I was born in the spring of 1940, the firstborn. Eventually that event was followed by the births of my brother and much later my sister. My parents were not particularly well heeled, which was not uncommon in those days. My maternal grandfather until the day he died called my father a no-account drifter. It may very well have been true. I never knew my paternal grandparents as they died when my father was eighteen. To say they died penniless would be to overstate their wealth.
By all accounts, my father inherited a considerable debt which to my knowledge remains outstanding to this day. He has fastidiously avoided fulfilling any financial oblgations, for the large part, his entire life. It is quite likely therefore that I will at some time in the near future inherit his considerable debt as he is now in his early nineties and living quite happily on the dole. I have neither seen nor spoken to him in over forty years, but I do keep track of his doings from a distance.
Needless to say, I grew up on the wrong side of town. That is to say the wrong side of whatever town we called home in those days. Every time he piled up sufficient debt in one place he would pick up and move us to another town where he could 'get a fresh start' This habit was much easier to endulge before the dawn of the computer age.
My mother died shortly after the birth of my sister when I was ten. My father promptly married one of the floozies he had been shagging for a while and we moved again. We needed a fresh start I guess. I heard some years later that he was on the run from the woman's 'manager' She lasted for only a couple years. It seems she got a better offer. By then I was thirteen and 'outa there' I went to live with my maternal grandfather who took me in as a 'charity case' Actually my grandmother had just passed and he needed someone to cook and clean. (He told me that he didn't expect much of me, being my father's son, but he figured I could cook up at least as good a gruel as my grandmother had been wont to do.) I never really got the hang of cleaning, but I took quite well to the cooking part.
My grandfather was a miser and seldom left his house except to go to the bank and cash in his coupons. This gave me quite a lot of time to get to know him and I grew to love him dearly. When I was seventeen he died. I remember well that day. I was in my senior year at high school and I got the call while in english class that he had taken ill. I was promtly taken home by the school nurse who remained with me until he passed a couple hours later. I expected that I would be homeless, but as it turned out he left everything to me. Now, he wasn't a wealthy man by any accounting. He did however, possess certain assets about which I knew nothing. Along with his house there was a small trust set up for the purpose of paying taxes, insurance and necessary maintenance. (He had a very explicit list of what he considered necessary and what he considered frivolous extravagance)
In addition to the house and grounds, the trust and a token amount of cash ("to get him by until he gets the hang of things" according to his will) there were a few stocks and bonds. He owned a gold mine in Alaska (which he had never seen) and a ranch in Kansas (which he had visited once) Not too bad for a east coast city boy who always cried poor when asked about his financial health.
News of my sudden status as a 'rich kid" moved quickly and I found that I had more friends than I ever knew about. I managed to keep my wits about me however and resisted the temptation to go on a spending spree and engage in wanton debauchery. My newfound friends, once they realized that I had no intention of sharing any of my wealth with them, slowly drifted away. "He's just like the old man, a miser to the core." was a frequent refrain about town. I guess living five formative years under the tutelage of a miserly old goat sort of rubbed off and it was a good thing that his reputation lived on for a while.
Of course it didn't hurt all that much that I didn't really have access to any money until I graduated from college, also a provision of the old man's will. It is a good thing that his attorney was likely the only honest lawyer in the country at the time. When he died I think he took the concept of integrity and honesty with him as it concerns the practice of the law. I certainly have never found an honest lawyer since.
Shortly after graduation from college I married my first wife, the mother of my four children. That marriage lasted until shortly after the birth of my youngest daughter. She decided that she wasn't really cut out for the role of wife and mother after all. She left without so much as a good-bye to the children and hasn't been back since. The divorce was finalized a year later and I found myself officially in the role of a single parent. By then I had started my own business, having sold the ranch and mine for start-up capital. My workday was at least twelve hours, six days a week. I religiously took sundays off to play golf with the boys and hold private dances with the girls. We would set up the main dining room as a ball room and hold our own little balls. As the girls got older they would invite friends and these affairs became quite elaborate. The boys simply hated them and refused to participate until they recieved their first large dose of hormones. Then they realised that bringing their girlfriends to the sunday ball at pops was a good way to open doors to greater things.
About four years after my first wife made her departure from our lives I married Edna (no it's not her real name, but thats ok, right?) Ours was not a marriage born out of love but rather convenience. It seems I needed someone to cook and clean. (the eternal circle of life makes a full turn) Edna, a wonderful lady in her own right, just wanted companionship. I had made it quite clear while dating that I would not countenance any talk of our having children of our own. I felt that four was quite enough and she had no desire to have kids.
Over the years love developed between us and we never considered any alternatives to our arrangement. She made being a mom to my children her avocation. They in turn loved her and considered her their 'real' mother. The incubator, as they refered to her would send them cards on their birthdays and at Christmas, but made no attempt to otherwise contact them. That is until quite recently, since Edna's death. My children, all married with children of their own, seem to have little time for their incubator and have to a one told her as much from what I understand.
I think one thing that bothers them the most is the fact that over the years she never acknowledged that she was a grandmother or a mother-in-law for that matter. Not one birthday card or Christmas card for the children. Now all of a sudden she wants to be all those things in her children's lives. They aren't having any of it. I say "Good show!"
I consider it good fortune that she hasn't come calling at my door. She would certainly not find a welcome here. I haven't seen her in well over thirty years and I would like to keep it that way. I do, however keep track of her doings from a distance.
On a side note I might mention that both my siblings have long been deceased, my brother died in Viet Nam and my sister died from a drug overdose at the age of seventeen. I mention this only because I did mention their existance earlier. Neither of them would ever spend time at my place and I could never find the time to go to where ever they happend to be to visit them, so I didn't really know them well except as young children. I wish sometimes that I could have brought them with me when I moved in with my grandfather. My father wouldn't have it though, and my grandfather didn't want 'the brats' around all the time. He (grandfather) thought that if he saved one of his grandchildren it would be enough I guess. We never discussed at length why he wouldn't fight my father for custody. It wasn't a thing done in those day I guess.
Over all I have been quite content with my life up to this point. Edna became the light of my life, especially after the children went out on their own. My business grew and thrived and I now have something besides poverty to offer my progeny. When my father passes I will fight tooth and nail not to have to meet his obligations. The way I consider it, any fool that would allow him to go into debt deserves to suffer the consequences. This is not the thirties when times were hard and nearly everyone encounterd financial difficulties. I find it nearly impossible to accept that a man can live ninety odd years and never or rarely pay a bill.
Now here I am, in my late sixties, wondering what I am to do with the rest of my life. In what way will I complete the story? Only tme will tell.
