Survival of the Heart Tragedy of the Mind: My Story of Putting Personal Round Pegs in Human Square Holes.
292
Survival of the Heart Tragedy of the Mind: My Story of Putting Personal Round Pegs in Human Square Holes.
292Paperback
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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781481739238 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 04/09/2013 |
| Pages: | 292 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.66(d) |
Read an Excerpt
SURVIVAL OF THE HEART TRAGEDY OF THE MIND
MY STORY OF PUTTING PERSONAL ROUND PEGS IN HUMAN SQUARE HOLES
By DWIGHT N. WOOD SR.
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2013 Dwight N. Wood Sr.All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4817-3923-8
Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
The unkind words of people are worthless and should be discarded as useless dialogue.
My initial vision of home was a paltry, one-story wooden frame dwelling. A long, winding dirt road led from the elevated front door and disappeared into a stand of woods off in the distance. Smoke was escaping from a chimney located at the top of the tin roof. The sky was beautiful with a wintry white backdrop to my residence. Snow covered most of the ground, which girded the house. The site of the rising sun and the chill from the earth beneath my feet signaled the beginning of a new day. A higher slice of the front yard was detailed with a small stream of chilly water that spiraled around a diminutive barn. A tractor, plow, and a wheelbarrow were lined up from biggest too smallest. A second dirt path led to a larger grouping of tall timbers in the horizon. Each morning, they seemed to take legs and climb down the mountain, and then they retraced their steps in the evening. A third wooden cubicle lay between my home and the barn. Later, I learned it was called an outhouse. This open-air toilet emitted foul odors and attracted wild animals. The land between the endless forest and the place where I lived was my playground and my birthplace. The sounds of children's amusing activities between me, my older brother, and my sister were reserved for late evenings. Their words were thoughtful and encouraging. Many times my brother was entrusted with my outside care, while my sister aided with the household chores. As the days of the calendar changed and I first visited my dad's location of labor, I would realize that an unseen, able-bodied working man was the creator of the melody I heard each day the sun shined. He was my father. The sight of his smile, which stretched across his face, were always moments of happiness for me, although his facial expressions never changed while he toiled in the fields. I only saw my father at rest seated at the breakfast table on Sunday mornings. I was never sure if he knew the day of the week. What wasn't confusing was breakfast seven days a week. The first morning strides of this farm boy directed me toward buttermilk, biscuits, red eye gravy, freshly churned butter, a piece of ham, and scrambled eggs. The smell of food combined with the crackling wood in the stove woke me up from my daily sleep. As I began my movement from bed to the chair, I was always careful of that stove. This oven served the dual purposes of heating the house and serving as the focal point of our daily meals. This heater and cooker were in the center of the house. It was the axis between the kitchen, two bedrooms, and a corner of the house with a bunk bed. My brother had the top bunk, and I had the bottom. My mother always reminded us of good manners and to eat all the food placed on the table. Once the morning meal was consumed and the formalities of breakfast ended, then the darkness of inside became the light outside. My parents instructed me to enjoy the excitement of youth because the responsibility of helping my father would come in the near future. Because of my age, I was confined most of the time to the supervision of parents or siblings. Quickly, the seasons changed. As an older child, I began to learn the skills of an itinerant farmer's son. Following the knowledge gained as a farmhand had to be applied if he was going to master the balance of physical labor during daylight hours with the diversion of amusing play at twilight. As I matured and aged, my recreation time decreased, and my workload increased. As these events altered my day, I moved into the state of family responsibility. Then without notice, I began a three-year journey that led me to the meaning of a loving household, the importance of good health, and the mystery of a change in my heart.
The chocolate cake and peach ice cream served to me for my birthday in January was now a memory. I associated pairs of new white socks and hand-me-down shoes with the tenth of that month. Those socks became used and the shoes worn out as the brown earth turned to new green meadows. When the snow melted on the white ground, new colors appeared everywhere. The blueness of the water in the stream was one color associated with a rainbow of colorful flowers that surrounded the two dirt roads. The skies of winter turned into a clear heaven linked with flying birds and towering white clouds. The tractor, plow, and wheelbarrow went from being idle too never resting. The mountains, which were once distant, were now within a fifteen-minute walk. These new alterations in my vision were a combination of maturing eyes and a developing mind. The routine of helping my mother in the house now became the regiment of assisting my father in the fields. Each morning, my older brother and I left the house after breakfast, which put into motion the quest to find our father in the fields. After a while, this became a simple task by following the road and listening to the music in the mountain air. Once he was in eyesight, this chain of events was repeated. He took off his hat, whipped his brow, adjusted his overalls, winked, and then ended this repetition with his great smile. His first statement was a question to his boys, "Did you have enough to eat at breakfast?"
We answered, "Yes, sir!"
"Okay, boys, we have a lot to do today." Being two years younger than my brother limited my dad's work expectations of me. Usually, he told me to look and listen. On this day, he was beginning to clear land for a new crop. I watched him hitch the plow to the back of a mule. Then without warning, he yelled at the animal. Without a moment to spare, the mule, plow, and my father began to move in unison. The earth started to equally part as man, animal, and tiller moved ahead from their resting position. Over and over again, they marched through the fields. Each time a new path was dug from the blade located beneath the handles of the plow. The force of the moving mule and the strength of my father were sustained for hours on end. Slowly and surely, I started to see the long rows, each with two mounds of raised dirt and a hollowed middle. My brother sometimes went to the front of the mule, and with a strap fastened to the mule's head, he would pull the animal forward. Other times my brother was moving stones that were unearthed by the plow. Assisting my brother with clearing the rocks was my very first farm chore. The position of the sun at the top of the sky marked the halfway point of the day. This event along with the mule being removed from the plow shouted, "Lunchtime!" to me. The walk to the house for lunch was the picture of my brother and me flanking my father and the mule being escorted in the rear. One of my dad's strong arms rested on my shoulder, and it seemed to remove some soreness in my body. I often wondered if my head would ever reach his waistline. The conversations with my father were short, which allowed me to detour to thoughts of food. As we entered the farm yard, we went in three different directions. My father went into the house. My brother fed and watered the mule, and I raced to the privacy of the latrine. When I entered the house, my brother soon followed. Our appetites would only be satisfied by reaching the table. Then the predictable motherly remark was spoken, "Boys, clean those hands and wash your face." This was wasted time to me, but it was a prerequisite to eating. My sister delivered the food to the table. My mother finished pouring milk into glasses placed on this circular piece of furniture that my father had designed. My father, my brother, and I waited patiently for all tasks to be completed and all the members of the family to be seated. Then my dad uttered the words giving thanks for the food we were about to eat. The prayer was one of two we heard on alternating days. Later, I learned that my father was reciting a Baptist prayer and that my mother spoke to God using a Catholic message. It became evident that my parents were from different locations on the globe. My father's clear delivery of his spoken words was in direct conflict with my mother's broken English punctuated with a deep accent. My father was a foot taller than my mother. His hair was short and light brown, while her hair was deep black with many waves. The color tone of his skin was subject to the four seasons, while my mother's complexion hardly varied during the year. I learned to recognize other parental differences between my parents. My father's idea of raising children was simple. Do not try his patience and never challenge his authority. My mother's notion of child rearing was also simple. A raised voice with quick punishment meant I did something wrong. I quickly learned to adapt to their different personalities and human qualities. Being near to her tiny hands plus enjoying a loving proximity to my mother was a demonstration of earned acceptable behavior by this child. Being perfectly quiet and staying in a state of rest while sitting near my father was another example of good conduct by his son. My confusion came when I had to distinguish between the rules of my parents and the vim and vinegar of my youthful independence. Simply, any violation of my parent's code of conduct on my part brought about extremely swift and painfully unpleasant actions by either my mom or dad. My idea of being a child was now crystal clear. Beware the man and fear the woman. It was always better for me to remember the rewards of being an obedient child instead of feeling the punishment of being a misbehaving boy. Between lunch and dinner, the afternoon in the fields was a duplication of the morning. Watch that mule pull, see my father sweat, and observe my brother remove rocks all as I watched the rows of dirt being stirred from the winter's natural period of rest.
The seasons of the year that followed yielded the harvest of tomatoes, watermelons, corn, tobacco, cotton, and every type of bean known to man. These items were sources of food for my family and income to my father. His success as a migratory farmer brought to the kitchen a new electrical device called a refrigerator. The icebox was removed and sold for a few dollars. That money was then used for the purchase of some baby clothes. Yes, this meant our family was going to grow by one. The circumference of my mother's stomach expanded each month. These additional inches of girth were much greater than the inches I grew in height. However, I now was even with my father's waistline. Again, I learned to adapt and change with these new circumstances. My sister's role in the house continued to expand beyond her training. When it became obvious she needed help, I was introduced to an aunt and uncle and their children. Up till that time, I thought our family had only five members. When they arrived at the crack of dawn one morning, I was able to capture a few moments to visit with my new extended family. The next day brought a new aunt with a new uncle and new cousins. The following day brought another new aunt with another new uncle and another set of new cousins. At dinner that night, my father explained that I had met two of his sisters and one of his brothers. I finally understood two aunts and one uncle equaled one additional aunt and two additional uncles. Their children were my cousins. I felt smarter the next morning. Then I met another aunt, another uncle, and more cousins. This trend continued for another three days. Now I had even more knowledge of my father's extended family. The number seven was for the days of the week and it was for the number of brothers and sisters of my father. The equation of seven times three completed my math instruction. I had twenty-one cousins in total. All of these unknown relatives came from beyond the tallest tree and highest mountain. An automobile arrived at sunrise, and the car departed at sundown. Each was different in color and shape. Each passenger had a specific place in the front or backseat. Each person shared in the daily chores of the farm. If you were my dad's brother or brother-in law, then you went to the fields with him. If you were my dad's sister or sister-in-law, then you attended to my mother. If you were a male cousin, then you walked to the fields after breakfast with my brother and me. If you were a female cousin, then my sister enlisted their help in the house. When the midday and evening meals were served, I lost my position at the table to an adult. Eating outside was an opportunity for me to eat quickly and then pal around with my new playmates. For almost two more weeks, I saw the lights of a car come down that dirt road each morning. It was on my father's day of rest, specifically an early Sunday morning, that I heard a scream coming from my parents' bedroom. My father immediately sent all of the children out the door. His voice indicated concern for my mother. As we exited the house, I saw a familiar car enter the front yard. It belonged to my father's youngest brother. Call it well-timed luck, blind fate, or good fortune, but my mother and father entered my uncle's car and quickly drove off. One of my aunts, the one who had beautiful red hair, was now in charge. She directed my sister to begin making breakfast. Without question or hesitation, she went to the kitchen. My aunt realized I was scared. My actions demonstrated I did not comprehend the chain of events from the first yelp of my mother to the disappearance of my parents. Her words to me began the instant I lost sight of the car. They were very kind but not helpful. My tears were unstoppable until I was back inside my house. It was my brother who was finally able to interrupt the panic in my mind and reduce the pounding in my heart. He just started to reason with me. He explained that he had felt the same way the day I was born and that my sister had felt the same way when he was born. He promised I would feel better once I knew if I had a new brother or a new sister. I trusted my brother and viewed him with unquestionable love. Finally, my anxiety turned to calmness. Breakfast was always a special time for me. Maybe it was due to a large appetite. Maybe I preferred eggs to vegetables. Maybe it was the most peaceful part of the day, or maybe it was the excitement of helping my father each morning. Whatever the reasons I had for relishing a morning meal, my enjoyment was soon replaced with thoughts of my mother in distress. I heard my aunt's voice again. Now she said, "Please play outside until lunch." My brother and I found her comments strange since we were accustomed to working in the fields in the mornings. However, we followed her instructions and played in the yard. Later, we left to complete our daily chores around the farm house. But the chance to turn a weekday into a Sunday seemed like the right thing to do. That morning provided me the opportunity to a put a name to each face I called a cousin. This group of cousins consisted of a girl and her two brothers. Their ages were almost identical to my sister, brother, and mine. In fact, they were ranked as oldest child being a girl, then an older brother and younger brother. I thought it was nice that my sister had a female cousin and that my brother and I each had a male cousin to play with. The morning began to drift to the afternoon. Lunch was about to be served when my uncle drove up in his car. He pulled his wife aside for a moment, whispered something in her ear, and then sat down in my father's chair. I waited for a response, some reply that would communicate the condition of my mother. This drama finally came to its conclusion when he smiled just like my father and said, "Your mom is fine. Your dad is staying at the hospital with her. I will leave soon, but return for dinner. Maybe you will have a new brother or sister by tonight." I wanted to shed tears. The serene feelings in my head were being replaced with foolish thinking. My brother came to my rescue again. I was unable to provide words this time. His actions were identical to my father's actions. He gave me a wink, smiled, and put his arm on my shoulder. Instantly, I turned my attention to the growls coming from my stomach. I wanted to eat rapidly so that I could return to my outside actions of running and horseplay and forget the fears in my mind. My uncle cranked the car and then rolled down his window. The motion of his arm and hand meant he wanted to see me. He looked a lot like my father, not as tall but with the same size muscles. I waited for his words. Instead, a smile and a pat on my head were his answers. All was good. The sun was beginning to fall behind a westerly mountain, and I was growing weary of the same games. Playing in a limited area was as hard as working in the fields. The smell of food was in the air and suggested dinner to a hungry boy. Maybe I would soon know about my supposed brother or sister. It was very strange not seeing my father and not hearing my mother. In one synchronized moment, the light of the day became the dark of night. A bare table was transformed into an array of dishes and utensils. The shouts of children under darkening skies were replaced with well-mannered youngsters in a crowded room. Next, the silence of dusk was replaced by the sound of a beeping car horn. I asked myself if there were two men in the car or just one. It was my father and my uncle. I was the first to arrive at his side and the first he told to return to the table. He looked very tired, and his face had not been shaved. My aunt huddled with my father and her husband. I could only stare at them and strain my ears for information. After a few seconds, which seemed like long minutes, my aunt hugged my dad, and the two brothers shook hands. With a quick turn, he said the words that were twelve hours in coming, "Children, you have a new brother."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from SURVIVAL OF THE HEART TRAGEDY OF THE MIND by DWIGHT N. WOOD SR.. Copyright © 2013 by Dwight N. Wood Sr.. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Preface At birth, we encounter the first breath that gives us life........ xi
Chapter 1 The unkind words of people are worthless and should be
discarded as useless dialogue.................... 1
Chapter 2 The end of this plot is doomed for disaster.................... 11
Chapter 3 This is the best medicine anyone could prescribe................ 25
Chapter 4 The game of love she attempted to play reached a checkmate...... 32
Chapter 5 Today's rescue would direct my mother toward tomorrow's
happiness.................... 44
Chapter 6 This day of mixed emotions ended at the grave site of my
grandmother.................... 52
Chapter 7 Two very important statements, each with different results,
happened on the same day.................... 67
Chapter 8 My father wanted a man, and my mother wanted a boy.............. 83
Chapter 9 When does ten plus ten not add up to twenty?.................... 94
Chapter 10 My faith in God, my trust in doctors, and my love of family
guided me to an improbable second chance for life in the here and now...... 104
Chapter 11 The unpredictable events of the day provided me the most
incredible conclusions.................... 115
Chapter 12 The sudden and excruciating pain I was experiencing resulted
in earsplitting shouts of terrible human agony.................... 132
Chapter 13 I clearly understood my error in judgment, but generally, I
still did not trust people.................... 145
Chapter 14 The mental barrier in my mind I constructed since childhood
was there to prevent people from understanding me.................... 161
Chapter 15 It was sinister. It was evil, and it was not treatable......... 187
Chapter 16 My country was in fluid chaos combined with daily political
mood swings.................... 203
Chapter 17 I looked into the rearview mirror of my past, and I began to
drive myself forward, looking for new avenues to the future................ 219
Chapter 18 I was a terrible actor portraying a person requiring pity...... 230
Chapter 19 My two grandsons, the two great messengers of extended love
between parents and grandparents, were giving new meanings to our lives.... 244
Chapter 20 I tried to reignite the flickering emotional flame in my heart
while the candle of passionate light in my mind was fading fast............ 258
Epilogue Each day still stands out as a daily reminder to me of the value
and worth of human life.................... 268