Chapter 4

I feel a rush of emotions. I can picture many of the people I have met in my lifetime. Some I liked. Some I fell "in love" with. Some I could do without. I really was a happy child in many regards. I could make friends easily. I was a really good listener. I was the shoulder to cry on for some of them.

And yet, I can see the detachment from my little perch in my mind. I would make friends, but in so many ways I would not "keep" them as I knew they would move on and so would I. It may have been the 'moving away' that we all had done so much of.

I can see the pain I felt when we had to move out of our apartment late in 1977. Sorry, I know I'm jumping again but this one is really hard to keep away from.

I had graduated High School in June. 1977. I was all set to start college in the fall. Then our landlord sent notification that they were going to renovate the house/apartment we were living in. We would need to move out by the end of the summer.

I can remember the anger I had that they could so randomly do this to us. We had been living here for 5 years and it felt like they had pulled the rug out from under my feet.

I can see in my mind that my brother had graduated High School in 1974. He had moved out of our home in 1975. I think it was that year.

You can see I'm avoiding 1972 through 1977 at this moment. I know I will revist this time frame so I can stay on track if you will.

Mom had a plan. She was looking in the newspapers (no internet at this time!) each day to find another home for us. I can picture my sister and I doing the same. The fall back plan was to move back in with my grandparents. Into their basement. The trains were no longer there. They had been removed in one of the intervening years.

And, since we could not find anything by the deadline to move out, we moved into their basement right before I started my freshman year of college.

I know this was traumatic for me. I do not think I ever visited the feelings that it generated for my sister. I know it had to be hard sharing a basement with mom and brother. She was a 14 year old girl/woman and I think I can see partitions in the area we 'lived' in. The basement had been finished and there was a rug on the floor. There was heat in the winter. I can see us walking up the two flights of stairs to take showers. I'm guessing I would bring my change of clothes with me. I cannot envision going back down the stairs in only a towel.

I recall thinking (many times over the years) that I should have lived on campus. So many other kids did so. I think there was an underlying fear of leaving my mom and sister and perhaps losing them like I had so many others. Damn, there is so much underlying pain and anger and guilt about so much of this.

I remember my dad was supposed to come visit us. I can picture the three of us waiting impatiently for him to come to the door. Each car that entered the driveway into our little apartment area would have us running to look out the window. Countless times we went through this pain. Mom would track him down on the phone. Then one of us would track him down on the phone. Something work related would keep him away from making his way to us.

I know my brother gave up on him first. The abandonment he felt was like a dark cloud. He would make plans to go out with his friends. And he would go out and have a good time with them. And come home later to find that he had made the correct choice. Dad had not come to see us.

Late child support payments. Oh man, was he a procrastinator in sending them to us. It became my job at one point to call him up and remind him that we needed that money to live on. Mom was working full time and this money gave her a cushion for us kids.

At one point in later years I know I asked my dad what was up with all of this. His lame excuse was that he hated to see the pain on our faces when he would need to leave. He knew we would not want him to leave when he was there with us. And his late child support payments were a way to get us to call him. To hear our voices.

A number of years after these excuses, we learned that dad had actually visited the area. His brother, our uncle Jack, lived about 10 miles away. On many of the dates that he was supposed to come and visit us, he had been to visit them. I guess mom really didn't know what to do. I know we did not.

I need to call my sister. I'm not sure if she is still reading along on this. I want to make sure I do not awaken any demons for her in my writing today.