Chapter 2

Weird ... When you sleep you are unconscious, so when you wake up it only seems minutes later from when you went to sleep. I remember the fire, and the strange breathing phenomena, but I don’t remember passing out. Maybe this is a coma? I am conscious with no access to my senses, if I blank my mind everything is just empty. Maybe I died and this is my afterlife, only my memories to keep me company ... I can definitely tell how this could be heaven or hell for some people. Problem is with that thought is if someone was sick and twisted they wouldn’t feel bad for the negative things they did, that would be a dilemma. On the same note if someone was sick and twisted the opposite way, extremely emphatic would be one way I guess, they would feel guilt and fault where there shouldn’t be any and would be tortured with it. This is definitely a conundrum. I wasn’t a perfect person, but I realize no one is perfect and mistakes are just the way we learn. So I had my bad spells, as well as things I am proud of in my life, but that’s just it, I don’t consider this hell or heaven, I am indifferent to my past at this point, it just is.

My earliest memory is me sitting on hardwood floors somewhere. I remember it being daylight, but not bright where I was, I also remember the glare of the sun off the floor around the corner. I think it was kinda like a pantry or walk in closet except it had two doors. Maybe the living room on one side and the dining room on the other, I am not really sure. I remember there being shelves, and having lots of toys around me. I remember playing with my poop, no idea why.

My next memory is of a giant butterfly, and it held me down on a table. I was told later that I was chasing my brother around the house in socks and apparently I slipped on the floor and busted my head on the corner of a wall. That giant butterfly was a Velcro device used at the children’s hospital to hold me down while I got stitches.

Being forty years old, I can honestly say that most of my childhood is a blur. I am not sure if that is because I had attention deficit disorder, or if that is just how children’s memories are. I didn’t do a whole lot of thinking in those years, I just reacted to my environment when I wasn’t ignoring it and in my own little world.

My saving grace during that period in my life was my grandmother Irene, for some reason unknown to me, she adopted me, and supported me in any way she could. She would pull me out of my own little world and get me focused on things around me. In those early days it was Dallas parties where she baked a cake and we sat around eating sweets while we watched Dallas and Falcon Crest on Friday nights. She would also take me to garage sales on Friday and Saturday mornings where we would shop for deals. She collected a lot of things, but her largest collection was salt and pepper shakers, she had over 10,000 pairs. She collected old dolls, china, teapots, spoons, Avon, and all kinds of misc things. Grandpa did the usual guns, but he would also look for bikes, tools, and old toys. They had an RV full of stuff, and they would pack it up and a trailer and go to the flea market and setup tables and sell the things they bought at yard sales. She would also buy old clothes if they were a good deal, and something else we did while watching Dallas was trace out patterns in cloth and cut them out. She would make quilts with all the different pieces and sell them at the flea market too.

My father was a preacher in those early years. He only did it as a living once that I remember, and that was when we lived in Kentucky. The rest of the time we would travel around to different churches and he would substitute while a church tried to find a permanent one. The things I remember most about those times is being extremely careful to not let ice cream drip on my Sunday clothes, and eating Sugar Daddy’s, a giant piece of hard caramel that would keep me busy for hours trying to eat it.

I remember hating shots at the doctor, and throwing fits so they had to give up and give me pills instead. Of course I got my ass beat when I got home and that hurt a whole lot more then getting a shot. I got my ass beat a lot during those times. My mother used a switch, essentially a fresh cut green branch, fresh so it was bendy, and she could just hold one of my arms, and with a flick of the wrist she would stripe up my legs. Dad was a belt kinda guy, you know the slow dramatic unbuckling of the belt to put the fear of god into you. Worse, he would have me grab my ankles, and if I moved to much or stood up before he finished he would start over.

My mother grew up on a farm in Mississippi with 8 brothers and sisters. My father grew up on a farm in Kentucky with 6 brothers and sisters until about 4th grade when they moved to Ohio so the oldest could play basketball. So sweet tea and tuna salad sandwiches was a staple in our house.

I went through the phases all kids go through when they are young. I started fires, I would steal stuff, I would fight with my brother, everything all kids go through in those years. Before I graduated high school, I had lived 12 different places, and went to 19 different schools. Mom and dad didn’t spend time with us, they were always busy with work, and my brother was to much older then me to enjoy being around me. Because of all these things I learned to be self reliant, meaning I played alone mostly, and always had it to fall back on if things got hostile, which they did frequently.

So being a loner, switching schools and moving all the time, never left much time for friends to develop. I was chubby growing up, in my own little world, so I was the class pariah, fat and smelly with kids pointing and laughing. This further pushed me into my own world. The greatest example I can think of was 3rd grade in Kentucky; My school desk was in the back of class behind a book shelf or filing cabinet, where I wouldn’t bother other students. I got swats in front of the class every time I missed an assignment or was to loud, so at least once a day ... I spent most of my time under my desk playing with my pens, pencils, and anything else I had. I really hated that school. The school I came from was in the CAPE district, and had 2 PE classes a day, the first was strictly tumbling, the other was a standard PE where you learned games and such.

One thing that definitely comes to mind about Kentucky is my mothers mother, Grammy Brents. She had to be the meanest lady there ever was. Later on I heard she was running a foster home at that plantation and got in trouble for abusing the kids ... I believed it right away from my personal history with her. It all came to a head because she wouldn’t let me hide, and would seek me out to torment me with whatever she thought was so important. She bounced around between all her kids homes living with each one for 6 months or so. Anyway, the head thing ... I eventually had enough and wouldn’t let her spank me anymore and hit her back if she tried. I got my ass seriously beat when the parentals got home, but she never touched me again after that day.

Anyway, this attitude carried on for years. Being the pariah I did anything for positive attention, typically getting in trouble for it, and doing the bare minimum to get by in school. One thing I can testify too, is every school I went to I got into at least one fight. Someone always had to test out the new guy to see where he stood in the pecking order.

At home it was always the same, do your chores, and hide. It got to the point where I was so used to spankings that I really didn’t care anymore, yeah they hurt, but who cares, I was going to get one for some reason or the other, I might as well do what I want anyway ... so I did. Mom was working at the Post Office at this time during the night, and Dad was working for GM during the day. Probably the second longest we ever lived anywhere was Mason Ohio for little over 2 years. I got there at the end of 3rd grade, and we left at the beginning of 6th. Mrs Reem was my 4th grade teacher, and Mr O’del was my 5th grade teacher. I really liked him, he would play the guitar for us and such. Something noteworthy ... I copied the way he signed his J and use it to this day in my own signature. Between 3rd and 4th grade I met the local kids, it started out fine, but like everything and everywhere else I became a target of abuse and avoided them from that point on.

I ran away from home the first time in this time period. I was probably in 4th grade or so, missed the bus on purpose, loaded up my backpack with a little food and took off on my bike. My destination was my grandmas house in Morrow Ohio, about a 30-40 minute drive away on country highways. I had been there so many times that I had memorized the way, and was confident I could make it. I made it all the way to Hwy 22 in Landen, and was a straight shot to Morrow from there, but some nosy cop picked me up and wouldn’t let me go. That didn’t go over well. I skipped school for a week once to under my bed. I had books to read, and snuck food from the kitchen, that didn’t go over well either.

I remember there being a big blowout between mom and dad. Apparently he was recording the phone calls and he caught mom having a conversation with her boyfriend at work. He tried to play it for us and mom would rip out the tape deck so he couldn’t. Needless to say we moved again, this time we moved to down to Bartlett TN, a suburb of Memphis. We moved right down the street from where my aunt lived at the time which was both good and bad ... oh and dad left for a job in Egypt. I started out in public school, I think I was there 2 weeks before I was suspended. I wasn’t even there long enough to get in a fight. You have to say ‘yes mam’ and ‘no mam’ or it was considered talking back and showing disrespect. I actually got a swat everyday I was there because I kept forgetting to say it correctly. So I was pulled out of public school and put in a private school called Harding Academy, a christian school, but at least I didn’t get a swat everyday. I think I actually finished 6th grade there before we moved again.

Apparently mom phoned dad during this time, and a woman picked up the phone. She told us kids that dad had remarried over there, so she filed for divorce. I was old enough to have a say so in where I lived, and told the truth. I told them I wanted to live with my dad in Egypt, but since that it was unlikely to be able to leave the country, I wanted to live with my grand parents on my fathers side, anywhere but live with my mom ... so my mom got custody. Oh, cant forget, that even before she filed for divorce her boyfriend from the Post Office had driven down to spend time with her. Jim was his name, and he was divorced and had custody of his 3 kids. When he came down he brought Missy and Brian down with him. I ran away again during this time, had quite the chase from Jim’s kids Brian and Missy but they couldn’t catch me ... I was motivated. I lasted a day before the cops picked me up and brought me back. That went well...

So I moved back to Ohio to live in Jim’s house with his 3 kids. I ended up bunking with his youngest Brian who was about a year older then me. He lived in Westwood, a suburb of Cincinnati, and we lived on Schaffer road. Across the street behind the house is a park, and across the park is Gamble junior high where I went to 7th and 8th grade.

This was an important time in my life for several reasons. I learned how crazy my mom truly was. I learned that life was not fair, and inherently cruel most of the time. Lastly, I learned that girls are very confusing.

In 7th grade I was still the fat pariah I have always been. I met the first girl I kissed in 2nd grade though, when I went to North Fairemount Elementary. Christina was her name, and she recognized me immediately too. Problem was I was still the fat pariah and she was gorgeous for someone her age. We immediately started passing notes and she even kissed me again. Everything was going great for a few weeks then she got sick and went home early, and I never saw her again. Her friend, Krystal Ross, felt sorry for me and we started talking. Krystal was a big girl, and tall too, and never had to worry about being a prom queen, but was a really nice person. She told me Christina just had a miscarriage, that the only reason she was being nice to me was to have sex with me so she could say the baby was mine. As appalled as I was, the only thing I heard was that I missed having sex with her. Apparently she was one messed up little girl, she already had one kid given up for adoption, and this was her 5th or 6th miscarriage in the last 2 years. Remember she was the same age as I was and I was in 7th grade.

That summer I had a growth spurt and started playing football. I was never a great player, but I showed up and did what I was told. I started out at center but due to not being able to focus to snap the ball I was moved to the defensive line, I liked that a lot more. More importantly I wasn’t fat and since this was a public school, I was one of the few white guys on the team. The head cheer leader noticed me. Annie was her name. Long story short we did ‘go out’ as much as 8th graders could. It didn’t work out, she was confusing, and I moved away.

We moved to the other side of town to the Bridgetown Township, still part of Cincinnati sort of, just on the rich side of town. Again I had my single fight, and lost, but gained respect because I didn’t back down from the ‘badass’ of school. I played football again, still not any good, oh and I wrestled too. I don’t remember any girlfriends from school during this time period. Which is probably a good thing.

During this time at home we weren’t allowed to do anything outside of a job or school sports unless it had to do with church. Luckily the church had a very active youth program, and the youth minister had the patience of a god.

We lived in a new house in a new subdivision ... By new I mean our house was the only one on our street when we moved in, and they had 2 others started. My parents had just filed bankruptcy, and worked out some kind of deal with the builder to live there. It was a nice house, but the yard was terrible. The front yard went up to the road at a not to steep angle to walk, but too steep to actually enjoy. The back yard ended about three meters behind the back door, and then went steeply in to the forest for about 5 meters before leveling out to a normal woods area, and a creek about 20 meters behind that. That back yard became the bane of mine and my brothers existence. Being a new subdivision, or at least a new 3 streets to an existing one, everything was bull dozed and level for houses, and about a block away was a giant pile of “top soil” bigger then our house.

So any time it was warm enough, summers and weekends, my brother and I were always “grounded” and so instead of sitting in the house we had to take the wheel barrow and a couple shovels and move dirt from the big pile to our back yard. I swear prisoners doing manual labor had an easier time then we did in our house. The only exception was if we had a job, school activity, or a church thing. So obviously we volunteered for church activities as much as possible.

I may be getting too detailed here, so long story short, we really enjoyed our time at church with the youth group, not moving dirt around. They did all kinds of things ... bowling, witnessing, helping the neighborhood, hanging out, traveling to orphanages and helping them out ... too many really to list them all. One important thing that happened at church is I met my future wife their, Bekca, no that is not a misspelling. She didn’t participate with the youth group much, but she started too a little after I met her. Her father was a minister for deaf people, probably because one of his sons was deaf, but I’m not sure when it all started ... That would be weird if he was a minister for deaf people before he had a deaf son...

So getting back to school, as I said I wrestled and played football, wasn’t great at either but I was good enough to not get benched. I wrestled at 172 lbs, which wasn’t difficult to maintain. I worked out a lot, was semi-buff, but mostly I kept to myself in my own little world. Since I wasn’t allowed to socialize after school with anyone not in the church I saw no real reason to invest any time in these people. Sure there some very attractive girls at school, Jade Wesely comes to mind, she sat in front of me in homeroom since it was done alphabetically, but since she didn’t goto our church there wasn’t any real reason to try and impress her, so mostly I slept through homeroom ... plus her boyfriend was on the football team, and that wouldn’t be cool to chat her up.

The only person that ever tried to bring me out of my shell was our head coach, Klotz I think his name was. He nicknamed me wizard on the field, which carried over in the class he taught, history. I always knew the answer he wanted when he called on me, and I enjoyed reading the backfield to try and figure out how the play was developing in the game. I played cornerback, which means I wasn’t big/aggressive enough to play lime backer, but too big and slow to play safety. Like I said, I wasn’t great at football, no chance of a scholarship.

I still had attention deficit disorder. My focuses changed with whatever piqued my interest. For a while it was Bekca, then she got grounded (I am always grounded), so the interest moved to Kenda a girl from another church I met at Bible Bowl that I took to Prom. She was black, not my first black girlfriend, but definitely the strangest ... She was actually a racist ... against black people ... figure that one out. ( well it was new for me at the time). She was fun, we had a good time, but our backgrounds were so different I feel now like I had trouble connecting with her emotionally. We petted some but I am pretty sure we didn’t have sex.

I skipped a pretty important event in my life. I was always running away from home off and on, at least a couple times a year. I remember once I spent a couple weeks in the woods behind my house, the woods connected to a farm and then there was more woods. I cant remember which time I ran away that I ended up at the Lighthouse, a place for abused kids. Anyway, while I was there I got introduced to pot for my first time. It wasn’t long after I had a job and played with it some more. Not much further after that I had Saturday school, I forget why, probably for being late to school, but there was pot there too. I had pretty much given up trying to appease my parental units a long time ago and just tried to stay out of there line of sight. Not much time later I had to go to truancy court, at the court house, and speak to a magistrate.

Well ... when we went in, my mother went off the handle on me complaining to the judge about everything I had done since I was old enough to walk. The way she said it though it was as if I had did it all yesterday. Granted I wasn’t a great kid, but I wasn’t bad either, I went through all the trials all children go through ... Fire, stealing, beating the dog, porn, pot, not doing chores, cutting my own hair ... all the normal things children have to experience and grow out of. The way she said it though with the vehemence that only my crazy mother can conjure up, like I was an out of control criminal she could barely keep out of jail for the benefit of the community, well it really struck a cord with the judge. His only response was ‘Why don’t you kick him out?’ ... This floored my mom, and she started back pedaling, I mean if she kicked me out, who would she beat when she had the notion? Who would she get to cook and clean so all she had to do was goto work ... She was in a major dilemma, so she responded the only way she knew how... ‘Well if I kicked him out I would still be responsible for him, and at least at home I can try to keep his nonsense in check.’ The judge disagreed saying that he could emancipate me so she wouldn’t be responsible. Then he looked at me and asked if I wanted to be emancipated and leave home ... I responded the only way I knew how, this was a dream come true. ‘Oh HELL yeah, please please please.’ He looked at my mother and said ‘Done’ ... I will never forget the look of shock on my mothers face ... I am smiling now as I write about it. She cried the whole way home. I m not sure if it was because she lost her slave, or because she started to realize what she did, but for all the torture she put me through the years, I had no sympathy.

I never told you about my mother yet. She is one crazy sick person. I must have went through almost a dozen psychologist growing up. It didn’t take them long to figure out I was normal reacting to my surroundings, then they would talk to mom, and then we would never be back and goto a different one. I didn’t find out until years later that the reason was because they told her that she was the problem and tried to setup counseling for her, needless to say she didn’t like that idea.

I mentioned I was in bunk beds back in Cincinnati. I woke up several times getting beat with a switch because the clothes my mother wanted to wear to work wasn’t clean and in her closet. Waking up to a switch puts you immediately in the flight mode of fight or flight, and backed up against the wall cowering in the corner trying to grab a anything for protection from the switch is very dramatic. Another time I remember getting beat was after running away from home in Memphis and the cops bring me back. I had to take off my pants and underwear and lay over the edge of the bed while she switched me. Those are just a few times of many to give you an idea what I lived with. Needless to say I stayed away and out of her line of sight as much as possible.

The best way to describe her is to imagine the perfect preacher’s wife at church (true story), social, smiling, humble, conservative ... Then in the car on the way home she frequently cursed us out for not singing loud enough, or other nonsense she thought was important that day. When we got home we would get beat for whatever infraction she deemed deserved it. Worse part was that Jim got cowed into it too ... He wanted to be supportive of his new/future wife which meant he lost all independent thought and judgment and proceeded to help her ... The only good thing about that is he used a paddle and 3 licks with the paddle per infraction was it, no endless switching until the switch broke or her arm got tired. But it caused all kinds of trouble with his own kids who weren’t used to this kind situation my mother required for self justification.

I did my best with Brian and Missy telling them to stay away from her and keep a low profile, Missy got it, but Brian had a bit of a temper and him and my mom seemed to feed off each other until there was an explosion. It was great for me because when he was in her sights I was invisible. Ok good for me in a bad way. It was worse when she targeted Missy because Brian was protective of her and another explosion would incur. My half brother Brian, for here on out referred to as Brian C had went back to Mason to live with a friend to finish High School, so he wasn’t there for the most of it. That left Jim’s oldest, Jimmie who did his own thing and didn’t give a shit about us, Me, Brian F and Missy in the house.

Jimmie moved out not long after we moved in. Missy joined the marines as soon as she graduated to get away. Brian F went to a vocational school and moved out the first day he could, and of course you know I got kick ed out half way through the last semester of my senior year.

I moved in with my best friend, Clint had an apartment with a friend, can’t remember his name. I tried to stay in the same school, but the bike ride was twice as long as my old house to school, and after a week I new it wasn’t going to work ... I called my grandma, and through her talked to my dad. His solution was to bring me to Egypt and put me in school there. I was game since I had been there before to visit him and had a good time. So I stayed with Clint for a few months until I got my passport ... I had to trade my mother my keyboard for my birth certificate, the bitch ... I was always musically inclined, and I could sit for hours just playing the keyboard ... Anyway.

Egypt didn’t work out, my Dad’s contract didn’t get renewed, among other problems (another story altogether), so before the summer was done I was back in my Gramma’s house and I enrolled myself in the local High School. I Only needed 1 credit to graduate, so I ended up going to the county vocational school for half days the first semester only, so I could work the rest of the time.

I had a couple local girlfriends, lost my virginity, while still dating Bekca and visiting Kenda in Cincinnati. It was a little over an hour drive back and forth but I was working, had bought a shitty car, and was fairly independent.

When I finally graduated, Bekca came up and went with me, as well as the rest of the family. It was a big thing for me, it meant I had the one thing I needed to goto the Army which my mother has sidetracked for a year.

The Army was my goal for a long time, specifically the Army Rangers. In fact I wouldn’t leave Mepps until I had a contract to tryout for the rangers, anything else was unacceptable. Don’t get me wrong they lied to me and tried to wheel and deal with me to accept another contract, but I was bound and determined to tryout for the best. Eventually after sitting around for hours they realized I wouldn’t change my mind and gave me what I wanted.

Before going to basic training you have to get ‘in-processed’ in the army. This is the place you see in the movies where you get shots, haircut, work out your finances, fill out a will, life insurance ... everything a grownup has to do but a child never even considers. You also had to pass a basic fitness test, essentially you had to be able to run, and do push-ups and sit-ups. Yes there were people their that couldn’t do those things and were ‘holdovers’ until they could for X amount of time before they were sent back home.

Basic training was very ... basic ... how to dress, how to groom yourself, how to walk, stand, and do exercise. The hardest things about basic training for me was keeping a straight face to keep from laughing while someone was getting yelled at, and standing for hours on end looking straight ahead without drawing attention to myself. The drill sergeants got very creative with there yelling and it became harder and harder to keep a straight face ... and push-ups ensued.

Getting along with each other became a big deal for some people. Not everyone is cut out for military life. We had about 12 people go AWOL, run away, from our platoon, only a few of them I was glad to see go. We had a blanket party once ... we had an ex state wrestling champion, so he said, that refused to participate in our chores or follow direction from those assigned over him. So six people grabbed a blanket and pinned him to the bed while the rest of us hit him with things like bars of soap in a sock or just punched him. It was all very organized and quiet except for his whimpering. He went on sick call the next morning, and got put on light duty profile for a week or two, but he began to be a team player, and was one of the better graduates after all was said and done.

The first time I held a rifle and fired at the range I qualified, I thought it was all very simple but of course there were a few that had difficulty and had to go back again and again because the couldn’t hit the required number of targets in the given amount of time. There were also a few that had difficulty passing the fitness test, or keep up with the group on the road march.

I had been writing Bekca during basic. Clint helped me out and got Bekca to write back. She must have been upset with me, and I can only figure that she must have found out about Kenda. Clint smoothed it over for me enough for her to write back, and she and her gramma, who lived in Georgia, were coming down for my graduation. Graduation was a lot of marching and standing around, looking pretty, trying not to pass out in the Georgia sun. Bekca and I reconnected on my 3 day pass, and we had a great time.

Airborne school was next, where you learned how to jump out of airplanes with a parachute. We did the ‘Airborne Shuffle’ for 5 miles once a week, it was slower then a jog, and of a torture then exercise. I actually got out of shape in Airborne school in comparison to Basic. We jumped off 5 ft high platforms so we could learn how to fall. We jumped out of towers and slid down a line so we could learn how to exit an aircraft. Finally when we did the real thing, it all went as planned, and I didn’t get hurt. Strangely enough I am deathly afraid of heights, so much so, I had difficulty on the obstacle course due to my fears. Jumping out of an airplane though was so organized that you literally just followed the guy in front of you so that fear never came up. The last contributing factor to my lack of fear while jumping was the harness. It was so tight and uncomfortable, and the seating arrangements so uncomfortable (painful), that I would literally almost do anything to get out of the harness, and the fastest way was to jump.

One weekend in Airborne school we went to the local fair/carnival. Ward, don’t know his first name, and I went together. We hung out together frequently and I considered him a friend. Somehow he got his car there, it was a mustang I think, anyway we went to the fair and just fucked off trying to fill the free time. We saw another guy from our class in Airborne school their, I think his name was Poe, and he wanted us to go to a ‘party’ where there would be hot chicks, beer, etc, and of course that Ward would drive us was the obvious intent. He even warned us that he was trying to hookup with one particular chick, so we wouldn’t be hitting on ‘his girl. Ward and I were interested, couldn’t be worse then the fair, or going back to the barracks, so we agreed.