Those who fail to comprehend the bizarre behavior of my mother (Lucille Tyson) may profit from a good example that just happened to come to my mind.

My mother has two step-sisters that came in as a result of her mother’s remarriage after the death of her first husband. While growing up, my mother used to delight to talk about how strange Wanda and Harriet were. I don’t know why or how it happened, but Wanda’s fate was to end up working at Bob Jones University (This was apparently Wanda’s sole redeeming quality in my mother’s eyes). As long as she was single, my mother would always discuss the possible explanations for why Wanda hadn’t married. She’d ridicule her for how long she took to put makeup on and how “mousey” she was.

Then she got married. Naturally, my mother held this man in disdain, primarily because of his inclination to travel frequently on hunting trips, leaving Wanda at home. My mother always despised hunters anyway. Then I remember when the kids came. My mother’s mother and husband (Wanda’s father) traveled frequently to visit the grandkids (yes, you’re right, something my mother never would do for her grandchildren, but I digress). Anyway, my mother would get these stories about Wanda’s child-rearing techniques that, according to my mother, amounted to letting the young’uns to run wild and to sleep where they just happened to fall asleep. I can’t quite capture the hyperbole, but if you listened to my mother, you’d think these children were brute beasts with a negligent mother. Now, let me be very clear, I never knew any fact that would back up my mother’s habitual railing on Wanda, her husband and her children. In fact, I know my mother said the things that she did because she despised a family that wasn’t ordered after her own. Of course, my mother never said these things to Wanda’s face: she only said them to her mother, and around our family.

So with this background, fast forward to years ago when my mother and father (like a whole butt-load of other northerners) moved to Greenville, South Carolina. I can’t really imagine anyone wanting to retire in South Carolina, but hey… Northerners are always a little difficult to understand.

Anyway, shortly after my parents moved here, they were actually speaking to me. My children and I saw them quite a bit, so can you imagine my shock when my mother started talking about how great Wanda’s children are. I was always bewildered that these children whom she had despised years ago now were the greatest thing since sliced bread. In fact, the way she talked (which could easily be more lies) she was treating them like normal people would treat their own grandchildren. DAWG. Maybe I’ll write about that another time. One thing that I supposed was that the fact that those children were enrolled at Bob Jones Academy lent some sort of legitimacy to them - especially when talking to me, a Bob Jones excapee - and also allowed her to be on the campus of Bob Jones University more often. But still - even with a semblance of legitimacy - I remember thinking that she probably trash-talks them to her husband in manner similar to her earlier years.

And yes, I am aware that my mother trash-talked my and my children as soon as we left in just the same manner she trash-talked Wanda and her children as soon as the visit was over. Like I said, I might right about that perverse conduct later on.

So the way my mother (Lucille Tyson) operates is that when she is with you, Wanda, or any other person, she behaves as if she likes them and that everything is OK. Then as soon as she is away from the people in question, she berates them, mocks them, ridicules them and otherwise demeans them. She did not care that she was doing it in front of her children either. Growing up with this kind of wacky behavior presents definite challenges to children. I can’t tell you how many people I hated just because of the things my mother said about them. I was there growing up. I know what she is.

Does this sound like a “Christian?” No!

The most frequent family-related question I get is, “Is your brother, Bryan Tyson gay?” With the people who know how wacky my family is, I suppose they are not surprised by the way Bryan Tyson acts. But let’s face it: it seems like a lot of people think he looks gay, he walks gay, and acts gay. I understand where they get that from because I’ve seen what they see. Now, that Bob Jones University harbors many gay and lesbian people is not exactly a well kept secret here in Greenville, SC. Everyone knows that. Then of course there’s that marriage thing.

You should all be aware that such a thing exists as a married gay man (also a married lesbian woman), so marital status is not a reliable indicator. In fact, I know that Bryan Tyson was supposed to get married at least two times and both those times the marriage was sacked by his mother (Lucille Tyson). In fact my mother (Lucille Tyson) tried to sack my marriage as well, but by that time I had done something neither Bryan Tyson nor my father (Ronald Tyson) were able to do: Grow enough balls to stand up to her!

So to me the “jury is out.” The truth is that I don’t really care whether Bryan Tyson is gay or not! Like a good “Christian” (Pardon the sarcasm, but “brotherly love” is supposed to be a characteristic of a Christian, so what does that make him?) he won’t speak to his brother at all. When I see him he walks past me as if he doesn’t know me and as if he doesn’t hear me. That’s because Bryan Tyson is afraid to speak to his own brother because of how his mother would react if she found out that he did.

So, sure, by the way he looks, the way he acts, the way he walks, the way he talks, by where he lives (Bob Jones University), and how he definitely doesn’t seem to have a strong attraction to women, I could say that maybe perhaps Bryan Tyson is gay. But then again, maybe not. Who knows?

When my mother was serving on town council in Piscataway, she publicly exhibited her nature in this New York Times article:

“I found out about it when I picked up the newspaper,” said Lucille Tyson, a Piscataway Township Councilwoman. “I was outraged. As a township official, I was not even contacted by any official from the sports authority to ask how the residents of this town would feel.”

Ms. Tyson said spending $25 million on rebuilding the stadium when students at Rutgers were fighting to keep tuition costs affordable was both arrogant and unnecessary.

“Rutgers stadium is never filled, even on homecoming,” Ms. Tyson said. “Yet they want to double the capacity when they can’t even fill the stadium they’ve got. They should be using taxpayer dollars to provide better education instead.”

It’s amazing how that one who had for decades hated and despised Rutgers (and never attended a football game even though the stadium was less than a mile away from our house) knew so much detail about usage at the stadium. Regardless, this statement embodies my mother: Outrage.

I don’t know what happened to her to make her so hostile of those who differed in values, in opinion, in appearance, or in behavior. Something went horribly wrong in her life to have such bitter strong feelings against virtually everyone. How many billions of times was she “outraged” at what other people had done. This “outrage” was often focused upon her children over whom she sought to exercise total control for life.

Unfortunately, this outrage impacted my life growing up. Like her, I hated everyone. Like her, I thought that everyone should conform to my viewpoint. This bitter outlook on people negatively affected my relationships for most of my youth and young adulthood.  I was probably close to 30 when I realized my ways and how that my mother’s influence crippled me socially. I had to deliberately set forth to train myself to respect others’ opinions, values, beliefs, and qualities. No longer would I seek to force others to conform to my opinion of what they should be. I found great liberty in accepting other people for who they are and not judging them based on my views which may themselves be flawed.

Most of the readers of this blog are aware that I occasionally have problems keeping those errant thought patterns in check. Actually, I may never be completely “over” my mother’s personality as it was impressed upon my life. I want to be “over” it, and with God’s grace, I will overcome the “outrage” that was instilled in me.

To the best of my knowledge, my brother continues to be in bondage to the outrage of our mother. Those for whom she has expressed “outrage” are equally outrageous to him. Once a person was declared outrageous by her, he dutifully would banish that person from his life. This happened to those he intended to marry, to his potential friends, and to his own brother. What a shame.

I’m so glad that I have overcome the “outrage” of my mother.

My mother always seemed to be either a pathological liar or one who resides in an alternate reality. This alternate reality was apparently fueled by her bizarre concept of religion and her idolization of Bob Jones University. I never quite understood how this condition began, but here I mention just a few things she lied about:

1. My mother lied about church attendance. For some reason, she felt compelled to tell people that she and her family were attending church. Sometimes she would volunteer this information and other times she would respond to inquiries. She would say that we were attending church, but we rarely ever attended church at all. She didn’t care that her children were there to witness her lies: she just lied, acting as if the lies were the truth.

Does she still lie about church? Probably. She hasn’t changed in any other way, so I don’t know why she would just happen to become honest about church.

2. Somewhat related to #1, my mother completed my brother’s application (Bryan Tyson) to Bob Jones University (BJU). The application included a required description of his conversion experience as well as a letter from his pastor. She completely fabicated both of these in his name. For the pastoral letter, she used the name of Rev. Cowen who was formerly the pastor at New Durham Chapel in Piscataway. We had visited there for a while at some point in my childhood, but at the time of the forgery he had been long gone, and we were not attending there at all.

What about my application? Yes, she made up these things for me too. I don’t know what pastor she faked on my application and I don’t know what kind of conversion experience she concocted either.

See, while growing up, my family didn’t really attend church regularly, but my mother was so bent on ruining our lives by forcing us to go to Bob Jones University, that she must have felt compelled to lie about these things and to even fabricate a pastoral recommendation!

3. She lied about television. Oh yes, she bragged to a lot of people that we didn’t have a television. In fact, she wrote a story for the defunct “Faith for the Family” magazine that told the story of how our old television broke and how that her husband decided (it was actually she that decided) to forgo replacing it. If you do the right search, you can find that story on the net (Click HERE).

Reality is that we did go some time without a television, but there were things she wanted to watch, so she bought a small portable TV from K-Mart and would stick it in the closet if someone was expected to come over. Through the process of time, she just left the television out, but she would continue to lie about not having one.

4. She lied about her marriage. If you’ve ever listened to her talk about her marriage, you probably heard her talk about the romance that is still alive after a billion years. Now those who loved with her (like me) knew that very little in the way of romance existed. She would frequently take my father out into the garage to give him a “talkin’ to” concerning whatever she happened to be angry about at the time. She treated him like a slave and talked to him like he was dirt. Some of this was my father’s fault for not standing up to one who was emotionally and mentally abusing him, but a lot of it was her fault too.

What always bothered me is that she - knowing that I knew about all the things she lied about - would have the audacity to complain about my lies. Seemed very hypocritical to me.

I suppose everyone has some deficiencies from childhood: I am aware of that. Recently I’ve read Dr. Laura’s book entitled “Bad Childhood, Good Life.” In this book, Dr. Laura shares with the reader some valuable insights into how to get your childhood experiences into perspective and how to deal with parents that hurt you.

I think the best part of the book is the part dealing with “letting go,” “closure,” and “resilience.” I have come to face with the realization that these people will always be the way they are. For me to sit around thinking of the feelings, the emotions, the connections, and the experiences I have missed with them is something that has kept me discouraged, hurt, sad, and even afraid for my entire adulthood. Too bad acknowledging this and dealing with it has taken so much of my life. It’s over now and I am moving on!

This book has helped me a lot to help me find healing from the feelings I have concerning my parents, and I am going to share with you my experiences. Hopefully, we all will find that for the remainder of my life I will have an exceptional and successful life that is free from the legacy of my childhood experiences.

Before I go, let me give you the lyrics to my new theme song, “One Last Chance,” by James Morrison:

James Morrison One Last Chance Lyrics

In my life I don’t mean much to anyone
I’ve lost my way can’t go back anymore
Once I had everything now it’s gone
Don’t tell me again coz I’ve heard it all before

Some people say that i’m not worth it
I’ve made mistakes but nobody’s perfect
Guess I’ll give it a try

I’ve got one last chance to get myself together
I can’t lose no more time it’s now or never and I’ll try to remember who I used to be
I’ve got one last chance to get myself together

The time has come for me to change again
I can’t carry on like this, I will lose my friends - don’t say that you have given up on me. Just give me the time and space to heal my head

I don’t wanna be misunderstood
I’ve got to take this chance and make it into something good