Author: Gigi

Life changed quickly and I barely remember details.  There was much I chose to forget.  We suddenly moved to Detroit and Fran married the big man we called Red.

Not sure when or where the wedding took place but I recall the house we moved to.  It was a mansion in my eyes.  I quickly  memorized the address numbers,  14711 that were above the garage.  It seemed we had arrived.

I guess we all settled in our new home except me.  I was afraid of Red as he seemed to focus on me. Quickly it became apparent that my new living arrangements were overrated and I seemed to bring the monster out in Red.

My family embraced him as I rebelled.  Slowly I began to confide in my grandmother Nellie what really went on in what I called the house of horrors. The narrative was no longer a teenager sabotaging Fran’s new life.

Nellie was not to be dismissed as a small elderly woman.  She was fiery and took no prisoners.  Red was on her radar and I was on my way out!

Much happened in between the great escape, Nellie had to intercede as my disdain for Red turned into physical fights between us.  I was on the losing end more times than I want to remember, yet I was no longer afraid, I was determined.

Admittedly I did all I could as a young teenager to provoke Red.  He was cagey and could portray himself as the innocent stepparent in front of the family.  I ramped up my attacks, I wanted him to show them his true colors.

It culminated in a nasty episode at our cottage in Lexington one weekend when Fran went out grocery shopping.  I was being held up against the wall by his large hand on my throat.

I knew in that instant he would kill me.  As a small kid I only had one move, I had to kick him as hard as I could.  My foot aligned perfectly with his family jewels and I landed the blow.  It was over but not forgotten.

I knew I had to get away but at 14-15 years old, options are limited. I shared my Dads phone number with grandma Nellie because our home phone had a dial lock on it.   We could not use the phone to make outgoing calls!

 Nellie disliked my Dad, but she knew how dangerous Red was.  She contacted Dad, they made arrangements to hand me off in secrecy.  

I was gone, hidden away in a house in Birmingham until a custody agreement could be reached between Fran and Bob.

Red was livid from what I heard which made me happy.  I am certain he feared what I might say to others who chose to listen and believe me.

The custody battle was settled quickly, Bob would pay child support for my youngest brother and I could live with my Dad.

Bob, ever consistent never paid child support for my brother and warrants were constantly issued for his arrest.  

The divide with my Mother was instant.  We did not speak or see each other for many years.   Living with Bob turned Into a fiasco as he was ill equipped to handle a teenager.  

He was jailed frequently between child support warrants that were enforced after he would be picked up for being drunk, getting a speeding ticket, or just being Bob.  At the time I had no idea my Dad was a well known bookie.

We had moved into Muriel’s house around the corner from my Dads sister.  Thankfully she kept an eye on the house and  me.

Several months in my Dad disappeared with his girlfriend or possibly wife, June.   I learned a new term, benders and they were frequent.

My Aunt noticed that my Dads car had been gone, the house was lit by candlelight and decided to check in on me on her way home from work.  She knew her brother and was suspicious.

I opened the door and she quickly surveyed the house and knew the electricity and heat had been turned off.   She grilled me like what I would expect from police during an investigation.  

I pleaded ignorance, told her the heat had just gone out and I had no idea what was wrong with the lights.  

When asked why I did not seek help, she quickly answered her own question.  There was no way I was going back to 14711.  We moved what little I had and I moved 6 houses around the corner.

I was welcomed into their 800 square foot bungalow and moved into the attic space with my cousin Lori.  I was part of a family again and I was elated.

Just as I was adjusting Bob showed up on the tiny stoop. He finally found his way home and at some point noticed I was not there.  My Uncle Jim answered the door as I hid.  He politely explained to Bob that I now lived with them, no discussion, just a fact.

Bob weaved back and forth as he was drunk, his sister confirmed the decision and he left.  I did not see my Dad again until 1976 when I was 23 years old. 

6 houses away in a small subdivision in Southfield and we never crossed paths until he showed up at my home almost 10 years later.   I was so stunned I slammed the door in his face, he left and we did not meet again until I identified his body at the morgue two years later.

That is truly the one choice I made that I deeply regret.  He had been sober and I never gave him the chance to say he was sorry.  I denied him a step in the program he needed to complete his sober journey.  

Worse, I denied him the chance to meet his only grandchild.

Life had moved on for all of us.  My brother Bill had moved to Hawaii, Doug lived in Lexington with Fran who had finally left Red.

Many years later when I found out Red had died,  I needed details.  It wasn’t  enough that he no longer walked the earth, I needed to know he suffered.

He took my childhood and I cannot forgive him, but I could now forget him.

Next up:

Fran moves on, another marriage and three funerals and ultimately dementia.  In a way it may be a blessing in disguise

as she does not need to remember much of it and can live out her life in blissful ignorance.

Great Grandma Sadie, Grandma Muriel, my Dads sister Joan, and Lori

Our family lived a lot of places when we were little kids, settling in a bedroom community of Royal Oak, Michigan when I was around a year old.

My earliest recollections were from our duplex Fran rented on 11 mile road, nestled between two commercial buildings, adjacent to Sullivan Funeral Home.  

Fran had three children, my older brother Bill, myself and my younger brother Doug.  

To my Mothers credit, I didn’t realize we were poor, I was in my teens before I was struck how poor we had been.

I give kudos to Fran, somehow she never complained about her lot in life, nor did she ever explain.  

I also don’t remember my father being in the picture but I do recall him at the house one Christmas Eve. 

I never thought about his absence either.

Apparently I learned to compartmentalization at a young age.

It was special Christmas Eve because he had announced we could each open one present, that never happened before.  

Of course that present was the one he brought.

Fran was not amused and it showed.  I wasn’t sure if she was mad he was there, or that we would open his present, or both.

I’m certain I didn’t care.

Christmas eve had always been reserved for my grandmother, at Nellie’s house in Detroit.

All the family would gather and I vividly remember being thrilled to see the silver metal tinsel tree with the spinning colored lights and a train circling the presents under the tree.

This Christmas Eve was different.  Bob had shown up and it was weird.  No chaos of opening presents, just us waiting for a cue on what to do next.

I hesitated since I knew we did not have many presents to open on Christmas Day and weighed my options.  

I grabbed the package, shook it and dreamed it was a super special gift from my Dad.   My Dad!  Imagine that.

I ripped the paper off, opened the box and pulled out a slip!  I was maybe 6 years old wondering who the hell thought that was a good gift?  I cried.

My Dad, who was drunk immediately reached for me and hugged me, laughing hysterically.   

Outside of a picture of me with my Dad as a baby I don’t recall any displays of affection from him, or Fran.

In the rare picture of us together, I was a toddler on the hood of a car as my Dad balanced a beer, me and my baby bottle.  Such talent.

 Looking back at that Christmas Eve, I believe Bob was drunk while Christmas shopping.  I don’t think he had a clue what to get a little girl.  

Likely he shopped at the five and dime store, saw a shiny “dress” which may or may not have actually been a ladies camisole.

Was it possible Bob was too inebriated to discern the difference?  Fran knew…….I never saw it again, not like I cared.

It was our last Christmas with our Dad.   We did not know it then but it was.  Our lives were about to change dramatically.

Fran had a way of making our lives look perfectly normal even though the reality was we were one check away from disaster. 

We were always one step away from one of my brothers bringing chaos into our world.  I was always on alert for something as a kid, but somehow it seemed normal.

Nellie, my maternal grandmother was an integral part of our lives and I loved spending time with her.  She chained smoked and always had a house full of pop,snacks, and virtually no rules.

I did not connect the dots that I did not have a father, or money and Nellie had been our life support.  Our special time was spent walking to Franks nursery and buying another rose for her rose garden.

I don’t recall seeing my Dad again until his mother, Muriel passed and I was allowed to attend her funeral.  

My paternal grandmother, Muriel was stern, but elegant.  She was always dressed to the nines, gloves, hat and a beautiful suit, and of course the shoes!  

Muriel was a young widow and lost her eldest son when he was 18 years old.  The role she played until her dying day was an enabler to my Dad, and that affected all of us.

She was a nurse (as was my other grandma) and she would pick me up once a year on my birthday and take me shopping at Northwood shopping center by Beaumont Hospital.

I would hardly sleep the night before, Fran would grumble that Muriel only paid attention to me because  I was the first female grandchild.

I was special to my grandmother Muriel and I knew it.  I was her little princess.

Oddly she never mentioned my Father, and I never saw him on my visits.  I don’t recall asking about him.

I held the coveted title until my cousin Lori was born 10 years later and I was dethroned.  

Lori was born with a heart condition, a fragile little girl,  who lived 6 houses away from Muriel.    6 houses……..

I did not stand a chance, she was a little squeaking cherub who already had heart surgery, I was a tiny pre-teen with a raspy voice and Fran considered Muriel her enemy.

Despite the adversities, Fran plugged along working two jobs and raising three children alone.  We walked to school, came home alone before latchkey kids was a thing.

We had a babysitter occasionally.  She was my Moms best friends daughter, slightly older than my brother Bill, but not equipped to handle him.

It ended abruptly when my brother pulled a knife from the drawer and threatened to kill Bridgette.  I have no idea what set him off but Bridgette was gone in a flash. 

We never had a babysitter again, word must have spread fast about Billie, we were on our own at home while Fran worked.  We were expected to behave, period.

Mom never spoke of my Dad and at some point around the time we moved a new person came into our world.

My Mom was working days at the factory, nights on the weekends at Teds Drive Inn.  I vaguely recall his presence but I did notice Fran seemed happier.

I really didn’t care because I was too busy avoiding my brothers who relentlessly picked on me.  The rest of my energy went to doing my chores so I could go play.

For years he came around, not ever present but there.  I recall seeing him a few times before we moved to our new house.  

We moved to another home by the high school which was not bigger, but it was a single family unit.  

I recall seeing my grandmother Nellie more often as well after our move.  Fran had quit working on weekends at Ted’s.  

At some point her new friend was around more, appeared to be more involved with our lives.  

As a kid I could not process the change and it seemed like life was better, at least for Fran.

My oldest brother was spiraling and my youngest was just as wild.  I was left at home alone as my brothers barely waited for Fran to leave with Barb for the factory as they headed out for the day.

I was in charge of taking out the food Fran prepared, turning on the oven and making sure dinner was ready when she got home.  

My brothers would breeze in moments before Frans arrival, it was uncanny how they would game her, fearlessly while I cowered.  My brothers had a gift I simply did not possess.

The new friend was beginning to stop in when Fran was at work, I was frightened of him as I was of men in general.  

He was a big man, older than my Mother.  He was very nice to myself and my youngest brother in the early years.

He had an open distain for my oldest brother, not the Billy didn’t earn it!  One day I was in our backyard playing when I heard a commotion in front.  

As I approached the front yard I saw a huge police presence and my oldest brother in the middle of the street.  He was directing traffic and the police were coaxing him to the yard.

Billy looked wild eyed and out of touch to me, but honestly he was always a bit off so I was more confused than alarmed.

Apparently Billy had developed a glue sniffing habit that no one seem to notice.  As the police made entry they saw brown paper bags everywhere, seemingly used to sniff the glue.

I was being grilled by the police before my Mother arrived.  Why were we home alone?  Did we have a babysitter they could talk with?  Where were my parents?

What parents would that be?  Our Dad was a mystery, and don’t get me started on what happens to our babysitters.  We only had Fran and she always had to work.  After work it was dinner, bath and bed during the week.

My Mom was called at the factory, and I assume got a ride home as we did not have a car (Barb picked her up for work).

The new friend was called and the adults went to the local police station to do whatever with Billy who was higher than a kite.  Nellie came with her husband to pick up my youngest brother and me.

I don’t recall being alarmed or even upset, I knew if Billy was out of the house he couldn’t be mean which he frequently was.

I’m not sure what or how everything got decided but suddenly my brother was gone.  No explanation……just gone.  

Stay tuned for a little more background on my next post!

Another move, followed by a wedding, then a funeral-and eventually, the runaway.

Bob, my Dad

Follow me into the depths of dementia as I recount my Mothers journey with me as her reluctant wingman.

The introduction to Fran is a difficult one because my memories of my Mother were not particularity good.  

As a small child I remember being afraid of her, yet depending on her because she was the adult in the room.  Fran was never affectionate and quick to mete out punishment.  

Today, I am afraid of her, and for her,  as we navigate a new way of life with dementia.  To say our health care system is in chaos would be an understatement, to be complacent in the role of caregiver would be a mistake.

 Being respectful of those who care for us is mandatory, but also earned.  I have encountered many compassionate and caring individuals in the health care community, but an equal number who are not.

The Book of Fran was developed to help everyone step into a plan to help your loved one.   The caregiver must be assertive and control the narrative so there is a clear pathway for treatment.

Pack your patience, embrace the humor and keep your seatbelt on as unexpected turbulence is anticipated!

Find the humor in your journey, it’s the only way to come out the other side and reclaim your life.

Accept what you can’t change.  As we weave  through the history that is the backdrop of my life, my wish is to provide insight and hope.

Gigi circa 1957