Disowned

Tonight I learned that my mother and I are no longer welcome in one of our relative’s homes. It is sad. It is the third member of my father's family to disown us since my father's passing. It is very difficult to bear. I have spent hours wearing out the front walk outside and consoling my mother, who was already disowned from her own family about 30 years ago. This particular member of the family has not even spoken to us or let us know of any shortcomings- they simply sent a note. My mom and I are heartbroken. I can't help but wonder what I have done to cause such a problem. I don't know if I am the cause of this or not. I feel sick. The kind of sick that doesn't go away with pepto. The kind that eats at you and is like a parasitic thought that takes over all your other thoughts. The kind that keeps you up at night and makes you second guess everything you have ever done.

It is amazing how absolute decisions can easily stem from hurtful comments made in anger or indignation which stem from misunderstandings. My friend John said it is like squeezing toothpaste; it is so easy to squeeze it out of the tube, but so hard to get it back in. While I hope for remediation and reconciliation from the problems that beset this person, I wonder if that toothpaste will ever get back in the tube. I know I have said some hurtful things in the past, at various times in my life to various people. Most of the things I regret saying were said in my anger and when I wasn’t being very rational. But all of my regret can't put that toothpaste back into the tube, can't take those words back, and, in the end, I had to deal with the consequences of my actions. While some relationships can be repaired well enough through quick remediation, tender care, and maintenance, others wither and die from years of neglect and desertion that can be caused by those hurtful comments. We have probably all seen that in some form or another throughout our lives. I know my father was always an advocate for unity. I can recall many feuds in my family, some pretty severe, where my father refused to take a side. He was an advocate for peace and unity and believed cool heads could prevail and misunderstandings could be rectified through well-intended and focused conversation. He was very wise in that regard. He kept his cool. He has made many unpopular decisions in his life, some of which caused rifts, but none which caused any significant destruction. Other people could have made the same decisions and met with severe conflict, but dad just had a way of communicating with others that seemed to be an art. He kept a cool head. He believed everyone was reasonable and just needed to understand, and if they didn't agree with him, they could agree that he believed it and they could still be friends. That’s why he had one of the greatest leadership traits of all- he could tell someone to go to hell and make them want to go. He was that good at handling conflict and dealing with people. He liked many people and was liked by many people. It was hard not to like him. Even people, who didn’t agree with him, still liked him! I think he could have been an excellent hostage negotiator if he ever wanted to pursue law enforcement.

I remember his negotiation of “forkfuls” of vegetables with Nicole at the dinner table when she was very young. They would negotiate! It was a very emotional matter for Nicole. Dad understood that she hated to eat them and she understood that he had to insist on it. They had an understanding between them. They met in the middle and I think those negotiations created a type of trust bond between the two of them that continued for the rest of their lives. It was about respect for each other. The negotiations and understandings between them started with "forkfuls" at the dinner table but later on in life it was about how late she could stay up, dating rules, driving, etc. But it really was no different.

Let me share another, much larger and grandier story along similar lines-

I recall one story which my father had told me. I asked him to put it on tape for me about ten years ago, and he did. I have since lost the tape (nice, huh?). I will tell it to you as best I can remember. My father had recently joined the National Guard (within 5 years). I don't recall how long he had been in or what his rank was at the time but he was stationed in a barrack as the leader of a platoon. Each man had a bunk and footlocker. There was one soldier in the group who was from the back woods. His name was ____ Wolf (I know his first name but won't say it). He didn't bathe or have any form of acceptable hygiene. He was not liked by the men at all. He kept to himself most of the time. He was very unpopular. The men treated him badly. They gave him a GI shower which involved using a firehose and a painful scrub-brush. It was not something that would probably be tolerated in the Army today (or would it?). Suddenly Mr. Wolf started volunteering for ammo detail- which was one of the worst details you could get and involved scrounging around the ammo dump. The last night of their training the men were to go out on maneuvers. They only use blank ammunition when they are on maneuvers. One of the men mentioned to my Dad that he thought Mr. Wolf was hoarding live ammunition in his foot locker. Dad didn't have much time to figure this out as the men were leaving. Dad went and confronted Mr Wolf at his footlocker. Mr Wolf refused to let Dad look in his footlocker. (Invading a soldiers footlocker is a serious breach of privacy and carries significant penalties). But my father had an entire platoon of men under his command, for which he was responsible. He weighed his options. Despite the penalties, my father insisted on searching the footlocker. Mr. Wolf refused and blocked the locker with his body and called for my Dad's C/O. My Dad physically removed Mr. Wolf from the foot-locker (my father was a competing power-lifter at the time) and opened it up to reveal strings of live ammunition that Mr. Wolf was planning on using that evening to exact revenge on his fellow soldiers. Can you believe that? I don't think my father was reprimanded for his actions but I know he wasn't hailed for them, either. I learned a lot from that story, the least of which is that psychological disorders and live ammunition make for a vicious cocktail. My Dad found himself in a position where he had to make a decision, however unpopular it may be. He made it, he stuck to it. I wonder if people would have felt differently about him if he had found nothing out of the ordinary in that foot locker. Would that have made any difference at all?? So many people in life I think are quick to accuse, to send hurtful remarks, or to cast judgment, but how many of them are the ones standing in front of the footlocker? It is pretty hard to understand why people feel the way they feel and do the things they do without being in their shoes. Likewise how can we really comprehend what was going through Mr. Wolf's mind???? Understanding is one of the most important aspects of communication.


Drastic actions cause drastic consequences and they are not easily undone. Can you imagine what would have happened if Dad did not intercede? If he just figured no one was crazy enough to do that? If he figured he didn't want to get on the C/O's radar and just decided to cower away and leave the whole thing alone? If he had, it would have been understood and he would not have been faulted. Obviously we are all glad for what he did. He saved his own life and the life of his men. He probably also saved Mr. Wolf's life and I am sure he got the help he needed after that encounter. I think a lot of these types of actions must go unadvertised through the media. I think the Military takes care of its own problems. I have heard other stories from my father as he was on tank ranges and in drills that would have been excellent fodder for CNN primetime but instead it only received only casual conversation at the dinner table over a large cheese pizza and rootbeer.

The moral of this post:

We should not be so quick to create a tear bigger than we can mend.

Note to Megan: look in your old desk- the one Alex scratched his name in (and ruined it forever)