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Laura's Corner

I work very hard and am attending college to obtain my degree in the Human Service field. Writing makes me feel alive and gives me the opportunity to touch those whom I would not be able to otherwise. Last but not least, I have been blessed with two amazing daughters who love me completely and support my dreams. Feel free to contact me with questions, concerns or feedback.

Screw You Chicago!!!!

How many people agree with me regarding the title of this blog?  If you do, raise your hands!  I know exactly how you feel and I believe we could create a united front.  Let’s do this already!!

Chicago, the band created in the late sixties, was formed by Robert Lamm and Peter Cetera.  Those two madmen made it truly impossible to NOT fall in love, giving everyone in the world a reason to live.

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If you have ever taken time to watch the popular television show, most would agree that the situations bring about a flurry of emotions.  Anger, frustration and others along that line, we watch, hoping maybe just one person will step forward to intervene on behalf of the victim.

A recent situation brings to light what real people do in real situations.  There were no cameras, no crew and the victim was not an actress. 

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Don't say anything...

“Hey Sis, what’s up?  I know, I heard.  Dad is what?  Are you kidding?  I know he drinks.  I try to talk to him about it.  He says everything is ok.  What can I do, I am 1500 miles away.  He weighs 140 pounds?  He used to weigh 220 at the least.  Are you kidding me?  What are you guys doing about it?  I know it’s hard to say something.  I know he doesn’t listen.  You want me to call him again?  I will, but we have to work together.  I can’t do this alone.  I will be home for military leave next week.  I will go see him and talk with him.  I love you, bye!”  

Upon arriving home on military leave, I head to Dad’s house.  As I park, he walks outside of his apartment building.  I am so shocked by the site that I accidentally lock the doors with the car running.  Having been a firefighter, he has an “in” with the department, so we call the guys to unlock my car.  Meanwhile, what I see is frightening.  My father stands 6’1”.  We see eye to eye.   He is a shell, similar to a Holocaust Survivor.  His eyes are lifeless, his body, so thin that calling him anorexic would be kind.  I hug him; feel his bones through his clothes.  Nothing has prepared me for this visit.  

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