Envy, and a July 26, 1987 note (partial)

Linda's house felt large and threadbare. It was clean and tidy, but the years had left the bare boards looking weathered and worn down. It had been built many decades ago, but had never had any updates to the interior. I dropped by her place to pick her up so we could drive about 45 minutes to a mall that included one of my favorite targets of sarcasm, "Big Lots." Linda didn't have a car or much money so these sojourns were a good way for us to spend some time together without breaking either of our small banks.

Linda's hair was black and nearly straight. She usually had it cut it into a mid-length bob and wore jeans  and a polyester shirt in a plain color. She was of average weight, but she fretted about her "thunder thighs" and told me that she feared she'd have the thick, wavy legs that she saw on her mother. She was well-groomed, but quite plain. This was in contrast to me who, at that time, wore elaborate make-up and dressed to the nines.

As we made the long trek to the mall, Linda said something no one had ever said to me before and I have not heard since. She said, "I was jealous of you when we were kids." Since I had grown up poor, fat, bullied, and abused, I was stunned to hear her say this. As a fellow child of an alcoholic who knew my circumstances better than any other outsider, I couldn't fathom what would compel her to feel that way.

When I asked her why, she told me that my mother was always "so nice" and that she was always buying my sister and me things. It was true. On a material level, my mother did go over the top for us. She not only bought a great many toys and other items during my childhood, but when I was older and became a KISS fan, she'd march into record shops and ask them to hand over free promotional items. I was too embarrassed to ask, but she was incredibly bold. However, she did emotionally abuse her children until their sense of self-worth was reduced to nothing. I told Linda that the face my mother showed her was not the only one she possessed, but I could tell that she didn't believe me.

Linda told me that her mother had also expressed envy of my mother and this further shocked me. My parents fought all the time and my dad frequently stormed out of the house after arguments and hung around in bars until late at night. She told me that her mother felt that way because my dad was on disability whereas her family was on welfare. They got less money from entitlements than we did and had to live with the indignity of food stamps. Her father also sometimes physically abused her mother whereas my parents limited their abuse to words.

My conversation with Linda opened up a window on a perspective that had been tightly shut before. As bad as my life circumstances were, there were still others who had it worse. The level of hardship I endured was a matter of perspective. Since Linda wasn't bullied daily at school and could be average and invisible, I always saw her as better off than me, but she saw me as smarter, better loved, and more materially wealthy than her. Both of our views were informed by incompleteness though. She only saw my advantages and I only saw hers.

I had more fun with Linda in my childhood than any other friend and I tried to carry on that relationship into my adult life. Our infrequent trips to "Big Lots" and other types of shopping stopped when she had a baby and didn't have time to venture into the world with me anymore. By the time Tito came into my life, Linda had largely exited it so she is rarely mentioned in any of my correspondence with him, but "Big Lots," which I connected with spending time with her, was still there.