its pretty incredible how much complete strangers can not only help with insight and validation - but simply with encouragement. The other night when things were over the top i posted the initial plea in a few different forums and this one has really paid off! I would just like to thank everyone who has shared their thoughts - each one has added to my ability to see this as clearly as possible given the circumstances. It is true, my sister has directed the temper and direction this family was going to take and my father has allowed it and enabled it at every point. Mostly out of fear of what she would either do to herself or her kids,as she has threatened some pretty heavy things about how, where and with whom she would turn to if not granted her demands; one by one over the years she has taken more and more privilege and exacted more abuse with every generation. They all were the result of, what i believe to be her supplementing both income and human relationships via children and child support. She never wanted the man and actually went to great attempts to keep them all at a distance(beyond the incoming checks) All in all it is dysfunction junction at its best. While i initially had great relationship with the boys- kind of diffusing all the craziness - and just being good ole Uncle Mike - it has taken a slow turn for the worse every time i had to be the disciplinarian in the absence of any other willing authority - then their puberty and independence really ignited a whole new powder keg - given the evolution of circumstances and their total and absolute disregard for any authority let alone male authority. Now, im really just trying to hang in there for my mom because everyone else seems to pick at her the most, my dad gets it too but he sides with them more than not out of the aforementioned fear and a strange opposition to dealing with them or taking a stand on what is right...He is definitely the enabler even though he resents it as much as anyone. He too can be a very abusive man(emotionally) but not to them. they have witnessed him emotionally abuse my mom just as i have - He really never messed with my sister but i have always gotten both barrels. I left when i was 19 and only just returned recently to witness the entire family peck at her like wolves. Being that my dad is older and sickly he has lightened up a bit and now its all backfiring on him as well as the rest of us thru her and her childrens rage. Its pretty obvious after knowing what i know and reading the follow up posts that this is the work of many years of pain in this house. Strange but in all of the craziness there is still a hint of love - but its a desperate sort with little patience and a lot of animosity for the truth. I am public enemy number one because i not only try to enforce a little decency but i also speak truths that threaten every ones daily routine regarding the disrespect and unnecessary rudeness. I have kept myself away and have grown up with a very happy and stable life until i lost the love of my life to a PHD at CALTECH (her not me)I was all that was left of a truly perfect and beautiful 10 year relationship that lost out to science and the pursuit of excellence in genetics - there was no room for me when it came to juggling intense labwork at a highly competitive national institution. So i came home to regroup and help out only to find a very messed up group of people all screaming at each other. It is out of control and I am very close to throwing in the towel. Even though i am not one to give up easily...i am slowly wearing thin. No one wants to listen or talk except my mom and i really do speak from the heart with love and insight and knowledge. I keep threatening to write a book about this as payback if not a simple exercising of my own demons. I am slowly being absorbed by all of this but thanks to being away for so long i have managed to avoid most of the scars that everyone else seems to have grown. Its catching up though. Unfortunately. I wish i could say that i believe that i can help but im afraid that they are all stuck in a routine that will never change. If i could just get my father to stand up to all of it i believe the others would fall in line - but he would rather fail than take any advice from me. he truly resents me even though he needs me. Sometimes its so obvious that the more he needs me the more he resents me. Along with that, I am a threat to all because i do see what is taking place and why and no one wants to hear it at all. I thought i had the skills to rationalize my way thru this and in any other environment i believe they are sufficient - save for this one painful example. This is all the family i have and at the very least - i am not going to leave my mom to the wolves. Anyway, sorry for the ramble - but for those of you who have shared in this thread - i guess im just spelling it all out in the form of a reply - because of the willingness to share feedback...and because there is always more to a story than whats just on the surface. i felt compelled to paint a clearer picture of what is really going on. And i want to thank you all for caring enough to help out a complete stranger. thanks again UncleMike

Hi concerned Mom (and, probably, Dad), It seems to me that one of our major tasks as a parent is to encourage our young ones to develop their independence and help them move toward it ... in incremental steps. World War II (despite U.S. claims/experience to the contrary) began in 1939, when I was 10, and our farmhands went into the forces. Dad at just under 40 had a fairly large farm, for those days, to run ... and my younger brothers and I got introduced to various and multitudinous chores at an early age. I've long felt that if our young folks grew up with an experience of being granted certain responsibilities and privileges, beginning at an early age, and live with the certainty that, as they discharged those responsibilities reasonably capably, would have more granted, we would avoid many of the rebellious activities that occupy the minds and time of many of our youth, these days. I often sat down and discussed with my kids what kind of result(s) they might expect to happen, were they to follow a certain course, or another, or a different one. That is, to help them develop linear, logical, multi-faceted and critical thinking. When we come to a fork in the road, we choose which course to take, then later, though (usually) we can't go back to re-live it ... we can learn from the results that have come from that choice. My daughter spent a year on Rotary student exchange program with a family where the father was civic engineer in Hamburg when she was, I think, a junior in High School. She went with a school group to spend a week camped (tenting?) above Florence, travelled " ... like a little mouse in the back seat ..." with her family on several extended trips, visited North Africa ... and had a ball. She was a sensible, smart kid ... but it matured her a good deal ... and got her interested in travelling and participating in various new ideas that may have been latent before, but had been undeveloped ... and had she not had that opportunity, who knows whether they ever would have been developed? Unless there are some substantial counter-indications that surface, I'd be inclined to let/encourage your daughter to go: it'll quite likely change her life ... bend the sapling in different ways for the tree to grow ... or at least provide her with some memorable experiences. I recommend having your daughter make a significant contribution to her trip: earned stuff is much more highly valued. If the U.S. is to participate fully in world affairs, in a way that will engender more respect on the part of people in other areas, she needs people who have participated in different parts of that world: our world has become much smaller ... a "global village", right? A much better impact will be made if many of her citizens have travelled abroad and come to know the people there and respect not only the people, but their ways, as well. Good wishes to your fairly responsible, smart daughter (according to your testimony) as she proceeds to develop a multi-faceted, interesting, challenging life. And to you, her parents, as you proceed with your own adventures, further down that road of life. Never kill the kid that resides within you (even at advanced age) ... or strangle the kid that you guide (for a short while). And enjoy your kids while they're with you - for they're soon grown and gone. I regret that I could be only a semi-involved/resident father after my kids were 6 and 9. ole joyful

I will try to condense this because I could pontificate for hours on this! My love for gardening came from my father. He was the ultimate green thumb-he didn't have formal training that i know of, but he was a street tree gardener for two of the communities we grew up in, and always had a vegetable garden as a way to supplement our large family's food budget.(Six kids) He was a school music teacher and when summer vacation began he was always found out back tending the garden for pretty much the whole summer. Of all six children I seemed to be the most interested in what he did-and my first memory of my own interest was when he gladly allowed me to plant marigolds around the border of his garden to keep pests away(this was a fairly large plot and now I know why he jumped at my offer to help him!)I was in elementary school at the time. Also eating a tomato whole and sprinkled with salt always brings dad's tomatoes to mind. And asparagus and homemade pickles.... That was my first taste of working in a garden. It wasn't until I was a first-time homeowner that I knew I was going to be a gardener but I chose to go the route of flowers instead of vegetables. The saddest thing, though was that the year before I moved into my new home, my dad developed Alzheimer's disease and everything I needed to ask him for gardening advice about trees and organic gardening was completely gone-he was just a shell of my father-quite sad. Not a day goes by when I'm in my yard and garden that I don't think of Dad and the gift he gave me. I just wanted to share it with him. He passed away two months ago. Just an interesting note; Our family surname has it's origin from Poland and it means 'gardener of an estate' I find that kind of neat. Maybe it's in our bloodline to be gardeners! * Posted by: pkock Zone 6 (My Page) on Tue, May 28, 02 at 2:44 So glad to find this thread - hope it lasts, because it's fun! Honestly, I am not sure what got me hooked. I think it's my tendency to love "scientific" stuff - I never pursued it professionally, but I'll make anything into a science experiment. I got through two pregnancies with that attitude. ;-) My grandma was the gardener in our family. She lived with us, and each year we had to have a veggie garden. My dad wasn't into yard work much, but was "forced" into the labor required, turning over the clay soil with a spade and protesting the entire time. Always basic stuff - tomatoes, peppers, pole beans, but they sure tasted good. We had strawberries for a couple of years, and there was a big apple tree in our yard that grew "cooking" apples. Grandma made lots of pies and applesauce. Then there was Girl Scouts - one year we had a hike with a knowledgeable person who pointed out all the fantastic wild plants along the trail. I absorbed it all like a sponge. This is rare, this is edible, this is a cure for poison ivy, etc. I still remember most of it, teach my daughter, and soon will teach her scout troop too. I was voted "Miss Outdoorswoman" in high school. Isn't that neat? Some things never change. :) --Pam * Posted by: Lucy2 Z7Atlanta (My Page) on Wed, May 29, 02 at 8:23 I love reading these. I remember going to visit my grandparents in Texas every summer. We lived in New Hampshire and would fly down and my grandparents would meet us at the airport. The first thing we would do when we got to Grandma's house was run to her garden. Every year she planted a watermelon JUST FOR US! Oh, how special that was. We would walk into the garden and she would "double check that it was ripe and time to pick it and she would let us watch as she "ever so gently" plucked the watermelon from the garden and we would sit on her front porch all afternoon eating the best watermelon we had ever tasted and spitting seeds as far as we could. Sadly, my Aunt burst my childhood memory bubble (when I was in my 40's but it still hurt!) by telling me that my Grandparents would go to the grocery store the night before we flew in, buy a watermelon and lay it in the garden "just for us", pretending they planted it and grew it all along...I guess I'm in denial because I still tell my children about those fond memories! * Posted by: becki3 z5 IN (My Page) on Tue, Jul 23, 02 at 20:34 Can I still step in here? This is such a wonderful thread, brought back some great memories. But now I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes and a big lump in my throat. One of my first garden memories is of my next-door neighbor when I was very small. She had a gigantic (to me) gooseberry bush that she would make pies for us from, if I would pick the berries. And she also had a thick grape vine that she would sit down with me in the middle of the yard and eat grapes from right off the vine. We always sat on the other side of it so my mom couldn't see us from the window. I don't think she would have minded, but my neighbor made it fun, thinking we were being secretive. She also had about a million plants in her house that she would show me all the time. Thinking back on it now, I realize they were mostly African violets. She was in her late 80's, early 90's, and I thought she was the best neighbor a girl could ever have. (still do) :) Then there was my grandpa. When he was a teen in the service, he had come home to visit his mom just before being shipped overseas. He took ONE little segment from her Christmas cactus, which had been a wedding present 25 years before that, and put it in his wallet. He then drove all the way across the country (took a few days), all the while sitting on this wallet. Just before being shipped out, he stuck this one little smashed, dried up piece of Christmas cactus and stuck it in a little pot of dirt from the ground outside his barracks. I'm not sure what happened to it (where it was, who took care of it) while he was in the war. But I do know that when he died in 1994, that Christmas cactus was not only alive, but very, very, VERY big. He had built a planter for it on wheels so he could move it outside in the summer and back inside for the winter. He also had a ramp leading up to his patio door, which he had to remove to get it through. This "planter" was 5 feet long, 3 feet wide, and 4 feet deep. Filled all the way with soil and thick, long roots. And the plant filled every inch of the top of the soil and hung down to the floor all around. He had to give it a "haircut" every time he moved it in or out so he wouldn't run over it with the wheels. I now have a pretty good size pot of this same plant in my husband's office, where it sits in front of a huge window all year long and blooms from Oct to around May every year. I ask about or stop by to check on this plant about once a week. I'm always terrified I might lose this plant, I feel like somehow I would be losing my grandpa all over again. Or that he might be disappointed in me for letting his precious plant die after having survived 4 generations in our family. But my all-time favorite childhood memories (of any kind) come from my Aunt Julia and Uncle Bill. They had a big farm in Missouri with a couple horses, a coop full of chickens, and about 300 head of dairy and beef cows at any given time. Along with the usual couple of dogs and a barn full of cats. And I remember one time my Aunt sent me out with the horse to get a few apples from the big tree out in the east pasture to make a pie for dinner. She told me to get a sack out of the barn to carry them in. Well, being about 8 or 9 at the time, I had no idea how many apples it took to make a pie. So I took 2 big gunny sacks, and me and Ginger (the horse) set out to find that big tree. Ginger was so patient with me as I stood on her back on the blanket that I rode with (never used a saddle) to pick all the apples that I could reach. I tied these two gunny sacks across her back and filled them up full. (poor horse!) When I got back, I didn't think my Aunt and Uncle would ever stop laughing. Instead of a few apples for a pie, I had just picked enough apples for an entire week of non-stop canning, freezing, and baking everything we could think of that contained apples. Then there were the times that Aunt Julia and I would pack a picnic basket to take out to my Uncle Bill when he was working the fields. We would sit under a big tree and just watch him disking the field, or baling the hay until he noticed us in the distance. Then he would come get me and let me drive the big tractors for a while before we ate. But one of my most vivid and comforting memories is of me and Aunt Julia sitting on the porch swing snapping beans or shelling peas. I can't remember who picked those beans and peas, or what she did with them afterwards. But just sitting there snapping and shelling, not even having to speak, but feeling like the most loved person in the world. I just started to garden seriously for myself last year, and this year I had to have those green beans and peas. And I think of my Aunt Julia and Uncle Bill every time I go out to the garden. I almost started crying when my daughter (5yo) asked me the first time if she could help me shell the peas. She had so much fun with them I didn't even mind the ones that kept flying across the kitchen to land under the cabinets or off in a corner with the dust bunnies. And I can just see my Aunt and Uncle smiling now (more like giggling probably). Right now I think I need to call them (they live in Arizona now) and tell them how much I love and miss them, and maybe thank you for teaching me about all the things I love the most. Then I think I will sit down and start crocheting an afghan for Aunt Julia (she taught me how to do that when I was 6). Luckily I learned to crochet a lot better than I learned how to milk a cow (sorry Uncle Bill)! Thanks for letting me take this stroll! Becki :) * Posted by: Mirri 5 (Finland) (My Page) on Fri, Jul 26, 02 at 3:06 My first attempt to garden vegetables was when I was 9. I loved peas, so I wanted to grow them. My father formed me a lot saying it would be too hard for me, turning the thick soil. Then I sow the peas and watered them for about 2 weeks. Then my first dog - who died of old age a few years back at 13- had a friend over. They were just puppies back then, running and playing. My daddy warned me, but I wanted to let them play on our rather tiny lot. They run over my pea-lot several times, breaking all those tender 15cm pea shoots. Oh, how I cried. Then I took little sticks and tied the shoots back up. Most of them recovered. Then the dogs, Roope and Olga, run the pea shoots down again after a week or so. And I gave up. I quit gardening for about 10 years. I only had a few cacti which I killed and bought new ones. But now I am a horticulturist. Working, ironically, in a greenhouse that produces pea shoots! I think that the wonder of growing, seeing the shoots come up from earth was a positive thing in the end. Even though I didn`t get to harvest the peas. This year I have a tiny pea-lot again, the first time after I was 9. I have harvested some, but my dog keeps steeling the pods before I find them. When I was 17 I found gardening again, in the form of houseplants. I was living in a tiny oneroom flat without balcony. The houseplant hobby lead me into studying horticulture. Now I have a son and 2 dogs. If Pyry wants to be a little gardener, I will build a fence around his lot. * Posted by: prairie_rose southalta (My Page) on Tue, Aug 20, 02 at 23:56 my earliest memories. being sat in the potato patch with a coffee can with some kerosene in the bottom and picking potato bugs and putting them in the can. i think that was the way my mom and grandma kept us out of their hair on wash day ( the old wringer washer, rinse tub, mangler days.) i remember the smell of the compost heap, and i never thought it was nasty. my grandpa and i spent lots of time there, spreading things out, turning it over occasionally. i think i must have got compost in my veins, replaced all the blood, cause i still don't find the compost heap all that nasty. (compost tea, well that is a different story. lol) i remember i hated bringing kids to our house in the fall cause you could smell the crocks of sauerkraut brewing. we lived on the edge of town, and i swear my mom was the only one who canned. but i couldn't wait for it to be ready and eating the stuff till i was sure i would burst. i remember we were the "poor kids" but we ate better than any of my friends, and were healthier than most of my friends. the garden was a way of life, and everyone was expected to pitch in. and when harvest happened, everyone was expected to come home to can. my mom would pick the weekend and as young adults, we all showed up. 5 women in a kitchen!!!!! lots of hard work, but lots of laughs, too. and when it was over we all got our share to take home. now, i am a single mom with two kids, and all those lessons are paying huge dividends. my two are the "poor kids" but they eat better than most of their friends and are healthier than most, too. what i save at the supermarket because of the garden pays the morgage and the extras for the kids. and this year, my daughter is taking an active part in the canning. i just wish my grandma, mom and sisters were here, too. * Posted by: lynne_s z5ny (My Page) on Mon, Sep 9, 02 at 22:23 I remember planting potatoes on my grandfather's farm in the early spring when i was about 4 years old. We weren't just planting a little garden patch...I swear this field must have been at least an acre. I remember the fun we had, laughing and running around in the dirt...getting dirty, but it was ok..we were doing something productive. I remember Grampa explaining the different types...we even planted purple potatoes from Russia. Later in our visit to his farm my brothers and sisters and I helped plant the seeds that would become carrots, corn and beans. I remember trudging through the brambles in search of the elusive blueberry bushes...after a morning of picking berries, we'd stop and have lunch...Grampa would take a fishing line and hook out of his pocket and catch small trout from a nearby stream and we'd roast them on a stick over a fire...just like a hot dog. He amazed me...the man could survive in the wilderness with nothing, and probably live better than most of us do today. lol The outdoors was his church; where he prayed, pondered and planned his life. My grandfather, retired by this time still loved gardening and sold his veggies every summer from his down-sized farm. We spent the entire spring and summer there. Everything we ate and drank came from that farm. I still remember how wonderful everything tasted...the taste of fresh food was foreign to me then. I went back to Grampa's farm many times until he passed...there, I worked hard, enjoyed the freedom of being in the outdoors and learned how important it was to treat our planet with respect, for it is what feeds us. It seems I forgot a lot of his wisdom until quite recently. Now that I'm a Mom of 5 boys, with many mouths to feed as well as many personalities and value systems to help develop, the things he taught me are returning. My husband and I have purchased a home out in the country trying to create an environment for our boys that my Grampa created for us...one of fresh air, sun, fun and respect for all things living...an I'm proud to say, we are well on our way! * Posted by: KCtomato1 z5/6 KC, Mo (My Page) on Sat, Sep 14, 02 at 0:36 My grandfathers both got me started. My first memory is of dark purple tulips and tulips that were taller than I. I recall what a joy it was grandpa let me pick one. Somewhere in the family, someone has a picture of it. I was 2-3. Both gardened but it was my paternal grandfather that let me try everything. He introduced me to raw veggies. I still prefer them over cooked. He would also let me in the berry patch - which is what really got me growing. He made a deal with me - if I picked 2 I could eat one. He'd go in and I would pick 'em clean of course taking the best for myself. We both walked away thinking we got the better deal. My maternal Grandfather taught me more on the "how's" rather than the "whats". He grew to sell and was not keen on kids picking things he could potentially sell. When I was small I would go out to the garden where he was working just to be with him and I'd watch. I would have worked but he wouldn?t let me. He thought I was nuts for wanting to work. He told me there were snakes in the berry patch in an "effort" to keep me out. Most the time he ran me off I was just looking for the snake. Him teaching me things came at a much older age. Im grateful for the time I did spend with them and the gift they passed on. Keith * Posted by: bizmhamama CA z10 (My Page) on Tue, Oct 8, 02 at 15:09 This answers your interest in childhood memories in a roundabout way. My parents and I immigrated to the United States when I was four years old and I never really knew my expanded family. My mother, who grew up on a sugar plantation, cared absolutely nothing for getting her hands dirty. Our back yard was concrete! Her only gardening interest was roses. I became interested in indoor plants as a teenager and then became obsessed with succulents once I moved out of the house & had a patch of dirt of my own. I even wondered what it would take to go back to school for a landscaping degree, and daydreamed about owning a nursery. My maternal grandmother came to America only a few years ago. I was fairly shocked to learn that she loves gardening! She grows guava trees from seed. In her 80s, she still derives incredible enjoyment from simply watching living things grow. I realize now my passion for gardening would have been sparked much earlier in life if geography (& politics!) hadn't intervened.

Hi all thanks for the comments. After reading them I can see I left out some details. I would never just go and get my parents a dog. Although my mom did this to me once! They are ready and have made the decision to get a dog. Mom asked me to start the search, she doesn't have the internet and wanted me to search pet finder which is where I found my three rescues. There are a lot of steps and processes with rescues and I am helping understand how it all works. I am very familiar with breeds and there personality traits and what my parents life style is and what they like, and what their needs are so I can weed out dogs that wouldn't be right. If I find something I think they would be interested I let them know and they check out the profile. There was as I mentioned one attempt but the rescue did not respond the dog has been on the web site for a long time which cast doubt in my mind about this rescue. Mom took it personally feeling judged and this may turn her off the rescue process. Usually in our area small dogs generate a lot of interest and are adopted quickly and are removed from the website. We did go to a local pound but mom made it clear she didn't want to do this again, she feels badly for the animals, getting them excited or upset when we didn't adopt (the right dog wasn't there) She has a big heart for animals and hates to see them suffer. Ultimately the decision to which dog they get will be moms but I really would like it if she would let my Dad have some influence on what breed size they get. Every dog they have had had been mom telling dad where to drive to the breeder and mom picking the dog from the litters. Dad lets mom have what she wants happy wife etc. There is nothing wrong with getting a puppy from the breeder but the last time they did this was not a great experience. Mom called an add in the penny saver and it turned out to be a puppy producing business not a breeder, not a puppy mill but the next thing to it. The first puppy became sick very quickly and died after my parents spent a lot at the vet and invested their hearts in the puppy trying to save it, the " breeder" then gave then a really hard time about honoring the guarantee. I was not able to say or do anything about it. Obviously I would be able to help avoid this if they were to buy a puppy this time but I would prefer to go with a rescue. The dog that needs a home is with seniors they got her as a puppy, she is a calm girl already fixed. I suggested to my parents they could foster this dog. If they decided to give it a try I want them to know if it didn't work we would find a home for her, but at least this way we would have the dog in a safe home and not the pound until the best home could be found. I of course would love it of course if it turned out that mom learned that she would want to keep and have something bigger than a shih Tzu. Of course there are always things I haven't thought about. I need actual peoples experience with different sizes pros cons, and the things that I couldn't possibly know. That's why I come here because yall always give my things to think about, make me think outside my own box its great.