Well, I thought I should at least put something about myself other than random musings about my opinions and things I find funny. So, where do I start. Well, I was born in Brookings, South Dakota. I don't know a thing about the place. See, my father was an officer in the U.S. Army, so I was there for less than 6 months. I then moved to Fulda, West Germany with my family. This is where I have my first memory...I think. I remember my sister, Kelly, waking up early one morning and getting dressed for school and it was a holiday. My parent's asked her what she was doing all dressed up on her day off and everyone laughed. I guess that isn't such a bad memory. We lived there a few years and then we moved back the the U.S., to Springfield, VA. We lived there for a couple of years. I remember living on a Culde Sac and having a friend named Mark. I also remember getting in my parents car, starting it, and having everyone panic because they thought I was going to drive it through the house. I don't remember much from that, just that I did it with my friend and we thought it was funny. Also, I remember our Cockerspaniel and Irish Setter got in a big fight and the Irish Setter got the Cokerspaniel by the neck and killed him. Sad memory....
I know, this is all very boring, but the good stuff is coming...I promise--after all, I was only around 4. We then moved to Colorado Springs, Colorado, where my father worked at Fort Carson, and my mother worked at a psychiatric institution called, Brady's--I think it was later re-named Cedar Springs, but don't quote me. We lived in Colorado Springs for four or five years. I argue with my sister about that, because I think it was 4 years, she thinks five. Who really cares, but it was the longest we lived anywhere for more than a couple of years. I remember those years as being particularly happy for our family. While in Colorado, my sister went through her teenage years, experiencing all that teenagers experience. She argued with my mother a great deal, ran away from home, and was generally a big pain in the ass. I used to be frightened when they would argue and I would hide and pretend that no one could find me. This is when things started going a little south....in the family. Suddenly our picture-perfect family was not so picture perfect. Something was not right, I just never could put my finger on it. Not that, at the wise age of 8 I was really doing a deep psychological inventory of all my family members, but even as a child I knew something was wrong..I just didn't know what. I had a lot of great friends in Colorado. Seemed like a normal life. My family protected me from all the evils of the world. The most I was exposed to was Nightline and the nightly news--both of which freaked me out. I remember thinking that the world was a big, scary place.
It was during our time in Colorado that I noticed my mothers temper. She didn't know how to control it. I didn't know that at the time, but I do now. She would go into uncontrollable rages and make everyone in the family feel terrible about themselves. It didn't matter who it was, my sister, my father, or me. She would put us all down. She would demean my father and his family as if they were trash. It was horrible. I remember crying about it all the time. She would call me sissy and make fun of me. She made fun of my sister and her friends. Looking back now, she was utterly uncontrollable, but, we loved her. My father never stood up to her. He would just take it and move on. My sister would stand up to her, but even she began to relent. I, well, I was too young to know any better. I thought I was somehow flawed, a bad person. After all, that is my mother, the person who gave birth to me, feeds me, and supposedly loves me. What is a child supposed to think-she must be right. For years I thought my fathers passivity was admirable, now I think otherwise. Why didn't he stand up for himself, why didn't he tell the bitch off? Why? To this day my dad still doesn't. He is a weak character.
After Colorado we moved to Washington, DC. My father worked in the Pentagon then. He really loved his job. As a matter of fact, my father loved his job more than he loved his own family. He was utterly consumed by it. I am sure it was an escape from the horrow of his family life. But instead of being a man, he retreated into his work. He worked long hours, was gone for months on end. Sometimes we didn't see him for 6 months when he was gone for Military excersizes. I used to think that he would rather be at work than with his family. Now, I know that is true. I even confronted him on it, and he didn't deny it. He just told me " I hope you learn faster than I did". Our time in DC was short, a couple of years. I had some casual sexual encounters here, but nothing serious. The kids in DC were far more advanced than those in Colorado. In Colorado we were still "playing" outside and in DC they were "playing" but with each other.
Then we moved to Germany again. This time Wiesbaden. I was now in junior high. Things were okay, but I didn't have any friends and it was hard to make friends. Adolscence was hard. Everything was a popularity contest. I wasn't the most popular kid, but I was far from the least popular...kind of in the middle. But, it was a hard time. When isn't it, right? I had the hardest time making friends. Pretty soon I just stopped trying. I was friendly with alot of people, but it just didn't go much deeper. That was real hard for me. Germany was great. Got to do alot of wonderful things, see beautiful places, overall, I think it was fine-even with puberty. At this point, my father had made some rank. So, we were living nicely and people really respected my dad. Why not, he spent all of his time at work. I am all for hard work, but come on...
Then we moved back to Colorado Springs. This time we lived on Base because my father was a commander. Everyone knew who my father was. I could only hang out with people who weren't threatened by my fathers position, or kids whose fathers had a higher rank than my fathers, and that was about 3 families. It became even more isolating, so I started hanging out with kids off base. Kids whose parents wouldn't know or care about who my father was. This worked. I got to be friends with some real cool people. I worked at a pizzaria and a movie theatre. I juggled the two jobs, plus academic clubs, running in track, and having a social life. I was really doing well. Then one day I came home and my mother had fallen down the stairs and was lying bleeding at the bottom of the stairs. I ran down to see what was wrong and she had fallen. She was slurring her words, I couldn't understand a thing she was saying. Although my mother occassionally talked this way, I never saw her fall down stairs before. Even though my mother pleaded with me not to call an ambulance because it would "ruin your fathers career" I called one. The ambulance came and took her away. When the paramedics came into the house, one said on the CB that "it smelt like a brewery in here". That is when my world came crashing down on me, or so I thought. I found out what I had known all along...my mother was an alcoholic. Not just someone who got drunk by accident, but a fall down drunk. My mothers erratic behavior, her irrational bouts of anger and rage, all of it...It all made more sense now. As usual, my father was away in Europe and couldn't be reached. So I nursed my mother back to health. She trembled, had the DTs, the whole ten yards. I felt terrible for her. And yet I was so furious, so furious. I felt lied to. I felt like I couldn't trust anyone, anymore. Apparently everyone knew but me. Even my sister. The strange thing is, even though I didn't know, I knew something was wrong, because I would always pray to god every night to let my mom be okay "like she was in Colorado". I knew that whatever was wrong with my mom, I hoped that god could help her. Enough for now............
I know, this is all very boring, but the good stuff is coming...I promise--after all, I was only around 4. We then moved to Colorado Springs, Colorado, where my father worked at Fort Carson, and my mother worked at a psychiatric institution called, Brady's--I think it was later re-named Cedar Springs, but don't quote me. We lived in Colorado Springs for four or five years. I argue with my sister about that, because I think it was 4 years, she thinks five. Who really cares, but it was the longest we lived anywhere for more than a couple of years. I remember those years as being particularly happy for our family. While in Colorado, my sister went through her teenage years, experiencing all that teenagers experience. She argued with my mother a great deal, ran away from home, and was generally a big pain in the ass. I used to be frightened when they would argue and I would hide and pretend that no one could find me. This is when things started going a little south....in the family. Suddenly our picture-perfect family was not so picture perfect. Something was not right, I just never could put my finger on it. Not that, at the wise age of 8 I was really doing a deep psychological inventory of all my family members, but even as a child I knew something was wrong..I just didn't know what. I had a lot of great friends in Colorado. Seemed like a normal life. My family protected me from all the evils of the world. The most I was exposed to was Nightline and the nightly news--both of which freaked me out. I remember thinking that the world was a big, scary place.
It was during our time in Colorado that I noticed my mothers temper. She didn't know how to control it. I didn't know that at the time, but I do now. She would go into uncontrollable rages and make everyone in the family feel terrible about themselves. It didn't matter who it was, my sister, my father, or me. She would put us all down. She would demean my father and his family as if they were trash. It was horrible. I remember crying about it all the time. She would call me sissy and make fun of me. She made fun of my sister and her friends. Looking back now, she was utterly uncontrollable, but, we loved her. My father never stood up to her. He would just take it and move on. My sister would stand up to her, but even she began to relent. I, well, I was too young to know any better. I thought I was somehow flawed, a bad person. After all, that is my mother, the person who gave birth to me, feeds me, and supposedly loves me. What is a child supposed to think-she must be right. For years I thought my fathers passivity was admirable, now I think otherwise. Why didn't he stand up for himself, why didn't he tell the bitch off? Why? To this day my dad still doesn't. He is a weak character.
After Colorado we moved to Washington, DC. My father worked in the Pentagon then. He really loved his job. As a matter of fact, my father loved his job more than he loved his own family. He was utterly consumed by it. I am sure it was an escape from the horrow of his family life. But instead of being a man, he retreated into his work. He worked long hours, was gone for months on end. Sometimes we didn't see him for 6 months when he was gone for Military excersizes. I used to think that he would rather be at work than with his family. Now, I know that is true. I even confronted him on it, and he didn't deny it. He just told me " I hope you learn faster than I did". Our time in DC was short, a couple of years. I had some casual sexual encounters here, but nothing serious. The kids in DC were far more advanced than those in Colorado. In Colorado we were still "playing" outside and in DC they were "playing" but with each other.
Then we moved to Germany again. This time Wiesbaden. I was now in junior high. Things were okay, but I didn't have any friends and it was hard to make friends. Adolscence was hard. Everything was a popularity contest. I wasn't the most popular kid, but I was far from the least popular...kind of in the middle. But, it was a hard time. When isn't it, right? I had the hardest time making friends. Pretty soon I just stopped trying. I was friendly with alot of people, but it just didn't go much deeper. That was real hard for me. Germany was great. Got to do alot of wonderful things, see beautiful places, overall, I think it was fine-even with puberty. At this point, my father had made some rank. So, we were living nicely and people really respected my dad. Why not, he spent all of his time at work. I am all for hard work, but come on...
Then we moved back to Colorado Springs. This time we lived on Base because my father was a commander. Everyone knew who my father was. I could only hang out with people who weren't threatened by my fathers position, or kids whose fathers had a higher rank than my fathers, and that was about 3 families. It became even more isolating, so I started hanging out with kids off base. Kids whose parents wouldn't know or care about who my father was. This worked. I got to be friends with some real cool people. I worked at a pizzaria and a movie theatre. I juggled the two jobs, plus academic clubs, running in track, and having a social life. I was really doing well. Then one day I came home and my mother had fallen down the stairs and was lying bleeding at the bottom of the stairs. I ran down to see what was wrong and she had fallen. She was slurring her words, I couldn't understand a thing she was saying. Although my mother occassionally talked this way, I never saw her fall down stairs before. Even though my mother pleaded with me not to call an ambulance because it would "ruin your fathers career" I called one. The ambulance came and took her away. When the paramedics came into the house, one said on the CB that "it smelt like a brewery in here". That is when my world came crashing down on me, or so I thought. I found out what I had known all along...my mother was an alcoholic. Not just someone who got drunk by accident, but a fall down drunk. My mothers erratic behavior, her irrational bouts of anger and rage, all of it...It all made more sense now. As usual, my father was away in Europe and couldn't be reached. So I nursed my mother back to health. She trembled, had the DTs, the whole ten yards. I felt terrible for her. And yet I was so furious, so furious. I felt lied to. I felt like I couldn't trust anyone, anymore. Apparently everyone knew but me. Even my sister. The strange thing is, even though I didn't know, I knew something was wrong, because I would always pray to god every night to let my mom be okay "like she was in Colorado". I knew that whatever was wrong with my mom, I hoped that god could help her. Enough for now............
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