Peter Harvey Wheeler
I only had my Dad for 16 years. A lot of those years were filled with heart ache because he had a drinking problem. His Father was overseas at war while my Grandmother was in her nineth month of pregnancy with my Dad. Grandpa Wytnick died overseas and my Grandmother's heart died with him. They were so in love. They also had a daughter whom I am named after. Charlie was a friend of my Grandpa Wytnick and he married my Grandmother because she couldn't be on her own with 2 small children. The marriage was okay but then she began having his babies and he took a dislke toward my Dad.
Polio struck my Dad when he was nine years old and his step-dad used to horse-whip my Dad because he was sluggish and not keeping up to his chores. Dad grew up a pretty bitter man. Now he had 2 sisters and 3 brothers. Dad left home and sought a living at sawmills and other odd jobs and then he met my Mother and they married.
Mom & Dad had three girls, my sister Doreen (10 yrs old) and Linda (9 yrs. old). I was 2 years old and do not remember anything. My sister fell ill with a brain tumor and died. This tragedy threw my parents into a tailspin of pain and sorrow. My first memory was at five-years-old when my Dad was very inebreated and he got me out of bed and sat me on the table in front of him and he would look at me and cry, "DOREEN! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DIE!" I resembled Doreen and he would torture himself during these times. I thought I had done something to Doreen, (whoever she was), and I turned to self anger over the years.
Our life was a mixture of ups and downs...mostly downs. Mom & Dad had three more children after me. They were all boys. Dad seemed to break inside. Mom was angry. She always kept her grief inside her and steamed off in anger when she was drinking. Other than that, she was quiet, very quiet.
My parents had been through so much. My Mom was the oldest daughter of 15 children and a lot was left on her shoulders. In those days you didn't seek help. It was a shame to even think of seeing a Dr. for grief.
My 16 th. birthday was 16 days away. This one afternoon, my Dad stopped by for a visit with me. (Mom and Dad had been separated for about 3 months). Mom walked into the room and they began to fight again...AGAIN! I was so tired of it. I was so sick of it. I loved them deeply and had always tried to get between them and make them happy so that they wouldn't fight. Sometimes it worked...sometimes it didn't.
I got between them and pushed them apart. I could feel my head swirling from the anger & frustration! Dad said
"You're on her side now! You wouldn't care if I killed myself!"
And I screamed out four words that haunted me for 27 years,
"You're not man enough!"
Dad drove into a bridge abutment that night and died the next morning at 6:00 am.
He had struggled all of his life. I often wonder, 'what would it have been like if he had not been horse-whipped'.
(my dad is 9 months old in this pic)Once, me & my cousin, Marie, locked Dad in the little shed where he kept tools. He didn't say anything for the longest time and then out of this tiny little hole came a little old fashioned oil can...the one that is really little with a long spout on it for working on cars. Anyway, we finally set him free and we all laughed until we almost burst. It was a fond memory for me to see my Dad smile. When he smiled his sky blue eyes sparkled like crystal blue. He was a beautiful man. He was a St. Patrick's Day baby.
I am at peace now, Dad, knowing that you are yet once again celebrating another birthday in Heaven.
"Happy Birthday Dad"
your
loving daughter
Glady
"Happy Valentines Day"I know that it is a little bit early but I am here now and I am not certain when I will be back on. Valentines Day to singles can be a very difficult time. Watching husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends, get all cozied up for a dinner out or see a husband buying a dozen red roses and a wife picking out that perfect card that says "I love you" in a special way. How wonderful for them. I love seeing them while they rush about, but there is a dull ache for the empty home I will return to and empty it will be when I arise on Valentine's Day. My daughter is the most thoughtful person I know. She bought me some wonderful stickers for my card making and my favorite chocolate marshmallows and put them in a little heart gift bag. I was so grateful. She will forever be my "most favorite Valentine" for as long as I live. I am not boo-hooing because I do not have a husband, but I am just sharing with you that Valentines Day is a "reminder" to single people that they are single.
On a lighter note, I would like to share a story that I found among my pile of saved funnies. I do not know who wrote it but I laughed so hard that I couldn't even see the words!
A resident of San Diego, was visiting her in-laws, and while there she went to the supermarket to pick up some groceries. Several people noticed her sitting in her car with the windows rolled up and with her eyes closed, with both hands behind the back of her head.
One customer who had been in the store for a while became concerned and walked over to her car. He noticed that Linda's eyes were now open, and she looked very strange. He asked her if she was okay, and Linda replied that she'd been shot in the back of the head and had been holding her brains in for over an hour.
The man called the paramedics, who broke into her car because she refused to remove her hands from her head. When they finally got in, they found that Linda had a wad of bread dough on the back of her head!
A Pillsbury biscuit cannister had exploded from the heat, making a loud noise like a gunshot, and the wad of dough shot out of the cannister and hit her in the back of the head! When she reached back to find out what it was, she felt the dough and thought it was her brains. She initially passed out, but quickly recovered and tried to hold her brains in for over an hour until someone noticed and came to her aid.
"I don't know about you, but this story cracks me up every single time I read it...and I have read it at least a dozen times!"
Oh how I love to laugh! I guess that is why I like to write about the hysterically funny experiences that have happened in my life. Sometimes I become serious but not often. I must sign off for now.
Until next time...
laugh hard...laugh long!
