WordSisters

Category: Incest

  • Listening to the Radio in the Farmhouse

    Listening to the Radio in the Farmhouse

    DSC07148I picture my mother in our farm kitchen listening to the AM radio. She would be washing dishes, picking up the kitchen. The eight older kids having already been dropped off at school, a baby napping, another two playing under her feet, one in her tummy. USDA came out with their first official forecast of planting intentions on Thursday – and it shocked the market. More corn acres then we’ve seen planted for three years, fewest soybean acres planted for two. Wisconsin farmers are looking out the window watching it rain or snow. Corn Stocks are expected to be up 1 Percent while the cattle market is holding steady.

    And now, for our Big Morning show, with author Elizabeth di Grazia.

    Think of this: when a child is raped, 46 percent of the time the perpetrator is a family member. Those statistics suggest many stories. House of Fire: A Story of Love, Courage, and Transformation is a remarkable tale of incest (including two pregnancies), loss, and eventual renewal that author Elizabeth di Grazia hopes will open a dialogue to change those statistics – and innocent lives – for the better.

    Would my mother have listened to the woman being interviewed since she had personal knowledge of what incest does to a family? Or, would she have shut the radio off?

    She’s been dead for almost 25 years.

    I think of her as I am being interviewed on the air with Ted Ehlen, the host of “Big Mornings” on The Big AM 1380 out of Janesville, Wisconsin. Janesville is a city in southern Wisconsin with a population of 63,575. Much bigger than the town I grew up in. Ellsworth, Wisconsin even now only has 3,284 residents.

    Would my mother have bought my book? She was a big reader. She’d buy books at farm auctions. One time a set of encyclopedias, another time boxes of Readers Digest Condensed books, and yet another time rows upon rows of Harlequin Romances.

    familyOnce, I overheard a person asking my mother if she had started writing that book that she wanted to.

    This surprised me. I didn’t know that my mother had a desire to write a book. Certainly, she could have. She had a B.S. from the University of Minnesota and a Masters in social work from Catholic University (Washington D.C.).

    I came to realize that I didn’t know my mother. I didn’t know what she thought or what was important to her. I didn’t know her past. I didn’t know what it was like for her to have an audience with Pope Pious XII or for her to serve in the U.S. Navy and help with the repatriation of World War II German refugees.

    I don’t want this same fate for my children. I want them to know me. And, they do. Long before my book came out they knew my story.

    They are a part of House of Fire as well as my partner, Jody.

    Now if I could just get them to quit telling about that time that we were at the Twins game and I sneezed so loud that all three of them hurried away so people wouldn’t think that they were with me.

    Layout 1Or, remind me of the time that they misunderstood me about growing up on a farm and Crystel would tell people that Mama Bef was born in a barn.

    They know that not much embarrasses me. That I’ll cry at their track and cross country meets. They know that I tell the truth and when I say that I’ll come to their school and sit next to them in their classroom if they have a tardy – that I’ll actually do it – even though they are thirteen years old. They know that if they ask me a question, that I’ll answer and I’ll give them too much information.

    Most importantly, they know that I love them and would do anything to keep them safe.

    March 21, 2016   WRJN AM1400 Interview with Glenn Klein out of Racine, Wis

    March 29, 2016  The Big AM 1380 Interview with Ted Ehlen out of Janesville, Wis

    April 10th from 12:40 to 1:20 I’ll be reading at SUBTEXT Books, 6 West Fifth Street, St. Paul for their local author day author series. I’d love to see you.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Where Were Josh Duggar’s Parents?

    Where Were Josh Duggar’s Parents?

    The responsibility for what occurred in the Duggar household belongs first and foremost to the parents.

    Where were you? I want to ask them. Where were you before your son molested his sisters? I can imagine that they were cooking dinner, reading a book, or having a glass of wine.

    They were busy.

    I can assure you that they weren’t present for their children. I can assure you that they didn’t teach their son and daughters about boundaries, privacy, and the right to say no. I can assure you that the children didn’t feel that they would be loved and protected by their parents if they reported their brother.

    I told my mother when I was nine-years old that my brother touched me. This occurred while my eight other siblings and parents were at Sunday mass celebrating first communion for our seven-year old brother. I was staying home to take care of the baby. She was number ten in our family. Number eleven and twelve weren’t born yet.

    Forest of Yellow Leaves[1]It started as a game, my twelve-year-old brother and I running around the house until he wrestled me to the ground and he put his hand under my shorts. “I’m going to tell, Mom, if you don’t stop I told him.” He did stop after a minute. Even so, I was afraid. I had three other older brothers and I knew that soon it would be all of them, all of the time.

    There had been warning signs. The game in the haymow when I was eight. You could do whatever you wanted to the one that was caught. It soon occurred to me that I was the only one getting caught.

    Until that time, my brothers were my best friends. Their behavior irrevocably changed my relationship with them. Gone was the feeling of safety in their presence. Instead came suspicion and fear when they wanted to be alone with me.

    I warmed the infant’s bottle in the pan of hot water just as my mother showed me. Squirted the formula on my forearm to make sure it wasn’t too hot. I crawled up into the dry sink that we used for a crib, sat cross-legged, and cradled the baby in my arms. My body shook. I ran it in my mind over and over how I would tell my mother that my brother touched me. Up to that point that was the hardest thing I had ever done. Taking care of babies was easy.

    I waited until my mother was alone. She was spreading frosting on the cake. I sidled up to her. “Mom, Patrick touched me,” I said. “While you were at church.” She turned to me. “I told you not to mess with Patrick while I was gone. You were supposed to take care of the house. You can’t have the frosting bowl.” Her words stung. I swore that I’d never tell her again. No matter how bad it got.

    I didn’t tell her again until I was nineteen. I was afraid for my three sisters still at home.

    My brothers weren’t taught boundaries, privacy, and don’t touch your sisters. We didn’t have locks on doors. My mother’s words when I was nine told me that me and my sisters were responsible for how our brothers acted.

    Using the same word that Josh Duggar used, what my parents did was inexcusable. Their parenting was inexcusable. They stole my best friends from me. The incest didn’t start as an act of violence. It was an act of not being taught that touching others was wrong.

    Before my mother died of cancer she told me that she was sorry for the incest. She said that she was overwhelmed. With ten children, two more babies still to come, and an alcoholic husband, who wouldn’t be? Still, I didn’t tell her that she was forgiven.

    Parents of Josh Duggar, where were you, what lessons have you taught your children, and most importantly will they forgive you?