_

How I Discovered My Power-At Three Years Old

As I sat there for what seemed like hours, I remembered that behind the cabinet I had put a piece of silly putty, wrapped in a red bandana.  I had been given it by a nice lady from Sunday school the one time I went. I had hidden it because everything I was ever given was taken from me seconds after the parents left.

I unwrapped and re-wrapped that little ball of silly putty in that red hanky and with eyes closed tight, I said to the silly putty; “Abrah-Kadabrah, I make you disappear!”  I opened the handkerchief excitedly to look for the silly putty and nothing had happened.  With more determination, I repeated the process and said the words “Abrah-Kadabrah I make you disappear!”  I opened the Hankie again with great anticipation, and still the silly putty was there.  I remember feeling very hot sitting there on that floor heater vent, and the act of being a Magician helped take my mind off of the lines that were being grilled into my behind and if I succeeded in making the silly putty disappear, maybe I could be next.

I repeated each step over, and over, and over again until I think I went into some kind of trance because suddenly, I found myself looking down at the wrapped hankie in my lap while an amazingly peaceful and knowing sensation came over me.

I began to gingerly open one corner of the hankie at a time ever so slowly with my eyes closed as if I were a Master Magician.  I took a deep breath and opened one eye.  With that one opened eye, I could not see that silly putty so I cautiously opened the other eye.  Now, I was starring with two eyes open wide right into a now EMPTY hankie.

In that moment of recognition (recog-nition) I felt a jolt of power surge through my three year old frame, suddenly; I wasn’t sad, uncomfortable, or alone.  In an uncanny way, I knew that now, everything would be okay.  I didn’t need to disappear like my silly putty did.

I remember sensations along with whispers and watchers, all conspiring for my greater good and the greater good of everyone that my flame came to ignite.  These glimpses and flashes all gave me balance, and a torch to light my way through life’s brambles and bushes as I encountered dark souls and Goblins.  Goblins were people who seemed nice when in front of others but dark when alone with me. 

At age three, for instance,  along with my siblings, Candace, Willy and Taffy we were all boarded out in a very cold and icy Windsor Ontario, Canada for what seemed like an eternity, and I am told it was more like six months. 

Being Boarded Out consisted of many, many alarming messages about life in “earth school.”  The key players were Mr. and Mrs. Hamm who were the proprietors of the home for children whose parents “had to work.”  The other characters I recall in this story are Lana and her little Sister Faylene.  They were a five and six year old pair of tag-team “broomstick jockeys” in training that would give any Wicked Witch a run for their money and they also caused me more unexpected adventures than a normal three year old should encounter. 

Thanks to Lana, Faylene and Mrs. Hamm, I developed my memory and a belief system that was beyond my years.  The events of that time in my life surely cracked open my psyche for a heightened sense of awareness that would not only last me this lifetime, but far beyond.

I am continuously drawn back to images of my scuffed white baby shoes with no socks and my bare legs as I sat unattended in a high chair to engage with an empty kitchen.  I was “stuck” there, so high up in that chair and locked in that I may as well have been a sky diver with no parachute.  You tend to “stay put” when things seem so dicey when you’re three.

Mrs. Hamm was one of the Goblins that taught me how to spot them.  She was a very large framed woman with a stern face and what seemed to me to be no lips.   She wore her hair in an up sweep that looked like several birds lived there, and she only smiled to reveal her lips when the parents came to pay a visit on Sunday’s.  She had big chubby fingers like sausages and legs like tree trunks with her hosiery rolled half way up that shook the floor when she walked. 

Mrs. Hamm wore black nurse’s shoes, and a big dress to frame her big assets.  She always smelled of something that I recalled when taken to spend the day at The King of Clubs Bar in Detroit City, otherwise known as the Corner Bar. Mrs. Hamm smelled of Booze and perfume.

For some reason, Mrs. Hamm thought that burned toast without butter or jam with a cup of hot black coffee was a good and balanced breakfast for a three year old.  I came to love it and still have it for breakfast on occasion to this day as an abstract and decadent treat.  I receive a comfort from this meal in ways that I can not explain.

I suppose that I was just so grateful to have something, anything to eat that it anchored in my subconscious as a kind of life force.  I don’t recall being given anything else to eat every day, other than the one and only feast that was prepared for the parents when they would visit every other Sunday.

On Sunday’s Mrs. Hamm made the most yummy and heavenly roast beef with carrots, onions, mashed potatoes and brown gravy, AND there was “KOOL-AID!”  Mrs. Hamm made this meal specifically for the parents and their children to enjoy on Sunday visitations as she wanted the moms and dads to see that their money was being well spent and that she was doting on their children.

Mr. Hamm, as I recall, always reminded me of a kind of walking “Mr. Potato Head,” with his glasses and round belly.  He had very long and skinny legs to support his big body which always made him seem like he would tip over a lot.  He didn’t say much, yet made regular appearances in the kitchen. 

I find it interesting, looking back now, that for someone who was fed so little, they liked to keep me in the kitchen as if I were a toaster or a potholder.  None the less, this was all part of the conspiracy for my greater good, so, as a three year old, I made the best of it.

One Sunday during parent visitations, Lana and Faylene saw my mommy present me with a pretty white dress with gorgeous red trim during one of her few visits.  I can only say that this beautiful dress made me feel as if my mommy loved me, and that it didn’t matter if I ever ate again as long as I had this dress and the touch of my mommy's hands as she buttoned up its back and tied the glorious white sashes in a pretty bow behind my back. 

Receiving this dress and being touched lovingly by my mommy was a soul banquet for me and was what I craved a whole lot more than toast and coffee.  I felt like a Princess for those few moments of my mother’s attention.

Finally, on that day, it was time for the parents to leave and all of the children to have their baths.  As I sadly said bye-bye to my mother, a fear gripped me like a steel trap, because I knew that when the last parent left and that front door closed for the night that the Goblins would come out.

Within seconds, Lana and Faylene had untied my sashes to tie my hands and pick at the red trim on my pretty dress until they unraveled it.  As the red trim made spiral shapes on the floor, they began tearing at my buttons and had ripped the back of my dress open.  They proceeded to rip off my puffy white sleeves and separate the full skirt that fit me perfectly from the bodice top with jagged threads spraying out of everywhere.  I couldn’t even cry.  Mrs. Hamm watched them do the whole disrobing of me for my bath while she tugged hard on the freshly made liquid in her large glass.

Finally Mrs. Hamm said; “That’s enough girls, go upstairs and get your baths,” she then put me in the kitchen in my underwear to sit me on the very hot heater vent in the floor as she had done so many other times to punish me. 

Soon after I made the silly putty disappear from my red hankie and was reunited with my inner strength, I was fetched for my bath.  I’m not sure if they were always saving the best person for the last bath, or what their logic was, but the same bathwater was used for every one of the eight or so children that lived there on any given Sunday. 

Whenever it came time for my bath, it was the signal for everyone that bath time was long over.  The water was always freezing cold, and had the same dark ring around the tub right at the water line from the soap used by the bodies that bathed before mine.

Somehow, after weeks of this, I was not bothered by the cold and dirty water this time.  Without my silly putty incident, I don’t know how I would have gotten through the following events of my stay in Windsor, Ontario with the Goblins. 

Later that night, as we all lay sleeping in the same room and beds; I noticed an odor that woke me up.  Faylene had gotten up in her sleep and mistook a box in the corner for the bathroom because I found her doing a number two that was definitely NOT a number one.

She was in a daze when I asked her what she was doing.   She woke up and ran to Mrs. Hamm’s bedroom to wake her.  And, it was not to get assistance for her accident.  It was to tell Mrs. Hamm that it was ME who had gone pooh in the box.  Before I knew what was happening, I was thrown into that box head first and made to sleep in it.  This was a traumatic experience for my nostrils and I had only hours prior, had a bath…well, sort of.

The next day after a severe scolding, I was begrudgingly given a fresh bath.  When things like this and the dress dismantling incident took place, I had to wonder what was so special about me that I would get this kind of added attention.  I was also told that if I mentioned any of these things to my mother that I would be killed, so I kept quiet.

The next day, I was in the backyard by myself. I was watching a Sparrow hop around on the ground, picking at rocks and twigs and generally enjoying the day.  I asked the Sparrow if I could go with it when it was finished there on the ground to fly away. 

In my mind, I heard the bird say in its Sparrow voice; “Sure-Hop on!”  I slowly walked up to the Sparrow and grabbed hold of its tail with my tiny fingers as it took flight.  Up went my arms with the bird as it flapped its wings to gain altitude yet I was still on the ground.  I held on for dear life for a few more seconds until I saw that I was holding this precious creature back and I promptly let go.

I waved good-bye to the Sparrow and thanked it for its willingness to take me with it from that backyard and from that place.  At least I had the secret silly putty event, and no one could take that from me. 

It was almost Sunday again, and I couldn’t wait to see my Mommy as even she was on her best behavior when she would visit and when I saw her smile at me, I drank it up.  I knew that I couldn’t tell her what had happened to my pretty white dress with the red trim and I had wanted to wear it just for her.  I could also not tell her that I was made to sleep in a box of Faylene’s “inner meanness” but just seeing my mom would give me hope to someday leave this place of Goblins. 

I did not have a concept of my Daddy at this point as I didn’t yet know that when I was six months old, I had been given away by my mommy to the Snodgrass family while my father was away on a business trip.  I am told that it was my time with The Snodgrass family that a different name was given me as if I were a new puppy and their home was the place I learned to prefer soured milk. 

I later learned that my father had brought me back to the family after searching for me high and low for nearly two years.  Three weeks later, my Daddy suddenly died of a massive heart attack and I never knew him in physical form. I didn’t really know my mommy either as I had spent so little time with her since my birth.  I am told that my father’s death was the reason we all ended up Boarded Out in Windsor Ontario, Canada

Finally, Sunday arrived.  I could smell the roast beef in the oven with the fragrance of slowly cooked onions, carrots, potatoes and garlic.  The aroma lifted me right off the floor and carried me along to the oven door. 

I was caught lingering there to inhale the heavenly and delicious meal as it was roasted ever so skillfully by Mrs. Hamm with her birds nest hair and stern face with no lips.  She said; “You listen to me little one…there’s just enough for everyone, and if you even think about asking for a second plate I will tear your arms and legs off and beat you with them the minute your mommy leaves!”  I stood there only able to see her mouth open and close with her finger in my face because I was so intoxicated by the smell coming from the oven beside me.  How I longed to just crawl in there and be with the source of that roasted carrot, onion, and beef banquet! 

It was my little Sister Taffy’s second birthday, and I knew my mommy would be there for that this week even though there were many weeks she didn’t actually come.  We were all gathered round the huge table with moms and dads and other children.  The roast, carrots, onions and mashed potatoes with brown gravy was portioned out and served. 

I noticed that there was just a little Roast Beef, carrots, and onions left in the roasting pan and I didn’t see anyone else that didn’t have a plateful of food.  I watched, as I sumptuously enjoyed every little bite of my small portion of food and chewed each mouthful with the precision and care of a surgeon delicately saving a life.

My taste buds were so overjoyed to have something other than black coffee and dry burned toast to delight in.  The textures, flavors, warmth, and safety to eat each bite in front of my mother were overwhelming my senses, and we had KOOL-AID!

I scraped my plate clean to enjoy every delicious morsel as I noticed that everyone else was already finished eating.  I looked at my mommy, I looked at everyone, I looked at my plate, and then I looked at Mrs. Hamm.  With a “nice lady” smile on her face that revealed her missing lips and hid what was really there, she looked back at me. 

I negotiated with myself that life may not be so bad with my arms and legs pulled off, and whatever else that Mrs. Hamm might do to me was worth having a full and happy tummy for the first time since I could remember.  With a sudden cargo ship of courage I said boldly; “That was SO good, may I please have some more?!” 

I saw Mrs. Hamm’s birds nest hair quiver as she attempted to remain poised and not let her Goblins out to run all over the table in front of my mommy.  She served me the remaining roast, carrots, onions, mashed potatoes and brown gravy and even topped off my Orange Kool-Aid! 

What a euphoric moment it was to enjoy my last meal on earth right then and there.  So much so, that it would be okay with me if she actually did kill me for asking for more food as she had promised to do.  It was JUST THAT DELCIOUS!  

After we ate, I joyfully and contentedly played birthday games with my little sister Taffy and felt like a normal child might feel under the watchful eye of a caring parent.  I was in so much bliss that I had forgotten to worry about what may come later when all the parents had gone.

As the door closed for the last parent to leave, I saw the “nice lady” smile fall from Mrs. Hamm’s face as it shattered on the floor.  Some of the pieces of her smile must have slid under the sofa and end table to cut into the legs of the furniture.  Other pieces slid down the heater vent and under the door. 

Everyone ran off to their usual hiding places during occasions like this.  I rarely saw them other times unless they were using me for their amusement.  In a flash, Mrs. Hamm grabbed me up by the back of the collar and hauled me into one of the back rooms in this huge house that had “reserve” rows of bunk beds lining both walls.  I had never been in that room before because it was locked with a key that Mrs. Hamm kept in her apron pocket.

After Mrs. Hamm locked the door behind us with the key from her apron, she stooped down low in her black nurses shoes and put her stern face with no lips into mine.  She squatted there glaring at me with red eyes and steam coming out of both of her ears.  For what seemed like an eternity, I waited breathless for her wrath.

As time tauntingly passed, she finally flew into action while I awaited the removal of my arms and legs and wondered if it would hurt to be hit by my own body parts.  The Goblin Hamm snatched me up by my hair with both her chubby sausage fingered hands and swung me round and round by my hair while repeatedly hitting my small body against the rows of bunk beds.

She hadn’t promised to pull my head off and it felt like that was going to happen because the only thing attached to my airborne body was my very skinny neck and my throbbing head.  I noticed that she was pounding me in the back interchangeably with her free hand as she switched them like she had done this before.  She rested the tired hand during the entire ordeal by using the other.

I saw colors of pain in that dark, musty room that I had not seen before and have not seen since.  Mrs. Hamm shrieked at me that she told me not to ask for a second helping and that she warned me of what she was going to do if I disobeyed her.  I was shocked and confused, but I think the event may have been harder on her.  I saw that her birds nest hair had fallen down completely around her shoulders like her hosiery fell down around her ankles. 

She screamed; “Now see what you have made me do!”  After she stopped and I had realized that I had survived, I cried quietly and inwardly that I would have been such a bad girl to ask for more food when I was hungry.  The euphoria I felt from the second helping when I was starving for much more than food, was worth ten beatings just like that one.

Winded, perspiring, and looking a mess, Mrs. Hamm unlocked the door while telling me that if I ever told anyone about her abuse that she would do worse.  I nodded in agreement with her that I would not tell anyone and this would be our secret. 

If not for these events, I am not certain I could have remembered my childhood. At three years old, I was much closer to the source energy that I had come from and the jolt of “survivor fluid” these events had provided have brought me many gifts.  One of which is to discover that my lifetime of chronic neck pain could easily be attributed to having been a human E-Ride. 

The greatest gift I have received from this and many other events along my way is the gift of forgiveness.  Thank you, Mrs. Hamm, for fulfilling our spiritual contract so well.  I only hope that your pain was transmuted by having known me, and I am so grateful to have found my magical powers sitting there on your scorching heater that lived in your cold kitchen floor.