My story from 20,000 feet

This is a view from 20,000 feet. It only shows how things escalated and is not to document everything that went on. But at least it will give cause and effect. I hope to show how my parents were the catalyst to the way my life evolved in my early years. I tried my best to shorten it as best as possible so nobody will fall asleep. I'm truly sorry if it is too long.

My secret life started when me and my parents (I'm an only child) moved to a new neighborhood when I was 9. My best friend (same age as me) lived across the street from me. We would go down to his basement when his parents weren't home and drink some wine that his father makes, play games and build models. We were inseparable and very mischievous, and we did everything together. We would even piss together in the toilet battling with our streams. Eventually we would sniff glue out of the same bag. We were very tight together and would endure more of less the same fate together. If he hurt then I hurt. We even made ourselves blood brothers.

At some point my friends older sister (6 years older) finds us in a highly joyous state in the basement. Saying that we cannot be found like this by her parents we were taken to her room. We were then undressed and thrown into a cold shower that she said was needed for our recovery. The entire recovery period was photographed by her and not while we just in the shower.

Scenes similar to this would repeat themselves for many years.

We drank wine like the grown ups, sniffed glue like some other kids my age and we were smoking weed like my friend's sister and her friends did. This was the 60's thing happening to us. We knew my friend's sister and her girlfriend were health nuts and they would give us some of their vitamins when we all hung out together. We later found out that the vitamins was not vitamin c but Quaaludes and other stuff. All these happenings and get togethers were photographed. We were even in magazines that were sold openly in those days on the newsstands in the city (sick). We didn't know it but his sister was getting into a very profitable business. I have learned over the past year that she eventually became a professional photographer. I don't know if she's retired or even alive, I really don't care. I know that pics of me and my friend have turned up on the net. How they got there I don't know but I do know who took them.

By the time I was 13 my mother was spending her winters (8-10 months of the year – long winter) in Florida and my father would fly down for the weekend straight from work on Thursdays. So I didn't see my mother most of the year which was fine with me since she always gave me a hard time. To her I would never amount to anything anyways so why should I bother with her. My father was OK but never said anything. And I wouldn't see him from Wednesday night until he came home after work Monday evening. I was supplied with a stack of TV dinners and frozen home cooked meals in the freezer so I wouldn't starve me and my father wouldn't starve. The home cooked meals were to be eaten when my father was home but when he left I was to eat the TV dinners only. I had their phone number in case I needed but I shouldn't needlessly bother the neighbors only in case of extreme emergency. I would find other ways not to starve. I would find other ways to replace them. And most of all I didn't need their damn phone number.

I had become very active in organized sports at the age of 11, specifically judo. I was gifted with being very athletic, flexible with a great sense of balance and strength. After the first 6 month contract was up my parents would not pay for anymore classes since as my mother put it I would not be able to make a living from it and I wasn't good at it anyways, blah, blah, blah. Problem was that others had seen my potential. I had very good results at competitions and won a bunch of medals, etc. I wanted very much to continue with judo at all costs. My best friend's sister's girlfriend worked in the school where I practiced (that's how I got there) and arranged for me to clean the school in exchange for payment of my classes.

I was 12 by this time and the lady (18 by this time) who was my best friend's sister's girlfriend introduced me to one of the judo instructors from the city school. (I think to this day I was being set up.) He arranged with the permission of my parents that he would pick me up after school Thursday to go practice in the city school which was better outfitted and had more teachers I could learn from. I would stay by him overnight and he would drop me off at school on the way to work on Friday. He worked not far from my high school and lived in the city he said he was a lawyer (I still don't know how much or if any of that was true). We had gotten pretty close over the next few weeks. We would always stop on the way to his apartment for my favorite - cheeseburgers, fries and a vanilla coke. We had seen each other in the showers etc. He smoked and so did I – weed. This was the 60's after all. Since he had a small studio apartment we slept together and yes things started happening – but I was used to that and I wanted to learn and practice in the city and all I had to do was clean the place and stay by him. I had no problem with this. If I can sleep with my best friend's sister, her girlfriend and their boyfriends I can sleep with him. Besides we really hit it off together.

Then one evening some months later after class, showering, eating, smoking and watching TV (and probably some vitamins) he said he would have to go run to the office and take care of an emergency. He would drop me off for the night at a friend's apartment but he would be back to take me to school. I don't think that since I started staying by him that I ever got to school on Friday before 11am. I was pretty well zonked but I got dressed (sort of) and was taken to the 'friend's' apartment. This was the start of a new chapter in my life. I didn't know it at the time but I was officially being pimped. This happened a few more times over the next few months where I thought these episodes were really emergencies. By the time I was 13 I would end up in the Village with some other kids and that would be the weekends for me. This was my life from now on for the next 4-1/2 years. I was officially a money maker, I was set up, cornered and my fate sealed. Fridays I never got to school, never cleaned the schools again, I would show up to judo on Thursday's 90% of the time and on Saturdays and Sundays I never got to gymnastics very often anymore. But he bought me a 10 speed bike to replace my 24 inch balloon tire bike and other stuff so he was very nice to me. My parents never even thought of replacing my bike that was stolen.

It wasn't rocket science that I realized that I was now officially being pimped. I was warned, but in a very kind way, that if anyone found out about what “I” had been doing I could be taken away from my family and put into juvenile detention. I wouldn't mind being taken away from my parents but I had to have my friends and judo. My parents never looked into what I was doing. As long as I was in school and an upper class preparatory school I was OK. I didn't exist in their world. The only worth I had was in being their ticket to being an upper middle class American family. They needed only one kid and one picture in their wallets, I was an ornament to be brought out and shown. Eventually being involved in the city scene my grades plummeted but I eventually graduated from high school probably because my parents were paying customers. Finally I got into college (someone paid someone???) while I was rejected by every school I had applied to. I was like my mother had said – worthless. I spent 3 semesters trying to stay in college while I lived in the Village scene and did drugs and other stuff. I couldn't pass damn english 101.

I must add that all was not so nice with the city scene. At some point when I was 14-1/2 but before my 15th birthday I tried twice to commit suicide. I don't remember exactly why but maybe it was battle fatigue. Too much drugs and too much work. Once with pills that I glommed from my mother's pharmaceutical medicine chest. (The Stone's song 'Mother's Little Helper' best describes her.) I took a big handful of different shapes and colors but I still woke up the next day very sick but still here. I tried it once more some months later but this time I tied a hunting knife to my wrist and went to sleep. I woke up when I got cut. Blood was everywhere but I was, like before, still here. I still have the scar on my arm where I cut myself as a reminder. I would later get yelled at by my mother for getting blood on the sheets and on the mattress when she finally came home. She even threatened to put a plastic sheet down “like they use for kids that wet their beds”. This made me feel great but I'm glad there were no guns in the house at that point.

I saw that at the end of my second semester that I was not going any further because of the Village scene, drugs and other stuff took it's toll so I applied to get into the USAF in order to avoid the draft. I finally flunked out with the summer semester of english, got reclassified as 1-A and was thankfully and finally taken by the USAF a month later – coincident or from high above??? I was the only one I knew that was happy to get a chance to go to war. I graduated from the USAF after only 1 year and 10 months out of my 4 year stint because I had freaked out when a friend of mine finally died from a booby trap that caught him in the chest in nam. It had taken him 5 months to die. I was put on some ready reserve status in case the US was invaded. I finally got my honorable discharge papers in '75, 6-1/2 years since I enlisted. I was 24 by then. My parents had moved by that time I got released from active duty and I never went back to the Village or my previous haunts and never saw anyone from my pre-USAF days – never ever.

I was free and I started a new life that seemed foreign to me. It felt awkward not sleeping with your friend or some no-name. The supply of drugs ended at the same time the city scene did. I did a lot of drugs in the USAF but that was a different life altogether. But I was never free of the effects those days had on me. I only regret never going back to see the only best friend I ever had again. I never went back to that neighborhood again. The closest I've been is Google maps.

I am now happily married for 35 years and along with a wonderful wife I was able to raise a family of 6 kids. The first few years I really didn't know how to live with a 'real' woman, called a wife. A few years went by and no kids and my wife's family was getting nervous. They had my wife checked out and they wanted me to be checked also but finally my wife was expecting. I would go on to marry 4 kids and I still have 2 at home that are over 21. I have 10 grandchildren and all my kids have more than one child. They are the real american family. All the kids are great kids, all abuse free, and everyone not knowing what went on in those 10 years some 40-50 years ago. I hope to fix that here. I hope to fix my newly acquired use of medicinal alcohol also here – something I thought I left in the city some 40 years ago.

Over the years I have battled recurrent dreams of tricks I turned, being stopped by police or hurt by a customer. I had two hernias repaired where I was terrified that I would say something under anesthesia. I have never kissed any of my kids or even hugged them when they got old enough to walk but we get along great. They see me a non affectionate showing 'good' father (I hope). Enough is enough, my children are too old but I want to be able to kiss, hug, roll around on the floor and loose a fight with my grandchildren. It was very hard living and keeping my secret for 35 years of marriage I cannot go through that with my grandchildren all over again. I want to enjoy them just as I see others enjoying their kids. I want to be able to kiss a kid and not have a picture taken to be sold. I want to do that because I love them all. I guess I want their love more than anything else. Something I never had from my parents. They are not my ticket to the American dream they are what I truly love and worked for, for 35 years. I want to treasure what's due me. They are my dream come true.

Thank you for getting here smile

Peace, Rainbows, Love, Healing & Hope