On the day I was born,
June 1, in
Aurora Colorado at Fitzsimmons
Army Medical Center, it was raining hard, and the South Platte River flooded.
Some might say it flooded because I was born, but I don’t believe
that. But the flood divided the city only
one bridge high enough to cross over the flooded valley. Now I would not remember this myself but I
was told the water was clear up to our yard about 20 feet up the hill from the
river bottom. But I don’t know that for
sure. All I know is it flooded and that
prompted them to build a dam, now known as Chatfield Reservoir. So anyway my first memories are of that
little house on Louisiana Ave. I remember falling off the
huge cylinder (small Propane tank) out back a few times. I remember my mom holding my arms over my
head as I was learning to walk. I don’t
remember clearly just little bits and pieces.
Well at about 18 months old we moved to a house on Flower St. I
remember there being a Lot across the street with horses. The next door neighbor’s dog stood taller
than me, it was a Great Dane. I remember
the little cement fireplace looking thing with the steel door.
(Incinerator) And the Intercom system in
the house us kids used to play with.
At age 4 we moved to 5750 W Louisiana.
And that is where we lived until I was 18. Now while I was growing up, I was fortunate
enough to have older siblings. I was
also smart enough to learn from their mistakes and not get into trouble for the
same stuff. Not that I didn’t get into
trouble, I did. Just not for the same
things they did. We were a typical
dysfunctional family like all the other families of that era. Well my Dad was a businessman. He owned a Commercial Painting Company, not a
house painter. They did jobs like McNichols Sports arena (Now torn Down). And Large jobs like that. $30,000 $40,000 $50,000 and
on up. I think 1.2 million was
the largest contract, but it may have been more. What I’m getting at is we had money. We never wanted for anything; we always had
what was needed. Now in 1978 or there abouts my Grandma Whittet (My Dads Mom) was diagnosed with
colon cancer. Even with the treatment
she passed away. It was partly because
of weakness, and she had fell getting trapped between
the wall and her toilet. And laid there all night and half the next day. My Dad went to check on her and found
her. She was still alive but from there
she went into Hospice and then passed away a few months later, I was 15. My Dad had a love of playing the horses and
Dogs. He did it all the time while I was
growing up, even owned Race Horses.
After Grandma passed away my Dad became depressed and started drinking
heavily. He had a band that played at
places like the “Eagles”, the “Moose”, “Elks”, “VFW”, “American
Legions” among others. He had been doing
this for several years back to when I was about 10, but He did not get drunk
every night they played. Just after
grandma died is when it started and he quit coming home part of the time, and
business went down hill from neglect.
Well then with the drinking he started playing the Dogs and Horses
heavier to try and win money to put back into the business. Long story short, business failed, lost our
house, lost just about everything, had to sell it all to keep out of debt. My Dad left my Mom, and my mom, my brother
and my self moved into a 2 bedroom apartment.
I was 18 and had just graduated when this all happened. My mom started working, something she had not
had to do for 19 years. I lived with my
mom for about 9 months in that apartment then took off on my own. I bounced around from place to place doing
odd jobs and such. I bought my first car, it was a 73 Chrysler Newport, a big boat of a car. It had a 400CI engine and burned a quart of
oil every 50 or so miles. After about 6
months on my own I moved in with my Dad and his girlfriend. He had a contract painting for an apartment
complex, and he put me to work. At this
time I also met my first serious girlfriend.
We moved into a little 30 foot camper trailer together. Then moved from there into my moms’ garage,
by this time she was living in a house my uncle owned and was helping him run
“Grandpa’s Burger Haven”. I worked a job
doing Red Iron at this time for a while.
But anyway my relationship was codependent and abusive, it only lasted about
9 months.
January 31, 1996, I had an accident with my S&R .22 cal
9 Shot revolver. Or I should say the
cylinder out of it. Long story short,
stuck live round, metal table leg, rim fire shells go off easy and freak
accidents are just that. 1 in a 1000000
chance and I was the 1. The month before
this I had enlisted in the Army. No, I
was not trying to get out of it. I was
scheduled to go March 15th but it got pushed back to May. They also changed my MOS from Helicopter
mechanic to Combat Medic. So I ended up
in a way different place than I ever intended.
Ft. Benning Georgia. Was my permanent duty station. Basic training
was a snap, AIT was easy, and my permanent duty station was fine. That is until
we got a new company commander. He and I just had major personality clash, an
instant dislike for each other. Due to the conflicts in personality I became
more and more anxious and angry, I was already an
angry person but this added fuel 10x fold to the fire. Well when push comes to
shove, I shove back. So the state of mind I was in and certain actions of the
company commander pushed me to my limits and beyond. I went AWOL in order to
keep from doing something far stupider, Killing the Company commander. I turned
myself in 18 days later and was after psychiatric evaluation Discharged
general under honorable conditions. I went back to Denver. Meanwhile I had met contacts while in the Military
and began dealing drugs, something I am not proud of. Well another short story trouble always finds
a way to bite. After all the trouble I
ended up in Sterling which can be seen in the As an Adult page.
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