My Life Is a Soap Opera

By Ms. Ms. Angela

My Life Is a Soap Opera is just what the title entails.

One moment I'm enjoying my teen life and boom--someone close to me dies tragically.

I get married and envision living happily ever after and boom--my husband hits me so hard I fall to the floor.

Moving forward I live with a man who tells me all the time how much he loves me and boom--all that time he is married.

There's a song by George Strait titled "All My Exes Live in Texas"--well, all my exes are from hell!

I can vividly hear the voice of the opening of the soap opera Days, as a child I was in awe looking at that hourglass while listening to the announcer say, "Like the sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives." That hourglass is me with the addition of me always having a positive attitude. This book is a collection of memories that I choose to share.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781098093440

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My Life Is a Soap Opera

Ms. Angela

Copyright © 2021 by Ms. Angela

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Homicide Is Better Than Suicide

Pin Curls and Bobby Pins

Domestic Violence

My Cancer Story

Child Support

How Many Frogs Will I Kiss before Finding My Prince

Homicide Is Better Than Suicide

In the late 1950s, my mother was divorced, struggling to raise five children from toddlers up to preteen. My oldest sister was married and living in Memphis, Tennessee. Child support had not been established during this time. Every other weekend, two weeks in the summer, and the father mandatorily paying child support had not been established. Life was not easy for my mother who cleaned houses to make ends meet.

When school was out, my three older siblings were off to the cotton fields to chop cotton—picked up in the early hours of the morning and dressed in cotton-pickin clothes: long-sleeved shirts, pants, hat, gloves so your hands would not blister from holding the hoes. For those who don’t know what a hoe is, it’s not the derogatory term referring to a woman. A hoe is the garden utensil used to actually chop the cotton.

Even though the days would get hot, one did not wear short sleeves and shorts. To keep cool and to protect the skin walking up and down field rows of dirt, weeds, and of course cotton, one dressed appropriately. Everyone took towels with them, usually a big towel placed around the neck. It stayed there to wipe off the sweat while working. Others had hand towels in their shirt or pants pocket.

The person driving, going house to house picking up all who were chopping the cotton had several water coolers and ice. Everyone took their packed lunches and had their own thermoses of water. It was understood to take everything needed. There would be no time for going anywhere for lunch or someone picking up for lunch. Sometimes family or friends would come to the field and bring lunch, ice, and refreshments.

They had to start about 3:00 a.m. to pick up everyone and be at the cotton field, ready to chop cotton by sunrise. While riding, some went to sleep, and others listened to a transistor radio someone brought. Everyone talked to each other.

Sunrise was the best time to do this tedious job because it wasn’t hot yet. As the hours went by, the hot sun had no mercy. Breaks were allowed and later lunchtime. By the early afternoon, it was time to go home. They started early and finished early before it got unbearably hot outside. However, there were times they needed to work longer hours and or work six days a week. No one worked on Sunday. It was understood to keep Sunday holy. That day began with Sunday school then worship service.

During these times, the money made from chopping cotton paid for school clothes, supplies, and food. After the cotton grew, it was time to pick the cotton. My mom and brothers and sisters lived on a farm. When walking out of our home, you see fields all around—kind of like when you’re driving on a road trip on a highway and you see fields. Well, fields were the norm for us. When it was time for the fields next to our home for the cotton to be picked or chopped, my mother did her share of working in the field.

After the cotton season ended, living got hard. Money from the cotton season didn’t last to the next season. My mother did not clean houses daily; plus, she had two children not old enough to attend school. My mom was the babysitter. She could not afford to pay someone to watch her kids while working.

The fathers of my brothers and sisters were not dependable. Three of my siblings were by my mother’s ex-husband. My mother wasn’t married to her youngest child’s father. Unfortunately, in that time, especially in the South, if a man and a woman had a child and the couple wasn’t married, most men went about their merry way. Maybe that’s one reason there is mandatory child support today.

My mother dealt with the hand she was dealt. Once a week my mother would meet with the father of my three older siblings to visit, and he would give my mother $10. Not $10 per child, he gave her $10 total. This cycle was going south (no pun intended). The older kids were getting lunch meals at school, but the rough times were taking its toll. Times were hard, money was scarce, and everyone was hungry. All my mother was doing was not enough.

My mother thought about what she could do for improvement. She owned her home, which was passed down to her from her parents. She remembered her mother telling her, Don’t ever sell your property or your children. My mother was getting exhausted of seeing her children starving. As difficult as things were, she began to consider putting her two younger kids up for adoption. Not because she wanted to, but because she felt life would be better for her children if they could be with a couple who can provide better than she is able to provide.

I’m not sure who all my mother mentioned this thought to. I know she mentioned this to my oldest sister, but my sister as well as others were having a hard enough time raising their own families. No one was interested in getting extra children. My mom didn’t keep asking because she felt alone and feared more rejection.

In this time, the early 1960s, the thought of having children then putting them up for adoption was absolutely unheard of. This is the choice my mother made. The hardest decision she made in her lifetime. Two couples adopted my siblings, a brother and a sister, in St. Louis, Missouri. My mother wanted visitation; this was another thought process ahead of my mother’s time.

A few times, visitation was allowed. My brother and sister were doing fine. One of the visits, my mother asked my brother if he wanted to come back to live with us. My brother said no.

Several years later, my brother and I talked about the last time he came home to visit. My brother told me he didn’t want to come back because our older brother used to hit and pick on him. With my brother living in St. Louis, that sibling rivalry ended. I am the seventh child. I was born about three years after the adoption decision.

Things slowly got better for my mother. Before I was born, my mother was able to work more. My parents were not married. Unfortunately, my father wasn’t in my life. This pattern was still the norm. My brothers and sisters were much older than me, so before I started elementary school, all of them had left home except for one.

My oldest sister who lived in Memphis moved to Los Angeles, California. My brother and sister followed suit. They helped my mom out when they could. We were not wealthy, but my mother did not have to consider putting me up for adoption.

Throughout my childhood I often, and I mean often, heard people’s comments regarding my mother putting my two siblings up for adoption. None of these comments were good.

We lived in a rural area, so when my sisters and brothers were old enough to leave home, they left. They wanted to see what it was like to live in other parts of the country. It was now time for my last sister, the one that I did have a close relationship with, to leave home. My sister did not want to chop cotton this summer season. The next day after her high school graduation, my sister moved to Detroit, Michigan.

My sister came home to visit often. One year when I was about ten years old, my sister came home from Detroit, and she and my mother went to St. Louis to see my sister and brother who were put up for adoption. They were reunited after all this time.

They were doing very well. Both were living with couples that took great care of them. They were both the only child in their households. Sometimes my brother and sister would come home from St. Louis to visit, so we all began to know each other. My brother enlisted in the Army. My sister was in high school. We kept in touch.

I was twelve years old when my sister graduated from high school in St. Louis. The summer of 1976, my sister from St. Louis and I spent the summer with our sister in Detroit. To this day, that was the best vacation of my life!

My idol was my sister in Detroit. I was so excited to stay with her. While she worked, my other sister and I babysat our nephew while bonding with each