Indian Ed's Trail of Tears

Back in the last five decades of the last millennium, a handsome sailor,Ed, who was last of his family line went to the second world war. His older sister became a spinster beautician. It was said that her beau had died in the war but families had to lie about things to avoid persecution. This is Maine as it is and was and ever shall be until the next flood or fire. The bible tells me so but I don't believe everything I read since God didn't leave an instruction manual. He gave us an E manual so we could reconnect against their will. 'They' are governments both foreign and domestic. There is excessive propaganda from all of them. We watch way too many commercials and hear far too many jingles on the radio. We're supposed to be listening to our hearts and our Mama's lullabyes.
     Ed chose a beautiful milk white orphan to mother his young. Her name was Maggie Mae. She spent her entire second decade bearing his babies because Mormon doctrine doesn't believe in birth control, Ed needed a son to carry on the family name and he kept throwing fillies. I was fourth in a row just before suppah in a November gale. THAT was a dark and stormy night, I heard the prayers on my way down. Mama was safe and sound in the maternity ward while nurses tended her and me. No, she didn't want to breastfeed. Can milk and Karo would fatten and shut me up! Someone else was tending to her other three howling furies and she didn't care who. This was likely to be the only vacation she was going to get before Ed was on her for a son. A woman's duty is to her husband after all. The male is dominant in most hominids. Women need to behave like bitches and find a BIG bad male wolf to eat the grandmothers who teach such garbage to little girls. Little girls are meant to be pampered and protected NOT used as sex toys, boys! Speaking of boy's toys, enough with the guns. Grow your own food. The woods aren't safe anymore. There are tribal feet running wild as the northwestern fires. The forest folk need homes, too! Besides that, you're depleting your own bubble and its already fragile enough! Pop! There went another planet!
     Indian Ed couldn't claim his Indian heritage because the king paid bounties on Indian redskin, Those dark braids made nice trophies. The new world needed to be exterminated before civilization arrived to bring the world to the war table for the REAL last supper.
     Ed needed a spirit medium to reach his fourth daughter in her infinity loop of Hell, Maine that connected one loop along the Kennebec River around Merrymeeting Bay to another loop across it from the falls in Androscoggin River. He planted his seed upriver near the capital but he brought them downriver for the jobs at Bath Iron Works on the Kennebec beside the Carlton bridge. His older girls could ride the train to their only grandparents' weathered shingle cottage during school vacations. Maggie's sister lived in Bath, too. She was sick and tired of his sister's complaints about her housekeeping and childrearing. Also, he was always a little too touchy whenever he'd had a few ales. Heaven help them all if he got into the hard stuff. As many times as she'd warned them not to let him drink more than a couple of cold ales, they'd peer pressure him past his limit and send him home for her to deal with.
The Indigo Girls are singing, "Come On Home" and it is almost suppah time so...

The Meanest -> Maddest Mother

She is a Mainiac and that makes her dangerous. She believes in herself these days. She knows that she's got you right where she wants you. She can be whatever she chooses but she's always fully female and as dangerous as any you might imagine. She's as ferocious as a grizzly around threats to children whether they're hers or another mother's. She's intelligent and always thinking of a better way to be or do anything. She struggles with her rage and pain so as not to misdirect the fury it can incite. It hasn't been safe or easy in Hell, Maine to survive these past six and a half decades. The world is always at war somewhere. She could easily become a casualty from such retaliations from total strangers. They aren't her enemies but they may be enemies of her state whether that is her state of mind or residence. She's all American and native to the land of her fathers' fathers. She likes the changing of the seasons because change is what living is all about. She's only recently become aware that she is far more powerful than the rumor mill that turns her out. On her best days, she is the best that you could hope for. She can make your mouth water or bring tears to your eyes. She's such a Daddy's girl that her Mama studied her often to see what her attraction was so she became Mama's favorite too.
     Most days, she taps away at the letters on her keyboard, sharing her thoughts and ideas. She tends to forget that EVERYTHING isn't about her. A little bit of Bev doesn't go a long way; it usually goes too far. When she stops loving you, she will be sorrier than you may be because love is meant to last. It doesn't last as long as snow people in Hell, even at the poles, which are melting these days. HELL is getting too hot to handle. She used to be until she turned off her furnace. She is a blast from her past and the center of attention at her own party. She can entertain children better than clowns and she's a great story teller. Little ones just call her Bev or NanaBev. They love her dearly and trust her completely. Children need to believe that their mothers are the meanest. She is. When she means it, she's deliberate and steady. She takes careful aim and BLAM! Down and dying! Its usually fatal. Someone or some THING is dying. It may only be who's interested in you. May BE ...She gives you permission to do your OWN thing. You wanna be mad, be damned, good AND mad. I'll give you every reason you need. I'll bake them into a batch of oatmeal cookies. She took no prisoners because she believed in free will.
     Her father was the wayward wind, her mother his night mare. She rode both with total abandon as fearless and free as a she eagle.
     She never quite fit in or out let alone above or below any other. There were none like her though there may be countless composed of her energy and fiber. Like each crystalline snowflake, she had her own unique points of interest and beauty. Her mind could be as sharp as any needlepoint, her personalities as magnetic as their pointed directions. She loved deeply and completely, absorbing  her own pleasures to fuel his until both were consumed utterly in mating passion. When angels breed with demon lovers survivors are fewer than half. Of five seeds that were fertilized, four were carried to term but the first born of each gender failed to thrive three months. The beautiful little female barely lived six weeks and missed her first Christmas.
     When death stalks a cradle, it is an omen of things to come. Difficult journeys await. Sweet love can never be forgotten. An angel needs many gifts to survive that mother's hell. Hope is one of them.