This letter is specifically addressed to a second-cousin, Joe Rico, 3rd of Chester, PA., Joanne Harris of Baltimore, MD and Shirley Harris of Trainer, PA. Where do I begin? Hmm. Good question. Well, I currently face some very tough decisions. Just a little history on my problem. In 2005 I had a slip and fall accident and in 2006 I was involved in a motor vehicle accident in 2006; resulting in various injuries. Going from being a caregiver to being an injured caregiver is what I faced. It's a problem that can effect caregivers. What happens when the caregiver - due to injuries - is no longer able to be the caregiver? What happens to the caregiver who doesn't have the financial resources to fall back on when this dilemma arises? Too often people who become caregivers for a parent(s), get overlooked. No one considers the discrimination a caregiver faces at work - from a manager - or the toll this role takes on their ability to save for the caregiver's future. Too often caregivers put their lives on hold in order to provide care for a family member. It's from this perspective that I'm speaking out.
Joe, I am just now getting around to disavowing you, even though your words and actions have shown you already disavowed me long before now. Several years ago I was living with my mother, in an environment that was so toxic and I turned to you seeking your help and advice. I wasn't asking for any financial help. I only asked if you would talk to my mother and reason with her to see that I was trying to work with her. But, while I was doing my best to help - willing to compromise - I did have my breaking point. Quite frankly, I stayed too long, endured too much. Living with a woman whose method of communication was shouting at me; frequently berating me. Dealing with the uncertainty of what mood she was in at any given moment. A woman who didn't know what it was to compromise; having to have her way most of the time. A woman who would resort to lying in order to get her way. A woman who never accepted responsibility for her own actions. A woman who'd - hypocritically - go to her religious service on a Sunday morning and raise hell the rest of the day; once she was home, behind closed doors.
A woman who only paid for the 2nd mortgage she took out in 1987 when I was in high school. A payment which was approximately, $300/month. That is the only thing she'd pay for, but then again it was her loan. A loan which she defaulted on and you paid $23,000.00 to settle the debt and you now hold the deed to this property. I could never save an emergency fund because the bulk of household expenses came out of my pocket. The oil bill - for heat from late Autumn to late Spring - ran anywhere from $375-$390 per month. In Summer, it was the electric bill to keep cool in the sweltering heat and paying for maintenance of the front and backyard. Other expenses that came out of my pocket included co-pays for her many medical visits, co-pays for medications, hair appointments, food/cleaning supplies for the house, electric, cable/internet, etc.
One example of my mother's lack of compromise is when it came to shopping for groceries. She wanted yogurt and I'd put Stonyfield yogurt in the cart. Stonyfield - at the time - cost $3.99 per carton, but she insisted on having to have Chobani which cost $5.99 per carton. And to make matters worse, she wanted, not one, but two cartons of Chobani yogurt. If I didn't get two cartons of Chobani yogurt for her, she'd go on a tirade, directed at me. My mother was also great for coming up just as the cashier was close to finishing scanning the items I'd put on the conveyor belt and putting other items up for the cashier to add. These items were usually things she wanted, they were not needs. I'm not even going to re-live all the erratic behavior and the expletive-filled invective my mother would direct at me. But, I looked to you, Joe, Joanne and Shirley. I looked to you and implored all of you to try and reason with my mother. I thought she would listen to one of you since you all grew up together. I was wrong to think that any of you cared about family. I was living with her and so it was on me to deal; I'm guessing this is how you reasoned on the matter. Your collective inaction is beyond the pale. But Joe, in hindsight, I really don't know what the hell I was thinking. When it came to the hardwood floor person - John - you recommended, creeping me out by leaving all sorts of messages on my answering machine and flowers on the porch, you did nothing.
Nothing, except, to say John was probably 'high' when he did these things which are reminiscent of a stalker. When a neighbor from across the street came up on the porch, ranting and making me feel threatened, you did what you do best Joe; make excuses. Your excuse for this neighbor - who you knew because he frequented your bar/lounge - was he probably was drunk. You made excuses for the behavior of these men towards me. Maybe, Joe, you wrote me off as a woman making much ado about nothing. Joe, I came to you thinking that - as family - you'd help. Joe, you want family members to look to you as some patriarch. Well, there's more to being the patriarch of a family, than just calling yourself a patriarch.
