{"id":8316,"date":"2020-08-07T16:56:57","date_gmt":"2020-08-07T16:56:57","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/?p=8316"},"modified":"2020-08-07T16:56:57","modified_gmt":"2020-08-07T16:56:57","slug":"dont-say-a-word","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/dont-say-a-word\/","title":{"rendered":"Don’t Say a Word"},"content":{"rendered":"

Dear Readers, I am standing for the courage and the tenacity of this nineteen-year-old woman. In 1968 there is no term for post-traumatic stress. Her support system helping to ferry her through these rocky straits are the letter from Alice and the two books. I honor the time it has taken for her to reach this point in her story. I am holding space so that she feels safe in saying out loud, what happens next.<\/span><\/h4>\n

She is in a space between what was and what will be.<\/span><\/h4>\n

Thank you for being here.<\/span><\/h4>\n

<\/h4>\n

70<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

My way is so simple to feel, so easy to apply,<\/span>
\nThat only a few will feel it or apply it.<\/span>
\nIf it were not the lasting way, the natural way to try,<\/span>
\nIf it were a passing way, everyone would try it.<\/span>
\nBut however few shall go my way<\/span>
\nOr feel concerned with me,<\/span>
\nSome there are and those are they<\/span>
\nWho witness what they see:<\/span>
\nSanity is a haircloth sheath<\/span>
\nWith a jewel underneath<\/span><\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

from The Way of Life<\/u><\/em><\/span>
\naccording to Lao Tzu<\/span>
\ntranslated by Witter Brynner<\/span><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

I look forward to hearing Funny Man climb the steep stairs up to the porch. It’s Tuesday and he is crossing the wood-slatted floor approaching the kitchen door. <\/span>I laugh as his Birkenstocks enter first; a quick two-step in through the door. Tada! <\/span>His fuzzy hair is wrapped in a red bandana, signature khaki beige cargo shorts, brightly patterned camper shirt. He grabs a mug, fills it with cold coffee off the stove, sits down at the table. I enjoy seeing his face. He smiles broadly and asks how I am. He is the only one who does that. I share my story, mainly I feel ready to go back to work. He agrees to get me up the hill to meet the shopkeeper. Then he dives in telling me what the rest of the morning holds. We travel across town to Cleveland Hopkins Airport for the weekly pick-up of the two suitcases at the baggage claim. The radio is on. The windows are down. We sing \u2018Hey Jude\u2019 followed by ‘Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay.’\u00a0 With the suitcases stowed in the trunk, he drives back across town and heads past the street where the apartment is taking me to the shop. He pulls up and parks at the curb saying he’ll wait here at Irv’s Deli<\/span><\/em><\/a>.<\/span><\/h4>\n

I pass under the striped awning and enter the tidy storefront passing the white wicker flower box filled with a tumbling assortment of bright yellow annuals.\u00a0 The owner, Lovely Lady, welcomes me in and immediately begins telling me how happy she is to have me starting my new job. I am moving in the direction of my star. I can feel it.<\/p>\n

A single sentence from my early morning homework reminds me:<\/span><\/h4>\n

\u201cI always think about what I am going to do,
\nand what I want to happen.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

Lovely Lady describes what my duties will be, primarily hiring me to manage the shop. She is excited to have her time freed up allowing her to visit estate sales seeking inventory. While she is showing me her favorite collection of antique gold pocket watches her new boyfriend, dressed in leather pants, a sweeping cape and a wide-brimmed hat comes through the door causing the brass Indian bells to chime and echo. He swoops in like a Hollywood movie star, scoops her up, and dramatically leans her back toward the wide plank wood floor giving her a Leading Man kiss. Her right leg points toward the ornate pressed tin ceiling. She comes up for air laughing and flushed a deep pink from the downward tilt. Leading Man is a terrific character. He is friendly and makes me feel part of the family. Turns out he too works for Medicine Man. I am treated well. They have been given the word. <\/span><\/h4>\n

<\/h4>\n

On Wednesday as I walk through the village to the laundromat on assignment, the old-timers sitting on their porches smoking cigars, raise a hand in a short snappy salute. Some wink. The grandmother in her garden smiles at me with a toothless grin as she cuts back her flowers. I enjoy the walk as well as the time with Handsome Man and Beautiful Girl. There is sadness and loss in him yet that is covered over by a need to stand his ground. I say to myself, \u2018I grok his pain.\u2019 Beautiful Girl and Handsome Man now have increased status. His father was assassinated. Beyond the politics of the neighborhood, there appears to be something meaningful and deep between them. I notice her style. She is all his. She is attentive and kind. She says, \u2018Baby this\u2019, and \u2018Baby that.\u2019 He is not just any guy from the neighborhood. His father held a high-ranking position. Now his dad is dead, killed by a sniper on the 16th<\/sup> hole at an east suburban golf course. With this turn comes an assumed transfer of position. Privilege. Rank. Neighborhood royalty.<\/span><\/h4>\n

I watch what is going on. My growing up years held a chorus of mom repeating her mantra: \u2018This too shall pass.\u2019 I honestly believe that I am going to find my way. I am going to be my artist self. I am going to follow my star. Many times, with my eyes open or closed, I see myself walking at The Farm. I hear Alice say, \u201cand wherever you walk, I\u2019ll be with you\u2026my strength is vast, and From Beyond.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

Back in my room, I read from the doctor\u2019s book:<\/span><\/h4>\n

What Is the Secret of \u201cRapid-Healers\u201d?<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

\u2026one easily recognizable characteristic which all
\nthe \u201crapid-healers\u201d had in common.
\nThey were optimistic, cheerful \u201cpositive thinkers\u201d who not only expected to \u201cget well\u201d in a hurry but invariably had some
\ncompelling reason or need to get well quick.
\nThey had \u201csomething to look forward to\u201d and not only
\n\u201csomething to live for\u201d but \u201csomething to get well for.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

\u2026they epitomized those characteristics and attitudes
\nwhich I have previously described as the \u201cSuccess Mechanism.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

Later I read:<\/span><\/h4>\n

Dr. John Schindler, in his famous book, How to Live 365 Days a Year<\/u> \u2026 pointed out what he believed to be
\nthe six basic needs that every human being has:<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
    \n
  1. \n

    The Need for Love<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n<\/li>\n
  2. \n

    The Need for Security<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n<\/li>\n
  3. \n

    The Need for Creative Expression<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n<\/li>\n
  4. \n

    The Need for Recognition<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n<\/li>\n
  5. \n

    The Need for New Experiences<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n<\/li>\n
  6. \n

    The Need for Self-Esteem<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

    <\/h4>\n

    Friday afternoon I am ready when Medicine Man comes by, leather briefcase in hand, to collect his money and me. We go out for dinner at an impressive neighborhood restaurant, a known gathering spot for the most influential members of the Underworld. Medicine Man is in his element. We are led to the best available table. He pulls the chair out for me, orders me a glass of expensive wine, leans forward to whisper that he will be back in a few minutes. He wanders among the tables shaking hands, stopping to talk with members of the old guard; well-dressed cigar-smoking elderly men nod my way as Medicine Man indicates where he is seated. I am becoming recognizable. It is understood that no one will bother me.<\/span><\/h4>\n


    \nAfter dinner, we make the regular drops at a series of shooting galleries. The last stop is the small house where the dogs snarl and snap at the floor. The Man in Charge greets me with a sparkle in his eye engulfing me in a bear hug that reeks of his strong scent mixed with spices. \u00a0I am familiar with the routine: drugs are sampled, a pimp arrives near midnight with a line of dazed girls following an evening of prostitution, guns are displayed,\u00a0 a variety of weapons laid out on the dining room table. <\/span><\/h4>\n

    On Saturday nights I am dressed to go out. Tonight I am in velvet bells and an embroidered mirrored vest made in India worn over a halter top. Medicine Man dresses in a kind of uniform, expensive slack and oxford shirt with an open jacket, sometimes made of leather, always buttery soft penny loafers. He leaves the dark green Jaguar with the valet attendant and ushers me into the venue. We are led to the private lounging area of some green room filled with bouquets of welcome to town flowers, buckets of champagne, trays of cut fruit, vegetables, crackers, and exotic cheeses. I hang out with whatever well-known rock band is touring through town before and after their concert. Medicine Man’s briefcase ever at the ready as business goes down.<\/span><\/h4>\n

    After the concert back at the apartment, Medicine Man walks me to the kitchen door. This is unusual. Every other weekend he has given me a hug and a light kiss on the cheek as I exit the car at the front curb. This time he parks and walks me up the driveway, his arm around my waist he guides me up the back stairs, holds the door open and steps inside behind me. He stays the night. He does not ask. He has given me a place to stay, which now includes the use of my body. I count the thirteen years between us for the first time. He is so old.<\/span><\/h4>\n

    In the morning while he meets with D at the kitchen table I read.<\/span><\/h4>\n

    How to Make Your \u2018Nerves\u2019 Work for You<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

    The word \u201ccrisis\u201d comes from a Greek word which means, literally, \u2018decisiveness,\u2019 or \u2018point of decision.\u2019<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

    A crisis is a fork in the road.
    \nOne fork holds a promise of a better condition __
    \nthe other of a worse condition \u2026 every crisis situation is two-pronged.<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

    Concentrate on what you want.
    \nFeel that you can make it happen.<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

    I recognize the fragility of the situation. The boys from the neighborhood who work for Medicine Man come by a few times a week.\u00a0 They hang out on the porch and in the kitchen. They drink beer and smoke. They are all friends having grown-up with D. They want to stay close to the money and the opportunity that they know the Medicine Man offers. This is their neighborhood, their turf. They constantly tell stories that prove they own these streets. Nothing happens here without their approval. Their fathers and grandfathers<\/a><\/span> sit back and smoke cigars in the restaurants making deals in the backrooms while the boys are on the corners. In training. No one rents or even walks on the sidewalk without their okay. They are laughing. They are standing around in the kitchen all puffed up and proud. They are telling D how they have ambushed a college student. The semester started two months ago, the student was caught taking the most direct route to the university, unknowingly crossing through ‘their village’. They stalk and grab pulling him into an alley. They brutally beat him to \u2018teach him a lesson\u2019. He has the \u2018wrong color\u2019 skin. He has no right to show his face here. They constantly boast about being ‘on patrol’. They pursue any car driven by a black man who dares to make a wrong turn ending up on one of the two main roads that intersect the neighborhood. These others are \u201cinvaders.” I hear them declaring, \u201cWe have to protect our women.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/h4>\n

    The apartment has only one door that comes into the kitchen. Off the kitchen are the small bedrooms, mine is beside D&K\u2019s. The bedrooms face the street. The door into the tiny windowless bathroom is in the opposite corner of the kitchen. It is not possible to leave or even sit outside the kitchen on the long roofed porch without passing by anyone who happens to be hanging out around the table most likely tilted back balanced on the two back legs of a wooden chair. When D\u2019s \u2018brothers\u2019 come by I stay in my room. I have experienced the way these men look at girls. I see them out on the street constantly combing back their hair and calling out. Most of the neighborhood girls bother them back. There is a give and take, a language that I do not know. The guys dress in sleeveless white t-shirts or slinky Italian silks with rolled sleeves, the front buttons half-open, lots of jewelry, roving eyes. They know what belongs to them. \u00a0<\/span><\/h4>\n

    I hear the loud voices of the \u2018brother\u2019s\u2019 moving down the steep back stairs. Their voices are drowned out by a passing commuter train. They cluster out on the street below my bedroom window. Horns honk underscoring the shouts back and forth. Loud mufflers rev repeatedly. Windows down, radios blare, always ready to arrange a drag race. Girls with big hair, tight shorts, cats \u2019eyes, and red lips linger seductively. Whistle-laughs, smoke-rings, and combs running through slick-backed greasy pompadours check out the girls. A slow-moving parade of cars passes by filled with those who own these streets. A scene from my sister’s favorite movie, Westside Story<\/em><\/a><\/span>, is playing live.<\/span><\/h4>\n

    A long time later, after the street grows quiet, once the kitchen air is clear of the dense smell of cigarettes, weed and the echo of their obscenities I go to the sink, run water into the battered aluminum pan and make a cup of peppermint tea. I think of The Farm. I think of \u2018Stranger in a Strange Land<\/em><\/span><\/a>.\u2019<\/span><\/h4>\n

    Aside from these episodes, my days are protected. I am not being bothered. I can heal and begin to work for Lovely Lady. I enjoy the adventure of leaving this place and going up the hill. Lovely Lady is delighted by my competence having worked in retail since I turned fifteen. My artist’s eyes come alive within this <\/span>exotic place. There are clothes in the most elegant and lush fabrics, a very select collection taking up only one corner in the back. I bought my velvet pants and mirrored vest on my initial visit. The rest of the splendidly arranged space feels museum-like. Hardwood handcrafted antique bookcases filled with titles to explore. Jewelry cases, many with wavy glass fronts, hold hammered silver earrings, opal, turquoise, sterling rings, leather and antique silver bracelets, stone pendants, many turquoise, leather, silver-tipped bolo.<\/span><\/h4>\n

    On the lower shelves of the longest display cabinet lay bulbous wooden musical instruments carved or inlaid with mother of pearl and silver wire. Amazing animal kites hang from above, their cloth tales wave slowly near the wooden paddles of the ceiling fans. I ask what the instruments are and she answers with a word I have never heard. \u201cThose are antique sitars.\u201d she says, smiling broadly, \u201cThey are made in India and are difficult to find. This one is rosewood inlaid with abalone shell and sterling $1500.00 and the one beside it, intricately carved dark mahogany, sells for $2500.00. Aren\u2019t they incredible?\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/h4>\n

    My world is small and highly charged, things are feeling electric.<\/span><\/h4>\n

    I look forward to this new part of my experience. That night I read myself to sleep:<\/span><\/h4>\n

    The Secret<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

    The secret lies in the attitude of fearlessly accepting the challenge and confidently expending our strength. This means maintaining an aggressive goal-directed attitude, rather than a defensive, evasive, negative one. <\/span><\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

    \u201cNo matter what happens, I can handle it, or I can see it through __ rather than, I hope nothing happens.\u00a0 Keep your goal in mind. <\/span><\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

    The essence of this aggressive attitude is remaining goal-oriented. You keep your positive goal in mind. You intend to \u201cgo through\u201d the crisis to experience, to achieve, your<\/span> goal. You keep your original positive goal, and do not get sidetracked into secondary ones ___ the desire to run away, to hide, to avoid__ by the crisis situation. <\/span><\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

    Attitude of fight rather than fear or flight. If your attitude, or goal, is to go forward, if it is to make the most of the crisis situation, and win out in spite of it, then the excitement of the occasion will re-enforce this tendency __ it will give you more courage, more strength to go forward. <\/span><\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

    Don\u2019t mistake excitement for fear. Any normal person who is intelligent enough to understand the situation becomes \u201cexcited\u201d or \u201cnervous\u201d just before a crisis situation. Direct it toward a goal. Direct excitement and nerves toward a goal.<\/span><\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

    It is dark before dawn. I am deep asleep. Am I dreaming? I have a feeling that something is in the room with me. <\/span><\/h4>\n

    I hold my breath. <\/span><\/h4>\n

    I hear movement outside and then my bedroom window is being raised. <\/span><\/h4>\n

    The piece of wood that holds the frame (so fresh air can come in) falls. I do not move but my eyes open wide. A form climbs through the window in silhouette. The figure looms large and approaches my bed whispering, \u201cShhhhh. Shhhhh. Don\u2019t say a word.\u201d His hand covers my mouth.<\/span><\/h4>\n

     <\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

    Dear Readers, I am standing for the courage and the tenacity of this nineteen-year-old woman. In 1968 there is no term for post-traumatic stress. Her support system helping to ferry her through these rocky straits are the letter from Alice and the two books. I honor the time it has taken for her to reach […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[36,99,32],"tags":[75,26,338,337,298,311,259,339],"class_list":["post-8316","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-artlife","category-donna-iona-drozda","category-starting-over","tag-alice-twitchell","tag-artist-blog","tag-drug-dealing","tag-mafia","tag-rape","tag-tao-te-ching","tag-traumatic-injury","tag-violent-attack"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6htPT-2a8","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8316","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8316"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8316\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8327,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8316\/revisions\/8327"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8316"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8316"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.donnaionadrozda.com\/lifecycle\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8316"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}