I'm going to have to use this blog to mean Journaling for me. I am bursting at the seams with nowhere safe to write my journal. So, I will share it here. If the world wants to know what the daughter of a self-made multimillionaire/visionary jotted as notes along life's way, this is my story. You'll hear the good and the bad; the boring and the sad but I will bet that you will always leave your visit here with me glad. I got a laptop, thinking it was not tethered to electrical and possible lead peripherals to that lap-buddy on my lap while on the couch or in the recliner. I have kept Journals since the early 70's. After a crushing loss of 6 yrs of words, I started over in 1984. I had quite a collection as I was writing sometimes 2-3 times a day. I wrote to God. He listened. I was taking the biggest jump of my life. I was leaving all family ties in order to lead the Christian life that I had been following and that I promised to God, since I turned 7. The family talked the talk, but the family did not walk the walk. My parents r.i.p. could be cruel in every possible way. They were stuck in high school behavior. Mom made the last three sisters during weekend visits by dad to mom. Five kids, personally I think we were beautiful Irish 90%, Scotch 10% beauties, he dumped the family first when mom got pregnant with me. He brought us all home from the hospital. Neither mom nor dad remembered the names mom game to me or my brother on the birth certificates because dad wouldn't come up to the room, so she winged it. I found out as an adult when I had to send to that far West state for a copy of my birth certificate. My brother had to get one for the service too. Both of use had gone through all of of schooling with illegal names. It still shocks me to think we were so insignificant. But it sets the first stage: Two new kids under 16 months, my mom's only sibling brother dying of ALS with mom tending to him via beer and vodka, I think. She wasn't around me much. They were both in their 20's. He was sent home to her from the war to die after the diagnosis. Her mom died when mom was only 18. With my dad staying out all night, or a week at a time, it all drove my mom to stay tanked. She was so very shy. She was so very Irish. 5"4", Long black, black hair, with blue blue eyes. She was a dancer. I will always thank her for letting me have dancing lessons from 4 until 14. I almost made the cheerleading squad in high school because I knew how to move. I tore my ACL going for the splits in tryouts. I never jumped or cheered so dramatically again. I healed.
My first entrepreneurial enterprise was between my 5th and 6th summer of life. My brother and I had fushia (hot pink) costumes with diamond like glitter all over each of them. Mine had a skirt, he had long pants, we both had long sleeve shirts and tap shoes! I thought the applause at the formal recital was for my personal contribution, not just because we were cute. So I put on my left -over recital costume and talked my brother into dancing "one more time", then I walked the neighborhood selling tickets for $0.05 each for a performance to be held in our home driveway at dark - so the spotlight would work (the garage light). I borrowed chairs from the closeby neighbors and we set up the driveway like it was a movie theater. We had a crowd of standing room only! Most people were standing to watch even if they paid for a chair. We hit the garage light, and we were on!! We blared the music from the house and we did do a fine performance. I thank my brother to this day, for being a good sport and finishing out his "dancing" career doing The Production. I have never stopped looking for ways to make myself smile, this memory will always be one of the special ones. Kitty Kelso