about 1am. Oddly enough, I can sleep through Ben snoring but not the cats. They wake me up at 5 every morning to go outside. I don’t know why they can’t wait until 5:30 when Olivia and Stephanie wake up but I don’t dare chance it. After getting up to deal with that I suppose it would be better if I just stayed up but I don’t. I try to go back to sleep and lay there listening to Ben snore. He gets up about 6 to get Stephanie on the bus and I fall asleep then. For some reason at that point, I sleep like the dead and cannot wake up. I am tired all day and have started trying to go to bed early. The problem with that is that I am a night owl so going to bed early doesn’t feel natural to me.

The kids are doing ok in school, I suppose. They don’t like it much but they never really have. Olivia loves being a senior but her day is finished usually around noon. Kelly likes her new school and though she misses home (and home misses her) I think she is really enjoying her time with her grandparents. I am going to Trenton on Friday to pick her up. It will be the first time we’ve seen her in about 3 weeks. Stephanie will be 14 years old on Friday. I think the girls are planning on going to the high school football game Friday night with a birthday party for Steph on Saturday.

My friend Dawn’s baby is due on Sunday. I think because I have so much to do on Friday and Saturday, baby Murray will decide to put in his appearance then. Why not, right? I am excited and honored to have been asked to help coach Dawn with her labor. She will do great though. She has practiced telling me to ‘shut up’ and saying ‘I hate you’ I shutter to think what she is training her husband Chad to hear. I am very proud of how Dawn has cleaned up her language in preparation for her motherhood but have teased her that I won’t be the bit surprised if her baby comes out cussing.

Today is Kelly’s first day at Trenton High School. She changed her mind when I was halfway to Trenton to sign her up for Bell. The reason for this is sound though. My mother works at BHS and while it would be great to be there, my mother is planning to retire at the end of this year. In choosing to go to THS, she will be at the same school as two of her cousins (Jamie, 9th grade and Madison, 6th grade). She is now a Trenton Tiger with her school colors Black and Gold.

We found out recently that the high schools in Gilchrist Co do not offer honors classes and this was disappointing because Kelly was due to take three honors courses. She did have the option of taking the classes online at FLVS (Florida Virtual School) but declined when she found out her other option was to take the same classes from the local community college and receive college credit for them. She took her College Placement Test (CPT) last Friday and scored well enough to allow her into the classes. Now, if we can just convince her to study more seriously than before.

On Saturday, we attended a baby shower for my very good friend Dawn Murray. She is due to have her first child on Sept. 6th and I have been honored with the request to be in the delivery room with her and her husband Chad (aka Bad Chad or Chadalisious). Olivia and Stephanie may be there as well. Stephanie’s job will be making the phone calls, Olivia’s job will be ice chips, even though they don’t do ‘squat’ (ref. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2). And I will be holding her hand trying to find the words to convince her that she will love through this and that she doesn’t actually hate her husband. Good times!

I just received a text from my Dad. “Your ‘little tigger’ has been dropped off @ Tigger School. She was a little nervous, but her cuz is showing her around.”

Can’t wait to hear how it goes and I probably won’t have to; chances are she will text me during lunch, or earlier.

I don’t usually have nightmares but I had one the other night. Little wonder as I am under a bit of stress at the moment. It is 5:30AM and I am still having trouble sleeping. I hope by writing it down and trying to piece it out, I will get some relief and maybe some sleep later. Here goes…

In the dream I am living with my husband and my three youngest kids in my childhood home in St. Aug. Across the street from me is a couple who is arguing. During the dream the man kills the woman and I witness it. As I am watching I realize the man knows what I have seen. I am in my house with the kids in a back room and while I am on the phone with the 911 operator (who doesn’t seem to care for anything but gossip as she knows the guy) dismisses my call for help. The man comes over, looks in the window of the front door and starts to threaten me and the kids. Meanwhile, my husband is standing in the garden next to a tree watching it all happen.

I woke up terrified telling myself it was only a dream, it isn’t real. I still can’t sleep because while I know it isn’t real, it still bugs me and I need to figure this out.

My childhood home in St. Aug was a place with happy memories and a sense of security. Across the street was a vacant lot that allowed me to see Matanzas Bay and watch the boats if I sat on the front porch steps (which I did, a lot). The only thing I can figure is that I dreamed of a place that was secure and the murder I witnessed was my peace of mind being destroyed. When the ‘man’ realized I saw what was happening, he came to confront me and maybe destroy a ‘witness’. I don’t know why there were only three kids. (Maybe it is because the older ones are leaving home shortly). The 911 operator on the phone acted as if she knew the guy and only wanted to know what he had done this time. She didn’t mention sending any help. As the man is threatening me, I remember seeing Ben standing and wondering why he didn’t protect us. Thinking back, it seems that while it was Ben, it was a younger version of Ben. He just stood there but he had a very intense look on his face. Perhaps he wanted to help but just didn’t know what to do.

This could be a very accurate description of my life right now. Or it could be a bunch of hooey. I suppose it depends on who you ask. I hope it helps and I will give it some more thought. I have to be awake in an hour to take kids to the orthodontist as well as school shopping and go with my mother-in-law to the Y to exercise and then we may have company for dinner. One last family meal before Kelly goes to Trenton. Hopefully I will be so exhausted I will be asleep before my head hit’s the pillow. Let’s hope so.

Kelly-She's going :(

I do not have a green thumb; in fact I can barely grow weeds. I am told that in order to grow a beautiful garden the plants take a lot of care, water, sunshine, nutrients etc. However my plants never grow. (This may have something to do with our mutt, Dipstick) Sometimes, however, despite all the care given, if the soil and environment isn’t just right the flowers will wither and wilt. This seems to be the case with my Kelly.

She is going; my baby is flying the coop a little early and going to live with her grandparents in order to attend a different high school. Starting Monday, she will be a Bell Bulldog rather than a Palatka Panther. She will be wearing purple and gold rather than blue and gold. Tomorrow morning I will be going to Gilchrist Co. to hand over the paperwork that will give my parents temporary guardianship and give BHS the transcripts and PHS release forms. As a mom I think I should be crying but I am so excited for her.

Part of the problem at PHS is inappropriate grabbing in the halls. No surprise, Kelly HATES that. Her sister Olivia is generally able to thwart such behavior with ‘the look’ and Stephanie has been known to land a good solid punch and get away with it. (What boy wants to admit he got beat by a girl) but Kelly just wants to leave and find a safer environment. I have been assured that this type of behavior is not tolerated at BHS. Time will tell.

Talking to Kelly today, she sounds excited, nervous and happy to be going to a different high school. This makes me feel like I may have made the right decision for her. So. it is my hope that by replanting my little flower in different soil she will find all she needs to thrive. No more wilting flowers!

Kelly-Should she stay or should she go now?

My second oldest daughter , Kelly absolutely hates the high school she is assigned to. She has some friends but it doesn’t seem like that is enough to keep her happy there. She hates it and there is always Facebook and texting for friends. She has been spending the last week or so with my parents over in Trenton, FL and is having a good time. The schools in Gilchrist county (Trenton and Bell) are ALL considered “A” schools while the schools here in Putnam Co. are, well, down the list a bit. I am considering allowing Kelly to live with my parents and attend high school at Bell High School where my mother works. Trenton is 2 hours away so ‘dropping in’ to see her will not be easy. There is no soccer team for the school but there is for the recreation department. There is a track team and Kelly has talked about joining track. There is also Medical Skills. This is a series of classes she took her freshman year at Palatka High School and she can continue at Bell. I think this will be a good move for her but she is 15 and I can’t help but think that if I allow this she will one day feel like I gave her up. This has to be her decision, however, I feel like she will choose to stay in Trenton.

I feel awful in that I hope she does stay. Don’t get me wrong, I love my daughter very much and I will miss her terribly but because I love her, I want her to have a chance at a better education in an environment where she is comfortable. Everyone deserves that chance. I didn’t allow it with Olivia, my oldest but with Olivia’s personality, the adversity made her stronger. She is now the Student Council President. Olivia and Kelly, while both very intelligent have very different personalities and what works for one may not work for the other. I hope I am making the right decision.

The Object of My Desire

This is a short story I wrote one night when I couldn't sleep.

The Object of My Desire

As a professor teaching poetry in a small town I meet a lot people but I am rarely surprised by them. However, I have been reminded lately that surprises come because you think you know everything and so you aren’t prepared. I first met Sally, a slender, petite blond woman with a shy expression and tired blue eyes when she entered my classroom a few months ago. She was usually rushing in late, mumbling apologies and moving awkwardly to her seat in the back of the classroom. She was married I knew from her records and had a few kids which might have accounted for her tardiness and though she rarely spoke in class discussions, she was always watching, as though trying to absorb everything. She didn’t take notes and her tests grades were average. I asked another student who sat near her and sometimes spoke with her if there was a problem I should be aware of. The student shook her head no and told me Sally took the class to get out of the house for one evening a week. She said that ‘six years of children’s programs and books were starting to numb her brain’.

“She could do a lot better in my class” I told the student as we left the classroom and she replied,

“Oh, Sally doesn’t really care either way, she just needed to get out,” and walked out the door into the cool night.

At the end of the term I was frantic as usual trying to get papers graded and make-up tests finished when I heard a soft knock on my office door.

“Come in” I answered, thinking it was one of the many students coming in to complain about a grade or worse, a particular student who felt she could offer ‘favors’ in return for higher grades. This particular student was a nightmare and preparing myself for defense, I was startled to see Sally standing there.

“Dr. Johnson” she said quietly “I think I may have a test to make up?”

She still stood in the doorway and I ushered her in feeling annoyed at the intrusion. ‘Why now? Why does it matter now after all of these months’ I thought? Looking at the enormous pile of ungraded work on my desk and thinking of the “Lolita” that had just left my office with another proposal had left me on edge and I said sharply to Sally

“Fine, have a seat.”

She sat quietly looking around as I ignored her and after a few minutes asked if there was a test she could take. I just stared at her. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustrations on her but I did.

I said “The lecture you missed focused on desire” I lied. “You were to write a poem about that. Do you know anything about desire at all?”

She blushed and said softly “Maybe a little or rather I used too”

This was intriguing so I asked her to name qualities that would attract her. She thought for a moment and said

“Rich but not too much. Smooth and um, sweet?” she said as though she wasn’t sure.

“No ‘sense of humor’? Most women say that a sense of humor is important.” I asked.

“I don’t mind nutty, no.” she almost smiled.

“Ok then, write a poem about the ‘Object of your Desire’” I told her.

“Um, Now?” she asked.

“Yes, of course, now. This is your test.” I went back to grading more papers as Sally rummaged for a piece of paper in her enormous bag that I thought must contain everything needed for a third world disaster. Finally coming up with a rumpled sheet of paper and a pen she settled in and started writing. The pink tip of her tongue curled on her top lip as lines furrowed between her brows.

After about 20 minutes she handed the paper to me and looked at me strangely.

“It doesn’t rhyme.” She said looking down at the floor.

Not knowing what she wanted but curious about what this mouse of a woman could possibly know about desire, I started to read.

A dangerous game. “What if?”

I see you and you are unobtainable.

Do I want you because I can’t have you?

If I could, would you seem as beautiful?

Promises made to one I have sworn to love

And promises quietly broken.

Guilt eats at me and yet

Every time I see you, I want you more.

The back alleys of my mind

Are filled with images of you and me.

I hold you closely hidden

And close my mouth around you in ecstasy.

The sight of you tortures me.

The scent of you haunts me. The feel of you in my hands melts me

as it does you. The sounds you make kill me

And the flavor of you makes me glad of it.

My pulse races at the very sight of you.

I could have you. I know I could.

No one would ever know,

Except me.

A dangerous game, what if?

I sat, stunned. I looked at this small woman and wondered why the room was suddenly so warm. The collar of my shirt was tighter, and I found it difficult to breathe. I have always been good at words. It is my job to be and yet all I could manage was a sigh. Sally misunderstood its meaning and tried to apologize, mumbling something about a baby and teething and no sleep. She looked so ashamed. I wanted to reassure her but wondered how to reassure a married woman with children who wrote a poem about adultery. I was at a loss.

I finally stammered out “In your poem, the man…?”

She looked up suddenly and cocked her head to the side with one delicate eyebrow raised, “Man?”

Again I was paralyzed as a new wave of images formed in my mind.

“Who was this woman?” I thought and then replied as intelligently as I could’

“Uh…the man? In the poem”

Comprehension dawned on her and her laughter trickled over me in waves.

“Dr. Johnson? I recently had a new baby making me the mother of three. I have a good husband who loves me. I don’t have time to entertain another man.” she said, smiling.

“So, the object of your desire…? Promises made and broken…? Hiding? Imagination?” I sputtered.

She stood up smiling as she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. “I am also on a diet. Dr. Johnson, the object of my desire is the chocolate bar on your top shelf.”

She left me sitting there, smiling with her and I shook my head as I went back to grading papers.

Should have been the first post

I have never 'blogged' before so this is all new to me. I like to write and while some of the things I write are good, some are also garbage. I can't usually tell the difference. So I am going to start posting some of the writings, thoughts, short stories etc. here and hope for some feedback and criticism to help me learn a better or new way to get my thoughts out there. Also, I am hoping to use this as a way for family and friends to keep up the what is going on in my family. I should name that section "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly".

At some point I hope to have pictures posted. I am very proud of my family and I hope that they will also contribute from time to time.

Life for the Tilton family is fairly good. It could always be better but then it could also get a whole lot worse so believe when I say that while stressed sometimes...I am not complaining.

There is a lot to learn here and I am a little excited to get started.

Victim of Identity Theft

My sister-in-law was telling me the other day about a radio show host who said something to the effect of “if I hear one more ‘stay at home mom’ complain about wanting to BE somebody, I am going to slap her.” As a stay at home mom, I can appreciate what he is saying and I thank him for his compliment, however, I don’t think he fully grasps what we mean when we say that phrase.
When a little girl is born, she is given a name to be added to her father’s name and in time, as she grows, the name becomes her own. This name has always been with her and it is who she is. Through school, activities, friends and so on, any accomplishment has her name on it. It is her identity.
Some girls have rotten childhoods and not many accomplishments are awarded so maybe to them, changing a name is not such a bad thing. It might even be the best thing for them. This was not the case with me.
I was born Sara Sanford Hooker. (Spare your jokes, I have heard them before and made a few of them up myself.) My family loved me and despite the jokes, my name has always been a source of pride for me. Sandy Hooker had gymnastics, baton lessons, high school band, numerous friends and a lot of good times. Sandy Hooker was a good person. She was average height, average build, and average looks with average intelligence. She was friendly, fun and had good friends. Because of the group of people surrounding her she grew up secure enough that negative peer pressure wasn’t as difficult for her as it was for some. I don’t know that she was as good a friend as she could have been but that was a lesson learned later.
Despite a happy childhood, Sandy Hooker met a man at age 18, fell in love and was married three months before turning 20, ignoring the lessons her parents had taught her about finishing school and living on her own for awhile.
I miss her.
Getting married at 19 with no real education or experience being on my own is a scary, stupid thing. I didn’t know that at the time and could not know it because I was ‘in L.O.V.E.’ I was married for three days before someone , not related to me referred to me as Mrs. Tilton. It was the desk clerk at a hotel in Savannah, GA while Ben and I were on our honeymoon. I don’t know what the difference is between family saying it and a total stranger but it was a profound moment for me. At that moment, Sandy Hooker started to fade away, I just didn’t know.
At church with Ben, I was known to many as Sister Ben. Throughout town, I was Mrs. Ben. Twenty years later, it isn’t as bad but it still happens from time to time. I just grit my teeth and smile. As years passed, Ben and I had children and I became Olivia’s or Kelly’s or Stephanie’s or Bradley’s or Sophie’s mom. Nicknames have been ‘Tilton’ or ‘Tilt’. I began to suspect my problem during my last pregnancy when I was asked to fill out a form and part of the form asked me about my likes and dislikes. Another part of the form asked me about my hobbies. After completing and reading it over, I noticed that they were all Ben’s likes and dislikes, all Ben’s hobbies. I couldn’t say whether or not they were my own.
During the pregnancy of my fifth child I realized I had ‘lost myself.’ A term I had often laughed at in the past. How is it a person loses themselves, I wondered. It isn’t like losing a child in the store, that much I know but panic sets in just as much.
I have often considered what life would be like if I had kept my maiden name or at the very least added it to Ben’s name with a hyphen. How would he have felt? Some men consider it a great honor to give their name to the woman they love. To share their name is to share their identity and a large part of who they are. It is a way to express love and let everyone know that the two are one now. However, would Ben have loved me enough to take the name “Hooker”? I am not so sure of that. He has brushed off my questions saying that that isn’t the way things are so quit asking but still, I wonder. How would he have felt if I had insisted on keeping it for myself? Would he have been insulted? More than likely, I think. Would he have felt differently if my name had been ‘Smith’? The world may never know.
Any accomplishment I have had since marriage has had my married name attached to it, as if because of marriage, my accomplishment is his also. This may be true but where is my name in his accomplishments? It is no where and it won’t ever be.
This is what I mean by identity theft. I don’t think by marrying me, Ben set out to do away with me. I think he married me with all noble intentions and still does not understand why I feel this way. I am tired of trying to find old friends and having little success because they are married now and have changed names. How many have tried to find me with no success?
My name is what it is now and that is because of a choice I made. I tell my kids all the time that ‘while a person has the right to choose their actions, they don’t have the right to choose the consequences.’ This is one of the lessons learned that as a teenager meant next to nothing but has had an impact on my adult life. Many of the choices made when I was young didn’t have any affect until years later but as a teenager, I couldn’t see past graduation. It is my hope that my kids will take more care and consideration when making choices.
Maybe my problem is really not identity theft, it is more like ‘identity misplacement.’ The hard part now is going out to find it. So, kids, pray and listen to your elders, we aren’t as dumb as we look; and above all remember who you are at all times so you don’t wake up in a few years not knowing.
Sara Sanford (Hooker) Tilton

The St. Johns River

Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings is quoted in her novel ‘Cross Creek’ saying, “Because I had known intimately a river, the earth pulsed under me”.
Unfortunately, not everyone is given the opportunity to travel the river by boat and know the ebbs and flows intimately; but to be near the flowing water and listen to the calls of distant birds or watch the heron take flight or witness the bald eagle swoop down to grab an unsuspecting fish and glide away to her nest; to spy an alligator as he surfaces or see turtles tumble from fallen limbs where they have been sunning themselves or to be able to catch a rare glimpse of a manatee as she and her calf swim lazily to the side of the boat and roll to have their bellies rubbed are experiences that I and my family have had because we have been blessed to live near the St. Johns River.
One does not need to own a boat or live on the river to appreciate its beauty and dignity. It is a part of us all. Whether a person realizes it or not, the calming effect of the river’s current is crucial to all of us. Just crossing the bridge and seeing the ever flowing, continuance of this ancient river is reassuring to me that although times are changing and progress never ends, the St. Johns river is one thing that stays consistent.
When my daughter Kelly was two years old she played a game with our family that we still catch ourselves playing from time to time, even now. When crossing from East Palatka into town, she would announce “It’s a BEAUTIFUL river today!” It didn’t matter if it was glassy or white capped, to her it was always beautiful. We then knew we had one mile to try and name all that could be found in the river. Bass, alligators, turtles, moccasins, manatees, arrowheads, sunken boats, and bones generally topped the list followed by sharks, whales and mermaids.
George Sand wrote, in “La Mare au Diable”: “Nature possesses the secret of happiness and no one has been able to steal it from her”. In the past few years we have had opportunities to go out on the river, whether by boating with friends or in my daughter Stephanie’s case, fishing with the Junior Angler’s Bass Club. It was Stephanie who, while fishing one morning found herself and her fishing partners surrounded by a family of manatee who would rub themselves up against the boat and roll over to be scratched. We have so many happy memories in the St. Johns and our love of the river has increased because we are able to see it up close and be a part of it. It is my hope that my children and my children’s children will also have the opportunity to fall in love with the natural beauty of the St. Johns, to feel the earth pulse underneath their feet and to one day hear sweet voices declaring “it’s a BEAUTIFUL river today”.