Hey There Lonely Love

By Kathy Milica Tyrity

Hey There Lonely Love is about my tragic lovelife which I survived, but too many men lead to a calamnity. In it, I tell about the psychology of my early life and ways which later lead to a brick wall -- almost the end of my life. And I want to tell this to as many young women as possible, so that they realize that such a great string of men can make you feel worthless in the end..

However, look for some wonderful love stories in this book, and remember the old song, Hey There Lonely Boy. Im afraid the sad ending is true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 7, 2002
• ISBN: 9781469100241

Kathy Milica Tyrity

Miss Kathy M. Tyrity is a long-time newspaper writer and editor, and has a degree with honors in Journalism. She has been nominated for Who’s Who In America for 2003 for her work and has published another book, entitled, “Do You Hear What I Hear? Study of The Mind and Magic” which is also available on the Ingram Book List by First Books Library at your retailer or on-line. Kathy is an award-winning poet, along with other awards for her writing and photography. Her work is well-known in Sarasota, Ohio and Indiana. She also offers a free list of prophetic, spiritual and autobiographic books -- as well as much poetry -- through her company, Baltic Sea Mystic Enterprises, at P.O. Box 3984, Akron, Ohio 44314.

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Copyright © 2002 by Kathy Milica Tyrity.

Copyrighted 1993 Autobiography of a news reporter

Forest Gnomes Publishing Co. Akron, Ohio—Baltic Sea Mystic Enterprises, Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any

form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,

or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing

from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

As long as I remember I was a child. And I could not face life by myself.

During the time that I was three, I was made to feel I faced life all alone. I liked to bathe in the blow-up pool my parents had for my sister and me. But every time I got wet, I liked to take off my suit, which was a pair of panties for little girls. Anyway, it was summer and the little boys and other girls in the neighborhood came over, about my age. My sister was a year older. And we all swam in the pool. My mother would put pails of boiled water in with the hose water to make sure it was warm for us. And we all swam. I especially remember the twin boys who were I guess a year and a half older. I liked them very much and they always imitated the Beep Bop Baby record and Yellow Polka Dot Bikini. They grew up to be rock singers in California.

Well, this one afternoon, I was in my usual mood and found us all swimming on a Sunday noon-time. I asked Ronnie if he wanted to take off his pants because sometimes he did, and he was reluctant to do that because something was unusual about the day. My mother had a camera set up on a tripod, focused on us children. But I hadn’t noticed at the time. I just got up and tried the peeling of a wet suit across a wet bottom. I looked up and saw Ma at the camera.

Are you trying to photograph us, Ma? I asked, almost spellbound.

No, honey, she replied, Just go on and get back in.

I got back in hurriedly, no pants on, and enjoyed the lukewarm water. I always liked it this way, but I was just a baby.

Really, in the years before I had taken off my diapers and even hung them on the neighbor’s doorknobs to get free of the yuck. I just enjoyed being free in the summer days in Akron, Ohio dirt streets and all.

I looked up in a while at the camera and it seemed to be rolling. No film in it, said Mama. Just practicing, Well, I considered that she well could be because Daddy usually took all the films. And we had plenty. Every recordable event in the history of the Tyrity family was in that gray cabinet stacked taller than I would ever be able to reach. So I played some more.

But then I was horror stricken. She really was recording it. And my bare bottom would be shown outside to the crawl-in theater, just like the family reunions and stuff. I was flushed with panic and got out, shivering. I picked up the wad of muddy panties and opened them, losing my balance. A chubby leg stepped in and I wobbled in, tugging on the wadded cotten, minus any lace, and just hoped I could get into them before I burst into tears.

They weren’t quite straight, but Ronnie yelled, Get in here, you little twit. And I took his hand, stepping on the balloon rim for a second. The water always rushed over it for a minute when people accidentally stepped on it.

We all played some more, and after a while we did something else and the camera stayed out all day. I found out later, my Mom was sick of me taking off my underwear and wanted to embarrass me by playing a trick on me that way. When a few weeks passed and the bundle of film came back in the mail (Daddy always did the splicing in the basement), a little bit of laughter was heard over his masonite tool bench, and he showed Mama on the little screen that came with the splicing machine. That was always fun to watch the movies (first on the wall before the splicing machine) on the little, tiny machine. And then either on the ordinary screen in the living room or outside on the side of the neighbor’s garage, painted white. So, it was to be shown outside. Of course, I didn’t know that there really was a film about my bare bottom, but I was hoping for a miracle that it wasn’t really on camera at all.

They didn’t tell me anything and I had no idea during that beautiful green grass summer.

The street had only a little grass, but our yard was plentiful with it. And that Friday night, all the 20 or so kids in the neighborhood and some of their parents were invited to bring their blankets and lawn towels and come over our back yard. They all showed up, about 8, and we sat on the plush bed of grass, under the stars. There was popcorn and iced tea. And Mama was dressed in a striped cotton shirtwaist with her brown hair pulled back and just a simple smile, I guess. She really was pretty, and I knew all the women considered my Dad an extremely handsome man. Roll the films.

I can’t really remember what was on the whole film, but I think it was the slow-motion film in which all the children jumped backwards onto the new porch Dad had built. I rememember it was filled with tin cans and bottles that were supposed to help it somehow. Another friend of Dad’s at the factory had built his porch the same way and that’s how he got the idea. I still wonder about that junk.

So the porch was featured in the very summer it was poured. Concrete that is. And proud of it was the Tyrity family.

The other portions of the film had to do with the jeep which Dad had built for my eldest sister (11 years older) when she was a baby. Finally, I saw the outdoor scene and the clear sky backyard. We were all playing in the sandbox. And we got in the pool. Linda, who was 14 months older than I, was also in underpanties and playing in the pool. Alicia and Charlotte were a little dirty but also in the pool. And Ronnie and Donnie were scouting around with their little guns, and then in the pool. I frolicked along in the sun, brown skin kind of plump and proportionately just chubby. But my fine light brown hair wisped around in the breezes and showed off my even then lustrous brown eyes. I was just a delight to my mother, I guess, who even then, knew I looked just like her. We all looked like my grandmother who had died when my Ma was 2, in West Virginia. I took a step in the pool then smiled and sat down. Watching the screen, my skin quivered because I pleaded with God that I was not to be shown naked. Then, up on the garage I sat in the water squirming uncomfortably. I got up and showed my butt, sidestepping with overweight thighs out of the pool onto the puddled grass. And I did it. I took off my bathing suit and laid it down. I looked nowhere, but got back in and said a few words then talked to Ronnie. He must have said something to me. And my face became horror stricken, and I put on the wet panties and tried to recoup my graciousness. A little girl watching the screen (me) got up and tried to disappear. She was indeed more panic stricken than at any time in her long, harmonious life. And she fled. She just ran and hoped never to see any of her dear friends or her mother again.

She went in the house because she didn’t know where to go on a dark, awful night. Where would she go? To her room? No, she needed to get away for good. Into the downstairs broomcloset she went. No one would find here there. She made a run for it, catching her spilling face in her shaky hands. No more waiting—the tears came, and she cried her insignificant little heart out.

In the dark closet she waited. Silent, but crying out loud and sobbing. It was horrible, and she was more fearful than she would be again for 20 years. Nothing would ever be right. And she would never come out of that closet.

CHAPTER TWO

Now, I was four. It had been a few years since the braces were off my legs and I desparately wanted to go to school. Most