I first remember thinking something isn't right, when I bounded out of the doors at Bloomfield Elementary school, in the third grade, and looked around the large playground for something to do at recess. It was in the mid 60's. I was never much into drama. Causing it or dealing with it. At the time I guess I thought everyone was basically good and kind. You know, help each other, be friendly, join in.
I walked up to a small gathering of girls that had a long jump rope. Two of them had the ends and one (sometimes two) were in the middle, jumping to the rhythm of the ropes. It looked like something I could do. "I would like to play!" The look of "Who do you think you are?" came on all their faces simultaneously . Who would't want one more friend? We all were in the same class. I don't understand that reaction. A clique in 3rd grade?
I walked away broken hearted and have never really been the same since. My innocence was damaged. This blog will be the collection of life stories that I have endured, enjoyed and experienced in my 56 years. Some will be just plain unbelievable. I have never had anything happen that I would call real grief. Just an unending stream of circumstances that I never really asked for yet got handed anyway.
It started with a pretty typical all American family. My parents had two sons and two daughters. Everything seemed "normal" until they got divorced. That was really rough on me. I guess it is for most people. I kind of blocked out some of those years. Don't remember much. Little snippets here and there. I knew even then that I was not like the rest. I always had a different way, a different outlook, a different answer.
I could say I sorta liked high school and sorta didn't. I liked the idea of it but not really the way it was going for me. I took the ACT or SAT with aspirations of someday going to college. Thought I might like to be a professional photographer for some newspaper or a social worker and helping others. I did not find out that I aced the test with top 10% in the state until the day I graduated. I went to college a little bit. An advanced writing class and pilot school.
I went to work at 18 for Frito Lay as a sales rep/driver. I met a guy while driving the route. He thought I was a guy. He saw me one night at the Clark Lake Lodge, slightly dressed
as a girl and came up to inquire if I was the same guy that drove the Frito Lay truck. I married him then proceeded to have three sons. That is when the fight started.
I filed for divorce over 20 years ago. I have struggled with relationships since then. I guess you could say before that too....and during. Well, that would be all the time. I try but nothing seems to work.
A lot of people that I know have suggested that I write the stories of my life, so far. You will laugh and you might cry. Some of it is very sad and some of the characters I have met are crazy. I believe that you wake up in the morning and do the best that you can do and always be proud of the choices that you make. Somewhere in the day you try to help someone less fortunate than yourself and then you lay your head down again and give thanks for your blessings.
I might not find the time to write every day but I will write when the mood strikes me or when the next story comes to mind. There are hundreds of them.
I may or may not change the names. The rest will be the truth, as I see it.
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