Chapter 4

I say wandering. The memories I have could fill volumes. And they are all there. In crystal clarity. And I sometimes wonder if this is a good thing? Or not?

My mom was a very religious person. My dad not so much. We would go to mass every Sunday.

Oh, and if you didn't realize, my elementary schools have a theme.

St. Rose of Lima. St. Bernadettes. Soon to be followed with St. Luke's and Immaculate Conception School.

Yes, my mom raised us in the Catholic church. I did not see it coming at age 9, but by the age of 14 I was finding reasons to rebel at much of this.

I jumped ahead. I go down that train of thought and do not mean to.

I feel relief to know that I have found the darkness. It really does open up a lot more for me in explaining how I was muddling along for the last many years.

Springfield, Virginia. I remember wanting to play little league baseball. But dad wasn't around very much and, until later in the year, my mom did not have a car. There was no way to get around even if I demanded it. LOL

I do know we were on the bowling team at St. Bernadette's that year. They would bus us to the bowling alley after school was finished on Thursdays.

I loved to bowl. I was good at it too. In later years I would get to nearly a 200/game average. I even shot a 279 in my adult years. Man I remember my legs were shaking when I was up in the 10th frame. And here I go again jumping in time. Sorry, I'll try to do this less. Bad mind, Bad Bad mind. Stop doing this to me!

I broke my first lunch box at St. B's.

It was a GI Joe lunch box. The glass lining in the thermos shattered when some bully knocked it out of my hand standing in the school yard.

I knew not to try drinking from it as I could hear the glass rolling around inside. Luckily I had a dime and could buy a milk carton at lunch time.

Everything was new. Our house was new. The development was still being built. I recall some early explorations in the homes being built down further from our street.

We would wander through when the workers had gone for the day. There were no protective fences to keep us out. Our battles and discoveries in far off lands took place in the shells of new homes. Some were completely open. Others had doors and windows. Most were in between.

It's a wonder none of us got seriously injured. We took risks but I think we knew deep down not to get too crazy in our endeavors. Mom had always said to think before you act.

I know in many ways that kept our bruises and scratches to a minimum.

My brother was 3 years older than I. My sister 4 years younger. Yet my brother would sometimes include me in his friends. We really got along well and I know he looked out for me.

That may have been guilt on his part.

My earliest memory from living here was my dad coming home. Someone had taken something. A hammer? It was missing. I knew I had nothing to do with it and said so. My brother jumped right in and said he had no idea either. Hmmm. Dad looked at me. Asked us if either of us was ready for a spanking. A spanking? What the heck was that? It had never happened before.

I learned quickly what a leather belt, on a bare behind, felt like. I think it was on the third swat that my brother broke down and confessed.

I remember crying. My mom consoling me. My brother crying. I do believe he got an extra swat for making me get spanked when he was the guilty one from the beginning.

I can laugh about this now. I remember, we were young teens, and I asked him about this. Oh did he remember it happening. He apologized once more.

I was a good little boy. I did not lie. I did not steal. I did not cheat. I was a proud individual with a grasp of good and bad. Right and wrong.

Oh wow was I ever so naive!