Ugly p3

My mother was young. I tell myself that. She was far from her family. She had no mother around. The only real adults were men. They could not understand all the things a woman goes through during those time. She had no-one to explain to her about how babies form and how many things could go wrong.

I don't really blame her.

I wish I could truly believe that. But those are the first words I heard.

I know people don't believe you can remember that far back. But I do. And my first feeling was rejection. The first name I was called was Ugly. It was not the last time. It was used so much I thought it was my real name or at least one of my names until I was seven.

The father who gave me to my mother took me away quickly.

The women gathered around me.

"Poor thing."

"It doesn't look like any of the men or even the mother."

"We should bring it to a doctor. Get it checked out."

One woman took me. "SHE, she is not an it! She is a baby. I will take her."

One of my fathers drove us to the hospital. We waited in the ER for a long time. A very long time. I started crying. I couldn't stop. My crying for hours is what finally got me looked at.

Bright, bright white light. Each face less loving than the last.

"Someone give this child something to eat!" A man in a white coat ordered.

They fixed me a bottle and feed me. The substance they feed me would come out of my face.

" We can fix this cleft lip and pallet opening with surgery. The birthmark will have to stay. Other then that she looks like a very healthy baby. Why didn't the doctor who deliver the baby explain this to you? " He looked at the woman who brought me in suspiciously.

"This is not your baby? You don't look like you just gave birth."

"No, sir. It was a home birth and the mother freaked out."

"Is the mother alright? Does the father have insurance? Are you the father?" He looked at the father who brought me in.

"I think she is. No insurance and there is no father. I mean..."

"You kids. Creating babies. Having them at home with who knows what around. Not knowing which one is the father. This is not the first child I have meet from your communes. A little girl needs a Daddy.

This is going to cost money. Can your commune come up with the money for her surgery? The longer you wait for it the harder it will be on her. "

My father and the woman looked at each other. They didn't have any real money. Not the kind the doctor wanted.

"When you have the money give this person a call. " He handed them a card with the name of a doctor and an amount written on the back.

"Nurse, get them some formula and some bottles to take with them. "

The nurse left quickly.

"I strongly encourage you to try to get the mother to breastfeed. It is the cheapest way to keep the baby healthy."

The nurse returned with a weeks worth of formula, 4 bottles a package of diapers and pins.

"Take these and here is some pamphlets on how to take care of a baby. The mother might be 'emotional' or depressed. Watch her around the baby."

The nurse washed me off, diapered me and swaddled me in a blanket. Showing the woman how to did it every step of the way. She handed me back to the woman.

When I was brought home everyone gathered around. It was explained about my medical condition and what was needed to fix it.

Each father emptied their pockets. Each mother did as well. For the women, who later saw themselves as mothers to me as they would play with me, smile at me and give me the love my own mother did not have to give.

The months passed. My mother finally did take me to her breasts. She was never alone with me. One of my fathers would be there or one the other women. She didn't do much more than feed me ending each feeding with "Get that Ugly thing away from me!" She was sure I was her curse, her scarlet letter to wear for sinning against God. I know because she would wake up and say it every morning she saw my face.


They would find little jobs here and there. They would bring me to the street with them and out right beg for money. Other communes heard of what had happened. How a baby with many mothers and many fathers needed money for an operation. They would come by and give us what they had. My mothers and fathers sold pot for the 'fix my face fund', my mothers sometimes had sex with older men for profit, sometimes they sold flowers they picked.

It was my first birthday when they finally called the doctor to set up the appointment. At least that is what they told me. May 24th,1967.

My mother called me Ugly.

Each father and mother had different names for me. I responded to almost anything by the time I was a year old. Some named me after their mothers or grandmothers. Some after flowers or other things. Some changed their name for me as I grew. One mother said I reminded her of a cat when I was born. So she called me Kitty. That was until she saw me play with a sunbeam when I was 2 months old. Then she called me Sunbeam. Later as I made a mess while eating sweet potatoes I was Pie Face. When I was crawling I reminded her of a turtle. So I became White Turtle. When I got closer to a year old I was picking the heads of dandelions. So then she called me Dandelion. Another called me Papillon after the birthmark on my face.


When I was brought to the doctors office they asked for a birth certificate. There was not one.

My mothers and fathers brought me to city hall to get one.

"Mother's name?"

"Roberta Susan Miller."

"Father's Name?"

They looked around.

"The Universal God of Love and Understanding."

"So that would be none."

My father's were not amused. They really did want The Universal God Of Love And Understanding on the birth certificate.

"Sex?"

"Yes, please."

"Ha, like I haven't heard that before from you hippies? BOY or GIRL?!"

"Girl"

"Place of birth"

"The Planet Earth"

"San Francisco, it is than. You wouldn't have a date and a time would you."

"Damn, did anyone look at the clock that day? " the mummers among themselves.

"May 24th. Sorry no time other than it was dark out. " My birth mother talked for the first time in all of this. No one was sure what day it was either. It was May. She decided to choose Bob Dylan's birthday. It did make it seem like she was paying attention to something that day.

"The child's name?"

"Ugly." My mother responded.

"No! Don't write that!" the others said quickly.

"Good I was hoping you were not serious. So what is her name?"

"Dandelion, Papillon, Rose, Moonbeam, Alice, Rainbow Walker, Emma, Peace Frog, Matilda" They all said their name for me in turn then my birth mother said "Miller"

"You have got to be kidding?"

"No!" They said together.

"Just write it down." my oldest father said to the women behind the counter.

They waited the appropriate time and got my official piece of paper saying I existed and my name was NOT Ugly. Officially. Not Ugly. Though my mother still called me it from time to time. But mostly she started calling me Dani. Everyone else still called me their name for me.

As I grew older other people thought Dani was short for Danella. They never believed that me that it was short for Dandelion.

Ugly p2

After loosing Sandra and her sister in the street she ran to the train station. They were not there.

She sat there for the night. Partly because it was her last effort ditch effort to meet up with her again. Part because in her quest to be famous she forgot to find a place to stay.

In the morning the ticket taker woke Bobbie "Baby, you gotta buy a ticket somewhere or go. And don't thing about sleeping here again. This was a one time thing. Got me, child?"

"Yes, Mame." Bobbie Sue said as she took her bag and strolled out of the station.

She got a room in a sleazy boarding house. That was easier than she thought. She just lied about her age, and they didn't really care anyway. She found someone who got to doctor an ID so she could get a job and a driver's licence. She felt scared and alive and free all at the same time. She felt like she was told being a teenager was suppose to feel like. She did not want to look back.

She saved a little. She meet other young people. She meet a young man. Young, he was 25. She thought daddy would shoot him if he ever knew. They moved to San Francisco. He had friends there who were all sharing a house. Young people providing themselves a family when they have none. This appealed to her. She was not alone. She was not so scared. She felt alive and safe.

No more of the old school. No more woman the salve to man. We are modern. We have jobs. We have men who tell us we are free and liberated from the chains of our mothers.

The guys still make the women do the dishes and wash the clothes and clean up after them. She wonders where the liberation was. Every time they grabbed her ass and whispered free love into her ear she remembered. Liberated from being a good girl. When they would bring it up the men would talk about doing the stronger tasks. "Separate but equal, babe. Everybody works in the commune." They still didn't seem to work much, more sitting and talking.

They introduced her to pot, hash and shrooms. Now that felt liberating. She felt free to enjoy the making love not war even when the boys didn't know how. She wondered with her mother's "no sex before marriage" rule, how she ever knew if Daddy was good in bed. She decided it was much better to check out the merchandise and throw the inadequate ones back. She did a lot of throwing ones back, than fished them back out again to see if they learned anything.

Free love plus drugs = me.

"Hi!"

Welcome to my conception.

Party time!

Well, literally.

It was an orgy.

I have 5-8 possible fathers. My mother could only remember 4 of their first names. 2 she actually knew last names of.

Well, the night started off with the normal meal, cooked by the women. Lentils, brown rice, you know typical hippie earthy crunchy stuff. Next came the hash brownies. Some friends of friends came by with their "old ladies". And Bob's your uncle...

What, you thought I would tell you this part. If you want a sex story there are plenty out there, films, too, I am told. Especially of the orgy verity. I never asked her the details of an orgy. Mostly because I was sure she would tell me. Some things you should not hear from your mother.


When she turned up pregnant and throwing up a few months later the men in the house got together and decided she should have an abortion, for a baby would really drag everyone down.

The next day they gathers some cash together from their fathers and....

Of course she didn't! I couldn't tell you the story if she did, could I? Maybe I could, from the aborted fetus part of heaven or limbo or where ever aborted babies go. Sorry, my Southern Baptist up bring comes back at the worse time.

Well, she told them. And all the women in the commune told them too. They had their own little revolution. Women's liberation. Explaining what a woman's right to choose what happens to her body meant. It meant a whole lot more the lending them her body for mutual enjoyment.

The women were so furious that they went on strike. Oh, the men laughed. They said anything girls could do they could do better. This went on for weeks.

The men cooked.

Well, the burnt a lot of food. You see their mother's didn't teach them to cook. After a few days they decide raw foods were healthier for all of them special a pregnant woman.

The men cleaned.

They decide cleaning was bad for babies. Because there were toxins in cleaners. The women pointed out no toxins in hot water and a mop and elbow grease. There mother's didn't teach them to clean either.

The men did the washing of the clothes.

The cloths were all pink. Many a dress got shrunk to the size of a 6 year's dress. Mother's never taught them how to sort laundry, either.

The women ended their strike when they could take it no more. The woman not the men.

The men had a house meeting. They admitted the real reason for the abortion suggestion. They all could be my father. They didn't know how to deal with it. They were all taught real men take care of their responsibilities. But she was the first girl they could not convince to have an abortion. They really didn't know how to deal with this.

They all decided to wait and see. Who ever I resembled would be my father and he would take care of me and my mother. One of them had did a study in college where the results were the babies resemble the fathers. It was nature's way of getting the father to bond with the baby instead of killing it.

Not very scientific, I know. DNA tests were not around back then. Until I was born and let them all know, they would all treat her as if she carried his child inside her.

This made me the commune's baby.

Mother enjoyed herself. She was pampered as if she was a goddess. It was the first and last time this happened. She was very grateful for me during this time. I was appreciated. I too, was adored and wasn't even born yet. They would all sing to me. I could hear the music through my mother's skin. Words of love were spoken I am told.

The months passed. I grew, my mother's stomach grew.

During yet another orgy, I decided to make my appearance. The water broke. I am told nothing stops and orgy like a woman's waters braking.

This should have been a sign to her. The party should have been over.

They had all agreed to have a home birth.

My mother changed her mind halfway through. "Drugs, I want drugs!"

"The baby is almost here, it will only hurt for a moment. " One of my fathers said to her.

She responded by hurling a lava lamp at his head. One person screamed that it was expensive. Mother screamed because she burnt her hand.It did take her mind off the pain. That father screamed because his face was burnt. He still has the scares today.

With all this screaming, down the birth canal I came. More things were thrown as advice about my mother's pain being mostly in her head were said by people who would never feel the joys of birth without drugs.

A lot more screaming issued from mother and the people she got with her easily identified flying objects.

When I came out. The noise of the house stopped. The only noise to be heard was my crying.

They handed me to her, naked and bloody and cord still attached.

"Get it away! It's UGLY! God has punished me!" mother cried.