Thursday, 29 January 2009

Musical Interlude

Here are some videos and photos to go along with the story Ugly. I had thought of putting them with the chapters. I decide, since I have not written all the chapters to give everyone a brake of the heaviness of the last chapter to lighten it up a little.

A funny doc on the birthof the hippies.

A trailer from 1967

And just because this was made in 1967 and I love the song. I am sure they sung it in Cali.

Ugly p4

O.k. where did I end this?

Oh yeah.

My parents all gave me a name. A gift that would be with me forever. I wonder how they will fit that on my tomb stone? Make sure they do, wont you. It is my final wish. Well, I still have a few wishes left in me. But it's the one I want you to remember. Also, dear, rose granite. Yes, I want rose granite for the stone.

Anyway, I am still only one years old and far from the grave.

They took me back to the surgeons again. They had waited for be to get my birth certificate. They realized my mothers and fathers were a little disorganized. They had seen them beg for money. They realized this was the end of a year's journey.

I remember my mothers and fathers wanted to come in with me. My mother's face was so full of hope. As if she could imagine seeing me.

They had seen drawings of the procedure. They saw how a lot of children look afterwards. They got care instructions. While I was taken into another room.

They laid me on a table. They strapped me down. I was frightened. They put a blinding white light on above me and told me not to worry. You will wake and it will be all over. They looked like aliens with their faces covered. Monsters, ghosts, scary things. I tried to stay awake. I didn't want to sleep with the around me. I hate the feeling of being put under. It reminds me of death. It is a little death. I feel the same way about falling asleep sometimes. I wonder if I will wake up.

I did awake. I touched my face to rub my nose. I felt cloth. I cried. I felt pain. I cried louder.

My mother came to my bed. "You can not touch. You will ruin what the doctor did. You want to be pretty for Mommy, don't you? "

She never called herself 'Mommy' to me before.

She couldn't see my face under the bandages. In her mind under my bandage my face became hers as a little child. Flecks of freckle on my nose, pale white skin, and lips that held a mischievous smile.

You see all she could see was my eyes. Sparkly green blue just like hers. That was enough for her to piece the rest together.

"You do realize when the bandages come off she will have stitches and scars. She will never be "perfect", Bobbie? She will just be better then she was before, She will be able to have a more normal life than she would have without the operation. The doctor told us about this." My oldest father said to her.

"No, God, will make her perfect. Just like she was meant to be. My perfect pretty baby girl. She looks just like my little sister when she was a baby."

My mother's and father's looked around. Not really sure how to deal with her flights of fancy when they all knew the reality of the miracle she hoped for.

"Miss Miller, can you go out to the nurses station to fill out some paperwork about your baby." The doctor said. He was standing in the room the whole time.

"What paperwork?"

" Just questions about what your baby eats, likes, and such."

"But I don't know..."

The doctor gave her a stern look. "Are you not this child's mother?!"

"Yes, I can answer these questions, I just didn't want to leave her."

"It's important." Smiled the doctor as he escorted her out.

"Now that she is gone. I wanted to talk to all of you. This baby will need your help to recover. You will need to keep and eye on her mother. She seems to have unrealistic expectations. She is young still. You all live together, is that correct?"


"That is one good thing about you kids," Doctor said and he looked around "you have formed substitute families. Right now they both need family. RESPONCABLE FAMILY." He looked around almost judgemental with a mix of lecturing. " The baby needs a lot of nurturing and the mother needs a lot of growing up. I fear she is too young to deal with a child like this. It takes a strong woman to love a child that is not perfect."

My mothers and fathers seemed upset at that last remark. They felt mothers should love unconditionally. They also watched my mother not love at all but barely tolerate.

"Not all women are cut out to be mothers. The less mature the mother, the more likely she is to harm the child. If the child is deformed in mind or body, it is more dangerous. I hope the rest of you can fill in the gaps." His tone seemed far more concerned than technical now. " From what I have seen, you have. Please remember she's not a doll but a living human. They are delicate. There is a reason we pair off and have children, one mother one father. I hope you are all up for the task."

Mother came back in with a piece of paper and handed it to the doctor.

He looked it over. "So you baby likes hamburgers and fries and peppermint candies... oh and she likes playing with lava lamps. Be careful, Miss Miller, lava lamps can get very hot. Best to keep them away from her."

"O.k. Doc!" mother said as she came over to dolt on me again.

She kept looking into my eyes. As long as my face was bandaged I was beautiful. And she would told me so.

I was in the hospital for a while. Much longer than they would keep you in now. It was for the best. I was mostly healed by the time I got out. Chances for infection were low.

The last day I was there. I was happy to go home. The mothers and father's gathered. It was time for them to see my new face. The doctors had taken the stitched out a few days before, but kept me wrapped up. My mothers and fathers never saw me without the bandages.

The moment of truth as they say, they took off the bandages.

My mother's face went from smile and hope to disgust.

"But she is still ugly!" With that she got up and left the room.

The doctor looked at the rest of them. He didn't have to remind them of the words he spoke weeks earlier. The look said it all.

She rejected me again. I should have been used to it by now. I cried. The doctor was worried I would tear something. I should have been used of it by now. A full year plus of it. But for those few weeks I was her beautiful little girl.

Arms surrounded me. "Don't you look great! I didn't think it would turn out this good." My oldest father was here. Holding my little body close to him. My tears started to slow.

One of the mothers brought over a mirror. "Papillon, you are still my Papillon. See, the baby in the mirror. Her nose is in one piece now. Her lips come together like mine. And she pointed to her face where a long scar was on mine. Once there was a space there. I did look more like them. I laughed. And so did they.

"Time to get Rose into the sunshine where she belongs." Another of the mothers said. They dressed me and walked me down the hallway to the front door. "Rose, while you were in that dreary room, the world exploded in love and rainbows and music.." as we walked outside "and hippies!"

There were more people my mother's and father's age around, dressed the same, singing and dancing than I ever seen before.

One young woman with striaght long yellow hair came over to me and blew bubbles in my face. My oldest father carried me as I tried to reach for the bubbles catching one or two of them all the while I smiled and laughed. She smiled back at me. "Welcome to the Summer of Love, Little One!" She said in a laugh voice and danced away.

One of my fathers danced after her. We did not see him for about a week later.