In the beginning

Welcome to a small slice of America as viewed through my life. As we all come to an age where we see the aspirations of our youth fall to pieces, and you realize that this is as good as it gets, you might want to leave something behind that someone might find interesting or humorous. I do not recommend anyone follow the same path that I have, it was interesting, but some things I would not do again. I also wrote this blog, to help battle depression, upon a suggestion by a therapist.

The age old question; was I planned for? Many people came to be born by accident, but not me I was definitely planned for. My dad who was an advertising salesman, had just recently gone through a divorce, and had one kid (living with the mom) already. The year was 1964. He was getting his suit cleaned at the cleaners for about $3.00 when he picked up the suit and went to pay for it the lady at the counter said $3.18. He said what was the .18 for? She said why that is the tax. To which his pre-practiced reply was, "I don't need tacks, I have a whole box of them at home." Corny? yes but it was the start of his relationship with my mom. Now my mom, Jean was raised by a family that emigrated from the Ukraine. So she was dressed down, and would tie the top of her stockings in little knots so they would not fall down. Due to her innocence, she found my fast talking dad to be exciting, and everything she did not see in her home life. As they dated, she slowly came out of her shell. My dad encouraged her to dress better and put on makeup. He tought her how to drive, and encouraged her to speak up. This new Jean looked great, she felt free, and out of her shell. Well maybe a little too free. As my dad went to pick up his suit from the cleaners, he saw Jean pop up from behind the counter, glasses crooked, hair disheveled, clothes dirty. He ask her what was she doing? She said, Oh just cleaning the shelves behind the counter. Well this sounded very improbable, to my dad, so he realized that the screen door to the cleaners squeaked and probably tipped her off. So the next week, my dad oiled the door, and came into the cleaner quietly. He found Jean half naked with a large strapping Italian (the owner) on top of her. Now this would infuriate most men, they would either pick a fight with the competition or leave the girl or both, but not my dad, he was diabolical in his actions. He pretended to be hurt and then after a period of time made up. He helped her find a new job and they continued on with their sexual relationship only this time he used no protection. Sure enough she became pregnant. Her family would shame her, maybe disown her due to her strong ethnic background and the fact that society in 1965 looked down on single moms. My dad knew all of this, he said we will have to hide you from your friends and family until we can figure this out. He had her move out, and she told her family that she was moving to Washington DC for a better job. After she moved out and looked definitely pregnant, he said," tough shit. You wanted to screw that wop, now see if he will take you back because I 'm out of here." And with that he left, and my mom, all alone, with no job, no family, and a room that she would have to vacate in a month.

Love Child?

Some unplanned pregnancies can be called a love child. I was born out of revenge and anger. In 1965, abortions happened, but not as prevalent as today. Jean did the best she could, she got a job as a Linotype operator at a local news paper. As time went by I guess my dad felt guilty about what he did, but it also occurred, to him that this might not be his child. He thought Jean might be pregnant by the Italian. Never the less my dad started to show up on my moms doorstep, and I guess they patched things up for now. On Dec. 19th 1965 I was born. I was named William, by my dad because he liked the actor William Holden. During this time my dad bounced around from job to job due to health problems ( he had chronic dysentery). By this time he was selling magnetic signs to businesses, because if he was too weak to work it didn't matter because he was on straight commission. They moved into a 2 room apartment in a row house in a low class neighborhood. It was 35th Street, and my dad used to call me the miracle on 35th Street. My mom harbored no such feelings, to her at that time, I was still a vengeance weapon of my dad, and she still had a roving eye. My dad would be away from home for long hours and it was common for him to return home at 8 or 9PM. I was just about the age where I could craw, when upon returning home, there was a note on the door that said, William fell down the cellar steps, we're at children's hospital. When my dad got there, I was unconscious with my eyes rolling back up in my head. He asked my mom what happened, after all there were only 2 rooms and a locked door to the cellar. She said, I don't know, I just was reading and he was there one minute and the next he was gone, and I heard a noise and found him at the bottom of the cellar steps. (Just a side note, a study was done with crawling infants where they put a piece of Plexiglas over steps. All the babies explored the room but none crawled out on the Plexiglas.) Eventually I became conscious, and was released to my parents. Two thoughts went through my dad's head. 1) if he continued with his long hours, this might happen again, and 2) if my mom were to work he could stay and watch me until she came home and the he would take me and my mom out with him when he sold signs. We would just wait in the car until he returned. So my mom got a job as a typist in the city, and this is how things went for about a year. We then moved into a duplex, and my dad's health was getting worse, he had no energy, was always going to the bathroom and hardly worked. I was about 1.5 years old, by now there was no ambiguity over who was my dad, my ears stuck out, fair skin and freckles light hair, yep just like my dad. My mom started telling my dad that this nice SINGLE young man at work wanted to come out to see the baby. My dad wanted no part of this, and denied the visit. Well some how he had to go to the doctor, and I was left alone with my mom. Guess what, I fell on my head again only this time she told him that I rolled off the bed. That was about all my dad could take, he knew that if he left me this would happen again, he never left me alone with my mom again. At about 2, I was taken to a baby sitter during the day, while both my parents were at work. Our rented duplex was the last house on a dead end street. We had a fenced in yard that overlooked a steep bluff. My mom and I would sit on the back porch watching the tinny cars on the highway below us. We would play a game of guessing which headlights were cars, motorcycles, trucks and pedidles (cars with one light burned out). On most days you could smell the Braun Bakery making Towntalk bread over the hill. I was a curious little boy, as all little boys are, and we had cinder blocks at the end of our dead end street. I always wondered if my foot could fit inside the hole in the cinder block, but my parents would not let me play down there. My dad parked his car at the end of the dead end street, and my only chance to find out if my foot would fit inside was when we were on our way out or coming home. This was my mission, at 3 years old, so one day on our way out, I stuck my foot into the block, guess what it fit perfectly. Getting it out was another story, my dad and mom were already opening the doors, and my dad noticed that I was nowhere near the car. He ask me what was I doing. I told him I was tieing my shoe (my first known lie) to which he said you don't know how to tie your shoes. Just then my foot came free, and my embarrassment was averted. Our neighbor was an old lady that my dad referred to as "the witch lady" She was single and old, and would have tea parties for all the little girls in the neighborhood, no boys. She would yell at any boys that even came near her house. One day, I was playing in our yard with my trucks, on a little patch of dirt, she started yelling at me about throwing dust and dirt every where, my dad came out and said "William is not doing anything wrong, there is not dust or dirt anywhere" The next day I went to play in my little pile of dirt only to find broken glass mixed in it.
I was just about potty trained, and did not wear diapers any more. Well I guess one time I must have forgot, and pooped my pants. My dad was mad and he figured on a way to train me once and for all. He put a little piece of poop on my nose, about the size of a q-tip swab. He then held me up to the mirror. I kept yelling and crying "take it off, take it off" I guess when he thought the message sunk in, he cleaned me up. I guess it worked, I never soiled my self again. I did have friends come over a few of the were kind of humorous. The one friend was only known to me as the money kid. His parents could be heard arguing all over the neighborhood, he would come over my house and would say,"money money money.....money money money" I guess his parents argued over the bills a lot. I had another friend Rickey, whose mom would baby sit sometimes. He had the greatest collection of metal cars and trucks that I ever saw. But his parents would not let him play with them, they all had to stay in the original boxes, and only his parents were allowed to take them out for show only, boy what a gyp for a 4 year old. I grew up watching Captain Kangaroo and a new show called Mister Rodgers. Before the Captain came on I would catch the end of a scuba diving show with Loyd Bridges, I think it was called Sea Quest. I knew some day that would be me diving underwater. About this time Martin Luther King was assassinated, and riots were happening all over the country. One day my mom left work as usual, and came to pick me up from the baby sitters. On the steps of the baby sitter there was a group of black high school girls. My mom ask if she could go up the steps to pick her son up. They said, we ain't movin fo no white honkey. My mom said that she would just wait until they moved. They said the only time we're going to move is to beat your ass. So my mom went home and told my dad about the incident. My dad said I will get them to move and I won't even say a word. My dad said get the gas can and matches...I will pour a small amount of gas in the street and light it...then I will start walking toward them with the gas, and I bet they will move before I have to do anything more. Well they went back and the girls were gone, so they picked me up without incident. Also during this time the Vietnam war was current. My mom was laid off work. My mom asked why was she being laid off, and her manager said, we got troops coming back from Nam, they need jobs so I have to lay you and a few of the other girls off, it's the least I could do for the boys since they fought for our country. This happened in October and we knew we could not afford the duplex so with our meager savings we moved into a row house in a even lower class neighborhood we had enough for about 3 months rent and very little to eat. My dads health was at a point where he only worked once or twice a week. The year was 1969. We had to sell our car for rent and food. My mom knew if the family was going to be saved she would have to do something, but looking for a job around Christmas and winter, did not look too promising.