Wall Flowers Need to Be Fertilized to Grow

My position at Michigan Hospital Association opened my eyes up to the real world outside of Killer’s sheltered globe he kept Worm and I in.  I had my boss to thank for offering me opportunities to see that I was worth more than what Killer had me believe.  I don’t think she knew at the time what she was doing for me.

Killer was always so proud of the Homestead, but much like our lives, the house was beautiful on the outside and no so much on the inside. Of course when you didn’t allow people to come into the inside, they could only admire what was on the outside, not knowing what lurked within the walls of that prison.

My boss, Lois, came over one day.  I am not even sure how she came about to being there, but I invited her in.  She basically stated what I noted above.  The carpet in the living room was red wool but it was 18 inches wide and they no longer made carpets like that, so you know how old it was.  The house just needed uplift.

The kitchen was a work of progress that was a bone of contention later in our life.  It was nice, but it was not completed.  There was no heat in the kitchen and I’ll cover this when I tell you about the environment inside the house. The bathroom was done, but it wasn’t anything special.  Z brick was the wall covering of choice for Killer and he would brag that you could take a power washer to the kitchen and bathroom to clean it and nothing would be damaged.

Lois mentioned the house wasn’t all that impressive on the inside.  Really?  Like I needed her to tell me this?  Later Killer asked me what she thought expecting me to inform him that she was ranting and raving about the beauty of the beast.  When I told him what she said, he immediately allowed me to redecorate the living room, but again within his parameters and his taste.  I do have to say it was a major improvement but it was not me.  I was merely following my directive.

One of the functions of our department was to be involved in the annual conference at Boyne Mountain each year for three days.  The members would come to this conference for educational purposes and pleasure, such as golf.  My second year of attending this function, Lois informed me that I would have to present at the afternoon break out sessions.

I had never done public speaking.  I don’t know that I was afraid; I just had never done it. I prepared my presentation like anyone would, note cards to remind me of what I wanted to cover and I studied those with the determination that I’d survive this task before me. Lois had told me that I needed to not be a wall flower and mingle with our clients.  Talk to them, go to dinner, and get involved.  She didn’t realize that I still had a curfew.  Killer expected me to call home every night at 8:00 PM to check in and to stay in for the night. I guess he knew the temptations that were or could be presented at these conferences.

Lois assured me that few would attend my break out session as they had a choice to either golf or some other fun activity or attend these boring breaks out sessions.  I believed her.  If I had been attending and had a choice of fun or torture, I’d pick fun any day.

The meeting room looked out on to Boyne Mountain which is known for skiing.  I was ready to face this empty room with my notes cards and little slide presentation.  After lunch, I went into this conference room.  It was huge with the whole back wall nothing but double doors for participants to enter.

I swear the bell rang and all these doors opened at once and the people rushed in similar to a black Friday door buster sale! I was paralyzed. What happened to everyone attending the other activities that were being offered?  Not to mention Lois and her boss sat in the back of the room to critique me?  OY! I felt my stomach lift off; butterflies were ripping it out of my body! I stood behind the podium and felt the floor go out from underneath me. I could not talk to all these people!

But I did.  I stood in front of them and talked for an hour. I couldn’t follow my carefully organized note cards that were to guide me through this war zone.  I stood in front of this room and stared at the Mountain and talked about workers compensation.  I was mesmerized by the mountain and rarely looked at the audience so I did not always catch someone batting at flies in the room, cause I knew they were not raising there hands to ask me a question, but they did and I answered them like I knew what I was talking about.  And, much to my surprise this audience all had their clothes on. Perhaps that is why I was looking at the mountain as someone had told me to imagine them in their underwear!

I had so many members come up to me afterwards to tell me what a great job I did and how well I presented.  As well that I kept it at a level that they could understand. My marks on the evaluation sheet were fantastic and very positive.  I was so relieved that it was over, but Lois informed me shortly after that my presentation was so well attended and liked, that I’d be presenting the next year as well.

That is when I started my endless road trips to our member hospitals to educate them all about workers compensation.  I thrived on this.  It was rare that staff didn’t approach me afterwards and tell me how great my presentation was and how they had expected it to be so boring.  I went from hiding behind that podium with a death grip on my post card notes to working the room, walking around and being very animated with my presentation.  This wall flower was in full bloom and she was going to a whole other level of confidence both in her career and at the homestead.  Thank you Lois Forester for fertilizing this dying wall flower.

One Small Victory For Cindy Marie!

With Worm’s departure to her relatives down south and my job at Michigan Hospital Association, I was not in a position to play full time servant to Killer.  Killer firmly believed that in a couple one person had a career and one held a job.  He felt it was my duty to hold the job as he had a career, but I wanted a career and I took the bull by the horns to prove I was worthy of a career with the hospital association.

This job offered me freedom from the shackles of marriage. I was hired as a claims representative and within a very short time had achieved two promotions. I helped produce a slide show to present to the hospital staff for training purposes to teach how to investigate a work related injury from a supervisor’s perspective. I was challenged with not only handling a claim case load, but also to travel to our client’s to educate staff.

I loved what I was doing despite hating workers compensation.  I became an expert in the field. Back in the early to mid 1980’s Management by Objectives (MBO) was introduced as a means to evaluate your employees based on objectives that were to be met through their performance. I am a person that sees the maximum, not the minimum.  The goals were based on a scale of one through six, with six being unattainable and three being what was expected. I did not discover this until after the first year when I attained sixes on most if not all my goals, but I had worked like a dog to achieve this.

I learned the lesson that goals that are set are attainable, but if you reach for the stars and snatch them from the sky, the next year you will be required to control the universe so don’t be so gung ho on proving you are worthy or soon your goals will be unattainable at any given level.

This job allowed me to travel throughout Michigan.  It allowed me to stay at nice hotels and attend conferences where I met people from all walks of life.  Prior to Worm’s unexpected transfer to Alabama, I had made a deal with her.  I had a conference at Mackinaw Island and I had several visits to make on my travels to the island. It was about the time that she would be out of school for summer break.  The deal was if she could behave and that was to follow some simple rules that were not difficult for a period of time up to our departure, I would take her with me.  She was so excited for this trip, but within days of our departure, she screwed up.  I’m sure it had to do with food or lying as most times it did.

She was devastated that she was going to miss out on this trip that she had her heart set on. I was disappointed that she blew it so close to the deadline. I let her  stew over the fact that she had blown it and the day before I was to leave, I told her that although she had not held up her end of the deal, I would still take her with me.  She was elated with the news and we took off the next day.

It was a memorable trip for both of us. We stopped along the way after I would do a presentation and have lunch or dinner.  One particular day when we were just south of Traverse City, I stopped and bought a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken and we stopped at a road side picnic table and had lunch.

We got to Mackinaw Island and while I attended the conferences, she was able to be free.  She knew the rules though. If she tried to steal, she’d have to deal with me and she already knew I was teetering on taking her down without batting an eyelash. We rented horses and went for a trail ride.  We rode rented bikes; we just enjoyed three glorious days on the island with no constraints and free of the Devil’s watchful eye.

I took my Mother on one of these trips to the Upper Peninsula for well over a week. We were up there about the time that deer season opened and in Michigan everything closes down for deer season and some things are open only during deer season.

We were in Hurley, Michigan for a day or two on a lay over waiting for the hospital staff to return from deer hunting so that I could continue my round of the Upper Peninsula and head back home.  I was gone for close to two weeks by the time I returned home.  Mother and I had such a great trip.  She especially enjoyed it as a get away as Dad had retired and she was not used to him being around all the time.

We discovered in our travels that you could judge the size of a town by whether it had a McDonald’s or a K-Mart. If one of those did not exist, we were in a village, not a city.  Hurley did not have either at the time. It was minutes from the border of Wisconsin and a ninety minute drive to Duluth, Minnesota.  Mom loved to travel with me because there was no schedule.  I had to be at my appointments and work, but if we had time and we saw something of interest, I stopped or turned the car around.  My Dad didn’t travel that way.

This one particular day that I was free to wait for the hunters to return, I suggested we drive to Duluth.  She just couldn’t believe I’d do that but we did and we had a great time exploring. We returned to Hurly in time for dinner. I was always dressed to the nines and Mother dressed up to go to dinner to the only restaurant in town.  We were approached by the manager who wanted to know if we were from around there.  I responded that I was on business and was in town for a couple of days.  We bantered back and forth about my “business.”  I was oblivious to the fact that Hurley, Michigan during hunting season was the mecca shopping grounds for ladies of the night who serviced hunters.  Mother and I laughed like school girls to think they thought our business was conducted in the red light district.

But with Worm’s transfer I still had to maintain the duties of the wife and strive to meet my lofty goals of my career. I approached Killer about the house hold chores and splitting them.  Again, I must have lost my mind.  I was informed that a woman’s work was in the house and a man’s responsibility was outside.  Damn if that equality thing didn’t bite me in the backside again.  Visions of my brother having to mow the lawn once a week and burn trash verses my task of washing dishes every day slapped me in the face like a cold shower.

Killer mowed the small lawn on a riding lawn mower that didn’t take much time considering how small the lot was. He would snow blow the driveway and sidewalks, but that was not often. On the other hand, I had cooking, cleaning, laundry and assorted other tasks to do in addition to working more than forty hours a week.  I decided to schedule my self out of the house from Monday to Friday.  Surely, he would have to do some chores in the house in my absence!

Killer would ask me how long I was going to be gone. If I was going to be gone five days, he wanted five cans of tuna fish purchased at the grocery store. When I returned on Friday, I would find five opened empty cans of tuna fish stacked by the sink.  Five plates, five sets of flatware and assorted coffee mugs waiting for me to take care of them.  He didn’t throw the tuna cans away.  He didn’t twist at the waist and open the dishwasher door to place the dirty dishes in, he just left them.

He didn’t hang his clothes up.  Before I left, I had to pick out his clothes for one week or for however many days I was going to be gone. I swore I was going to start buying him geranimals to coordinate his clothes. I went so far as to place tags on clothing that matched so he could pick them out himself, but he just found this to be cute and amusing, not functional for his needs.

He’d pile his clothes in Worm’s room and I would have to hang them up when I came home.  I had laundry to do ironing to do as well as grocery shop and clean. I was growing tired of this inequality and I knew inside my days were numbered.  Worm was gone and I didn’t expect her back home ever.  I knew she’d see this door of opportunity and take it lock stock and barrel.  But she didn’t and she was coming home before I could plan my get away.

One particular night, after a long week on the road and an early morning on the road to start back up again, I came into the house to find everything waiting for me to pick up and take care of.  I needed gas in my car and just did not have the energy to go fill my tank before coming home.  I was in the kitchen cleaning up the tuna banquet that Killer had left for me.  I asked him to go fill my car up with gas while I cooked dinner.

Without breaking his stride, he turned around to walk out of the kitchen with these parting words, “it’s your car, you fill it up.”  My head spun around to glare at him as he departed the kitchen.  Did he just say what I thought he said? I put down whatever I had in my hand and I followed him with such determination.   What did I have to lose; I was a short timer in this living hell.

I opened the library door and just as clear and distinct as he had taught me to speak, standing just as tall as he had trained my spine  I told him,  “When you can drive that #$@$%#^%# car into this house, I’ll fill it up, but right now it sets outside and as I recall that is a man’s job!” I turned around slamming the door wondering how many more seconds I had before the coroner came to take me away.

Killer came into the kitchen.  Smoke was coming from my ears I was so mad.  He didn’t say a word. He picked up my car keys and walked out the door.  Within fifteen minutes he returned, without a word, he had filled my car up and was waiting for dinner to be served.  Apparently my message was effectively delivered.  Inside my heart skipped a beat – I could smell victory!

Do the Crime, Pay the Time

Food is a necessity of life; it allows us to fuel our bodies to live. It is the center of our society.  We gather for holidays that revolve around food. We gather for birthdays that revolve around cake and ice cream. We gather as families to celebrate and food is the spotlighted. We get married and the new couples spend hours deciding what to serve the guests and what kind of cake to have. People die and we have meals to celebrate their life. We have parties and we plan to the finest detail what we will serve our guests. We go to sporting events and we eat hot dogs and drink beer. We have picnics, we pack coolers. We take meals to the ill, we take meals to families that have lost a loved one, and food is our comfort.

Our mothers give us food when we are hurt or sad. Our loved ones send us chocolates to proclaim their love for us. We give candy for Easter, Halloween, Christmas and Valentines. It is attached to everything we do. But for many, food is evil. It cannot be controlled.  It is craved and it provides comfort.

Worm was not fat when I married Killer. She was like any other child that age. She was pleasingly plump. Her face was round and she had a little meat on her bone, but she was not fat. Killer thought she was though. She was entering that awkward age of coming out on the other end as pretty or again, pretty ugly. Killer insisted she diet.  That is when the food inventory began.

Worm had just lost her Mother.  Killer did not allow her to attend the funeral.  Killer did not allow her to visit her Mother in the hospital. I am betting, while he was at the hospital with his wife, she had been carded into her room while he was gone as he did not believe in babysitters.

Within six weeks after she lost her Mother, he brings this woman home that he spends a considerable amount of time with and she is ignored by him. She was the “hired” help that wasn’t paid.  Clean the house, pick up the clothes, do the dishes and attend school. 

Killer didn’t talk about Molly.  I came to his house for the first time about seven weeks after he lost his wife.  He told me he had to remove all the photos of her before I came over. I don’t know why. I didn’t ask him to, but he insisted. My Bill has been gone for eight years and I still have photos of him around the house and I do not put them away when others come over. So I understand why Worm turned to food for comfort. He was not there to offer her comfort.  He removed anything that reminded him of her immediately. He did not talk about her and he did not encourage her to.

She would eat dinner in her room behind closed doors.  He and I ate in the library.  We did not sit down to the dinner table, it would have required him to turn the heat on in that room and he kept the house very cold.  Each room had its own individual thermostat and if we didn’t use the room, the heat was so low that you swore you were in a meat locker. But I will expound on that later as that is worth a blog of its own.

When Worm would gather our dishes and return to the kitchen, she would eat the leftovers on the plate.  Killer caught her doing this and all hell broke loose.  He called her names that are not repeatable. He pointed out how fat she was and how no one would love her if she were fat. So, the controls were tightened.

When you apply controls  people rebel, ask me, I know all about it.  She started sneaking food.  Things that you would not even think that she’d eat without preparing them, she ate.  She’d sneak frozen TV dinners into her room and hide them under her mattress to eat later. She’d open up cans of beans and hide them in the back of the refrigerator drawer with a spoon in the can so she could grab a quick bite when necessary.  She’d have open cans in the cupboard with baggies over it and forget it was there.  I would notice ants crawling everywhere and start tearing in to the cupboards to discover a can that was tucked away covered in mold and critters.  I would go ballistic! This was probably why I spanked her.

I would walk into her room and the stench would knock me over.  I’d start ripping into her room knowing somewhere I would find something lurking and hoping it had not grown eyes and fur.

But what set me off the most is that when I asked her if she knew anything about this, she’d look at me with those big brown eyes and without hesitation claim she had no idea how this stuff happened.  She was as surprised as I was that I would find these mountains of mold growing between her mattresses or in cupboards. If you are a parent, you know what I am talking about.  Things mysteriously happen and no one knows how.

Worm invented the milk moustache long before Got Milk came along. There was a door that separated the kitchen from the hall and one from the dining room. Both remained closed to keep the heat in each room but if I came through the door from the hallway, she could hear the door handle as I grabbed to open it, but the other door was a swinging door, so I could surprise her with no sound but the swish of the door and the gasp in her breath.

One particular night I was watching her through the crack of the swinging door.  She was taking forever to do her dishes and I was growing impatient with her lollygagging so I watched to see if she was being productive or daydreaming.  She was in the refrigerator; eyes glazed from the variety of treats laid before her.  All she would have to do is ask, but she chose to sneak.  In those days I bought food for the week and I cooked more often than eating out, so I might have bought something for a meal and all I asked was that she ask me if she wanted something so I would not go for something to discover it was missing.

She grabbed the milk carton and removed the lid, she looked around, knowing she was sneaking and when she felt safe no one was watching or coming, she drew that milk jug back and took a swig of that creamy white delight just as I swung that door opened, my head spinning similar to my Mother.  “What are you doing?” “Nothing.”  “Did you just take a swig of milk out of the carton?” “NO.”

NO? Just as clear as you could say it, she spoke it without hesitating or choking on the milk as she swallowed it.  Milk clinging to her upper lip and a drip on the edge of her lip, she looked me in the eye and swore she did not drink any milk. She challenged me with her sneaking of food like I challenged my Mother with the curfew. I would be so angry with her.  Killer told me she had to lose weight and it was up to me to see that she did it.  I was giving her portion control but she was craving comfort and she found it in food.

Food was the root of all evil for Worm.  Because she was considered fat to Killer, he refused her breakfast and lunch.  Anyone would be famished by dinner time, but Killer wasn’t budging on this.  When she went to high school, there was an open campus and Worm did what any child would do that is controlled, she figured out how to eat and she didn’t care what happened.

It was late one afternoon in her sophomore year, when I got a call from the school and the East Lansing Police.  She had gone to lunch off campus. Walking from the high school to the 7-11 in downtown East Lansing, she helped herself to food.  For a while she got away with it, but in time you will get caught.  She got caught and the pieces to the puzzle were put together.

She would go to 7-11 and help herself to whatever she was feeling like having that day and then she would skip the class that followed lunch.  Killer was livid! How dare she drag the Henshaw name through the mud.  Henshaw’s were not thieves!

I knew she felt bad, who wouldn’t it, but she was hungry and he could have agreed to allow her to have a meal before dinner time each night. We ended up going to juvenile court to address this issue before the court.  He rode her non-stop until that court date arrived and he reminded her almost daily of what a disgrace she was to the Henshaw name.

She was just shy of turning fifteen when this happened. She was shaking like a leaf when we walked toward the building that housed the court room.  Killer had pretty much convinced her she’d be dragged away in cuffs and would be eating bread and water from now on.  Honestly, she was probably thinking this was a better deal than what she had at home, but any child would be scared.

The Judge slapped her wrist and told her that if she saw her in her court again, the consequences would be more intense.  I had thought this would have been enough to curb her new found habit, but it wasn’t.  The Court had informed her she could end up in foster care if this continued but she didn’t seem to care.  Food is a requirement to living and Killer was not providing sufficient food for a growing teenager.

At fifteen, she apparently didn’t believe the Judge and she did this once again. It was about this time that Killer dropped the bomb that she was not even his.  He had adopted her when he married her mom and he didn’t even want her.  This is not how you tell a child who has been led to believe for fifteen years that she is your daughter that she was adopted and not wanted.

Worm and I went to Juvenile Court the second time without Killer.  He was done.  She was an embarrassment to him and he wanted nothing to do with her.  Now, don’t think for a minute that he gave up his control; he just shifted the disciplinary responsibility to me and he controlled the strings to this puppets.

Things were not looking good for Worm when we went to the Courtroom.  It had not been that long ago that she had her hands slapped and the Judge was going to take her matter into consideration.

Killer made the decision before the Courts could.  She was moving out of East Lansing as soon as he could make the arrangements.  He really was done with her and her lying and stealing.

He called Mollie Belles brother and sister in law and explained to them some of the situation.  He wasn’t completely honest with them about the extent of the issues that we were confronted with.  It wasn’t just the stealing and lying, but there were issues at school as well that were going to blow up sooner than later.  Killer thought it was best to pull her and place her where there was less opportunity to screw up.  Her Uncle Chuck was such a nice guy. He was Mollie Belles brother and he and his wife took her into their home in Alabama with open arms.  They remembered Worm as this cute little girl who pulled at your heartstrings when she was living in her single digit days. That little girl disappeared and probably when her Mother died.

I had written to them without Killer’s knowledge to give them the whole story.  I could not allow her to manipulate them and I knew that she would.  She no longer knew the truth from a lie and she could be so convincing when she wanted to be.  They gave her the benefit of the doubt and allowed her to change, but when you go from a very controlled environment to a slightly controlled environment, you go crazy and she went crazy nuts.

Within five weeks, Chuck’s wife Saundra had called me in tears and said that they could no longer do this.  They had raised their son and they were too old to deal with this girl. They lived out in the middle of nowhere in Alabama, but it didn’t keep her from finding trouble.  She’d sneak out of the house and take off with the boys.  They would go into town and hear others talking about their wild niece. This was not acceptable and she was more than they wanted to handle.  Saundra was just so upset that they couldn’t take care of her since she was Chuck’s niece, but it was what it was.

I had to tell Killer. Again he flew off the handle.  He pointed out that I was always standing up for her and he was right about her. What could I say? I had hoped that she would see this as an opportunity to change.  I thought she’d see this as her opportunity to free herself from the chains that had bound her. This was her free get out of jail card and she too young to see the door that was opened for her to fly as fast as she could from East Lansing.

Killer called Chuck.  It was summer time and he made arrangements to come pick her up.  She was not to be informed of this change in plans that would again rock her world and throw her back into his control.

We had to re enroll her in East Lansing High School.  We had to meet with the Courts to inform them that she was returning. They were considering foster care, but I promised them that I’d take full responsibility of her and that she had improved in her time away.  Lord, I needed help. Killer was not in favor of this arrangement, but he had to pick her up as her “own blood relatives” didn’t want her.

We drove down to Alabama to pick her up.  They had taken her somewhere knowing about our estimated arrival time.  She came in to the house and the look on her face was that of terror, for there we sat at the dining room table waiting for her to return to take her back to her living hell.

Inner Strength is Invisible

In 1982 along with everything else that was happening, Worm was entering high school that fall. She would be a freshman at East Lansing High School.  Life at the Homestead was not getting better, if anything, it was getting worse.  Worm had entered puberty and it had not gone unnoticed by Killer.

Worm was not allowed to shower.  She had to bathe and in less than two inches of water.  Killer felt it was too expensive for her to shower.  Yes, makes no sense. He showered, I showered and he watered his lawn so that it resembled the lawn seen on Tru-Green brochures. He washed his cars with this water that he thought was too expensive for Worm to bathe in. In East Lansing you paid for water.  It wasn’t that we could not afford this water it was just another way for him to control or maybe punish her.  I never could figure it out and to this day, I have no idea what his thought process was, except that it gave him the ability to walk into the bathroom when she was bathing.

He would tell her that she had to get used to men gawking at her as all they wanted was to stare at her “titties.” He did not mix his words.  He was very bold and descriptive when he would share with her what men wanted from women. I felt so sorry for this little girl who hunkered down in the tub trying to cover her budding parts.

I spoke to Killer one day about this.  She was entering puberty and he needed to give her privacy.  She was no longer a toddler and he needed to respect her and show her that men should respect her.  We were at breakfast at Coral Gables, a place that we frequented often for breakfast. He told me that he would not discuss this in public.  I thought it was the best place to present it as he could not raise his voice or walk out on me.  How very wrong of me to think this man would consider my pleas.

He waited until we were in the car and he unloaded on me. Who was I to question his parenting skills? Worm needed to learn that men were pigs and that all they wanted was to fuck her and the sooner she learned this, the better off she’d be.  Wow! Is this what he thought of women? Again, he reminded me that I was treading on thin ice, I was his wife and I was to support his decisions. And he reminded me with one of his famous quotes that he shared with Worm and me so often, “Do or die.”

Killer was never physically abusive with me.  He never hit me, but verbally he could shrink me to the point I had to look up to see the knees of a gnat. I had to stay strong inside.  I would not let him see me cry nor would I allow him to see me shiver when he spoke these hateful words.

He continued to “toughen” up Worm for the day that she had to face some pompous ass that reminded her of him. He would wait until her hands were full with a dish she was drying and flick her bra up with his forefinger and smirk while he was doing it. I did not dare to stand up for her with him present when he did this as she would have suffered more.  If I would have spoken up when he did this, he would have continued only more intense proving a point that I did not control him.  He was the King in this Kingdom.

When she was in middle school and she did not live up to his expectations or she did not follow the rules to his satisfaction, he would take her into her bedroom with belt in hand and close the door. She would bare her bottom.  He would not allow her clothing to soften the blow, not that it would have, but he would take that belt to her and dare her to cry for he’d raise the belt again. He would tell her how many times he was going to take the belt to her and he would have her count off her beatings ending each count with the title of respect that he did not deserve, One, Sir, Two, Sir, Three, Sir. How this child survived this is beyond me.

This child learned to take a beating and not let it show the pain that she was in. It didn’t keep her from stepping over the boundaries that had been placed before her.  How she reminded me of myself on so many occasions. She just had to follow the rules.

She was not allowed in the house after school.  Killer did not trust her to have free rein of the house.  I don’t know that he ever did.  I always remember her in the garage waiting for one of us to come home after work. It didn’t matter whether it was 100 degrees outside or 20 below, she was to stay in the garage and stay low so the neighbors did not spot her sitting on the step that entered the house.

She had minutes to walk home from school.  There was no second that she could take for herself.  She had better be in that garage at 2:37 every day regardless. He had a job that he could come and go so he might be home or he might not.  He had the idea of calling the house.  The phone was just inside the garage door and she was to keep track of the time the phone rang and the number of times it rang from 2:37 until one of us opened that garage door after work. Upon our arrival, her log would be checked against the log one of us kept depending on our schedules. Again, she pushed the envelope and would challenge the authority by not being home on time and her punishment was always a beating.

As she entered high school, Killer realized that the bruising left by the belt would be seen by the authorities at school.  He had learned that the feet do not bruise. From the day she entered high school, her beatings went from her bare bottom to her bare feet.  She would lay on her bed, with her feet raised to him as he took that belt to her feet and again, she was not allowed to shed a tear.

I witnessed this one time and I could not let it go. The hatred in her eyes as she glared at him and the glassy look in his eyes as he took that belt to her feet was a vision that I still cannot get out of my eyes.

I spoke to him afterwards and suggested that perhaps this needed to end. He would not budge, but he did suggest that if I wanted to I could take over the punishment.  I had given Worm spankings but I had not taken them to this level.  The first time I spanked her, I felt so guilty.  It brought back memories of my childhood. Shortly after I  administered this spanking, I was in the basement doing laundry.  I called her down to the basement. Her eyes were still filled with crocodile tears.  I told her that I was angry and again I emphasized the reason she had been given this punishment, she understood why.  I told her I loved her and I gave her a hug.  I needed her to know that I still cared but that she had to learn her lesson.  

Over the years, I was not able to convey this message for at the top of the stair stood the Devil and he witnessed this exchange between us as he walked into the kitchen.  I was informed that this was not a form of parenting that he approved of and it was to end. Worm did not know he was behind her at the top of the stairs.  She never witnessed these exchanges between us as I did not dare question him in front of her.  I had been warned to support him and any action that he suspected did not support him, would result in my own meeting with the Devil. These conversations took place behind the closed doors within the closed doors of the Henshaw Homestead. Some days I was successful but most days, I failed.

Some Days You Just Need Your Buddies

As you will recall, when my soul needed rejuvenating, I fled north to the cottage to lick my wounds and heal.  This was no longer a luxury for me. My parents lived at the “cottage” now that they called their home.  It was a three bedroom ranch on Houghton Lake right next to the Cut River.  It sat on a dead end street so there was no traffic and very little activity except for the few seasonal families that came up for their summer vacations. It was a slice of heaven for me.

We would go to the cottage to visit my parents.  My brother, his wife and his son, would also come up and spend the weekend, but it no longer held the solace it had offered me in my youth. 

It was not a place to escape from your troubles any longer as your troubles packed their suitcases and traveled with you. I still enjoyed the cottage, laying on the deck and reading a book or climbing on the Cindy Marie and paddling out away from the noises of a family filled house.

When Killer had taken me to Toronto, we had rented a paddle boat.  It was fun, but it was not something that I yearned for.  In 1981, he bought me one of these paddle boats from Toronto and had it shipped to the house.  We kept it at the lake to use on the few occasions we traveled there in the summer.

I took up sewing. I went to Ken Edwards Sewing Center in Lansing and I bought a very fancy sewing machine from whom else? Neal’s mother. It is truly amazing how small the world is when you get out in to it.

I taught myself to sew.  While everyone else was all snug as a bug in a rug, I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, in the stillness of the house and sewed. I was not alone, as Killer and Worm were in the house, but they were in bed and I had the peace I so desperately sought right there at the dining room table.

I had taken the basics of sewing in middle school, but I did not see myself as anyone who would be sewing for fun.  My Mother and her sisters were beautiful seamstress.  My great grandmother was a seamstress at Maurice’s for years. My maternal grandmother was a seamstress.  These women sewed and they made clothes, finely tailored suits, draperies, I dabbled in animals at first.

Killer had a penchant for stuffed animals.  He referred to them as his “buddies.”  I know! I can hear you chuckling as your read this. This man that was such a controlling freak liked stuffed animals!

When I met Killer he had eight stuffed animals.  Each had a name and a story that accompanied this plush comforting creature. There was Ted E Bear who was a pocket sized bear that his mother had made and was featured in many of her cards.  Ted E. Bear was about five to six inches long and resembled a Flat Stanley.  He went everywhere with us.  He had his own wardrobe and often he could be found in Killer’s suit coat inside breast pocket.  Ted E. Bear liked to dance the night away in the palm of your hand and there was a ditty that was sung as he did.

Terribly Timid Timothy the Tiger was a knitted multi colored orange and yellow stripped tiger.  I think he slung hash at Sambo’s Restaurant when he was not travelling in the buddy bag to exotic places. Soft Dog was also one of the original eight and so was Kermit the Frog who was a brightly green knitted frog with long legs and arms. Leopold was a black and white panda bear that origins came from somewhere overseas.  I cannot recall each of their names and the stories.  One would think I would remember them clearly, but too much time has passed.  I just texted Worm to see if she could recall and even though these stuffed animals were a part of our everyday existence, it is hard for us to recall their stories.

When Killer and I traveled to Toronto the second or third time, the buddies had multiplied and they had gone from little hand buddies, to large life size dogs.  My first sewing project was Spot.  He was a brown short plush simple looking dog that was sewn to constantly sit. He did not have the capability to run or I’m confident he would have.

I had sewn a large bag for the buddies and they traveled with us to Toronto on more than one occasion. As we checked into this five star hotel, the bag attendant attempted to put the maroon twill colored bag drawn tightly closed by a draw string on to the cart to deliver our luggage to the room.  Spot was in the car. Killer loved this dog that I had sewn.  He was so proud of his new buddy.  He grabbed Spot off the seat and carried him under his arm to the room.  

The bag attendant followed us to our room, in a very distinct British Canadian accent he asked Killer what was in the bag.  With the straightest of faces and in his own fake British accent that he pulled out of his ass when he first met someone, he responded, “ Dear Chap, those are our buddies.” He proceeded to open the bag and introduce each to this bag attendant. I honestly thought I would die! As he neared the end of his introductions he reached into his suit coat pocket and removed Ted E. Bear, who was dressed in his tux and had been preparing for this performance of dancing the night away in the palm of the baggage attendant.

I often wonder what this man thought as he departed from our room.  I know that I would have flown down the stairs to share this freak show with my coworkers. Long live the buddies!

For One Brief Second, She Experienced Childhood

It was 1982. I had lost my job.  My Father had retired from a managerial position at Fisher Body in February. He and my Mother sold their home in Lansing and moved to their home at Houghton Lake.  They would finally settle down and not move again for another twenty six years. It was the longest they stayed in one home. My brother was soon to be having his first born, my nephew and Godchild. It was the year the suburban housewife car was presented to me as well.

In late August, I began working for Michigan Hospital Association. This job in the long run saved my life, but in the end, it forced me to question my own moral compass. How far would I go to free myself from the life behind those brick walls at the Homestead?  All this time no one knew.  I walked out of that house with a smile on my face and a bounce in my step. Others would believe I was living the dream of a woman who had this husband who absolutely adored her.  Placed her on this pedestal and worshipped her and I in turn him.  If only they knew what went on behind closed doors, they would have been shocked that I was a part of it.

I did not want this job in the beginning, but I was unemployed and my benefits would soon expire.  The job was for a claims representative for a third party administrator who in turn handled workers compensation claims for self-insured hospitals throughout Michigan. There were about 120 hospitals that belonged to this fund. I was coming in on the ground floor of this new venture.

I came home after the initial interview and shared with Killer the results of the interview.  It was workers compensation and that was a line I detested, but I needed a job.  The starting salary was much greater than I had been making at Shelby Mutual. It was a salaried position paying fifteen thousand a year. It was a far cry from the humble beginnings of working as a claims service representative for Michigan Mutual just two years prior where I earned less than eight thousand a year as an hourly employee. It was an increase from the near eighteen months that I worked at Shelby Mutual as a claims representative earning a salary of just over eleven thousand a year.  I was five years out of high school and earning a decent salary for 1982.  Killer had been a claims adjuster for Michigan Mutual for close to ten years at this point and earned twenty two thousand a year.

Killer had told me once more that I was not smart enough to be hired as a claims adjuster.  They would not hire me for that salary? Who was I kidding? For cripes sake, I was a woman trying to make it in a man’s world. I was hired and I started work, August 31, 1982.

Move over Killer, this girl is plotting her journey to freedom. She had done it before and she would do it again as she had the patience it required to plan, plot and conquer whatever she set her mind too, no matter how much you tore her down, deep inside, she was a fighter. For what Killer didn’t know about his “Beadie” was that she had already been to Hell and back and this second trip, although not a cake walk, was just a bump in the road to  her freedom once more.

My new boss was a woman who I grew to admire. She was twelve years older than I was and she was the supervisor of this new department.  We hit it off right away. I enjoyed working for this much larger company and I was able to meet many people from many different paths in life.  I was not so sheltered living in Killer’s world where you did not have friends.  We did not have couple friends. We stayed to ourselves, this is what he wanted.

Our neighbors the Stewarts had children that were Lucinda’s age.  They had lived across the street forever and when Killer was married to Mollie Belle, they would go out after dinner some nights for coffee and donuts.  Killer continued this ritual after we were married, but he went alone with the Stewarts.  I guess I was not “old” enough to participate in this adult activity or the Stewarts may not have approved of Killer remarrying so soon after Mollie Belle died.  It would be a couple of years before I knew the truth to this quandary.

Worm was closing in on her thirteenth birthday in late 1983.  In the summer of 1983, while she was down south visiting her mother’s relatives, I asked him if I could throw a surprise birthday slumber party for her in celebration of her birthday.  He was not budging on this one.  Have children in the house? Spend the night? Little teeny boppers screaming and screeching under his roof, was I insane? I worked for a couple of weeks trying to convince him there was nothing wrong with having a little party for her?  I laid out the plans to him.  Worm and I had talked about her friends and school.  I kind of knew who she considered her friends so it wouldn’t be too hard to invite them to a surprise party if I could just get Killer to approve of this.

Once again, I made a deal with the Devil and the rules were laid out as to what was expected of me and what I was allowed to do when throwing this little soiree. I called my Mom to tell her that Killer had agreed to let me have this little party for her.  She agreed to help me as I needed someone to assist me with six little girls overnight.

Worm was so surprised when she came into the house with my Mom that evening.  Her friends were all able to make it and Killer had left the house for the evening or he kept hidden.  He was not around from what I recall.  Mom and I made a little dinner for the girls and we had cake and ice cream. Games were played and they got to stay up late like teenage girls do and talk about whatever girls talk about at that age.  For one brief night, Worm got a taste of what a normal life looked like.

Guilt Is An Ugly Card to Play, but Effective Most Times

I was collecting unemployment.  Killer suggested I take the summer off and spend it with Worm but things were no different.  He still ruled his Kingdom.  I don’t recall doing anything spectacular as there were still rules that applied and needed to be adhered to.

Worm was going on twelve. She was your typical preteen child.  She tested the waters like any other child would, but somehow she always got snagged for wrong doing.  Perhaps it was because she was under such a watchful eye at all times.

Shortly after Shelby closed the doors, I asked Killer if I could have my family out to the house for a “reunion.” He actually agreed to this which was a bit shocking.  My parents, my brother and his wife, my paternal grandmother, her husband and my paternal grandfather came over for a cook out.

It was May 23, 1982.  How was I to know that this was the 50^th wedding anniversary of my paternal grandparents?  They were only married for twelve years and they had been divorced for close to forty years.  My paternal Grandmother’s name was Gertrude, but she went by Lucille or Lucy.  We referred to her as Grandma Joe as she had married her third husband while my father was in the service and his name was Joe.

Grandma Joe worked on the line at Fisher Body.  She took great strides in looking her best at all times regardless of being a shop rat.  She always got her hair done on Fridays. Back in the day she wore the infamous bee hive that most women supported who worked on the assembly line and she died it jet black until after she retired  and then she let it go naturally gray. Years later, my Grandmother would tell me to never dye my hair black as it made you look old. 

It didn’t matter how much time had passed or how many husbands she had had, she loved my grandfather who went by the name Kayo, more than life itself.  I recently read the diary of my great-grandmother, the woman who raised my father most of those twelve years my Grandma Joe was married to Kayo.

She wrote of the difficult times Lou (her name for her daughter) struggled through when Kayo strayed from the marriage. I guess time never healed those wounds cause I could see the torch burning in this woman’s eyes whenever he was around, which wasn’t much, but he did come around often in the summers on his motorcycle.  I adored this man for years, but I was the only one who could look beyond his flaws. Perhaps because I was a Beadle, like he was.

Grandma Joe took me aside to inform me this was the 50^th wedding anniversary of her and Kayo.  I thought I was going to die.  Her current husband, Joe, knew of the intense love she still felt for this man and handled it the best he could. Grandma approached Kayo like a school girl who had a crush on him and asked him if he remembered what today was.  He shrugged his shoulders, he had no clue but she went ahead and reminded him.  He ignored her commentary like only a man could do to a woman. You could see that she was hurt that he did not remember the day they were married 50 years ago.

Joe on the other hand was accepted by Killer.  He liked Joe who was Italian; I guess Killer didn’t hold grudges against Italians in his book of prejudices. But they shared a common bond for the love of cars, guns and paranoia.

Killer taught me how to shoot and often in those early years when we traveled up to the cottage, we would go out to the gravel pit and practice.  This stopped rather suddenly.  He may have realized he didn’t want me to be a sharp shooter with a gun or two in the house.

He set up a shooting range in the basement. I had cleared the basement out and it resembled a clean organized storage space, laundry room.  He constructed this target of a sort and the most I remember of it was he used a lot of thick phone books.  The target was up against the basement wall just under the kitchen and right of Worm’s room upstairs.

He was hard of hearing in one ear from his time served. He would put on his ear protection and go to the basement to target practice.  Worm and I would be upstairs, no ear protection and oblivious to the dangers of him shooting in the basement. He marched to the beat of his own drum and we were expected to follow suit.

I continued to wither, my spirit broken a little more each day. I could not grasp spending eternity in this hell hole.  I saw my Mother, a bitter woman who found pleasure in nothing and liked no one. 

Killer and I were standing in the kitchen one evening sometime after we’d been married for less than two years; it was probably around the time I was not working as I felt much trapped. We were discussing his methods of child rearing and his forms of punishment.  I felt that some of the punishment he applied was too harsh for an eleven year old.  He informed me that she was not mine and to stay out of it.  I crossed a line that I knew I should not, but I stood up for once and I spoke back in anger. I told him he could go fuck himself and I prepared to take battle as I knew I had just stepped in to my coffin. 

Killer came into my personal space and got right up in my face.  Just as calm and collected as he could be, not raising his voice above a whisper, he stared at me with those glassy eyes and told me to remember who I was speaking to and when I could talk in a civil tone and like a lady, he would be waiting for me in the library. I sensed in that moment the horror Worm felt as you really had no idea what he might do or was capable of.  

He turned and walked out of the kitchen and into the library to watch television.  I stood in the kitchen in utter shock that he would walk away from me in the midst of a discussion, but I knew not to pursue it or I would pay the piper.

Killer had many quotes that he pounded into our heads over the years; one in particular was “If you do the crime, you pay the time.” I was not about to crawl in to the library and apologize to that man.  I was an adult and I had gone through this control issue with my Mother, but my Mother was a saint when compared to Killer.

I pulled out the classifieds and went to our bedroom.  It was time for me to get the hell out of Dodge before I lost my sanity.  I was trying to figure out how I was going to swing the costs of living on my own from the meager unemployment I received.  Killer came in to the bedroom; I guess he had been expecting me to grace his royal presence and was alarmed when I did not crawl in to beg for his forgiveness.

He saw that I was reading the classifieds and I was not looking for a job.  He grabbed the paper from me and noticed I had circled several apartments that I was interested in. It was a Sunday as I recall as my plans were to start my search the next day when he went to work. I was making preparations to be more efficient with my time as I would only be able to seek this refuge when he was working.

He was quick to point out that HE would tell me when I could leave. Again pointing out that no one loved me more than Killer and I had promised him I would never leave him. Damn, pulled the old guilt card on me. He continued to berate me.  I was never going to find someone who would love me the way he did. He brought up my track record and how men always left me.  He was the only one that would stand by my side. He continued to tell me that I was not worthy of all he had given to me and this was the way I was going to treat him by walking out and breaking my vows? He brought up Worm and how I was going to break her heart as well, she had already lost a Mother and now I was going to walk out on her as well?  He told me she’d be left to pay for my stupidity.  That was my wake up call.

Inside, this brave little girl who stood up for herself so many times and never backed down, saw herself rear up and get right back in his face, but I had been broken and I did not want to challenge Killer at this moment.  I thought of Worm.  How was this poor little girl going to survive six more years of this torment? He would blame her for my leaving. She would be the one to suffer for my strength to walk out when I was long gone.  He had made it very clear, she was not mine and so the thought of taking her with me was not an option. I knew that I would not be able to support two of us and I really had no clue as to what options were out there for me, so I threw the classifieds in the trash, stood a little taller and my skin thickened a little more, I would have to tolerate this behavior if for no one else, Worm.

Secretly, I started my game plan for leaving Killer as soon as Worm was free of this hell we shared.