The Wisdom of a Starry Night-Take 1

With whom would you like to reconnect?

Several Posts ago I mentioned purchasing a book entitled, "The Wisdom of a Starry Night", a book that combines works of art with introspective questions. This is the painting shown with the question, it is titled, "Postcard" and the artist's name is Fernand Leger.

The answer to the above question is the first I would like to unearth.

My father's second wife was the woman I called step-mother for the majority of my childhood. Her name was/is Michele, but she always went by the nickname Mickey. My father is currently on his third marriage (and I hope for him that the third time's a charm).

My relationship with Mickey was complex. My mother is a good woman, but she was bitter for many years towards both my father and my step-mother. It was no secret to me that my mother loathed them both. I loved and respected both of my parents, but I suffered the same struggle that I believe many children with step-parents experience; I didn't know how to love someone that my parent despised without feeling as though I was betraying my loyalty.

Mickey was an interesting woman, and very unlike my mother. My current capacity as pseudo-parent (possibly future step-parent) to The Good Guy's children has left me on many occasions ruminating about my relationship with Mickey. I've considered what she offered me, I wonder where she is now, and I regret that she isn't around any longer. I am remorseful that when she and my father divorced I wasn't receptive to her attempts at maintaining a relationship with me. I can't change the past, but perhaps I can pay homage to a woman who had a significant influence in my becoming the person I am today. Only now, as an adult, can I fully appreciate all that she offered, how hard she tried, and the difficult road she traveled prior to becoming my step-mother.

Mickey and her two sisters spent their childhood being bounced around in foster care. I don't recall the circumstances that lead them to this fate, perhaps she never told me, as it was too awful to share with a child. She shared with me the following story and it haunted me for years. It gave me a sense of how far she had come, and how many obstacles she had conquered. I fear that this experience was one of many, and one of the few G-rated enough to share with a child. As she explained, there wasn't much regulation in place to protect foster kids when she was a child. Many foster parents took on their foster charges simply for the small monetary stipend. One such man allowed Mickey and her sisters to use one lone square of toilet paper each time they used the restroom. He would stand outside of the bathroom door, and they weren't permitted to flush until he determined that only one square had been consumed.

As an adult Mickey maintained a close relationship with one sister, the other I believe was lost to her within the child welfare system.

Mickey had a husband prior to marrying my father. She also had children, but her ex-husband gained custody of the children, and kept her from seeing them. My mother commented that a mother had to be REALLY bad to lose custody of her children in the day and age when Mickey did so. I was never privy to the particulars, but I can't help but wonder how on earth Mickey could have been a good parent, as she never truly experienced a loving dependable attachment to a parent.

Despite all of this, Mickey was a classy lady. She was creative, articulate, confident, and dependable. She was an excellent cook. To this day her twice-baked potatoes, macaroni salad, and blueberry pie have been unmatched by any others I have tasted. She loved to garden, and her backyard was always landscaped elegantly. Her Christmas wrapping and decorating were things of beauty, and to this day I strive to match her expertise. She kept a near immaculate home, and I don't ever recall hearing her complain about housework. I am well aware that she did the gift shopping for my birthdays and for Christmas. Though I hated her fashion sense (and the 'girly' clothes she insisted on purchasing for her tomboy step-daughter), I realized that she had done all of the work in choosing and wrapping the gifts labeled: From Dad and Mickey.

From Mickey I learned how to decorate a home, how to make a home homey, how to appreciate art, how to relax and enjoy a good book, that I like James Taylor, how to make faces in the sand at the beach, that a dog should be well trained, that confidence is attractive, and that a step-mother isn't always personified by Cinderella's step-monster.

I believe I was about fourteen years of age when my father sat down with his parents and myself to inform us that he and Mickey were divorcing. I remember being furious that he didn't tell me in private. I also recall that I couldn't name any single emotion amongst those whirling within the funnel cloud of confusion. I hadn't had the slightest indication that this had been coming, and was caught totally unaware.

Mickey tried to maintain communication with me, but I was a teenager and even my mother (with whom I resided) had a difficult time fitting into my social calendar. Splitting time between friends and two parents was tricky enough, so Mickey and I lost contact.

I am truly sorry for this. I could sure use her expertise in the step-parenting arena. Advice from someone who has been in the trenches would be extremely helpful on some days. However, I think the most resounding reason that I regret not maintaining contact is that I think she deserves thanks; a thanks she never received from me because I was too young to understand all that she offered. Now, I'm not delusional, or idealistic, the woman wasn't perfect (who is?) But at the very least, she should know that I now recognize all that she did, and all she attempted to do. I have no doubt that she cared about me, that she helped make my second home as important as my first, and that she made my childhood more full just by being around, and offering me a bit of herself.