ClareceC

Looking for a home to rent has been more stressful than looking for a home to buy was.

I believe the perfect house doesn’t exist.

I have another habit of adopting moms, everywhere that I have worked.

Not that I don’t already have an excellent mother, she’s pretty great. I just like to learn from other ladies and eventually those relationships turn into nurturing ones.

These relationships have made me the woman I am today. I’ve learned rules of wearing panty hose, office etiquette and other things that I can’t mention here.

Now that I am older and working with younger women instead of older ones, I wonder if I am supposed to give these young ladies a little of the knowledge that I have gained. I have tried with a couple, but they seem so offended.

Are young people allergic to advice?

As it turns out…my mother was completely right and I was somehow implanted with this perfection bug that stifles all of my creativity.

So much so, that one little presentation about social media that is REALLY for beginners and should have taken me about an hour, has taken me all day.

And some stories that I probably could have done in an hour a piece have taken me over a month.

In my defense, things like plants, doors and purchase orders have taken up a lot of my time. Oh and there is also the moving states thing. I can not for the life of me kick myself in the buttocks and get this party over.

I know that I will, and I know that there will be a ton of people with advice and so on.But, I promise I just really wanted to type this out.

Back to the powerpoint!

We share our experiences with hopes that you might make wiser choices. But, If you took every piece of advise and lived cautiously, it wouldn’t be enough to make life perfect.

We can’t live life for others, we can’t be hurt by the things that people say but we can’t ignore it either.

I sometimes become obsessed with trying to avoid mistakes, I listen to everyone’s advise and then I become stagnant for a while. But, that’s just not how it is supposed to work.

I’ve also watched people make mistakes get called out on it and respond to everyone that loves them enough to say something as “haters”

textsfromhillary:

Today was a crazy day but I said I would share more of Grandma’s story so I will share the parts that I remember tonight. I dug out my notes but of course they are in the car.

I left off last night discussing how Grandma’s baby brother died before they could get into the orphanage. You can see that here

http://clarecec.tumblr.com/post/18235124225/grandma

Grandma would tell you that there is speculation around her brother’s death, that since there were some parties in their grandmother’s house, it is possible that her brother might have been stepped on or was not taken care of properly because sometimes when babies are sick and lose a lot of fluids they can die of dehydration. His death certificate says dehydration.

When the four girls were finally taken into the orphanage, they began their journey into adoptive homes.

Irene, the youngest and she was the first to be adopted to a loving couple.

Grandma was adopted to a family too, but when they got a divorce they returned her to the orphanage, where she had two sisters still there waiting to be adopted. 

When Grandma was adopted the second time, she was adopted by the Williams family. They were a set of brothers that were married but wanted to adopted siblings into their separate homes. 

Grandma was adopted by Clarence and Gladys Williams and Aunt Cora was adopted by Masey and Mosey Williams.

Aunt Cora, ran away to Chicago when she was 13. She rode a bus with almost no money and when she was the last passenger on the bus, the bus driver looked back at her and asked her if she missed her destination.

She shared with him that she had no where to go and he allowed her to stay with him until she was able to find work and support herself.

She lied about her age and got a job.* 

Aunt Ewila was the oldest child and was the last one to be adopted, she was adopted by a man that owned a fish market in Oklahoma City, the Morrisions.

As God would have it, the sisters were able to keep track of each other. Aunt Irene, because she stayed with the initial family she was adopted to and Aunt Cora because she stayed in Chicago but kept in touch with her sisters.

Aunt Ewila is credited with keeping track of the sisters, but Grandma wasn’t hard for her find.

When Ewila’s adopted father started to cheat on his wife, of all the people he could be with he ended up having an affair with Cora’s adopted mother.

It’s all mixed up but somehow they were able to end up being in the same family anyway and even through the moving around Ewila was able to keep up with her sisters.

While they were growing up none of her mother’s family ever came to see about the sisters. In fact, Aunt Ewila said that once she saw her mother’s sister at a grocery store in Tulsa and as her aunt walked by her, she commented to her friend that Ewila was her sister’s child but she never stopped to speak.

Ewila tracked their father down in California and wrote him a letter, when he responded Grandma and Aunt Irene found out that they were celebrating their birthdays wrong. He was in the service and had established himself in California. Though he hadn’t actually killed anyone in Oklahoma, he did kill a young man In California. He killed the brother of the woman he was staying with and both he and she testified that the killing was in self-defense.

Grandma never actually saw him again after he disappeared until the day they buried him.

Grandma endured verbal and sometimes physical abuse through her childhood. I don’t have specifics but it effected the way she interacted with others all of her life.

That’s probably enough for tonight. Until next time. :*

About this time last year, I thought it might be a good idea to start talking to my grandma about her mother.

The story had always been interesting to me but the more I talked to her, the more I became intrigued with several parts of her story.

My great-grandmother’s body was found by two young boys after she was thrown from a moving car.

The drivers of that car was never found and though there is speculation that she may have been killed over land disputes, we have no proof.

My grandmother, her three sisters and baby brother stayed with their father for a little while. The untimely death of his young wife and the thought of having to raise these young kids alone drove him to drinking. Unfortunately, drinking is never just drinking. During one of his bar visits he got in a fight with a man, leaving the man so injured he feared he had killed him. Fearing the possibility of going to jail he ran to California and never returned.

My grandmother and her siblings were now orphans….

One would think that they would then be able to stay with their grandmother but that was not the case. One of their young Aunts stayed with them for some time and then took the children to their grandmother’s house.

My great-great grandmother is rumored to have something to do with the My great grandmother’s death because of the dispute over land. She forbade the children from speaking about their mother, made them sleep on the floor and marched them down to the orphanage everyday.

Before they were finally accepted into the oprhanage, Grandmother’s baby brother died of dehydration and diarrhea. The circumstances around that another mystery.

There is more but I am tired, if you read this and want the additional parts let me know and I will continue.

Until Next time….

I’ve had some crappy jobs and I’ve had some great ones.

I’ve had some that started out amazing but somehow turned into a big ball of frustration.

Maybe it is true that the people in my generation expect to be rewarded with a cookie every time they do something nice. Or maybe we would rather go to work, know what is expected of us, get it done and move on.

Once I get to the point where I am absolutely done, I can’t see anything else. I can’t pretend like I’m staying when I’m not.

I feel it in my heart, like it’s squeezing it and something is burning telling me to go. Maybe there is a way to deal with it better, but I spent over an hour at the gym and still walked out feeling this intense urge to live on the streets instead of reporting back 

Maybe I need counseling…..

I know this is over sharing but that should tell you how truly done I am.