[Critique Group 1] February 2018 submission for critique

[DQ Noriega]

1,540 words

Chapter 10.

Big Girls Do Cry And Other Lessons Tammy Taught Me

 

When I was a year old, my father was shipped off to fight in the Korean War.
He returned when I was three.  I had spent the time in the midst of my
mother's people surrounded with love and attention.  My great grandfather
taught me to read.  My numerous aunts, uncles and extended family helped me
to be a confident curious toddler.   While involved in the conflict, my
father suffered a serious head injury.  It caused him to suffer severe
headaches and left him with a violent temper.  The next five years were
difficult.  We never knew what might send him into a rage.  I felt a great
responsibility for my younger brothers.  I sometimes took the blame and the
punishment for things I hadn't done to protect them.  A spanking tended to
escalate into child abuse.  My father didn't feel I was sufficiently
chastised unless I cried and I was strong willed.  If I didn't believe I
deserved punishment, I wouldn't cry and the spanking turned into a beating
until I lost consciousness.

 

My parents divorced when I was nine.  I grew up fearing violent people and
loud voiced confrontations.  Although Tammy showed time and again that she
wouldn't allow anyone to hurt me, she was really quite gentle, even timid in
her own defense.  When a large loose shepherd dog launched an attack on her
as we walked across campus, she rolled over on her back in submission.  Two
boys moving along the same path rushed forward and drove the dog back
hitting it with their book bags.  The owner of the dog raced up and got her
under control.  Tammy was shaken, but not hurt.  One of our rescuers
admitted that he acted before thinking and surprised himself.  He laughed
nervously explaining he would have been afraid of such a large snarling dog
if he had stopped to consider the risks.  

 

During her working career, Tammy was attacked twice more.  In all three
attacks, she immediately dropped to the ground and rolled over offering her
throat and belly in the classic submission posture.  During the second
attack, I suffered a badly bruised face.   I stepped between a Queensland
Blue Heeler and my prone guide.  The attacker was in the air launching
herself at Tammy and her teeth ricocheted off my cheek.  In all three
attacks, the owner of the attacking dog was close at hand and able to catch
and subdue his dog.  It felt natural for me to try to defend my guide.  I
had never feared animals and somehow it seemed only fair to intervene in
protection of my best friend.  She certainly felt the same way when it came
to my safety.

 

Over the years we worked together, I gained in confidence and learned to
stand my ground when refused service at a restaurant or when people objected
to her presence.  Even in the face of hostility or rudeness, I overcame
timidity and learned to speak up for my dog and myself.  By the time I was
working with my fourth dog, I was able to grab a pit bull by her collar and
tail and haul her away from the small black lab I was currently working.  I
twisted the pit bull's tail until she released my guide's throat and held
her until her owner arrived.  I am only five foot three, but love gave me
courage enough to deal with what I needed to do in defense of my dog.

 

As a small child, I vowed never to let the world make me cry.  When other
children hurt my feelings, snatched my lunch and held it out of my reach or
excluded me from their games, I retreated into books or found something else
to do.  I knew if they succeeded in making me cry, then things just
escalated into more teasing and cruelty.  Until the night I cried into
Tammy's coat after fighting with Sandy, I hadn't cried over anything that
others said or did to me in years.  

 

When I got lost at public elementary school, I pretended I was Hipolyta,
queen of the Amazons in enemy territory.  I stood still and gathered as much
information as I could about my surroundings.  I listened for traffic
sounds, the clank of the lanyard on the flagpole or anything that gave me a
clue as to my location.  I started to search around my environment with my
feet hands and entire body.  Eventually I found something to help me regain
a sense of orientation.  Sun, wind, scent, shade were all useful clues.
When people frightened me or hurt my feelings, I pictured myself as a
turtle.  I projected my shiny brightly colored shell and hid my emotions
behind a smile, a joke or a laugh.  There was no fooling my Tammy.  She saw
right through my armor to the true state of my hidden heart.

 

Tammy greeted each day with joyful enthusiasm.  She taught me to do the
same.  Yesterday's sorrows are past and we can only deal with what is going
on at this moment.  Of course that doesn't mean you don't think of how to
make tomorrow better. But it is a waste of energy to trap oneself in a
tangle of what ifs.  Much of who I am today, I owe to the lessons I learned
from my loving free spirited Tammy.  Because she was always there for me, I
could admit my sadness. I could allow others to see the vulnerability I had
spent years hiding.  I learned to let go and cry without having the sorrow
tear me apart. Her lovely broad head with its silky ears in my lap gave me
permission to grieve. Her presence at my left side gave me the courage to
pick myself up and move on after the tears dried. You never feel quite so
lost if you have a friend beside you to share the task of finding your way
out of a problem.  

 

  I let Annie talk me into attending a party for some of the students in a
three dimensional art course we were taking together.  Wine was served and I
smelled that distinctive sweet aroma of Marijuana.  I knew this was just not
my sort of party.  I liked having friends in for spaghetti and homemade
bread accompanied by soft music and good conversation.  I didn't mind if
others indulged in a glass of wine, but didn't like being surrounded by
crowds of people I hardly knew.  

 

One of my classmates cornered me and suggested I spend the night at his
place.  I just shook my head and gave a gentle tug on Tammy's leash.  I
didn't need to wait for Annie to get out of a situation I found
uncomfortable.  Henry tried to imply my refusal was because he was black.  I
am sure that line worked with some young women, but knowing I could walk out
of there gave me the confidence to just laugh at the absurdity of his
assumption. I replied that being totally blind, I couldn't tell if he were
purple with green stripes.  I still wouldn't go home with someone I barely
knew. I didn't feel pressured into participating in the sexual revolution
brought about by the advent of the birth control pill and could choose to be
myself without apologies. I was free to call a cab or walk out the door
because Tammy was with me.  It's hard to quantify the influence of such a
source of strength and reassurance in the life of a blind person.  Young
women who grew up in the late sixties found it hard to figure out the rules.
As little girls, we were taught to be ladylike.  Tomboys like me were
constantly being scolded to keep our skirts down and behave like little
ladies.  Suddenly with the availability of the birth control pill, we were
expected to forget all that princess stuff.  We were declared hung up if we
didn't join in to the free love movement.  Virginity was almost a stigma.
One friend told me she felt like the last living virgin at school.  She went
home with someone because she was tired of being teased by her housemates.
Another friend spent an entire afternoon going through her address book to
let several young men know she had been diagnosed with a venereal disease.
Somehow, it seemed wrong to this particular princess to engage in sexual
intercourse to prove she was well adjusted.  Such an intimate act required
some kind of commitment in my estimation.  

 

    With Tammy in my corner, I had the courage to stand by my own values.
In the shelter of her love and total acceptance, I could cry, laugh, and
discover who I was and what I wanted out of life.  I could set goals and
achieve them.  A dog guide is a mobility aid yes, but she can also be a
confessor, a guardian angel, a soul mate and a best friend.  Tammy was all
of these and more to this young girl growing into womanhood in the Vietnam
war era. To put a price tag on all she gave me in our time together is
impossible.    

 

 

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