Freshman year...

9th Grade

It's Sunday night and I am talking with my aunt about the clothes that I should wear to my first day of school in High School. At the time, I didn't have that many new clothes but what I had I did like because two of the pants where jeans and love to wear jeans. I took the time to make sure that my shoes are nice and clean, laces straight and evenly positioned on the tongue of the shoe. I look through the closet to find a shirt, and notice a new shirt that I have never seen before. It was a really nice dress shirt that my aunt had bought with the little extra money that she had at the time. I was so happy to have a new shirt, so I made sure that I picked that one. It was a little blue long sleeve dress shirt and felt so fresh and crisp. I wore my blue jeans and white tennis shoes with the shirt. Some people would think that blue was my favorite color on that day but blue is far from being my favorite color.


As I lay in bed, I start thinking of how big the campus will be and how many other students will be there. WOW, I am a high school student and I get to call myself a Tulare Union Redskin! Living on the southeast side of Tulare was always fun for kids because we all knew that Tulare Union was where we will all end up. Being able to go to the games at the stadium and other events in the stadium and hopefully someday...compete on the field and track at the high school. Yes I was a sports nut at the time and wanted nothing more than to wear the Redskin Red and Gold uniforms. Fear sets in of meeting so many people that are a few years older than me, but I am good with meeting people. I have never been afraid to talk with people or to be in a crowd, so my fear dissipates rather quickly.

Before I know it, the alarm clock rings and I jump from bed with a smile on my face and a great desire to head to school. I quickly shower, get dressed and eat a very delicious breakfast that my aunt cooked for me since it was the first day of school. I ate so much I nearly made myself sick. I head out the door and started walking north down the street until I get to the front of Lincoln Elementary school. I see several kids from the neighborhood and stop to talk with them as though it is a Saturday in the neighborhood. After a few minutes a few of my other friends come walking around the corner and we all just laugh and talk about things from the weekend.

The school bus arrives and we part ways, the younger kids get on the bus, but the rest of us start the journey up to the high school about 6 blocks north. It is a nice bright late summer morning and the air would be nice and fresh if it wasn't for all of the diary farms surrounding the city. PHEW!!! The cows must be in overdrive that morning! Within a block of the school we start to smell the food being cooked in the school's cafeteria and I find myself getting hungry again! Can't wait for lunch!

As I walk the final few yards to the back of the campus, I lock my eyes on the gym and seem amazed at the size of the gym. Even though I have rode my bike by the campus for many years, it all seemed different that day because it was now my gym. With each step closer to the campus I find myself having tunnel vision. I don't hear my friends talking; the world seems to have disappeared. Time slowed down as I looked down and viewed my foot stepping onto the campus for the first time as a student. I have been on the campus a thousand times, but this was the first time in which my name was officially listed as a student of Tulare Union High School. Can you tell that I love this school?

I walk around the campus and I am quickly amazed at the amount of students all over the place. Laughter is all over the place as people look at other people and start to make fun of people. OH NO, I am a freshman and that means the upper classes just might pick on me this week. I learned very quickly from a few of my older friends, being a freshman, I should never go into Senior Court during lunch, unless I had a class in that area.  The Seniors were mostly in Senior Court and liked to pick on Freshman that would go into Senior Court.  But I had one ace in the hole...I had friends that are seniors and they would defend me because they are friends of the family.  Well at least that is the thought that I had in my mind!  Later in the week I found out how much that relationship didn't make a difference to a few jerks!

The end of my first day and I enjoyed every moment of the day.  I don't want to live the campus because I am afraid that it is just a dream.  It might sound weird but I liked each of my new teachers, especially my PE teachers.  I liked everything so much, that I ran home and burst through the front door to tell my aunt everything about my day.  She sat and listened to me as I talked about every aspect of my first day of school.  She would giggle at me because I was bouncing off the wall with joy.

My first year, and there is so much to learn, so much to experience and so much to remember. Some great times and some terrible times...but all will be memorable.

A summer to remember and fear...

It was the summer of 1981 when things took an interesting and troublesome change in my lfe for the first of many changes.  In a few months I would start my 4 years of high school and prepare for the rest of my life. Little did I know that this was also the summer in which my uncle decided to retire from work and move to Tulare with me and my aunt.

For the previous 8 years, my uncle Ted, lived in San Jose with my aunt's father because he was still working in the San Jose area.  Over the 8 years, he would drive to Tulare every few weekends and spend the weekend.  Those were always the weekends that I did not want to be home much, but was always stuck at home.  I had several friends in the neighborhood but I could never spend the night at their houses because my uncle would not allow it.  I would ask and I would always be told no by my friend's parents, because at the time, I did not know that they all owed him in some form or fashion.  Living in that neighborhood was fun as long as I was outside of the house and away from home.

During the weekends when Ted was there, the house was more like a prison and I was only let out after work detail was completed.  The amount of things he would make me do would take hours to complete and to me, was things that I should not be doing.  Not because they were dangerous, but because I was not old enough to properly understood what was to be done.  I would always try my best...but my best was never good enough.

I remember one weekend in which I was told to mow the front and backyards and then trim the hedges in the front yard.  Mowing the grass was not a problem because I was already mowing the lawn for many years to help my aunt.  I hated to see her out there in the hot sun and working so hard to cut the grass.  I grabbed the lawn mower out of the tool shed and put gas in the tank.  I grabbed a garbage can, rake and shovel and took everything to the front yard. 

As I was pulling on the starter for the lawn mower, the string broke on the third try.  I quickly went inside and told my uncle that the string broke and I could not start the mower.  He looked at me like I was stupid and stated, "that string can't break, so stop your f..king lies and get the damn lawn done".  Since he didn't believe me, I showed him the string and he immediately jumped up and slapped me across the face.  I hit the ground and looked back at him with tears in my eyes.  I quickly asked, "what was that for?"  He stated "just to get out of doing work you cut the f..king string, didn't you, you little piece of s..t".  I tried to explain what happened and that only caused me to get hit three more times in the face and back of the head.

He decided to go fix the mower and then got it started.  I was sitting on the porch just watching and trying to stop the tears from running down my cheeks.  I turned to me and told me to get this f..king lawn done and there better not be anymore problems".  Needless to say, I got the lawn done and then completed the back yard as quickly as possible.  When I was done, I had to rack up the grass and put it all in the garbage and put everything away.  The next task was to trim the hedges in which I had never done that before, however I seen him do it, so I tried. 

While trimming the hedges I stopped to get the mail because the postman just put the mail in the mailbox.  As soon as I went to the mailbox, I was stung under my chin by a wasp.  That hurt so bad that I ran into the house to my aunt to see if she could stop it from hurting.  What I did not know at the time was that my aunt had already told my uncle to do something about a small wasp nest that was starting under the mailbox.  He was sitting in the window of the living room watching me get the mail and laughed because I was stung by the wasp.  After my aunt took care of the sting, she told me to go lay down and do the hedges tomorrow. 

The only problem with that was the fact that my uncle did not let me wait.  He waited about 30 minutes for my aunt to leave for the grocery store.  Once she was gone, he came into my room and woke me up and yelled at me to finish the hedge right now or get beat.  I tried to say that my aunt said to wait, and he didn't care.  After getting slapped again in the face, I got up to put on my shoes.  As I was kneeling down to tie my shoes, he is standing behind me and gives me a kick in the butt to make me move faster.  With tears in my eyes, I walk outside, get the tools and start on the hedge again.  At this time, my chin is swollen from the wasp sting and my cheeks are red from his hand print.

My aunt arrived home about 30 minutes after I was done with the hedge.  I was already back in my room laying down, but was able to hear them talk about me.  My aunt asked my uncle if he forced me to finish the hedge and he said no, he said that he finished it and because of that I had to stay in my room for the entire weekend. The only times I was able to come out of my room was for dinner and to go to the bathroom.  I couldn't even go into the kitchen to get some water if I was thirsty.  I would just go into the bathroom near my room and get water from the faucet like a dog getting water from a hose.

On Sunday nights when he left to head back to San Jose, I was always very happy because I knew that I would at least have 12 days in which he would not be there.  When he wasn't there, my aunt and I would work together in the yard, and play games at night while watching TV in the family room.  I would even sit there and help her scrub her feet when she would soak them.  Things were always so wonderful and stress-free when it was just the two of us.  We would laugh and talk and she would show my home to play the piano.  I really enjoyed the days that I would have at home alone with just me and my aunt.

But all of that came to a terrible end in August of 1981 when Ted decided to retire from work and move to Tulare.

As we moved closer and closer to the day when he would finally be there to stay, each day seemed to get darker and darker.  The fun that me and my aunt had around the house was soon coming to an end.  I kept telling myself that things will get better once he is there more and see that I do help out around the house more than he thinks.  The sad thing is...it didn't make a difference.  The only chance I have for some normal safe fun was to be at school.  He moved in for good the weekend before school started and that was the beginning of drama, sadness, violence, anger, tears, pain, lies and terriblle language in my life.

Back then I kept asking myself over and over...what am I doing wrong for him to treat me this way.  I must be a terrible person and I must deserve the violence and abusive language that he directs at me.  Whatever I was doing, I had to change so that I could be happy again, and have those wonderful moments with my aunt.  I wondered if he ever did these things to my aunt, and I decided that I didn't want to know and that I would do everything in my power to ensure that he never hurts her.  If I had to, I would make sure that he takes his anger out on me instead of her, because she is a sweet loving christian woman and only deserves joy and happiness.  I felt the need to protect her from him, so I will take whatever comes.  This continued for 3 straight years, some weeks good, some weeks bad and some days were brutal. 

       "Wounds heal, breaks mend, bruises fade...
         but the pain from distrust and abuse can stain the soul"

My soul is stained, but I won't let it change me into the man that was supposed to be a father figure. The real heartbreak is to know that him and my mother are brother and sister...how can he treat blood this way?  I got my answer to that question when I was an adult visiting my familly in Oklahoma.  There was much more evil inside him than I knew when I was a kid.  But that is another story for another day...

The middle school years...

In preparing to write about my years in junior high school (middle school) I decided to crack open my old yearbooks to see if their were any interesting pictures to use.  I did find one of me in the choir and several pictures of my old friends that will make their way onto Facebook in the very near future.  (Man, I know a few of them are going to hunt me down and put me in a hurt locker for posting their pictures)


Seventh grade at Cherry Avenue Junior High School was the beginning of a very fun period of time of my life away from home.  Now of course going from one small school to a larger school is always a rather unique experience.  To the best of my memory there were 3 schools that fed into Cherry Avenue.  Garden (where I came from), Wilson and Kohn elementary schools.  Now the interesting thing about those 3 schools is that several of the people I went to school with at Lincoln (1st-3rd) were split up and sent to all 3 schools.  But now we would all come back together at Cherry Avenue so it was a little bit of a homecoming to see people I have not seen for 3 years.


During the summer I had to realize that coming from the 6th grade we were the big kids on campus, but now going to the 7th we would be the younger group yet again.  You know what that means, the upper class would play jokes and pranks on us for the first few days since we are new.  The first day of school arrived and I stepped off the school bus and immediately started to look for my friends from Garden, because I knew I would feel a little bit more comfortable around them.  No sooner than I took about 15 steps on the campus, I get hit in the middle of my back really hard.  I swing around with anger in my eyes only to see a friend I have not seen since Lincoln.  For a moment I had to refrain from hitting him back, but after a few angry seconds, I realized that it was one of my old friends and I was happy to see him.  We walked further onto the campus and he was joined by his friends from Kohn and I was joined by a few friends from Garden.  We both did the introductions of our friends and started to compare class schedules.  Several of us had the same classes especially Physical Education.  This is going to be a good year, because I have my new and old friends all around me.


As the weeks went by, each month I looked forward to one major event...the school dances on Friday nights!!!  Once a month we would have a dance for something (holidays or just special events).  I loved to go to the dances because I knew how to dance and was not afraid to get out on the floor.  I had always loved to listen to music all my life.  Back then I would listen to anything that had a good beat or you could "shake what ya momma gave ya".  It was always interesting to see who would show up to the dances, because the ones that wanted to dance woulld be there and those that just wanted to be seen.  There were always several "wall flowers" that would make excuses for not dancing.  That was never me, I couldn't stay still when there is music playing.  There is just something about a good drum beat that moves threw my body.  It starts at the ears and my head just starts moving to the beat...then the shoulders start to move and the beat travels down my spine.  When the beat gets to my hips...they begin to sway, dip, rock etc.  By the time the beat gets so my feet, I am in full motion with movement that just can't be stopped.  Back then I didn't care if people were dancing or not, I would get on the floor and dance, and shortly thereafter a few girl friends would join me and we would have a blast.

Other than the dances, I was just starting to get into sports because I realized that I was a pretty fast runner and good at jumping.  During my 7th grade year I did not join any teams, but really enjoyed all of the sports we played during Physical Education.  That all changed during the 8th grade year, because during the winter time of 1981 I decided to play soccer for the first time.  Of course in the neighborhood that I grew up in, soccer was never played because it just wasn't a sport that kids were interested in at the time.  Even though it was played during the winter months, it was very fun to play.  As you can see in the picture to the left, I really enjoyed the sport since I was doing my "Superman" pose when we took our team picture.  The great thing about playing soccer was the fact that I would already be in shape for the track season that would begin during the spring season.


Let's just say that I became a crazy maniac for Track & Field because it was an absolute pleasure to run and jump all over the city in track meets.  I was able to meet and compete against so many people and started to develop into a real track fan.  I knew then that I was hooked and looked forward to joining the high school track teams.  Although my dreams of running track nearly did not happen because I did not know when track started.


During the first week of track practice, I did not know that it had started.  But thankfully the track coach was also my PE teacher and that week we were doing various events from track & field.  On Thursday that week, we were doing the 100 yard dash and long jump events during class.  I took my turn at doing both and my teacher after each event was rather surprised with my times and distances.  At the end of class he pulled me aside and asked me if I wanted to join the track team because my times and distances were just as good as the people already on the team.  I told him that I could not join because I did not have permission from my aunt and I did not have any track spikes.  He took me into his office and called my aunt and asked permission. After speaking with the teacher, my aunt asked to speak to me and we talked about my interest in the sport and the fact that we did not have the money at the time to buy spikes.  I was disappointed that I could not join because of the spikes, but the coach gave me a major surprise.  He and I walked to the principal's office and he asked for an off campus pass for me because he was going to take me to the sports store and buy me a pair of spikes.  We got the spikes and returned to the school and he gave me a uniform to wear.  I was so happy that I was bouncing off the ceiling.  I thanked the coach and joined the rest of the team after school for the meet at the high school track.


I competed and won each of the events that I competed in and received 1st place ribbons.  That was when I was hooked!!!  You mean I can run and jump and receive ribbons...YES!!!  That was the beginning of what became a major obsession for my school years.  I was not happy unless I was able to place in the top 3 to receive ribbons or medals.


The remainder of the 8th grade school year was a blast because I was getting to the point in my life where everything was finally looking up.  However, that did not last long because things were about to seriously change at home...but that is another story for another day.

The 4th-5th-6th Dimensions...

Who would have thought that school could be a fun place to go to everyday! I was happy as could be to be able to get up each day and go to Garden School each day, because I knew I would see all of the great friends that I gained. Of course we had to go through the boring parts of sitting in class and listening to the teacher talk about things that we needed to learn. But oh as the time went by and we approached recess and lunch period, I would start to think of running all over the playground. The great game of recess was usually tag with a few friends, but they always hated me playing because they could not catch me. Even at a very early age I was a very fast runner and very athletic. Of course a few of my friends would make sure that they were able to tag me because someone would trip me. CHEATERS!!!!!


After a good game of tag on some days, even our teacher would give us some fun games to play on rainy days in the classroom. One of the really fun games was "Heads up 7-up". Now let me see if I can remember how the game was played. Each student would be sitting at their own desk and would have to put their heads down on the desk and cover their eyes. Prior to the game beginning, the teacher would give each of us a number to remember, and that number would determine who had to get up while everyone's head was down and pick someone in the class to be "it". Now you would think it would be easy to remember who was what number, but it wasn't because the teacher gave each of us a random number. The goal was to walk around the class tap someone else and then sit back down. Then the person who was tapped had to guess who tapped them. If the person guessed correctly, then the same person had to do it again. If the tapped person guessed wrong then they were now the person who was "it". There was some skill to this game because you wanted to trick people into thinking that it was someone different. When I was "it" I would quietly get up from my desk, walk to a different side of the room, make some noise and then get to the person I wanted to tag. Although I think it was my giggle that would give me away sometimes because I was having so much fun playing the game.


One day a month, the teacher would schedule for us to obtain the parachute that the school owned for an extremely fun game. The teacher would divide the class in half and the halves would line up around the opened parachute. Each of us would then grab the edge and pull it tight in the circle and place a big rubber ball on the parachute. The goal was to try to bounce the ball around the circle on top of the parachute and try to bounce it off the chute on the opposite side. Can you imagine a bunch of kids holding on to this chute and moving it up in down to bounce the ball all over the place. You would be amazed how difficult it was to get the ball to bounce off of the opposite side. It was such a fun game, but afterward our arms were worn out, and our tummies ached because we were all laughing so much.


One day in the 5th grade a few of the girls that I knew from my neighborhood were playing a game that I never had an interest in called "Hopscotch". I noticed that they were hopping and jumping all over the place and it seemed to be fun. I walked over and started to watch them play and quickly learned the game. It seemed rather simple and looked fun. So one of the girls challenged me to a game, and of course I could not be shown-up by an icky girl, so I accepted the challenge. We started and before I knew it, I was having a blast because I was beating this icky girl!!! I am winning...BOYS ARE BETTER AT EVERYTHING THAN GIRLS. (Open mouth...insert foot). Most of the time, I noticed the girls would stop playing by the time they reach the numbers 4-5, so I figured if I got to 4-5 first I would win. WRONG!!!! The game was going so fast that I got to 4-5 and thought I won, when another girl said that I needed to go to 6 now. Hmm, that is pretty far to jump to...but I am a boy and we are better than girls, so I tried. I gathered my pride, my strength and did my little run to jump to 7. At that time in school we had not learned about GRAVITY, but I got a crash course in gravity that afternoon. I leaped from the 1 and ask I went through the air in slow motion, I knew I could do it. Through the bottom of my vision I could see the numbers below me...2...3...4-5...6...7. I did it, I made it, I made it and I am better than these silly girls. But wait, why is my foot still moving, yet I am getting closer to the ground! OH NO, why am I falling, I can't fall, I....I....I landed right on my butt and bounced a good 5 feet further.


As I try to play it cool and ignore the laughter of the boys around me from falling, I hear laughter now coming from behind me. Why are they laughing? Can't they see that I fell and you should never laugh at a person who falls? As I brush myself off, I notice that it got a little cooler all of sudden to my legs. Did I land in water or something or it is just the cold hands of "embarrassment" grabbing me. Nope it was much worse! In my ability to try to show-off and prove yet again that boys are better than girls at games...I noticed that I had ripped the seat of my pants and my underwear (to all moms, yes they were clean) was showing through my pants. Needless to say, that was the last day that I played hopscotch!


Now in the sixth grade and still being teased about my 5th grade underwear fashion show, I knew I had to do something to make people remember me for something other than my Scooby Doo underwear. It was close to the end of the school year and we are all just a few weeks away from going to Junior High School. I was much older and wiser than I was in the 4th and 5th grade. I decided to try my luck at the schools track meet events. Each grade had the chance to participate in races and jumping events against their own classmates. So one afternoon I decided to get into the 100 yard dash that a couple of my neighborhood friends would compete in. I had never done any sports before this moment so I wasn't sure I could do it, or if I was good enough to do it. When it was our turn to run, we all lined up and waited for the teacher to say go. Little did I know that this exact moment was the beginning of my years of running track and field. I shocked everyone by out running the two boys that were considered to be the fastest at the school. Yes, I finally found something that I really loved to do!


The end of the school year had arrived and the day before the last day of school, our teacher decided to take everyone over to her townhouse complex and have a little graduation pool party. One major problem, I DON"T KNOW HOW TO SWIM. I mostly stayed in the shallow end of the pool and still had a blast. Sodas, chips, hot dogs, hamburgers, sodas, ice cream, sodas and even sodas. (Notice the amount of sodas?!?!) Well, I drank so many sodas and ate so many sweets that I was sick as could be by the time I got home and went to bed. We had a blast, but oh my poor tummy!


School is out, and the summer has arrived....but in a few months another school and it is much bigger, but there is a great treat for me, because I get reunited with other friends from the 1-3 grades.

The beginning of an honored friendship...

After 3 fun filled years of school at Lincoln, me and all my other classmates were divided up and sent to 1 of 3 other schools.  The choices were Garden (North side), Kohn (East side) and Wilson (next to the high school).  I was one of the students that were selected to go to Garden.  This was in the mid 1970's and you would think that a small town in California would not have race concerns, but this was a reverse race situation, because it was my aunt and uncle that had concerns with me going over to the North side of the city.  Garden was in an area of the city that was considered to be middle to upper middle class; families that had very good paying jobs and very nice urban homes.  No daily violence within the area, just peaceful streets with kids playing in a safe neighborhood.  It was quite different than my neighborhood where there were fights, drugs, drunks, punks and everything else that you would find in the ghetto.

My aunt had concerns because there were not that many African-Americans that lived in that area of the city.  She was concerned that I would be picked on because of my race.  So of course, being told all of that before starting school, I was a nervous wreck on the first day of school.  I was afraid to get off the bus!  On the ride over to the school I was not sure what to expect.  We made the final turn to get to the school and to my delight; it was just a normal day and a normal school with kids having fun.  The concerns of the older generation were not the concern of the kids that were having fun at the school.  So I quickly started to feel better and looked forward to meeting new people.  As I make my way to the playground I am greatly shocked and sad to see that there is no Eagle's Nest, no Monkey Bars, just some lame slides, swings and merry-go-round.  WHAT AM I GOING TO DO IF I CAN'T SHOW MY ABILITY TO DOMINATE THE EAGLE'S NEST?  They call this a playground, there is nothing here to cause blisters, and give you that great feeling of dropping a few feet to the ground.  What in the world would we play with, how would we have any fun at all?  Where is the danger and excitement of metal playground equipment other than the slide that was there?  But wait, there is hope yet....two bars one high and one low that I noticed kids sitting on and locking their legs at the ankle and then doing a full circle rotation around the bar.  Using the same bars, I noticed some girls hanging upside down by their knees and doing a move called the Cherry Drop. WOW, there is some excitement and adventure.

But wait, there is something not right about this, it is only the girls that are doing these things on these two bars.  What!!!!  No guys are brave enough?  NEVER!!!!  I watched the girls carefully and learned what to do. So I politely asked if I could try and the girls giggled and said yes.  Excellent!!!  I jumped up on the bar and made my way to the middle, and knew in my head that I was about to show these girls that this is one guy who will not be shown up by an icky girl!  It's my big chance to show everyone that guys are always better than girls at doing athletic things on and off the playground.  With absolute confidence, I slide out to the middle of the bar and try to remember how the girls would do the circle.  Got it, I just have to...umm...I have to...OH NO...OUCH!!!!!!!  Let's just say that the bar had to go somewhere it was not meant to be on guys, and I very quickly understood why NONE of the guys were even near that thing.  I quickly got down and walked away rather gingerly and never looked back on those bars ever again.  That was a terrible lesson to learn in the first week of school.

I got to know many of the kids and really liked my new school, because everyone except one person was always nice.  That one bad apple was a guy named John and he loved to pick on people that were smaller than he was.  One day I noticed that he was picking on one of the guys from my class and I liked this guy because he was cool and funny.  So I walked over to John and just told him to leave this kid alone.  John did not stop and I noticed this other kid was trying to do the right thing and walk away, but John would not leave him alone.  So one more time, I told John to leave him alone.  John stopped and then turned around and pushed me rather hard which caused me to trip and fall to the ground.  Well that was enough for me, so I jumped up and decked him in the face and tackled him to the ground and hit him a few times.  We rolled around on the ground for a while fighting until the teachers got there and took both of us to the office.  Well, we were both sent home for the day, and boy did I get in trouble when I got home.  I could not sit down for a while after the spanking I received for fighting.

The following week, we were back at school and to my surprise the kid that I stopped John from picking on, came up to me before class and said thank you.  That made me feel good and he asked me to play with him and his friends during recess.  I made a new friend and he is white!!!  This new friend was rather skinny and a little shorter than the rest of us, so I thought it was cool to have my first white friend.  Over the next few weeks, we became good friends and he asked me to come to his birthday party.  WOW, I have never been to a birthday party, but wait; I don't have money to get him a gift, so I had to tell him that I couldn't because I couldn't afford to get him anything.  He laughed at me and quickly said, "I don't want any gifts, I just want my friends to be there at my party".  That response made me feel great.  I couldn't wait to get home to tell my aunt about the invite.

That night at home, I told my aunt about the invite and she had a lot of questions that I had to get answers to before she would say yes.  So I told her that I have the phone number of the kid's parents and asked my aunt to call and talk with them.  She called, spoke for about 5 minutes and then told me that I would be able to go!  YES, my first birthday party!!!

On the day of the party, my aunt took me over to my friend's house and then his mom put all of us in a station wagon and we headed to Visalia to go to a place called Roller Town.  It was the coolest thing ever, with video games, food, music, lights and my new friend.  Only one major problem...I didn't know how to roller skate at all, but my friend taught me how to skate and I started to have fun with everyone again. We had so much fun that when we were all done; my friend asked his mother if I could spend the night.  WOW, I have never spent the night over at a friend's house before.  His mother called my aunt and she agreed and I was so happy to spend more time with my new best friend.  We played with nearly every toy he had and just had a great time....until he tried to teach me how to play Croquet.

I was trying my best to understand how to play the game and we were having fun, but that all came to a crashing halt when I swung the mallet a little too hard and I hit my friend in the mouth and cut his lip.  He was screaming and crying and ran inside.  I was so sad that I hurt my friend that I stood in the front yard crying because I was afraid of getting yelled at by his mother.  All of a sudden his father arrived home from work and approached me in the yard and asked if something was wrong.  I was so afraid to tell this tall man that I just hurt his son.  But I gathered up my courage and tearfully told him what happened.  I was saying sorry so much and crying that his dad felt bad.  He went inside to see how his son was doing and talk to his wife.  I stayed on the porch because I was too afraid to go inside.  When I no longer could hear my friend crying, I knocked on the door and asked if his mom could call my aunt to come pick me up so that I could go home.  No sooner then I said that, my friend comes running into the living room and begs his mother not to call my aunt because he still wanted me to spend the night.  I was greatly surprised.  Just then his father said, "well Michael, you did something that his cousins have been wanting to do for a long time… hit him in the mouth".  They all laughed, but I still had tears in my eyes, so my friend came over and said that he was ok and that he was not mad at all.  I was so happy that I gave him a big hug and promised him that I would never hurt him again and that I would always protect him from anyone and everyone that would try to hurt him.

Who knew that on that day, I would have the honor and pleasure to know one of the greatest guys ever.  His name is Philip and even now, 33 years later, Philip still knows that I will do everything in my power to protect him.  Even though we don't get to talk as much as I would like, he knows that I love him like he was my own brother.  In my eyes, Philip can do no wrong and if anyone should ever try to say something bad or negative about him, they will have me to deal with.

Philip still lives in Tulare with his beautiful wife and two cute as can be kids.  Every time I go to Tulare I try to get in touch with him, but our schedules don't match up right for me to see my dear friend.  I miss him greatly, and just wish I would have moved back to Tulare like he told me to do many years ago.

I do keep tabs on him as much as I can and try to find out what he is up to lately.  I can honestly say, that Philip is one of the kindest people you would ever have the pleasure of knowing.  I believe that I am a better person because I know and can call him my friend.

Phillip, I don't know if you will ever read this, I want you to know that I love you, I have always loved you and I will always love you my dear friend.  Like I said before, you are like a brother to me and even though I am a few days older than you, I still look up to you!  I am so proud of you!!!

The really early years of education...

When I think back to my years at Lincoln Elementary School in Tulare, I am very thankful that the school districts ended "Capital Punishment" because our principal at the time was more than willing to not "spare the rod...".  She had a nice little belt hanging on the wall in her office.  When my cousins told me about the belt they did not leave out any details about the manner in which the principal would pop the "bad" kids that came to her office.  It was bad enough that I would get the belt at home, let alone get it at school as well.  GIVE A KID A BREAK...can't be nice all of the time, what do you expect from a kid.  We had to do things that would get us in trouble.  Yes contrary to popular opinion, I was not a perfect angel all of the time.  There was that 10% troublemaker deep down inside of me that had to come out. Let's talk about a few of those RARE occasions when i was less than a perfect angel.

Little Girls - Trust or Not to Trust...That is the question...

It was always fun to do finger painting, learning to cut little figures out of craft paper and learning the art of teasing those icky girls.  Ok, let's just skip to the icky girls part because that was where the real fun was, until I met Missy.  Every girl that had pigtails was my first target each week.  When the teacher was not watching, I would pull on their hair just to hear "ow, stop it or I am going to tell".  Of course at that moment my eyebrows would form the horns of a little devil.  During crafting time, I would find one of the girls that was not paying attention and put glue on the outside of the glue bottle.  As we all know, at that age, little girls do not like having their hands covered in anything sticky or messy.  I would even go so far to put glue on their chair so that they would sit in it.  Yes I was a little brat as often as I could, provided that I didn't get caught in the act.  I was the king of the classroom, the boys liked the jokes and the girls would always stay away.  Nobody could stand in my way of taking over the class...until SHE came to my class.  SHE is Missy and Missy was very cute and had a smile that would just make us boys just stare at her.  After a few days of watching me play jokes on all of the other victims, I mean girls...she befriend me and took my defenses completely down.  She would hang around me at recess and we would laugh and tell jokes to each other.  Maybe girls are not icky at all; maybe they are cool and fun to be with. WRONG!!!!!  Missy lured me into her web with kindness, fun and laughter.  While we were sitting next to each other in class waiting for the teacher to give us our watercolor paints, things were going great.  Missy being the kind girl that she was, she went to get the little cup of water that we would use to clean paint off of the brushes.  She walked to the sink, turned it on and filled up the plastic cup.  As she walked back to the desk, I noticed how full it was and told her that it was too full.  She wasn't' paying attention at the moment so I figured she didn't hear me.  As she gets to the desk, I tell her again and she looks me in the eye and poured the entire cup of water into my lap.  Then says very loudly, "Eww, Mike peed on himself!".  As I stand up to tell the teacher, all of the girls in class start laughing and pointing at me.  Even the boys started to laugh and point at me.  The tears started to fall as I was taken to the office so that the school could call my Aunt to bring me a change of clothes.  LESSON LEARNED...what goes around, comes around, and at times can be very wet.

The Sun, the fun and the blisters...

The greatest playground equipment that I do not see around today is the Eagle's Nest, Monkey Bars and Jungle Gym.  Most of the time when I drive by a school I do not see these iron beasts of fun.  The Eagle's Nest was the best because it was a half dome object that was roughly 10 feet from the ground at the center and the entire structure was built using triangles.  I tried to find a picture of one, but I cannot find one.  I even drove back to Tulare to take a picture of the one at Lincoln, but it is no longer there. I noticed that most schools have completely replaced these monsters of the playground.  I say monsters because only the brave would dare to climb to the top of the Eagle's Nest and sit there as though they were King of the Hill!  Yes, I am that person; I would claim the top for myself and dare anyone to remove me from my small seat of power.  If anyone tried, the battle was on and the last person hanging would be the winner.  Yes I said the last person hanging, because in order for you to fight for the right to be at the top, you and your competition had to be at the top, and hang from the top as you used your legs to grab a person and pull them down.  There would be a 6-8 foot drop for the loser, and a quick acrobatic move for the winner to claim the top.  Now that I think about it, maybe they removed the Nest because it was teaching kids to fight and to dominate each other.

Now that I think about it, several games we played back in the 70s are long gone from the schools.  The best game of the all and might make a few of you have nightmares.....DODGE BALL!!!!  Oh man, that was my all time favorite game to play because I was fast and nearly hard to hit with the ball.  Many of the times that we would play the game, I was one of the first 2 people picked to be on a team.  The other team would hate the fact that I was quick and had no trouble using teammates as shields to get our team the victory.  Although there were some moments of stinging pain from the ball slapping me in the face or back; I did not cry, even when the ball was hitting me in a more southern area.  I would always remember the lucky few that had the ability to take me out of the game, because they would become my targets for sweet revenge.  I always had a plan to get the people I wanted to nail with the ball.  My friends knew the right time to get the ball to me to enact my revenge (evil laughter inserted here).

I was only able to play with these items and certain games while I attended Lincoln (1-3) because for the 4th grade, I was bused to a school across town.  You read correctly, I was bused to the "rich" side of town and was nervous as could be and disappointed at their playground.  But hey, that is another story for another day because that was the beginning of a new adventure attending Garden School.

The building of a man...

For this segment I am going to break from the timeline and jump around to different points in my life.  I must apologize for the length of this portion, because it is rather long, because I have so many dear moments/memories with each person.  I want to pay homage to those Ladies that helped me along the way...

It has been said, "Behind every good man, there is a great woman", and I know this to be absolutely true for my life.  This is my testimony to 6 ladies that have been a driving force in my life.  For those ladies that I do not mention, please understand that I do care and love you all, but these 6 are at the top because each has used the "tools of life" to help me build a foundation, frame the skeleton, protect from the elements, fill the structure with love, live in the structure and lend support when the structure needed repair/maintenance.

Erma Rowland - My dear and beloved mother.  She is the starting point for my life. A male cannot become a man without the love of a mother.  That love is the security blanket of life and nothing on this earth can take away the love a mother can for her child.  My mother passed away on August 4, 1986 when I was only 18.  Since I lived in California with my aunt and uncle, I did not have the opportunity to live with my mother for the entire 18 years.  But that does not mean I did not have my "blanket".  As I was growing up, I would write to my mother about the different accomplishments that I would achieve while I was going through school.  Every few weeks, we would be on the phone and talk for a long time.  Every two years we would make the journey from California to Oklahoma and spend at least 2 weeks there with the family.  As soon as I would get into town I would go over to my mother's house and stay with my brothers and sisters.  The one thing that I miss the most since my mother's passing is the hugs that she would give.  My mom would wrap her arms around me and just hold me.  Even now as I think back to the last hug I received, I feel warmth that can never be duplicated. (One moment please, I have tears in my eyes but not of sadness, but of happiness)  Mom, I love you and I miss you, but I know you created a "blanket" for me and I still use the blanket.  The last time I seen and spoke with my mother was at the hospital in Oklahoma City, where she was losing her battle with breast cancer.  Before my mother passed away, she told my older brothers and sisters that she was only going to hold on until I arrived from California.  Even with the Angel of Death so near to her, she refused to give up her spirit until she was able to see and talk with all of her children.  I arrived in Oklahoma on August 2 and went directly to the hospital and spent time with mom.  Mom did not want her boys to cry in front of her, because she wanted us to be strong for our sisters. I tried with all my might to hold back the tears, but it was too hard, and I allowed one tear to flow down my cheek.  I have cried many times in my life, but after the passing of my mother, I cried for a long time, and I still want to cry even now.

Lois Lewis - My dear and beloved aunt.  My aunt for all intense purposes became my second mother.  She raised me after I moved with her and my uncle to California.  My aunt was a God fearing woman that was a loving soul to everyone that had the pleasure of meeting her and knowing her. It is still hard on me to talk about my aunt because her passing was the next painful moment in my life that I thought I would not make it through.  It has been 4 years now (April 27, 2006) when she passed away from her battle with cancer as well.  Since my mother was my blanket, my aunt was my comforter.  She was that extra protection from the cold winds of life that seemed to find its way into my life at times.  When I would have my moments of weakness and doubt, I only had to pick up the phone and call my aunt.  Many times when I would call, she would answer "I knew you were going to call, because I felt something was wrong".  Just hearing those words each time, told me that we had a bond that was unspoken. My aunt raised me in a church and religious environment that enriched my soul and helped me know right from wrong.  Her teachings and lessons are still with me today, even though at times I walk my own path.  But I know when I need her, she is still there as an angle over my shoulder.  The weekend before she passed away, I drove to Tulare with my sons, so that they could see their "Granny".  The nurse brought in some beef broth for her to have, and without hesitation I grabbed a spoon and the broth and began cooling it off and feeding it to her.  It was my turn to take care of her, and I did it with pride. Without my aunt knowing, the rest of the family was planning a surprise birthday party and the Community Center in Tulare for her birthday on May 11.  Behind the scenes my cousin Yvonne, her mother and I were getting money together and calling all of my aunt's friends to join us for the celebration. She had never had a birthday party put together for her and we knew this had to be the event of the year for everyone invited and the celebration of a lifetime for her. Even while she lay in the hospital we all continued to do more and more for her surprise party.  Everyone knew that she would make it out of the hospital because everyone was praying for her.  But 14 days from her birthday, our Lord and Savior decided that he wanted her to come home and be with him in Heaven.  I was happy that she was no longer in pain and that she was at peace with the Lord.  I got the phone call late at night while I was working on a project for work.  All I could do is scream from the pain that was now piercing my heart because I was alone.  My "blanket" and "comforter" have left this mortal life and began their eternal life.

(Yes, I have tears in my eyes again at this moment and my heart aches, but I will continue.)

Sheila Rowland - My dear and beloved sister.  My sister Sheila was the split image/soul of our beloved mother.  After mom passed away she was the one that picked up the pieces and became the person to go to when you needed to talk about the problems of life.  Sheila was a religious lady that loved life and everyone.  She worked at a day care center and was loved by so many children that she helped take care of from day to day.  She was full of life and always had words of wisdom and kindness to give to those that needed her.  Over the years as I was growing up, she and I was talk on the phone for hours at a time.  We would tell jokes to each other and just laugh until it hurt to laugh.  One day I get a phone call from Oklahoma and it was my older sister Gaby.  She informed me that Sheila was in the hospital for surgery because she had developed breast cancer.  Oh God, not again, please don't put our family through this again, not now, the pain of losing our mother is still there after 12 years.  The Lord listened to our prayers and wishes and gave Sheila back to us.  She made a complete recovery from her battle with cancer.  Oh thank you Lord!  During a business trip to Fort Worth, I decided to stay for the weekend and drive up to Oklahoma to see my family.  My cousin drove to Fort Worth, picked me up at the hotel and we headed to Oklahoma.  As soon as we arrived, my cousin took me directly to see my sister Sheila at work.  She knew I was coming into town that day, but figured that she would see me after work.  I walked into the day care center, and asked for Sheila.  They pointed me in the right direction.  I opened the door to the area where the toddlers played and there she was, playing with the kids.  I walked up behind her and said, "Is there room for me to play also?".  She quick replied, "of course there is always room to play with the kids".  She turned around to see me and just let out a scream of joy.  The other people she worked with came running because they thought something was wrong.  She grabbed me and gave me a hug that was so strong I had trouble breathing for a few moments.  I had to say, "Sheila I know you are happy to see me but let me breath girl!".  For the next 30 minutes she introduced me to all of the kids and her co-workers as "this is my baby brother 'Mikey' from California".  (Word of advice, ONLY MY SISTERS CAN GET AWAY WITH CALLING ME MIKEY). The rest of my visit was wonderful; me and Sheila hung out at our cousin Mila's house and just talked up a storm for the two days that I was there.  A few years later, I received a phone call from Sheila in which she explained that the breast cancer is back and more aggressive than before.  We talked for a while and talked of the past.  Deep down inside I knew that I only had a little while left with my sister.  Then one day our oldest sister called me before work and gave me the news that Sheila was in the hospital.  I called the hospital and talked with her for a little while until she needed to rest.  One of the last things we talked about was me getting to Oklahoma to be with her while she was alive.  Sheila knew how hard it was for me to get back there at the time, so she just told me that I didn't need to be there, because I was always with her in her heart and in her mind.  Two days later, she passed away.  My oldest sister called and told me and I made arrangements to get there for her funeral.  As a testimony to her kindness, there were 3 young men that she use to watch in day care that sang the Boyz II Men song "It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday".  As soon as they started to sing the first chorus of the song, me and my two older brothers started to cry.  We tried to do as mom has always told us to be strong for our sisters, but this time, our sisters were strong for their brothers.

So those are the 3 ladies that were the most important female figures in my life as I was growing up.  And I can truly say that I am blessed to have known and been loved by all 3.  I know each portion ended with the tragic death of each, taken by cancer.  That is why I beg everyone that ever reads this blog, to donate and/or be very supportive of loved ones that suffer from cancer.

Michelle Rowland - My wife, friend and mother of my children.  There are so many things that can be said about Michelle: friend, provider, supportive, tough, strong and the most important thing...a mother.  The relationship that I have with Michelle is like no other.  When I am weak, she is strong; when I am confused, she is wise (even a wise ass too); when I am troubled, she is a listener; when her sheep are in danger, she is the Sheppard and the wolf to those that show intent on hurting her flock.  There are things that have happened in the 20 plus years that we have known each other that make us who we are today.  If I ever had to go through hell to battle anything, Michelle is the warrior that I would want by my side.  She was there when I lost my sister, and knew that she needed to step up as my shoulder.  She was there when I lost my aunt, and knew that she needed to be my rock during my heart ache.  Michelle has become my ultimate protector and I know she will do what it takes to ensure that I am OK.  Even to the point that if someone really does me wrong; they would have to deal with her first.  The saying, "Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn", just mess with me or her sons in the wrong way and you will know the fury that is Michelle.  It is amazing, for someone only 5 foot and some change tall, there is a strength to her that is unmatched in my life. When life tries to knock her back, she takes the hit and comes out swinging and saying "oh hell no, is that all you got, I'm a kick your @$$".  Not to mention, in those moments where I forget my place (or "training" as you woman say) she is ready to put me back in my place as well and make me go through refresher training as needed.  (Although at times I act like I forgot the "training"; I am really just testing the waters like any guy would do.)

Susan Maxwell - My dear friend. The first thing I must say is that it is an honor and privilege to know Susan. When you look up the name Susan, it is described as "lily"; "to be joyful, bright or cheerful".  To me, that definition for Susan Maxwell is only touching the tip of the iceberg.  Susan has a wisdom concerning the path of life that you can only get from your mother, yet Susan gives her wisdom to all that seek her out and have a thirst for knowledge.  I can't count how many times over the years that I have known Susan that she has been there with a well of refreshing and soothing knowledge.  We have all heard of the fabled "Spring of Life" that is to give eternal life; to me Susan is the genuine "Spring of Knowledge and Hope" because she so much advice and guidance to offer.  No matter how dark the skies may be, or how hopeless you may feel; after speaking with Susan, you gain a sense of peace and knowledge that things will be alright in time.  There have been a few times while I was at work and things just went absolutely wrong, I would call and speak with Susan.  Like the Rock of Gibraltar, Susan will be there to help you make it through the storm.  You can anchor yourself with the knowledge and kindness that comes from Susan.  I have never been a jealous person, but I am jealous of Susan's family members and children because they have known and loved Susan for many years.  To me, the world would be a much better place if every single person had a friend like Susan.  I am not a catholic person, but to me, Susan, my mother, my aunt and my sister are all Saints to me.  Thank you Susan for coming into my life, because I am a better person because I know and love you my dear friend.

Marianne Fisher - My dear friend. Have you ever met a kindred spirit?  Well I have, and her name is Marianne Fisher. Let me take you back several years to describe the beginning of our relationship.  I was a bratty little Management Analyst for the Fresno Compliance Services and had way too much "piss and vinegar" in me at the time.  I believed that whatever my Director wanted, I was going to give it to her and dare anyone to stand in the way of me getting what my Director wanted.  I was given the task to speak on the Director's behalf on various conference calls that Marianne was the HQ Analyst over.  Each time Marianne would speak of something that Fresno did not like, I was a pit bull on the issue and would just make things hard.  I know there was a time when Marianne would rather slap/kick/punch me for things I would do, and I can honestly say...I would deserve it.  After a few years of this going on, I had the unique opportunity to apply for a position to work with Susan and Marianne on a HQ Staff.  I applied and was selected for the job.  But I knew behind the scenes I had to bury the hatchet between Marianne and my evil twin (hehehe).  So within the first few days of being in the new position I wrote a letter to Marianne to explain my actions.  I wanted to make sure that she knew it was only business and that I looked forward to learning from her on the things that I needed to do as HQ Analyst.  Long story short....Marianne and I have become kindred spirits because we both have a side to us that many people provoke in coming out.  When we talk, we feel comfortable enough to let the more "colorful" adjectives come out to ensure we give an accurate evaluation of the subject or person.  When I explain Marianne to my other friends I always say "Marianne is my sister from another mother and father".  That is how I feel about the relationship that we have developed over the years.  She knows that she can call me and we can let the angry side of us go to each other.  And just like my real sisters, I love Marianne just as much.

Well that is the end of my homage to the 6 ladies that have had an amazing impact on my life.  In future stories they will be mentioned again, but I wanted to take this moment in time to speak directly about them.  As always ladies, I love you and you will forever be in my heart, mind and part of my soul.  Thank you for the honor of allowing me to be a part of your life and you in my life.

A "moving" experience...

The beginning of my education started in San Jose, California in Kindergarten. Ah the memory of the cookies, milk and other snacks that we would have for lunch each day. After a few weeks I was really starting to like being in California because I was able to play with kids and just have fun without a care in the world. But that was short lived because my aunt was going through some emotional troubles living in the big city. A decision had to be made and my aunt and uncle decided that we would move to a little town in which they owned a home already. My aunt tried to describe the little town to me, but I had no clue how to view the town in my mind. So after living in San Jose for a few months, we packed up everything and made the 5 hour journey to Central California.

Let me paint the picture for you....imagine the early 1970's when there wasn't smog and air pollution. We jumped in the moving truck and drove southeast from San Jose. Going through some of the largest mountains I have ever seen at that time in my life. It was late fall so the mountains around the central valley were golden brown with the wild mountain grass that grows throughout the mountains. To my young eyes, I was amazed to see such large shapes covered in rocks, trees and the golden grass. Until this point in my life, I only seen the red clay dirt of Oklahoma city and the typical dirt of San Jose. But to know that the ground around was full of other colors was just amazing to view.

It's rather early in the morning as we head through Pacheco Pass. As we head down the freeway, twisting and turning around these massive mountains, I view a large body of water and became very afraid because the road was going right next to this large body of water. It was a dam, and I did not know what it was for because I never seen one in Oklahoma. My aunt held my hand and explained the purpose and the need of a dam. After a few more minutes we were past the dam and heading down the final stretch of the mountain pass. The sun was coming up over the eastern horizon and small streams of sunlight were shining through the clouds into the valley. As far as the eye could see there was flat land with different color crops all over the place. The only thing at that time I could think of to resemble the view was an old patch quilt. Green, yellow, white, brown patches everywhere and I had no idea what they were. Again I asked my aunt what I was looking at, and she explained that the central valley has some of the largest farms for the entire state. I couldn't understand what a farm was because I was a "city boy" so I knew all of the food came from a store, not from the dirt...eww I don't want to eat anything anymore since it came from the dirt!

We continue to drive for a few more hours, but I was so tired from looking all over, I curled up in a ball and laid my head down on my aunt's lap and fell asleep. When I awake, we are parked in an area where I see other houses and kids outside playing because it is Saturday morning. I stretch and wake up and quickly jump out of the moving truck to see 3 older kids running down the street yelling "Granny". I figured these kids were crazy, because I would never run down the street yelling that, I would yell "You can't catch me", "You’re it" or "Ready or not here I come". They got closer and closer and would not stop running. Finally they ran right past me and to my aunt. She hugged and kissed them because they were her grandchildren. So again, I would have to meet new people and have a few more people that are relatives.

Growing up in Tulare was a rather interesting time. A nice small town with one major thing that you must experience each week. Take a guess??!!!?? Surrounding the city are several dairies with a lot of cows!!! On a rainy day, things would be good until the wind started to blow from any direction. Even now when I drive through Tulare on Highway 99, you must go through Tulare and be reminded of the cows all over the place. Other than that aromatic experience Tulare was a wonderful place to grow up.

So that was the beginning of my days in Tulare and the great educational system of the city of Tulare.

My future blogs are not going to go grade by grade, because that would just be too much for me to type, so I am going to hit the highlights.

California or Bust...

If you had to write down in one hour the amount of life changing events that have taken place, would you be able to count them on one hand or need a calculator? I have had several events take place over the last 42 years and each has been for the better and a few for the worse. The first event happened in the summer of 1971 when I met my mother's oldest brother and his wife. My Uncle Ted and Aunt Lois were from California and at that time lived in San Jose (Northern California). They decided to visit the family and my uncle to see his dad (my grandfather). During their visit, we all went over to grandpa's house and did the normal family reunion type things. My aunt and uncle decided that they were going to be visiting for about 2 weeks and then head back home.

During this period of time we still lived in "The Village" which is an area of Oklahoma City. Some people would call it the ghetto or the projects, but we called it home.

I remember there was a day that I seen my mother and her brother talking very loudly with each other away from the family. It made me feel upset to see this guy making my mom mad, so I started to dislike him. That same night at dinner, my aunt Lois asked if I knew where California was. Being the age of 4, I thought it was another city around the city we lived in. She asked if I would like to go to California with her and my uncle. At the same time, my two older brothers knew that my uncle had mentioned to mom that he would like to talk all 3 boys with him to California, just to give my mom a break for a while. My brothers did not want to go at all, but they kept telling me that I should go with them because it would be a lot of fun.

So after a few more days, they packed up my clothes and the few toys that I had and I jumped in the car with my aunt and uncle. Being so young, I really did not have a concept of the amount of time that went by before we made it to their house in San Jose. It took 3 days to get to California, and even then I was amazed to see all of the differences in the landscapes that we drove through. I slept a lot, but I did see some sights I never knew were possible, at the time.

We arrived in San Jose, California on a Sunday afternoon. The house was in a very nice area of the city. The street ran north and south, and the house on the east side of the street. The driveway was on the right side of the property and went all the way into the backyard and then curved to the left. There was a large tree in the backyard with a dog pen around it. In the pen was a rather large German Sheppard named Sport. He was a retired police dog that my uncle received from a friend that was with the police department. To the right of the door pen was the garage. The garage was not attached to the house like modern houses. The house was a single story home with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, living room and kitchen. On the east wall of the living room there was a really nice brick fireplace.

I was told that I was going to meet a lot of my aunt's family member in the next few days. My aunt had a large family because she was 1 of 13 kids in her family. Each of her brothers/sisters had their own kids and grandkids as well. Her father and mother lived across town and were elderly. As I think back to her parents, they were the most gentle, kind, loving and supportive people I have ever known.

After a few days had gone by and I met all of the family in California, I asked my aunt, what time we would be going home. She wasn't sure what I was talking about, so she said that we are home, and that this was my new home. I didn't understand at the time, so i asked if my mom and brothers/sisters were coming here too. She said that they were not coming and that we were not going back to Oklahoma. I was so afraid and started crying a lot. My uncle came into my room and told me that I need to stop all of the crying and just realize that I would not be going home because this is my new home and that is that.

After a few weeks, I started to school in San Jose. Only 5 years old, short, skinny and afraid. I came home from school on the first day with a note pinned to my shirt that seemed to be just as big as I was at the time. One day down, several years to go. This lonely "Okie" going to school with kids that didn't talk the same as I did at the time. I was so afraid to be there without my family from Oklahoma. Who would protect me, hold me when I was afraid, patch me up when I got hurt...it was a scary time for me. But one special lady stepped up and made a major difference in my life.

As I look back in time, I know that was the initial life changing event for me. You know how people say that if they had the chance to go back in time and change one event in their life, they would change something major. Well, I have so many events that have led me to where I am now, that I would be afraid to change any event. For example, if I would have changed the event of me coming to California, I would not know any of the people I currently know. I would not have the two sons that I have right now, or even know the dearest friends that I know and love today. (Phillip, Jimmy, Scott, Rudy, Marianne, Susan, Tameka, Juanita, Harriet) So far this first life event, I would have to keep, because I never want to lose these people.

Where do I begin...

I guess the best place to start, is right at the beginning. I was born in Oklahoma City, OK on October 5, 1967. I was the fifth child of seven and the baby boy of the family. I have two older brothers - Tony and Charles, two older sisters - Gaby and Sheila and two younger sisters - Audrey and Roxanne. Let's jump forward about 3 years now, to the point in time that I can remember things from back then.

I clearly remember the two story apartment within an area of Oklahoma City called The Village. It was an older neighborhood, and better known as the ghetto to those that did not live in that area. (Closing my eyes to picture the apartment...) As you faced the apartment from outside, the front door was on the right side. Upon entering there was a tall staircase that led to the second floor about 8 feet from the door. To the left of the door was the living room and to the left of that the kitchen. If you went up the stairs, our mother's room was at the far left, then the linen closet, then the bathroom. On the right side were my sisters' bedroom and then my brothers' bedroom.

I remember my brothers would always get me in trouble with mom by telling me to do something while mom was at work. When she would get home, everyone would tell on me, and I would get a spanking. But that all changed when I would tell mom that Tony/Charles told me to do it. Since mom couldn't tell who was telling the truth and who was lying, she decided that everyone would get spanked or in trouble when any of us did something wrong. Needless to say, things changed very quickly around there!

All of my family lived in that area so we were always around our cousins, aunts and uncles. Our grandfather lived on the other side of the city but we would go visit papa every other Sunday. It was always great to be at papa's house because he loved having his grandchildren around. We would run all over the place and just be kids, until one us got too loud and upset the older generation. Oh the food that we would have for supper...MMMMMM...ham, greens, cornbread, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes, cabbage, brisket, green beans, black eyed peas, turnip greens, collard greens, mustard greens, spinach greens, sweet potatoes, yams, biscuits with sausage gravy....(you get the hint). Now of course, all of the above was served at different times, not all in the same supper time. But those were some of my favorites to eat. (I think I just made myself hungry)

When the family wanted to get together, it was always at grandpas’ or at my aunt's house. They both had large backyards that would easily fit the whole family with space to spare. I remember my uncles sitting at a card table playing "bones" (Dominoes), my aunts in the house cooking or sitting outside talking about us kids and other people (typical gossip session). All of us kids would occupy our time with little games or playing tag until the sun started to go down. That is when the real fun started during the summer time...FIREFLIES!!!! We would run all over the backyard to find and capture fireflies to put into jars. We would do this until each kid had at least one in a jar. The older kids would be the ones that poked holes in the lids so that the flies would not die. We would just sit and watch the flies and count how many times each would flash their light.

It is sad to think that most kids in this time would never want to do anything that did not involve something electronic. I still believe that our generation grew up at the right time, because we know what it was like before and during the age of electronics. There are times that I miss using my imagination to create a fun game or activity that would entertain me for hours.