Cause Essay II

Have you ever heard the saying, “The devil made me do it?”  If you have, you’re showing your age; if not, you’re culturally deprived.  This was a trendy catch phrase of the early ‘70’s, made popular by the comedian Flip Wilson.  Anyway, the jest of the saying was that any decision (primarily a bad one) was the responsibility of someone else.  It’s a good way to avoid accountability; to place the blame on others.  And so, without further ado, I am about to embark on some blaming for my move to Maine.  I intend to place blame on others, and a little on myself. 

Many years ago, my husband, Steve, served in the US Army.  Somewhere in the middle of his career, he permanently injured his back in the line of duty.  Whether it was from jumping out of airplanes or into foxholes, it matters not.  He injured his back.  Toward the end of his career, he faced a medical discharge and we faced a life-altering decision; where would we go.  At the time of his discharge, I was pregnant with our fifth child and more than a little worried about what would happen to our family.  No job, no home, no support.  We decided to move to Arizona; the Army would relocate us and Steve had been stationed in the area previously.  As I shared this information with my mother, she made a suggestion that would alter the course of our lives. It was because of her suggestion, my brother-in-law’s proposal and my own insecurities, that we abandon Arizona for Maine.

My mother suggested that we could come home and live with her and my father indefinitely in their big, old, four bedroom house.  This house was given to my parents by my grandfather before he died.  Well, maybe not given; he sold it to them for $25.00.  My parents had lived with my grandfather off and on through the years; the last stint being 6 years before his death.  Now, there was just my parents living in the house.  Because I hadn’t been home in 8 years and, as I  previously stated, was pregnant, I was anxious to be somewhere with familial support. 

But there were little things that made me uncomfortable.  My parents were pretty set in their ways.  For one, my father was tight with a dime; I half expected that he could squeeze it so tight, he could make two.  I knew that if the light bill was a nickel more than usual, or we used too much water, he would throw a fit.  My mother, on the other hand, often made assurances that she later regretted.  For example, my sister moved home with her family before we returned to Maine.  At first, my mother was all excited about having her grandchildren home, but as reality set in and a change to her routine developed, she began to look for ways to rid herself of them.  Eventually, she gave them a week to leave.  Luckily, my sister had supportive in-laws who had a house that they could rent.  Unlucky for me, I didn’t find out about my mother kicking my sister out until mom kicked my family out.  But my mother reassured me that everything would work out fine and I was persuaded that my parents had changed since I last saw them 8 years ago.   I convinced my husband that maybe it would be better to move back to Maine.

When my brother-in-law, Jere, found out we would be returning to the east coast, he became excited and offered to help my husband get a job with the State of Massachusetts.  My brother-in-law held a high-ranking position with MassHealth and just knew with his connections, and Steve’s military experience, he could get Steve a job in a matter of weeks.  One more reason to move back to Maine.  The kids and I could stay with my parents until Steve got a job and then relocate.  See all the support we had?  Why wouldn’t this be an ideal situation? 

Unfortunately, things didn’t work out as planned or promised.  My primary reason for moving home, familial support, started to ebb away.  Whereas initially, my mother poo-pooed my concerns about being a burden, she began to grumble about how much electricity we were using and how high the water bill was becoming.  Securing a job for Steve was much more difficult than Jere thought.  Veteran’s credentials are not as valued in the civilian community and the several jobs Steve might have acquired were filled by other candidates.  And he had that bad back thing.  I had my baby, but his presence didn’t help ease the tensions at home.  My father barely spoke to us and my mother was angry all the time.  I tried to make sure the kids were quiet and kept up mom’s housework, but she wanted her life back and set the wheels in motion.  By Labor Day weekend, she told us we had to be out of the house by “cold weather”. 

I was devastated.  The main reason we moved back to Maine were the promises made by my mother.  Before we moved back, it was she that said we would probably get tired of her, not the other way around, as I had alluded to her during the fateful telephone call.  And Jere started to get discouraged that he was unable to help Steve get a job and he began to back off from his offer.   And, of course, I began to panic.  What had I done, putting my little family in this position?  All because I was homesick?  We moved, ironically, into a house owned by my sister’s in-laws.  The house had been for sale for 15 years, we should be okay there, right?  The next month, the house sold.

Well, here I am, living in Maine for the last 17 years.  I still wonder what it would have been like to move to Arizona.  Would I be happier?  Richer?  Is the grass really greener on the other side?  I may never know.  But in the end, I blame myself because the warning signs were there.  But since my mother assured me that we would be no burden and could stay as long as we wanted, I jumped.  My brother-in-law’s confidence in helping Steve get a job added to the reasons to move.   But in the end, it was my own desire to be with family I hadn’t seen in years that was my downfall.  I hope I have learned a lesson:  that only I (and my husband) have our best interests at heart.