Domestic Violet

They mostly all . . .

died . . .

. . . those who were my neighborhood

for a decade

they were on my

streets

in my clubs and

my company

frequently

we celebrated holidays

birthdays

Fridays thank god

happy and unhappy hours

shared by a community of

like-minded individuals and

we had a long run with Silk Panties

“shift shots”  said the beyond blonde bartender

as she passed them out to the girls

regularly

and later on there was a big deal over Fat Tire

right before I left town

left them all without forwarding address

to catch my sober breath

averting my own

death

and now

I get word that

most are no longer with

us

only a few remain

and some they say

took     their own lives away

while I have been many miles up the road

fighting to keep a hold

and growing old

without them

when

there was a time I could not imagine

not seeing them come down the street

through the door

and I

loved them

they were my family

R.I.P.

everybody . . .

Domestic Violet

Semper Vi~

Survivor . . . from the VORTEX

 

It used to be . . .

my town -

my neighborhood -

The North End

of a Mississippi River town -

certainly quite the notorious place

to be from

as the neighborhoods bordering

would agree

but only The North - Enders

know what I mean

the ones from Pinard and Jackson

and Washington Street

and Central Avenue - all 29 blocks long

back then

a wide swath cut through town

north end blended into southern river's edge

the flatlands in the heart of

endless hills

and 'the Flats' 

were to the south along the tracks

mixed with various industries

low incomes

and characters unsavory

as the legend goes

but we knew the boundary was

imaginary

in view of the view

from our own front porches -

long rows of long blocks with alleys

down the middle of every one

and deep stone curbs

to accomodate the flooding warm rains we walked in for hours

in our bare feet

blocks of two-stories      tall and lean

with occasional fences and smaller one-story bungalows in between

all detached garages

and steep narrow staircases and small porches graced the outsides

of many of our flatland homes

to be reckoned with in the bitter winter's cold and never-ending snow

in the valley that the was the flatland                  holding all the snow in

contained between jutting  (mountainous it seemed when we we small)

forest covered rolling foothill-sized ranges

perfect terrain for day and night life

in The North End of town

stealthing through the woods

to get where we're going

cutting through the humble quiet of God's Country

to get to school at the top of a hill

where we learned the path so well

we could run it in the night

the best hide 'n seek terrain in the world

and a real good place to take beer in a case and

for under-age cigarette smoking

but the only thing flat land is good for is farming

and a place to ride a bike

or a horse - at least until  the courage comes to

take off up a hill

like the same hill we flew down at top speed on a

piece of cardboard prior to the flying saucer invention

and with too many on a tobaggon

so many Januaries

we knew what to do with the Winter

building ice houses and igloos block by block in the backyard

with snowball fights breaking out while fashioning a snowman/woman

wearing someone's sacrificial scarf around its neck

and then as we got older

we went fishing on the ice and drove ICE CARS down the frozen river

where we traveled by boat when it thawed

with its bluffs and slopes lined with soft green green grass

and every green dense foliage

all Spring and Summer long

and the hills blaze with red in the Fall

where the mud is black when water mixes with the Earth

and earthy we were

in The North End

where too many street corner addresses

sold liquor by the drink and didn't care how young we were

rivaled only by opulent Catholic cathedrals and schools

acreage carved from every other corner of every other block

all through town

dotted with Monasteries on the edges and the outskirts

where the farmland began

spreading like a giant rolling quilt as far as the eye could see with lots of

fresh country cow air out there

dotted with Amish communities

still traveling with horse and buggy

but when in the flat land of The North End

it just smelled like

buses stopping starting

and leaded gas in the tanks of too many newly driving North End teenagers

mostly Chevrolet's in those days

stick-shift Impalas and such

and wood and coal stoves still warmed some homes

in the flatland North End

when the Beatles and the Beach Boys were young

and it was a magic moment 

as I tied up my skates on my front stoop one crisp December night

gliding down the narrow ice-covered sidewalk

one long city block

to the ice rink down the street

and stepped onto the ice to hear the first strains of

Barbara Ann

ah-Ba Ba Ba Ba Barbara Ann ah-Ba Ba Ba . . . . . .

 . . . take my hand oh Barbara Ann . . . . . . . . .

coming from the clubhouse speakers

where we went to warm our feet and

Oh Man it was so profound that

I knew then I would be thinking about it

some day

right now

and I met the best boyfriend that night

and I think about him too

as he lives in a twilight stupor not knowing his family sometimes

they told me

in a nursing home for many long years

from breaking his neck in a too-shallow dive

swinging and jumping from our favorite rope swing for fun over O'Leary's lake

cuz that's what some of the North End guys were up to then

living large and wild all over the place and sometimes they took me "with"

but I wasn't there the day he broke his neck

long gone and far away from home

for whatever reason

so I didn't know for years

until I had the intuition

to look for him in the hometown telephone book

no longer listed

and so I called his parents somewhere in the late 80's

to hear he would   "never be the same again  . . .  ever"

and it used to be my town -

ah yes those were the days and it used to be

my neighborhood  and he was the best boyfriend

and I'll never forget the look in his eys as he reached for my hand

to join in 'crack the whip' on the ice

North End style

and later on we skated backwards together for a while

rubbing snow in each other's 14 year-old faces

falling gladly into snow piled at the ice rink edges

and when the lights turned low

and the music wound down

we headed to our North End homes

with a smile

same smile we had for each other all through high school 

when each day he picked me up in the Old '48 with the suicide doors . . .

. . . ah-Ba Ba Ba Ba Barbara Ann

ah-Ba Ba Ba . . . . . . . . . . . . and I'm sure he would know me

now . . . 

if I ever get back there

I'm gonna find out . . .

Domestic Violet

Semper Vi ~

Survivor . . . from the VORTEX

 

It was this month . . .

on this day

it was 1978

when I came to this

state

and haven't lived anywhere else to date

but I have left this town

twice over the years and

returned again each time on this same day oh irony

drawn here for whatever reason

thrice in three decades

and in this month my mother was born

my father died

and some nieces and a sister have birthdays

and any day now another granddaughter will be born

under the Scorpio sign which does not ease my mind

given their propensity to put their own stinger into their own backs

and yes this month does not lack

for noteworthiness

not when even a marriage ended with a bang when it

had only just begun

in the same week of my father's passing in 1981

and later on I  

tried that marriage thing again oh the insanity

and this attempt began a slow and torturous ending

with a cancer diagnosis in

you guessed it - October '99

so as you can well imagine

I have a lot of feelings about this month

each year

but

Halloween is so much fun

as costume turns me on

and I think this year I'll do

Dottie and the Dawg

my version of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz!

My dress is the Rainbow and Red patent leather platforms

grace my feet with a tiny bow on the toe

tied all nice and neat

and I carry a basket with all the props and a fluffy white little Toto too dog

with ears all floppy

over the basket edge as I tell the story

with a New York Fran Drescher accent

pulling out the Tin-man oil can to oil the joints of my audience

and a miniature Lion rides shot-gun with a tiny Straw-man hat

to illustrate my traveling companions

as I pull out a Snowflake recalling how we traveled the Yellow brick road

. . . "and then it snowed and then we took a nap" . . .

out come the Poppies

. . . "and we went for a ride" . . . 

and the little stained glass Hot-air balloon with a broken basket is next

. . . "and then we crashed 

because of the Wicked Witch of the West who

just wants my shoes

and her Monkeys followed us everywhere

reigning terror from the sky OH MY" . . .

as I pull from the basket an ugly old witch riding her broom and a monkey

wearing a suit

all covered up

by a piece of the curtain from the Wizard's control room

and then after all the laughter (this is so funny and fun!)

I pack it all up

for the next address

unless

it's a year where I'd rather get you dressed

so what do you want to be

this Halloween and is it November yet???

Domestic Violet

Semper Vi ~

Survivor . . . from the VORTEX

 

 

The neighbors . . .

were an interesting mix

in Mid-west 1966 -

more of Ireland and Germany 

than other ethnicities

in my home town

and pretty much Catholic all around

with a smattering of Luthern

Methodist and

Protestant

and some mysterious kind of Synagogue -

with a handful of Asian

a few American Indian and a couple of Eastern too and

one African American family

in the whole river city

but

on my block

at the corner and next door and across the street

and every other house in between

were folks whose many-syllabled last names ended with

the Deutschland sounds of

-hammer and -bacher and -hauer

and many other variations of -er -or -orf -odt -ardt -indt -gel -gle

etc - etc

among the Gaelic Mc's  and Mac's and O's  o-plenty

and I was none of the above

and almost daily the young ruffians -

from large families of sometimes 5 or 6

to a dozen or more children -

a majority who were

young males

some who made a point to harass Old " Finkie "

across the street

known as Mr. Finkenauer for most of his 80 some years

until he became old and senile and quite reactive to

young thugs who shed their wrinkled white

parochial uniform shirts after school

and ran the neighborhood looking for

somewhere to practice all that

catechism

and Old Finkie was a prime target for some bullying and shenanigans -

" Get away or I''m gonna  . . . " he could be heard shouting almost daily

shaking his fist at them

from his dilapidated front porch

as they taunted and jeered and got a rise out of him

and his house when passing by

had the smell of the absence of a woman

for too many years and there was a rumor he had a wife once

and I think I saw someone who might've been his son come

once or twice in several years

but

seldom was anyone seen coming or going

with the exception of

ancient Abie the Gypsy and his Momma occasionally

who were holed up overnight

in Finkie's garage out behind his house on the alley

when they came to visit -

once or twice a year they ventured into town on foot

walking all the way in from miles down through a river cut

and one day Old Finkie

well he got crazy and locked them in and

they were some friends of his -

Momma Gypsy in a fur coat in a hundred year-old falling down

former buggy shelter leaning kind of sideways

on a hot August day

as a bit of pandemonium broke out

when the neighborhood ruffians heard Gypsy Momma pounding from inside

and pleading to be let out with Abie bellowing like a cow

as Finkie sat on his decaying porch swing

acting like he didn't hear a thing

and his worst tormentor came by at the usual time and

said -

" Who ya got in there Finkie ? "  and  " ...ain't ya gonna let 'em out ? "

as Finkie grumbled menacingly in reply and looked away

and it was ON

for the next several hours at Mr. Finkenauer's -

back when Cops were not called for much of anything

and people took care of business themselves -

soon his chief antagonist was joined by the others and

some of their brothers and even some parents joined in

to see what was the matter and tried to convince Old Finkie

to open the door

which he finally did after somebody's father and two older brothers

threatened to break the door in

and Momma was still in the full length fur

as sweat poured off Old Abie's face

and all hell broke loose all over the

place

and it wasn't at

my house

that day . . .

(Part One - The Neighbors - New Category: The Neighborhood)

Domestic Violet

Semper Vi ~

Survivor . . . from the VORTEX

 

I don't miss it !

I do not

I do not miss

rain-covered streets

slick as snot

nor do I long for

fish flies ( fishflys ? )

Fish - FLIES       ????????

covering a two-mile wide bridge

every street and

every single thing

lit by any kind of light bulb

every year for a very long

week

but I do miss

the street

on foot

on a hot Summer night

in the neighborhood

and the Mighty River

flowing beneath

bridges

everywhere

and I don't miss

mass humidity

as I'm drying up nicely -

west of there -

and I promise you

I do NOT miss the

real of

Really Winter -

there's just enough here

but

it could rain

just a little more

and I really don't miss

baseball size hail

raining down on a

topless M.G.Midget

boyfriend         small daughter

and me

I covered her with my body

and then him over me

and it hailed on a flat stretch

in the middle of nowhere for

an hour

and beat us mercilessly

scary

but

we protected her

and forever I'll miss the nice man

that he was

the M. G. and

a 4 year old POPPY !!!

It's so hard to think of

missing

the Tornado

tendency

but forever I'll miss

my Grampa

who let me stand on

the porch

and watch

twisters

with him

when he wasn't one to

let anyone

near

too much

so I was

privileged and he

knew it

like he knew it was me

who turned the key

powering his table saw

to life zzzzzzzzzZZZZZZiiiiiiiinnnnNNNNNGGGGGGG !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and he was upstairs in the

kitchen

and he chased me 'round and 'round

the house

inside and out

most of the afternoon

and I finally tired and faced the music

and let him

catch me to

get it over with

and cut my own switch

from a small tree out back !!

I don't ever miss

however

the snakes in the lush green

grass or the skunks in the culvert

" Grampa Grampa - get the hoe !!! "

and he would and then he'd

lop the snake's head off

and chase the skunks out with a

firecracker -

but I miss my Grampa so

and my sweet Grama and the

      OaK

gianT Trees and the

cows

and horses and a        windmill

out the window

next to the barn

atop the hill

I mostly missed it right away

when we moved to the

city

but I really will never miss

my Catholic neighbors

with their

messages

of brimstone

fire and Hell -

which can't be somewhere

far away after death

when I've seen it

there and here

 

but I do miss

their vast Cathedrals

where I was sure as a child

God would appear

if I waited in

the back row by myself

awhile

when

the door was always open

back then

and I very much miss

my sisters and brother

when we were little

and Mom and

Dad

and cousins

next door

Aunts and Uncles and others

around there

then

when new Easter Bonnets

were in order every year

although I'm

here

40 some years later and

           remember

clearly

I do not miss

John Barleycorn's

ravages and

its attendant savages

here

there

or anywhere for that matter

but I miss the first cold beers

on hot Summer nights

on my feet

on the street

in my neighborhood

when the lush green grass was covered with dew

in the early Spring morning

and everything was

new . . .

Domestic Violet

 

Semper Vi ~

Survivor . . . from the VORTEX

 

 

 

 

 

The Dreaded December

 

Hi, it's me Vi, or better known in some circles as Vi Vi. Competitive idiot - material types think it is spelled Vie, which is to strive for superiority - filled with contention, conflict, competition. Those who are "full of it" in the first place think we all are like them, or think like that, or are motivated  out of extreme insecurity to carelessly, recklessly, indiscriminately grasp and claw for more, better, best, and even more than that !

It's just plain Vi - busy besting herself and wondering what all the striving and stampeding is about. What is there to win? I have never understood THE WIN !!! If someone is winner, then someone is loser - why can't everyone win?  Oh, I forgot - most think of life as a GAME.

The Violet is compact in some formations

leaves clustered low enough to the ground

to protect the delicate flower

which can survive inclement weather

lack of nutrient and nurturing

and bounce back after a trampling by a boot heel.

Still surviving after all these years of emotional natural disaster, this Violet sees no reason to kick in the teeth of a real or imagined adversary; neither did Jesus, or better known to me as Shua - the nick name his boyhood friend gave him. Shua did, however, get real pissed and knocked down the temple walls when the money changers were found to be corrupt. (Go, SHUA!) It is allegedly Shua's birthday this month, and everyone will lose their minds very shortly, so I want to know, as I do every year at this time, is it January YET ?????  And to make matters even less than desirable, I have a birthday, too. Soon, it will be time for holiday madness and the annual  BURPHY MIRSHMAS presents. I would be so less offended by receiving nothing, than by the long list of alibi's I have been given for my unfortunate end-of-the year moment of birth. Burphy Mirshmas is the combination Christmas/Birthday gift - that I inevitably get from at least someone, if not many someone's. It is such a not special birthday already with the hats and the horns and merry being made by all, and I mean ALL, as far as the eye and cable T fucking V can see. A truly depressing situation, if you are me. I have had, moreover, some rare, precious, and unbelievable birthdays, all in all. Many have been noteworthy, some even newsworthy. Where's a camera when you need one?

One of my all-time favorites was 1983. A baby boy - first son - had come from me to his life the previous January, so he was almost a year old on my 30th birthday. I am also 5 months pregnant with another baby, so the party was at home that year. Nothing new, the party was at home most days, anyway. That was the way  He (baby daddy) wants it.

Hh was more than happy to not do anything extraordinary for my birthday - another reason he is a then and not a now.

Apparently, he just wasn't that IN TO ME !!!

Anyway, as the evening pressed on with the usual friends, the usual Budweiser, the usual music streaming from the ever-present usual musical instruments and their attendant musicians, I stepped away as a recently coupled couple left my house; stepped into baby boy's quiet room to give him attention and possibly find a serene moment in the middle of what is New Year's Eve for most folks and another strange birthday for me. Shortly after settling in with a hungry baby, I hear a scraping sound I cannot locate - it is not in the room I finally determined, after looking in and around and under everything, with a baby firmly latched at my breast. The sound is coming from outside. I see nothing out the front window but the bushes in the night, so I stand on the edge of the bed to look out a high side window. Now I can hear this sound is coming from directly bellow the window, against the exterior of the house. On tip-toe I see the top of the head of the guy who just left, and he has HER, ( his soon-to-be next ex-girlfriend ) in a head lock on the sidewalk - punching her face with his other man hand. I return the baby to his crib and fly out the front door, with a trail of partiers straggling behind me, wanting to know what was wrong. I shouted for him to "UNHAND HER."!!!!!!!!!!!

Across the alley from the typical duplex, a 3.2 Club entertained a hundred young people in need of supervision apparently, given the local Gendarmes parked neatly in the lot outside. They were just sitting on GO, waiting for something, anything, any kind of disturbance, as I proceeded to rail on both of them, him for hitting her - her for being in that position, instructing them to take it home, beat her up at your house, and if you want to let him - DO IT THERE, Please !!!!!!!!

Cops love when they have something to do, especially on NEW YEAR'S EVE. So, across the alley they came - four of them, two on foot and two in a squad car, wanting to know what all the commotion was all about. I had been oblivious to their presence, so was surprised by the sudden appearance. By now, the contents of the party had emptied from my house to the alley, and gawkers, too drunk to know better, had crossed the parking lot from the club and milled about the alley, not liking being asked to leave by ( the baby's father ), and his friends, or by the POLICE, who are not hearing me when I try to explain the difficulty. There are now at least 30 people in the alley, when a moment ago there were 3. Me, and the Man HANDLER, and the woman he was handling roughly.

I do not want to have to divulge the true nature of the situation to the Police - I just want it to stop! All is quickly escalating to pandemonium, fights breaking out among the festive from both sides of the alley, bar flies into conflict with the house flies, my two sisters telling me opposite theories - one said I should have stayed out of it - the other defending me, now THEY are fighting with each other and finally with me - one trying to knock me down - the other holding me up. No law enforcement official was "GETTING IT," as I was getting lost in the shuffle of madness, with at least six or seven altercations in the alley becoming increasingly violent by the second. I finally point at the sidewalk next to my bedroom window, at the persons responsible for the insanity, point so an officer could stop telling me that I would be going to jail soon, if I did not behave??!! HOLY SHUA, I have simply intervened on behalf of the victimized, as I would do if I encountered an attempted murder anywhere- ( that is what it IS ) ! How do we just walk on by - NOT GET INVOLVED??????????

When I pointed, to the scene of the crime ( that's what IT IS ) the couple were gone, had neatly disappeared into the crowd, gotten into their car and left. By now I have had a brain fracture trying to wrap my mind around what developed, my drunk sisters are beating each other, none of us have any earrings left on, my husband and his buddies are duking it out with strange guys who appeared seemingly out of nowhere, all are drunk and stoned.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NO ONE IS REALLY HEARING ME - it's a TWILIGHT ZONE BIRTHDAY - OH, WELL - I'VE HAD THEM BEFORE ..... About this time I look down, and in my hand is a Policeman's Tie - OH GOOOOD - OH GOD, Lord GAWD, Oh NO!

Oh, SHIT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Tie in my fist from around his neck, FOR SHUA'S SaKE !?!??!!     I think I've died and gone to hell.  I know THEY are not taking me ANYWHERE - I'm BREASTFEEDING !!!!!! And PREGNANT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They are not taking ME to JAIL, no way. So, I waited for the right moment, when the groups of party animals fighting took the nice OFFICER'S attention, and went in the front door carrying The Tie, back to the baby's room where all this started, pulled a dresser in front of the door, put 'THE TIE' on my mirror ( where it lived for the next 5 years ), picked up the baby who latched immediately back to my breast, opened the window and said through the screen to anyone who cared, " If you want me, you'll have to come and get me !!!

NO ONE CAME, thank SHUA, and I rocked the baby, without a care in the world, because surely if there was a GAWD in heaven, I would not be removed from the baby, and taken pregnant to the POKEY, the HOOSKAU, the SLAMMER on my BURPHY MIRSHMAS, of all days.

And have a Happy New Year !

Any more questions?

Domestic Violet

Semper Vi ~

Vi, Vi

Survivor . . . from the VORTEX