I'd like to start with a few notes first: I choose this forum for a reason - some of what I'll be sharing here is true first time confessions, and should prove worthy of this area. I doubt honestly that it could fit any better in another forum, but if a mod feels otherwise - go ahead and move it. - This IS my life story as well as I can recall it, and without any censorship of the truth. I'm going to take some time getting it all down, but will be doing so daily for as long as it takes. Enjoy... At insanejesters request, and for Twist1up4me and our two boys. CHAPTER 1: Feb 13th, 1971 Syracuse, NY 43 minutes shy of Valentines Day Yep, just like the rest of you (I hope), I was born into this world. Of course that IS only a begining, and one of many my life has had - but only the most fitting place to start for this tale. Unfortunatly, at 35 - I remember almost nothing of my first 9 years, but will share what I can rather than simply skipping ahead to the meat. My father was a chef, and active alcoholic. This was his second marriage, and I his second son. My mother was a homemaker or stay-at-home mom, and this was her first marriage and child. She didn't know what she'd gotten into. A little over a year after I was born my sister Lorna came allong, and then just shy of two years after that my second sister Kelly. We lived in and around Syracuse, NY for those first 9 years of my life, and I grew up thinking what we had was the norm. Its funny (in a sad sort of way) how the painful memories always seem that much easier to recall... I can clearly remember how my father would normaly get home round-a-bout 2am after a hard day of work that would always be quickly followed by some heavy drinking. There were 3 possible scenarios to the first few hours following Dads getting home: 1) He would wake me up to watch the good old B&W horror movies while we'd eat turky legs or catfish or something else allong those lines. Those were the good nights, but I have only been able to keep them cherished memories by force. 2) Dad would set off the fire alarms getting us all up. This would seem rather funny to him at the time, but usually led to him loosing his temper with one or all of his famialy. When Dad lost his temper we ALL became victims of both mental and physical abuse. 3) Dad would go to visit mom. Their bedroom was right next to mine in the last house we lived in as a famialy, and I was brought out of my sleep each time by the sounds of him forcing himself on my mother followed by her long suffered beatings. She was expected to perform as he imagined whenever he choose, but I guess she was never quite good enough ultimately. I doubt there was one night when this scene played out that the abuse did not follow. As I had said though - I thought this was normal. Publicly, I grew up as most boys I guess - I went to school, had friends, and loved sports (especially baseball). There was something not quite right though in me - even back then. - At somewhere around the age of 6 - I was one of a small group of boys in my class who made a habit of stealing this girls glasses and not giving them back until she showed us what treasures her panties held. - By age 8 I was already actively searching out my fathers dirty magazines and sharing them with my sisters. Of course, we three had also picked up that little kids game of 'doctor' as well, and explored that regularly. My most vivid childhood memory is of the day when my two sisters and I had the fortune to have Dad home, and at one point we'd all started playing chase or hide-and-seek with him. After some time playing he hid himself in his room while we ran around the rest of the house. Eventually we all gathered at the bedroom door, and I finally mustered the courage to open it. There stood Mom and Dad together naked (to our surprise of course), and he imediately sent us all running to our rooms. It was some time later that he called us back into our parents bedroom and had us sit at the kiddies table that was in there. We were each verbaly torn to shreds, and then forced to slap eachothers hands until we were all crying unrestrained. Of course, after that we were sent back to our rooms were we remained until dinner. Ahh, the good old days... In second grade I met a girl named Beth on the playground one day. I had taken note of her many times before, but never made an aproach - in the end it was she who came forward first. I was standing at this spot on the playground where there was a small stand of evergreens when she came up to me - 'Guess what.' She'd said, and I said 'No, you guess what.'. We both told eachother in the first 2 minutes of our first conversation together that we loved one-another, and my first 'girlfriend' and I started our short lived relationship. On the playground there was this small hill that had been paved over with some shrubs that had sprouted up on one side. Beth and I would share our recesses together there in innocent childhood fashion. There was NEVER anything so dramatic between us as some of my other early highlights above, just simple kissing, talking, and holding hands. I've counted her my first great love ever since, and first great loss. Early summer of 1980 my mother had enough. Bright and early one morn when the famialy was supposed to go on a picnic together (always another battleground in the making) she woke us kids up and packed us into the famialy car. We sped away never looking back to Marthas Vineyard where Mom had some distant famialy. I was never able to say goodbye to Beth... (Stay tuned if you like - chapter 2 to follow.)
CHAPTER 2: For the next 7 years Marthas Vineyard was my home. It was not the best life in any fashion, but those are some of my most vivid memories - both good and bad. To start - my mother introduced us three kids to famialy we'd never known existed. Our arrival took us to Oak Bluffs and my Great Grandmothers house - a wise (but cranky - lol) old woman who was rather hard to aproach, yet at the same time always there with her own special love. My Great Aunt Ruth also summered there with her, and due to my interest in gardening, and her being the gardener in residence we formed a special bond for the short time I knew her. She was quite litteraly the last person anyone would ever expect a 9yr old to find a connection with, but she is also the one who first gave me the gift of loving the outdoors, gardening, and (what eventualy led to my preffered trade as an adult) landscaping. After about three months on the Vineyard my father was finaly able to track us down, and one sunny day he showed up. I clearly remember sitting on the porch doing my thing when this car showed up and he stepped out - I was superman flying off that porch into his arms. That, for my mother, was the begining of the hardest fight of her life - the fight for freedom and safety. Having been married for about 11yrs, my mother finaly got her divorce and some measure of escape from the abuse she'd suffered to that point. However, things did not get any easier - she was still forced to fight him in court for child support, over visitation, and a million other little matters I may never know the whole truth of. At 'home' things were no easier for her either - us kids were constantly fighting with one-another, and she had practicly no money to make ends meet. We moved around those first few years seasonaly, and I am amazed every time I look at my own bills as an adult at how she was somehow able to get us through. A year or so after making that flight my mother did, however, get to the point where she became desperate for some help - not knowing any better (the horror stories had not started showing up in the news yet), she went to DSS to ask for help. Without her ever saying - I know that choice will haunt her to her dying day. I forgave her that decision a long time ago though, and know at least one of my sisters has done the same. We learned (to late) of the evil that infest the government of our great country, and more specificly its Social Services programs. DSS MA NEVER did my famialy any favors, and I now live my life with the greatest of fears for them (in part due to what they did to 'help' us durring my childhood). The only good that ever came to my personal life from them was my childhood involvement in the Big Brother/Big Sister program, and the landscape gardener who first started teaching me his trade as a result. John was an old man by the time I met him, but very much my friend and teacher. The love my Great Aunt had instilled in me of gardening was nurtured by his teachings, and my trade was established. I have only the best memories of him and our time together, but there were also secrets that have never been revealed. John was gay, and I did have some appeal to him. I learned this on my own and quite by accident, but never revealed any of it because I did (and still do) love him. He never did act on his feeling dirrectly though, and that was another reason I kept it to my self - I do NOT want anyone to EVER think poorly of him - he was a great man, and my friend. My first school year there was 3rd grade in Oak Bluffs where I learned how things were to be for me in that environment. I was (as both my sisters were to also find for themselves) an outcast for 2 simple reasons - I was not a born islander, and I was a New Yorker (with an accent - 'Ant' instead of 'Aunt' and ect.). I did make a few friends though none-the-less, and one of them I kept for most of my life. There were 2 or 3 of the boys who used to like to draw swords and the likes on their desks, and I quickly joined in having the same interests. Mike was the best, and we found ourselves both bonded in that and at the same time competitors. He moved to Vineyard Haven about 1/2 way through that school year though, and the rest is now inconsequential in my mind. The next year found Mike and I reunited when my mother moved us to VH as well because that was where she was able to find us a winter residence. A third joined our group about that time as well - Tim. The artwork Mike and I had had some interest in doing the year before carried over after a fashion, and it was Tim who got our little 'outcaste clique' into D&D. I beleive it was about this time that my mother was able to spark Kellys and my interest in reading (fantasy), and combined with this new and exciting game Tim showed me I was hooked. Homework could never be as important to me as D&D, or even whatever book it was that I was reading - they became my most significant teachers, and I will always view them as the basis of my moral views or ideals today. Dispite my own human weaknesses (as you'll all read more about), I honestly see myself as a better person at heart for the lessons I gleaned from those tales of brave knights and the types of characters I made for our gaming sessions that reflected those same traits. - This chapter of my life will have to be continued though. RL calls, and whats to follow is my pain. I guess I am not quite ready to put that part down here today, and I offer my appologies. I will share it all in the end though, so (if you wish) - stay tuned...
