We are the sum of our experiences, below is a bit of the stuff I remember. To read it is fairly shocking to some people. Keep in mind that the person I became is a good person. I am a good friend, I may not give you the shirt off of my back, but I will take you shopping and buy you one. If you need to talk to someone I am always available. I care about issues that face all of us. If you get your heart broke call me and I will tell you what an ass he/she was and make fun of them... I am a thinker, a kidder and a cook. (what was that all about???) sometimes I am very shy. Sometimes I am very bold. I like animals to a fault, I spent 6 months rehabilitating a dachshund with a bad back and paralyzed hind legs. I have a very tender heart and I try to help people if I can. I am not delusional, I know that some people need to get themselves straightened out. But I know that there are things that 1 man can do. I care... that is the bottom line. I am as honest as the day is long. I am moral. I believe that "in order to relate to someone you need to be "in" his reality" I turned out great. At least that's what I'm told.
so below is the story of my upbringing, the blacksmith's forge, hammer and anvil upon which I was shaped. Everyone has stories, this is mine.... (smile, life is good)
There is something referred to as "infant amnesia", it was believed that infants naturally forgot all that happened to them when they were tiny. Because of this Dr's felt it was ok to circumcise baby males without any pain control, after all it would only be excruciating for a few days and the child would never remember it. This could be overcome by trauma or repetition. Keeping this concept in mind... in my case, because of emotional trauma, infant amnesia was bridged. I was Born on June 1, 1950 in Joplin , Mo. I remember when I figured out that if I sucked on the bottle too long the nipple would collapse, so the trick was to stop, open my mouth and let the air back in the bottle. I also remember how much my diaper rash hurt when I pee'd and I would try to hold it. I remember crying when I could no longer hold my urine and I knew it was going to hurt. Soon after we moved to California, I don't remember where. But I remember when I was just out of my crib (2yr old ?), because of the new baby, I had gotten into a regular bed, one that I shared with my older brother. Meanwhile my sister had a her own bed. At this point Steve was born and my sister fell in love with the new baby, she insisted that the new baby be allowed to sleep with her, so she could take care of it and play with it. She had been my constant companion, but it ended. Their attachment turned into a lifelong relationship. Even now any dispute between "The Baby" and myself results in Penny immediately taking his side, she does this with no idea what happened from my viewpoint. My brother Jim came up with a scheme and between them they convinced my parents to put me back into the crib since it would be empty. I could not convince them how unfair this would be to me, after all I had "graduated" from the crib. Soon after my siblings decided to torture me, I think it was because I made a fuss about being demoted. They held the sheets down, all the way around the crib, they hung onto the edges of the sheet like monkey's. when I woke up I was trapped under the sheet and could not find the opening, soon I became terrified, I was screaming hysterically, while rushing back and forth under the sheet searching for a way out. When I finally escaped my siblings were smiling and laughing with glee. Now small places really freak me out.. I cannot watch a movie if someone is trapped in a ??? I suffer panic attacks and need medications to calm myself. After that I played alone mostly, I refused to have anything to do with anyone in the family. My buddy was gone. It is believed that I am ADD by my sister. My ADD was only with them. As a result of this siblings found me to be an easy "Judas goat", my siblings used me to blame for anything that happened. I suspect that my "tuning them all out all the time" allowed situations to develop without my being aware. This made me the perfect patsy all the time. Some of the problems were no less than intentional viciousness. Children can be cruel.
My father (lower case) went to Korea and mom shipped us off to a sitter 99% of the time, either she was working or kicking it. Later We went to live in Japan, the streets were all mud in the wet weather and dusty in dry weather. My mom hired local houseboy's to care for us, she was either working or kicking it. As for me... I would leave as soon as I could and be gone all day if possible. My mom never wanted to raise kids or keep house, She always had a maid or forced us kids to do all the house work from age 6 and up. Sometimes the Houseboy would find me, so I started riding the bus, it would be gone for hours, all the way up to the temple on a hill somewhere and back. The driver let me work the door opener for a few days, then told me that I couldn't do it anymore. That hurt my feelings. I was 4 at the time. The houseboy stopped worrying about me or trying to keep me home, it was the 50's and the streets were safe. I would sometimes find a "honey wagon" and sit on his rear bumper as he traveled up and down the streets looking for donations. (a honey wagon collected human waste to be converted into fertilizer). Looking back I am surprised by the things I did at 4 years old. I learned to tune out, alone in a crowd. I don't remember having any conversations with either of my parents. The most I remember was hearing ";WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING???" Obviously not them. Whenever in the family group I sat silent. I am sure that this left them wondering if there was something wrong with me. I'm sure it didn't endear them to me.
4 years old (all ages approximate)
We returned to Presidio, Ca USA near San Francisco. when I was 4. This was an Army base right on the Bay. I remember living in a house on a hill, a block from the Bay, The hillside was covered in "Ice Plants" and there was a deck about 20' off the ground on the back, that would be ground level on the front. I would spend a lot of time down by the water playing. I remember how disappointed my mother was that the school wouldn't allow her to enroll me in kindergarten. I was born past a cutoff date, age wise. I recall how unhappy she was that I would be around for another year. I still was not a member of the Jones Clan. I remember how my mom's car, an old gray Ford, would stall out on the hills of San Francisco. My Brother Jim called the car "Nelly-bell" after the old jeep that was on the "Roy Rodgers" TV show. They would hang out the windows slapping the side of the car screaming "come-on Nelly-bell" whenever we approached a hill. I am quite sure this caused my mom no end of embarrassment. She eventually made them stop. A couple of things stand out in my mind, my little brother Steve was in the backseat next to the door, my mother was driving on the base in an area that had a lot of railroad tracks. It was right after we left the Post Exchange (grocery store) He opened the backdoor and fell out. I just sat and watched him do it. It certainly wasn't something I wanted to be involved with, if I was involved I would be blamed. So I just watched. He was scrapped up but not hurt. I also remember days spent alone on the shoreline... trying to "not be around" I also remember being so upset at one point that I just sat in the sand and cried. One evening during dinner my father lunged at me, angry and ready to hurt. I jumped up and ran out on the deck ready to jump, this was something I had planned for the next time I was attacked.; My mother screamed and I stopped before I went over the side. I knew I would not get hurt, after all the hillside was covered with a dense carpet of ice plants. And I had discovered, through experience, that I could jump and slide on ice plants for 10 feet or so before I stopped. This was the very 1st time my mother ever tried to intervene between my father and one of us kids. His attitude was that he didn't care if I jumped and if I didn't he would throw me. She calmed him down eventually while I sat outside on the deck listening to all this. The only thing on my mind was being mad because they stopped me from jumping, and it appeared as if mom had to rescue me.
5 years old
We moved to Oakland, Ca where they bought a house, there are a few things I remember about that house. I convinced Steve to climb on the back of a calf that was in a field at the end of our street. He was thrown to the ground and almost stepped on. Jim broke his arm and we all had to ride up to the Military hospital in San Francisco to get it set. It was a quiet and hot ride. I also remember thinking that I wanted to kill animals, I found a puppy and tried to strangle it. I could not do it though. I was suddenly racked with grief and cried for a long time while holding the puppy in my lap while it licked my face. I will let the reader decide why I wanted to do this. I met a girl at school and she talked me into showing her my penis. At a different time she talked me into having a pee contest, accuracy was the goal.& She peed through a knothole, I was as good a shot too but baffled as to how she did it. I pulled the "fire alarm" at school. I was curious how hard the clapper had to hit the glass in order to break it. Not very hard.
5 and 6 years old
My father was re-assigned to a base in Pasadena, he monitored government contracts to be sure there was no payola or cheating he eventually was sent away for turning in his superior officer.. While we were there I used to climb the school flagpole as a fun thing to do. I scared some old guy when he saw me sitting 20' up on that big round brass ball on top, my baby's ass just small enough to fit and my hands at my side gripping the ball below.. I snuck into a construction site and used the 3 story steel skeleton of a building as a jungle gym, I figured out how to run the construction elevator. I would climb out of my bedroom window on the second floor and reach over to the downspout and then down to the ground. One night while my parents had dinner guests I was allowed (?) to be around and discovered that I had them all in stitches, just by sharing my adventures. This was when I discovered that I could make people laugh and like me. For a 6 year old I got into a lot of trouble, I would gather all the neighbors mail and build a fire, I was playing at camping. I also followed the maid home one day because I wanted to see how black people lived. The next day I went over and crawled in the bathroom window. I hung from the sill and lowered myself within a foot of the tub and dropped down. When I went to open the bathroom door I found that it was locked from the outside. After trying to get the door open for what seemed like forever I gave up and decided to climb back out the window. As I stood in the tub looking up at the window I knew I would never be able to reach it and if I did I wouldn't be have the strength to pull myself up, there was nothing to stand on. So I sat there trapped for several hours. Finally someone came home and opened the door, I made a mad dash for the front door but I was caught. I was escorted home and of course got a beating. I used to go to the bakery and buy bread and pay the extra penny to have it sliced. My father raped my mom one day, he threw her underwear out their bedroom window. I heard her screaming. She didn't want any more children, she didn't want the ones she had. I think this was when I stopped listening. Later this would cause me no end of trouble, conversations would happen and I would not have a clue if asked or told or accused... and I was accused a lot. I was forever surprised by accusations, my response was seen as guilt. I always "Looked ' guilty. This was a great advantage for my siblings. Even now I always look guilty, no matter what. Accuse me of starting WWI and I will look guilty. As a response I became angry if accused of anything, this didn't help. We soon moved into a house in Glendora, Ca. backed right up to the railroad tracks. I was home alone with my father, mom had gone off with everyone else. He was watching TV and I was hanging on him, he finally yelled "JESUS CHRIST, calm down won't you? go have a beer or something. ' I went to the kitchen crying and got a beer and sat on the back stoop and drank it. My father was reassigned to France, we got French language records, but at the last moment our destination was changed to Germany, supposedly because he found out that his superior officer was accepting kickbacks.
7 years old
We drove cross country, stopping rarely, my father was "driven" to get to NY. I was trapped with my siblings in the back seat. In Denver we spent a few days with my Mom's step-mom. The house next to hers was vacant and available to us, because they were G'ma's friends. I would spend a lot of time combing the alley's behind for treasures. One night when the adults wanted to go out for dinner we kids were dropped off at the movies, the movie was a horror flick, dark and scary very inappropriate for children, I was terrified of the dark for the next 2 years. Next stop was Knoxville, Tn. My dad's brother had a nice big house, I spent my time behind the house in the woods, there was a stream there. I found a cat behind a log playing with something. As I got closer I discovered that it was a tiny bunny, all bloody. The cat had skinned it and was beginning to eat it. I scared the cat off and I picked it up and took it to my father, he told me it was a lost cause and I had to take it back into the woods and stone it to death, put it out of it's misery. I protested as much as a 7 year old, that was afraid of his father, could then I cried all the way down the hill I remember laying the bunny on the ground next to a stream and stepping back from it I picked up a big rock and tears were flowing from my eyes... I threw the rock and missed so I tried several more times. I was not very coordinated at age 6 so I couldn't hit the bunny from 5 feet away. So I got a really huge bolder and stood directly over the bunny and dropped it... Twice crushing it's head. So I did it, I put the bunny out of it's misery. I spent he rest of the day sitting there with the dead bunny, watching the stream run by. I was crying for a while but then I stuffed those feelings and went back to the house, my dad asked if I had "done IT?" and I said with a straight face that I had. I had learned a new skill, not showing emotion... In the future I would be called on to kill not only the family dog, Zsa Zsa but my 1st wife's dog and 2 dogs that I owned with Liz. I was pretty numb to the whole idea. We saw the 1st nuclear reactor ever built anywhere, it was in Knoxville. From there we went to NY city, the family dog was put into quarantine. She had to be given a certificate of health in order to travel overseas. The car had to be dropped off for transport. The ship we got on seemed to take forever to get going, then it took forever to wind it's way out of the ports. I remember the tugs dropping the ropes once we were clear. We were underway. We spent a week on the naval ship, traveling to Europe. Everyone was seasick and spending all their time in the cabin, laying down. I couldn't be there, so I would go forward on deck to the area set aside for the pets of military families and hide. I discovered that if I faced into the wind and breathed deeply I could stave off the nausea. My birthday came and went.
8 years old
When we arrived in Europe we spent the 1st day sitting on our luggage, waiting for my father to get us all processed. My siblings kept themselves busy. I kept to myself as much as I could, I tried to go "exploring" but got in trouble. We spent a day on a train to get to our destination, Heidelberg, Germany (age 8-10). We spent the rest of the week in a hotel while the arrangements were made for base housing. Normally we would have been assigned a house on base but none were available, I remember the conversation between my parents about waiting for an opening. we ended up on the 2nd floor in a military apartment building. I was terrified of the basement, it was dark and scary, I was sure there were monsters. I discovered books, I lived there for years. Later I remember "wetting ' the bed for years out of spite ,I was 10 when I finally stopped, I used to wake up early in the morning and lay there and pee... and once in a while I would stand on the pillow at the head of the bed and pee. I think I was getting even with my "family" for torturing me and never making it right. No one ever noticed that my jammies were often dry. One night my mother and father were arguing and she was in the kitchen where she grabbed a package of frozen peas and threw it at him. I was setting the table for dinner and she hit me instead of him. I went down but was unhurt. She was sorry, it was the 1st time I remember her caring about me. My father decided that we were to sensitive about our modesty, so one night he declared we would all walk around naked for everyone to see. I was horrified, I took my turn, I stripped down and walked through the living room and back to my bedroom where I redressed. When it was my sisters turn I couldn't take it, I crawled under a end table and buried my face in my arms. I knew this was just "wrong" it was an embarrassment, but I survived. And my sisters privacy was intact. (in my mind) I always day-dreamed that I would be a hero someday... I would save all my classmates after a building collapsed from "the BOMB" we were taught to "duck and cover" and I would be the only person that wasn't hurt, I would save everyone and be a hero... I was a loner... My family would go on vacations all over Europe, I was very fair skinned and would burn in 20 minutes, blisters in an hour. This did not affect travel plans, so I would attempt to hide under a blanket, I did this until I was 16. I left home then. We spent 2 weeks on the Rivera, camping. Everyone spent their time on the beach getting all tan. I stayed in the tent. It didn't matter because I still got burned. I was bright red by the 3rd day. So of course my brother Steve would slapped my back. In spite of all this I was a wonderful, sweet, kind, loving caring person that was never going to share that with anyone in the household. Once in a while they would see the "me" inside. Like when we left Germany and I cried, I had found a way to survive there or years later when my mom wrecked her new car on the "grapevine" and I wept for her loss. I would never tell them why I cried. In general I tried to stay away from all of them. Being near any of them always meant emotional or physical pain to me. My mother's and father's constant fights ended up with him sitting on her, holding her arms across her chest so she couldn't move. When I saw this I tried to tackle him and knock him off of her. He knocked me 10 feet with a backhand. I guess it startled them so much that they forgot their fight. On some school days I would want to stay home so I would be safe from attack. My mother would throw me out the front and lock me out of the apartment in my pajamas. I liked to listen to "Radio Free Europe" a lot of morality plays about people letting criminally minded people take away their freedoms. I also liked the "Lone Ranger" and some music. I heard "Are you lonesome tonight" by Elvis... it made me cry. I bought the 45, it cost a whole weeks allowance, 10 cents. No what seems so telling about who I was... One time while in Austria at a ski resort called Lake Eibse, I was on the slops and had a collision with a German kid, probably my fault. His ski tip caught me under the left knee and tore out my tendons. They sent a ski rescue and I was toted off to the 1st aid cabin. Finally my mom showed up to collect me and was told that I should see a Dr ASAP. Unfortunately My mother and father were at each others throats at the time and he decided that it was a load of crap and refused to take me or to allow my mom to take me to the Dr. He decided that I was faking it and would yell at me and hit me if he saw me hopping on my right leg. So for the rest of the trip I was stuck in the room, when we got home he still refused to allow my mom to take me to the Dr. After 2 weeks of this she finally decided to take me to the Dr anyway and I was put in a cast from hip to toe. I felt ashamed that I had somehow betrayed him. I'm not saying I was logical all the time. I would ride my bike using just one leg the other balanced precariously on the handle bars. I was told by my father to "Don't limp" you're just looking for attention, what he didn't say was and proving your mother right. I still hear his demand whenever I'm hurt.."DON'T LIMP" My mother decided to take me to see a psychiatrist, she thought that there was just something not "right"... DUH... he concluded that I was anti-social and possibly schizophrenic and paranoid. This quiet sullen kid shows up in his office and doesn't want to look him in the eye, he had a lot of questions that I was afraid to answer. Afterwards I decided that this was actually a nice guy that really was interested in me, the next week I had all sorts of stuff to share. He asked if I thought people were after me, I told him yes, my brothers and sister. (paranoid) No wonder he thought I was a schitzo, 2 totally different kids showed up at his office. That was the end of that. My dad wasn't about to let me talk about my life. Well I am not schizophrenic. Scared of people sometimes, yes. All I wanted was to be left alone, not that I was getting any supervision or guidance from anyone, anyway. I was one of those sweet boys that didn't like or understand violence. Being Army brats, and living in "base housing", row after row of 4 story apartment buildings. Once in a while all the kids played "WAR" with wooden swords, and trash can lids for shields... 50 kids chasing each other and pounding 1 of enemy into crying "uncle" While all this was happening I started a club, in the middle of all this chaos, that was named �the good deed club". There were 4 of us, we decided that we would each put 5 cents from our allowances into the club's treasury every week. Then when we had a "lot" of money (50 cents) we would give it to the Red Cross. After a month and me being the only one putting in money, I dissolved the club and bought candy. A man and his son were practicing, hitting a baseball, they invited me to join them. The father took his time and showed me how to swing a bat. The next time I saw them practicing I went to join them ... they uninvited me, I never understood that. I was expelled from the Cub Scouts because I was wearing one blue and one black sock. That�s what happens when a Lt Colonel is Scout Master. My older brother (the football player) loved to torment me, one day he saw me in public near the library and decided that he was going to "pound" me. I took off running with him hot on my heels. I ran into the building and down the stairs. He lost his footing and fell down the stairs, landing face first on the floor. I was glad that I was now gaining distance between us and was sure that this time I might escape. He screamed in pain, I stopped, he continued to scream holding his mouth. I went back to see what was wrong, he had broken both front teeth, now just stubs. I held him and helped him up the stairs. My nature. Another time he had me cornered in the bathroom and was once again beating me. I grabbed a shoe and nailed him on the forehead with the heel. I was almost as startled as he was and I felt terrible and sick. I was told many times that I was never going to live till the morning, he was going to kill me while I slept. I went to bed in fear almost every night. Mom would scream at my father that we needed to be beaten as soon as he would get home from work, he would sort out the problems and the accusations and my guilt. At one point he decided that he didn't want to hear her drama every night and would simply use a belt on all of us every night as soon as he walked in the door. "if you didn't do anything you will" was his rational. I'm the little boy you see running home carrying a hurt dog and crying... praying no one would see my tears. Tears meant I could be hurt and was weak. Someone would torture me with that information. I am the little boy that hangs out with a little blind girl 3 buildings over. I took her a movie "South Pacific"... she loved the music. Her parents decided that I shouldn't come around. I wonder if I touched her life in any way??? I am the little boy that chased the little girls up and down through the bed sheets, hung out to dry, trying to kiss them. My father saw this and hollered down from the 3rd floor "I SEE WHAT YOUR DOING" shaming me. I am the boy that had very few friends, a middle child. One time I was in on the top floor, it was servant quarters in case anyone hired a full time maid/nanny. The floor was deserted and had a lot of trash around. I was sitting with my back against the wall reading something to a girl that was up there with me. I reached a point in the story that I felt required faux frustration. I sighed heavily and dropped the book into my lap. At the same time I banged my elbow into a broken glass jug cutting my elbow to the bone. It scared me and I immediately started screaming and ran down stairs to my home. Blood was flowing and my parents were horrified. My dad grabbed a towel and had me hold pressure on it while he then drove like a maniac through town to get me to a Dr. About half way there I stopped screaming and crying and looked at him and said "I don't know why I'm crying, it isn't helping." I rode in silence the rest of the way to the emergency room. My parents forgot my birthday 2 years in a row, while my sister was doted over. My older brother was a bully... he liked to practice on me. (he is the only one that ever apologized for the way he treated me, now he treats me well. (I am not sure if it isn't entirely guilt driven.) They all blamed me for everything that they did wrong. I'm sure they never cared or thought that it made any difference. They were always backing each others claims that "Philip did it" My childhood passed with me trying to "not be around" so I couldn't be blamed, it didn't work. I would come home and discover that I was in trouble and that my siblings were unified about my guilt. I was told "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID" and was not told. I have to say that as a child I was usually pretty "sterling" in my behavior, just to be sure to be blameless, although my spanked red ass didn't confirm it. My sister was taking ballet lessons, I watched the kids inside the auditorium dancing and having fun, There were adults that were actually helping kids do stuff. I decided to join them, my father was outraged that I wanted to do ballet, my mom insisted. After a month or so some boys from school saw me inside and I had to stop. I didn't mind stopping to much, my sister was ignoring me anyway.
10 years old and back to the States
I wasn't the smartest kid in class... I was to accustomed to "tuning out" so at times I was disruptive or was "the clown"... My mom and dad got divorced and I was shipped off to "Brown Military Academy" Steve joined me there later, he loved it. I hated it and finally ran away. Not that I was wanted back at home. I didn't stay home long. In my teen years I was the kid that smoked alone, out in the back of the school during lunch. I asked the beautiful girl with a slight facial deformity to the dance. It never occurred to me that I would be teased for liking her. My older brother and sister would drink from the crystal booze decanters and refill them with water. You can guess who got blamed when it was found out. My sister broke her arm and I would do her hair, it was a time of ratted and combed over bouffant, I couldn't stand to see her unable to do it herself, my nature... She thanked me when I was 50... At some point I quit trying to be sterling, it was obvious that it was useless to try. I was a teenager that is always on the fringe of the crowd. I didn't know how to be with other people. My mother would tell my older brother to "get him" which meant he was to attack me. One time he was off balance and I pushed him into her china cabinet, breaking most of her collection. For that she cried. I was 16, I left. I became a maid at a motel in exchange for a room, I was a dishwasher across the street at a restaurant for meals. A month later my mother came to my motel room and sat in front of my door and cried, begging me to return home. After several months I returned home and started back to school, I earned my high school diploma by doing a lot of extra work. I met a girl and fell in love, we got married right out of high school... and divorced as soon as she miss-carried the baby. We were way too young. My sister told me to never speak to her because she hated the timber and sound of my voice. She told me that she didn't want me to talk at all when she was in the room. I did not cry in front of her. She didn't care if I existed and would prefer that I didn't. I didn't talk to her for many years, of course she didn't mind or probably even notice. She lived in Hawaii for years, I never visited. When I was 19, I changed my last name, I never felt like a Jones, it has never bothered me that I did it. I never felt a part of. I in effect divorced my father and he became Hugh. He asked me to call him dad many years later, but I wouldn't give him back that power. Eventually our relationship was based on humor, my wife and I would visit him on his "ranch" in the desert. He would disparage me behind my back. He would declare that I was a queer (his word) or some other nasty slight. He did this while pretending to be my friend. But I was unaffected, I had removed his power to hurt me. Even now the "group dynamics" reverts to an "attitude" if we all get together. Phil as "The goat" everyone else as his tormenter. Christmas when I was in my early 40's involved a white elephant gift exchange. As soon as I showed interest in one of the gifts it turned into a game of "keep-away" That was the time I decided to avoid get together completely. Eventually you just have enough. I do visit my brother Jim in Bend sometimes, he was the bully that apologized to me many years later. He seems to like me, seems to be interested in me, but I think it is guilt driven, rather than a true sense of caring. I accepted his apology, I didn't want to deny him the relief that it should and hopefully has given him for his actions long ago. My younger brother is in Spain and we haven't spoken in years. He spends his time listening to the bias of the America hating media over there and has become a staunch supporter of anything and everything anti-American. He married a Spanish woman that he has mistreated every time I have seen them together. He became a citizen of Spain and swore allegiance to only them. I told him once that he had no business commenting on American policies, and I wasn't interested in the opinions of an American hating foreigner. That was the end of our communications. My sister is in Eugene and we don't speak either, she wasn't privy to my conversation with my brother Steve, but she made it very clear that she backed him regardless. I am sure this stems from plotting to move him into her bed when he was 2 and the allegiance that created. This is all good, finally I am not a goat... it's kinda nice. It isn't really that lonely, not after 56 years of it being in a self imposed exile anyway. I know they are not "there for me" and that's not new either.. When I was injured and had no place to go to live it never even occurred to me that any of them would be an option. I have other people that consider me as family and love me. People that are on "my side". As opposed to those that only amuse themselves by trying to hurt me. It may be from an ingrained habit... but that doesn't make it excusable. It took me over 50 years to admit to myself that I have bad feelings about all this stuff. Always trying to be a "nice" guy, with no hard feelings towards anyone. Always ready to forgive and forget? I wish, but forgetting is impossible and unreasonable to expect. I look back and it feels a lot like a bad movie, "Cruel Intentions, my life�. So I guess this is the answer to all the people that asked "what do you have to say for yourself" As a child I lived with a red hot coal of anger inside, an angry coal the size of a 2 year olds heart, so hot it would burn anything that touched it. I lived through it, I have looked at it. Now I am a man and I have put away my childish things.
More�
If you read my ramblings regarding my childhood then you know I didn't have a normal upbringing. I don't really remember either of my parents giving me any guidance. I remember being corrected, usually a painful experience, this was the way I was taught, not by instructions on how to behave but rather a slap. I was told "you know what you did" more times than I can remember. I usually didn't have a clue. I don't remember what caused me to decide to stop trying to be a "sterling" child, as far as my behavior was concerned. I believe it was a feeling of hopelessness, I was blamed anyway. But there was a point when I changed my operating mode... my parents were divorced so my dad wasn't beating g me.. my mom used my brother Jim as her whip... I can remember her screaming at Jim "get him" meaning attack me... on one occasion it resulted in him falling into the china cabinet and breaking all her treasures. Good for her. I wanted to be happy, my home was not where I was going to find it. I started running away from home, that behavior landed me in jail several times... at least 3. I was also committed to a Youthful runaway school for a year. Fortunately I was not so bad that I had to live there. I was not criminal, just a chronic runaway. I was only motivated by my wants. Regardless of others feelings. I didn't just runaway to a friends house, I went to places like "Lake Havasu" where I got a job and a place to live. I was arrested and my mother was sent for, then San Diego where I joined a commune, was arrested and sent home. I was a runaway and that was illegal. I was not going for just a while, I was simply leaving forever. After spending a week at "Juvey Jail" I stayed home for a while. I discovered that my ability to make friends could bring me some happiness. I didn't understand that it was not reasonable to expect them to provide all of my emotional needs, I didn't even know I had emotional needs. So I often broke off relationships based on my perception of what a good relationship should be. I could over think the strangest things... for example Do t-shirts get thinner or thicker after washing? thinner is the answer, unless you consider the fact that cotton shrinks and becomes more dense, therefore thicker. Why won't a plastic straw stay in a glass of pop? They always seem to rise out of the pop? Because the carbonation bubbles stick to the straw as they rise and lift the straw out the pop. Toilets swirl clockwise south of the equator.
12 years old
My parents divorced when I was 12 or so, the iron fist of my father disappeared. My shrieking mother was free of his brutality and so was I. Well no I wasn't, now she would shriek at Jim to "get him" this was his queue to attack me and beat me at will, this was her usual mode of discipline. Brutality reigned. It was very apparent that I was alone, still. I never thought that it would continue. My dad was no longer the club with which I was beaten. I started to have a "friendship" with him. I now suspect that he was bending to my mom's will when it came to abuse, if he did it, then she was innocent. My school experiences involved either hiding from my brother or hiding from other bullies that saw me as an easy mark. I "believed" I was just playing around with a guy in my gym class, he was huge but not fat. We were goofing around one day and I pretended to intimidate him. I grabbed him by the shirt in the chest area and pushed up against the wall. I don't remember what I said but it was something threatening I�m sure. He never said anything to me but I found out later that he was afraid of me from then on. I mention this because it shows that you can never tell how you will affect a persons life. That was the 1st person I got physical with and it was pretend anger. There were 3 more times in my life when I got physical with another man. I am not a fighter.
13 years old
I didn't like school so I stopped going most of the time, I spent my time alone. I was either at the house (I guess I should have thought of it as "home") watching TV. I didn't like crowds so I stayed out of them. I liked girls because they weren't mean spirited, I also discovered that they could make me really forget my problems. To say I became obsessed with girls would be an understatement. My attraction to girls was encouraged by their lack of physical meanness, They didn't try to be dominant, cruel or ask stupid questions. I felt I could really just be myself. I was pretty odd, my childhood, spent alone, left me unprepared to socialize. I didn't have any left over notions of cooties or any of that garbage. My relationship with my sister, after Steve was born, was non-existent. I think I expected it to be much more, we were born close together, age wise, she was only about 10 months older than me. When Steve was born she abandoned me (see ramblings) and we never got to know each other after that. When I was about 16 she and her best friend were making jewelry, for some reason she allowed me to be a part of that for a couple of days. I was probably pretty intense, I'm not sure, they made it clear that I was not wanted there. I had no sense of family. I often found myself being accepted into someone else�s family as a "nice kid" and would succor that relationship until I drained it. At that point or near it I was invited to stay away.
14 years old
I thought I was ugly, physically, as a result of this self image I starved myself. There were several Dr visits when I was told I was mal-nourished. I found reasons for not eating, I had read research, I was a bookworm, about mice. The control group lived and ate normally, the other group was fed only enough to survive. The control group aged as expected, the other group was given a normal diet when the reached late middle age. The control group had all the problems you would expect, gray hair, balding, arthritis, and such. The other group, after a normal diet of a few weeks, had none of those problems. They had youthful appearances, full bushy dark coats. So.... I was not going to eat until I was 50. Lofty goal. Basic rules for not eating are these, eating is just a bad habit, hunger pangs subside sooner or latter, cigarettes or coffee or both would stave off or neutralize hunger. Looking back this was an obvious form of self torture or something. I think. I was very thin all the time I was growing up. When I was 20 I wore a size 28 waist, I was 6" tall. 132 lbs. I was about as unattractive as I felt. Looking at old photo's I now realize that I was pretty good looking.
15 years old
At about age 15 or so I was walking and came upon my brother Steve. He had accidentally peed himself and the front of his jeans was soaked. He was embarrassed, of course, we were a long way from home. Steve was not a friend of mine, I doubt we had talked more than a couple of times in the previous 14 years. But he didn't want to walk all the way home with pissed pants. I came up with a plan, I found a yard that had the sprinklers on and pretended to throw him into the path of the water and held him there until he was soaked from head to foot. I then walked him home. I don't know why I kept helping my siblings. I know it was not to curry favor, I just couldn't abandon anyone, even them, in trouble. My father had a small place in town, it was a motel that had kitchenettes. I started going over there while he was at work. Later he moved into a small house, I continued to spend all my free time there when he was at work. He didn't seem to mind, I think it was because it probably annoyed my mother. On very hot days I would sit in front his air-conditioner drinking his milk with strawberry Quik flavoring added. I never had a key, that I remember, I think I always broke in. (snuck in). He started dating a woman, Patricia, that lived 3 blocks from me and I went over there all the time, he never hit me. She had a daughter, Kathy, that I started seeing, we were very "in love" we spent all of our free time together. We would dance to her records in her family room." She taught me the words to songs and we would sing, she would tease me, make me act like a puppy and pet me and give me bowls of water to drink. We would kiss, it was bliss. I had no idea what sex was and we were innocent. Pat was like a mom to me, I loved her too. Of course this caused me all kinds of emotional turmoil. Disloyalty and guilt were on my mind. My older brother ran away with his sweetheart. It was the best thing to ever happen to me.
16 years old
My mother shipped me off to Harding Military Academy in Glendora California, I am not sure why I was chosen for this privilege, possibly to shield me from my siblings? To get rid of me? Because one of my siblings begged her to? Anyway I was miserable and told her often how much I missed home and freedom and Kathy. Finally, after being restricted from going home, I ran away from there I went to my dads, I had packed everything I had at the school into a blanket and carried it while hitch-hiking. I was hauled back to the school and taken into a meeting of the military leadership and scholastic leadership. They agreed to allow me to return to school. I told them that I would not stay. The colonel took me for a private walk and we discussed my decision to leave school, he told me that if I promised to "not run" I would be allowed to return, but of course there would be some punishment. I told that my promise was to run as soon as the meeting was over. He thanked me for my honesty and they advised my mom that I couldn't return to school. Steve was at the same school, he requested to go and was very happy with the life. He stayed on for years. Kathy and I were an item for a long time, I still love her, she was my 1st and special. Then Dad and Pat got married. I felt more conflicted feelings and we started to grow apart eventually "not seeing" each other. I am not sure who broke up with who, but I do recall the subject of her being my step-sister coming up. Penney and I were the only ones at home, we never spoke, not a single conversation or exchange.
17 years old
I continued to be a runaway, getting arrested. One night I was out with a friend, I had just been out to the desert to pick him up at his Army base, he was a soldier. We were on our way back to town and he had a 5th of Sloe Gin, a very sweet poison. When we got back to town we went to my house, I went inside to tell my mom what I was up to. I knew she was home because her car was there. I finally found her in her bed with a strange man. Being 1/2 drunk my anger, pain, upset led me to run to my room and grab my 22 rifle. I was going to kill them both, my friend tackled me 3 feet from her bedroom door. He sat on me and told me that I was not going to do anything stupid and that I was going to come with him. I was crying hysterical, we drove around for a while and then we headed back out to the desert to his base. As we were driving I was drinking, I was shit faced when I decided to jump from the car, we were on the freeway and he was speeding... so that was probably 80 or so. He saved me a second time, he grabbed my belt from behind just as I was headed out the passenger door. This was when I left home. One of my friends lived at a motel, his mother owned several. He allowed me to move in with him as long as I would help with cleaning rooms and such. Across the street was a restaurant and I got a job as a dishwasher. I made a friend from one of the cooks and he would slip me food from the kitchen (orders that were made wrong). I also got a job at a taco house making taco shells. I was on my own, I was 16. We would clean rooms as soon as they were vacant, there were several rooms that had full time renters. When we cleaned these rooms and changed the sheets daily we would scavenge for cigarettes, food and whatever else we could find worth stealing. After 4-5 months my mom came to my room and was crying. As she stood on the stoop, begging me to come home, I looked in her teary eyes and closed the door. A couple of months later, after scraping and struggling to feed myself I decided to negotiate my return home. My mom agreed to allow me to have control over my life. The first thing I did was to enroll in a school for dropouts. All of the courses were self paced and could be completed at the students speed. I had 2 years of high school to make up for. My mom didn't know I was going to school, I didn't tell her anything that I was doing. She found out I was in school when I invited her to my graduation in June 1968, I had made up all my lost time and graduated on schedule. I met a girl at a football game on a Friday night, it was the "main" event for kids to meet. Her name was Sondra Andresen, she was an artist and a troubled soul. On some nights if I stayed at her house too late I would sleep in her parents travel trailer or I would crawl through the donation slot of the "Goodwill" donation shed at the corner. If I was sleeping at Goodwill I would arrange all the bundles into a mattress and use other clothes as a blanket. I was a vagabond. I had found a woman that made me feel good, or was it the sex?
18 years old and out
In June I graduated, turned 18 and I married my pregnant girlfriend. My mother immediately notified me that she was moving to San Francisco and was on my own. We lived with her parents for a several months. It was a family oriented group and I wasn't to sure how to act. I really enjoyed the whole environment, dinner together, sitting watching TV together, sitting in the backyard just hanging out together. I was very happy but then I overheard my mother in law screaming at her oldest daughter that if she didn't straighten up she would end up like Sondra, my wife. That made me feel as unwanted as hell. We found an apartment, a place that would give me money off of the rent, if I cared for the grounds. We had sex a lot, after a while Sondra miscarried, we lost the baby. We discussed what we should do. The thought of getting a divorce was discussed, I was against it. I had a chance to have my own family. I wanted to have a real family and I wanted her to get pregnant again right away. It was a childish idea. We were way to young, divorce felt like abandonment to me. I got a factory job and that is where I met Liz, the woman that would end up being the "rest of my life"