Chapter 20
Building A New Home
If you think building a new home is easy, then you don't know my Ma and Aunty M. Mr. Stringham was going crazy as they stepped in changing the plans adding this and that to the point he would scream. When he and Ma had that nice little chat; apparently, she forgot a few things about what she wanted. For example, four fireplaces; one in the family room and one in the master bedroom and most of all the living room and nursery and playroom; the extra window for the little breakfast nook for reading or having tea. When it came to these women, nothing was set in stone, not to mention a fruit cellar and a large one at that, with a big pantry in the kitchen. The list went on and on.
It got to where he had to rip up the plans and start all over. Sitting down with everyone until all of us compromised on a final plan. The house seemed to get bigger than it had been pre-drawn. We ended up with each of us having our own room except for Sam and Ted. They would share a room with Aaron when he came to visit. We had three guest rooms. Ma held her ground about that; losing the breakfast nook and gaining a larger nursery and playroom, which could be converted into two smaller rooms later on. With three full bathrooms instead of two and a half; one for the boys and guest upstairs and one for the girls and the little ones downstairs, and one for the master bedroom.
Pa decided it was time to add central air throughout the house and with the bonus of using the fireplaces during the winter for heat. Then, with the air conditioning during the hot summer months, instead of a fan in every room that didn't even do any good, would help with the electric costs.
Ma wanted a larger kitchen twice the size as the one she had before with a large island in the middle with room for two large fridges that could sit side by side and two stoves one against the cabinet wall and other with the island, and a small sink so she wouldn't have to go back and forth. Her dining room was large enough to hold twenty people for special dinner parties: Birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, and other social advents. The living room would be twice the size it was before, with adding a family room off to the side. She also held her ground about fireplaces compromised with three instead of four, losing the one in the nursery and playroom.
The porch would extend all the way around to the back with an overhang for outdoor eating and dancing. With sliding glass doors that would open from the dining room; instead of siding, she wanted a red brick with large bay windows in place in the living room, family room; kitchen, and the main upstairs hallway. The size of the house was breathtaking; with a small deck, balcony to look over the valley. When Ma dreams big, she dreams big. There are no two ways about it.
It would take five, maybe six years for Pa and the boys to build it. Just the lumber and materials alone would break the bank and they hadn't even scratched the surface of furnishing it. If it wasn't for Aunty M, none of it would have been possible. For Pa's birthday, she gave him one of Mike's lumber mills based in Heber Utah, and a cattle ranch based in Nephi, Utah that included four hundred steers- fifteen bulls and five hundred sheep and bought an additional three hundred acres nearby for some cattle and sheep.
She gave Ma and the girls and her best friend, Renee Whitmore two hundred acres (about half the total floor space of the Pentagon) of the finest cotton based in Arizona with a small fabric mill; on the conditions that they continue helping their farming neighbors anytime, they needed help. Pa and Ma were stunned when they read the deeds.
I should give you a little more detail about these presents Aunty M was giving us. When Mike and Aunty M were a young couple; they came from nothing, barely able to hold their heads above water. Deep in debt, trying to build a home before her first child was born. Mike met a stranger at one of the places where he worked; I think it was the coal mines or another sheep's ranch. Back then everyone had two jobs just to make ends meet. The coal mine was always laying off people during the summer months, keeping just enough people to keep it running. Uncle Mike would hire himself out to work on farms or ranches to help pay the bills.
Anyway, he met this man, nothing but skin and bones; wearing rags and had a large family not better off than him and his wife. Mike invited him and his family to supper with them and offered him a job working on his small sheep ranch. They hit it off right at the start. In the years to come, they ended up partners in everything they did.
Traveling from job to the next and became quite rich as they pooled their resources together. They would buy working capital. Like farms, lumber yards, and small cattle ranches, and did very well in cotton. They did not let greed get the best of them. Instead, they invested in these small investments, making them larger, and at the same time helped any stranger that needed a place to stay and always had a job so they could support themselves and their family.
Every so often, they would hold a farmer's picnic and bring everyone from far and wide to help in the communities that needed help. They had a long list of jobs that their neighbors could benefit from and needed to be done. It didn't matter if these neighbors were dirt poor, nor had the means to live comfortably. They had learned over the years that people had good hearts and lived longer if they helped in any way they could.
You heard the saying, paying it forward. Well, Mike and Aunty M did just that, by giving away small pieces of their working capital to complete strangers who they had worked side by side with them, knowing what was in their hearts. They built trust and watched as these people give everything they had, thinking little of their own needs. They tested them by giving them everything they needed in return for their hard labor and watched to see what they did with it; hence, the test.
Some would take it for themselves and let others starve and would become bitter people. And ended losing more than what they had gained. Karma is a real S, O, B; as they stood by watching them lose all their friends, as the guilt drove them into the poorhouse. They would try to put them back on the right track, but had little success and in the end, they parted ways, watching them drift away. Then there were people like my Pa and Ma; caring more for other people than themselves; willing to give everything they had. No matter what it costed them.
These types of people are what make this country great according to Aunty M. as they continued to grow richer; they also become richer in the heart and in the soul. Aunty M knew Mike would be proud as she divided all their working capital with her family and finding people like the Downings to carry it forward, giving away the life Mike and she built.
She was a happy person and loved helping people just like them. She held no regrets when she died a year later. And the world was a better place knowing that her and Mike's work over the long happy years was still going on. Pa agreed to the terms of the contract to keep paying it forward. The same as her husband Mike did and others like him and my Pa. Perhaps you might find a farmer's picnic being held in your hometown. If so, don't let it pass you by and miss the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to enrich your soul. (For now, her time with us is not over, so there is no need to say goodbye just yet.)
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In my series, titled "What's Behind the Looking Glass." You will find she truly doesn't die and becomes something more. In fact, most of the people I have written about here have become something more. Others like Granny and Ned and Nathaniel aka golden eyes, and some others are just mere characters and sad to say I left them out of here, but their spirits remain strong waiting for you to read about them. To me, they are just as real as the people here I write about.
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Pa received a letter from a guy in the camp that he owned a brickyard in Eureka, Utah, wanting a small piece of land to raise his family on; wanting to retire within the next year or so. He was willing to donate it to help as many farmers as possible as he can to build stronger houses if Pa would find someone to run it. Again, it had Aunty M's writing all over it. She was a very determined woman when she needed something done. Pa agreed to the deal and gave him a piece of his own land to settle the deal; except for giving the man thirty percent of the profits and to keep it in the man's family so he can transfer it from one generation to the next so he would never go hungry or his family. Again, they made the deal by shaking hands and promising.
Building a home takes time and money, which we had neither of. It would take Pa a lifetime to raise the funds he needed, and time was not on his side. To say he had doubts would be true enough as he and the boys labored hard building the house. Ma hated living in someone else's home so she could provide for our family. But there was no way around it. They needed a home, a larger home to satisfy the State. Not the small, cramped barracks, as my mother seemed to watch our every move. Making sure that things were legit, for if they weren't she would have a foot in the door taking me away.
She and my father would see the Downings destroyed, and their children taken away. Just because they dared to intervene where she and my father believe they had no rights to do so. Until this very day, he hates them more than life itself; no one had the right to tell him how to raise his children. In his eyes, they had done nothing wrong. Sometimes my mother would sit across the street watching; other times, my father would sit for hours watching.
Several times Ma had to call the police to escort her and him away. After a month had gone by, Ma had enough, called the DDS to make sure they weren't neglecting their children by leaving them unattended or alone with my father. Mostly, she cared about Aaron being alone with him more than anything else.
To say she wasn't upset would say a rooster likes to get wet. Grandma finally took control of the situation, taking Aaron for the week to give my mother a break on the condition she didn't drop him off here. He was basically bouncing off the walls with being bored and having ADHD. My Grandmother would simply say. "The Downings didn't have a problem about how hyper he was."
My mother would yell back. "He's mine! Not theirs! Either you help me or get the hell out!" So loud that the neighbors would call Aunty M. Having her to go and save my mother from killing my Grandmother. I ask you, what did she expect? She refused to allow him any friends. Not that many would even attempt to come over. Or she never let him leave the house and didn't allow him to play in the yard. He was nine years old; she wanted to keep him tied to his room so she could control his every movement without the neighbors butting in.
Susan and Becky would ridicule him every day and would never spend time playing with him; he was a parasite as far as they were concerned. My father would take my sisters to the park to play, but leave him home. I knew about it because we would talk for hours as I held him in my arms. Wishing there was something I could do, but there was only one thing, and it was staring me in the face.
Every time I looked into his big blue eyes; I saw that one of us was going to have to give up our happiness. It tore my heart out knowing it. Yet I couldn't face the house of horrors or my parents. Somehow, I knew I needed to change things for my brother. And the only way was letting them beat me instead of him and leaving him to be alone to face this hard, cruel world. It would take time, and I mean lots of time, before I could even consider letting my mother near me. But I would for the sake of Aaron. I knew without a doubt that he would live a life bouncing from one home to another and end up like me.
To Aaron, my parents were the only ones he had. Even though I hated the fact of knowing the second, I stepped back into that home; my life would be nothing but misery. But having my brother end up like me; I would give my life to prevent it as long as I could. I needed answers about what to do. It was too big of a choice to make for a thirteen-year-old boy. My father and my mother scared me beyond any monster or boogie man hiding in my closet or under my bed.
Death doesn't scare me, for I had faced death many times. Jeff and I would argue back and forth about the choice I was about to make. I felt like running away so the world could hide me. But running away would cause more problems than achieving anything. I needed Ma and Pa to help me make the decision that wouldn't turn my world upside down. In the end, we decided it would not be in my best interest of returning only to end up dead in the months to come. Or they would send me to another foster home, considering my past and my parent's bad history. Aunty M nearly took my head off, giving me a very long lecture on how selfish I was being when they hadn't tried everything.
Aaron may be unhappy, but me going back would accomplish nothing, and only bring more heartache by losing me. So, in the end, we made the decision to find a way to compromise with my mother, and Aunty M personally arranged a meeting with a caseworker at the DDS for the following day.
From my records, his name was Tim Striker. He was an average height of most men and was bald as they come. His head reminded me of one of Ma's boiled eggs with brown eyes and a handlebar mustache. He was a down-to-earth kind of guy and a hard-liner when came to parents abusing their children and knew where to start when came to my brother's welfare.
Apparently one of Aunty M's friends of the "mucky muck" in the government that believed in children's rights; leave it to Aunty M when it comes to knowing the big guns when came to a fight. We became fast friends as we told him everything you have read and then some as he shook his head on the state of things about my parent's history. Nearly biting my head off for even suggesting giving up so easily on my own happiness, which would have only caused more problems than it would solve.
He met with my brother Aaron, taking him down for some ice cream so he could have a private chat alone. Aaron used to tell me everything back then and to say I miss our conversations now would be an understatement, but as I said early on, he has his own life now and doesn't need his big brother anymore to fight off the boogie man.
My mother was more than worried while she paced because she felt Aaron was now old enough to know what was going on, and it scared her. That he knew enough of the truth that could jeopardize them. For when he came back, she nearly bit Tim's head off for taking so long. I had learned this by eavesdropping on his and Aunty M's conversation. It's amazing what you can learn from heating vents in old homes.
In the end, he established a set of ground rules that she would need to adhere to if she wanted me back home anytime soon. As they reached an agreement, he dangled a metaphorical carrot in front of her. The atmosphere was tense, filled with anticipation and a hint of desperation. The room echoed with the sound of their voices, each word carrying weight and importance.
The sight of their faces reflected the seriousness of the situation - his stern expression juxtaposed with her pleading eyes. The smell of anxiety lingered in the air, almost suffocating. It was a pivotal moment, where the fate of their relationship hung in the balance.
The first rule my mother had to follow–was my mother had to stop causing problems with the Downings, for both their sake and mine. It was time for her to take responsibility for her actions, as the tension between our families had reached its peak. It was demanded by the second rule that she stopped pressuring me and the Downings. The weight of her expectations had become unbearable, and it was time for her to relinquish control. Which we knew firsthand she would not like.
Furthermore, he insisted that she stop treating my brother as a prisoner in his own home. The feeling of confinement and restriction had taken its toll on him, and it was time for her to understand the importance of freedom and compassion. Last, she had to prove to everyone that she could be a loving mother. Her actions had caused doubt and skepticism, but with genuine effort, she had the chance to redeem herself, if only she would.
To ensure her commitment, he required her to continue therapy and remain on her medications. It was a crucial step towards her own well-being and the stability of our family. If she complied with these rules, he promised supervised home visits, carefully overseen by him personally. It emerged as a glimmer of hope in the darkness, offering us a chance to rebuild what had been destroyed.
As Tim Striker laid out these rules, the room fell silent, with each word hanging in the air with a mixture of tension and hope. The weight of the moment was palpable, as we all waited anxiously for her response. If she couldn't, then the deal was off. If she couldn't, they would take Aaron from her and place him up for adoption. No, if ands or butts about it. Aaron was still young enough that there would be no trouble in finding a home for him. (Not to mentioning the Downings). And they would put my sisters in foster care until they aged out or until they found a home for girls until the age of eighteen. My mother would never see them again.
My father was a whole different matter entirely. He would seek help for his anger problems and see a separate shrink three days a week, and during this time not raise his hand on any of his children or approach Aaron or me in any way until he could do so without anger. If he so much as stepped out of line, and my mother let him or joined in. The deal was off, and they could say goodbye to their children. My father growled angrily about these rules. My mother, for the first time went toe to toe with my father. (Whatever she said I don't know, because I'll I have are the cliff notes of reports.)
My mother crumbled as she sobbed, realizing he meant business as she hugged her daughters close. She signed documents that would either help her case or help remove all the children from the home. To say Ma was happy about the agreement when it came to me, and my brother's welfare, would be a tiny white lie. (Trust me when I say my mother found a loophole.)
She and the rest of us felt more concerned than before; knowing her history and how well she'd keep her promises. Yet Ma had to put her best foot forward and trust this man or take the chance of losing me. She loved me more than life itself, and the same as she loved my brother and all her children. I am not saying she didn't pray that my mother or my father would mess up would be a lie. She didn't have to, for history always repeats itself. She knew my mother, or my father would break the deal, which was sad for them, but would be good for me and my brother. So once again, visitation was back on that following weekend.