My Past

A willingness to be open about myself and a journey to find out where I strayed from the path and how it happened…Chapter 1

Regret: Chapter 2

My Castle: Chapter 3:

A Place In The Light

Toby

As My Pen Gently Weeps

R.I.P Kyrie Jacobsen

Sun Flyer

Trenches

Dark Path

 

So how am I gonna start this…

I guess you could say, or not, since you weren’t here with me during my life, that all people have their own struggles and until recently, very recently that is, I was not aware there were other beings on this earth and never paid them any attention.

I love life….        I just wish it would love me back sometimes.

First things first…

I loved my parents very much.

We don’t talk to each other anymore…

Well, my Dads dead….So he has a good reason to not call.

He drops into my dreams now and again….

It’s always good to see him.

You’ll see this is a prevalent “thing” with most of my family. It’s understood that we all love each other, thought of daily, we evidently don’t need constant contact, and generally ignore each other…at least that’s my end of the stick.

The older you get, the more you realize that this is bogus.

You need family always… it’s all we have…some of us.

Some not it seems.

YAY ME!!

I miss my dad very much. He died in 2001.

The same year as Dale Earnhardt.

I lost both my heroes in the same year.                                                                          

I was born in Biloxi, Mississippi on September 5th, 1964 on Keesler AFB.

I don’t remember much about it though, I was still young…

I don’t even know how long I was in Mississippi with my parents. My mom never said and I don’t remember asking.

My dad was an USAF airman that was working with early radar systems and my mom was just a little Cajun girl.

She was born in Sulphur, Louisiana on October 10th, 1947. So that means she was almost 17 when I was hatched.

My dad always told me they found me by the railroad tracks eating spiders…?

Sometimes I wish that were true.

Unique….

My dad was born in Edison, Georgia, on May 1, 1942, so he was…what…22 then?

Close enough.

One thing my dad’s younger siblings and assorted cousins mentioned (when pressed) was that his dad (Pawpaw) was extremely hard on him.

He beat him with boards or fishing poles, practically anything he could grab at the time but, of course, others beg to differ on the severity of these punishments.

It was a different time then.

Probably these days my Pawpaw would be doing 5 to 10 at the state work farm for child abuse.

My dad, the younger, was skinny with a square head.

He was the secretary of his FFA group that went to the Kansas City Convention and the 1959 Florida State horseshoe champ.

He played his best horseshoes when he was drunk. He was an intense competitor (he didn’t care if you were 3 years old or not), and he was a terrible loser.

Terrible….Loser.

This made it all the sweeter to beat him…But I can’t remember ever doing it or seeing it done…

But when he was deep in his cups and drinking liquor, that’s where B.C lived;

In the dark place.

You didn’t beat B.C…at anything.

Not if it killed him….

Granny (his mama), always said she thought, that dad was never the same after he got “those shots” while in Air Force basic training. I think he went through the training in San Antonio, Texas.

He wanted to go to college for Journalism, but ended up as a pipefitter/welder.

The paths we choose…. C’est la vie!

He smoked 3 packs a day, drank a lot of coffee, and was EXTREMELY high strung!

Drinking made him mean (that’s where B.C lived)…in the dark place.

He was, early in my life, (until I fled ‘home’ at 16)…in my opinion and recall, abusive.

Both mentally and physically…to me

Their Dad was different from mine…but the same guy.

Know what I mean?

He was holier than thou, manipulative, insulting, and had a God complex.

He was extremely intelligent and knew it.

BC did not suffer fools.

He had no use for others he considered “culls”.

He had little patience with anyone over the age of 16… no one more than me.

When you ask my uncle and others, that were in “the know”… ask him/them how I was treated as a kid…his/their faces get very dark with very few kind things to say about his/their beloved older brother/nephew/cousin.

Dear old dad.

Another thing that baffles some people not directly related to the family is that children adored him.

So did I… Even through all the crazy times.

For all the bad times, he was still my dad.

He did throw balls with me, took me fishing occasionally, and I remember going hunting with him twice.

We chased stray chickens at the Cagle’s plant…Now that was fun.

Oh yeah…he bought me clothes and fed me…plus a house or 4.

I was an ungrateful tyke.

2

 I remember good Christmases…

There was a model jet that made smoke and screamed… a G.I Joe with kung fu grip and underwater gear, a BB gun, a Swiss Army knife, and a .410 shot gun.

GOTTA LOVE US REDNECKS HUH?!

He was also a very good guitar player and singer and actually recorded a record. He was on local T.V and radio.

I don’t remember him once sitting down and teaching me chords. I learned by watching.

I taught myself the guitar, drums, bass, piano and trumpet.

Mostly I learned from watching the musicians around him.

I guess I wanted to show him I could do it, or…just because I was interested in learning them at that time.

I can’t remember.

Lots of childhood memories are lost I’m afraid.

I don’t believe I ever really tried to learn anything special or do anything where his scrutiny could possibly be involved.

 I did not test those waters.     

Anyways, not beating my poor old Dads memory…Change of thought process for a second…

My mom says I used to take the blame, or something like it, for my brother and sisters, to protect them from punishments.

She said that I used to wake my brother up at night after an accident, and change his sheets, so that he wouldn’t get in trouble the next day.

The only way I remember these things is by people telling me about it.

But I was also cruel to my siblings.

Figure that….

Love and pain…….I still can’t understand why.

Don’t get me wrong…I love them all fiercely… But I was hateful and abusive to them.

I was acting out people may say now…

I just wanted to hurt something…

I was only a kid myself…..

Their Dad was different from mine…but the same guy.

 Know what I mean?

I can never forgive myself for that stuff though….

I didn’t know how to be then.

I was one messed up little boy…you’ll see later.

My examples in parenting were poor indeed.

Don’t get me wrong, I am aware that all Moms and Dads are human too and have their own faults, issues…baggage?

They can’t shoulder all the blame.

Speaking of which, I have not been a positive role model toward my own progeny, by any measure.

A good example of what NOT to do you might say.

(Extremely immature and naïve am I)

 I didn’t even start to gain any semblance of maturity until I reached my early 40s’ for crying out loud!

 I swear it runs in the males of this family! 

I made horrific decisions (meant well), was irresponsible (meant well), and a terrible liar.

Telling people what they wanted to hear, so not to disappoint or hurt them.

I thought…..

In all honesty…It was to keep me out of trouble or shine in their eyes.

I was just a kid then…

The lying continued.

In my misperceptions and distorted way of coping, I was sparing them and myself I guess.

I never considered that it hurt them more to be lied to, or else I just didn’t care.

A little bit of both maybe….

What a bastard I must be…here…in this awake place.

I was unaware, or probably couldn’t have cared less about these consequences… I really can’t say.

Thinking about it now, this path was influenced by my parents.

I called it “self preservation”…

To lie, or get the shit beat out of me. 

Most times over nothing…NOTHING!!!

Lying was a crutch for me…a tried and tested action that lasted way after leaving home.

But lying is a very, very bad habit.

I found out too late that is a terrible thing not to be trusted… It is almost impossible to regain trust…

You never can completely.

A boy crying wolf….

Alas, accepting ones faults, putting them behind you, is the road to redemption and peace of mind and soul…

A possible awakening….

Anywho…..

I remember times that my dad could be very cruel to my mom.

I don’t remember any physical abuse, but definitely mental.

He spoke down to her a lot… said she was worthless and other ugly things. 

Then, he would switch (snap!) just like that, and be very loving toward her.

It depended totally on his moods or the blood level in his alcohol.

There were many moods in the dark place where BC lived.

Weird it was.   

Their Dad was different from mine…but the same guy. Know what I mean?

I also remember mom making us pack our clothes in garbage bags a lot, because we were going to leave… go anywhere, “I can’t take it anymore!” She’d scream.

I don’t remember if we ever did.

It never happened when I was there. He’d have hunted her down and killed her!

I do recall him putting a gun to moms head in front of his friends (people who worked for him I should say) thoroughly terrifying and embarrassing mom.

That was old B.C…Dear old Dad.

In hindsight (percentage wise…60-40) he was always putting her down.

Probably to get a power fix.

I don’t know if his tenderness toward her was just for show or not. It depended totally on his moods or whomever he wanted to show his dominance to…and of course, alcohol intake.

My mom’s the only one who could tell you that.           

3

I don’t remember exactly where I attended kindergarten, but I do remember learning to count to 10 in Spanish (can still rip ‘em off today!)

I remember getting glasses….Corrective lenses they called them…hmmp…looked like “four eyes” to me.

Now I’m wearing them to write this….

I remember stealing kisses under a table in second grade (Sherry Parrot).

I remember being in Georgia through the fourth grade, then some place called West Virginia, riding really fast on my Uncle Butchs motorcycle (A Honda…754 Special)

Cool.

I remember peeking at Mom and Dad through their window while they were doing the big nasty (that was frightening)

I got the Birds and Bees talk that day.

It didn’t look like Birds and Bees to me…looked more like…fish on a beach.

Back to Georgia and the 5th grade with Mrs. Salter. …..

She’s the teacher who told my mom that I had audio-sensory deprivation.

What?! …How long does he have!!

This is also about the time that the abuse at the hands of Ricky Moore started…

More on that later…maybe.

I’m still working that part out.

We stayed in Middle Georgia until the 7^th grade was over, ending up in SW Georgia (Blakely) for the 8th -11th grade.

Then on to Fritch, Texas!

I will have a whole other post on Fritch, Texas later… 

But, I digress…

I remember in the fourth grade of being beaten to the point of blood by my Dad for drawing a picture of a naked lady. Afterwards I was made to soak in a tub with Epsom salt…also a courtesy of dear old Dad.

Why are the terrible times easier to recall…because I was young or it was more traumatic?

Their Dad was different from mine…but the same guy. Know what I mean?

4

The effect of a parents actions truly last a lifetime don’t they?

It’s up to me to try and fix it I reckon.

But with absolutely no freaking normalcy or anything akin to it or to draw experience and/or wisdom from how does one go about it?

By watching others?

Does the phrase,” fucked from the get go” seem appropriate?

Are we? Am I? Was I?

It is very…very difficult to change ones behavior when the pool of knowledge they have drawn from is…. tainted… poisoned even.

People don’t understand…they judge through their own experiences, their own perceptions…they can’t understand your life…there’s no way for them to.

Good for them says I.

Honestly…

I was schooled in manners and the like for appearances sake.

It was expected that all young southern boys have manners.

Yeah, maybe the basics you know…control tactics to show what great parents they were… “Yes ma’am” “No sir”

What BS…..

I got so tired of hearing, “They’re so well mannered”.

How about fucking terrified not to do it?!

Well, this is what my blog is all about.

Self enlightenment…

Finding out why I am or was so screwed up!

It’s all about me (did that come across right?)

Of finding out why…

For a very long time I believed that I am a defective unit, or what I “deem” as defective.

Hopefully, this will help or aid, or just try and explain to my kid and others I have hurt, what made me …me.

Why I did the things I did…

I wanted to be like “normal” people.

Beaver Cleaver and all that crap!

I wanted to CARE if things go bad… to CARE if I fail…to CARE if I hurt people’s feelings.

To know WHY? 

I want these efforts to help set me on the right path. I want to remove the regrets in my life… to better understand myself…to be the man I always hoped to be… you know, like everyone else…

Not be me.

I want to be free of regret.

I want to find places in my heart to forgive myself and others.

I will not lie on this blog…I will not hide my faults.

I am 49 years old now, and I am tired…so tired of dealing with demons.

I must try and be humble in my life.

My belief structure is wide and ever evolving.

I have no fear in the task I have set for myself.

I am only a man.

I am only Me.