The move back to Midland proved to be a phase for rebuilding our family structure and securing a safe haven in most respects. The absence of my father became a consuming burden that seemed to overshadow everything I did. The lack of having a male role model left many questions of uncertainty. Instinctively, the lack of sources meant that my path in life needed to be built on influences since a permanent connection no longer existed with my father. Almost every succession I learned to experience came through surrogate others or my own persistence. Learning how to ride a bike, playing catch or dribbling a basketball became uninspiring since the interests lacked appeal with the people I knew who already knew how to do them. It became a time when my vital needs of interaction and instruction faltered to meet with the importance of others. Living in a time when children were seen and not heard really added to the frustration.
The dissolve of my parents marriage became a reality when my mom started dating. She secured a position working in the maternity ward at the local hospital. It offered us more of a feeling of independence as we started acquiring the necessities we lived without for so long. She bought a blue green Plymouth Fury from my grandparents which gave us more freedom to explore places outside the city. We moved into a two unit three and a half story home located between the downtown business district and the school I attended. The upper level of the house offered more living space than the small house we previously rented. Tenants usually occupied the main floor, but the foyer, basement and garage were shared. It seemed like we were really moving up in the world. Before we knew it, we had a car, a telephone and our first black and white television.
As we settled into our new comforts, it didn't take long for prospective suitors to come knocking on the door. The first two big winners were door to door salesmen. One tried to sweep my mom off her feet by selling Fuller brushes, while another tried to suck her in with a Kirby vacuum cleaner. Needless to say, we added a Kirby to our growing arsenal of house gadgets, but my mom remained single. She kept company with a friend she worked with in the maternity ward, who coincidentally had children attending the same school that my brother and I did. Through one of their discussions, my mom's friend suggested meeting a single guy she knew with three boys. She gave it a chance, and soon we were doing things like a surreal family together.
The apparent influences my mom's boyfriend had with his sons remained questionable to my liking. Perhaps I kept a subconscious prejudice because of my real father and never relinquished any chance to see how this guy was going to measure up. One thing without question in my viewpoint remained the fact that his influences held no validity for me to grow on. My mom took it upon herself to engage in functions that involved his extended family. On one occasion we met for a cookout and planned to go fishing in a stream. His two sons, my brother and I took our poles to the rivers edge and tried our luck. After about an hour of futile attempts, his oldest son reeled in a small trout about three inches long. I felt a strike on my line and reeled in a three pound bass a few seconds later. Thrilled with my catch, I received a rally of praise from everyone I showed it off to. Then my mom's boyfriend told me I had to throw it back. I couldn't fathom what I just heard come out of his mouth. I took the same chances and finally have something to show for an effort I took upon myself without the help of anyone else, and now I have to throw it back? It never occurred to me at the time that I outperformed his own kid, and he didn't like the positive attention I received. I argued with him insistently to be allowed to keep what I caught. Then without warning, he physically pummeled me into a state of semi consciousness. My level of sheer outrage masked most of the infliction, but some effects altered the feeling of my condition. I appeared normal to everyone around me, but felt sick. He apologized to my mom for his actions, yet never said a word to me. We went back to his apartment where I passed out. I awoke shortly before midnight still laying on the floor in a dark empty living room. Drenched in a cold sweat and feeling nauseous, I went into the bathroom and prepared to vomit.
I began to dream of being surrounded in a haze of gray. Bars of light passed horizontally every so often in a seemingly endless concession. An odd dream I thought, since no people, places or color ever came into view. It felt as though my vision turned into white noise on a television screen with the occasional white bar cascading down. I no longer felt sick, but this dream started to get boring. I averted my focus to the overwhelming feeling of comfort I felt and chose to drift to sleep. I woke up again later, not knowing how much time passed, feeling sick again. My body felt like a used punching bag, but something new replaced this odd dream. I now donned a white gown as I laid in a strange bed with white covers. In addition to feeling sick, I noticed my jaw and tongue were sore and my throat was dry. I decided to explore the room, still in awe of how realistic this dream was. Before I knew it, a nurse walked in the room and asked if I felt okay. She explained that I had a granwal seizure a few hours earlier, and that I would probably be in the hospital for awhile.
The dissolve of my parents marriage became a reality when my mom started dating. She secured a position working in the maternity ward at the local hospital. It offered us more of a feeling of independence as we started acquiring the necessities we lived without for so long. She bought a blue green Plymouth Fury from my grandparents which gave us more freedom to explore places outside the city. We moved into a two unit three and a half story home located between the downtown business district and the school I attended. The upper level of the house offered more living space than the small house we previously rented. Tenants usually occupied the main floor, but the foyer, basement and garage were shared. It seemed like we were really moving up in the world. Before we knew it, we had a car, a telephone and our first black and white television.
As we settled into our new comforts, it didn't take long for prospective suitors to come knocking on the door. The first two big winners were door to door salesmen. One tried to sweep my mom off her feet by selling Fuller brushes, while another tried to suck her in with a Kirby vacuum cleaner. Needless to say, we added a Kirby to our growing arsenal of house gadgets, but my mom remained single. She kept company with a friend she worked with in the maternity ward, who coincidentally had children attending the same school that my brother and I did. Through one of their discussions, my mom's friend suggested meeting a single guy she knew with three boys. She gave it a chance, and soon we were doing things like a surreal family together.
The apparent influences my mom's boyfriend had with his sons remained questionable to my liking. Perhaps I kept a subconscious prejudice because of my real father and never relinquished any chance to see how this guy was going to measure up. One thing without question in my viewpoint remained the fact that his influences held no validity for me to grow on. My mom took it upon herself to engage in functions that involved his extended family. On one occasion we met for a cookout and planned to go fishing in a stream. His two sons, my brother and I took our poles to the rivers edge and tried our luck. After about an hour of futile attempts, his oldest son reeled in a small trout about three inches long. I felt a strike on my line and reeled in a three pound bass a few seconds later. Thrilled with my catch, I received a rally of praise from everyone I showed it off to. Then my mom's boyfriend told me I had to throw it back. I couldn't fathom what I just heard come out of his mouth. I took the same chances and finally have something to show for an effort I took upon myself without the help of anyone else, and now I have to throw it back? It never occurred to me at the time that I outperformed his own kid, and he didn't like the positive attention I received. I argued with him insistently to be allowed to keep what I caught. Then without warning, he physically pummeled me into a state of semi consciousness. My level of sheer outrage masked most of the infliction, but some effects altered the feeling of my condition. I appeared normal to everyone around me, but felt sick. He apologized to my mom for his actions, yet never said a word to me. We went back to his apartment where I passed out. I awoke shortly before midnight still laying on the floor in a dark empty living room. Drenched in a cold sweat and feeling nauseous, I went into the bathroom and prepared to vomit.
I began to dream of being surrounded in a haze of gray. Bars of light passed horizontally every so often in a seemingly endless concession. An odd dream I thought, since no people, places or color ever came into view. It felt as though my vision turned into white noise on a television screen with the occasional white bar cascading down. I no longer felt sick, but this dream started to get boring. I averted my focus to the overwhelming feeling of comfort I felt and chose to drift to sleep. I woke up again later, not knowing how much time passed, feeling sick again. My body felt like a used punching bag, but something new replaced this odd dream. I now donned a white gown as I laid in a strange bed with white covers. In addition to feeling sick, I noticed my jaw and tongue were sore and my throat was dry. I decided to explore the room, still in awe of how realistic this dream was. Before I knew it, a nurse walked in the room and asked if I felt okay. She explained that I had a granwal seizure a few hours earlier, and that I would probably be in the hospital for awhile.
