I still wonder from time to time why I was spared that day, but I don't dwell upon it anymore. I can only speculate that it was the difference between being a son and a stepson. I came home after Mick had been shot and maybe my dad's rage had already been spent by then. Dad never spoke with me about the events of that day afterwards, and he never apologized either. Mom, bless her, was there for me through thick and thin. To honor Mick's memory, I named my son after him 40 years from the date of his passing. "But oh for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!" (Tennyson). I'll always remember and miss Mick!
Living through something like that was a traumatic experience, and it messed me up in how I related to adults and authority figures. It's hard to say how many of the troubles I experienced both as a kid and as a young man that I can fairly attribute to that family tragedy. On the flipside are the "what might have beens" if not for that terrible day? In the end who can really know? I have my demons, but I'm okay with myself now and that's something. "Nothing can bring you peace but yourself." (Emerson).
Having said that, I'll share some of the ups and downs of what has been my path. Mom and I had to move from our home due to dad's folly. (Our house was sold to cover the legal fees for dad's trial. It had been his place before marrying my mother). Living in our old home was pretty hard for us afterwards anyway because there were just too many reminders there. Mom and I temporarily lived in an old house one block away.
From Troy, mom and I moved to Madison Heights, MI when I was in the 1st grade. I had one of the nicest people I've ever met as a babysitter during this time. Her name was Addy Albertson and I loved spending time with her. She walked about half a mile everyday to get me off to school. I started skipping school during the 2nd grade though, and skipped two weeks straight at one point. "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long long thoughts." (Longfellow). Mom had met Ferris during this time, and they were married in the summer of 1962. Poor guy, he could have never imagined what kind of a package he was getting with me. I'm grateful though that he was both a patient and forgiving man. We would move a couple of more times as our family grew with the additions of my three younger sisters, Tina, Marsha, and Lisa.
I was in the 3rd grade when we moved to Clinton Township where I attended Clintondale schools. Some of my friends there were Art Kretchmer, Dennis Bennett, Ralph and Vince Recchia, Don and Mike Sisman, Mike Merrick, Warren Cadennis, Tony Guzman, and Kurt Richter. I just adored Mrs. Allen my 4th grade teacher at Little Mack Elementary School. She could whistle louder than any boy on the playground too by using the first two fingers on each hand! I also recall the stern visage of Mr. Kerr, the principal. He grasped me by the face one day nearly lifting me off of my feet because he resented my irreverent and mischievous attitude. I struggled to keep my toes in contact with the floor as I dangled from his grip! (No Father Flanagan-type was he).
I skipped school for a month straight in the 5th grade. My stepfather was forcing me to go to back to school, and I struggled to escape into the back seat of the car as he held on to me. There happened to be a vase on the backseat and I smashed it over his head. As you can see I was, as Ferris called me that day, a little devil. My parents tried to help me. I just wasn't listening to them, or to any other grownups at that time.
When I was 13, I began drinking in Clinton Township at my friend Robin's house. Her dad had a bar in their basement and we watered down many a liquor bottle for him too. At times, it was like a chemistry lab down there. I also discovered some of the other things that were becoming available at around that time. I had a hard time dealing with things as a kid, "A still small voice spake unto me, "Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be." (Tennyson). I'm thankful I managed to find my way through those years.
We moved to Rochester in 1968. Some of the first friends I met there were Bob Britton, Tim Griffin, Larry Compton, and George Barrett. I also met my longtime friends, Diane Corpening, Ronna Foote, and Cheryl Scott from Troy, who died way too young at the age of 35 from diabetes. I was a marked man in school there early on though and seemed to be in trouble all of the time. I got kicked out of school left and right at West Junior High. One time, I got kicked off of the bus for announcing to the world that the assistant principal had a chrome dome. It didn't matter that it was true. Well, his head sure did shine anyway! No room for Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn-types around there. I despised school just as much as Mark Twain's characters too, if not more, and skipped school regularly! I guess I was just a little ahead of my time because many of the things I found myself in trouble for back then wouldn't even hardly rate a second look in most schools today.
I was taken to court when I was 14 for being what the school called incorrigible and the judge agreed. "I cared not for what they thought, For I was more than what I seemed, The inner battles I daily fought, But for someday I nightly dreamed!" (Mine). Fortunately, for me, I survived that experience with my chastity intact because there were older and larger molester-types in that place with the likes of myself. Believe me, other kids weren't nearly so lucky. Often, attitude can carry you through tight spots like that, whereas a lack of it can mark you as prey. I regret that I was so full of those churning emotions during my youth though because I missed out on a lot of the good things in school, like playing sports, that I would have enjoyed.
The stint in the juvenile home only served to harden my attitude though, and when I turned 16 I quit school officially. Rick Menefee and I became regulars at the Janke household when Jenny and her family moved into Brookland Sub. Shortly afterwards, Bill Menefee, Garry Moore, Steve Cloos, and Larry O'Riley, who were four of my closest friends, joined the army on the buddy plan. Losing four friends from our crowd all at once like that was devastating. "A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature." (Emerson).
By that time though, I was out drinking most nights, or whatever else we could find to do. And, it was clear, even to me, that I was going nowhere fast. Rick and I had talked about going into the service together on the buddy plan, but four days after my 17th birthday, I joined the army by myself and was on my way to Ft. Knox, KY where I did very well in basic training, and later too in AIT at Ft. Leonard Wood, MO. I had hoped at the time, that I would find some answers in the service. And, I did find some answers there, but there were many surprises too! Things are never what they seem to be when you're on the outside looking in.
