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Note: This is the late Larry Parker. I know everybody has had, and do have, their own problems. But...
I'm bitter that the adult male biological unit in my childhood homes was born with some kind of brain abnormality/psychiatric disorder, which left him with social skills that were far below average. My guess would be some form of autism. (I noticed late in my life how many photos he was in where he didn't look into the camera [or did, but usually didn't smile] as one indication that something was mentally amiss.) I guess that was why he treated his own sons as if they were imbeciles, losers, punks, failures at everything, and worthless life forms.
I'm bitter that I inherited about half a dose of what he had, except for the disdain for boys. Meaning; I'm bitter that I had below average social skills, below average intelligence, and below average confidence. That all remains the same, even as I type this.
I'm bitter that I was short for my age until the middle of high school, and I'm bitter that I was a skinny kid without confidence about anything. Combined, those practically put a sign on my back that said "bully me."
I'm bitter that my brothers got a similar treatment from the unit. I am especially bitter about how my innocent brother Andy inherited a strong dose of some similar brain abnormality. So he had even worse social skills than I did. But he was not a mean person at all. Andy had attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, before, I think, A.D.H.D. became a well-known "thing" that for children born well after Andy, was at least somewhat treatable through medication. For Andy, life was hard and often frustrating, and learning things came slowly. But he usually had an upbeat attitude.
I'm bitter that the aforementioned unit endlessly berated me; telling me that I was "good for nothing", and all sorts of other negative comments that I have blocked from my memory. To me, I didn't do much that was wrong. To him, I didn't do anything right.
I'm bitter that my wonderful mother had to deal with the big asshole, while having no adult in the home to confide in, or to help her.
When I was the boys' bedroom collecting my meager belongings as I was a minute from moving out of the house a few weeks before I turned 20, my mother came in the room and said, "You have to tell him you're moving out. He's your father." I reluctantly said OK. So on my way out the kitchen door, I said three words to him, as he sat eating at the far end of the kitchen table, facing me; "I'm moving out." I remember his exact reply; "I don't care what you do." As if I was a convicted drug dealer or murderer. I said nothing, still in fear of him doing something to me, so I walked out the door, put the last of my things in my car and drove away, never to come back until after he moved out.
I'm bitter that women had little or no interest in me, and that I never had a girlfriend. Oh, I went on about 15 dates and semi-dates in my life. But I believe it wasn't as if the women thought I might be somebody they might want. I guess they thought I was harmless (which was accurate) and maybe they thought that whether the "date" went good or bad, they would have a story to tell their girlfriends. I'm not a mind reader, but I never detected any real interest in me from anybody.
I'm bitter that I have had a lazy eye for about 30 years, which has gotten worse as the decades pass. Every woman deserves a man that has two eyes that always point in the same direction. So I have refused to try to stick any woman with someone whose eyes point in different directions. I am in the habit of avoiding eye contact with everybody. And I'm not too thrilled about losing half of my hair.
I'm bitter that the rightly needed financial contributions to help Mom after her divorce (two new cars and tens of thousands of dollars in cash, merchandise, and professional services) fell to me, the third or fourth most well-off household among the four siblings. However, I am not bitter that Mom needed money and things. She gave me everything she had when I was a kid, so I felt that I owed her. I recognize that Sue did assist Mom in person, more than I could, living 2,000 miles away. But if I could have instead put that $50,000+ in the stock market, I would have been in good financial shape now. But Mom needed my money then, so I gave it to her.
I'm bitter that my innocent brother Andy died for no known reason at the age of 37. Andy had more than his share of frustrations during his short life. I guess those overwhelmed him during his last days. And I'm bitter that his wife never called his brothers to let us know that Andy was going downhill fast, mentally and physically.
I'm bitter that I did not have the money to visit Mom during the last five years of her life. The last time I saw her was when I flew back in early February of 2009 to pick up the 2004 Camry I had bought her, after Mom made the timely decision that she could no longer drive. Mom died February 11, 2014.
I'm bitter that my surviving siblings -- who got double the inheritance from the unit than they would have if Andy hadn't died and if the unit hadn't decided to punish me for failing to cash a $50 check he had sent me out-of-the-blue quite a number of years prior, – took the last will of a deranged old man way too literally, and decided to not each toss me a few grand from their unknown-to-me, but likely mid-to-upper five-figure hauls. I'm not saying I deserved an equal 1/3 share...but nothing, besides the $100 the unit was advised to toss me, solely to block me from contesting his will?
I'm bitter that as I type this in August of 2019, I'm not only out of money, I owe $10,000 on my credit cards, mostly due to cash advances I needed, to recently pay the rent and everything else, due to a lack of work as a construction truck driver as a member of the Teamsters union. For unknown reasons, my occasional work driving off-road dump trucks petered out to nothing during 2018 and 2019.
I can't do many other jobs. I can't do much hard labor – it doesn't take much for my back to “go out.” After that happens, I'm practically paralyzed for a few days. I can't survive and pay down my credit card bills on 15 bucks an hour as a non-union truck driver. Even at 40 hours per week, after taxes that won't pay my $1,120 monthly rent plus everything else.
And at this point in my life, I refuse to try to find a roommate to try to save $300 or so per month, by splitting a two bedroom apartment. I do not want to deal with sharing an apartment with anybody, even though beggars shouldn't be choosers. All I have been acomplishing in recent months is consuming natural resources for nothing, while burning through what tiny inheritance money my seven nieces and nephews MIGHT be able to get, after my brother obtains money from my Teamsters pension, (which I couldn't start to get for more than four years from now) and pays taxes on that, pays my credit card bills and the state of California.
The state demands their money back from the estate of anybody who had received medical insurance for free, from the state. (I didn't have the money to pay Obamacare penalties due to me not having health insurance, so I applied to get free health insurance. I received that for 35 months. I never did visit any doctor using that insurance. I did not know the state would demand their money back after users died, if they left an estate. If I had known that, I would have put the Obamacare penalty of $650 or so per year on a credit card.)
I should also add that I hate working in general, and I hate even more working for asshole supervisors.
On top of all of that, I woke up one morning this spring with my left ear so plugged with earwax, that I was deaf in that ear. I put liquid earwax remover in, waited, then used a rubber squeeze bulb to try to flush out the wax with water. Without thinking, I used way too much pressure. I must have damaged my eardrum. The result was that I gave myself tinnitus. That ear perceives a constant low-volume high-pitched “tone” that my brain makes, although it isn't an actual sound. Then the other ear started having tinnitus. I have a tone in both ears, 24/7. :(
For pretty much my entire life, I have had little reason to live, except for occasionally helping Mom financially for a couple of decades during the last third of her life. Since Mom died, about my only reason to live has been to try to get my 13 genealogy charts (mine, plus 12 for various relatives) as complete as possible, then posting the information online. I have pretty much accomplished that. Now, having no money, and being years from being eligible to receive Social Security and my Teamsters pension, I have no reason to live. I'm not going to beat my brains out for 15 bucks an hour to try to see if I can pay for rent, food and utilities, while hoping to have enough left to send in minimum credit card payments.
After all of that complaining and whining, I want to say what I have been thankful for. First, I am thankful for my mother, who did everything she could to help me for the first 20 years of my life. She really cared about me.
I'm thankful for the people who decided to hire me, even though I had no experience at the job. In order, as I remember; paperboy, busboy, stock boy (grocery), construction laboratory technician and inspector, construction laborer, bartender, auto salesman, truck driver.
I'm thankful that my brother Jim let me stay with him for 13 months when I moved from suburban Chicago to southern California in 1985. And that during that time he got me a good job as a concrete mixer driver, through which I became a member of the Teamsters union – lasting 33 years – although I was unemployed most of that time.
I'm thankful for a male cousin I'm not naming and a former co-worker you don't know who each separately decided, seven years apart, to – without telling me – pay a different woman to make me feel like a man for a little while. Then that was the end of that - money or no money. Yes, I was a big loser with women. Ouch.
I'm thankful that in 2001 my cousin Kathy Surma McHugh gave me Parker genealogy information that she had collected, which later began to interest me, giving me a hobby that I enjoyed for the rest of my life. (Here's my Parker - Zeller chart; <https://gw.geneanet.org/larryparker_w?i=0&type=tree> Click on any person. Then, on the right, you will see basic birth, marriage, death and burial dates and places. Next, click on “View note” to read “notes” I wrote for most people in my chart. For people on the top of the first page with a + sign above their name box, the chart continues backwards in time.)
Also go to <https://www.familysearch.org/tree/person/details/L1R8-Z1K> You will probably have to create a free account. That's my mother's page, which connects to every known deceased ancestor and relative I have ever had, on both sides of my family.
I'm thankful for California's Employment Development Department (part of which is commonly known as "Unemployment.") The many tens of thousands of dollars I have received from that during the last 20 years were absolutely essential -- a matter of life and death.
I'm thankful that I haven't had to deal with the bad weather and depressing short winter daylight hours in the Chicago suburbs since late 1985, except during a few short instances back there.
I'm thankful that every single one of my aunts, uncles, cousins and their significant others, as well as relatives of them all, have all been very nice to me. I liked all of those people.
The end.
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