Rewiring the System


Tough Day


I have made a lot of mistakes in my years on this planet. I come from a first generation American dysfunctional family and married into a Mayflower dysfunctional family. The most painful part is that no matter how hard I tried to break the chain, I did not succeed. Today was a tough day. I can feel my heart breaking. The reality is that all my worries are pointless: If there’s a solution, I have no need to worry. If no solution exists, what’s the point in worrying? Yet because this is family, I feel laden?

My Unhappy story starts back several generations, all of whom are dead.  I am a human being and flawed. I never recognized that I was not using my time with my family wisely. I do not have all the juicy stories. I only have the stories that happened when I was present.

There is a thread from my Grandfather about the Bolsheviks and the Mensheviks.  All sides of my family were liberal and believed that the revolution by the Mugziks, the peasants, to upturn their slave status, was a good thing. The Mensheviks did not win

My parents fled the Bolsheviks and the Russian Revolution. The Revolutionaries came to my Grandfathers house and put a gun to his head. “You have three hours to get as far away from here or I am going to line you up and shoot you all. We want your house and land.” My mother was the oldest of eleven children. My Grandmother, my mother’s mother had the courage to take a few valuables and started walking through Russia, from whatever small town between St Petersburg and Kiev to the closest river. I guess it took a few years until the three surviving children arrived at Ellis Island. My Fathers family came via Vienna because of their mercantile history in the Kosher Foods Business and arrived in New York City in the same year.

The two were so glad to be alive. Their gratitude to America was deep and strong. My father joined the armed forces and they gave him a test and he got a perfect score. You can imagine that was magic for both my father and the country that both saved his life and gave him the possibility for a long and grand future. He became all clearance Intelligence with an office deep underground in a concrete fortress. He is not here to tell me exactly what exact part of what state but he did take me to his office. I have clear visual memory along the concrete halls. His desk was a government issue metal hunk painted a dark green with a rounded corner surface.

He flew the undercover government line just like a Hawk. He was a tough smart man. He was asked to work with the Navaho Nation to set up the Code Whispers.

I remember biting into my first big ripe red tomato on that reservation. The Army guy had a big beige cowboy hat, the tall kind with a widish turned brim bend down and handed it to me, then stood up and smiled. No words passed from him to me. Just his reaching toward me with a lovely Beefsteak. Were did that Jersey tomato come from? Were we in front of a gas station food store in the vast Arizona desert? I turned around in a 360 degree circle taking in the vast reddish dusty earth. My parents green panel truck stood out in the distance. We got back into the truck and drove off down the roadless expanse to the Chiefs small brick house complete with a pointed black tack tar roof. It was built right on the earth. I remember my looking down in surprise since this was the first house I had been in that did not have flooring.

My parents got along beautifully with the Chief and his wife.  My mother gave me the ring which the Chief had given to my father. I have worn it when I was traveling on to Navaho territory 10 years ago when I was crossing the country.  My father worked with the Chief in choosing the members of the tribe who would serve with the Marines and other military forces. Tonight I saw the movie about the service of the Navaho Nation in 1943 Saipan. The part my father played does not appear since he was completely invisible!

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