hen I was 4 years old....my mother
and father and I were at sears....my dad was looking at tools...and mom and I were in the
main aisle... I remember some fascination with multicolored (dyed) popcorn.... a lady came
near my mother and I...and said to me..."oh my...what beautiful curly hair!" I
smiled and touched my hair with my hand.... immediately, my mother's face was close to
mine.....I'll never forget the look on her face.....or the tone of her voice....as she
hissed in my ear...."nobody likes a proud little girl!".... my moment was
dashed... she ripped that smile from my face and my heart with those words.... I think
that incident set the tone.....for how she raised me......and how our relationship would
be.... nobody likes a proud little girl? what a thing to say to a child..... I had to
dredge pride from the very bottom of my soul later in life....much later....while I was in
the midst of reconstruction.... I had to try to repair and rebuild....
mothers aren't always right.... however, no one tells you that.... you're raised believing that moms are gods.....and that they love their children...all of them...and equally.... it wasn't until I realized that there are untruths in these ideas.....that I was able to even consider reconstruction....much less, undertake the task.... it was a huge venture... lots of data to look at and analyze....
but, my mother's lessons were not totally without merit.... she taught me how not to raise a child.... and I paid attention when I raised my son...