Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire
I'm living with my Alzheimer's Dad, while fighting for my daughter in another state. Fun!
Preface: I write. A lot. I grew up around English nerds and became one myself and there you have it. I kept on and moved from humanities to the business school so I’ve seen both sides of a coin. I’m 55 years old now and several generations have appeared since I was born, as well as multiple cultures that weren’t prevalent throughout my life. I also grew up around the “non-scholastic.” Which has created a strange life.
It’s especially interesting to me when considering this:
literacy statistics for the US:
54% of adults have a literacy level below 6th grade
20% of adults have a literacy level below 5th grade
44% of adults do not read a book in a year
130 million adults are unable to read a simple story to their children
Low levels of literacy cost the US up to $2.2 trillion per year
The US ranks 36th in literacy.
Let me go ahead and state for the record that this is the first in a series of posts that are going to seem to swerve all over the road. But I assure you they eventually merge to form a coherent life. They’ll present the many variables in a life with scale and scope. Which is mine, if you didn’t pick up on that. I also have a dry sense of humor. But I have a big one, thankfully.
I’ll begin where I am now: in the room I grew up in. I’m now age 55, with my dad in the room down the short hall. He has it locked and his 2 filthy large dogs and a cat somewhere in there. That’s how he lives and prefers things. Over the decades since moving here this house has become a decayed stump. Nothing works. And it’s filthy. There has been no maintenance, only emergency repairs that are half-assed. And the rest has been allowed to die: the HVAC, appliances, plumbing, electricity, wood rot, and the rest.
I moved home a couple of months ago from Louisville, KY, after 14 years up there. I hated it. I moved up there so my now ex-wife could get her dream job. She did, and shortly thereafter took our daughter and vanished without a word and has a lawyer shielding her from society. Which is best, but unfortunately she’s held our daughter hostage for over 4 years now, so she can’t talk. She has her first daugher, my ex-stepdaughter I lovingly raised for 10 years, now “watching” my daughter. That pretty much says it all.
I’m in Quinby, SC now, which is a small town outside of Florence, SC, in the northeast quadrant, about an hour from the coast. I grew up here when we moved here in 1978. I was 8/9 years old. It was a much different place. I was born in Atlanta. I’ve never met another person born in Atlanta as long as I’ve lived, interestingly. Everyone was born out in the suburbs. But I was born right on Peachtree St. in midtown at Crawford W. Long Hospital.
What we have now here in Quinby is an EV battery plant being built, slated for completion in 2027, down the road. This used to be the absolute sticks, and still is to some degree, but that’s rapidly changing due to that multi-billion dollar project. It’s interesting to watch.
I used to walk home from school everyday, and sometimes to school in the morning. After athletics, around 5pm each weekday with all my books and athletic gear. It’s a private school founded in the 60’s. It was all-white when I attended. Not for any particular reason. That’s just how it came to be because of the area. But during Black Lives Matter and the “Wokeness” of some people the board changed it. Renamed, it, trashed all the trophies and awards won over the decades, and now pander to blacks. It’s named after a slave now that did nothing but be a slave, and has no real history in the area. It no longer is about scholarship but “hope” and “change.” Unbelievable. No one goes to remotely the same caliber Universities they did when I attended. If the graduates go at all now. I don’t mean to sound racist explaining what happened. Those are the facts. It actually is racist if you look at it the other way around. But I don’t care about superficialities as some do.
Gentrification and I can envision annexation eventually of this town, which would be a shame in many respects. I don’t know why people want to add layers of government and expense to their lives. That’s how Louisville was. It’s a series of towns within a city and the taxes are super high and the services are super bad. And I don’t mean that in the slang way.
But in the decades since moving here, lots has changed, and lots hasn’t.
My mother died from leukemia when I had just turned 14. That left me in my dad’s hands, which was precarious to say the least. My maternal grandfather thankfully took things over. My father was a raging alcoholic, which only became worse until when he had to get a liver transplant. That was in the mid 1990’s. I’ve never known or heard of the man working an honest day and he hasn’t my adult life I know. We’ll get to him, eventually because he’s a responsibility of mine now. He can’t take care of himself. He’s doesn’t have to have his diaper changed yet, but it’s not far off. He’s a walking hazard/liability now, which is enough for anyone to contend with.
I was almost a psychology major in college. I graduated from the University of South Carolina with a major in English and a minor in Business Administration. I was a media arts major and didn’t know what I was doing because I had no help and didn’t know where to go for help because I didn’t even realize I needed help. I was used to being on my own, as I had been since age 13. I’m an only child and only grandchild. My mother’s family had some issues but overall was a very successful group of people. My grandfather especially, who helped raise me thankfully. My father’s family? Not so much. My grandfather and grandmother were both alcoholics, as is my father. His father died somehow(no one has ever really said how except my dad, who told some gruesome retaliatory story I could have done without and now don’t believe). I’m sure it had to do with alcohol, the way it’s been handled, which is covered up.
Anyway, my dad was 1, his brother was 2 and my aunt was still in utero. And had no money, in the 1940’s in southern Ga. But she was hot. So she married a wealthy banker. Unfortunately, the man didn’t raise her kids. So they were on their own, the daughter followed her mother’s footsteps and my uncle went into the service and was pretty smart. My dad? He goofed off until he had no other option but to enlist in the Army and risk his life in Vietnam. Twice. And now wears a Che Guevara T-shirt around. Things went well for him when my mother was alive. But when he had to take care of himself, the wheels fell off. And I was lucky enough to be rescued before things got really ugly. And they were pretty bad from all appearances.
I knew my dad never graduated from college. I now wonder if he graduated from high school. I say that objectively. He never discusses it, which is a clue. I don’t care because I know lots of uneducated people, but at least own up to it. It’s not a measure of your worth, but it does impact the level you’re able to communicate, especially as a receiver. A good listener will be able to translate and ask questions, but poor receivers won’t. They’ll make assumptions and fill in gaps with imagination, which is usually inaccurate. Highly, as we get older.
Remember: I have studied enough psychology to have a major in it, and it’s now a life-long hobby of mine. Plus, I’ve spent years with therapists(psychiatrists, not psychologists) and discussed much with them about these people. So this isn’t my opinion. No one’s interested in my opinion. But I have a lot of insight and entertaining stories, which I want to share. Even if you can’t share the experience, it’s amazing to realize this exists out there, and people are dealing with it every second.
I’m going to end this here. I’m trying to decide whether to write this long-form or a series of passages. It doesn’t matter to me. I just like to write, and I would like to think that one day my daughter may even read this.
If you have a preference, please let me know.