My Dear Cousin - Remodeling

 

27th May 2021

My Dear Cousin,

In my last letter I mentioned that (Pickle) had elected to remodel the bathrooms. This was likely because I had the money from an inheritance, and he wanted to spend it for me. Anyway, the house was a wreck and I was still too depressed to really get much cleaning done.

I mean, I was still not speaking with (Yule) or (Pony Girl) and she had gotten now more than eighty thousand dollars from the old man in support. My life was a ruin, and I was trying to get as much of it back together as I could.

One of the problems with people who have suffered the abuse that I have is that they tend to have trouble trusting others and letting them into their lives. Me, I’m alone for that reason, and so my broken soul left me depressed and hard to live with.

We hired a contractor and elected to remodel both bathrooms and replace the old galvanized pipes with new copper ones bringing them to modern standard and preventing the rust of galvanized pipes from getting in the new fittings.

This was when I insisted that (Pickle) use the money (Yule) promised me for college to repair the house. He had a check book with his name and the old man’s on it. He had access to the money that had now been promised me twice. I figured it was only fair.

After all, this man had beaten me as a youth, abused me verbally as an adult, and now I was forced to look after him. That could be another reason why the family was always so unsupportive. They wanted me to spend my life looking after their problem.

Anyway, (Pickle) first tried to pay with his own money rather than speaking to the old man about it. Then he decided against that and called (Pony Girl). It did turn out the contractor was crooked but the family felt that I should have paid ‘my share’ even as they had short changed me. (Pony Girl) put a stop order on the whole thing and even adult protective services were called.

It led to a real rift between (Pickle) and I. It didn’t help that the contractor was crooked and used parts that didn’t last, old materials, and the cheapest crap that he could find. It really was a mess.

(Pickle) never forgave me for expecting him to use the money I was promised. He knew it was mine and he didn’t object at first but only made a stink about it later. You tell me, was I in the wrong?

Best,


Richard Leland Neal

My Dear Cousin - A Poor Gift

20^th May 2021

 My Dear Cousin,

 

After (Yule) sold that car the family expected me to give up my third of a paid off home for the family offered me three gifts that were of no interest to me. This was not all at once but over a bit of time, perhaps a year or two, but I would accept none of them. I had learned what happens when I accept things from my family.

 

The first was a check from the old man for two hundred dollars. I was out of work when this happened. I was out of work, because the ordeal with the car had left me so depressed I could hardly get out of bed. What I honestly needed to do was contact the company I had been working for to be reassigned.

 

The check wouldn’t cover two days of the suffering I was feeling because of how (Yule) had harassed me over that car so I returned it to (Yule). He didn’t really react as far as I could see, but after I handed it back to him I just walked away.

 

My grandmother told me it was my fault, because I had given him the car back. I felt I had no choice, as no matter what I did they wouldn’t stop harassing me about that car. My family here in California tends to be the kind of people who will listen to nothing short of violence, and I didn’t want to get violent.

 

Two hundred dollars wouldn’t have replaced two days of lost work. It wouldn’t have covered the money for college I had been promised. It wouldn’t have even been the money the car that was supposed to have been a gift to me had been sold for. Keeping it would have been a deal with the devil, and them giving that to me as if it was supposed to mean anything was like having them spit in my face.

 

I never spoke to my grandmother again. I believe I spoke to (Yule) one more time. This was the first of the three gifts and it had told me once and for all that family was useless to me.

 

Best,

 

Richard Leland Neal

My Dear Cousin - I Refused to Speak

 19^th May 2021

My Dear Cousin,

 

It has been a few days since my last letter, but you never answered me anyway. Maybe my life is just too dismal to take. Well, I assure you that I need to keep writing regardless of your reading just to bleed the pain from my mind. A bad memory can be like a cyst; bleed it and it may scar, but leave it and it can get worse.

 

Well, a point I forgot was that before the wedding, and after I called the cops on (Pony Girl)’s husband to be I refused to speak to (Pony Girl) for about eight months. I don’t think you can blame me for that, talking had never done me any good so far.

 

(Pony Girl) brought this situation to a head when she started hounding me and calling me childish for not speaking to her. We spoke and that was when I learned that the car they wanted me to give up my house for was sold for four hundred dollars. They expected me to pay two hundred thousand dollars for it, and it was worth four hundred.

 

There were two points of this conversation. The first was that (Pony Girl) was to pay me back for the time I had paid bills for her when she was in college. The second was that she was to disclose the amount of money dad gave her for college.

 

She never fulfilled the second part of that promise. She knew how much it was but laughed out “I don’t remember” when I brought it up. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe I deserved the money, but only that she so loved steeling from me.

 

I remember once I got a sheet of stamps and put them on the old bulletin board next to were the landline used to be in my home. The next day they were gone and I asked (Pony Girl) if she had seen them. She admitted to taking them but wouldn’t give any of them back.

 

I overreacted to this, and was very upset, I should have just let it go. I recall my grandmother saying “maybe she needed stamps”. I explained that this was not all that true, but the old woman refused to believe that her family could ever do anything wrong. The whole family had a ‘turn a blind eye’ attitude to abuse.

 

I remember when I complained that (Yule) had given her and (Pickle) money for college and not me (Pony Girl) laughed out “You’re older now”. I had been in college since the age of eighteen and he didn’t give me money then.

 

It was just like that white car. (Pony Girl) decided that it was her car that I would pay for. When I didn’t like that she decided that I had to get rid of my other car. When I wouldn’t do that she tried to kick me out of my own home.

 

Well, for the second or third time at that point, but you get the idea.

 

Best,

 

 

Richard Leland Neal

 

Yule and his Pickle

14^th October 2014

Dear Cassi,

       

Pickles dropped more than one bomb of words on me yesterday. In addition to telling me that his steeling was revenge he said that he would move out and into a home with his father in at very least a year from now.

       

In my time here I believe I have never come up with a name for the old man so let me call him Yule. ‘Yule Tide’ is the old name for Christmas in the pagan world and so Yule fits a man with a long white beard and fat belly.

       

Pickles and his father Yule are to move to Chino when Yule’s lawsuit against the state finally resolves and he has the money to buy another home. They would then spend the rest of Yule’s life not far from Pony Girl. Pickles would then be servant to his ailing father.

       

As for me, Pickles says I would be left alone. I would be left to live out my life in the decaying home of my mother. The enormity of this lie is such that it looms overhead like a mountain.

       

If it pleases them they’d force me to sell, and I guess that would be the best deal I could get. Regardless, the forces of darkness have gathered and they march on my stronghold. I have time but when I close my eyes and listen I can hear them marching in the darkness.

Three hundred and sixty four days, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

As a Life Continues

 

This is an essay from a summer school class I took when I was seventeen. To the best of my understanding it lasted a total of twenty eight days. Each day we would write an essay and it be graded. On the last day we would submit an essay to be evaluated by and independent body.  If the Essay was not good enough we would not graduate high school. I had to take this because I suffered from a learning disorder that I was in therapy for when my mother passed. The old man was unwilling to keep taking me to this therapy.                                                                  

‎June ‎23, ‎1997

As a Life Continues

 

 

I was born in nineteen seventy nine. I am told that my (Yule) cut the umbilical cord but could not remember it later. My mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer within months of my birth. Due to this I have never been shocked by the progression of the disease. At three years of age I encountered one of the most complicated and common parts of modern life, divorce. My (Yule) has often reflected on my misunderstanding of the situation, "you asked why I did not come home anymore," and he would chuckle about it as if it were funny. I spent the majority of my young life in a pool, it was a small pool but adequate. My (Pony Girl) and (Pickle) were often there with me. (Pony Girl) was always the thinner of the two. (Pickle)  was a pudgy white fat child with a real attitude problem. He was spiteful and hated honor students. It will be my belief for all time that my mother’s death was the end of my childhood. When you stare in to your mother’s cold dead face, you grow up. The truth is you have no choice in that matter; you just can’t go on without a change.

         

One thing that has always been part of my life even when I was very young was school.  You see my mother was a science teacher as well as a pharmacist. She had graduated from a four year university with two diplomas in mildly related fields. As a three year old I was teaching mother's class with her and, of course, listening to many teachers’ discussions. The early exposure probably gave me some kind of an advantage over other children. In North Whittier elementary school I had problems being understood by other children. This may have had something to do with my vocabulary, as it tested to be three years advanced. I was miserable at Catherine Edward's Jr. High, this was due to the activities of PE. For example Stones were hurled at me during athletics and racial slurs were a common part of life. I will never forget the time some fool called me a Nazi. Being a Jew, I easily explained his folly to him but he failed to understand, "you’re a dirty Jew and a Nazi," he said to me. For this reason, I have ever since tried not to explain things to the grotesquely stupid. Finally I went to Pioneer where I had experience in drama, music, and photography. The overall experience of Pioneer has been very wearying physically and mentally.

 

For the future I would like to put forth the skills I have learned in the Theatre. I worked on lighting sets for some time and found it intriguing. It was this that sparked my interest in technical support and organizational tech. Moreover, I have gained skills in the field and even now I would make an excellent grip. What is a grip? Well he is the man that carries heavy equipment for theater and film production. In other words, a grip is a human pack animal that is renowned for his strength and endurance. However if the field for any reason does not fit my lifestyle I plan on adding engineering to my abilities. Electrical workings are already an important part of my life and taking the next step from repairing is designing. Most of electrical engineering is color coated and ultimately very simple to work on. The knowledge I have obtained should make mastering this field no more difficult than any other of my interests. If even that proves poorly matched there will always be related fields or other areas of interest for me to follow. I'm not concerned about finding a suitable occupation.