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The beginning of my new beginning....
So I said that I would begin to write my life history and toda is the first day Ive really had a chance to start. So here it goes:
I was born In Fort Campbell, Kentucky on July 28, 1972. They say I was one huge baby: 10 lbs. 4 oz. That is big. Mom told me years later that she had a difficult pregnancy with me. I dont remember the day but Im sure for everyone that it was a good day. Maybe not for mom but for everyone else. Dad was military and mom was, well, she was mom. I dont know if she had a job or not but hey, does it matter?
There are a few memories from my childhood I can clearly see in my minds eye. I dont quite know how old I was but I know I was old enough to remember. My brother and I have different remembrances of this and his is probably right seeing as though I was just a toddler still. Anyway, I was waiting for some hot dhocolate in my highchair probably as patient as patient could be. Im sure I wasnt yelling or screaming. So when its ready and its in a cup, the patient little shit I was being had to grab the cup. Of course feeling the heat from the freshly heated water through the cup and my little hands not being used to something so hot, I spilled it down my chest.
Was it hot? Oh yeah. I swear theres a spot on my chest today that is from that. Of course I dont know that for sure. My brother says that the pot of water was on the stove and I reached up and grabbed the handle. Well, hes probably right there. After all he was much older and should be able to remember it better than me so....
My next memories was being in Columbus, Ga. Dont know how old I was but I was young! We lived in this dumpy little place close to the Big Star grocery store. Some of the kids in the neighborhood and I would go in there and steal shit all the time. Once, we went in there so many times in one day that they finally locked the doors on us while we were still in there. Well, I was anyway. So I got caught, they called my mom, and she came. Over to grandpas we went.
Now I dont remember a whole lot about grandpa but what I do remember, was not exactly what I want to remember. He was a big man. As is everyone when your only so tall. He didnt like it if you sat at the table and put your elbows on it while you ate. Watch out! Hed get you. Anyway, mom told him what happened and he got me good. Im not sure but I swear I ran around the house unitl mom caught me and held me so he could spank me with that belt till I didnt want to sit down. Of course I did though.
Grandpa died in 1980, 81, or 82. Im not sure what year exactly. Nor am I sure of his age. I believe he was 64. He died in his sleep from a heart attack I think. I remember the day we found out:
My sister and I rode the bus home and mom was at the bus stop. I pointed out to my sister that mom was there and we were trying to figure out why she was home so early. So we got off and ran to her, got our hugs and kisses and asked what was up. She told us to go on home and wait till "dad" got home and then they would tell us. Man I really thought that were going to be moving or something. I didnt know any better. So "Dad" gets home and they line us up the their bedroom, smallest to biggest, youngest to oldest, I think mom said it. "Grandpas dead." Quiet for a few long seconds or minutes. I was the first to say something. I really didnt speak. I just startied bawling like little baby and slobbering all over moms shirt and coughing and all that extra stuff that goes along with a solid cry.
We lived in Virginia by this time so we had to drive to Columbus. Long trip for a child to sit still and not be a pain in the ass. And Im sure I was. Once we got there to grandmas house and settled in for the night my brother came into the room, I guess to say goodnight to me. I told him to tell grandma that maybe grandpa didnt die, that maybe he just ran off with another woman and would be back soon.
Now, for what reason would I say something so stupid?Where would I even get the idea that something like could even happen? Hell I wasnt all that old! 10 at most? Anyway, "Dad" came in and he sure let me know that I was wrong for saying such a thing as that. Ok now I know I was wrong but hey, I was a kid. Sorry grandma!
I didnt get to go to the funeral. Too young mom said. I wish I could have though. I know as an adult that I loved him as a kid. I hope hes watching over me now. Hell he must be after all the shit Ive done and Im still alive! Thanks dude!
Ok, so I got ahead of myself a little. Heres where things get a little fuzzy as places I lived and in and schools I attended are concerned. I remember names of schools and counties and cities but I dont know the exact places or dates or what county or city a schiool was in. So.... Im sorry.
Anyway, we had moved to Virginia to Colonial Heights. We lived in an apartment complex that I guess was basically falling apart. I can still hear mom complaining about the cabinet doors cfalling off and the drawers facings coming off. Such a long time ago. One day mom sent my brother to get me. I had busted a bottle against the laundromat wall and my brother Russ stepped on the glass from it. On to the hospital to get stitches. I dont think they knew who did that. It was me.
My brother stuck me in a dryer and turned it on there. No it wasnt revenge. We agreed to do it. Around and around I went and it got hot. He let me out fairly quickly.
Well, Im 5 years old now. The big day is today and Im running around all wild and hyped up. Mom and "Dad" are getting married. We bought some shoes, probably hush puppies, for this day and if I get them dirty, its my ass. Well, guess what? While brushing my teeth I spill toothpaste out on the toes of the shoes. Not alot just a little spot. I remember it well. Brown suede and white frothy toothpaste. Colgate. I tried my damndest to clean it so no one would notice but Ill be damned, mom saw it! Can you believe it? She noticed this little speck of a dot of toothpaste that I had spread just a little bit while wiping it off. My mistake.
Anyway, I was an usher at the church. I was running aorund showing people where to sit and doing well. Happy day for us I think.
I went to Dumbarton Elementary School in Colonial Heights. I hated that school I think. Maybe not the school but at least the teacher. I was in kindergarten and something I had done got me in trouble. I had to stay after school and wait for my parents. When they got there I remember that I wound up kicking the teacher in her leg. Yep, I wound up with an ass kicking that night.
While we lived in that apartment complex I was running late for school one morning. I was brushing my teeth and "dad" came into the bathroom to tell me to hurry up. Now I know he didnt mean to do this, but as he was closing the door I went to stick my hand up to say something and got my finger caught in the door. We had to go to the hospital and have my nail removed and bandaged up. Talking about hurting! Yeah, that hurt.
Same place. My sister and I were playing in a ditch that was next to our building when I foumd a sheet of metal and asked everyone if they dared me to jump on it. So like all kids wanting to see something cool, they all said yeah. And I did it. Dumbass! I landed on the corner with my knee and wound up with stitches. Still got the scar to this day.
At some point we moved to Chesterfield County. I loved it there. Behind our house there was a road and then a creek and then the woods. A guy I knew and I would go to the creek almost every weekend and catch crayfish, or crawdads, crawfish, whatever, there all the same. We called it crayfishin'. "Hey man, want to go crayfishin'?" One time we caught this huge one and we kept it. Hey, if you ever catch one with big tough claws, dont mess with it. They dont like to let go and they squeeze. Hard. Very hard.
This same guy, man he tricked me good one time. I love dogs but if theres one dog Im scared of, its an albino German Shephard. Why? Oh boy. Jason talked me into doing something so foolish that I could smack myself today for doing it. "Hey man, I dare you to jump the fence, run towards that dog, stop, turn around and run back to me." Ok people, dont dare someone to do that when a dog is chained up and theres no way for him to reach you. Or so you think!
Well, I did it. Like any redblooded American male child would do. Right? I made it pretty close to the dog before he jumped. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned and ran back. But before I could take two steps that dog was on me like white on rice! He grabbed my knee and wouldnt let go till I hit him 800 times on the head. I know thats an exageration but you get the point.
We were supposed to have prctice at the high school later that day and we did. Only one problem, I could hardly walk o run or do anything. But I tried and tried. I played even though I was hurting like hell. I go thome later that night and as I was getting in the shower, I couldnt do something or it was hurting so bad or something that I went and told my mom what happened. Did I get in trouble? Oh yeah. Plenty. Mom freaked out. We went to the hospital where the doctor told mom that if the dog had bit a centimeter or two deeper, Id be dead. Now I dont beleive that but hey I did back then!
Mom went to that ladies house and basically raised hell with her for nothing. The dog was up to dat ewith shots and I am the one who was antagonizing the dog so, hey it wasnt her fault. Not only that but the dog was chained up and I most definitly got too close to it! Oh well!
Yeah I got into so much trouble for that. Why? Because I was doing something I shouldnt have been doing and I didnt tell right away that I got bit and numerous other things. I heard about it all the way to the hospital. And back.
I got my first and only black eye one year at moms house. My brother and I were playing around in the back yard. Prcaticing my hitting. He was pitching and threw the ball directly at my face. Instead of doing like my coaches always told me to do, I decided to try to hit the ball. But I didnt swing. I just moved the bat in front of my face, the ball richocheted off the th side and hit me right in the eye. Good Golly Miss Molly! That hurt. Needless to say, I didnt play with him anymore for a few weeks of months.
I got into playing baseball for the school. 6 seasons in a row. Man if I didnt have fun with that. No, I wasnt the greatest player in the world but I was ok. We had this one pitcher named Kendrick P. who was awesome. John H. was one badass hitter. He hit a homerun everytime he batted except once. During a game I got hit by a pitcher. Nope, didnt hurt; (you should have seen the way he pitched the ball.) So anyway, John gets up there, Im on firs and heres the pitch. John swings with all his might and I swear the ball goes nowhere. Or at least I thought so. So where did it go? To the second baseman, on the ground, tagging me out and pulling a double play I think.
Those were the times.
Page 2 Isnt here yet so dont click on this link ok?
