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Part 2 / Chapter One ⥈ New Baby

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  “when the journey is broken, no one is on the right road”, Pentti Saarikoski      We always had music on in our house, especially before we got our first TV.   Johnny Mathis, Frank Sinatra, The Ink Spots, Ella Fitzgerald belted out songs from mom’s large collection of 78’s. Mom’s favourite singer was Peggy Lee and I can still see mom and dad dancing to “Fever” in our living room, on a Saturday evening. The way they moved to the music ignited my first awareness of them being more than my parents. Still very young, I didn’t know what is was called, but I sensed a mysterious feeling, an intense love connection was expressed in that dance.      Mom and my brother usually met me at the edge of the school field after morning kindergarten ended. The weather was changing from winter to spring and it was the first day I was allowed to wear only my shoes to school, without galloshes over top. My feet felt so light. We still had our warm coats on, but Mom ...
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PART 2

  PART 2 There is no exact known cause of schizophrenia. Theories suggest a   complex interaction between   genetic predisposition, early life   trauma, complications at birth   or maternal complications, substance use, or possible   imbalance in brain chemistry
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Part 1 / Chapter Seven ⥈ The Power of the Gods

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  " I saw the angel in the marble and  carved until I set him free."  — Michelangelo      Dr. Ian Ballinger sat in the corner of his beige office in his unbuttoned white coat. His hands were frozen in mid-air as my mother, standing, shouted at my father.       "YOU don't have a clue. Do you know how she feels about this?"       Then she turned on one foot, stabbing her finger at the doctor. "YOU are not telling us the whole story. She's given you her answer."      "Calm down." my father said. "She's not improving; we're just trying to come up with a plan." The tension set an unusual high pitch to his voice.      This incited my mother even more. "We don’t need a PLAN. Karen has told us what she wants."      "LISTEN for once and SIT DOWN," my father ordered. "Let's give the doctor a chance."      Sitting on the edge of the chair, my mother glared at both of th...
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Part 1 / Chapter Six ⥈ Into the Depths

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       At dinner one night my young son announced "Mama, I know boys and girls don't usually do this, but I love Polly you know."      Smiling, I replied "Oh, boys and girls do feel like that. When I was six I loved a boy named James. He gave me one of his hamsters."      "At snack time Polly and I hug each other," he giggled bashfully.      "You must like each being near each other."      "Well actually," he said "Polly hugs me. Then I hug her back. You and daddy love each other, right?"      I hesitated briefly as I looked at his beautiful, innocent face. "Yes. Yes, we do."      I was now the mother of two, my son aged four and a half and his new baby sister just one month old, born in Warwickshire, England. We were living here on a fellowship with Daniel working toward his doctorate at the University of Warwick. I was taking a year out. In one sense it was a true gift to be a...
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Part 1 / Chapter Five ⥈ Explorers

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Karen 1976 Nobody living can ever stop me As I go walking my freedom highway Nobody living can make me turn back This land was made for you and me —Woody Guthrie                   A couple of the guys at my housing residence planned to drive across Canada in a Return-Your-Car program. I asked to go along and arranged to bring my now fifteen-year-old sister. Once in Montreal we could return to our old stomping grounds, and visit old friends. It would also give our mom several weeks free from parenting, and both my sister and I some time away from our mom.   We set off in a top-end, elegant black 1974 New Yorker Brougham in the first week of July, 1976. My sister and I had certainly never been inside such a deluxe vehicle. We’d driven west, across Canada from Quebec, a couple of times with our parents, brother, german shepherd dog and our cat in a 1958 Chevy Impala with a rust hole in the floor under the carpet behind the driver’s sea...
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Part 1 / Chapter Four ⥈ Waves of Change

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            But let's go back to 1957 for a little while, as my siblings begin to arrive. My mother licked her finger and ran the wet finger around my milk-stained mouth. She then took my hand and we walked up a set of stone stairs to the house and knocked on the blue door. I was wearing a dress, a cardigan and my little white sandals, so I knew this must be important business. Dad was behind us holding GiGi, my little stuffed lamb. She’d been my playmate during the long, long drive. Every morning when we woke up, there was more driving. The blue door suddenly opened and when the tall man inside saw us, his face broke into a grin, causing a line to run down each cheek from his eyes all the way to his chin. He called over his shoulder, “They’re here!”   “This is grandma’s brother”, my mother announced. “Uncle Drum.”   Uncle Drum knelt down, taking GiGi from dad’s hands and placing the little lamb in my arms. “I see you brought your special...
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