Cinfulcinnamon's Blog

~~When I Hate You~~

Posted on: May 26, 2010

     Time for one of my more introspective blogs.  I like to talk about my experiences from the past and present in a way that might give you a glimpse into the history and making of me, and the way I view things.  I have always maintained that our pasts make us the person that we are today.  In the same way that our past will also predetermined the way that we deal with others that we come in contact with.  Time, once again to get into the Cinful Time Machine and take you back to my childhood in order for you to understand the foundation of today’s blog subject.

     As you may have read…if following me for any length of time….I did most of my formidable years on a farm.  The values that I have today were instilled in myself and my brother and two sisters back in those days.  Work hard and get ahead.  Love animals and children because they are defenseless and need our help.  Respect your elders because you can learn so much from them.  And always give until it hurts; whether that is in the form of money, your time, or your emotions.  Because even if unappreciated it will help you sleep better at night. 

     No one else in our family; and by this I mean my Mother or Fathers immediate family lived in the country.  They were all city folks.  So when my Mom’s brothers or sisters wanted to treat their family to a “day in the country” our place was where everyone came.  We had a huge lake on the property that had at one time been a pay lake.  So it was fully stocked and fun to swim in.  We had all the farm animals that any city kid would want to see or touch.  Kind of the original petting zoo.  And of course I had my ponies and horses which I begrudgingly let my cousins ride.  I hated that part.  I didn’t like to share my animals with people who had NO idea how to treat or talk to them.  Back then, you could eat the corn from the fields so we had big corn roasts and fish fries.  Mom and Dad would get their guitars out and the aunts and uncles that also played would join in and we would all sing.  Well, my brother, two sisters and I would sing.  The city cousins wouldn’t have been caught dead doing something like that.  But a good time was had by all.  The city folks would go back to Cincinnati, or some stayed with us if they were the cousins from New York or Kentucky.  And my folks were thrilled when we would have these cookouts and visits.  And this went on for years.  Then one night when I was about 12 I heard my Mom and Dad talking downstairs.  And they both sounded so sad and yet angry.  They were discussing the impending visit of one of my Mom’s brothers and his brood for the weekend.  And it was actually my Mom that said the words that started my head to spin, and my heart to harden.  For all the years that everyone had been coming to the farm for a good time, for all the expense that my folks would put out so that everyone had enough to eat and drink, and all the entertainment that we provided to everyone else, one thing had been missing.  A return invitation.  The Jones’ never got asked to come to dinner or to any kind of party at any of the relatives that lived in Cincy.  We were always left out when it came to graduations or showers or birthdays or just a weekend get together.  I’d never thought about it before myself.  We did go to Kentucky for Christmas Day.  And the family that lived in New York were just too far away to go visit.  We couldn’t leave the farm unattended for that kind of extended stay.  But Cincinnati was only 50 miles away.  We could get there.  If we’d been invited.  But as my Mom started to cry my Dad did what he was famous for.  He said, “Ah Betty don’t worry about it.  They don’t have anything that is near as fun for our kids to do there as what we have out here for their kids.”  As a 12-year-old,  I bought that argument.  And I forgave my aunts and uncles for not inviting us to their houses.  And for a while I never thought about it again.

     Then, when I was sixteen, we moved to Cincinnati.  My folks had made some money on the last farm that we lived on and Mom decided that she wanted us to live closer to her family and for her kids to go to a good public school in the suburbs.  We lived in a very nice one actually.  Called Finneytown.  Right on the border, literally our backyard fence was the border of ,a very wealthy suburb called Wyoming.  We had a very nice house with a large in ground swimming pool.  Again the city cousins would come over.  This time for cookouts and pool parties.  They didn’t have a pool or the large backyard that we did.  But, we were still the Jones’.  And still didn’t get invited anywhere.  The only thing that had changed was location.  We were still the “hick” relatives.  Still didn’t have the most stylish of clothes.  My Mom still shopped at the Goodwill and other thrift stores.  And so, we were never quite good enough for the other relatives that spent most of their money trying to keep up appearances.  Now at sixteen I DID notice.  And I began to resent them.  And any other person that would take advantage of others.  I saw what it did to my Mom and Dad.  They gave freely and got nothing in return.  And we were all taught the same hard lessons from watching what happened to our folks.  Trouble was……none of us learned anything….LOL  Everyone of us has stories of the same thing happening to us with others.  Heck, Dad never learned either.  To the day he died it was more important to him to make sure that everyone was having a good time than what it was going to cost him.  I’ve sat in bars with him where people would “poormouth” to get a drink out of him.  And he just about all the time gave in.  He was never taken as a fool, but I’m sure some thought he was a soft touch.  And I smile sometimes when I think of things in my life that have also shown me to be a soft touch, to believe the sob story, to let myself get taken advantage of.  Just because I wanted to believe.  There are ways to handle being taken advantage of.  Or lied about.  Or treated unfairly.  And that is what I do now.  Oh yeah, I still get duped.  I still get lied to and cheated.  But I let you know about it now. 

     If I hate you:

1)  I will always be polite to you….that is just my way. I value courtesy over any other virtue.   But I won’t talk to you.  If I can ignore you, I will.  Those that know me know that if I cut up and tease with someone, it’s because I like them.  If I ignore you, then you are dirt to me.

2)  If I get the chance to point out something that you are doing in an “educational” way……I will.  And if it’s in a public way, even better.

3)  If you hurt someone I care about……you will pay.  And that’s all I’ll say on that.

4)  And if you cheat me, or someone who I love……I will get payment. In some form or another.  Even if it’s just self-satisfaction in making your life miserable.

5)  And if you lie about me……the truth will aways come out so I just leave this one alone.

     Most things I let Mama Karma take care of.  And lately, she’s been doing a damn good job of it.  It’s a pleasure to see her work.  And that is enough for me.  I will NEVER, ever stop giving people the benefit of the doubt.  Because I do believe that people basically will do the right thing if given the chance and the choice.  But if you don’t take that chance, or make the right choice………well………If I Hate You?…………….jus sayin.

peace,

Cinnamon

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Goofy Me

I am: an Air Force vet, Mom, sister, friend, Lifestyler, and all-around smartass with a heart of gold. I have lived all over the far East and learned many things about people and cooking, art and true value. I like to share my experience with the rest of the world. I will be the most loyal friend or most annoying enemy you've ever known. Honest to a fault. My life has not always been easy, but it has never ever been boring.

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