THOUGHTS…From the Black Sheep

Fondly remembering my childhood days, from when I would wander around outside playing, often following a path leading to my backyard creek, I almost get lost in the excitement of it all. I often forget that everything back then was not always great…

Why is it we often deceive ourselves? From my personal experience, I often do it, to keep my spirit from falling down around me. Sometimes, if we face our worst moments, it can be discouraging and often times scarring to our souls. If we don’t have to come to terms with a bad situation, or a bad experience, we can sweep it aside until we are able to deal with it. Is this wrong? Shouldn’t we all try and face our problems, head on and not run from them? Others would say yes, while many of us, say it varies, it changes with each individual situation. Not everything is the same for each of us. We are, after all, individuals from different walks, different cultures, and different places. So with that being said, here is from my perspective.

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Childhood, the sights, the new experiences, the excitement and the not so good times. I grew up in a family of five. Mother, Father, Daughter, Me, and a Brother, and yes, I was a middle child. Yay, me! Not. Being a middle child was anything but pleasant. It seemed I was never old enough to do the big stuff, but yet not young enough to get away with anything. I felt I was always held accountable for what my little brother did. He seemed to be a mischievous one, whose experiments always landed us in trouble, and who got off from punishment, simply by being the youngest. I was always told, “I should of known better.”

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My sister was older than me, by eight years. She was busy doing her “older things” most of the time, and I hardly saw her. Between her schooling and her jobs, she kept pretty busy and scarcely at our home. I missed her when she wasn’t around. She was fun to follow and fun to watch. She got to do cool things and she even drove herself to wherever she needed or wanted to go. That was a pretty big deal for me. I dreamt of the day I would follow in her footsteps. But for now, I was the middle one, the one who got hand me down clothes and the one who was too young to follow my sister to events, and yet old enough to watch over my little brother, thus making me responsible for us staying out of trouble. Which I might add, was very unfair. My brother had a mind of his own. Although sometimes it was a fun time, it often finished in my grounding or spanking. Sometimes I swear that was his ploy, to get me into trouble.

This one particular time I remember is when we decided to fish with a rod in the living room. We used an actual fishing rod, my mom had a chandelier hanging down in the living room, and this time, it was tied up in fishing line. I do not know what my brother was thinking. although we both were guilty, we had stood on our living room table and before we both contemplated what would happen next, we had tied a fishing line around our mom’s chandelier. Uh ho! We both were in big trouble. I wish you could imagine what it looked like. A three-tier chandelier, with crystal goblets and crystal tear-shaped jewels, with a clear fishing line twisted in and out through it. It was going to be a long ditch effort to fix this, and guess who would have to? Me! Needless to say, I worked my butt off trying to untangle that fishing rod. Sad to say, my mom walked in about the time I was almost done and she was not happy. I got in trouble and my brother was scolded, I had a belt taken to my butt and an ear full of do’s and don’ts.

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Thinking back on it all, I sometimes laugh at the things that often time got me in trouble. Just like this story of the fishing rod. When I remember it, I remember the anger I had at being the only one who received a spanking and yet, I smile because it was a crazy thing for two kids to do while their parents were out. Funny how a situation can be both crazy funny, and yet so unfairly dealt with at the same time. That was not the only time being the middle child made me the scapegoat for my little brother. I guess that is also what happens when you were the “black sheep” of the family.

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