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This story was written in response to my older brother Ted's request for a detail chronology of the events that lead up to Rod calling Lyn a "Bitch". Ted first became aware of Rod's insults when I publicized them (to Fran) after Rod's escalating insults during his invitation to our parents Golden Wedding anniversary celebration. Rod passed my note onto Ted (to cover his ass if I didn't come to the party) then performed aggressive damage control. First Rod claimed I made it all up, then said he couldn't remember because of the years that had passed, then he blew it off as a "small incident" (which Dave was blowing way out of proportion). In a final twist, he changed his explanation to Ted that "Lyn Deserved It". It is easy to see (by anybody in the world but Ted) that such patch work responses are that of a five year old caught with his hand in a cookie jar or a career criminal caught with a trunkful of cocaine. Say anything, any lie that pops into your head, to avoid being held personally responsible! Ted asked me to write this note, which I did, then I chose not to send it to him. I have refused to do so to this very day. I sent him a moral challenge instead. I gave Ted my personal word that Lyn did not "deserve it", furthermore stating that NO Sister-in-Law ever "deserves" to be called a Bitch, in her own home, and in front of her husband. He vacillated and wanted to decide for himself. I challenged him instead to describe to me any situations where a sister-in-law would "deserve" to be called a Bitch, and he again vacillated. Unable to speak or even conger up such ridiculous nonsense. I will never provide him this story, because I do not invite him to sit in judgement and decide whether or not Lyn "Deserved" to be called a "Bitch". I waited him out. Enough time has now elapsed that there is nothing left for him and I to discuss on this particular subject. It is with a heavy heart that I finally publish my note here, for everybody in the world (except Ted) to read. |
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What events directly preceded Rod calling Lyn a "Bitch"? |
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This question is not as easy as it sounds. Where do I begin to discuss the path that brought me here today?
Shall I talk about the afternoon that ended in the famous argument? |
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Shall I talk about the years that elapsed after it - me in a
submissive fog to Rod? Shall I talk about the morning before my mothers funeral and Rod's final parting shot? |
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I could write a book ... and you know, I should. |
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The earliest snippet of Rods relationship with Lyn occurred at Rod's flat in East Dearborn. Lyn and I were either still dating or recently married. We had visited Rod and Rhoda several times (Jeremy was not yet born), and Rhoda and Lyn were developing a friendship. Rod had previously told me something in confidence (the particulars of which I cannot remember). As with everything then, and to this very day, I repeated it to Lyn at home (as "pillow talk"). That particular day, Rod flat-out told me to quit telling things to Lyn, because "she talks to Rhoda". He further stated that I shouldn't trust Lyn with information because "women stick together". Also, that "I would see" just exactly what he meant by that. Whether directly or by evasion, I did not promise Rod that I would withhold information from Lyn in the future. No further mention was ever made of Rod's marital advice of that day, although I do not believe I was ever again the recipient of any "confidential" information either. |
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When we moved from Denver to Michigan, Rod and Jeremy drove out to Grand Rapids to help us unload the moving van into our temporary apartment. It felt very cool to me to be back "with family". It was great to have a "network" of brother / helpers again. The four of us went to dinner that night and I sat in awe, my big brother was back in my life and the loneliness of Denver; the strange landscape, the weird neighbors, the tremendous job pressures, were gone from my life forever. I was home. |
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We had just moved to Dearborn, from Grand Rapids, and Rod was going through his divorce from Rhoda, while living between Ann Arbor and Lawndale, and working at the inner-city school for wayward boys (read that, juvenile delinquents). We had not yet really moved into our home when Rod approached me for a favor. His request was surprising, as Rod rarely asked me for anything, and it was almost surreal to hear him say "I need your help" (I believe this was the only time I ever heard him actually say that). I was actually elated to be of help to him and quickly and enthusiastically agreed to his request. The request was to store some of Rod's personal household effects in my garage during the worst days of the separation and pending divorce with Rhoda. It was a simple request to fill. We had only the one car, we were still barely settled in. He quickly brought over one small trailer worth of odds and ends. I remember my surprise at the mix of junk that he brought over to hide from Rhoda. A broken chair, old dishes in open boxes, an old mixer so dirty that I later told Lyn I would never eat food that ever touched it. I was so young and it was so strange to see how poorly Rod lived. As part of the arrangement, he provided me use of a power lawn mower he owned. I didn't even realize that I would need one, as my last house never had a lawn installed. I was thrilled to receive the gift from Rod, even knowing that I would eventually need to return it to him. But I was disillusioned by the mower's condition. I needed to buy a catcher bag, a spark plug, a muffler, a new blade, even new tires. I was excited to be the benefactor of my brother's gift. I was proud to use it to mow "my lawn" at "my castle". Later, I was disillusioned by the disrepair, and sad that I didn't have a shiny new mower. I was so young that I still thought money grew on trees. |
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During the first weeks in my new home, my next door neighbor proved to be a nut case, and a serious distraction to us. She was a loud-mouthed bitter old woman, constantly yelling at her crippled husband, at kids in the neighborhood, even at her neighbor on the opposite side from us. She decided that I needed to change the layout of a gutter pipe in my backyard. Her aggressive attention and accusations were disconcerting. At one point we learned that, while we were away from home, she had actually entered our back yard and physically moved the current gutter pipe. Later, she called out a junior city inspector who had also entered our backyard when we were not at home, with the old lady following right behind. I was angry and felt violated. This was my first real "home", back in my "hometown", and strangers were violating my property rights. I called the city and formally forbade anyone from entering my property unescorted. I told the old woman the same thing. Within a day or two, while we were out, Rod stopped by, opened the gate and entered the backyard, then opened the unlocked garage door and retrieved one or two of his items that he needed. Very quickly, this activity become a regular occurrence. I am no longer certain now if we learned of his visits by his telling us, or if we found evidence of a "burglary". However, I believe it was the old lady that told us that someone had been in our garage while we were out. You see, along with being a total grouch, and a trespasser, she was also a busybody and a know-it-all. In any case, I told Rod the same thing I told everyone else. He should figure out what things he needed and take them right then, or call us first if he wants to drop by later. He should not, in any circumstance, come by and get things from the garage when we were not at home. I locked the garage door with the cheap lock in the garage door handle. We also bought a simple $2 bicycle chain lock and looped it around the gatepost, securing the gate as a simple reminder to the old lady and any future city inspectors. A few days later, Lyn arrived home to see people standing in our driveway. It was a senior city inspector who, it turns out, was making fun of the old lady (who had been calling his office every day to complain about our gutter pipe). He was standing at the gate, leaning over the fence play-acting a look of extreme consternation, pretending to be Sherlock Holmes, inspecting the bicycle lock. Lyn came upon them as he was patiently explaining to the old lady (who, of course, was standing directly behind him, barking orders for him to go in) that the gate was locked and therefore he would not enter the yard without the owners permission. Lyn talked with him briefly, then invited him into the kitchen for a discussion out of the busybody's earshot. When I got home from work, Lyn told me how the $2 bicycle lock had enforced our property rights. I felt vindicated! I wasn't just some 20-year-old kid, I was a PROPERTY OWNER with PROPERTY RIGHTS. It was a total buzz for me that lasted several days. |
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A short time later, I was working in the backyard one Saturday when Rod dropped in unannounced. He was smiling and giddy and, with a twinkle in his eye and a smirk of a smile, told me that I'd probably like to know how worthless my garage doorhandle lock was. You see, he explained, he was taking two of "his boys" back to St Cecelia's home from an outing in Ann Arbor when, as he was driving by the freeway that passed near my house, he decided to just drop in and pick up something of his from my garage (not mentioning, of course, my explicit request that he do no such thing). He and the two "boys" drove in the school van over to my house where, of course, nobody was home (since he hadn't called, as I requested). He parked the school van in the street then, he explained, he and the two "boys" had to jump over my locked gate. When they found my garage door handle was locked, one of the "boys" quickly showed him how simple it was to jimmy open that simple door latch. (Had his juvenile delinquent charges not been with him, you well know that Rod would have broken a window instead, like he has done elsewhere). "Here", Rod said to me, "let me show you what my boys taught me". You see, Rod cheerfully demonstrated, I have a key from my garage door at home. It doesn't match your tumblers but it matches the slot. Now watch, he said, as he slightly cocked the handle and quickly slid the mismatched key back and forth in the slot like a saw. Slowly each cheap tumbler fell into place and the handle magically opened. He stated for me how he was very lucky to have those two inner-city 12-year-olds with him, (wards of the home for delinquent children where he worked), for his unscheduled visit. He would never have known how to jimmy my door open like that without their help. That was one pretty neat trick they taught him, didn't I agree? How did I feel? I WAS LIVID! I could actually feel myself seethe with anger. On the spot, I told him to have everthing out of my garage by Wednesday night ("trash night") or I would personally haul every last piece of it to the curb for the garbage men to haul off. I told him that if he ever hopped my fence again I would call the police and have him arrested. I told him that he was to never again, under any circumstances whatsoever, bring any of the street-smart court supervised juvenile delinquents from the St Cecelia home to my property. (And, of course, I never told anybody else in the family of the event, because that might make them "uncomfortable". Everybody in the family likes to say, "You know how Rod is"). Rod had no concept (and no interest) for his violation of me and of my new home. I had previously, on many occasions, stated my discomfort and distrust of the inner city kids and the street-smart stories he would tell about them at family events. He had flatly stated that my distrust of them was wrong, and would not address nor even recognize the fact that my opinion about their character and lifestyle differed from his. He simply told me how I was expected feel about "his boys". (Which was, of course, the way the he decided that I should feel about them). But setting aside my personal feelings about these two inner-city juveniles that were teaching my older brother (who was legally acting as their court appointed guardian on that particular day) how to break into suburban garages, it was a bigger fact to me that I took comfort in the total anonymity of my house in Dearborn. It was one of hundreds of look-alike cracker boxes lined up along street after street. But now Rod had carefully showed two inner-city kids exactly where I lived (actually chauffeured them to my very front door), pointed out that that we were often not at home, then gave them permission them to jump over my locked gate into my backyard. ("Dave's house is your house, boys"). Then he praised them for their street smart cleverness (instead of reporting them to the police or the school guidance counselor) for them eagerly volunteering to teach him how to break into my locked garage! Of course, with a twinkle in his eye and a smirk of a smile, he wanted to let me know that he had specifically and deliberately broken at least five separate and individual requirements I had placed upon him as conditions of storing his trash in my garage. He looked straight into my eyes for the entire time that it took him to tell me his story, never once expressing (in words or facial expression) regret, remorse, shame, or guilt about what he had done. To Rod, there was nothing strange, outrageous or irresponsible about his behavior on that previous day or with his regaling me with the story now. He presented his story, this direct conscious insult and violation of my word and my property, boisterously with a laughing voice and as if he did me a favor and I should be ready to praise him or thank him. He did not address (or even recognize) any of my issues or concerns. Actually, he explained to me that I was, quite simply, wrong. He did not care an iota about the very real problems I was having with my neighbor coming into my yard while I was away. He did not address that fact that Lyn was often home alone, and how it was disrespectful to her to bring convicted juvenile delinquents that obviously had no sense of "right or wrong" on an unannounced visit. Finally, Rod unilaterally decreed that he was right and I was wrong and this subject was never to be spoken of again. Stupidly I followed his directive just as Dad and Ted do to this very day. "You know how Rod is". It is always easier to say "that is just Rod" because if you bring up your point ten times, he will respond eleven and if you state your point one million times, Rod will respond one million and one. He will ALWAYS get the last word, and any attempt to hold a different opinion will result in either continuing on a particular subject for endless hours and you eventually giving in to Rod. Actually, I have now proved that Rod will hold his ground, with a total 'scortched earth' policy, for decades (while stating that it is 'the other guy' doing that, not him) . To this day, Ted says in best: "Just tell Rod he is right, it is not worth the work and you won't win anyway". (Followed by: "Who's hosting the family Christmas dinner this year?") |
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In response to my anger and ultimatum, Rod said that he would take the lawn mower back, too, (even though he had absolutely no use for it during the divorce). I insulted both him and the mower that day, calling it a piece of trash that I had to pay to rehabilitate. I remember the hurt look in his face. "You have no idea what a mower costs, and how much money I have saved you", he said. Years later I found out that he was right, when I learned that mowers were expensive and even shiny new ones needed new spark plugs and blades. I was very young. Rod was so very angry at me. He called me names. He stormed off. I believe that this was the first time that Rod accused me of being a "control freak". Of course, these days Rod calls me that name any time I state any opinion that is not "yassah boss", but that day was the day he (as he now likes to say) "figured me out". My unwillingness to readily embrace his violation of my home and sanctuary, my audacity at maintaining an opinion that he had already told me was wrong, pointedly proved to him I was a power hungry jerk. Dad and Ted are constantly amazed that I do not alter my behavior to minimize Rod's wrath. "It's just not worth it", they will tell you. Rod came back a couple days later and he got his stuff. He used the same trailer that he used to bring it. I was at home and followed him about, offering to help him load: "Don't touch my stuff". I explained that our relationship did not have to be strained or antagonistic. He lectured me about making my choice (but oddly enough, not about the choices that he made). He made sure to load up the mower and take it off, turning the tables on me so I was the one in a corner, with only a few days to find a new mower to cut my quickly shaggy lawn. Throughout his short visit, he kept his lips tightly pursed and his eyes were steely, the antithesis of the giddy delight exuded during his demonstration of what his "boys" had taught him to do. I was being punished. However, I was not angry in any way that day. My eviction was a simple, emotionless, response to his tresspass. Once he removed his things, I naively expected to return to a completely normal relationship with him. Rod and I have never discussed this event to this very day, and have made no progress on mediating or even exchanging viewpoints on his actions. Yet he harbors the resentment and still parrots the accusations he first made during that week. Decades later he stated to me, dead out, "I know what you are like" intermixed with his favorite assessment: "a control freak". |
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The weird part is that while Rod harbors his hard feelings and makes his false accusations, he graciously overlooks them during the period up to a family event. Of course, he does not actually warm his heart. He actually has hardened it. But he graciously "overlooks" the fact that I am a "control freak". Of course, his largess ends halfway through each family event, when Rod starts to dig into me with biting comments and hurtful stories (real or imagined) about what a bad person I am. His final one was to teach Jeremy, his son and my nephew, to call me "Uncle Crap in the Pants". HAR! HAR! HAR! HEY EVERYBODY, JEREMY CALLED DAVE "UNCLE CRAP IN THE PANTS". Merry Christmas everybody. And, of course, Dave is "blowing the whole thing out of proportion". (After all, Rod has already told us that Dave is a "control freak"). C'mon Dave, "I was just kidding." "Can't you take a joke, Dave". Ted had advice on this subject: "Just walk away and pretend it didn't happen". My desire is to air the root grievances, exchange and grow to accept our differing viewpoints, celebrate our uniqueness (honestly, not falsely), heal the wounds, and have an honest and sincere relationship. I took Ted's advice and "walked away" from Rod, but I did end up walking all the way to Florida. |
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The period directly following these events is surreal. Of course, Rod never apologized for violating my home. When he complained about my unfairness to him, both Lyn and I readily accepted his irrational behavior as legitimately part of my birth family. We did not complain or even publicize our case. Within minutes of his leaving, we felt no anger. As always. And as would continue for the next 10 years, whatever Rod did to me, regardless of its raw audacity or scale, I would feel nothing and I would say nothing. Of course, this affected family events (more about that later) but I cannot remember exactly how time passed between Rod's violation of my house and his violation of my wife. I do know that the two events occurred only a few months apart, and both in warm weather. It seems sensible that the garage occurred in summer (during my move-in), and the other occurred the following spring (during yard improvements). That makes the most sense to my recollections. In the months that followed the day that Rod and I had our disagreement about "Break-in" vs "Control Freak" there were no particular one-on-one social visits between him and I, and I believe only a few family events. I recall this because at one of those events I was careful to sit down with each member of the family (Dad, Mom, and Ted) and discuss an event that had occurred several years previous to Rod's break-in of my garage, and learn their feelings about it. |
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Several years previously, Ted and Rod, while much younger, rode their bicycles 30+ miles out into the country for a day trip to a state park. On their way home, something went wrong. Either Rod was hurt, or his bicycle was damaged, or he was tired and couldn't go on. As luck would have it, an old family friend owned a small farm near the route to be taken by Ted and Rod to return home from the park. They agreed to split up. While Ted would continue to cycle home, Rod was to stay at the farm. With nobody at home at "Buck's farm", Rod was to keep a low profile and spend the night sleeping in the hayloft of the barn. As soon as possible, Ted would send someone back in a car to get Rod. Once Ted had left, Rod took it upon himself to be unsatisfied with the hayloft. Buck, the farm's owner and an old but now distant family friend from the "old neighborhood", had a travel trailer parked near the barn. Rod decided that he was entitled to sleep inside that trailer instead of the barn, even though nobody was home and he was already "trespassing" just by sleeping in the barn. So he jimmied the trailer handle (damaging it) and went to sleep inside. Unfortunately for Rod, Buck and his family unexpectedly returned home. Rod figured they were in "the city" and not at "the farm" that night. Rod thought nobody would be the wiser to his actions. Buck immediately noticed the open trailer door and assumed the worst - that he had been burglarized or vandalized. When he found the culprit was Rod, he was livid. Buck always had a poor temper with his own kids, frequently yelling and swearing at them in front of us. I vividly remember the story of Buck yelling and carrying on, this time about by brother Rod. Dad always had an weird relationship with Buck, somehow friends but yet not close ones. Having to swallow Buck's anger was very painful to Dad, especially since Dad considered it justified. For the next day or so, everybody (Buck, Dad, Ted, and Mom) took turns telling Rod that he had showed very, very poor judgment. However, at that time (and to this very day), Rod was adamant in his opinion that he was in the right. He quickly labeled Buck unfair and ridiculous (at sixteen, he had never heard his new all purpose phrase "control freak"). In Rod's strange mind, he had done nothing wrong. He was not responsible for the damage and upset caused to Buck, and the resultant shame and ridicule that Dad received. And everybody else was just plain stupid. And Buck, of course, was christened a "hothead". |
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At the family get-together (was it Thanksgiving, was it Christmas), I specifically brought up the story of Rod breaking in to Buck's trailer. Everyone had considered this event "old news", and me to be weird for bringing it up. While everyone totally agreed that Rod's behavior was wrong, nobody would address the bigger issue: that Rod had never taken responsibility for his poor judgment. Nobody had even considered the thought that he should ("you know how Rod is"). Rod had evaded taking any responsibility, had showed no remorse whatsoever for his actions, for the property damage and aggravation to Buck, for the hurt and shame and aggravation to Dad. A matter of fact, Rod still considered himself a victim of everybody else being "unfair" to him about this event. But more years later, at a future family holiday dinner, Rod would loudly laugh and pontificate about how stupid everyone acted over his perfectly acceptable behavior that night at Buck's farm. To Rod, Buck was an overbearing jerk, the rest of us were stupid, and he was an undeserved victim of abuse. Yikes! While everybody disagreed with Rod's behavior, nobody within my birth family would ever directly hold him responsible for it or the ancillary outcomes. Rod always made sure it was easier for us to just go along with his loud and boisterous sing-song blame and excuses. He was always the victim of other people's actions. It was no wonder that he felt perfectly confident about breaking into my brand new home while I was away. Why wouldn't he? |
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So after several months of either a strained or non-existent relationship with Rod, (and several totally unmemorable family events), it somehow came to pass that I somehow invited Rod and his new girlfriend (and future second wife) Marion over for a double-date dinner out with Lyn and I. I believe I initiated the invitation, although Rod may have initiated it and, at that time, I would have gobbled up his attention. He would also bring Jeremy, who was around kindergarten age. What is amazing is that someone (either him or I or somebody else) made this invitation without ever resolving or even addressing the events around Rod's garage break-in. Rod's never expressed remorse regarding his actions. Certainly I never apologized to him for being "rude" by retracting my offer to store his things in my garage. I guess it was somehow decided that "we were both to blame" and therefore there would be "no apologies" necessary (this is Ted's favorite phrase when trying on the role of Solomon). While Rod continued to blame me, I stayed silent. Somehow, it seems, we all just decided to pretend it didn't happen. Just like Ted does to this very day. So on this particular spring Saturday, Lyn and I were to join Rod and Marion (they were dating, as the divorce from Rhoda was not final) and Jeremy and have dinner at a restaurant. They were to arrive around 4pm. This would allow Lyn and I time to work on a landscape project in the backyard that day. We would be plenty tired and plenty hungry by 4 pm. |
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This visit was late in a period of rising intolerance by Ted of Rod being tardy for family events. Ted was working as a bus driver at this particular time, and often quoted his expected arrival time as "5:07" or "8:13". Rod was habitually tardy to every family function, usually by exactly two hours. Ted would stand and announce when Rod finally arrived (loudly to get everybody's attention), "Well its two hours late, and here's Rod". No matter how crudely, how loudly, how boisterously, or how cutting Ted's remarks were, Rod just laughed them off. "Aw, you know I got tied up" he would say to Ted. Ted would loudly announce that next year we need to tell Rod a time two hours before the actual start time. "Christmas will be at six, so make sure you tell Rod its at Four" he would say, right in front of Rod, and while making sure he had everybody's attention. Rod would just grin and give an "aw shucks" response. After several of these displays at several family functions, Rod became increasingly belligerent back to Ted. "Just drop it", with a sneer, might be Rod's typical threatening response to Ted's wisecrack, as the scene was repeated time after time. So it was completely without surprise when the 4 o'clock dinner came and went without Rod showing his face. Our backyard project took longer than we estimated so Lyn and I simply continued to work, growing increasing sweaty, tired and hungry. By 5 o'clock we started to laugh and sing-song Ted's various comments. I remember saying that we forgot to tell Rod to come for dinner at 2 o'clock so he would be there in time for four. It is weird how Rod never once took responsibility for his repeated rudeness to the entire family at our holiday events. Why should he? Everybody quickly backed down when he shot a glare or said a terse or cutting insult in response. Nobody ever considered holding him responsible or simply not inviting him to a family event. So it was a total crack-up when, at exactly 6 o'clock, Rod's blue Toyota backed into my driveway. I actually laughed and started to put my tools away. I was sweaty and exhausted, starving and wearing my "work clothes". My mind started to go a mile a minute as I mentally considered how Lyn and I would shower, where Rod and Marion would wait, what Lyn and I should wear to dinner. Little Jeremy ran in first, and started to play with either a toy or the colorful flowers in our backyard beds. I remember starting to tell Rod that he would need to give us a few minutes to shower and change our clothes and could he start to think about a place where we should all go to dinner. |
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I remember my total shock, my mouth must have dropped open, when he said that Marion and he had just come from eating dinner. Even though he had been religiously two hours late for every family event for the last three years, Lyn and I were, somehow in his imagination of that moment, supposed to push off at 4pm and have dinner by ourselves. The fact that we hadn't actually caused Rod to act impatient with us. "What do you mean, you just ate dinner?", I remember asking. "We stopped at Dad's on the way over to your place" he said. (By the way, this shows that he had already planned to make us wait on his tardiness). He slipped into his "Dumb Polack" pantomime. The one where he crosses his eyes and swaggers and blows air through his flapping lips while talking in false, Brooklyn-style, contractions and starting each sentence with a pause and "Duh,". This particular pantomime is usually used for the "dumb guy" lines in jokes and stories. "Wull, when we pulled up at Dad's, Dad said "Here they are" (meaning Rod and Marion), "jump in we're going to Dinner", Rod retold his response with the stupid-guy accent. "Wull OK Dad, if you say so", and he started to continue his story, about to tell Lyn and I where they went, etc. I remember actually leaning my head forward, raising one eyebrow and interrupting him by saying, "you mean you stopped and had dinner on the way over to our place?". Marion finished my sentence by starting to add "I told you not to ..." but Rod shot her a quick and effective glare (instantly turning off his "Dumb Polack" pantomime). Lyn instead finished Marion's cut-off sentence by adding, "That's OK, Rod gets to do anything he wants around this family". I remember my mind starting to race again for a quick compromise solution. I was starting to say that we could have a pizza delivered for Lyn and I to eat and that we could play cards or a game at the kitchen table, but I never got past "O.K., O.K., we can ..." Rod turned upon Lyn and, from a distance of 10-12 feet, pointed his finger at her and said tersely "I'm sick and tired of your attitude". I stopped mid-sentence and gulped a breath. After a second of total silence from everybody (Rod, Marion, Lyn and I) , I was the first to speak. I started, "Now Rod, be reasonable here, ..." and without retracting the finger that was pointing at Lyn he turned 15 degrees and pointed it squarely at me. |
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"Well I wish we could all be as reasonable as Dave". |
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He said this while swaying his head effeminately and with a sing-song voice full of syrupy sarcasm. Lyn turned to me and said, "Just forget it Dave, the evening is ruined". With that, Rod turned back at Lyn, now much closer to her face and without ever dropping his pointing finger. |
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"I've heard enough out you, Bitch" he said, "I don't have to listen to this". |
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With my heart pounding and my brain racing I can still hear, frozen across the years, the small but distinct gasp of breath that Marion inhaled immediately upon Rod saying the word "Bitch". (Why she later consented to marry Rod after witnessing his actions toward Lyn that day is itself an interesting ink blot). Following her gasp, Marion started a somewhat whiny and nasally sentence "nowww, Rod...", but was immediately cut off by him. Rod turned away from Lyn, faced directly at Marion and now pointing at her said angrily "That's it! We're leaving! Go get in the car Marion." Rod spun from Marion, across me, across Lyn and now pointed at baby Jeremy, who was playing near the flower bed along the far side of the yard. "Jeremy, GET IN THE CAR RIGHT NOW", Rod shouted. Barely able to breathe, I stepped forward between Lyn and Rod and, with my voice cracking, loudly stated, "I don't have to take that, you apologize to MY WIFE or you get the hell out of MY HOUSE". Rod spun back from Jeremy to me and shouted, "NO PROBLEM WE'RE LEAVING" then with a snort added "Jeremy, Marion I SAID GET IN THE CAR!" |
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As Rod's group generally organized and moved out the gate, and down the driveway to the Toyota, I stepped up my back porch, entered the house and went quickly to my bathroom. I took off my dirty and sweaty yardwork baseball cap and splashed cold water on my face. I looked at my own face in the mirror as I dried it and was more scared that I had ever been in my entire life. I suddenly remembered that they were going to drive off angry and shouting, and I thought of Doug, my neighbor in Denver that had been killed in a car wreck. I caught my breath, walked from my bathroom through my front room, and opened my front door. As I stepped onto the porch Marion and Jeremy were in the car and Rod was slamming his driver side door. For some unknown reason (starter problems?) he had backed his car into my driveway so it faced the street. This placed his side of the car toward me on the porch. Rod had his left hand on the steering wheel and his right hand on the ignition key as he started the motor. I walked down my front porch steps and across the grass to his door, his window was open on that humid summer afternoon. In the calmest voice I could muster I said. "Rod, please, please drive carefully. You need to go right now, but I do not need to have you get killed in a car wreck. Please promise me you will drive slowly." I reached my hand into his driver side window to shake and he took his far hand, now done with the ignition key, and shook mine. "OK" he said, and I took one step back. He put the Toyota in gear and pulled forward. I stood on my lawn and watched him drive off out of sight. |
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Our reaction immediately after they drove off is almost surreal. There were no threats, no vows, no shaken fists, no anger. Lyn and I simply sat on the back steps dumbfounded. I remember just shaking my head and saying over and over..."that was really weird". We did not decide to leave the family, to boycott family events, or to hunt down Rod to extract an apology or to seek vengeance. We did not punch our fists, or kick the dog, or shout or scream into the wind. We just sat on the porch (exhausted from the 2 extra hours of heavy yard work) and shook our heads. Then we stood up and took showers, changed into fresh clothes, and drove to Ram's Horn for dinner. Despite the directness and vulgarity of the confrontation with Rod, neither Lyn nor I felt "angry" about it that day. It was not discussed publicly or within the family circle for the next 15 years. That, too, seems surreal. More bizarre is the fact, that within 15 months of that day, Lyn and I attended Rod and Marion's wedding and wedding reception and did not mention a peep about the events of this day. We kept our mouths shut and our eyes averted to fulfill our role in my birth family. I feel that I have no possible way to apologize to Lyn for my neglect to protect her and her honor as a woman. Calling Lyn a "Bitch", like the garage break-in, and Buck's trailer (and dozens upon dozens of others outrageous events) quickly passed into the collective amnesia of my birth family. It was only after years of personal therapy, and Rod's dishing a series of escalting direct and arrogant insults to me years later, that I finally felt the unspoken anger that this event rightfully deserved. But by then, I was most angry about the fact that I had been trained, like a dog, to consider anything and everything that Rod might decide to do to be acceptable and unquestionable. In my birth family, you do not question, or even mention, that any one of Rod's actions (let alone the dozens upon dozens) are immoral, unethical, unfair, overbearing, abusive, or just plain wrong. Sadder yet, years later my silence during the period immediately following his calling Lyn a "Bitch" was held against me. It was as if my years of silence were not a sign of family maladjustment, rather Rod and Ted held it up as proof of an open ended contract to Rod that we would accept without complaint any action or statement that he felt like saying or doing to me or to Lyn. This was the tacit agreement of everybody else in my birth family (Dad, Ted, Fran), and on that particular day we fell right in line like lemmings. Years later, when I finally felt the feelings I should have felt that original day (and voiced them), it was obvious to everybody, especially Rod, that I was a crazy person hell-bent on ruining the family during Mom and Dad's final years together. I would need to be put firmly back in my "proper" place. (And Rod was the one to do it). |
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As luck would have it, I had to go to Lansing on the Monday following Rod's visit, for a company meeting. Half of us came from Detroit, half from Grand Rapids, a few from the Kalamazoo area, Lansing was a nice compromise. I was still numb when I thought about the events of the prior week-end. Not angry, hurt, or urged to action - just numb. I was also extremely nervous (and shy) at attending a strategy session with all of my new employer's top management. I had no prior experience at offering new ideas, trusting my own judgment and opinions, or speaking up in group conversation among peers. It would be years before I understood that this seemingly "ingrained" aspect of my personality (being shy in groups) was a learned and enforced family role and not a genetic trait. Sadly, Ted never learned this. A new guy had just joined the company and I sat next to him at the meeting. We immediately hit it off and, to this day, I consider Hank to be a close personal friend. It was at lunch that we talked socially. In a sidebar conversation, I told the story of how I was newly back in Detroit, beginning to reintegrate with my family and how I had, for the first time ever, stood up to my older brother; how I had literally thrown him out of my house. (I often learn the most about myself when I talk like this to others). Here was the first time I ever put words to an obvious fact. I told him that I had always idolized my older brother. That day I first coined the phrase "childhood hero" to describe and understand my bizarre relationship with Rod. I also pointed out that my response, to protect my wife against my brother, was extremely out of character for me and was somehow, instinctively, a point of pride. I will always remember his response. His face literally lit up, his eyes twinkled, and with the most huge grin I have ever seen he grandly reached out his hand, shook mine firmly and said with vigor: |
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"Congratulations! You have just grown up!". |
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He, too, when younger, had hero worshipped someone that was no hero. He was somewhat older than me so he had faced down his demon years previously. We had a long talk about heroes and reality and self-validation. His enthusiastic and immediate positive feedback would prove to be the single words of encouragement I would receive on this subject for the next 15 years. Also, the second words of praise would come from my therapist in a private session (small consolation). To this day, nobody within my birth family has said anything positive about my courage that day, and Rod has wove an elaborate story of lies about what "really" happened that day (and how, of course, everything was actually somebody else's fault). Rod's only mention of this event, which occurred 15 years in the future and in response to my offer to finally air it and mediate a peace about it, was to pass off his angry insults of that day as "a small event that happened years ago". It was from that response, which I forwarded to both Fran (and Rod forwarded to Ted), that I finally came to understand that I would have my family and I would have my friends and supporters, but they would probably always turn out to be different sets people. |
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Rod's "day of infamy" seemed, for the next dozen years, to have no effect on my birth family, with two subtle exceptions. There was a period, for the next year or two where Lyn and I did not attend family functions. Rod's family rudeness and direct insults (and the family myopia about them) caused us to simply lose interest in socializing with the family. I must stress that we were not angry or short tempered, rather we were just bored! All family events eventually came down to Rod talking about himself and going around the room correcting each of us about our own opinions or feelings. He accompanied his lectures with loud laughing, a booming voice volume forcing the interruption of all conversation save his own, and stupid pantomime (including much of it picked up from the inner-city society of his students). The pantomime was often his reenacting his winning some recent verbal confrontation with a lesser person, often punctuated with Rod stabbing his index finger in the air at the imaginary chest of his imaginary opponent and barking "Now you listen here..." or "Now I'll tell you..." This period coincided with similar feelings of "let down" from the in-law side of the family for both Lyn and I. No positive feedback, no seeking out of our opinions, and (just like "my" side) very strictly enforced unwritten family roles and rules. "Conform to our expectations" was the theme from all sides. So it was logical that we consciously decided to reach outside the family for holidays and social events. We sought out old family friends, new friends from work or church, club members, new neighbors and old schoolmates to socialize and share. It was fun to shock everybody by refusing an invitation to a previously "mandatory" family holiday or event and to instead have a thoroughly enjoyable dinner and evening. The earth continued to rotate and, for once, we actually enjoyed our holiday time. When some months or years elapsed, we decided to again participate in family holiday events on both sides of the family. I do not recall the "first event" that caused the change in policy. My inability to remember makes sense since there was no formal policy in place to not attend such events, and therefore there was no earth-shaking decision required to begin attending them once again. It seems that it would have to have been a major event and also a non-holiday. Since everybody in the world celebrated Christmas, Thanksgiving, etc, we started to choose to spend those days with supportive and interesting friends (rather than family). It must have been either a visit of Fran and Scott or the wedding of Rod and Marion that was the catalyst for Lyn and I to socialize with the family again. This decision to socialize again was made without speaking of (or, obviously, resolving or even mediating) Rod's previous insults and inconsideration. He still stood his ground that I was rude to him that day (and that Lyn deserved to be called "Bitch"). |
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The first subtle difference was that, while Lyn and I did begin to attend family events again, I insisted that we do so with a childish passive-aggressive twist. If the event was anywhere besides Rod's house, I made sure we attended but arrived anywhere from 1 to 2 hours late. I made sure we entered grandly, never talked about our rudeness, and (weirdly enough) it was never mentioned outright by Ted or Rod. It would not become a conversation focal point despite my best efforts. Ted might say, "we were wondering where you were". Mom might say, "oh here are your chairs and plates", but nobody lectured us about being tardy. This was even though we were consistently tardy for all events that Lyn and I attended together from that day forward. Additionally, if the event was at Rod's house, we would always stop and eat a full dinner on the way over. I would have us arrive at a restaurant (sometimes hard to find one open on a holiday) at the exact time we had promised to arrive at Rod's. I remember once forgetting to do this on the way to an event at his house in Milford. With no time for pre-planning, I stopped at a convenience store and scarfed down 4 twinkies and a chocolate milk, and managed to arrive only 30 minutes late. Again, no mention was made and no attention was drawn. I remember Lyn was always quite uncomfortable about my childish defiance. While she participated, it was often with great reluctance and whiny lectures about my behavior being "not right". Once we arrived at Rod's, we would sit at the table and eat little or nothing. We would take minuscule portions. We would push the food around and eat only a few bites. While we did this, not a word was spoken about our being late or our barely participating in the holiday feast. I was always prepared to say that "we had dinner on the way over, that is how we do things in this family, right Rod?", but Rod never provided me the required straight line to elicit my prepared answer. Rod was always silent during my grand charade. Years later, Dad claimed that he and Mom knew what was going on, that he new all about the dinner, and the Bitch-calling, and my later shenanigans, but I feel in my heart that he is professing 20-20 hindsight. Consequently, throughout this period all family events were once again surreal. And it is easy to see how Lyn and I could lose interest in the whole institution of family get togethers. Over time, my childish pre-dinners and late-arrivals, along with the boring pontificating of "king Rod" caused Lyn and I to drift away from the family. Once again I must state, not with anger or with vengeance or even hurt feelings, as we were fully numb to Rod's unmentionable humiliations. We were simply tired of the broken record. |
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The second change was Rod's growing arrogance and antagonism toward me and Lyn at these holiday events. Until now, Rod's previous insults had never ever been spoken about afterward. Whenever Rod "explained" to the family who was at fault in a situation, his pronouncement stood unchallenged by the rest. We did not speak of it, but Rod did not speak of it, either. We stood by our "next to last" word made in the heat of the moment, but Rod stood by "the last word", his. He always had the last word, and to this day, he still always does. So the second unprecedented change occurred at a family function at Rod's house in Milford. I do not recall what event (Fran and Scott visit? Jeremy graduation? New Baby?). I sat at the dining room table, Lyn sat adjacent. Dad and Rod were standing nearby. I was speaking, in a normal voice, with somebody (was it Patty? or Marion? Or Fran?). Rod was talking loudly to Dad, always loud enough that everybody would hear each word of his conversation. At an event like this, Rod is always scanning the room to see if we look up distracted at a snippet or phrase he muttered. This way he could have us stop our conversation and instead join into his. Whatever Rod was saying to Dad, he added the line "I was trying to be reasonable". It was then that he stopped himself. He looked down at me and got my attention, by interrupting my conversation. "Hey Dave!" (he waited for me to stop my conversation and look at him). "I just said to Dad that I HOPED I COULD BE AS REASONABLE AS DAVE". Now that statement is itself bizarre. It is bizarrely constructed, off the subject, and I am quite sure that my conversation partner was stumped as to its significance (such that our own conversation needed to be interrupted for Rod to utter what is actually near nonsense). But Rod very carefully and consciously upped the ante between himself and I that day. He chose to remind me of my place in his world. He had been right that long ago day (to show up two hours late having already eaten) and I was stupid (trying to soften his stern response to Lyn simply being sick and tired of his rudeness). Lyn, therefore, was a Bitch (and to this day he will tell you she made him call her that). So, from this holiday forward, I was going to be expected to come to family events, to sit and listen quietly, and Rod, whenever he felt like it, would now invoke the previous insults (that ended in him calling Lyn a "Bitch") surreptitiously. We would be forced to either sit there and take it, or make a fuss about something that nobody except Rod or we would understand. We chose to sit quietly and accept the insult, which he hauled out and repeated like a holiday tradition and nearly every "family" event. So, I couldn't throw him out that day (we were at his house). And I am sorry that I did not stand up, put on my hat and coat, and simply leave. But I didn't, and from that day forward, Rod has never turned down the heat under me, finding new ways to surreptitiously turn "family celebrations" into opportunities to harass and needle. "Hey, it was just a joke". Today, I can finally understand my hurt, my own anger, and the sheer audacity of his insult. He interrupted me, at a so-called "family holiday" to pointedly invoke a totally sarcastic statement that he privately made to me immediately prior to calling Lyn a "Bitch" some 1 or 2 years previously. It was no accident at that "holiday" gathering. It was no "misinterpretation" on my part. He could (and would) re-invoke his insult to Lyn, in my face, and directly in front of his own Mom and Dad. When I accepted the insult, recognizing the reference but not replying, (I was in front of Mom and Dad, and we certainly don't want to "spoil the holiday" for them), Rod's eyes twinkled and he grinned instinctively. He would now add this bizarre nonsense phrase to his repertoire, and bring it out at almost every family event. If I had made a fuss about what everybody else assumed to be cryptic nonsensical blubber, he was ready to feign total ignorance about what set me off. He would have absolutely no idea what I was taking offense at. He would point out to Mom and Dad, standing right there next to him, that I must be crazy, ("Hey, All I said was..."). I know this not because it happened that day (since I just sat and took his grinning abuse) but because years later later I called his bluff, he responded to the "hidden" message in his cryptic public insult. His response was pathological. First demanding my total passive acceptance, then directly lying about me, then shopping his lies around to the rest of the family. Like trained dogs, they fell right in line, believing the aggressive and gregarious Rod (with his big puppy-dog eyes) over me. The lesson at Rod's hand is clear, take his abuse and be victimized once or stand up to him and be victimized twice. Ted has learned this and begs me to follow his lead. Of course, Rod will tell you that he has no idea what you are talking about. |
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At the time, I remember, a "flush" came over me - warm scalp, short breath, loss of concentration. But, sadly, I felt no anger, I felt no wrath. I did not stand up and deck him. I did not walk away from the family or from the event, or even from that very room that day. I did not, this time, defend my wife. I sat there like I had been trained to do, and like Ted and Dad lecture me to do. And I came back to later "family holidays", and Rod now felt that he could say or do anything at a family event, since I would be militant in private (standing up for myself and protecting Lyn) but be quiet and swallow his insults in front of Mom and Dad. With the realization Rod would see to it that all family events would always play this way, Lyn and I again drifted away from attending them. I must state that this was not done in anger. We never stayed home stewing that "we were wronged" or "we'll show them" for we both, literally, felt nothing. Quite the opposite. We stopped going to family events for the same reason most people don't watch daytime soap operas: the plot is silly, the stories are repetitious, and after you see a few they become, quite simply, boring. I was able to avoid family events where I was expected to play out my family role. I instinctively knew (finally) that I could grow to become myself only if I was off by myself. Luckily, events in my life took me away from Detroit, away from family interaction, away from the three ring circus of playing victim, playing "stooge" to Rod. I avoided these scripted reruns until the planning phase for Mom and Dad's 50th wedding anniversary party (Read that story). A year later, I was sucked into the family roles again at Mom's funeral (Read that story). But it was only on a later visit, to comfort Dad during the months following Mom's death, that I could come to finally understand where I came from to arrive at where I am. I could now, through an exercise like this written recollection, validate my own feelings, praise my own strengths, and confirm the events that occurred (the ones that nobody in the family is allowed to speak of). |
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It was 15 long months of roller coaster emotions and exhausting self-examination, that I worked through by writing these recollections. I wrote out my therapy and finished this self-healing exercise. I could finally think of me first, trust my own perceptions and opinions. That I could accept the failure of my original support network and the success of the one of my own making. That I could finally accept the role of Dad, and Mom, of Rod and Ted, of Fran, of me. That I could honestly see what is and what is not. That I can accept people for what they are and not what they ought to be. That I finally figured out that we were not the families you see on TV or read about in books. Some men are born rich and some grow up as orphans. Some parents beat their children and some send theirs off to ivy league colleges. I was born to be the 4th child, but I have finally decided that I will be the only person to define what that means. I can finally be at peace with myself, with my world, with my past and my future. I can be at peace in my heart. I finally have a family support network. |
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Copyright, 1999, All rights reserved |
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Originally Written: March 1999 |