Sunday, April 26, 2015

"Not Even a Pole from Dad..." from KIDNAPPED TWICE


Throughout my entire life I only asked my father for one thing, which was long after he and Ann were divorced. I was in the process of moving my mobile home to the piece of land that I had purchased, and I needed a pole for the electric line. My father worked for the utilities company, so I thought he would be able to get me a telephone pole, which I would pay for, of course. He said no! I had to get the pole through the help of someone else.


I remember only two times in my life that my father said anything kind to me. The first was in the telephone call where he stated that I had a lot of crosses to bear. The second ended with his being upset. I had been visiting Anita [his third wife] and my father. I was leaving and we were standing outside. For some reason, my father made the statement that I was the only one who would mow the lawn. (He meant when we were with Ann.) I made the statement that if I was mowing, I wasn't being beaten. He said, “Are you saying you were afraid of me?”

I answered, “Yes, I was afraid of you!” This was incredible to me! My father shook his head, showing that he was upset with me.

As I looked at his wife, Anita, I realized how hard it would be for him to tell her of his betrayal of me. Is it possible he had backed himself into a corner? How dare I speak the truth! Did he really keep all the horror hidden all those years, or did he truly believe that it was OK?

I never got over that day. I can see it in my memory as if it happened only yesterday. All I can think is that he had no shame for what he had done to me! He had no remorse, no justification, no standing up and taking responsibility for the abuse. For a very long time it made me very sad, then angry, and now accepting– accepting that no parents could both love their children and abuse them!


My fourth full-time job started the nightmare that a lot of women go through. By that time I was a single mom, supporting myself and my son. It was not easy to quit a job. My first job’s manager had been interested in having a romantic relationship with me. I was not interested, which made it very uncomfortable. My second job’s manager presented the same problem. Ditto for my third job’s manager, who was also making nasty comments that finally caused me to quit and find another job.

The fourth job developed a different problem. My boss, who was also the owner of the company, was engaged to be married. Although I never had a conversation with her, his fiancĂ©e did not want me working with her soon-to-be husband. I was very “nicely” let go! By the way, just for the record, that marriage did not make it.

My fifth job was with the Police Department. There were a few minor “romantic” problems, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

My job after this one was the absolute worst! The manager would not understand that “NO” means “NO!“ It was a daily battle that was terrible. This is the job my partner of that time, Bruce, asked me to get for his girlfriend, Lori, after I left. Of course, the fact that Lori was his girlfriend only came out later.

During all this time I was also taking care of my partner’s fuel oil business books.

The job following this one was with a scientific company owned by one man. Right from the beginning it became a challenge. I think it was during my second week there that he told me that there was a pool party for employees at his home that evening after work. He asked me to go. I went home to get myself ready for the pool party and went to what I thought was to be a party with many employees attending. It was just me!

At this pool party he had a strange conversation with me, telling me I should take him up on his offer to fool around because it would be a boost for my career. I did not, but I stayed at the job. He would “hit on me” every now and again, but I sometimes think that he enjoyed having me tell him off. I had hired Susie to work with me at this job. We both worked very hard on assisting a spin-off company he wanted to expand. I was still also working at the Police Department, but only part-time.

Susie got fed up one day, as he had pushed her to the edge. She came to my office and told me what happened and that she was walking out. We walked out together and never went back.


The company I worked for after the birth of my son and for some years thereafter was a well-known oil company. It was a place almost every farmer in the area patronized. I was the office manager, which involved the bookkeeping and all the record-keeping. There was a gas pump outside and a warehouse with different oils and greases. Most of the time, when a farmer would pull up to the gas pump, I would go out and pump his gas and talk to him. If he needed oil or grease, I would show him where they were. This, under normal circumstances, would not be important. One day it did.

Every Sunday, weather permitting, a group of us would get together to play softball and bring food to eat later on in the evening. It was a fun time for all. As I was sitting one evening, balancing my plate, a little girl walked up to me and asked me if my name was Mary Markonic. I said it was. She then said that I was a very bad lady. I asked her why she thought I was a bad person. She said because her mother said so! By this time, her mother and father were trying to hush her up and were pulling her away from me. The father was telling her to apologize to me. I told him that his wife and he owed me an apology, not their child. By now everyone was standing up trying to calm the situation.

I went to the wife and I asked her why she would tell her little girl such a thing. She said it was because she was sick of her husband‘s telling her she should wear her hair like mine, she should dress like me, and how pretty I was. I was infuriated to think that a grown married man would say these things, which his little girl would never forget, nor would I. I was upset about it then. I still am today.

I waited until that farmer came to get oil. I asked him why he would do such a thing. He laughed and said he was just trying to get his wife to be jealous. I do not remember what I said, but I‘m sure he does. Years later, I did the farm payroll for his brother, and we spoke about it. Not surprisingly, the farmer and his wife got divorced, but I still wonder if that little girl grew up thinking that I was a bad person.

We are serializing the memoir KIDNAPPED TWICE written by Mary E. Seaman and me, published by Outskirts Press and available from OP as well as from on-line booksellers like and Theme is slow recovery from tough childhood.

My other web site is

No comments:

Post a Comment