Читать книгу I Know How A Butterfly Feels - Ann Palmer - Страница 5

Chapter 1

Arrival in Montana

Is life’s journey meant to be fantastic travel observing and absorbing the beauty of God’s creation or an adventure of traveling within ourselves? And, why can’t it be both? From our youth, can one’s fairy tale romance become reality? Can one attain a flight of independence and freedom?

Life’s adventures start at the beginning but this one is starting now and working backwards. Stay with me as I share my adventure in getting here to this beautiful early summer evening in the hills of Montana, where daylight remains until well after 9 P.M. As I sit here reminiscing, I hear the creek rushing by with waters from the melting snow of the nearby mountains. The Aspen trees are now proudly opening their light green leaves – the foreground for the darker green pine trees scattered over the rolling hills. Yellow and purple flowers dot the green fields and along the gravel road that leads to the spot in the road called “Gold Creek” (hard to call it a “village” with only an old tiny post office and a few houses) – the nearby creek is Gold Creek. Everywhere I look, I see a potential painting. Since I arrived, the days have been half filled with rain, even hail. With all the rain, it seems hard to believe that the state has had a drought for several years. By evening the clouds are sparse and range in colors from lavender and white to mauve and pink, layer after layer of rolling hills of many shades of greens. As the sun sinks the nippy cold begins to creep into my 37’ home. As I sit at my computer, I look out upon green grass with large rusty farm rakes, wooden fences, two horses and a barn, a field of gold-green, a layer of beautiful trees, a rolling hillside, then distant layer of trees and more rolling hills. I expected some cool days and nights but never expected to see SNOW in mid June! On my drive to the nearby village of Deer Lodge, the surrounding mountains are covered with snow, more than when I drove my motor home by a few weeks ago. That is the Montana setting where I find myself as I begin sharing my adventure.

Martha, a long time friend, invited me to spend the summer with my motor home parked in her wide-open yard of seventy acres. Ever since they built their house in Montana, she has invited me to visit in the summer. Since her husband died a couple of years ago, I thought my staying for the summer would not only give me the kind of atmosphere I needed for writing but also give her a female companion.

Recently I talked to my niece, who is staying on an Indian Reservation further North, where she hopes to find a teaching job on the reservation. She told me that part of Montana is even prettier. For a number of years she studied Native American culture and spirituality, especially after discovering she had Native American ancestry on three sides. I can’t imagine “roughing” it as she is doing, living in a tent, but then, she raised three boys so tent camping is familiar to her. She described Flathead Lake and the area as exceptionally beautiful. Montana lives up to the reputation of being very beautiful.

Since I am inviting you to share my adventures, I should tell you a bit about whom I am in as few words as possible when one has lived as long as I have. To begin with, I was born in Texas into a modest typical dysfunctional family. We didn’t know we were dysfunctional as that word and other psychology words were not around in those days. If we had known, almost every family would have qualified. No offense to those who may be of the Baptist denomination but my first memories of religious/spiritual defiance was against the Baptist church. With millions of churches around the world, as a very young child, I recall observing the Baptist church on one hill and on another of the same height was the Methodist. How could any church assume they were the ONLY one chosen by God or any denomination, for that matter? There are plenty of those “the only one” churches, temples, mosques, etc. around the world! What horrible wars and chaos have been created because of that attitude! At around five, I didn’t like the fact they separated the boys and girls in Sunday school and when I felt pressured to be baptized or go to hell, I really did not like the preacher asking God to “forgive her of her sins” as his big hand ducked me under the water. How many sins could an eight-year-old girl have? That was the foundation for my lifetime of spiritual searching.

My dad often talked about how he would like to buy a travel trailer and take our family of five all over the USA. He could never afford it but the “bug” was planted in my gypsy soul. Unintentionally, my parents moved just about every three years; as an adult, without realizing it I continued the same pattern. It never dawned on me that I DID move every three years or less until someone asked why I moved so often. I didn’t have an answer – just circumstances. Most of my friends never move. For me, what boredom it would be to stay in one place all your life! I want to know what’s around the corner or over the next hill. In youth, I dreamed of being a reporter in the midst of all sorts of excitement, jumping on a tramp steamer and the more impossible one would be a glamorous fashion model. Life has always been an exciting adventure regardless of the turmoil, failures, heartaches and setbacks. As I grew into teen years, even though I was always one of the more attractive girls in school, I had little self-confidence. Even though I was generally popular, I seemed to always be saved for “the next election” until school days ended and I had not attained any of the popularity contests, which I interpreted as failures. It stuffed my self-confidence down even further.

My great tragedy was teen-age pregnancy and forced marriage and motherhood while friends continued in college. Motherhood was not one of my teenage dreams and I was not ready to be wife and mother. I felt cheated out of my most exciting years. When I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm for my formal wedding, with a church full of guests and the bridal party at the alter, I looked at my groom and thought I DON’T LOVE HIM! How I wished he could have been my teen-age Prince Charming I fell in love with only a few years back! I had no choice – I was trapped! How fitting it was that my ex-roommate sang, “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” There was a part of me, although subconscious, that must have hated my husband-to-be. My gypsy soul was unrecognized at that time. It should have been the happiest day of my life, as it is the time when every young woman can feel like a princess. For me, it was going through an unavoidable necessary solution. Simple as it was, the wedding dress and all that went with it had to be a joy. As I look at those weddings photos today, it amazes me that that tiny waistline and flat stomach could have housed a two-month fetus.

Like most girls in that era, I knew absolutely nothing about sex. I had never heard of “oral” sex and if I had, it would be unthinkable! I had dated a lot – I had “necked” – that meant kissing and hugging and controlling a guy’s hands to stay off private property! During my pregnancy, I avoided sex with every excuse in the book. My husband was a good guy but I was not in love with him and felt no chemistry for him. During our marriage, I never looked at his nude body. Once, while he stood at the sink in the bathroom I saw him nude from behind. It sounds ridiculous today, but true. I would do anything to avoid sex – stay up after he went to bed watching TV or reading, use any excuse, etc. He also knew nothing about love making. As a typical uninformed male, sex was just the on and off kind to satisfy his needs. I didn’t know the word “orgasm” nor did I ever experience one. “Love making” does not come naturally. With sex as a vital part of most people’s lives, it seems more compulsory education is needed. Perhaps if there was more education and understanding of this very human need, there would be less rape and violence connected with the act of sex. (Fortunately, my second husband was an excellent teacher.)

In later years, when discussing my first husband who was a Gemini, the twin sign, I would say, “he never got around to having ONE personality, much less two!” That always brought a laugh. We worked together selling children’s wear in the wholesale market. We traveled together while my aunt kept our daughter. I welcomed the travel as I had hardly been out of the state of Texas. That was more or less my first introduction to the excitement of travel.

Manufacturers that we represented would bring us to Pennsylvania and New York City – what excitement THAT was for me! I also welcomed the times when he traveled alone and I could stay home. I had finagled a deal to buy a house in a good neighborhood of Dallas for practically nothing down. I loved my home and raising my daughter whom I adored. She had her own room plus we had a den in our three-bedroom home that was my first attempt at decorating. The modern brick house was darling. It was a far cry from the dinky old apartment we had when she was born. For my age, in some ways, we seemed to have it all. Both our parents adored our daughter. His parents were children’s wear representatives. That was how we got into the same business. His mother selected clothes for her. We didn’t agree on clothing at all. I loved frilly feminine clothes. She liked tailored clothes and was generous with her gifts to our daughter.

By the time my daughter was about two, a friend who was a model, insisted on teaching me the correct steps for fashion modeling. She insisted I try out for a very big yearly event at Neiman-Marcus in Dallas. Much to my surprise, I won that opportunity and that was the beginning of my fashion modeling career. Before long I was doing local television commercials, catalogue and photography fashion work in general. I felt good about myself coming from a financially lower middle class family, as a model I was meeting the cream of society. I seemed to fit better in society than in my own family background. I was a bit of an inborn snob without any background qualifications.

Before divorce time came, I had so much apprehension over the prospects. In my mind, a divorced woman was a fallen woman. I talked to my minister who was minister over one of the largest churches in Dallas. I also discussed it with my doctor. Much to my surprise both encouraged me to get a divorce. Since I had seen the results of weekend fathers spoiling the child and the mother having to be the bad parent who disciplines the child, I felt I should pursue a modeling career in New York or Los Angeles. I preferred to send her back to her father for quality time in the summers and holidays. With a three-year-old daughter, California seemed a more healthy choice for raising a female child. Our house was sold. My daughter would stay with my aunt until I got settled and off I went to pursue a new life in California. Of course, I was terrified to drive that far alone. My brother made me change a tire so I would know how in case I got stuck on the road.

Dread is always worse than the doing. Once on the road fears disappear. I always wonder why I allowed myself to accept those fears, especially from other’s advice and concerns. I play guessing games as to how long it will take me to reach a certain place, how far it is to the mountain or some visual spot. Each hundred miles, I think now it is less than one hundred miles, next ten miles, less than ninety and so on. I set a potential stopping place for the night, then try to push on further to the next town. That game has lasted all my life.

I knew only one person in Los Angeles. She was a model who hired me in Dallas for a show when she was there. We became friends. I invited her to stay in my home so in return, she invited me to visit her any time. My husband and I had a business trip to Chicago. I wanted to go from there to L.A. and he wanted to go skiing in Colorado so we agreed to take separate return trips. What an exciting visit that was! She invited me to visit her again any time. It was less than a year when I did return. Soon after my arrival, she helped me get a modeling agency. Once I felt I was making a living, I flew back to Texas to have furniture shipped and brought my daughter back on a long train ride. I thought we would both enjoy the scenery from the train but she slept most of the trip.

My career took me on many different kinds of adventures. Today, younger people’s exciting adventures include mountain or rock climbing, bungee jumping or the wild and crazy TV shows where they eat bugs, etc. To them, my adventures may seem a bit mild. Yet, I heard Edgar Mitchell, the astronaut, say that the inner journey was more exciting than his trip to the moon. My adventures are more about traveling and exploring the beauty of nature as well as the inner beauty and its fascinating journey. If you want to know more about the Hollywood romances, you’ll want to read my book Letters to the Dead: Things I Wish I’d Said that reveals some of my life in the film and TV industries.

Staying with the present time -- I wish there was a better name for this time in life other than “senior citizen” – personally, I do not like identifying with the word “senior!” What happened to the “good years?” Just as every passage in life has its particular uniqueness, I dare say many of us share this time with aching joints and muscles, excess weight – especially around the mid section, memory that often fails and for many – loneliness or ill health. Glasses become more a part of our wearing apparel. No more high heels for most of us women. Men seem to have more problems with fading hearing than women as well as balding heads. Indigestion – sneaky gas expulsions – memory lapses – are just a few of the negatives.

On the other hand, it is a glorious time of life to be able to look back at all the silly things we each get so upset and all stressed over in our various youthful stages; just like watching some of the popular television shows and thinking how silly and mundane they are. I don’t mean funny; maybe just plain dumb is a better description. Networks, producers and sponsors fail to acknowledge the huge population of senior citizens with major buying powers. No one wants to get old so they think by ignoring us, they won’t have to identify with their own aging potential. At least we made it here to these senior years! It is amazing the trivial things that we get upset and waste so much good energy over. Once we reach this time in life, we are so grateful for each day we have left! TIME becomes very precious to us. We aren’t afraid to express our opinions be they good or bad. An example is that if I see a cute waiter or waitress, or if they give really good service, I don’t hesitate to tell them. If they give really bad service, I don’t hesitate to tell the manager. It is a time when we can talk to a stranger about unimportant things and it just doesn’t matter. Unfortunately, those people who have given into negativity can be down right cranky and rude. For me, often it is more fun to make outlandish comments. When we realize we are on the downhill side of life, there is no longer the push for a career. Unfortunately many are forced out of opportunities for continuing careers. It is a time when we can divorce ourselves from the hustle and bustle of city life; traffic, bogged down freeways, rude people, smog, anxiety, stress, et al. In failed marriages, in order to get that long needed or desired divorce, one must make a huge decision. Many just don’t have the courage to make a decision to make a major change in their lives. Life does seem easier when there is a husband and wife to support each other in a major life change. I am not a “couple” – I don’t even have family that cares where I am or what I am doing. I don’t mind being alone as I am never really lonely. Since “time” becomes so precious, I had generally rather read a good enlightening book than have superficial chit chat; yet human contact seems a necessity for most of us. One thing I do miss about the Los Angeles area is the excitement of soul-searching conversations with others that broaden one’s own perceptions.

Somewhere along the way, I saved the following: “A wise old lady of 80 tells her friends, as they reach 60: You have spent 60 years in preparations for life; you will now begin to live. At 60 you have learned what is worthwhile. You have conquered the worst forms of foolishness; you have reached a balance period of life, knowing good from evil, what is precious, what is worthless. Danger is past, the mind is peaceful, evil is forgiven, the affections are strong, envy is weak. It IS the happy age!”