I had the privilege to be born in the richest and most powerful country on the planet. I was lucky enough to be birthed, uneventfully, in a hygienic, sterile, modern hospital, close to adequate resources in the event that labor and delivery went badly. RH-factor was already known thus measures were taken. My parents were, and remain, white, whatever that means anymore. Back in the early sixties, in America, it meant that though we were poor in the socioeconomic strata, we were automatically afforded privileges denied to other segments of our society. About the time I was toddling around with a fistful of Gerber biscuits, black Americans were fighting for the right to vote and my daddy was fighting the Viet Cong. I was lucky enough to be insulated from the ugliness.
As the firstborn child, and the first grandchild, I basked in the glow of adoration, given attention, unquestioned love and affection. I imagine I wanted for nothing much until my first sibling arrived. I was lucky enough to have a sister to share the reality of life. Though we fell into typical sibling rivalry, I learned that the world did not revolve around me. We went from a nuclear family of four, down to a broken family of three when mother left father. I was lucky enough to learn the unpredictibility of life early.
I was bi-coastal by my second birthday, living in Long Beach, California and then Norfolk, Virginia. California, again, when we lost our father, a new father, then off to Illinois. Cross country road trip back to California through Medicine Bow, Wyoming when we left that father. Another new father and eventually, a new state, Colorado. Salt Lake City, Utah to visit my beloved grandparents, then back to California, to the bordertown of Chula Vista this time, but no new father. Road trip to Yellowstone National Park with the grandparents, via Tucumcari, New Mexico on Route 66. Family move to Auburn, Washington, near the Muckleshoot Indian Reservation, again, same father (he was a keeper). Rebound to California, east of San Diego, small sun-soaked town of Santee. Now I am an adult and my travels are my own. I'm lucky enough to be well-traveled in the United States and lucky enough to have a stepfather who stuck.
I was locked in a suitcase by my cousin Paulie when I was 4, molested by my sitter at 5, survived carbon monoxide poisoning shortly thereafter, during our road trip from Illinois to California. The Pacific Ocean nearly claimed me along the shoreline at Seal Beach as I ran in the surf then fell in a hole. A cat burglar climbed in through a window over my head when I was ten, following a booze-fueled party for the guys on board my stepfather's ship. Losing my virginity at fifteen almost cost me my life, as I floated in the ether, then came to in the hospital. I survived rape. I survived my own immature stupidity, putting myself in dangerous places and trusting untrustworthy people. Sometimes, the Chief of Police likes underage girls, and doctors get you stoned and take you to concerts. I'm lucky enough to have survived my childhood and thrived despite it.
I attended many different schools, too many to name, to the tune of two per year. I'm lucky enough to have graduated high school with high marks, then love learning enough to go back to school and earn a degree in accounting at forty. I lived in seven different states and twenty or more different towns. I'm lucky enough to live in the best and most beautiful state.
As the firstborn child, and the first grandchild, I basked in the glow of adoration, given attention, unquestioned love and affection. I imagine I wanted for nothing much until my first sibling arrived. I was lucky enough to have a sister to share the reality of life. Though we fell into typical sibling rivalry, I learned that the world did not revolve around me. We went from a nuclear family of four, down to a broken family of three when mother left father. I was lucky enough to learn the unpredictibility of life early.
I was bi-coastal by my second birthday, living in Long Beach, California and then Norfolk, Virginia. California, again, when we lost our father, a new father, then off to Illinois. Cross country road trip back to California through Medicine Bow, Wyoming when we left that father. Another new father and eventually, a new state, Colorado. Salt Lake City, Utah to visit my beloved grandparents, then back to California, to the bordertown of Chula Vista this time, but no new father. Road trip to Yellowstone National Park with the grandparents, via Tucumcari, New Mexico on Route 66. Family move to Auburn, Washington, near the Muckleshoot Indian Reservation, again, same father (he was a keeper). Rebound to California, east of San Diego, small sun-soaked town of Santee. Now I am an adult and my travels are my own. I'm lucky enough to be well-traveled in the United States and lucky enough to have a stepfather who stuck.
I was locked in a suitcase by my cousin Paulie when I was 4, molested by my sitter at 5, survived carbon monoxide poisoning shortly thereafter, during our road trip from Illinois to California. The Pacific Ocean nearly claimed me along the shoreline at Seal Beach as I ran in the surf then fell in a hole. A cat burglar climbed in through a window over my head when I was ten, following a booze-fueled party for the guys on board my stepfather's ship. Losing my virginity at fifteen almost cost me my life, as I floated in the ether, then came to in the hospital. I survived rape. I survived my own immature stupidity, putting myself in dangerous places and trusting untrustworthy people. Sometimes, the Chief of Police likes underage girls, and doctors get you stoned and take you to concerts. I'm lucky enough to have survived my childhood and thrived despite it.
I attended many different schools, too many to name, to the tune of two per year. I'm lucky enough to have graduated high school with high marks, then love learning enough to go back to school and earn a degree in accounting at forty. I lived in seven different states and twenty or more different towns. I'm lucky enough to live in the best and most beautiful state.
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