Monday, August 16, 2010

Help!

I finished a book the other day and found myself sobbing as I came to the end.

I'm pretty emotional, as you all well know...I cry at the drop of a hat or a kleenex commercial. I cry at plays, I cry during tv shows (Glee gets me all the time), I cry at movies (my son was nonplussed that I was sobbing at the end of Toy Story 3), I cry during choir concerts, I have even been known to cry when admiring art...heck, I even cried a few times during the latest "So You Think You Can Dance" competition during some of the beautifully choreographed dances. When a friend called to tell me her daughter just pledged Pi Phi and I cried because now that beautiful child will be my "sister"...I cry a lot...

But I don't cry a lot when I read...a few books have moved me to tears..."Pillars of the Earth" did. I cried when I read "Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood" because I saw a lot of my life there. "The Lovely Bones"..."Auntie Mame"...and I laugh until I cry when I read the Sweet Potato Queen books...

But the other day, when I got to the end of "The Help", I found myself sobbing...just sobbing. It really is a beautiful book...and it was a very very very satisfactory read. I highly recommend it.

It is a book about a young white woman and 2 black maids and their lives in the 60's at the time when segregation was still going strong in the south. It is a very frank and honest book and I don't doubt for a minute that the horrible forms of prejudice portrayed and talked about in the book existed at that time.

What got me sobbing?

2 things:

1) I will never never never understand prejudice. I don't get it. I do not understand how one human being can think they are better or superior to another because of the color of their skin...or because of their religion...or because of their sex...and yes, we have been down this road before---because of who they chose to love.

and

2)I was reminded of the women and men who helped raise me and how lucky I was to be loved by them...Matilda...Chale..Nick...Ginje...Tommy...and N (he is still alive, so no real names) and L (she is still alive...same rules)and how much I missed the ones who died and how I am so happy that L and N are still around and I am always so glad to see them and hear them call me "Nicie" and what I wouldn't give right now for any one of them to tell me what to do...

Matilda and Chale were married. They were never able to have a family of their own so we were their kids. Chale grew up with my father...he liked to joke that since he and Daddy practically shared a birthday that they had bee switched at birth. There isn't a person in this world who knew us as a family that wouldn't absolutely agree that Tilda (Matilda) and Chale were family. Every holiday they were at the house to watch us unwrap gifts, or have some turkey, or help us dye eggs before we headed off to Premont. Chale would make an excuse to come but my dad caught on to the ruse early on and told him to just come. We were family.

I spent most of my younger years in Chale's truck. I would ride sitting on the door armrest of the truck and my sister would stand next to him---so close that he really drove with his arm around her legs. We went everywhere in Chale's truck...Tejano music blaring as we went down the road...

Chale drove the carpool. He knew all the moms at school. They all loved him. How could you not love him...he was amazing...

Tilda, his wife, taught me to cook. She taught me to sew. She taught me that warm Campho-phenique can cure almost anything. She taught me to drink lemon and honey tea when I felt bad...no matter what ailed me from menstrual cramps to a sore throat to a tummy ache. She taught me to be a better person.

Ginje and Tommy took care of me when I was little. I have precious pictures of me in their arms. I can still feel their kisses...

N and L were married when I was younger. N worked as my dad's right hand man...they were partners in crime and in all things good and evil and my dad didn't get through many days without N at his side. They rode together in the car and on horses. They worked cattle together. They drank coffee and had breakfast together. They won championships together.

I still remember the first time I met N...he started working for my dad just as we came home from a ski trip---where I had hurt myself and was on crutches. I was expecting Nick (who until then had been my dad's right hand) but instead this devestatingly handsome guy comes climbing onto the plane to get me and carry me out and into the car. I said "you're not Nick" and he said "No, I am N" and from that point on I was "Nicie" and it was love forever...and still is...his son was my brother's best friend...his daughter like a sister and playmate...younger than me so she was like a beautiful doll to play with...

L woke me up every morning...she would throw off my covers and holler at me to get up and get going. She was the best alarm clock in the world. As I grew up she became my confidante and keeper of my secrets. She dried a lot of tears...lots and lots of tears...

I cannot imagine my life without these people. Tilda's passing crippled me...and Chale's passing this past year sent me into my bed with hours of tears...still can't talk about it...so I won't...

My parents were good parents, but it was Chale, Tilda, N, and L who raised me. I give them more credit than my own folks in some ways because they carted me around and taught me things.

I am a lucky woman...I was loved by some of the best people in the world...

And everyone who knows them feels the same way...

So as I read this book and read about how some people treated "the help" in their lives, it killed me.

I remember once I decided to get high handed with Chale. My father had instructed him to only speak Spanish to us so we would be bilingual. My daddy's first and primary language was Spanish so he wanted us to speak it as well. That plan backfired because he didn't realize that his oldest child (me) was as stubborn as a mule...and him (the stubbornest man ever born). I didn't want to speak Spanish (boy was I stupid).

So one day I wanted an Icee. I asked Chale if we could go get an Icee. I must have been about 4. He told me to ask him in Spanish...I understood the Spanish, just didn't want to speak it...

From what I was told, because I don't fully remember the incident, I then answered him with the following:
"Shut up you stupid Mexican and get me an Icee"

(as I write this I am shuddering at the thought I ever ever ever spoke to him or anyone else that way)

Now, I don't remember saying that, but if Chale says I did...well, then I did...

What I do remember is the beating with the belt I got from my dad for saying that to Chale and how I never did it again...and am horrified that I even tried it once.

I still cannot believe those words left my mouth...but apparently they did...and it rocks me to my core that I ever said anything that awful to him. Even if I was 4.

I learned early on that the men and women who worked for us were not the lucky ones...we were the lucky ones that they worked for us because we were lucky to have them in our lives. They didn't deserve us...and we certainly didn't deserve their love and grace and teaching but were blessed to get it.

Tilda and Chale lived in a tiny one bedroom house when I was little. It was the best house in the world. And Tilda made the best food in the world. No one's empanadas, carne guisada, pollo con calabasas, tamales, 7 Up Cake, hummingbird cake, or pan de polvo (except I do recall that L makes some really good pan de polvo too) can compare. Chale made the best frijole beans, jerky, and pan de campo (camp bread). None better.

L would watch me burn up things in the kitchen and then teach me how to clean up the pans and she would cover up the devestation (hide it from my parents) for me. My mom also taught me to cook but Tilda and L were instrumental in my culinary education. I am a good cook because of those women...and Chale...

They weren't "the help"...they are family...

So just to overload on social injustice I have started to read "Same Kind of Different as Me"...what an awesome book. Also about what ignorance and prejudice can do to a life...

I just don't get prejudice...I cannot believe anyone ever thought it was ok to make someone use a seperate restroom, or not be able to eat in a restaurant, or drink from a water fountain. It makes me crazy to think about it...and ashamed of the human race for ever allowing it to happen.

Skin color is only a color...just like hair color...

Like I said before I would hate for someone to discount me as a person because I am blonde...

The "Help" in my life has been enormous. And I'm not just talking about the people who loved, cared for, and raised me.

Lately I have had a lot of help in my weight loss journey.

Fitness Goddess motivates me every time she sees me. She is amazing in her support and care. I highly recommend having a fitness goddess of your own in your corner...and it helps if she/he is a trainer.

Spinderella and Spingirl (my other favorite spin teacher) are my reason for getting out of bed some mornings...

GOTT and TTG are big helpers...maybe because I help them...but it never hurts to have 2 incredibly good looking sweet men who are literally like brothers to you to cheer you on...remember my motto of "I am like Tinkerbell...I need applause to live"? Well, their hands must be soooo tired from all the clapping I have demanded of them but they keep going...I love them as much as any woman can love two men who are not related to her or her husband...

JayVee, a name that will only make sense to HRC members, is the group fitness director at the gym. She is gorgeousness and been in the fitness business long enough to laugh with me when we remember Body Rock Houston and doing donkey kicks while wearing thong leotards. Of course she was only 2 when she was teaching there... JayVee has been cheering me on and supporting me and today gave me an ultra compliment when she asked my opinion on some class times BECAUSE SHE IS ADDING SOME MORE SPIN CLASSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Woo-hoo! I might get to spin 4 days a week now!!!!!! I like my elliptical and my arc trainer but the spin bike is truly my happy place so that is mega good news.

JayVee is teaching a class tomorrow that I am going to try...body pump...I'll let you know how it goes...

Sistah has been so supportive I don't even know how to express it. I know she loves me and prays for me (Sistah is a good one to have in your prayer corner) and comes with me to classes and motivates me so much. I was so deeply touched when I heard from friends that she was bragging on me that I cried. Now if I could only get her gorgeous long legs on my stubby frame...and her ability to play sports...Sistah reads this so I can give her a shout-out and tell her I love her...like a Sistah...

And some of the greatest help of all has been you...my friends and readers of this blog. Your support and words of encouragement have meant the world to me. Everytime one of you becomes an official "follower" of this blog or you tell me via facebook or when I see you that you read this and are following me on this journey to become half of myself, I am deeply deeply deeply touched.

The fact that any of you want to read the ravings of a mad fat woman is a mystery to me but as long as you want to read, I will write...because it is way cheaper to do this than to pay a therapist...and this is therapy for me.

So thank you for the help...I truly love and appreciate it...

Inspiration song: "Help" by the one, the only...the BEATLES...

The lyrics pretty much sum up how I feel...although when I was younger I DID need the help I got...and right now I am not down but I have been down in the past and again you all have helped me get through it...

Here are the words...thank you Lennon & McCartney

Help, I need somebody,
Help, not just anybody,
Help, you know I need someone, help.

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me?

And now my life has changed in oh so many ways,
My independence seems to vanish in the haze.
But every now and then I feel so insecure,
I know that I just need you like I've never done before.

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me.

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me, help me, help me, oh.


Bye Darlings...

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