The Sweet Aisle

First thing I want to do is to thank Vince and Tammy very, very much for being such good friends as to visit and go through things as often as they do with us through the writing. You guys are soooo, soooo neat!!  Just love you to pieces!  :)

We’ve had a very good day. It is now about 6:30 pm and I know my practice is to usually write in the morning, rather than the young evening, but today we had off and pretty much filled it up until now. We weren’t ready to write at our normal time and couldn’t better what we’d written the day before ... and mercy, we do write long entries!

Anyway, I met with Dr. M. At 8 am this morning. After that, we sat in the car and the rain and wrote and wrote. Anniemi was out with Dr. M. the whole time and we spent most of their time in and around the incident yesterday with the candy bars. After that we stopped and picked up Chinese to treat our friend, then he left and we took a 3 hour nap and now is now!

What I’m going to do next is to type out what had been written in the car. Just very, very cool stuff!

"Today at Dr. M.s, Anniemi was out. We think. Her knowledge and wisdom was more like Jesse’s so it was confusing. We thought she’d been much younger. She had a whispery, raspy voice and sometimes had trouble collecting her thoughts to words. She appeared to know everything in general that is known to our adult parts, plus had more ability than some on a theoretical level. And, she had memory of childhood events that not all of us have. We believe she has an easier time capturing thoughts of the two Casies and Annemarie (Dear Heart).

She was also able to stand closer to Dr. M. in that she asked to and was weighed. 4.2 pounds difference in 10 days! Yahoo!!

Fairly early on, she asked Dr. M. To read the journal, which he did. The main conversation, after establishing that we had read a few journals over the weekend was in regard to the events surrounding the need to go to the store. This took quite a bit of time collecting information in both present and past tense. There was a two part conclusion. The first was that Annemarie does have something she values, maybe more than Death. She valued getting that candy bar. Secondly, she might be associating getting the candy bar out of love and independence.

This is a revelation to us!

Most of this understanding came through parts of the systems experience from Anniemi’s memory.Anniemi was recalling going to the families little store in back of the houses across the street when we were growing up. Anniemi has been here since about 5 years old. There was an open field after having cut through the neighbors back yards. And, on the corner was the little store. It could be reached without crossing any major streets. Any spare change was used to by candy or ice cream. We could do this on our own.

The next memory was in going to our father’s gas station at these very young ages. To keep us occupied, our father gave us the job of folding cloth rags that were at that time used for washing windows and checking oil. The window rags were a manilla white and the oil rags were brownish orange. If we folded all 3-4 bundles (so the gas filling attendants could grab one quickly). The you could earn a quarter which could be traded for candy, or in later years 3 for a quarter comic books. There was a store for this, right across a non-busy street. We are also remembering now getting the newspaper and circling letters and words we knew.  We could do all this on our own.

The third memory was about when we were twelve years old (Kelsie’s time). My father had gotten a bigger gas station with one of the first little food stores attached. Gas was still being pumped by an attendant. Would have been about 1971? Seems right. At this time, our father had the family taking turns working down at the gas station. My brother and I split six nights - 3 days a piece each week and my mother and younger sister would work down there Saturday nights. My father would open the store and work until the "workers" were out of school. This arrangements separated the family some and helped to cease a lot of in-house fighting. My dad worked his shifts on his own and the rest of us worked with older kids and adult males. He had gotten some of his workers through my brother’s boy scout troop.

This was the arrangements for about five years. My father lost his gas station with the international oil embargos. It was a time of panic and we had long lines of people at the gas station like a zillion miles long trying to get gas. And, he had to shut off the pumps early to preserve the gas. The business failed and needed to be sold. It was around the time of Nixon’s Watergate Scandal.

Any way, we’re regressing here. The point is although we were being paidapproximately $21-22 a 7-hour shift, the real psychological blessing was that there was an abundancy of "Free" candy bars, ice cream and pop. We also had large fridgerators which contained premade hamburgers to be microwaved for our dinner. We were in the habit of acouple of candy bars and cans of pop a night. Not to mention the ice cream sandwiches. The only catch is that you needed to mark down the purchase on a card left next to the register. So we did. There were no signatures needed and my father had mistakenly trusted the help (and us). It got to the point, toward the end that we were bringing candy bars to school to sell or give away to our friends. We were very bad.

The last memory was in regard to my favorite grandparent who was my father’s mother. She died when we were also twelve. From a very early age she gave us change or return pop bottles to go to her corner store in Minneapolis. She lived on the second floor of a two flat and the little store was two buildings down without having to cross streets. Going alone to this corner store was one of our all time favorite memories of early childhood. Of course, everyone knew everyone so it was safe.

Our Grandmother was a Lucy in a Lucy and Ethel type relationship with the older couple downstairs. I just remembered that they owned the building and he was a retired firefighter named Stan and her name was Vivian, or Vi.  My Grandmother's name was actually Ethel.  We would always stop in to say hi when we visited. They like my Grandmother used to give us small change to go to the store, as well as introducing us to the popular troll dolls. They also had bottles to return. At the store our favorite candy was the sweet necklaces or red licorice. We also were passionate about getting orange crush pop and drinking a whole bottle on our own.

Each of these events were most likely chained in our brain (Annemarie’s mind), as acts of independence and from my Grandmother, love. We were aware early on of my father's equivalency values of raking the yard, cleaning the house, or folding rags. From him money was always a trade-off for labor. Maybe due to the fact he and my mother were on their own to survive financially after becoming pregnant with my brother when they were 18 and 17 years old.  They had three children by the ages of 21 and 20.  The difference was at my Grandmother’s house, we were treated out to the goodies only out of love and her pure delight in us.

Today, this appeared associated in thought with the importance of taking ourselves to the store for a candy bar. Oh, there was one more story. My Grandmother kept sweet fruit candied slices arranged on a platternext to a candy dish next to the living room couch. This is actually quite different than the cookies the other Grandmother left for us. But, ties hand in hand. One of our problems of late has been one of our Saturday rituals ofstopping by a little store to pick up candy bars or orange/fruit slices. Never put the two and two together though. It had seemed that we were "taking care" of ourselves. My Grandmother’s candy had come from a fancy box with a thin gold elastic cord from Brach’s or Fannie Mae.

The thing was with her we were free and happy and loved. Which is quite starkly different from our relationship with most other family members, particularly my mother's father who had done the sexual abuse, and the physical displays of rage and anger between my mother and father. The males in our family, both Grandfather's and my father were alcoholics.  Hmm, I’m wondering now if the stealing food from him was connected to some kind of unconscious payback. I know there were food control problems with our mother that were very bad. My sister was the one who was anorexic.  My mother's mother was very German and her father had been Danish and French.  My father's father had been English and My beloved grandmother was Norwegian.  Maybe this was all too ackward of a culture mix.  I would have been born only 13 years after the end of WWII.

Anyway ... my Grandmother’s husband, my Grandfather, had died a month before I was born and two months earlier than that my Grandmother had lost the second of her four sons to a military funeral. Always etched into our brain, and maybe due to the fact my brother was the first born, but still another boy, was that we were to have been the first girl child in the family. I believe this weighed heavily into the relationship I had with my Grandmother.  We were her special treat.  There were nights and weekends and parental vacations, where the family would go, and I’d be left with my Grandmother. My sister was too young and fearful (tied to apron strings and often was forced to vie for attention between the relationship of her mother and father, where I simply separated from them). My brother didn’t appear to "need" my Grandmotheras I had.  He was being especially treated with boy treats such as scouts, fishing, sports and such by his father and mother's father. 

Our Grandmother took us to her wealthy friends houses (one was a mansion with a butler and runningfountain inside the entryway). And, she took us downtown on buses and cabs which at that time was still a luxury. She treated us out to fancy lunches where we would meet up with her friends. Hehe, some with big white puffy hair in shades of purple, green, or blue. It was set stiffly, or lacquered with hair spray. And, my how I remember those wonderful cake and pie desserts!

My Grandmother would fix our hair with extra ponytails, which made my mother angry. My mother was always angry with my Grandmother, but my Grandmother and I didn’t care how angry my mother was. I was safe from being physically abused as long as I could lean into her apron.  The relationship with both parents were very formal and strict to the degree, we called them, "Yes Ma'am, and Yes, Sir."  Our time was our Grandmother was fun and somewhat "silly."  She had been a flapper during her youth in a big city, where my mother's mother had been raised to be practical on a farm in North Dakota.  My favorite Grandmother had married later in her 20's where my mother's mother and my mother had both gotten married early because "they had to." 

But, as long as I needed to be babysat, my mother couldn’t stop the relationship with a Grandmother who showed love instead of discipline. This Grandmother used to let us test squirt her special perfumes as well as being treated to adventures in large stoned earings and necklaces. We'd help her vacuum and dust her apartment and she used to let us have our own coffee (mostly cream), make wonderful hot dishes, and we’d use to watch her on the telephone, or with her favorite television shows. Though the best of course, was Lawrence Welk. We also remember the buble baths and the little colored round balls of fragrances that would be dropped in the hot tub.

She read stories to us such as Curious George and the Boy with a Purple Crayon and there was another favorite where thousands of birds gathered to feed red berries to a dragon. Everything at her house was magical, including her tall fluffy satin bed spread and lacy pillows. It was a big deal to stay up on top of the bed without sliding off, because sometimes we’d get so tired that we couldn’t climb all the way back up without help of the fancywhitewicker chair next to the bed. This is where we took our afternoon naps.  Hmm, she had also a tall/thin shelf unit that held small carved wooden with ivory tusks and jade elephants and such.  She'd allowed us to play with them if we were careful.  They came from the son who had died while stationed in Japan and were very special to her.

Shoot, this has been a whole lot of remembering for one day. Our minds have been inundated. Thing is ... this whole candy/food thing, we believe is part now of Annemarie’s strength. She hardly tolerates leaving the house, but she will walk by her self and receive not only the sugar, but the warm fuzzy feelings from walking down the sugar aisle. Other than this, it would seem most her memories are tied to what she perceives as safety through being dead. She holds out in dark corners of our being, and now KC joins her.  It would be no big surprise at this point, to be realizing why Dear Heart has remained behaviorally that of a twelve to thirteen year old.  KC is 9.

All this is important, because of our belief that Annemarie (Dear Heart) as she is now most often called was the one of us, our core, whom we believe were to have been divided from. Today, we feel a new sense of hope in the knowledge and understanding that she can be associated with our deepest feelings of love and independence. We believe that what is conscious can be worked through.  WoW! Incredible experience!!!

For now, the rain has stopped. We’ve been delighting in the thought of surprising our friend with treating him to our new favorite Chinese place!  He’ll be stopping by in a couple of hours, so we need to now pick up the food.  It's open."

*Sigh* So that’s the scoop! We’re back to real time. Need to figure out where we are at now after having read our thoughts once more. Hehe, did we mention that my Grandmother worked as a typist? Just likely another of many long reasons we don't often leave this keyboard? I don’t know...

We’re thinking pretty soon time for an ice slushy. Not one single gram of sugar!!! 4.2 pounds lost, Yipppee!!  Maybe ... somehow we will be better now to think and help Dear Heart through strengthening bonds of love and independence. You think?!  One way or another, thank you very much for reading us!  It means a lot.