One of my older children, the College Kid, once asked me a great question regarding socks. Kid wanted to know why it is when we wear white socks, the dirt they pick up looks gray and dark. But when we are wearing black socks, the dirt looks white or light. As I sit here typing this I looked at one of my younger children, the Little Chef, and noticed chef has on black socks…which got me thinking about what Kid had said.
So this paper, on which I am supposed to be working, is for my class "Sociology of the Family of America". It is an interview with a couple who has children and touches on their decision to start a family, their parenting styles, challenges, etc. After completing my interview, last night, the Little Chef informed me the mother of a friend had died. I knew this woman! She was an acquaintance of mine from the school where I used to substitute teach and where my children attended last year and the year before that. She seemed like such a nice lady and her children are fantastic! Unfortunately, as I understand it, she had gone into the hospital for surgery, caught pneumonia, went into a coma, and the decision was made to take her off life support. How unbelievably devastating to her children and all the young ones who knew her. She served them well at the school. I believe her oldest is out of school, her middle child is in high school, and her youngest is in elementary school.
He grabbed her firmly by the neck. Her hands quickly went to meet his as she gasped for air.
"What do you want from me?!" he roared.
Her words were wispy and light without the force of oxygen behind them. "My name is Josephine Doyle," she started. Her hands still grasped his, hoping he would let go of her. "I am looking for Dr. Jekyll. I am from the local Victorian society."
Mr. Hyde studied her carefully. His eyes were on fire with rage. "I could kill you right now!" he hissed.
Josephine felt a tear forming in the corner of her eye. She was desperate to get free. "Please," she said as she pulled at his grip. It was too tight for her to work loose. She would have to strike him in the groin or gouge his eyes to get him to release her. Before she could, though, he let her go.
She ran from him and placed a large potted plant between him and herself. He could neither reach around it nor go over it. Each time he moved, she did also to keep distance between them.
“I am so sorry, sir…” she began.
“It’s Hyde!” he spat.
“Yes, Mr. Hyde. I did not mean to upset you! I was only looking for Dr. Jekyll.” She could not account for what she had done to get Hyde in such a rage.