Tag Archives: vocab

AIDS 1970S to 1987 +VOCAB

6 Jan

I am a pragmatic, maybe even sagacious person, but as a lesbian, I am not particularly concerned about getting AIDS, or any sexually transmitted disease.  I feel my chances of getting some gross STD are nominal, and only those that mess around with the “dirty stick” should really take precautions.   I fully realize, seeing my arrogated statement in print, this makes me seem like an irresponsible, teenager, but it isn’t as if I gambolaround, having sex with just any Tomika, Dicketta, or Harriot.  Even though AIDS has not personally  afflicted me, or anyone I know, even, this does not mean has not created a cacophonyin my world.  As a child, I remember my own parents claiming without justification that AIDS was a “Sinner’s Disease” only affecting the gays, the promiscuous, and IV drug users-sacrosanct people couldn’t get it.  As appalling and narrow-minded as this sounds, that was a common perception that permeated not only the culture, but scientists in the 1980’s and even into the 1990’s.

It is known between the mid 1970s and the 1980’s, a bevy of people died from a mysterious disease, but they were all gay so the inimical public largely ignored the outbreak.  Media coverage was all but quiescent in those early days–nobody cared about a bunch of delinquents presumably because they were getting what they deserved.   Before 1981, the homosexual lifestyle at large was a secret nuanced only by several AIDS deaths.  Since no one acknowledged that gay male sex was common everywhere, no one knew the catalyst for AIDS, how it was spread, or more importantly, how to prevent it.  People were not overly concerned by AIDS because it seemed endemic to homosexual populations.

In 1982, the Center for Disease Control started keeping record of AIDS deaths, and people became alarmed when the number kept proliferating.  Chaos ensued as more and more people died.  Impetuous, unprotected (gay) sex was implicated in the AIDS outbreak.  Suddenly, the bonhomie of the 1970’s, especially for homosexuals, was appropriated.  The origin of the disease was ambiguous, as was who it inflicted, transmission, symptoms, morbidity, and mortality rates–there was little knowledge, only fear.  The fears (and prejudice) of the American public was exacerbated when several European countries reported AIDS deaths.

The media coverage remained invidious, writing off the AIDS deaths as a consequence of caustic homosexuality.  The preconceived notion that HIV was acquired through some inequity, meant little funding was alloted towards research or education.  The disease burgeoned with such rapidity that a panic was provoked.  In 1981, statements about how to contract AIDS and who was susceptible were quickly repudiated as more and more cases, on a vast array of people came to light.  In 1984, America got a partial reality-check (and even more nettled) when a hemophiliac (the innocent and pristine-living 13 year old) named Ryan White got AIDS from  contaminated blood transfusion.  Until then, people thought AIDS could be prevented by prudence alone.  Reading Ryan White’s poignant Wikipedia entry made me furious–the ignorance, prejudice, and fractious behavior of the school and town who feared catching AIDS seemed ridiculous.  That is, until I read that in 1983 the American Medical Association (a trusted source)  published a report that said, “Evidence Suggests Household Contact May Transmit AIDS” that did nothing to venerate (but everything to further irritate the public) Ryan White’s status as the Thyphoid Mary of AIDS.  The reactions to White’s diagnosis were stinging and volatile:  He was banned from school, called a acrid homosexual, his house was shot at, and when the law finally allowed him to return to his classes, half of the other children attending the public school were kept home by piquant parents.

According to Blood Saga: Hemophilia, AIDS, and the Survival of a Community 90% of all hemophiliacs treated with blood-clotting factors between 1979 and 1984 were infected with HIV!  By 1983, AIDS was thought by both the vexed community and puzzled scientists alike, to afflict those with poor decorum, such as homosexuals, whores, and heroin addicts as well as the unlucky:  Hemophiliacs and Haitians.   Because there was only a scintilla of factual and reliable information about AIDS, the confused public perception ranged from leery to fanatically prejudiced.  AIDS claimed lives with such alacrity, that it was difficult to study.

In 1984, Dillion, of the CDC, published information on a patient zero, ostensibly thought to be responsible for the AIDS pandemic.  This patient zero was Canadian flight attendant, Gaëtan Dugas whose unprotected sex around the globe kindled a mass outbreak.  The sexually insatiable Dugas was diagnosed with Kaposi’s Sarcoma in June 1980 and told it might be a sexually transmitted virus.  Unconscionably, Dugas continued traveling widely and having promiscuous, unprotected sex–telling some of his conquests they might be sick after the deed was done.  It was still not unequivocally known how AIDS was contracted or spread, who who was susceptible to it.  It wasn’t until 1985, when (secretly gay) Rock Hudson died, that any public figure had explicitly mentioned having the illness.  Even then, the exasperated Hudson was never candid about being gay or having AIDS–prior to his death he claimed having a fatal liver disease.

Though the Center for disease control was inundated with reports of deaths, amazingly AIDS did not even have one name until 1986!  Neologisms like gay compromise syndrome, GRID (gay-related immune deficiency), gay cancer, and slim, had been used to describe the disease until then.  Before 1986, the scientific and medical communities described AIDS by the symptoms that arose from it and jargon such as:  Kaposi’s Sarcoma (KS), Pneumocystis carinii pneumonia (PCP), Kaposi’s Sarcoma and Opportunistic Infections (KSOI), lymphadenopathy (swollen glands), AID (acquired immunodeficiency disease), community-acquired immune dysfunction, and AIDS (Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome) was first properly defined by the CDC in September 1982.  The obstinate and irked public still refused “normal people” could contract AIDS.  The aggrandizement of AIDS from “Gay Cancer” to preventative syndrome of all classifications of people did not occur until the mid 1980’s.

The fact HIV could lead to AIDS was not known, let alone the gestation period of the disease.  In the 1970’s, 1980’s, and and even 1990’s, HIV meant the knell of death tolling–with the afflicted dying sooner rather than later.  In 1987 there was the slogan:  “AIDS, don’t die of ignorance” which helped people be more judicious about all aspects of the disease.  Where the public had been apathetic and indolent about AIDS awareness before this time, 1987 sparked a rash of education, organizations, and publicity for AIDS.  The famous San Fransisco quilt, featuring a square for each life the disease has taken, served two purposes:  Lament the deaths, and personalize each AIDS victim and raise overall awareness.  The slogan “silence=death” was meant to nettle the general public into action.

President Regan forced an end to the chauvinistic battle that had been raging between The Pasteur Institute and U.S. Department of Health and Human Services about who discovered HIV and identified it as the cause of AIDS.  Fighting the battle of ownership left AIDS research inchoate at a time when peeved people needed answers and a cure.  In 1987, The U.S. Public Health Service added HIV to the list of diseases that could prohibit entry into the United States, garnering laconic, if any publicity.  World AIDS Day was launched in December 1988 to advocate education and raise awareness about the disease.  “Understanding AIDS” (a pre’cis on the disease) by C, Everett Koop, Surgeon General, was the most read publication in June 1988.

The United States emulated other countries and tried out a the first needle exchange to reduce spread of AIDS between IV drug users in New York City.  It was shut down in 1990, and Jonathan Mann resigned as the head of the WHO AIDS, saying the world was too listless in bothering with the pandemic.

In August 1989 results from the drug trail AZT proclaimed the drug could cause a longer abeyance of AIDS in HIV positive patients with no side effects.    Many hostile people castigated the manufacturing company, antagonistic Burroughs Wellcome for being greedy when it was found a year’s supply of AZT cost $7,000!

The CDC had to corroborate recalcitrant 22-year old Kimberly Bergalis’ story that she got AIDS from her dentist David Acer during a procedure in July 1990.  She was very loquacious that she had no other risk factors, she was a virgin, had never used IV drugs, and had never received a transfusion, and her story checked out.  Then, after the trials and death of the dentist an (unreferenced)  gynological exam showed chicanery on the part of dissident Bergalis:  She had both HPV and genital warts–which are sexually transmitted.

Magic Johnson, an NBA player for the Lakers, was the first (non-gay) public figure to announce he was HIV positive in 1992, causing a frenetic response from the public.

The hoary AIDS description was redefined by the CDC in 1992 to include symptoms by IV drug users and women.

In France, 4 doctors, including former director of the transfusion service, Michel Garretta, went on trial for knowingly andfurtively distributing HIV-tainted blood supply 1980-1985.  There was, understandably, an adverse public reaction.

Homeless + vocab

2 Jan

At the acme of my worst financial situation, I was lucky to have people who were able to provide financial support, so I wasn’t at risk of becoming homeless.  I can’t imagine losing my job and having to abdicate my house.  Instances of homelessness could be reduced substantially if people would just abstain from drugs.  I advocate laws that keep homeless out of sight and away from the public–desperate people could do anything.  When you are in money trouble, you need to react with alacrity to avoid real trouble.  Government assistance alleviates a lot of hardship, but they don’t have enough money to support everyone–and there is a lot of hoop-jumping required.

The life of a homeless person must be so ambiguous–I can’t imagine having no place to go and no schedule or routine.  Something arbitrary could happen to anyone and cause them financial trouble–especially if no one is in a position to help them when they need it.  A strung out person probably could not articulate that they need help–so they will get more and more desperate.  I have a constant phobia that the homeless will assail me to rob, rape, and render me dead.

Bifurcating with an addiction is very difficult and requires outside help in most cases.  I think there are government programs designed to teach a technical skill or provide education so the homeless can bolster their position in life.  Irresponsible people, who live only for bonhomie can get themselves in economic trouble quickly.  Hopefully when the economy recovers, jobs will burgeon, and there will be less homeless people.

It is so annoying that homeless people feel they have to deface underpasses and train cars and walls with their graffiti.  I giveencomium to the people charitable enough to help the homeless with donations or time.  People should be able to forestallpoverty at least enough to keep shelter.  For some reason, the homeless are the most gregarious when they are outside of grocery stores.  I feel sorry for veterans and other people with mental disorders that end up homeless-as a nation it isgrievous that we treat war heroes and incompetents with such disdain.  It comes down to the fact that people heterogeneousto well-adjusted population are homeless-they fail somehow.  In my mind, it takes some time to become impecunious–it seems people should be able to avoid it.  People that are traversing through some addiction or that have some sort of mental disability are often impetuous–so that could explain some of the poeple that have no shelter.

If I were homeless I would be terrified–I would hardly remain imperturbable.  The transient people are either that way because they were bad in someway or get impious as a result of such a hard life.  The only reason people would be living outside rather than in a shelter is they are somehow intractable, addicted to some substance, or are otherwise unable to follow the rules.  Maybe my phobia has made more invidious towards the homeless–but I feel the fear is based on fact.  I believe homeless people are in that situation because they have made decisions that are less than judicious.

There must be a juncture in someone’s life where they just give in to what ever tribulation they are wading through and decide they don’t care if they have a place to live.  If homeless people could kindle any motivation there are always crap-jobs they could do–even felons.

When the homeless approach me, I am laconic as possible and attempt to disengage, because I am afraid of what they might do to me.  The homeless people fording the viscous Spokane River were languidly drinking beer when we saw them at 10:30 AM one Sunday morning.  What do you expect if you are nothing but listless?  Of course you will lose everything!  On one hand the number of homeless people makes me lugubrious, but on the other, I can’t help to think they are responsible for their situation.

When Mike brought the homeless girl into our house, I was very mannered, and didn’t know how to act.  Tabitha talked about volunteering with the homeless, but it was more meretricious than sincere.  I wonder if homeless people ever feel mirthagain?  It is ostensible that homeless people lived a smart, pious life and just fell on hard times that could not be avoided–but it doesn’t seem to happen that way often.  When I see the homeless people walking around the community, they are always cursing and loud, very plebeian in character.  If people spent wisely and used more prudence in financial decisions, there wouldn’t be nearly as many homeless people.  If I were homeless, I would be hustling to improve my situation, but it seems the people I see living on the streets are quiescent and glutinously resigned to their fate.

The “Ellen” episode where she unknowingly invites a homeless man to her repast is easy to criticize–they were so awkward!  Like addicts, probably every single thing that comes out of a homeless person’s mouth can be repudiated.  People are usually reticent about why they are living on the streets-it’s probably not a pretty story.  A lot of homeless people usetangential reasoning for why they are in dire straights–them blame other people.  Homeless people are quick to go into atirade about how it isn’t their fault. . .  Yeah. . .  Maybe if their parents had given an damn and upbraided their kids when they were naughty, teaching them responsibility, those kids wouldn’t have grown up and failed at life to become homeless.

Panhandlers are so verbose about their need–when does pride go out the window?  Kids can be whimsical, but if they don’t have a grip on reality as adults, they will be at risk.  At night, walking alone, I see wraiths of homeless people and transients in my mind’s eye.  Living outside, by a river, especially in a northern state could be zephyr and thickly cold in a hurry.

Cabin-Mansion + vocab

2 Jan

At first, I thought the fusty Cabin-Mansion was really fancy with the loft, sky light, huge television, bar, and pool table on the inside and top-of-the-line spa, wrap-around deck, outside fireplace, and lovely view outside, but as I began to SEE the people in the atmosphere, the whole place became austere to me.  Where I had been anxious to get back to Dayton during those first days at school, I soon began to dread the sight of the bleak landscape that was the vintage Cabin-Mansion.  After I learned everyone was crazy, living there seemed grim and cold.  Even the vet hospital, which I had always loved, became a more harsh place to spend time.  Mary’s constant dour expressions towards me, especially, made it all the harder to be there.  The desert was still beautiful, but after I became depressed the view took a harder, more desolate tone.  Then, the weather became severe and made the Cabin-Mansion, and Dayton, and Reno just awful places to live and work.

I’m not certain what I would do if Mary tried to contact me to disabuse all the damage that was done in 2007.  I cannot imagine Mary would ever try to set right her wrongs, anyhow.  Kim attempted in a feeble way to make Mary free of errors that were made by apologizing on her behalf–it’s not the same.  The sketchy behavior will never be corrected–I’m certain Mary will always blame me and exculpate herself from any blame.  Dayton will never be undeceived by Mary’s ruse–even if I do get my tell-all book published.  No matter how sorry Kim is, Mary’s behavior towards me was not innocuous.  My self-worth was deeply injured after I left the Cabin-Mansion–the constant games were hardly insipid.  My parents were not harmless to my well-being at that time in my life either–they damaged me a lot too.  Kim’s drinking was also not as benign as everyone in the inner circle tried to portray–she is going to probably die from her alcoholism.

Mary’s cheating was not inoffensive, though it didn’t directly affect me–I was crushed by her lack of morals.  After I witnessed Mary head-butting Kim in a drunken brawl, all that obsolete propriety that had been securely in place for the duration of our relationship was forgotten.  Mary’s decorum towards me was aloof at best and downright mean at worst.  I was surprised at the lack of appropriateness in Mary, and didn’t expect such actions from someone turning 40 (outdated).  Yes, maybe I was acting stupid, but a little guidance, or at the very least decency, could have gone a long way to improve things, rather than the horribleness that only made everything worse.

Mary’s last straw was when I impeded upon her modesty when I refused to look away and let her discretely get out of her hot tub.  Mary, Kathy, and Debi among others I’m sure, formed a prehistoric cabal eager to knock me down and get me out of Dayton.  Mary acted as if she was in the mob–very secretive and hard-core.  Mary’s clan in Dayton is mostly concerned about portraying a respectable image to the community, while living dirty.  This in-group was all cheating, drinking, and generally carousing around when they were stale enough to know better.

It seems the gays always form a camp that is opposed to Republicans and church-goers.  I could never be involved in acoterie because I am an independent free-thinker.  When I first went to Nevada, I was fairly adept at remaining incapable of being affected by my crazy, superannuated parents–but as my morality began to weaken so did my resolve to keep them out of my life.  Mary thought this new version of Laurel was impossible to penetrate, but I felt I had good reason to be stubborn with my parents–I had to maintain certain boundaries for our relationship to grow and to gain my independence from them.
I was resistant to my parents at that time because they had become emotionally distant, financially barren, and were trying to control me as they had always done in the past.  Mary used this as an excuse to get me out of her (sketchy) personal business, and became emotionally impregnable towards me as a way of turning the tables.  I tried to be impervious to the atmosphere at the Cabin-Mansion, but failed on all fronts:  I drank too much just like them, was saturated in negativity, self-loathing, and apathy just like I had criticized in them, and I went back to Missouri broken.

Both Mary and my mom have always been dictatorial in their opinions.  Trying to make my own decisions didn’t work as long as those two were so domineering a force in my life.  I thought it was ironic that Mary didn’t like my mom for acting soauthoritarian when Mary herself was also magisterial over her inner circle, family, and employees.  Mary kept saying, “It’s none of my business, I’m not getting involved” regarding the deteriorating situation with my parents–yet she becameimperious about demanding me to talk to them.  When I didn’t follow Mary’s bossy dictum, she cut off communication with me.  This also coincided with my masterful plan of placing a sock in the guest bed to see if the (superseded) hairdresser was sleeping in it, or in Mary and Kim’s bed, which proved very, very dumb of me.  As soon as Mary realized I wasn’t stupid and I had seen her cheating, she became adamant about getting me away from her (and Kim) even going as far as toperemptorily ban everyone on her good side from speaking to me.  She was dictatorial in how others were allowed to interact with me–everyone was afraid to be seen talking to me, let alone hanging out with me.  Her doctrinaire hold over everybody amazed me, especially since they had only seen the good in me and didn’t know what I had done wrong.  Soon myoverbearing mother didn’t seem so bad compared to Mary’s mob tactics to destroy me.

Song Lyrics (not mine) + vocab.

31 Dec

“The only thing that I did wrong, I stayed in [Dayton four months] too long.”

In that time, my relationship with Mary, and ultimately Kim was sullied.

My impressions of both Kim and Mary were also defiled in a big way.

My memories of Kim and Mary were also tarnished when I realized what kind of people they had become or had always been–I wasn’t sure which scenario it was.

Mary besmirched her thirteen year marriage to Kim at every turn and it made me not only lose respect for her, but disgusted me as well.

That entire time in Dayton was tainted by poor choices, strife, and missteps by all involved.

“I wrote you a hundred letters I will never send. . .  Why won’t you answer me?”

While I was still living at the Cabin-Mansion and working at DVVH, I fervidly tried to recapture all I had lost, but it was too late–the damage was done.

I would get drunk almost every night (and day) and cry feverishly mourning all I had lost.

I started zealously typing all the events that were happening because I wanted to vent my pain, keep track of the unbelievable activities, and eventually write a book.

Kim was a wild card while I was there, after I left, and even in the present, running hot and cold, making me confused depressed so I wrote impassioned letters to her throughout the book.

I had many bad dreams of Mary and dreaded ever running into her in real life, so I wrote vehement letters to her as well–though they took on an angrier tone than the ones to Kim.

I started “Facebook-stalking” Kim and sent her passionate pleas to just tell me why she discontinued all communication–which maddingly, she never answered.

My “Cabin-Mansion” book is going to be one burning inscription after another, because it was such a traumatic and unbelievable experience.

“Just b/c I’m losing, doesn’t mean I’m lost. . .  Every river that I tried to cross, every door I ever tried was locked. . .  You might be a big fish in a little pond, doesn’t mean you’ve won.”

In her mid-life crises, Mary almost immediately retracted her support of my career, abjured her friendship, and recalled our entire relationship.

While I was living at the Cabin-Mansion, Mary rejected me entirely, and said she was no longer my mentor–it still makes me feel terrible and worthless even today (3 years later) as I write this.

It hurt a lot when my former mentor recanted her letters of recommendation on my behalf, and (I’m fairly certain) talked trash about me to everyone.

Worse, Mary felt the need to call the vet school I was applying to and abandon formally her former support of my acceptance, which was (of course) detrimental to my reputation.

At the end, Mary forswore her offer to provide me the fifth wheel in her yard as housing, as well as a job at her hospital.

“Painted ourselves in a corner. . .  But you could not interpret me and I could not interpret you. . .    . . .  After all that we’d been through, I could not see giving up. . .  And now we’re tumbling in a free-fall, no ones gonna go unscathed. . .”

Mary didn’t understand why I wasn’t the same person I had been before I came out to my parents and suffered my second failure from veterinary school, and I couldn’t forgive Mary for being in a mid-life crises and becoming undisciplined though her father had died days before, her niece had died a few months before, and her wife of thirteen years was becoming a full-on alcoholic.

Though I didn’t like Mary’s unrestrained, fairly open cheating on Kim, I thought she might regain her good senses–she didn’t gve me the same chance.

My heavy drinking didn’t help raise my morale, maintain Mary’s formerly high opinion of me, or minimize my already recklessbehavior.

Despite my own shortcomings, I still lost all respect for the way Mary treated people in her life, and especially her licentiouscheating.

Even at work, Mary became lewdly hostile towards me for no apparent (work-related) reason.

At the time, Mary was going through a mid-life crises, I was in my quarter-life crises, Kim was an alcoholic, and my parents were reacting to having a gay child–all of us displayed wanton behavior as a result.

Mary’s capricious values during that five month visit left me confused and conflicted.

“You’re gonna see soon that I’m not playin’, Start asking me the names I’m not sayin’, but I’m trying to be bigger than the bickering, bigger than the petty name calling. . .  Rumors, and labels, and categorization. . .

My parents knew I would no longer talk to them if they continued trying to control me, but simultaneously withholding emotional and financial support, but that didn’t stop them from their phony inquests about why I shut them out of my life.

Both my parents and Mary had ulterior motives in their quest to accuse me of being an alcoholic:  My parents had to show the community that they didn’t know my whereabouts because I had some sort of problem, and Mary had to justify her sudden horrid behavior towards me.

Soon Mary’s closest friends and her family would probe me about my drinking, my schedule, and why I wasn’t listening to anyone–I knew she was talking bad about me to everyone who would listen.

Mary became hateful towards me, because I stupidly made my investigation of her relationship with the hairdresser known, and she didn’t want me to have too much negative information on her.

I was so shattered about my life and the dysfunction going on around me, I became unable to concentrate, and I couldn’tstudy properly.

Everyone was getting their information secondhand–Mary refused to talk to me so she would glean things from Kim, my co-workers, or her friends who talked to me, and I cut my parents out of my life, so they inquired about me to everyone they came in contact with–it was a mess.

I had just about enough when Mary sent her mother and the hairdresser to research when my finals were so she could schedule the staff Christmas party on a day when I was stuck in Reno.

You can say what you want about me, keep talking while I walk away. . .  I’m taking the high road, going above you, this is the last time I’m gonna trust you. . .  All that bullshit you talk might work a lot, but it’s not gonna work today.

One of the biggest differences from my high school work experience which was pleasant, and the horrible times I went through in my post-college years, was Mary had become a nabob where she had been just starting out in those earlier years.

When I was living in the yard of the Cabin-Mansion, Mary was constantly pulling power plays on me to show me who was in charge, and to make me want to leave for good.

I ended up leaving Nevada, but not because the magnate, Mary forced me to–I had to go back to my apartment, and job at Noah’s Ark, and to keep my Missouri residency.

I realize Mary is only influential in her small hometown of Dayton, she’s just a big fish in a small pond, but it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with the ramifications of being on her bad list.

I am currently angry at that potentate of Dayton, Mary, who still holds a grudge against me, because she knows as well as I do that my only real mistake was knowing too much about her personal life for her comfort.

Dayton may think Mary is the perfect family member, business owner, and healer she portrays herself to be, but I know the truth–she is no luminary, she’s just terrified the town will see the real her.

I think Mary was always spoiled, always had a bad temper, and always held grudges against perceived enemies and threats to her security, but I think without all her money she wouldn’t see herself as a sort of dignitary who could do no wrong in the community.

As frustrating as it is to know Mary is not just the highly motivated tycoon with upstanding morals that she wants people to know, I refuse to engage in a power struggle with her–I’ll just write a book about my experiences.

“Something happened from the very first time with you. . .  Their piercing sounds fill my ears, try and fill with me with doubt. . .  In this world of loneliness I see your face. . .  I don’t care what they say, I’m in love with you.”

I felt something powerful from the first time I met you–and from the first time I imbued upon alcohol.

When I came back to Nevada that August of 2007, all three of us were regularly charged with some sort of alcohol–it was a fun, care-free month.

I honestly tried to get myself back together when I went to Nevada, but the alcohol pervaded every aspect of the Cabin-Mansion with Kim drinking constantly, Mary drinking frequently, revolving guests, family around all the time, celebrations galore, and party after party.

Kim and alcohol were one and the same, and during my time at the Cabin-Mansion I loved both and permeated myself with them often.

Everyone involved was so sloppy that it was a freight train to disaster.

After the excitement of being there settled, I quickly realized there were many problems at the Cabin-Mansion including Kim’s drinking, but I stocked vodka in my fifth wheel so Kim would sneak out of Mary’s sight to wet her whistle, and as a consequence would chat with me for a little while.

I usually drank with Kim, but when she got a head start on me once and I saw with clear eyes how infused she was with drink I was actually afraid of both her drunkenness and how she drove home.

Despite the problem drinking (for both of us) I longed to moisten my lips with Kim. . .

It hurts my heart to see Kim’s present picture–the way her face is bloated and permanently dyed a ruddy hue.

“I can’t leave and I can’t stay. . .  Maybe I’m not your perfect kind, maybe I’m not what you had in mind. . .

Mary felt the need to issue many dictums including:  “I am no longer your mentor,” and “You are formally evicted,” which were implied, overly harsh, and unnecessary.

Though I saw things going sour almost immediately, I could not leave because I would lose enrollment money to UNR, so I had the adage, “things couldn’t get any worse,” and it proved incorrect.

Mary had the silent edict that I was not welcome in the Cabin-Mansion other than to use the bathroom, and then only during daylight hours and when no guests or company were present–this made life very difficult.

Mary also had the (not so silent) decree no one in her inner circle that was to remain on good terms with her could speak to me–it became unbearable being ostracized (for no good reason).

At first, I tried to remember that it was everyone else who was crazy and tried to live by the aphorism of keeping my head up and going about my business, but soon, the isolation and negativity got to me and affected me in a bad way.

In the end, I was completely depressed, my self esteem took a great hit, and I was very lonely–it was then my main apothegmwas to get out of there–by any means possible.

You with your silky words. . .  You with steel beliefs, that don’t match anything you do.  It was so much easier before you became you. . .  Now you don’t bring me anything but down. . .  Everything just crashes to the ground. . .  No more long and wasted nights. . .

While Mary was telling me to get my shit together, focus on school, and mend my relationship with my parents, she was falling apart in her mid life crises, cutting back her work schedule substantially, and cheating on her wife of thirteen years–wrapping my mind around the hypocracy caused me to suffer enervation that I could not stop.

I was a very languorous process trying to see Mary in a new light–and I still haven’t completely accepted it.

My biggest trigger for the debilitation called depression is finding out people (I trusted) are different than I originally thought.

As with Douche, finding out Mary was not the respectable, hard-working, loyal person I had thought she was brought on aweariness that was only relieved with alcohol.

When I lived in the Cabin-Mansion it seemed like I was always suffering from a tiredness, but unable to sleep–this was probably depression.

I wanted to prove that I could be a great student, and good worker, but the drinking caused a great listlessness, and I needed the alcohol to feel less anxious about the pervasive negativity infecting my living quarters, work environment, and everyone I ever came in contact with.

The lassitude lasted a full year after I moved away from the Cabin-Mansion–even despite my best efforts to get back on track–depression doesn’t just go away because you remove yourself from the environment which brought it on.

E-mails from the Cabin-Mansion

30 Dec

I would e-mail Mary about my good grades searching for any approval and praise from her–I usually didn’t see much of it.  Mary is so undecorated as a gay that the community was always trying to fix her up with eligible bachelors–despite the fact she was already married to a woman.  She has never been up front about her sexuality, instead telling misleading stories about the guys she’s dated.

After I moved to Missouri I hardly ever heard from Mary except when she offered some stern dictum not to be too “out” in college or suffer the consequences.  More than once, Mary painted a bleak picture of what could happen to known gays from not getting accepted to veterinary school, to not being able to own a business, to getting bashed–her words terrified me and kept me in the closet.

After I came out to Kim, Mary locked me in the bathroom and instead of consoling me about this austere, life-altering realization, asked me not to tell anyone about HER.  This slanted reaction really gave me the massage that being gay was something to hate and keep secret, but I don’t remember thinking Mary was acting out of her own self-interest at all (she was).  I also kept my sexuality a secret to get some adulation from Mary, and to protect myself.

Once Mary sent an e-mail out-of-the-blue telling me of my parents conspiracy to give away my cat, Holly–they had put a “Free to a good home” poster at Dayton Valley Veterinary Hospital.  Mary wanted me to extol her for being nice enough to tell me–I kinda thought anyone would do as much for me.  Of course I was angry and dismayed at my parents’ insurrection, but I had no way of getting the cat to Missouri to live with me–I was in the middle of a semester, had no money for a flight, couldn’t pay to have her shipped, and didn’t know anyone going from Nevada to Missouri.  At first Mary offered to help get Holly untangled from my parents’ sedition, by flying her to Kansas City when she came for a vet conference.  I guess the offer was fallacious, because then she acted as if I was asking for too much and like it was a terrible bother.  It was the easiest solution, and I was desperate so I tried to get Mary to bring Holly when she came–and learned the offer had been only illusory, when Mary became mean, offering the adage that I was being selfish towards Holly if I had her fly on a plane with Mary.

Mary felt I should still be exalting her for even telling me about my cat in the first place.  Mary’s spuriousness pissed me off, and I countered that attack with a “Never mind, don’t trouble yourself.”  Then she lectured me for my lack of propriety in copping an attitude, decreeing she didn’t have to be nice at all.  Except I only lost my decorum, because it was Mary who had suggested the plan in the first place!

Mary never liked it if I lost my modesty, got too comfortable with her, or questioned her authority.  She also didn’t like if I got too friendly or comfortable with her–preferring an indirect relationship despite our proximity.  Even when I came to live with her at the Cabin-Mansion, Mary never disabused herself for completely changing her mind about Holly.  She was still holding a grudge against me, refusing to correct any mistakes she had made.  And she still thought that I had not shown her enoughapprobation for telling me that my parents had planned to get rid of Holly.

I should have known after that the mentality I was working with, but I hadn’t undeceived myself about Kim or Mary at that time.  I did not know that either of them could ever be devious–and I certainly never expected it to be directed towards me.  The other reason Mary contacted me at all in Missouri was to offer her dogmatic opinions on various subjects and to bait me into giving her more kudos.  She would modestly tell me about great achievements like how many square feet for hospital was, just waiting for me to write back with applause and kudos.
Despite her edicts telling me to get a job at Noah’s Ark to help my chances of getting into veterinary school, she becameimperious about me quitting and finding employment at the vet school.  She no longer hailed Noah’s Ark as the way for me to get my foot into the veterinary school door.

Mary would also write when her NASCAR driver won a race, saying she had the most peremptory pick and my driver was a loser–if I dared talk trash when MY driver won, Mary would promptly become belligerent.  She even accused me of just picking winners when my driver did get acclaim, and I had to explain that I had picked him as a rookie, before he was a true winner.  She couldn’t stand to give me compliments–even through my NASCAR driver.

The other reason Mary ever e-mailed me was to talk trash about someone I knew–she was masterful in judging others, and told me how Lana cheated her, my mom tried to give away my cat, how Shaun, her sister-in-law was a liability, and how Dayton was narrow-minded.  She was infamous for giving an authoritative and evasive story, piquing my interest, but not giving the full account of what happened.  My mentor could dance around issues with ease–she accelerated at beingtangential, but never telling you what you wanted to know.

Mary’s correspondence was always abrupt and borderline rude, and though she sometimes wrote me she was always emotionally impregnable.  I think Mary was impervious to everyone, including her immediate family, her wife, and her inner circle–I have doubts she really opened up to anyone–I certainly never saw it.  The public really likes Mary, but behind closed doors she was quite acidulous about people.  Her oblique manner was a great cover though–no one knew her real feelings on any issue that she didn’t want them to know about.  Yes, she offered many apothegms, but they were blanket statements to anyone who would listen.  She was so piquant about running into people that she parked behind the hospital where no one could see her, refused to stop at the store on her time off, and generally hid out when she wasn’t working or at a social function.

As for Kim, I only received one or two e-mails in the six years I lived in Missouri–both convoluted in spelling and grammar.  At the time, I didn’t realize it, but now I think she used intricate sentence structure because she was probably drunk when she wrote.  Her elaborate letters really only talked about sports or some other inane topics–nothing very substantial.


The Mystery of Lana + vocab

30 Dec

I met the loquacious receptionist at the veterinary hospital when I began observing there again in my sophomore year of high school.  Lana’s weight problem caused her to lumber, yet she was still cheery.  I knew Lana as one of the mostgregarious, outgoing people in my life.  As I spent more time at the veterinary hospital, Lana’s chatting and constant mirthbecame part of the normal din in the small, open space of the strip-mall hospital.  One of Lana’s best friends (Mary was her primary best friend) was a big black woman, so she enjoyed wearing meretricious patterned dresses reminiscent of black church ladies.

I learned the catalyst for Lana’s presence in her original hometown of Dayton, working as a receptionist for her best friend, was the loss of her entire family.  Lana would lament about her mother who had died of cancer when Lana was still a kid, her father, who died of a heart attack, and her brother, who had shot himself.  It was obvious that Mary was a potentate in Lana’s life–she clearly needed someone to depend on.  This also meant Lana had to be compliant to each of Mary’s demands.

I’m certain some of Lana’s indolence stemmed from depression and loneliness.  The clients absolutely loved Lana’s cheeriness, but her languid work ethic made Mary crazy.  Lana always seemed to have good intentions, but it could be said she was lazy or listless.  Lana’s sometimes orotund misinformed answers to client questions was also a point of contention between her and Mary.  Lana’s gregarious and effusive talking and misinformation could easily provoke the short-tempered Mary to fits of anger.  At first I thought Lana was very smart because of her verbose manner of speech, then I realized she was mostly confident—which isn’t quite the same thing as intellegence.  Mary put up with Lana’s prattle, because she was happy to have her best friend since kindergarten, whom she could trust and depend on, working for her.  Lana was stentorian about how she was always sticking up for Mary and protecting her during their school days.  Mary always felt responsible for the sometimes impetuous Lana, because she was the only “family” she had left.

Despite any negative feelings on either side, Lana and Mary got along well most of the time and loved taking advantage ofsportive opportunities to relax and socialize.  Lana’s luminous personality always graced the Minor family holiday festivities.  Together, Mary and Lana were small town heroes who came back to the town they grew up in and graced Dayton with theirgarrulous personalities.  Everyone in Dayton loved the winsome combination of Mary and Lana and they were never without an invitation to partake in social activity.    Lana had been best friends with Mary since forever, but she also clicked with Kim right away, and they would break the monotony of work by constantly joking and saying quotes from all the movies they had watched.  With Lana and Kim around to blithely entertain me, work became fun on a personal level as well as professionally.  Lana and Kim were always kind enough to include me, 15 years their junior, in their fun which alleviated my boredom and loneliness.  In my high school years, Mary was always glib with me, fighting to keep her work and private life separate despite the fact her girlfriend and best friend who worked for her tried to always include me.  Looking back, both Lana and Kim must have been obstinate in their inclusion of me, because I always hung out with them even though Mary is extremely secretive about her personal life.

Lana was not reticent about her personal life or anything else like her friend and employer Mary, bordering on gossipy and loud-mouthed.  Of course my curiosity about Mary was never satiated, but (normally) gossipy Lana never, never told me anything personal about her.  I would eat lunch with Lana at the veterinary hospital, watch movies and drink with her and Kim after work, and go to large events with them, but Mary’s personal life always remained an enigma to me.  Mary’s prudencekept me from knowing the truth about her for the first two or three years of making her acquaintance, though I was in close proximity to her and her inner circle.

There was a client who wanted Mary to euthanize a healthy chihuahua and feeling sorry for the creature, Mary furtively gave it to a good home instead.  Unfortunately, Mary was letting go of one of the more lethargic employees during that same time and the disgruntled ex-employee happened to be friends with the original chihuahua owner.  Of course, the ex-employee wascandid about what Mary had done with the dog, not only to the original owner who had wanted it killed, but to the town, hanging up “missing” posters in the grocery stores.  The trashy original owner came to the hospital and threatened to sue Mary for illegally relinquishing the dog instead of euthanizing it as the owner had specified, creating much dissonance at work.

Mary was sick with worry, and closed the hospital the next day citing illness instead of the torpor the incident had caused her.  In order to keep Mary from losing her veterinary license, Lana and Kim got the idea to find a six pound chihuahua somewhere and have Mary euthanize THAT dog to corroborate the story that Mary had killed the original dog like she was supposed to.  Since I was the other who worked at the hospital, and their new friend, Kim and Lana invited me to help them with theirmendacious plan.  Even though the plan was clearly impious, we had so much fun spending time together and going to every humane society and rescue in Carson City and Reno looking for a six pound dog.  We laughed and bonded all day while trying to exonerate Mary!  Our quixotic efforts failed because we couldn’t find a six pound animal, so we went to Kim and Mary’s Sutro house to check on Mary.  It was probably the only time I’ve seen Mary so craven, depressed, and rumpled.  She looked terrible–ostensibly from a hangover and day of tears.  The episode was ephemeral and I don’t actually know how it was resolved other than the original owner probably just lost interest in pursuing the matter– the important thing was my relationship with Kim, Lana, and to a lessor extent, Mary was cemented.

I respected the fact Lana was an unequivocally loyal friend to Mary.  My favorite memory of Lana, and certainly of that time period, was when Kim and I went over to Lana’s duplex to make dip for a community repast for a bevy of clients that we were all going to at the Minor Ranch.  Unlike my mom’s meticulously clean house, Lana’s duplex was cluttered and messy.  Lana did not take the time to clean the house, let alone burnish the counter in preparation for company like my own mother.  I was happily astonished that we made the dip right in the middle of Lana’s living room carpet while watching a movie–something my mom would never allow in her pristine house.

Mary, Kim, and Lana were the happy trio for the first few years I knew them, but sometime during my senior year, Lana’s constant presence started to nettle Mary.  Suddenly, Mary started to gripe about Lana’s natural and endearing ostentation.  Someone defaced Lana’s car by breaking her driver’s side window and it came to light Lana didn’t have insurance or the cash to fix it.  Mary’s displeasure at Lana’s constant presence was exacerbated when she had to not only loan Lana money to have her car fixed, but then drive her everywhere for weeks while the repairs were being finished.  Lana was still servile to Mary at work and in their personal lives, because she needed Mary’s help.  Mary, a private and testy person to begin with became inundated by Lana–she was with her all day at work, for the ride home, habitually hanging around her house during their free time, then again on the way to work–it was just too much!  Soon Mary became openly invidious to Lana, but short of quitting her job at Mary’s hospital, Lana was helpless to change the situation until her car was finished.

During this time, I graduated from high school and went to live at the university an hour away, so my life was not permeatedwith news of the veterinary hospital anymore.  In the spring of 2004, I got an arbitrary e-mail from Mary, which I’ve copied directly:

“Laurel- Bad bad bad week.  Starting with Garrett dying.  Work related crushed by heavy equipment on the job (Miles Bros) the guys who are supposed to build our hospital…if we ever get funding.  I heard immediately and went with Kathy, Doug, Janet, Tom, and crew over to Michelle and Billy’s.  It was devastating.  Then first thing Monday morning Lana resigns from her job. Extremely long story.  She said for “personal reasons” but she didn’t stay for her whole 2 week notice…she walked off at lunch on Tuesday and left a forwarding address in California.  Needless to say, it wasn’t pretty.  I am pretty sure I have lost a friend over it.  Other than that…smile…it has been great.  Can you recruit me a vet from this year’s graduating class???  If you do and they stay for 1 year there is a $1000 finders fee in it for you.  Hope all is well with you.  Be safe, Mary”

Needless to say I was appalled–both that a classmate of mine had died, but by the fact Lana was gone-and Mary was so glibabout it.  I had no idea what happened that would provoke Lana to abdicate not only her receptionist job at the hospital, but her long friendship with Mary until I visited Kim (Mary was busy at work) later that summer.  Maybe she just had enough of being subservient to Mary all the time.  As Kim stood on a ladder, painting the walls to the new hot-tub room on their house, she told me of Lana’s unconscionable act.  Lana had bilked Mary out of thousands of dollars while working at the hospital!  Who knows how long she had been prevaricating about the end-of-day totals at the vet hospital.

Somehow Mary caught on to some lessor extent of the larceny and confronted Lana about it.  Lana knew better than toperjure herself further and said she had stolen much more than Mary knew, and her iniquity stemmed from a gambling problem.  No one had known about Lana’s declivity to addiction and crime, and some guessed she had a drinking problem rather than, or in addition to, the admitted gambling.  After Mary castigated Lana, their relationship was pretty much over.

When Kim told me the story, I was leery–how could the loyal, lifelong friend, who considered Mary her family, and all of us her closest friends do such a thing?!  Kim articulated she could hardly believe it either–and now Mary, who hardly trusted anyone before this incident, would never have faith in anyone again.  It was very hard to believe that Lana could equivocate to her best friend, her only family for an extended period of time.  Astonished, I asked where Lana had gone and what she was doing now, to which Kim replied after Lana and Mary bifurcated all SHE knew was that Lana was somewhere in California.  After Lana’s reputation was marred, Mary didn’t expand upon her story, and Kim never mentioned it again.  I always wondered what had really happened since the situation seemed so far-fetched and the facts were so ambiguous.

In August of 2007, the first days I still lived IN the Cabin-Mansion, Mary told me how Lana had made an appearance at her father’s funeral and paid encomium to him during their car ride together.  Surprised they could travel to the funeral together after what had happened, I asked Mary if it was awkward and her response led me to believe the ride was more an abeyancethan forgiveness.  Lana HAD to be at the funeral, because she considered Mary’s parents her parents too–Lana’s past crimes were not palliated in Mary’s mind.

I especially had doubts about the story after I lived in the chaos of the Cabin-Mansion and saw how Mary treated me for no reason.  I quickly found out that if Mary didn’t like you, she could make you disappear into the abyss.  You didn’t have todeviate from the truth, steal, or hurt anybody to get blacklisted in the community if Mary didn’t like you.  The last thing I ever heard about Lana was said to me when Mary was in the process of evicting me from her yard, hospital, and life–just as she done to Lana three years before.  But that conversation comes later. . .

I Got My Bangs Trimmed + vocab

30 Dec

When I lived in the yard of the Cabin-Mansion, my schedule was diverse:  I worked at Dayton Valley Veterinary Monday, Friday, and some Saturdays, and I got home from class in Reno at 9 PM on Tuesday and Thursday, and 8:30 PM on Wednesday.  By the time I got to the Cabin-Mansion after class, stale Kim and Mary would always be in bed, lights in the house dark, so I would be unable to get in the bathroom.  Mary had been adamant about staying out of the house if the lights were off–and I did not want to see or hear my long-time friends, employer, and authority figures getting symbiotic, so to speak.  Unfortunately, this meant I would have to use the old-fashioned bathroom at UNR to floss and brush my teeth, pee and otherwise get ready for bed. . .  An hour away from my place.

One night I came back to the Cabin-Mansion (dark inside as usual) got my pajamas on, and sat at my lap-top to get some homework finished, when I heard a knock at the door of my dated fifth wheel.  Surprisingly, it was Kim and she seemedirritable.  I was confused why she was at my superannuated door instead of in bed with Mary, and immediately asked, “Where’s Mary?”  I can’t remember her exact words, but it was something to the effect of “Getting her ‘hair cut'” punctuated my air quotes and in a peevish tone of voice.  Then she fallaciously added, “For the last three hours.”  I thought it could be plausible–Mary often got her hair washed, cut, and highlighted and that could take a while.  When I mentioned this deceptively attractive excuse, Kim said Mary wasn’t due for a dye yet–this was just supposed to be a cut.  Then  I understood why Kim was so puling–Mary was with “THE hairdresser” past their (Kim and Mary’s) bed-time.  I didn’t suspect foul-play at that point, and assumed Mary had just had a tangential route home, or was engaging in legitimate business, or could be speciously chatting with one of her “fans” in town.

Kim asked if I wanted to come out in the yard and have a glass of vintage red wine and chat–she tried to sound casual.  The evident worry and wine were mutually helpful in getting Kim to open up to me–which happened only rarely.  Over the wine Kim told me of past transgressions where Mary left Dayton Valley Days (I think that was the occasion) with the hairdresser to spuriously “check on the vet hospital.”  Mary had always credited herself with being more perspicacious than anyone else, so I guess that is why she was so blatant.  The excuse seemed sophistic when they were gone for hours, and Kim imagined they were having a  rendezvous.  I suppose Mary underestimated Kim’s astuteness and cheated right under her nose without worry.

I had been appalled when I heard the about the blot on Mary’s seemingly perfect record, because it was the first time (aside from letting the pharmacist-friend kiss her when she was much younger) I had ever heard of Mary’s devious side.  I asked Kim if she had confronted Mary about the incident and she said, “You know Mary” meaning we all knew she would be unapproachable about it and would be indirect if pressed for details.  Mary was also very keen-witted and could probably concoct a plausible reason for the time-consuming visit to the hospital.  It was Mary’s job to be sagacious at work–she could easily think on her feet.

Kim seemed more helpless in the situation than depressed and sniveling–I could tell she felt stuck.  I secretly thought maybe Kim was querulous and paranoid for nothing–certainly Mary would never stray from Kim, they had always seemed the perfect couple to me.  At that time, there was no hard-proof to stain my high opinions of Mary.  Aside from that, even if Mary WAS cheated (which I doubted) she would be much too shrewd to leave hard-evidence.  As a matter of fact, Kim and Mary’s association was so close they had been known to exclude everyone else.  As we were drinking, Kim’s whining disappeared and she appeared to be gearing up for a confrontation.  We heard the car and saw the variegated colors of the yard illuminated by Mary’s headlights just before ten (an hour past the regular bed time).  Kim dumped the remainder of her wine on the lawn and told me to hide my glass to avoid bringing up bygone fights between her and Mary about the drinking.  Even without evidence, I was willing to bet Mary was intellegent enough to figure out some drinking had more than likely taken place.  I simply remained at the table, politely observing–this was not the first time I had hung out with Kim and/or Mary and I didn’t really think anything serious would happen.  I also did not feel intrusive, because one I lived there, two, Kim had invited me outside, and three, I had supreme confidence it was just a silly misunderstanding that would be sorted out quickly.

When Mary came around the corner, stepping into the yard, I saw her looking nervous and oblique, something I had never observed from her in all the seven years I had known her professionally and personally.  Mary, always tastefully dressed was wearing her normal type of clothes:  khaki pants, some sort of blouse or button-down, and probably a vest-jacket or something like that.  She was also chewing gum–something I had never seen my proper boss do before.  When Mary saw Kim and me sitting in the yard she visibly started and glanced around nervously, eager to deflect the inevitable questioning.  Her body language alone was enough to besmirch the perfect standing she had achieved in my mind.  I thought she would address me, usually being socially correct but my boss and friend ignored me almost completely.  She said, “I didn’t expect to see anyone” or something to that effect, spuriously because she was surprised, not because she felt guilty.  It made me feel awkward to view my boss this way and I suddenly felt inappropriate (andmeddlesome) for taking in this highly personal spectacle between a married couple–but it was too late, I couldn’t just get up and go inside at that point.

When Kim asked where Mary had been for so long, Mary twitched nervously and evaded the question by saying, “Getting my hair cut.”  The plain hair was an instant tip-off and opprobrium to the truth of Mary’s excuse.  That moment was the turning point that tarnished her image for me.  Since the hair looked no different then it had that morning, Kim looked doubtful about the illusory story and asked what had been done to the hair.  Mary’s eyes flickered over the yard, to the door, to Kim’s face, then mine, and she looked especially displeased that I was witnessing this stigma.  I was definitely unwanted at that moment–I was stick and rivited to the scene unfolding though.  Looking wholly uncomfortable, eyes darting about as if to find some route of escape, Mary repelled the question with, (and this is a direct quote), “I got my bangs trimmed.”  Other than that Mary chose not to embellish the preposterous story further.  Immediately and entirely, my boss and mentor’s former image was defiled.

She recovered somewhat and attempted to ward-off Kim’s accusing stare and tried to stride quickly inside prehistoric-style Cabin-Mansion.  Except Kim placed herself between Mary and the door, feeling no cooperativeness or sorrow for her wife’s unease.  Kim was cloying, but it was obvious she was on the offensive when she said, “Come closer and let me get a look at your new hair.”  I could see Mary stiffen, all interdependence between her and Kim vanished for the moment, as Kim went to touch Mary’s unchanged hair.  I assume, Mary didn’t want Kim to see details of the hair, because it would disprove Mary’s misleading tale and (in Mary’s mind) sully Kim’s image of her as a faithful and loyal wife.  It was no secret that all three of us knew that Mary’s story was tainted with deception.  With brusque motion, Mary all but ran inside the kitchen door, too taken aback to even offer me a courteous hello or any acknowledgement.  My being there had been officious to her, now she wanted me to leave more than she had before.

I could no longer place so much respect in my boss, and rationalize Kim’s worry was just a spoof, after I had seen Mary’s nervousness for myself.  She would not be garnering any more admiration from me either.  Kim gave herself a quick pep talk to amass confidence and to be tough, and got ready to battle Mary’s evasive answers inside the Cabin-Mansion.  She told me not to blemish her upper-hand by bringing the wine glass inside or handing it to her–she said to take it in my fifth wheel and bring it inside the Cabin-Mansion later.  With that she followed Mary into their superseded-looking house.

I was shocked how Mary’s attitude had varied from everything I previously knew and expected out of her–she had been fully discredited in my mind.  My opinions of Mary were now slanted.  This was not my responsible employer, decorousfriend, or loyal wife I had known the first time I had worked for (and hung around) Mary.  I also couldn’t believe my normally quick on her feet, intelligent boss had given such a spuriousmisleading story either–obviously there was elaborationmissing from that explanation.  Without realizing it, I had acquired a quiet contempt for one of my (former) heroes.