The Spooky Tale of Big John

     The following post is an account of true events.  They have been slightly (very slightly) exaggerated and spookified to enhance the overall effect of the story.  Names have been changed to protect the people involved.  I thought it would be fun to share these experiences as a ghost story since it's Halloween.  They're the closest I've ever come to living a horror story (sarcasm intended).  In truth, I look back at this time of my life with amusement and a sense of gratitude for many a belly laugh which came as a result.  My description of Big John is sadly accurate, though I admit that in trying to find words that adequately describe him, it does sound rather harsh.  Wait until you finish this ghastly story before you judge me too harshly.  I hope you enjoy it anyway!  Happy Halloween!

     Little Lori, now an old woman, remembers the events of those months spent working at the old movie theater with mixed feelings.  Horror intermingles with confusion and disbelief as the memories from so many years ago crowd her mind.  The anger had faded over time and a sense of the surreal touched her as she related these events to me.  Now, gather around as I relate her spooky tale of mayhem when, once upon a time, she was plagued by a malignant being known as Big John.
     It is true that Big John's origins could never be traced accurately.  Still unknown, his parentage has been questioned by many who he appeared to.  Was Big John a changeling?  It's almost certain that he was part goblin, all troll or possibly the dimwitted spawn of the devil himself whose man-like appearance haunted the old, dilapidated theater for a time.
     Big John was tall, a few inches above six feet at least, with a hulking build which would have looked like it belonged on a football field had it not been for the fact that his muscle mass had started to turn into softer flesh.  His Cro-Magnon like appearance may have been dismissed as inaccurate had it not been for Big John's lower intelligence and lack of hygiene, which could not be hidden when one was in his presence.  A general sense of a lumbering fool with bad body odor was the best was to describe the haunt of whom this tale depicts.
     Little Lori does not remember the first time she spied Big John, nor does she wish to recollect the episode.  When she first went to work at the theater she was excited.  Having reached adulthood, Little Lori now needed a way to provide for her own self in the world, and the neglected, old theater, even with the creepy feeling that accompanies older buildings, was as good a place as any to start her journey.  She enjoyed movies and the atmosphere appealed to her as a place of fun where she might learn and experience new things.  Little did she know what was in store...
     Lori's earliest experiences with Big John, a fearsome wraith who possessed the theaters and believed he was in charge there despite his lack of work ethic, were not drastic or terrifying.  She was, at first, only aware of his oafish nature and learned not to stand too near his person.  But slowly she became aware of what she at first thought of as 'Big John's quirks'.  She, with the help of the other assistant managers at the theater, learned not to leave her keys, pens, or any other small and portable objects sitting around the office, lest she should enter that place to find Big John eerily lying on the couch digging said pen into his belly button or ear (she preferred not to think of where else he may be using those objects to scratch, touch or...whatever).  With feelings of hesitancy, and a sense of foreboding, she would politely excuse herself from speaking with him citing work, although most of the time Big John did not seem to seek her out to exchange words.
     Soon Lori began doubting Big John's judgment and sometimes his intelligent quotient.  At the end of a shift, Lori would count up the profits from the night's work only to find she was $50 shorter than she should be.  Panicking at what might happen if this money was not found, Lori would question the other employees which she soon learned could almost always account for the missing money.  One of the box office personnel or concession attendants would have recalled a sighting of the supernatural specter Big John who maliciously took money from their tills in order to buy some supply which he thought essential for the running of the theater.  No receipts would be presented for some time to account for the missing funds.  Thankfully, the head assistant manager, Timothy, was well acquainted with Big John's scare tactics and Lori had only to tell him of another disastrous episode of 'assistance' from Big John as an explanation of the night's happenings.

     Her following experiences with this spook cemented in her mind his tortured mental capacity.  Such episodes as using Nair on his entire head of hair instead of getting a haircut or shaving it himself, painting his car with house paint, and gliding around the theater breaking everything in his path were soon a part of daily life.  It was not uncommon for Big John to appear in the office stating that "someone" broke projector five or the drink machine or one of the cash registers (I'm sure you can guess who that 'someone' was) and then he would order his employees to fix the broken items as soon as possible while he took off for home on his mini motorcycle, atop which he looked ludicrously large.
     Loris' great dislike of this malevolent spirit (which frequently left her feeling dyspeptic and slightly queasy) increased with later catastrophes.  Big John once decided that their 'waste product' percentage (items such as a popcorn tub returned by customers who wanted their money back) was too high and would take said waste products, which had been damaged after their return to signify them as having been already used, tape them together again and resell them to new, unwitting customers.  Other circumstances included Big John deciding to splatter paint the lobby pillars one day while the other workers was at a staff meeting.  Returning from their meeting, the employees were greeted by Big John's haunting smile in the middle of a gruesome sight.  He had neglected to cover a single object in plastic; paint had been ground into the carpet, flung all along the concession areas, it enveloped the hot dog and food machines, smeared the mirrors, and even sat in globs on the walls across the lobby!  Halted by the spectacle of horror, the staff stood stock still in silence.  Big John creepily told the group that they had half an hour to clean up the mess that "somebody" created before the theater opened...oh and "somebody" had broken one of the cash registers as well (better get that taken care of).  Little Lori's thoughts at that time centered on the idea that some apparitions are just plain evil.
     One day Little Lori was working in the office with Timothy while Big John disturbed them (in more than one sense).  Somehow a piece of a pipe from some broken equipment lay in the office and Big John, supposedly having nothing else to do, picked it up.  Spidey senses on alert, Lori edgily watched Big John as he quietly inched toward Timothy who sat with his back toward them.  Piece of pipe extended in his hand, Big John lowered the pipe to the level of Timothy's rear end, and just as Lori was about to give a warning cry, Timothy, sensing Big John's approach, looked around which stopped the demon's progress, and even triggered his regression.  But as soon as Timothy turned around again, Big John repeated the process.  After about the third time, Timothy irritatingly asked what Big John was doing.  The reply was both disgusting and agitating.  "I was just seeing if it would fit!"  he cackled and whirled out of the office.  (Nowadays, this would have been classified as sexual harassment and would have had much harsher consequences, as would many of these experiences come to think of it.)
     This was not the first nor the last time Little Lori's stomach took a sickening turn while being around this fiend.  In abject terror, she once saw Big John write on the wall in his own spittle.  He was trying to describe where a store was that he wanted Little Lori to go to in order to purchase needed supplies.  Making a muck of it with words, he dipped his finger into his mouth and brought it out with a glob of saliva on it with which he used to draw a map on the wall.  Standing with her mouth open and tears forming in her eyes, Lori didn't know what to do.  She'd never had to encounter such unspeakable acts before and was as overwhelmed as a young girl could be.  She stood in the same place long after Big John had left the office watching as the clear liquid ran down the wall and hoping that she would wake up from this nightmare.
     Lori, by this point, as may be expected, was clearly uncomfortable in Big John's presence and reluctant to have anything to do with such a ghoul.  Consequently, when she was summoned by Big John one day to help him in the projection booth, she felt like she was facing her execution.  She entered the booth to see Big John shirtless and sweating.  He had been "fixing" a projector (which meant that he was breaking it into worse condition than it already was to begin with) and wanted to show her something.  The horror of that day still prevents Lori from recalling exactly what he wanted, but she'll never forget what happened next.  Wanting her to look through the small window from the projection booth into the window of the theater, Big John grabbed Lori and pulled her to him.  Her head ended up a few scant inches from his bare, hairy, stinky armpit (his arm being raised to move the curtain over the window).  Lori froze.  She couldn't think of anything but escape.  Mumbling in agreement to whatever Big John had been saying, she wrenched herself free.  Stumbling as fast as she could out of the booth, Lori could not prevent herself from watching as Big John took a paper towel (which he had been cleaning the inside of the projector with and which was covered in grease) and with it wiped his face clean of the sweat, thus smearing the grease all over his ghastly visage.  Big John's laughter as she ran away still rings in Little Lori's ears to this day.
     On a busy weekend night, Big John wreaked havoc.  He would try to help behind the concession stand, which every employee at the theater tried their hardest to prevent for hygienic reasons as well as for the fact that he was just a fumbling nuisance, though truly scary.  He would insist on checking that the projectors were working (after which they amazingly wouldn't be working as well) or he would offer to take the money drops to the bank every few hours (which they encouraged as it would mean he'd be away from the theater for short bursts of time).  Mostly Big John would cause confusion and disarray by quietly stalking around the lobby or uselessly hanging out in the office reading the paper.  One particular night Big John was doing these last two things intermittently and while Lori was in the office counting the money, he came in and declared he didn't feel good.  Ignoring him and hoping valiantly that he would go away, she was then subjected to the scariest sound in the world: retching.  She whirled around to see Big John throwing up all over the office floor.  The irony of this situation is that if he didn't feel good, Big John could have easily gone ten steps out of the office door and into the men's restroom which was directly across the hall to take care of his illness.  Instead, Big John, not trying to stop himself or trying to find a garbage can or even going any place better to vomit than the on the office floor, finished giving his contribution and got one of the concession workers to come into the office.  He threatened the poor child to haunt him forever if he did not clean up his vomit and departed without another word leaving a stinky office and a devastated employee cleaning up his sick.

"Somebody broke the..."

     Maybe one of the hardest things that Little Lori found in trying to accept Big John was his strange and unearthly ability to not comprehend basic life concepts; like how to be a parent.  Sad and frustrating memories come to Lori of a day she went to the theater to open it and was busy doing her morning office work with only Big John for a companion (this kept her very determinedly working and not engaging in conversation with her distressing harasser).  The office phone rang and Big John answered it.  The person on the other end of the line was the specter's very own wife (yes, he had a wife) and she was talking to him and asking questions.  Through Big John's end of the conversation Lori could hear that they were talking about their daughter, who at the time was around two years old, and that the conversation from his wife seemed to be littered with indignation.  Lori's hackles raised as realization dawned on her of the dire situation as she eaves dropped on this conversation.  Big John got off of the phone and said he was going home, which didn't surprise Little Lori at all; in fact she wanted to kick him in the backside to hurry him along on the way out.  Here's what had transpired that morning in their haunted residence.  Big John's wife left for work in the morning, leaving their daughter in her husband's care.  Big John, deciding that he didn't want to wake Stephanie up since she was sleeping so peacefully, left her on their bed, got in his car and headed to work.  Sweet Stephanie had been left alone- as in all by her toddler self- while her father came to work, sat on the couch in the office, read the paper, dug lint out of his belly button with some sad employees abandoned pen and had no intention of going back home anytime soon...that is until his wife called and shouted and cursed the spook after he told her where Stephanie still was.
     You may wonder, and rightly so, why it was that after so many haranguing occurrences it was so hard to get rid of this phantom that haunted the theater.  Rest assured, there were many times Lori and her coworkers gathered together in a seance, trying to communicate with corporate headquarters in order to get big John removed from their theater.  It took a lot of hard work, too much time and many exorcisms until they were finally successful and Big John left the theater never to return.  There were many a tear shed and many a light heart that day when he was banished forever and peace once again settled on the theater.
     The legend of Big John (for Big John did become a legend, at least in Little Lori's family) has been told over and over through the years.  There are always new listeners who for the first time experience the thrill and the chill of these queer stories and I would wager there are some who think these events to be lies or the product of an overactive imagination.  But I assure you that, though the horror has somewhat diminished and Lori can now look at those experiences with much more humor, they were quite real, and the feelings of drastic relief that such a malicious spirit has never crossed her path again have been a blessing to her even to this day.

Being a Chocolate Mom

     This blog is a bit difficult to write.  I know some people may be hurt by it.  Some will be offended by it or just not understand my feelings.  But since it's my blog and this is something I've thought about a lot over the of years, hopefully it will be cathartic for me to write about it.

     So it basically comes down to this, I'm an infertile stepmom.  I raise other people's children...not my own...and that's a difficult thing.  I know women who are stepmoms and I know women who are infertile, but I don't know many who are both.  Being an infertile stepmom is not for the fainthearted.  There are times I wish I was closer to others who belong to my same, rare species of woman so I'd have someone to understand my position better.

     Don't get me wrong, my husband, my mom, and some of my best friends (you know who you are) have been wonderfully supportive.  In fact, though some of my friends's lives are very different a few of them have been, at times, more supportive of my situation than anyone else.  These women have a great amount of empathy.

     But even though I do have wonderful support, it's still difficult at times for even those close to me to understand the scope of my day to day life.   Most of my infertile friends tend to feel a that I have children to mother.  And so do fertile women.  I admit my situation from the outside looks like I have a simply wonderful opportunity to care for and love children...which I guess is true.  But the awful truth is this...I have never felt like a mother.  Not truly.  Nor do I find it likely that it will change after 7 years of 'mothering'.

     Lyle's children were 6 and 8 when I met them.  Old enough that they didn't need constant physical care and young enough that they didn't automatically hate me.  I naively thought that I'd step right in and we'd have this wonderful bond and I would become their mother.  That never happened.  Now another young child has entered my life and I find myself in the same position all over again.  

     Let me reassure you, the kids and I DO have a bond.  We DO love each other.  But it's not how I thought I would feel.  It took me a while to realize that most likely I'd never have that bond that I was expecting for 2 reasons.  Number one, I never carried them in my body.  I never anticipated their arrival with excitement.  I never held them as babies and counted all their fingers and toes.  I never cooed over them as they were adorable, even when they cried and pooped all the time.  I never sat up with them when they were sick.  I never kissed their boo-boos.  When I entered their lives I was already behind.  I didn't have those bonds, those memories, those special moments with them.  So while we loved each other, there wasn't the SAME bond that sealed us as they had with their true mothers.  I assumed that would come.  There have been times that I felt a moment or two of a strong bond.  There are times I have cried myself sick over them, had a riot laughing and enjoying time with them.  And yet, I know that the way I feel about them is not the way their mother feels about them.  Which brings me to...

     Reason number two. they already have a mother.  This is the biggest obstacle that I've found to me truly feeling like a mother.  They already have someone who they DO share those moments and bonds with already.  They love their mothers.  They worry about their mothers.  They spend time with their mothers.  And their mothers love them and want to spend time with them and have those feelings back for them.  They don't need those bonds filled, because they already are filled...with someone else: their mother.  

     I have had many people criticize me for voicing my feelings on this subject.  I know saying it out loud bothers many people.  Some people love me and find it hard to relate to my situation, and don't particularly want to hear about it...they assume those bonds have/will/should have formed and think me hard that I tell the truth about my feelings.  Others, because they love me, feel sorry for me and don't want me to feel that way so they pretend that I do feel like a mom and don't want to hear otherwise.  The mothers of the children I've helped raise have in general been very grateful toward me, have cared for me and wanted to assume that those bonds would form (although they are fearful of that very thing happening as well, understandably) and have never NOT had those bonds, and so can't understand how I can not feel the same way.  I find very few people...very few...who have listened to me, put themselves in my shoes, understood that I DO love the kids while still comprehending that it doesn't automatically give me those feelings that a mother gets.  Very few who have been the shoulder I've needed to cry on during my very trying days, which have been many.

     I think I've done a decent job in trying to lovingly raise the children of other mothers.  I can truly say that I've done all I can do at any rate.  And I do recognize that I have a mothering role in these children's lives.  But being a KIND of mother to them is not the same as being THEIR mother.  I take care of these children day in and day out.  Making sure they shower, brush their teeth.  Show physical affection, listen to their problems, be emotionally supportive, make sure they do their homework, take them to scouts, fix them meals, go to their parent/teacher conferences, and not get upset with them when they get mad at me because I stick to my guns and follow the rules/consequences set in our house.  And yet, when something goes really right in these kids's lives, the first thing they say to me is, "I can't wait to tell my mom!"  I've done my best to put my fake smile on (some days it's even  a real one) and hand them my phone so they can call their mother and rejoice with her while I go on doing all the daily requirements I'm charged with doing, knowing that my approval really isn't that big a deal to them.  It IS important to them, just not as important as their mothers.  I TRULY don't resent them for this, how can I?  I have a mother who I adore and no one could ever take her place.  Why should they be any different?  I understand that.  I don't expect them to feel those feelings for me when they already have a mother to feel those things for.  But all the same, it hurts.  These are the only children I will ever have, but no matter what I do for them, even if it's things that their own mothers can't (for various circumstances, most of them not in their mother's control), and it's still not good enough.

     There have been few things that have hurt me so much as when one of these children have something drastic happen and need motherly love and comfort so I hold them and love them; they cling to me and allow me to pet them and sometimes calm them, and yet sometime during this encounter comes the dreaded words, "I want my mom."  I have to sit there calm (I can't fall apart like I want to when they need me to be strong) and apologize to them that I'm not her and that I understand, I assure them of their mother's love and promise to let them contact her as soon as possible.  I continue to fill their needs and help them while inside my heart is shattered into a hundred pieces.

     I hear every day about their mothers...the things they like, the things they do, their experiences with my kids, their good qualities, their weaknesses.  I listen to poems of how much they love their mothers, I listen to the traditions they have with their mothers.  I change plans in a heartbeat so their mothers can spend time with them.  I drive them to see their mothers, I call them on the phone and talk about the challenges the kids are currently having, with their mothers.  When their mothers and I disagree about something, most of the time my opinion goes by the wayside, not because their mothers don't care about my feelings, but because their mothers have more of a right than I do to decide what they need.  In a plethora of different ways, I'm reminded every SINGLE day of who their mothers are.  And I'm not them.

     Infertility has strengthened these feelings.  Heavenly Father has buried in my soul an intense desire to be a mother.  He has also taken away the physical requirements needed to become one.  It's been 6 1/2 years since Lyle and I started trying to have kids and without fail, every single thing I have done to have my own has failed.  Every single one.  I can't think of many people who have failed as thoroughly as I have.  And the feelings of inferiority, of jealousy, of unfairness, of unworthiness, have been compounded by the fact that I raise other people's children, take on their sufferings and sacrifice for them, and yet am regarded as 'less' by the children I care for because I'm not actually their mother.  As stated before, I certainly understand their feelings for their mothers and don't fault them for their natural feelings, nor their mothers for their feelings for their children, but truthfully those feelings that are so right and wonderful between the kids and their moms, are a true pain that I feel as a part of my every day life.  Isn't it funny, how truly good things can hurt so much?...

     Back to the topic.  I hope this makes a little more sense to people now.  Because frankly, people get angry with me for having a hard time on Mother's Day...after all, I AM a mother, right?  I've heard people be short with me for denying that I have the same feelings for the kids that their mothers do.  I've had people tell me I'm wrong when I tell them my feelings, my struggles, my longings to have children of my own.  After all, why should I need children when I HAVE children, right?  

     So here it is, I should just say what I DO feel like, shouldn't I?  I feel like a FAKE.  I'm not a REAL mom, I'm just pretend.  No matter how many people try to convince me that their point of view is correct and mine isn't...I still don't feel like a real mom.  

     It makes me think about Alex the lion in Madagacar 2.  He arrives in Africa and finds his family that he's been separated from for years.  A problem emerges: he's not the kind of lion that his father is, in fact he's not the same as any of the other lions there at all.  Instead of being tough, fighting and killing, he prefers dancing and performing, which he's done for the crowds at the Central Park Zoo for years.  In an effort to prove himself to his father, Alex and his friend Marty the zebra, go off the reservation to unclog a dam and restore water on the reserve for the animals.  On the way Alex tells Marty of his problem stating that he's doing it, "Because I want to show my dad that I'm a REAL lion."  To which Marty replies, "...as opposed to a...CHOCOLATE lion?"

     I remember laughing my head off at this line the first time I saw the movie.  I mean how ridiculous is Alex being?  Of course he's a REAL lion...he's just different from the others.  But his talents end up saving both him and his father in the end and his father comes to see him in a different light.  So what's the big deal, Alex?

     I kind of understand better now.  I don't feel like a real mom.  So if I'm not a real mom, what does that make me?  I guess a chocolate mom.  I don't have the same experiences, bonds, ideas or desires for the kids I care for as their mothers do.  But, I certainly do mother children.  I do the day to day things a mother does.  I do understand some of the things that mothers struggle with, even if I have no idea how they feel about the rest.

     I'm so confused.  I've been trying for years to figure it out.

     Here comes the real question (and my feelings for this subject are so deep that I'm actually having difficulty typing this sentence)...Could it be that I AM a real mom...I'm just a different kind of mom...even if it doesn't feel like I am?  Not the kind that others are, but something else...a mom for when natural moms can't be around...a mom whose good at loving other people's children...a mom who tries her best to treat the kids she cares for as if they ARE her own (at least the best she can since she doesn't really have any idea how a true mom feels). 

     I don't know the answer to any of those questions.  But I guess I don't really have to.

     I just have to keep fake mothering...chocolate mothering...the best I can and hope the Lord will fill in the gaps.  And hope that someday I'll be able to have those feelings that all the other mothers do...that I'll one day, even if it's not in this life, have the opportunity to have a child who DOES cry for me, who wants ME and not another woman, who helps me FEEL like I'm a real mom after all.  Maybe I'll understand better then than I do now how what I do for the kids I care for now really is mothering after all.     Maybe...?