This is totally babies — Whitney Houston

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itswalky

Whitney Houston

itswalky

So in third or fourth grade I was in a “Gifted and Talented” program that met in an otherwise unused school once a week elsewhere in town.  What this apparently translated to were lots of hours of pointless busywork for us.  Other than some abridged attempts at teaching us French, we were assigned lots of word problems out of a “learning system” of some sort.  It was beyond boring.  Me, I made it a weekly ritual of building Fortress Maximuses out of cardstock paper and markers.  I built a lot of them.

At the end of the year, we were supposed to put on a production for our parents.  Our teacher decided we would sing Whitney Houston’s “The Greatest Love of All” and do sign language to it.  Innocuous enough, right?

Then my mom found out!

My mom had a problem.  You see, the greatest love of all is NOT for yourself, as the song claims, but for God!  And this would just not do.  She had a real problem with this.  I didn’t know what to make of it.  My mom is my mom, and thus is always right, but I also valued not making a fuss.  I was a very shy child who hated conflict.  

Eventually, my mom pushed me to act.  She demanded I bring up the subject with my Gifted-and-Talented teacher.  And, being the shy, anti-conflict child I was, my solution was to write a note about my mom’s disapproval and slip it under my teacher’s desk at the end of the day after everyone had left.

I don’t remember much about the altercation between the teacher and my mom that happened the following day.  Obviously my teacher found the note and was beside herself.  I think there was an argument.  I don’t even remember the setting.  It was very stressful.  

But my mom and the teacher came to an agreement.  I would be onstage with the other kids for the song, doing sign language, but I would only mouth the words to “The Greatest Love of All,” not actually sing them.  

So that’s what happened.

As an adult, I feel really sorry for the teacher.  I mean, that’s the sort of thing that probably happens not infrequently when you teach in Indiana, but still.  

And as an adult, it’s also my only real connection to Whitney Houston.  ”Secular music” was a bad word in my house, so I have no substantial context for her otherwise.  Whitney Houston was just that lady my mom said was evil and indirectly caused me all sorts of anguish for, retrospectively, stupid reasons.  And so her being dead means something important and integral to me, I’m just not sure what exactly.  

itswalky

Reblogging this old thing because I had to go and mention the incident in Dumbing of Age’s hovertext, and I don’t wanna retell it from scratch.  

EDIT: aha ha ha ha ha it’s mother’s day isn’t it oh god sorry

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Whitney Houston

So in third or fourth grade I was in a “Gifted and Talented” program that met in an otherwise unused school once a week elsewhere in town.  What this apparently translated to were lots of hours of pointless busywork for us.  Other than some abridged attempts at teaching us French, we were assigned lots of word problems out of a “learning system” of some sort.  It was beyond boring.  Me, I made it a weekly ritual of building Fortress Maximuses out of cardstock paper and markers.  I built a lot of them.

At the end of the year, we were supposed to put on a production for our parents.  Our teacher decided we would sing Whitney Houston’s “The Greatest Love of All” and do sign language to it.  Innocuous enough, right?

Then my mom found out!

My mom had a problem.  You see, the greatest love of all is NOT for yourself, as the song claims, but for God!  And this would just not do.  She had a real problem with this.  I didn’t know what to make of it.  My mom is my mom, and thus is always right, but I also valued not making a fuss.  I was a very shy child who hated conflict.  

Eventually, my mom pushed me to act.  She demanded I bring up the subject with my Gifted-and-Talented teacher.  And, being the shy, anti-conflict child I was, my solution was to write a note about my mom’s disapproval and slip it under my teacher’s desk at the end of the day after everyone had left.

I don’t remember much about the altercation between the teacher and my mom that happened the following day.  Obviously my teacher found the note and was beside herself.  I think there was an argument.  I don’t even remember the setting.  It was very stressful.  

But my mom and the teacher came to an agreement.  I would be onstage with the other kids for the song, doing sign language, but I would only mouth the words to “The Greatest Love of All,” not actually sing them.  

So that’s what happened.

As an adult, I feel really sorry for the teacher.  I mean, that’s the sort of thing that probably happens not infrequently when you teach in Indiana, but still.  

And as an adult, it’s also my only real connection to Whitney Houston.  "Secular music" was a bad word in my house, so I have no substantial context for her otherwise.  Whitney Houston was just that lady my mom said was evil and indirectly caused me all sorts of anguish for, retrospectively, stupid reasons.  And so her being dead means something important and integral to me, I’m just not sure what exactly.  

whitney houston
itswalky

Whitney Houston

itswalky

So in third or fourth grade I was in a “Gifted and Talented” program that met in an otherwise unused school once a week elsewhere in town.  What this apparently translated to were lots of hours of pointless busywork for us.  Other than some abridged attempts at teaching us French, we were assigned lots of word problems out of a “learning system” of some sort.  It was beyond boring.  Me, I made it a weekly ritual of building Fortress Maximuses out of cardstock paper and markers.  I built a lot of them.

At the end of the year, we were supposed to put on a production for our parents.  Our teacher decided we would sing Whitney Houston’s “The Greatest Love of All” and do sign language to it.  Innocuous enough, right?

Then my mom found out!

My mom had a problem.  You see, the greatest love of all is NOT for yourself, as the song claims, but for God!  And this would just not do.  She had a real problem with this.  I didn’t know what to make of it.  My mom is my mom, and thus is always right, but I also valued not making a fuss.  I was a very shy child who hated conflict.  

Eventually, my mom pushed me to act.  She demanded I bring up the subject with my Gifted-and-Talented teacher.  And, being the shy, anti-conflict child I was, my solution was to write a note about my mom’s disapproval and slip it under my teacher’s desk at the end of the day after everyone had left.

I don’t remember much about the altercation between the teacher and my mom that happened the following day.  Obviously my teacher found the note and was beside herself.  I think there was an argument.  I don’t even remember the setting.  It was very stressful.  

But my mom and the teacher came to an agreement.  I would be onstage with the other kids for the song, doing sign language, but I would only mouth the words to “The Greatest Love of All,” not actually sing them.  

So that’s what happened.

As an adult, I feel really sorry for the teacher.  I mean, that’s the sort of thing that probably happens not infrequently when you teach in Indiana, but still.  

And as an adult, it’s also my only real connection to Whitney Houston.  "Secular music" was a bad word in my house, so I have no substantial context for her otherwise.  Whitney Houston was just that lady my mom said was evil and indirectly caused me all sorts of anguish for, retrospectively, stupid reasons.  And so her being dead means something important and integral to me, I’m just not sure what exactly.  

itswalky

for some reason new likes to this old post popped up on my dash, so here it is again, because MY CHILDHOOD WTF

i wrote it in 2012 when whitney houston died

itswalky

Whitney Houston

itswalky

So in third or fourth grade I was in a “Gifted and Talented” program that met in an otherwise unused school once a week elsewhere in town.  What this apparently translated to were lots of hours of pointless busywork for us.  Other than some abridged attempts at teaching us French, we were assigned lots of word problems out of a “learning system” of some sort.  It was beyond boring.  Me, I made it a weekly ritual of building Fortress Maximuses out of cardstock paper and markers.  I built a lot of them.

At the end of the year, we were supposed to put on a production for our parents.  Our teacher decided we would sing Whitney Houston’s “The Greatest Love of All” and do sign language to it.  Innocuous enough, right?

Then my mom found out!

My mom had a problem.  You see, the greatest love of all is NOT for yourself, as the song claims, but for God!  And this would just not do.  She had a real problem with this.  I didn’t know what to make of it.  My mom is my mom, and thus is always right, but I also valued not making a fuss.  I was a very shy child who hated conflict.  

Eventually, my mom pushed me to act.  She demanded I bring up the subject with my Gifted-and-Talented teacher.  And, being the shy, anti-conflict child I was, my solution was to write a note about my mom’s disapproval and slip it under my teacher’s desk at the end of the day after everyone had left.

I don’t remember much about the altercation between the teacher and my mom that happened the following day.  Obviously my teacher found the note and was beside herself.  I think there was an argument.  I don’t even remember the setting.  It was very stressful.  

But my mom and the teacher came to an agreement.  I would be onstage with the other kids for the song, doing sign language, but I would only mouth the words to “The Greatest Love of All,” not actually sing them.  

So that’s what happened.

As an adult, I feel really sorry for the teacher.  I mean, that’s the sort of thing that probably happens not infrequently when you teach in Indiana, but still.  

And as an adult, it’s also my only real connection to Whitney Houston.  "Secular music" was a bad word in my house, so I have no substantial context for her otherwise.  Whitney Houston was just that lady my mom said was evil and indirectly caused me all sorts of anguish for, retrospectively, stupid reasons.  And so her being dead means something important and integral to me, I’m just not sure what exactly.  

itswalky

My mom died today.  She was diagnosed with cancer 10 weeks ago, and it made very short work of her.  

I hadn’t spoken to her in about five years, short my sister’s wedding last year, when my brother told me about her diagnosis.  We drove up together (he didn’t want to face her alone) and we had a cordial breakfast.  

I saw her again Friday.  I drove up to say my goodbyes, though she wasn’t very responsive at the time.  My sister had traveled up from Florida and was taking care of her during her final few days in a hospice.  I could only spend about an hour there myself, as I had to drive back to Ohio that same day and take care of my own sick family.  

My sister and I had similar feelings about our mother.  She would move heaven and earth to do what she thought was right for us.  It’s just that she was often wrong about what was right for us.  Sometimes that worked in our favor, sometimes it didn’t.  Sometimes it meant driving hours up to Chicago to help me move out of an apartment last-notice.  Sometimes it meant me having to write a note about Whitney Houston to throw under a desk.  

Some folks mourn their parents being taken by Fox News in their later years.  My mom, though, was Fox News before Fox News was Fox News.  

And it’s hard to reconcile that with the times she fought for us with equal fury for the right reasons.  

It’s sometimes hard to find comforting platitudes that truthfully fit your experiences with a complicated parent in their final moments.  You don’t want to lie, but you also don’t want to be cruel.  This is what I said:

Goodbye, Mommy.

You did your best.

Thank you.

And then my sister walked me out to my car and I bawled for like 15 minutes.

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