Joyanna Adams

Nobody's Opinion

How Long Does it Take? Maggots.

Nobody Remembers

I was watching a Supernatural Episode tonight. There was a scene in it that brought back strong memories of when I was a freshman in college. It’s pretty gross, so stop here, if you have ever been really sick with stomach flu.

The story goes that there was a witch’s coven. And they used hex bags to put a curse on this one man who was stepping out on his wife.  He was sitting in his car, and bit into a chicken sandwich, but then gagged, and looked down and there were maggots all over the sandwich.

All of us have been seeing ‘brainwashing’ being used so subtly in all our sitcoms and movies, you MIGHT have noticed a lot more scenes where somebody was throwing up. Puking big time. And it’s when you least expect it.  These scenes and the many “pee” scenes are being pushed onto the public on purpose, but we won’t go into that here.

It was my freshman year in college. Southwest Missouri State. I wanted to major in music, but I couldn’t even play an instrument. Well, I found out at registration, they said I couldn’t because I didn’t play an instrument.

Talk about naïve. I was so upset, so determined to take music courses, that I sat down in the middle of the registration room, and almost started crying. Hell, I might have been crying, I don’t remember. I suffered from depression all my life (not now) so that news was a total shock.

You mean, I CAN’T take music? My whole life disappeared before me.

Then my parents paid for all this for nothing? What else was I going to do with my life? Not to mention I was STILL mad at my best friend in high school who BEGGED me to go to this college so I’d be with her, and…..she ended up not going, costing my parents money they didn’t have.

Gee thanks.

Some man came over, got me off the ground, as fast as he could, and signed me up for Music theory, piano I, and vocal. I was ecstatic.

The piano and vocal lessons were easy, but I knew I needed help in Music theory, because I couldn’t read music. The last time I read music I was in grade school and playing the French Horn.

So, I asked this sweet girl whom I had met, and who was signing up along side me if she would help me in the course. Her name was Sarah. She was blond and looked just like a county bumpkin.

“Of course, I will” she said.

That night, she invited me over to dinner with her and her husband.

She cooked a whole chicken, and I was trying to be polite, so I took a BIG bite, in fact I almost ate the whole leg, before I looked down:

Maggots. Everywhere. All over the leg, ,,,,and I had devoured them.

Her husband did not touch it. And he asked her where she got the chicken.

“Oh, it’s been hanging in the barn for a while” she said.

You can guess what happened. I was renting a room upstairs in an old lady’s house, and the only bathroom was downstairs. I had stuff coming out both ends. The old lady was furious and made me go outside into the back yard, where I sat with a hose to wash off everything that was coming out of me for a good three hours.

I ate a LOT of maggots.

Well, after that, I knew I couldn’t go back to school, so I phoned my mom, told her I’d be driving the 4 hours home, and it was me and a brown paper bag all the way.

Now, here’s how naïve and innocent I was, and still am. Because I would never in my wildest dreams have believed that somebody would do that on purpose, I always thought it was just a mistake.

Only now, do I realize, she was a country girl, and even an 8-year-old would know not to serve a chicken from the barn, or even try to cook It, which means…she did it on purpose.

And by the way, she got an A in music theory, and she never helped me.

I managed to pull off a B all by myself.

When you grow up, sheltered from the storms, from corruption, from evil, you don’t suspect it from others….it’s not a good thing. Really.

And now, most of you were going, “Why didn’t you LOOK at it!”

Because I was too busy looking at her and thanking them both for inviting me. Ever the polite and grateful idiot.

Hopefully, NOBODY that reads this has ever had to bite into a chicken leg full of maggots.

Yep. The education of Joyanna Adams…continues until she dies. Better late than never.

At least it came to me FINALLY.

Thank you Supernatural.

Sarah, might have actually been…a witch…may she be hexed with the memory forever.

March 1, 2024 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , | 1 Comment

The Betrayal of Best Friends

Nobody Remembers

When it comes to betrayal, nothing hurts more than to be betrayed by your closest friend.

Many years ago, when I was in high school, I had a very dear friend named Shelly. She used to crack me up. She was beautiful. She had dark hair, and didn’t live very far from my house. But, our Senior year, her parents got divorced. So, she and her mom moved to L.A. while her dad stayed here, and remarried.

Shelly and I wrote each other every other week. She got a job quickly, and so, one summer, I went out to L.A. to stay with her. I remember we were both big Cardinal fans, and so we went to see the Dodgers Play the Cardinals at Dodgers stadium. I had a crush on Jack Clark at the time, and that day, he ran into home plate and practically destroyed the poor catcher. It was also that day that he looked up at me leaning over the railings, and asked me to come down and he would sign an autograph. He was warming up with Ozzie. We were WAY up in the top bleachers and Shelly kept saying we CAN go down there. I kept saying…no that’s for the rich people, but somehow, we got down there and Shelly took a picture of us, and he signed a baseball for me, which I still have that ball which said “God bless, Jack Clark.” Then he asked me if I could come to San Fransisco. Well, I said, I don’t know. BUT…Shelly gave him HER telephone number and later I found out that he did call her, and SHE told him I wasn’t interested. I believe she was trying to get in good with him. I don’t really know if she did.

Still, I would have NEVER done that to her. Never.

Later I found out he was married, so it’s a good thing I didn’t go. But that didn’t stop me from going to the games. Jack Clark was an amazing batter. I remember the first time I saw a home run in my lifetime, he hit it high up into the upper deck…and I was blown away by the sheer power. Jack Clark never took steroids. He was a big man. A great player. Unlike the steroid use after the big baseball strike, Jack Clark was the real thing.

Now, did I ever forgive Shelly? Yeah, she ended up becoming a prostitute in L.A. and dying of a cancerous brain tumor at the age of 47. She grew up in the area of cold-water creeks, where the military dumped the radioactive waste from the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima. Josh Hawley, is trying to get money for all the poor people who died from exposure to the waste, which is still here of course. But, it’s too late for Shelly.

Even though Jack and I never got together, I never missed a game. And the game of baseball is much like life. If played without ‘rigging’ you can see a lot of comparison to life. You can hit a home run. Or strike out game after game. Most games are like that, and the people that get hooked on them…can cry when the season is over. They must go back to their dreary lives.

We just watched the Superbowl…and stupid me, since I don’t follow sports, assumed that Taylor and her super stud boyfriend were with San Francisco, that town being VERY liberal, as we all know that Taylor is a big Biden fan. No, Taylor was jumping up and down for Kansas to win. You would have thought she was the coach.

The game was fun, but clearly, they can rig any sport nowadays, and like a script, nobody realizes it. Sports have been rigged for years. Just like elections. There too much money in it. Not all of them of course, but the money making ones.

But I’m getting off theme.

Whenever I think of those days in the 1985’s, when the Cardinals went on to win the World series, I realized I was just a lonely woman. My mother felt sorry for me and said, “Why don’t you go to the ball games, maybe you’ll meet somebody.”

The only man I actually met was Jack. The rest of them would come up and speak. “We have a bet going, me and guys…how old are you?” And I always said “56.” I was much younger of course but really, moms advise was…needless to say…really off. She had good intentions.

My current husband had the same thing happened to him. He was on a mission with the Seals when he came home and found out his wife was sleeping with his best friend.

And I wonder…how many people in this world have been betrayed by their best friend?

So, can you trust anybody? Can you trust your best friend?

If you find someone you can trust, better hold to them. They are diamonds in the mud.

Besides, I didn’t know it then, but lots of ball players mess around on the road, and they have loving wives and kids at home.

But when I think back on those days I think of the song “The Boys of Summer.”

And I watched the boys play. What else did I have to do? No body would ask me out. At least I had something to do.

And when they were gone, the winter always came hard.

And then Spring always comes back eternal…doesn’t it?

And spring for most of human history has been hope for a new beginning..no matter what.

February 12, 2024 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , | 1 Comment

Medusa At the Prom

Nobody Cares

Last week, I went to get my haircut. I don’t get it cut often, but by luck I found a place that actually knows how to care for long hair.

My hairdresser has two daughters, and she was telling me about her youngest one. She’s 17. Mom doesn’t quite know what to do with her. You see mom, married her high school sweetheart. Which means, mom never had to deal with much heartache when it came to men.

She said her daughter was horribly depressed because she keeps finding boyfriends, who break up with her and she cries like the world is ending. Mom is at a loss to know what to do. I told her, I was the same way when I was her age…longing for my true love. And deeply hurt every time some guy left. She showed me her picture: Very pretty girl.

I thought of MY poor mother and what she had to go through with me.

I’m setting this up for a memory. You see, I’m getting to the age now, when I’m looking back on my life and all it’s sorrows and happiness, my failures, my successes, and thinking to myself: I don’t think anyone has had the life you’ve had. Not many. So many tears…and what for?

Like my senior prom night. My parents I knew really wanted me to experience that passage of age, an age where mom and dad can buy the dress, tell their daughter how beautiful she looks, take the pictures…and watch her go out, hoping she has a wonderful time, dancing in the arms of someone she likes. Being with her friends.

Uh…mine didn’t exactly go that way. First, nobody asked me. Story of my life. I guess, men were scared of me for some unknown reason to myself at the time. It was 1970. The country was booming. My mother took me out and bought me a beautiful dress, because you see, I didn’t want to disappoint her. I told her, someone had asked me out.

It was a lie.

The night was approaching and what was I do to? I didn’t want to disappoint my parents.

There was only one guy in the high school that I had a sort of crush on. Why? He looked like Bob Dylan, only Bob Dylan was better looking. He never paid too much attention to me. I ALWAYS had a weak spot for the ‘intelligent’ guy, because I was a book worm and I THOUGHT the smart guys had answers I could not find in books.

That’s what an idiot I was. But I was always searching for answers…to everything. Just simple curiosity.

That has never gone away. When I can’t read, I go a bit nuts.

Finally, a day from the prom, I got the nerve up to ask this guy. (I can’t even remember his name) if he would take me to the prom. I told him my situation. Much to my surprise, he agreed.

He came to the door, old suit and tie, and didn’t even come in. My parents missed their “photo’ opportunity. We got in his car and I thanked him. He suggested, instead of going to the prom we go over to his house. What was I going to say? I wasn’t scared of him. He was all of 120 pounds.

When we got to his house, there were about 20 guys there. They all started drinking beer, talking and laughing, and there I was, just sitting there on his couch. All dressed up. They all had dirty old jeans on. They ALL ignored me. Finally, he came over and gave me a pill.

“Want to drop some acid?” He asked. Well, I had never tried that before. It was popular at the time. So, I said, “Okay.” Beats sitting here. After a while, I watched the guys making talk over some motorcycle, I was soooo bored, so I went downstairs into the basement of the house.

And then, the acid hit me. The room became one big nightmare. Floor disappearing, furniture looking huge, like Alice in Wonderland. I started to panic. I was scared. And the worst part of it was, I went into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and I was…Medusa.

My long hair had become a vast bundle of slithering, snakes, weaving and thrashing about my head.

Good god. I was a monster.

I started screaming. Loudly. I fell on the basement floor. Kicking. Screaming.

I remember a bunch of guys ran down the stairs. I remember looking up at about ten young boys, trying to hold me down. Trying to calm me. Talking to me with great care.

On the good side, at least they didn’t do anything but try to help me.

I finally fell asleep. The boy woke me up.

Took me home. We didn’t say much on the way back.

When I walked in the door, my parents asked, “Well, did you have good time?”

‘Oh, yes! Yes! It was really great mom!”

And then I went to bed.

Now the emptiness you feel from such a nightmare, and at my age, I see, that I’m still that young woman. Like my hairdresser’s daughter. So sad inside.

WHY? Why would any young woman feel so needy that she would long so much for love?

Too much estrogen? Bad brain cells? Or…as I look back. No father?

My father was absent from my life. I think it was because I was “pretty” that he never told me I was. Never hugged me. Never told me to look for the true love. Never told me about boys or men at all.

So, Dad’s out there. If you have a daughter, and she’s pretty. Don’t be afraid to talk to her. Pretty girls are just as hungry for love as the ugly ones. In fact, it’s all about the love of a dad.

It wasn’t my dad’s fault. I don’t blame him. I was just SO full of hormones and silly ideas of love. I had read too many books.

What ever happened to …I’m pretty sure now that I think of it, his name was Harry.

Poor Harry. I’m sure he didn’t quite know what to do with me either.

He was nice enough to go along with the scam. And to his credit, he could have hurt me.

He didn’t.

We went back to ignoring each other.

So, what do I do with myself now? That same longing is still inside me. But hey.

NOBODY PERFECT. Life is not perfect. Everyone has a cross to bear. Some have more than one.

I am…and remain…a total mess. LOL. And I can live with that.

Because…you never know. Maybe some day I’ll go to the prom.

(She laughs.)

But hey let’s end on a good note to this strange life…there are ups and downs….

I got to see my son have the BEST prom moment ever, take a really pretty girl out, and I got the picture to treasure forever…there is a God after all.

Isn’t he handsome? Wasn’t she pretty? ah…youth.

January 27, 2024 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , | Leave a comment