In a city just east of Boston a child was born. It’s the 1980’s the economy is bad and my life would reflect upon the times. The series of events that would follow proved to be arduous and made me stronger today. Times were tough and at moments I wondered if I would survive.
I was raised in a three -decker in the heart of the city. My mother turned a blind eye, my father was the root of all evil. We were as dysfunctional as possible, and quite poor. My parents were young teens when I was born. They had many shortcomimgs but we’ll get to that later. My house was an oddity. My family lived on the first floor, my grandfather the second, and grandmother the third.
One Saturday as part of my routine I went to visit my grandfather upstairs. I was 5 years old at the time and loved his company. After all, he gave me money to buy penny candy. We began talking when he asked what’s your father up to? Me not knowing any better said “putting white stuff in his nose”. My father had quite the habit I would find out later in life. I can recall lines of cocaine on the table all the time. My grandfather told me to “stay put” and I could tell something was wrong by the look on his face. I sat and played with his dogs waiting for him to return. Given my young attention span as time passed I thought nothing more of it.
My grandfather returned and told me to go outside and play. He handed me a dollar and off I went. I approached the door of my house after playing in the yard. As I reached for the handle of the screen door I was violently snatched by my hand! My father in what seemed to be an instant ripped me into the house, dragged me to my room, and slapped my ass so hard, so many times, I urinated on myself. In what seemed like an eternal beating he never spoke a word. This resonated with me for years to come. I had no idea what I had done to make him so angry.
This was my first memory as a child and would not be my last!