This is the house I lived in in Poughkeepsie, New York, for 13 years. I sold it in 2000 and moved to Florida that year.

This is the house the poem, This Old House, is based on. See previous posting.

THIS OLD HOUSE

Presently I am compiling poems I have written since 2010 into a second poetry book, called, This Old House and Other Memories. My first poetry book was entitled, Passion's Evidence and was composed of poetry I had written in the 1980's through 2009. It was self-illustrated as this one will be with pictures I took with my camera. Here is the poem based on the title, written a few years, ago.


THIS OLD HOUSE

She stoops among decayed roofs of Poughkeepsie.
Seventy-five years old
Paint peels from cedar shakes
Cracks glare from bay windows
Rain drools through warped shingles
We lived there thirteen years
when streets echoed with laughter
Seniors walked poodles
Neighbors waved "Hello"
as Rog and I drove to work.

But now, few roses climb her walls
or grapes peer at passers-by through rusted fence
Dandelions threaten tomatoes ready for sauce
Grass grows too high for mowing.

Thanksgiving you'd bake ham and I, apple pie
Sausage blackened the grill
Tabbies crawled by and I would toss them tidbits
  and ravens, crumbs
They gobbled on snow like turkeys fighting for corn

We once lived here, you and I --
Garlanding walks with flaming bulbs at Christmas
and stuffed our wood stove with oak
Musty smoke curls rings above the city.

We abandoned her--
Florida beckoned
while with us she grew,
glowed with fresh coats of blue,
Leaded panes sparkled
Pansies nodded from garden boxes
Tulips, hyacinths and sun flowers waved
in the intermittent breezes which gusted off the Hudson.

Our neighbor, Mrs. Coppola, smiled as she shook out rugs
She's since died or gone to a home for seniors
We have left, too, for another city, another state.

But this old house stands, proud in her decay.
She waits for someone to claim her,
nail her roof, paint her walls, grow bulbs, again.
Her rooms once slept little ones
No morre
They moved away to have kids of their own

We all have moved.
She waits, haunted by ghosts of yesteryears--
the singing of carols around a piano
the musk of embers filling nostrils
and heat warming drafty rooms now barren.

Summer comes, and with it, hot winds which dry soggy beams
In my mind, I heave windows up and allow rays to enter.
We are here, again, you and I, in our noble haven by the river.

HOW I MADE PEACE WITH MY FAMILY OF ORIGIN

It wasn't until I was able to assist my family with their medical needs and with getting an assistant living for my father to live in was I able to come to peace with the abuse they showered on me while I was a child. This didn't take place until after my husband retired from his job in New York and we moved to Florida in 2000. Noticing the grief my father experienced after the deaths of my mother and my sister in the year 2004 and losing his home in a move to an assisted living created much compassion in me. I felt it must have been very difficult for this former military officer to have to give up his home, lose his wife and youngest daughter to alcoholism and drugs, and then move to a residential living for seniors. Also, my helping my mother after she moved to two nursing homes before she passed away encouraged me to forgive her as well. She had always been an independent woman, taking care of my sister and me while my father served overseas and went to other states for combat training. His tour overseas in Iran lasted for two full years and sometimes she barely had enough monies to pay for our groceries since she depended on him for support checks. I have also forgiven my sister for all the money she stole from my parents' bank accounts to buy drugs, fancy clothes,  and take vacations with. My sister, Marilyn, had struggled paying bills for years while she was married to her husband, Steve, who couldn't hold a job for more than two years. She probably thought she had a right to steal since her husband and her never took a vacation in the 20 years they were married. I say that tongue in cheek, of course, but it's possibly the reason why. Yet I'll never know. The past is the past and can't be changed. We just have to accept things for what they are.

My mother, sister Marilyn and myself (in the red dress) in 1948, the year my sister was born

My parents in 1954

AUTHOR SPEAKS TO RETIRED MILITARY GENTLEMEN

On April 4th, at noon, I will be giving a talk to some retired military gentlemen and local businessmen in the Daytona Beach area regarding my memoir, Interrupted Journeys: A Memoir of an Army Brat. Hopefully, there will be a good turnout then.

BOOK SIGNING ON SATURDAY, MARCH 11

I will be having a book signing for my memoir, Interrupted Journeys: A Memoir of an Army Brat from 11 am to 2 pm at the Renewals Book Shop in New Smyrna Beach, Florida. There will be refreshments served.

AUTHOR GIVING A BOOK SIGNING AT RENEWALS BOOK STORE, WASHINGTON STREET, NEW SMYRNA BEACH, FLORIDA

I am giving a book signing for my book, Interrupted Journeys: A Memoir of an Army Brat, on Saturday, March 11th, from 11 am to 2 pm at the Renewals Book Store in New Smyrna.

BARBARA FIFIELD GIVING TALK TO VETERANS' ASSOCIATION

On Monday, February 27th at 2 pm, the author will be giving a talk regarding her book, Interrupted Journeys: A Memoir of an Army Brat, to the Father Charles Waters Post 1962 of the Catholic War Veterans at the Emory L. Bennett Veterans Nursing Home on Mason Avenue in Daytona Beach. She will discuss memories of her childhood as an army brat in the service and living in Germany, Japan, and different States of the USA.

ARMY KIDS HAVE MANY FRIENDS

A positive outcome from the many travels and moves a military family makes are the many friends which family members make. Sometimes military children are almost forced to make friends due to having lost the friends they had during the last move. I, for example, learned to make friends easily and to this day, I make friends easily with strangers due to my many changes in addresses, states and countries which I soon grew used to. Below is a picture of my sister, Marilyn and myself with Jimmy McGuiness, a kid who lived across the street from us in Heidelberg, Germany. Jimmy's dad was a lieutenant colonel, my father, a major. Jimmy often joked with me about his father being higher ranked than mine, even if by only one grade.

ALCOHOL FACTORING IN FAMILY DYNAMICS IN THE MILITARY

Many military families suffer from the huge presence of alcohol in their families. Much drinking takes place due to the stresses of the military style of life because of frequent relocations, usually every year or two, and adjusting to different cultures wherever the family lives. New languages, climates, friends, schools, etc., impact the families' lifestyles. I know in my own family where my father was a major in the army this was so. My mother had to raise my sister and me by herself while Dad was undergoing training in different states or overseas for up to two years. She had to manage with one income as most women didn't work in the fifties. Because she often didn't have enough money to pay the bills as she depended on Dad to mail her money, we often went without even though he was an officer. When he was in Iran for two years, for example, she wrote him a letter in desperation once over this splitting of his income, and officers got paid less back in those days than they do now. also, officers' wives weren't supposed to work back then as it was a cultural thing for them not to. Today, officers get paid more;however, there are additional problems with the greater use of psychoactive medications and prevalence of street drugs in our culture, mostly used by teenagers. Today's military families face even greater stresses. The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq really haven't helped the matter, any! With more fighting women and men being stationed overseas, I perceive even more problems with alcohol and drugs than before. Much of this, of course, has been hushed by the military in order to maintain respect for our fighting men and women overseas. The sign of modern times.

RESILIENT CHILDREN USUALLY HAVE AT LEAST ONE GOOD ADULT ROLE MODEL

Growing up as a military brat and dealing with changes in school, friends and homes can result in instability in one's childhood. The close relationships I developed with our maid, Eliska, my Grandpa Freddie, plus several close friends, assisted in me developing resilience while growing up. Being lonely because of our family's social isolation in Heidelberg, I often wished we could move to the army base so I would find more friends my age. I also daydreamed of moving in with our maid's family near Cologne, north of the city where we lived. However, that was not meant to be. I learned to become more independent by reading a lot during the summer when there was no one to play with my  age. We continued to live off base after we moved back to the states. Again, I had to find nonmilitary friends as most kids who lived off base were civilians. Civilian children just didn't understand the culture of the military family, the constant moving around, making new friends every few years, the authoritarianism of following Dad's orders, making one's bed according to guidelines set by the parents, turning out bedroom lights at certain hours, and never being late for dinner. Close relationships I had with our maid, Eliska, various friends and Grandpa Freddie salvaged the discomfort I often felt in not being able to meet my parents' stiff standards. It saved my self-esteem and assisted me in developing into an adult with self-confidence and poise. Below are pictures of Eliska and Grandpa Freddie.

MILITARY BRATS MAKE FRIENDS EASILY

Because of all the moving around from place to place, Brats normally make friends easily make friends easily. They are forced to. Sometimes they live off base where there aren't too many American children available to play with. Also, exposing them to different cultures assists them in making new friends. I know that I learned to be more tolerant of those from different cultures either in the United States or in foreign countries. Besides learning new languages, I learned to eat new foods and learned about different holidays which I participated in with my family and American friends. Traveling to other countries and parts of the USA is an education in itself. This was one of the positive aspects of living abroad.

Pictured above in the picture is on the left, me, my sister, and Jimmy, a lieutenant colonel's son, who lived across the street from us in Heidelberg, Germany, in the fifties.

CONNECTING WITH BOOK REVIEWERS

After reading my memoir, several book reviewers have commented that they experienced similar events in their own lives as military brats. It feels comforting that I am the only or one of the few brats who experienced alcoholism in the family (in my case my mother, and later my younger sister), physical abuse, and feelings of aloneness while relocating so many times to different states and countries. Making new friends at each new location, getting used to new schools and climates was interesting but also demanding. Often I changed locations every year, mostly every two years, though. I also attended three third grades and found each school challenging. Because of these childhood challenges, I decided never to enter the service, myself, or ever marry a serviceman. I didn't wish any future children I may have to experience the same instabilities which I did.

 

From left, myself, my sister Marilyn and our neighbor, Michael, who lived across the street from us. I was nine, my sister, five,  and Michael was 10 at the time, in Heidelberg, Germany, in front of our home.