HOME | Inside the Mind of Isadora

***** In the newspaper this morning, there was a story reported about an elderly man who was struck by 3 youths when he answered his doorbell. Passed out on the floor, they ram shacked his home searching for everything they could steal from him then drove off with it in his car. It brought back an unfortunate memory about our home invasion I’ve written about here.

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It was a small little ad posted in the newspapers Police Blotter.
It read:

Suburban Home Invasion

In the quiet suburban community of Long Islands,
North Babylon, burglars invaded a home on New York
Avenue on October 28th. Police are looking for the suspects. Anyone with information, please contact: Officer Smith (212) 000 – 0000

My home invasion was in the newspaper. Thoughts of the night before rushed into my mind as I read the report. A violation of my family’s security was diminished to a small blurb in a newspaper police blotter.

I could hardly believe my eyes when we drove up our driveway and saw the house lit up. It looked like a Christmas tree dazzling bright. The house looked like a party going on inside. We had left our security lights on and connected to our very reliable timer. It was set to turn them on and turning off. We assumed the timer had broken leaving the light on constantly.

We had left for the weekend to attend a family wedding. It was a two hour drive there and back. We decided to stay with family. My three children would attend the pre – wedding events. A neighbors’ daughter would babysit at my in-laws for the wedding ceremony. My husband and I were excited to have a little weekend get-a-way. It was a rare treat for us.

They must have been watching the house. They had to have known about our being away. They had a good time at our expense. They had a destructive vengeance towards our way of life.

Did you find pleasure in smashing those pumpkins my kids had decorated for Halloween?

Were the shampoo bottles you punctured and carefully placed among clothes, allowing them to ooze out, a source of great elation?
Was the beer you splattered all over the walls, creating a sap of sugary syrup everywhere, a joyful contest amongst all of you?

How about those newspapers you rolled into wads and placed very carefully in the oven for a fire to begin give you a blissful feeling?

And those dark blue police uniforms you decided to cut-up, pour oil and crack eggs all over a sign of your indifference and defiance of authority?

It breaks my heart when I remember the look on my children’s faces. They were so overcome. The thought that someone could be that destructive in their home was incomprehensible to them.

We all cried.

Our house could have been burned down to the ground.

I guess you had never cooked anything in your life. The oven hadn’t been turned on; at all. It was the timer you set. I am so glad you hadn’t gone back to check. I am so glad you didn’t burn our home.

Did you enjoy yourselves?

The police said it was several of you. There was too much destruction and damage for just one scoundrel. You have chosen your life of crime but it will catch up to you.

Maybe, you like scaring people.

Maybe, you wanted to buy drugs with what you stole from us.

You may have gotten away with damaging and stealing from our home but you will be caught. Criminals always are. They never think that they will be outsmarted.

But, eventually, they are.

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***** This incident occurred in 1973. It’s something that lingers despite the years that have passed.

Father’s Day Musing

It’s Father’s Day. Today, we get to “Thank Dad’s” for all the things they do.

The truth is that my father was a harsh, brutal, cold disciplinarian. He ran his household with a military reign. He was in the army at age 16. He must have been a good soldier because his children learnt to be good ones, too. Intense physical discipline wasn’t out of the question. It could get quite bad. But, today is a day to remember Father’s in a good way. Here’s a memory that has some happy moments.

We went to the beach twice a month from May to August until I was seven years old; then, it stopped. He’d get all the food ready the night before: fried chicken, potato salad, watermelon and cool-aid. We were in charge of getting the blankets and towels.

At 5:00 a.m. we were up. Within an hour, we were scurrying to get out the door. We went to a beach on Staten Island, New York. He took the ferry over. When we’d get to the pier, I was always fearful that our car wouldn’t cross onto the ferry and we’d be floating in the water.

On the deck, we’d watch the ferry speed through the water and pass other ferries on their way back to pick up more cars waiting at the pier. The wind would blow through your hair with that early morning crisp wet mist from the splashing waves. My hair was a ball of fluff by the time we’d get there.

The beach was always deserted when we arrived.

Who gets to a beach at 7:00 a.m.?

It was clothes off and in you go. Anyone,usually me, who was afraid to go in the water was tossed in. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t swim.

“It’s time to learn”, he’d say.

Food always tasted better with sand and salt from your wet lips in every bite. Barely 11:00 a.m. we were fed and dry. Now, it was time to head home.

He seemed to enjoy those beach days. It could have been a memory from his service days. He never went to the beach as a child. He grew up on a farm. He farmed all day. He left at 15 and joined the service to get away from his new 22 year old mother. His Mother had passed away when he was 14 leaving 8 siblings for him and another brother to care for. His life wasn’t easy. He showed the anger, suffering and pain on his face all the time. After he passed away, it took years for me to understand that. I wish I had better memories. Unfortunately, I do remember the summer I spent kneeling on bathroom tile for 3 hours every day as penance for bad behavior. I haven’t gone to that emotional place yet.

Strangely, I don’t resent him. I do love him in a distant kind of way. I feel that many of the things he taught me have been positives in my life. I maintain a very clean household. I can cook masterfully. I enjoy the arts, reading, culture and religion because he expected us to know all of them. I’ve been a disciplined hard worker all of my life both as a mother and as a business woman. He did the best he could with the skills he had.

I thank and bless him for the life he gave me. I hope that he is happy with his Mother in heaven.

Happy Father’s Day Dad …!!!

What is the Best Time you ever had With Your Dad?