by Author Name Withheld 114

Created on: December 09, 2006   Last Updated: April 23, 2007

In my experience family is not necessarily defined as 'blood relatives' because my blood relatives are few and far between. You see my mother died when I was 5 years old and my father when I was 13. Between the ages of 5 and 13 we, my 2 sisters and brother and I, mostly raised ourselves. We live in a very small rural southern town, and were known to all as 'them little Manley kids'. To this day I still run into older people that knew us way back then and still will ask 'aren't you one of them little Manley kids'?

Our childhood wasn't much of a childhood. The memories aren't warm and fuzzy at all. My father had a stroke before mama died and was paralyzed on his right side. He walked with a limp but had no use of his right arm. He was already in his 40's when the babies started coming along, and after mama died spent much of his time at the local bars. He was a ladies man, as much as he could be that is. He was handsome and could sweet talk with the best of them.
At 8 years old I took my first full time summer job babysitting for the neighbor that lived across the street. I can't imagine how but someone she managed to trust me to keep a 6 week old baby and a 5 year old boy 5 days a week, 8 hours a day.
Somehow I managed to keep them both alive and well. I guess it was because I was eight going on 28 at the time. Sometimes I feel younger now at 50 than I did then.
By the time daddy died we had all spent a year in foster care, then were returned to him with the stipulation that we traveled across country to live with his sister. This because 2 of my siblings didn't really find school a very worthwhile use of their time and found better ways to spend most of their days. Myself and my oldest sister both for some reason always thought you had to obey the rules and we always went to school.
Just before my father's death we returned to our hometown. I believe he somehow knew he was going to die. Anyway upon returning we lived for a short time with the neighbor I had babysat for and then moved into a project house. After a few short weeks daddy died sitting in a chair on the porch int he warm summer air just days before my 13th birthday. I'll never forget walking out there and seeing him sitting there. He had the most wonderful smile on his face, I always thought he must have see something wonderful at the end.
The neighbor and her husband became our guardians and I grew to love them as if there were my real parents. For a long time I blaimed my father for my lousy childhood, the money he squandered in the bars on beer and women could have bought school clothes, lunches or shoes. He could have done better! Finally, after having my own children I just had to give it up. He did the best he could do. Maybe it wasn't good enough, but he did at least try to keep us together.
So now I am part of a much bigger family. The couple we went to live with were only in their later 20's when they took us in and already had 2 children of their own. They had 2 more children of their own and we grew to a family of 10. I held them in such high regard I can still remember when I realized that she was human and not somekind of angel. I can't remember the remark she made but it was something I had never head her say before and a rush of realization came over me that she was just like me.
Anyway, from my life experiences I have found that family, no matter how or where you find it, is special and rock solid. Something to be treasured and enjoyed.
So in this Christmas season, everyone should draw close to their 'family' and treasure every moment!

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