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Monday, October 13, 2008

I get my first concept of a higher power...who knew he could see in the dark?

So somehow I entered the third grade. A Catholic third grade. Without transcripts from the second grade. Don't ask because I don't know. Maybe it was divine intervention.

I was given a uniform; dark green slacks, white polo shirt and dark green cardigan sweater. And ugly assed black shoes. But I was wearing clean clothes and eating three meals a day, and being disciplined and hugged without provocation. Strange.

We had a fat kid from Cuba in our class, always going on about Castro. This was very soon after the whole Bay of Pigs incident and a few of them had managed to dog paddle to freedom.

I tried to cut his throat with the brass edge of a ruler in the bathroom.

I just wanted him to shut up. Seems I brought some issues to the table. He was sweaty and pale and quivering when I hissed in his ear if he ever told anybody I'd burn down his house and then he'd have to go back to Cuba.

I was the quiet kid in the back row. The one with long lashes, that liked to read and drew his classmates for milk money. Remember me? No...I imagine not. I even had my first girlfriend, if I remember right, she broke up with me. Boy did that establish a pattern.

At any rate, we had mass before we had class and I learned to pray, at least one way and I watched, and listened and tried to stay off the radar of the nuns, waiting for the day my Dad would take me to live with him.

I later would regret that, as he didn't often tell me he loved me, but was a WWII vet so I imagined he was beating me in Morse code.

And I learned what a real family was like-five girls and only two of us boys-but my cousins accepted me readily and to this day they are my siblings and I would throw myself in front of a truck for any of them.

This is not to say we did not fight. We fought. And screamed and punched each other silly. And no one in the neighborhood dared fuck with any of us. Because we would descend on the poor slobs en masse, and no one wanted that.

And God was always present. He was there in school, he was in the chapel, he was in our house, and I thought he lived in the giant family bible open in the front vestibule of the house, the one we passed coming and going each and every day.

I was also told God could see in the dark and from what I understood he was easily pissed off and quite judgemental...much like my last ex-wife. As I had hit one part of puberty really early the whole seeing in the dark thing really threw me off.

I treated myself like an amusement park ride after dark, so to say I was a conflicted young lad would be an understatement.

But before I got off on this childhood rant I was moving in with my brother; two bachelors out to set the world on fire. Okay, he was a sunbeam for Jesus and I was Satan's cabana boy-but we gave it a shot.

I resume my narrative...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

See, you can comment.

My new disclaimer...yeah I know.

Okay, the old disclaimer was tired. The ideas were outdated and keeping me stuck in a place I don't want to be now for something more refreshing.

I have recently changed my views regarding women. Seems I had some issues with the fairer sex due to past pain and self- centered fear. (Yes...duh applies.)

I'm done with that.

Being in recovery has helped me change my entire life, perceptions and attitudes. I cannot change my history but I can change my today and my future.

I recently realized that the women I know in recovery are some of the strongest, bravest, most gentle and kind teachers I have ever had. You exemplify integrity and spiritual growth, and I hope you know who you are.

Some may know of my past marital and relationship history and been a participant in them as well. It's past and that's where it the past.

I own my part in those failures but claim no more responsibility in any misery you may be experiencing. I am sorry, but it's time to get off the cross. We need the wood.

Thank you all...