When Your Parent’s Dream Becomes Your Nightmare

Picture it, San Bernardino California 1971 a Texas couple are contemplating returning to the Lone Star State after two years in the smoggy, over populated county. Where bumper to bumper traffic was a daily ritual and breathing in pollution while hanging laundry out to dry was par for the course. This couple made the decision to return to Texas and………..make the biggest mistake of their lives!!! No, not returning to Texas but the decision to build their home on land that, by a stupid verbal agreement has tied them to this Titanic sized anchor to date.

My parents in California one year before I was born

My childhood home still stands, it’s getting older just like its inhabitants and just about as run down. My parents house sits on a 1/4 acre of land that was once part of a three acre cotton gin, which the main office, turned into a house back in 1959 still stands. This was my paternal grandparents home, a small two bedroom, one bath home that housed a family of seven. It’s still there on the shared acreage of what was once a huge cotton gin. This “house” was rented by my grandparents from the soon to be former owner of the cotton gin where my grandfather worked for many years. One day my grandfather was approached by the owner letting him know that he was going to sell the three acres and asked if he was interested. He said it he was going to sell it for $3000, and I’m sure back in 1964 this was a shit ton of money. My grandfather had a pow-wow with my granny and they decided to try and come up with the money to buy the land. Well, my dad’s oldest half-sister who was a complete and utter bitch and his full sister my darling aunt his full blooded sister worked for a doctor in town. Both of them nurses, both of them bringing in more income than my grandfather and dad combined. So, the half- bitch sister and my aunt decided to approach the doctor, Dr. Delgado for a loan. Since both of them were trusted and dependable employees of Dr. Delgado he said yes and there is when this nightmare of a situation began.

My wonderful Aunt Nettie, wedding picture

Both my Aunt Nettie and her bitch half sister borrowed the money, but to repay the good and generous doctor all of the family chipped in to pay off the $3000 loan. Including my dad and his younger brother who worked as a box boy at one of the grocery stores nine miles away. My granny was a wonderful woman who dressed up as Santa Clause for Christmas.

Granny and me Christmas 1972

She made homemade tortillas every single day for breakfast, lunch and dinner. She had a garden so beautiful I remember just walking around and getting lost in all the flowers and plants. She made Cafe De La Olla or coffee in a clay pot with cinnamon and orange peel and it was delicious especially during the holidays. She smelled like Dove soap and her hair was as white as snow and she was beloved by everyone. BUT she did have a mean streak (now I know where I get that from) but I won’t mention that. When my parents came back from California back in 1971, I was but two years old and they moved in with my grandparents until they found a place to live. My sweet, sweet misguided grandmother began to talk my dad into building their home on the land she was sure would be all of theirs since they all pitched in to buy.

But, even though the entire family repaid Dr. Delgado, the name on the actual deed was that of my bitch half-blooded, cloven hoofed, forked tonged, speared tailed aunt. This fact wasn’t revealed until after my granny had passed away in 1973. The land is still considered commercial and is still to this day taxed that way. Which means that my parent’s pay commercial land tax on a residential property and since it’s never been rezoned to residential, my parent’s can’t claim any tax exemptions for their age or income because technically the land is still vacant, commercial and under asshole cousins living Oklahoma.

Back in 1981 when my grandfather passed away my bitch devil half aunt told my parents they could continue to live on the property as long as they paid the property tax. Which really wasn’t fair because my parent’s home only takes up 1/4 of an acre. The rest of the land? Oh did I not mention that the half bastard son of my dear, wonderful granny lived on the other side with his automotive repair shop taking up more than half of the land as well? But my parents and my dad’s half bastard brother had to split the property taxes right down the middle each and every fucking year. When my bitch, forked tongued aunt finally kicked the bucket in 1996 the property passed onto to her inbred, red-neck, sister porking, toothless moonshine swigging, trailer trash kids in Oklahoma. Yes people I have red-neck cousins but I don’t acknowledge them in any way. This is because my demon spawn aunt denied that my dad and his two legitimate siblings (all my grandfathers children) were not related to her. She maintained this until the day she croaked the fucking bitch, as did my dad’s older half bastard brother, which now that I think about it, my grandfather raised these two ingrates and they still thought they were superior to my dad and his brother and sister. Anyway, so when the land passed on to the red-neck side of the family, they continued their “verbal” agreement with my parents even though my parent’s tired in vain for years to buy the land that their house sits on to no avail.

After all of this family drama the only one I really blame is my dad, why you ask? Well, he’s still to this day a fucking mama’s boy. The man is 83 years old and because of his unwillingness to move away from his mother he made the decision to stay and create this entire nightmare of a situation. Back in 1976 my parents began to look at a subdivision of new homes being built less than half a mile away from my grandfather’s house. It was the very same floor plan as my parent’s home only about 105 square feet bigger with a garage no less all for the whooping price of…….$67,000.00!!! My dad said no because he’d built the house they lived in with his own two hands……I COULD FUCKING KILL HIM FOR THIS STUPID DECISION!!! Not only would they have already paid of the other house, but the could be living with tax exemptions and maybe a reverse mortgage to help them get by. Because God knows I don’t want that house and my brother needs to be responsible for himself sometime before the motherfucker turns 70 years old. Not to mention that when I was living with my parent’s I helped them with the property taxes, which my mother says I didn’t but what the fuck does she know? She can’t even remember where she went yesterday and I have receipts for proof.

But no, my dad the epitome of a mama’s boy is still there, stuck in a fucking situation that I can’t even help out in because any communication with my idiot family in Oklahoma causes me to breakout in a damned rash. My dad’s bastard half brother died back in 2009 and his whore of a widow who’s shacked up with some dude my parent’s don’t recognize still demands half the taxes. She was 27 years younger than my uncle who didn’t marry her until he was 54, the bitch is 11 years older than I am but looks like she’s 85. She married him for his military disability and thought he had money, boy was the bitch surprised when she found out he wasn’t.

So….this is the story of how my parent’s own their home but not the land that it’s situated on. The nightmare will only get worse when they are no longer around. Because I’ll be the one to try and demolish and salvage what I can from my childhood home so that when my parent’s are no longer here, the land will go back to the inbred red-neck cousins in Oklahoma the way it was back in 1971. No house, no dad’s workshop nothing, just land that where once stood an old cotton gin, silent and alone.

Until next time……this is the Huntress, saying…”Don’t be a Moth Around a Dim Yellow Bulb, Be a Moth to a Flame, Make it worth the Burn!”

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