You don’t know me. You may think you do, but you don’t know me.

My mother and father divorced when I was a year old. My mother moved to Idaho Falls when I was a baby and I never met my dad face to face. He called me once on my fifth birthday after a few beers. He never called me again. I tracked him down in my early twenties and talked to him a couple of times on the phone. I never was able to meet him. He died of a massive coronary when I was 33 years old.

You don’t know me.

I had pneumonia when I was three. Bad enough, they stuffed me in an oxygen tent for 3 dayss

You don’t know me.

My mother was diagnosed with epilepsy when I was four. She had a grand mal seizure while she was reading me a bedtime story. It was a terrifying thing for a four year old to experience. She had another major seizure episode when I was 10. It messed me up so bad, that I would bother her 4 or five times a night just to make sure she had remembered to take her medicine. I did this for over two years.

You don’t know me.

I spent my childhood in one of the toughest neighborhoods in town. There were two murders (one right up stairs from where we lived), car thefts, drugs, knife fights, psychotic landlords. It was everything one would want in a friendly neighborhood.

You don’t know me.

My mom and I used to spend half of our Saturdays down at the local laundromat washing our clothes. We had no washing machine or dryer. We didn’t have one until I was 13. 13 years of weekly going back and forth to the laudromat.

You don’t know me.

to be continued….

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