My Life Version 1.0

I am told over and over again that I should write my life story.  I don't know why people want this of me, really.   I am just me.  I have always been what I am, just different varieties of me. However, for the sake of posterity (I really don't know what that means, but it sounds poetic)... I am writing my life.  But be known to all that read herin... I will NEVER let the truth dampen a good story... So this is my INTERPRETATION of events, past and present (and possibly non-existing).

I was born a princess.

OK - I was not a REAL princess.  Not the kind with jewels and a throne and all that, but I was the princess of my domain.   I was born the only daughter to a doting father, loving mother and 7 older brothers that believed the sun rose and set on my ....    Well, you get the picture.

I wasn't spoiled in the bratty sense.  I was only given what I asked for.   I just knew what I could and couldn't ask for.   After watching the older ones long enough, you learn what you can push and what you cant.  The youngest 2 of the Devine clan were quite wise in their judgment and disciplined in their desires.  We dreamed of the best and brand new, but enjoyed life with the mediocre and hand-me-down.   Our family spanned 2 decades of men.  I didn't really know my oldest brothers until my late teen years. (but that's a chapter all it's own).   I loved Cat Stevens, and the Monkeys....  Watched the Original Star Trek... and Next Generation. I knew every word of every Niel Diamond song when all my friends were fawning for Michael Jackson.
I loved Fred Astaire movies, and John Wayne was my icon.  I grew up timeless...  I believed in everything, wanted nothing, and was certain that my brothers created and ran the entire world.   Of course, my daddy carried it on his shoulders.

This bubble was near perfect.  Until my dear brother Dennis passed away.  He was born with heart issues.... issues that would later play a significant role in my life.   Denny was my confidant, my story teller, my smile when I skinned my knee.  He taught me how to keep baseball stats on the Cubs, and how to do play by play for the Chicago Blackhawks (thats hockey gal's).  We kept ants.  Ok... we tortured ants.   We caused great battles between different breeds of ant.  Black vs red, carpenter vs. worker.   We would dig until we captured the queen and then watched the drones panic.   He would tell me how this was life.
         How I was a queen.  How I could direct the world with the gifts that I have. How I was why dad worked so hard, and when he came home why he just wanted a hug, and a song.   Why mom wanted me in the kitchen doing dishes with her, just listening to her talk.  Why my brothers all wanted me to "come and see" whatever it was they were doing.  Why even the older ones would take me with them and show me off wherever they went.  I never really understood what he meant then.

I never realized that when I sang... everyone sang.
That the right hand of my father at the dinner table was MY SPOT.
  I was the ant queen.  But, it wouldn't be for years that I realized this.  When I could only hear the impression of his thoughts and not the actual words he spoke.  When I was faced with leaving.  That was when I understood.   I was the center of our house.

 I tried to be like other girls.  I wanted to be Daisy Duke, but could drive more like Bo...   Got my first Motorcycle when I was 8. . . First high heels at 10.  Was told to act like a girl . . . but bragged about by my brothers as tougher than any boy my age.  I played war, but they made me be a medic.     I loved football, but wanted my clothes to be pretty.  I wore makeup to my volleyball games, and even took time outs to re apply the proper amount of mascara.  I was the Tom-Girl... you would say.

Now, the #1 Question I get, Why do I cook.
Did it start in my childhood?  It is true...I loved to pretend to feed everyone.  I made sand food.   Not like mud pies.. like actual concrete sand food.  "contractor's daughter"   Dad built me a sand box  10' wide...  Ok it was his sand for work but I got to use it whenever I wanted.  He put an old oven and refridgerator on the side of the house,  said it was junk for him to haul off.. but we all knew it was for me to play with.   We cooked for hours.   I pulled greens, red berries from the bushes, elephant ears for plates, straw, sand, and mud for cakes.
My mom thinks this is why I ended up cooking for a living for so long.  I dis-agree.  I cook for people because I love people.  I love to see them eat and talk to each other. It is what I saw every Sunday at my house growing up.  I cook because she did.  I loved the days that the missionary's or Pastoral Candidates came over for dinner.  We cleaned all day on Saturday.  She prepared her favorite meals. Meatloaf, Ham, Macaroni and cheese with tomato's, Mashed Potato's, Fresh Green Beans, .. but oh - the Fried Chicken.. (fried chicken - I can't do - but wow could mom do it right)   Not to mention her banana pudding with a merangue.!  I loved that stuff!  And we ate, and ate, and ate... and shared so many things.

 I loved being on the right side of dad, the best conversation was what he half muffled.  Usually some sarcastic comment on how much food the Pastor was shoveling down. This ended in Mom laughing so loud the fan blades shook.  The Wife asking mom's secret recipe, some boys headding down to toss a baseball,  A dog begging food, a missionary kid being mean to one of my cats,  the Husband eating all dad's pecans (death in our house), and eventually, somehow, we all nap in front of the TV with Capt. James T Kirk trying to emote.  These are the moments that shaped me. Listening to my Dad and Mom entertain.  Watching people become enraptured with their wit and, well let's face it, beauty.  They were, and are, beautiful people.  Inside first, then the exterior is noticed.  They make you feel good just being around them.  (well if your not "in the family" - We Devine's tell each other how it is and do NOT hold back)
They have a way of making you feel at home, no matter how far away that home may be.
This is my inspiration in life.  This is who I am.  This is what I want to be.  A light in the darkness.  A moment of joy for people who stumble across my path.   But lately ....    It seems all I do is cause the stumble... and make people mad.

Next Blog.