She's a Corrections Officer
We first were introduced to her (by way of her dogs which is how most people who walk their dogs get introduced to one another; through their mutual interest in the animals, their own and those of others) about a year ago, during one of our daily ravine jaunts. We liked her immediately. Liked her dogs, too. Both of them rescue animals, both somewhat elderly; the dogs, that is. She had recently moved to our area from Thunder Bay. She hadn't much good to say about Thunder Bay, and really liked the Ottawa area.Not only the weather, she said. Inclement as Ottawa can be in our fairly harsh winters, Thunder Bay is that much more so, given its northern location. The way of life is much different there as well, rougher, you deal with a rougher crowd altogether. She was tired of it. She had been bogged down with her life and Thunder Bay, she felt, was part of her problem. She hadn't realized just how much of a problem it had been for her until she had moved, was able to evaluate the changes, and finally see how much she had detested her life there.
Never been married, she told us, but had plenty of relationships. She had a seventeen-year-old daughter, and was having problems with the girl. They had enjoyed a close, trusting and intimate relationship, until, it seemed to her, there had been a sudden, unexpected turnabout, and suddenly, it seemed, almost overnight, she had become her daughter's worst enemy in her daughter's estimation. As a single mother she had tried to do her best for her daughter. Part of her problem was realizing that she wanted a better, a more promising environment for her daughter, and for that reason alone she was satisfied with her decision to leave. Not her daughter, though, for she had left her friends behind, and missed them.
Our ravine friend is a feminine looking, very attractive woman. Sturdily built, but not overweight, really. She has dark hair, dark eyes, a wide face and a friendly smile. She seems relaxed in her personality, out front and unabashed about anything she says. She is 46, so we're 22 years her senior, both of us. Perhaps there's a parent/child element to our friendship. We don't even know her name, but that matters little. We like her, are glad to see her, and over the course of a year we've exchanged personal anecdotes, background material, hopes and disappointments.
Her two dogs surely say something about the character of their owner. They're both middling-sized Shepherd mixes. One is predominately black in colour, with long, rough hair, the other is a short-haired dog, with blonde hair. The blonde one has a very obvious inner-ear problem and its head turns crookedly at times. Both are innocent and sweet-seeming canines, friendly to the core. You almost imagine you can see their souls through their guileless, trusting eyes. They dote on their owner, trust her completely, for she has obviously given them a new lease on life, a life which must certainly have been a dire disappointment for the poor creatures until she came along.
When we speak with her of our daughter's intimacy misadventures with men, she laughs knowingly and always says it sounds like the story of her life. She too, she said, literally bounced from one worthless male to another. Finally, she said, she was in such a parlous state, feeling much as our daughter always did, that she desperately needed to have a man in her life for stability, for emotional support, that she began seeing a therapist. The treatment finally succeeded in persuading her that she could face life alone, with her child, and make do very well. And so it was for her for six years, living on her own with her daughter, and making a life for themselves. Then, she said, as though having dropped from nowhere, or heaven perhaps, she met a man who was far different from those she had known.
Her new boyfriend is different, she says. He's sensitive, kind and the most decent of beings. She can hardly believe she has this new intimate friend. It has made a huge difference in her life. He has two teen-age children too, but they live a fair distance away. They had spent the last week-end driving up to see them (I don't recall where she said they'd gone) in perfectly dreadful, seat-of-your-pants weather. We think he is also a Corrections Officer. Were glad for her. Her daughter, who back in mid-summer had left home to return to Thunder Bay in defiance of her mother is now back, living with them.
Her mother gets frequent calls from her daughter's school, whenever she goes missing for prolonged periods, when she is supposed to be at school. One of her teachers evidently told the girl that she is too intelligent to be wasting her time in high school; she should be in university where her intellect would face challenges. The trouble is, her mother said wryly, the teacher forgot to inform her impressionable, rebellious daughter that she has to get through high school, with a diploma, before she can make her way to university. They've had to set down rules, and they've had their computer set up so her daughter can only have access as a guest, cannot use MSN, cannot download anything. This has been her undoing in the past, we gather.
Her daughter's school friends come over to collect her in the morning, to haul her along to school with them. They aren't drop-outs, so she doesn't understand where her daughter's behaviour is coming from. In fact, she told us, another of her daughter's teachers had told her during a parent-teacher interview that her daughter had complained to her teacher that she herself does not understand why she behaves as she does, why she is so rebellious and resentful; it puzzles her.
Sometimes she discusses penal matters with us. It is her work, after all. She talks about some notorious cases where the protagonists are incarcerated in the facility where she works. She has a robust intelligence, and a sense of the rightness of things, of justice, and there are times when she finds our political correctness particularly galling. It's interesting to get some 'inside information' from a professional within the justice system so to speak, and not particularly encouraging, at that.
We're hoping for the best for her predicament with her daughter, who appears, she says, to be making mistakes similar in substance to the very ones that she herself made throughout her early life. She's hoping for better for her daughter. It's a heavy burden, being a parent, all the more so when one is serious about parenting, and the welfare of one's children.
posted by Pieface @ Tuesday, November 15, 2005
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