Acceptance

Charley’s Tale Part 6

Marzell was back in ten minutes.  “I don’t guess I can go.  Mom said we didn’t move the fishing poles and tackle box.

“That’s okay,” Charley reassured her.  “We’ve got plenty.  Sometimes we all go.  If Ginny catches us, she’ll have to tag along, so we’ll take an extra for her.  You can dig a few worms while I fetch the gear.  Don’t run off squealing.”

“I’ll be fine.  I eat worms for breakfast!”  Marzell quipped.

Charley ran in just long enough to get some pants on  and yell to Cora.  “Cora,  I’m going fishing.  Tell Ginny to come on down if she wants to.”

“Okay, but don’t be late for supper.  Here’s a couple of apples to hold you over.”

“Better make it three, Cora.  A friend is with me.” Charley told her.  Cora smiled to herself, glad to know Charley had a companion.  It had been a long time.  Ginny burst in the back door, banging her books on the kitchen table.  “Ginny, I ‘m going fishing.  Come on down to the creek if you want to.”

“Okay!” Ginny answered as she grabbed a couple of cookies.

The girls dropped their lines off a five foot embankment into to sandy-bottomed creek.  Small sunfish were tempted by the worms dangling before them, but were too small to get the bait n their mouths.  Occasionally, a nice white perch took interest and was added to the stringer.  Eventually, seven white perch and a catfish hung in the cool water.  “I’d better get home for supper,” Marzell announced, starting to get things together.

“Can you stay for supper?” Charley asked.  “Cora always cooks my fish for me.”

“I’ll have to ask Mother.” Marzell replied.

As soon as they got back to Charley’s, Charley told Cora they had fish to cook.  “I thought you might.” Cora laughed.  I’m just about to put some chicken on to fry.  Bring me them fish as soon as they cleaned and I’ll fry them up for you.  Marzell, call your mama and ask if it’s okay for you to stay to supper.”

Cora set an extra place for Marzell and set a sizzling platter of fried chicken and fish In front of Charles and the girls.  “Dr. Charles, you can thank the girls for this nice mess of fish.  Charley, you know catfish is my favorite, so I am taking that one home for my supper.  Next time, you’d better catch two if you want one.  You girls don’t forget to clear away and I’ll do the dishes in the morning.”

Charles was delighted Charley had a guest, but was careful not to make much of it.  “I thank you girls for the fish.  I could each fish every night.  Maybe you’d better go every day.”

“I’d a heap rather fish very day than go to school,” Charley answered.

“Me, too!” said Marzell.  “School can be a pain.”

Charley’s Tale Introduction

This is the first episode in a serial I posted several years ago. I am dusting it off, Charley tugs at my heart, reminding me,”Don’t shut me out! I have a story to tell.”

The outsider looking in could have been forgiven for assuming Charley was born to a life of ease. Unfortunately, things don’t always work out that simply. True, she was the much-hoped for daughter born to a prominent couple, her father a doctor and mother a wealthy socialite. She knew the joy of two adoring older brothers, an admiring little sister, a doting grandmother, and a cousin who left her a valuable estate.
Given that mix, the fates dusted in a bit of trouble to complicate the life to which she was destined. At birth, the father who delivered her, noted an oversized clitoris which he snipped before presenting her to her mother, thinking he’d spared her a life of confusion. Unfortunately, it had just the opposite result. Gender identification goes a lot deeper than outward appearances, as he learned over time.

Not only that, Ellen, Charley’s narcissistic mother was repulsed by her perceived imperfection of her child. Ellen and Charley never bonded due to her mother’s rejection. Little Charley was cherished by the rest of the family and nurtured by Cora, the family’s maid. Her grandmother and Cousin Jean adored her. Early on Grandmother Geneva and Cousin Jean recognized the child’s nature and allowed her the freedom to express it.

Charley’s nebulous connection to her mother was severed on the occasion of her baby sister’s birth. Ellen developed post-partum psychosis, attempted murder, and lived out the short period of her remaining life in a state hospital. Unresolved psychic trauma was to follow Charley from that point on.

Life has never been easy for an intersexed child. It was likely for a well-meaning surgeon to assign the child a female identity, if anything at all was done. Unfortunately, this was as apt as not to be wrong. So it was for Charley. The child who would have been celebrated as a robust little boy was expected to behave as a dainty little girl. The confusion was overwhelming. From the time Charley’s mother went into the asylum, Cora and Grandmother Geneva assumed maternal roles with both girls. Geneva and the children passed the long summer weeks at the farm and the lake house where Geneva encouraged Charley’s relationship with the Washington family who maintained the farm, knowing they’d likely be in her life for years. They were good people.

Josie, the girl who’d helped cared for the girls since Ginny’s birth had married Bobby Washington who’d grown up working the farm along with his father Robert. Since the dairy barn was no longer in use, Geneva gave Robert permission to tear it down and salvage the materials to build a cabin for the newlyweds on the land Cousin Jean left him. They worked evenings till a tin-roofed three-room shotgun house stood proudly under a pecan tree with the requisite toilet about one hundred feet down the hill. It was close enough Bobby and Josie could share the older folk’s well. It was a fine thing for a young couple to start out with a house on eighty acres they could look forward to inheriting one day.

Life was a succession of peaceful days till school attendance required Charleys to spend her days at her father’s house. Cora was devoted to both girls, spending a great deal of time with them, serving as a buffer to Ellen. Geneva lived just a few blocks over, so they frequented her home as well. Charley enjoyed several years of relative peace till she reached the age of cruelty.

Charley’s Tale Part 3

School become a hostile place for Charley. When boys and girls started pairing off, Charley found herself on the outside. Finding no particular boy attractive, she was confused to hear girls continuously chatter “Johnny, David, or Mark is cute.” None of them were cute to her. They were just boys, no different than last month or last year. Wanting to fit in, she offered up the observation, “Robert is cute.” The snide group burst into laughter, ridiculing her and Robert. Apparent, the skinny red-headed lad hadn’t made the standard cute list. Sing-song shouts of “Charley loves Robert” rang to the treetops. Bashful Robert was humiliated to find himself the focus of the girls’ ridicule and fled the crowd. From then on he avoided Charley like the plague. Shame and rejection darkened her perception of herself. She withdrew, feeling it was as though she had a target on her back. The meaner of her tormentors them resurrected stories about her mother’s madness and labeled her “Crazy Charlsie!” The torment was relentless.

The Barnes children from next door were as familiar to Charley as breathing, a bright spot in her desert. The twin boys were a year older and Julia a year younger. They’d played cops and robbers, ball, ridden bicycles and built a treehouse together. When the darkness descended at school, she depended even more on their friendship. They were always able to take her mind off the confusing changes she faced. With Charley approaching puberty, Mrs. Barnes sought to put some distance between Charley and the boys. She forbade horseplay and physical contact, fearing it would awaken young sexuality. This abrupt change confused Charley further. One morning after a sleepover, Mrs. Barnes went in to wake the girls for breakfast and found Charlie’s arm draped cozily Julia, signaling the end of their close friendship.

One morning Charley didn’t come down when Cora called her for breakfast. Cora found her in the bathroom staring dully at her bloodstained panties. “I’m dying, Cora. Why is this happening to me? You’d better call my father.” She spoke in a monotone.

“Aw Lawdy, Honey. You ain’t dying. You just got the curse. That means you can have a baby now. Don’t you let no boys be kissing you. You gonna bleed a few days ever’ twenty-eight days now till you ’bout forty. You’ll git used to it. I meant to talk to you ‘fore it happened an’ it done slipped up on us. Let me get you a pad and belt an’ I’ll show you what to do.” Cora thought she was comforting Charlie.

Charley was appalled at this unwelcome news. “I don’t want to be a woman. What if somebody finds out about this? I ain’t going to school. Everybody already laughs at me. I wish I could just run off somewhere and live by myself. I can’t stand this!” Charley wailed.

“Yes, you can! Won’t nobody know if you don’t tell ’em. Ain’t no way nobody would as long as you keep your pad changed an’ don’t slip up an’ soil yourself. You need keep a spare pad in your purse. If you start at school, you can get one from the gym teacher.” Cora continued her talk. “You can’t swim, take a bath, ner wash you hair during your period or you might make it stop. Be real careful not to go out barefooted with dew on the ground, neither. That’s the worst. I had a friend once that done all that an’ once she finally had chillun’ ever’ one of ’em had fits. You know what fits is, don’t you? You wouldn’t want to do nuthin’ to make yore pore little chillun’ have fits, would you?” Cora waxed colorful in her warnings as Charley’s spirits hit the dirt.

“Cora, I never carried a purse in my life. Can you imagine all the laughing if if start dragging a purse a few days a month? There ain’t no way I could ask the gym teacher for nothing. She hates me. How can I go to school if I can’t take a bath? I’ll just stay home if I get another curse and you don’t need to worry about me kissing a boy! I’d sooner kiss a pig than that mean bunch up at school. I ain’t gonna marry so there ain’t gonna be no kids to have fits.” Charley was working up a good mad as though Cora was responsible for the insult of her menstrual cycle.

“Charley, ain’t no use in carrying on so over God’s doing. Now you just git yourself ready an’ git on to school. Take a pad with you an’ you’ll do fine. You can put it in your lunch bag an’ leave it in your locker to change after lunch. Now, scoot!”

With a miserable scowl, Charley collected her things and stomped out the back door furious at Cora, herself, and the world.

Charley’s Tale Introduction

This is the first episode in a serial I posted several years ago. I am dusting it off, Charley tugs at my heart, reminding me,”Don’t shut me out! I have a story to tell.”

The outsider looking in could have been forgiven for assuming Charley was born to a life of ease. Unfortunately, things don’t always work out that simply. True, she was the much-hoped for daughter born to a prominent couple, her father a doctor and mother a wealthy socialite. She knew the joy of two adoring older brothers, an admiring little sister, a doting grandmother, and a cousin who left her a valuable estate.
Given that mix, the fates dusted in a bit of trouble to complicate the life to which she was destined. At birth, the father who delivered her, noted an oversized clitoris which he snipped before presenting her to her mother, thinking he’d spared her a life of confusion. Unfortunately, it had just the opposite result. Gender identification goes a lot deeper than outward appearances, as he learned over time.

Not only that, Ellen, Charley’s narcissistic mother was repulsed by her perceived imperfection of her child. Ellen and Charley never bonded due to her mother’s rejection. Little Charley was cherished by the rest of the family and nurtured by Cora, the family’s maid. Her grandmother and Cousin Jean adored her. Early on Grandmother Geneva and Cousin Jean recognized the child’s nature and allowed her the freedom to express it.

Charley’s nebulous connection to her mother was severed on the occasion of her baby sister’s birth. Ellen developed post-partum psychosis, attempted murder, and lived out the short period of her remaining life in a state hospital. Unresolved psychic trauma was to follow Charley from that point on.

Life has never been easy for an intersexed child. It was likely for a well-meaning surgeon to assign the child a female identity, if anything at all was done. Unfortunately, this was as apt as not to be wrong. So it was for Charley. The child who would have been celebrated as a robust little boy was expected to behave as a dainty little girl. The confusion was overwhelming. From the time Charley’s mother went into the asylum, Cora and Grandmother Geneva assumed maternal roles with both girls. Geneva and the children passed the long summer weeks at the farm and the lake house where Geneva encouraged Charley’s relationship with the Washington family who maintained the farm, knowing they’d likely be in her life for years. They were good people.

Josie, the girl who’d helped cared for the girls since Ginny’s birth had married Bobby Washington who’d grown up working the farm along with his father Robert. Since the dairy barn was no longer in use, Geneva gave Robert permission to tear it down and salvage the materials to build a cabin for the newlyweds on the land Cousin Jean left him. They worked evenings till a tin-roofed three-room shotgun house stood proudly under a pecan tree with the requisite toilet about one hundred feet down the hill. It was close enough Bobby and Josie could share the older folk’s well. It was a fine thing for a young couple to start out with a house on eighty acres they could look forward to inheriting one day.

Life was a succession of peaceful days till school attendance required Charleys to spend her days at her father’s house. Cora was devoted to both girls, spending a great deal of time with them, serving as a buffer to Ellen. Geneva lived just a few blocks over, so they frequented her home as well. Charley enjoyed several years of relative peace till she reached the age of cruelty.

Grandpa and I /Guest Post from Erika Kind

I am so delighted that my friend Erika Kind agreed to do a guest post for me.  I have read and enjoyed hearing of the wonderful, warm relationship she had with her grandfather.  Wouldn’t it be a wonderful world if we all had a person with whom we share unconditional love and the bond that is never broken?

Grandpa and I

My grandfather was born 1927 as the only child of his parents. As far as I know he had a happy childhood. But his good times ended before he was even 20 years old when he was conscripted for WW II. He often told us about the war, his struggles in captivity and starving till he was just skin and bones. My grandfather was Austrian.   After Hitler invaded Austria they had to fight for Germany.  At the end of the war when all the horrible facts were revealed to the general public, he was shocked to no end to learn what he had been forced to fight for. Due to infections and lack of food, he developed cirrhosis of the liver which eventually killed him. My grandfather was a policeman all his life,. He was living and working in Vienna. Here is a photo of him with his father. Grandpa and Father

My “Opapa”, as we called him, was a tall, handsome man. He was married twice. His first wife was my mom’s mother. They got divorced when my mother (also an only child) was 11. When I was born, I was his pride and joy. I am sure that we are true soul mates. We had this certain connection. He was a young grandpa at the age of 43. When I was about 5 months old my parents moved with me to another part of the country about 600 km away from Vienna. Afterwards, I only saw my grandfather when he came for vacation for two weeks a year or when we went to Vienna for 3 weeks during the summer break. Grandfather Handsome That’s me and grandpa. Grandpa and Baby Erika My grandfather did everything for me. He always knew how to cheer me up when I was mad or sad. I loved the way of making me laugh, imitating voices and roles of popular comedians. He loved music. We always sang as we walked through the woods. He also kept me entertained imitating instruments like drums and trumpets. He built a huge model railroad layout for me, though it took him years since he could only work on it during his two week vacation with us. Grandpa knew everything about the Austrian history, really EVERYTHING! Whenever we walked around Vienna, went to a museum, or visited a castle or burg, he was like a historic almanac. Of course he not only knew about the historic persons and how everybody was related, but all the data of all happenings. Naturally, I did not appreciate it a bit. As a child or teenager, I did not listen, finding it boring.  Only days after he had died, a question about history came up. I reflexively thought I could ask Opapa… and started crying the next moment. During my teenage times I pulled back and didn’t talk a lot. I was in a lot of pain and didn’t let anybody in, not even my grandfather. I know that I was not nice at times and even mean. Grandfather never ever said one single word. He never acted hurt or annoyed. Never! I guess he was the only person in my whole life who never made me feel guilty. He just let me be. Five days before he died he called my mother. I was planning a visit a week later and he wanted to catch up with data. He wasn’t well at that moment and I am pretty sure he knew what was coming. When he called I was waiting for my sister to get ready for our Volleyball practice. We were already late. I did not take the call and just told my mom what to tell him. In the end I could have taken the call because they ended it before I left.  I missed my last opportunity to hear his voice. It took me many years to forgive myself for missing this chance. My grandfather died in 1990 at the age of 62.  In my mind, I still see his smiling face and  his curly grey hair going weird in the wind.  I still see the way he was dressed, the way he walked and moved and hear his special laughter.   Most of all I still feel his loving spirit!Grandpa         Erika for post