So? I will have a conversation here and see what comes of it. . .
I guess I should start at the beginning. . .
Birth to 4 months-- born in the cold of Denver, Colorado at a hospital that has a name of which I have no clue. I'm told my father drove through a blinding blizzard to be there for my birth.
4 months to 4 years-- Decatur, Ga . . . My earliest memories include hearing my dad's squad car siren and jumping from the toilet (underwear around my ankles) and rushing out to see it. I remember my grandmother always in the kitchen with me and giving me things to do at the kitchen table while she did housework or cleaned and took breaks to teach me. I remember my mother coming from work and joining her in the kitchen every night. I remember reading books upon books and loving the stories. I remember an alphabet song that went
"A is for the apple and apple is its name (x3) A is for the Apple.
B is for the buzz bee that buzzes all day long (x3) B is for the Buzz bee"
I have never located this song since my early childhood and never encountered it again (I just spent 20 minutes looking online too!). It had to have been an original from the monastery my aunt used to take me to and buy me educational books and feed the ducks.
I remember my first memory of TV was of the show "FAME" and I would get up on our coffee table and sing and dance my heart out every time the opening song would come on. My mother never discouraged me until much later when I thought it would be nice to make a career out of performing.
4 years - 9 years-- We moved to rural Conyers (back in the 80s when it was mostly rural) and I spent my free time playing in the woods and the barns around our house. Later, I realized they weren't true barns as much as they were shacks erected to house car projects, a small marijuana garden, and some dog fights (all of which my parents fiercely protected me against seeing or experiencing at such a young age). I experience my first kiss, first cigarette, first backyard birthday party and first brother during this time. I found solace from the nagging of the world inside the huge leaves that created a mini cave inside a huge magnolia tree. I would climb to the top and balance on the branches and read all day when I wasn't getting into trouble with the neighbor girl. School was fun and I remember being selected by the music teacher to represent my class in singing the Christmas rendition of "Silent Night" with full sign language. I have never forgotten the feeling I got being on stage and have wanted to be there ever since. Fast forward 10 years and I ran into my 1st grade teacher who happen to recognize me. I asked her if she remember what I was like and she responded "of course!" I expected her to tell me how smart I was at such a young age. She said "You were SO creative. . . always making something or drawing something." Of course when I was 6, I'm not sure I even knew what it meant to be creative. I just knew I had to bring home good grades. I would say that these were the "golden years" of my childhood. I got into plenty of trouble-- but I lived a pretty drama free existence and felt completely loved by my family. My parents, on the other hand, started going through some crazy stuff which at the time didn't seem to phase me too much-- but that's their story to tell.
9 years to 13 years-- We moved to Tucson, Arizona and lived in the city. Instead of hiding in trees, I started hiding in drainage tunnels that channeled the flash floods through the city (against my parents strongest warnings). I found it difficult to fit in at school and looked to academics and sports to keep me occupied. I saw how all of the music people were treated and although I wanted to be in the music program, I felt to insecure. I'm pretty sure that my speech impediment therapy coincided with the music portions of the week anyway. Yes, I was that kid with the huge plastic framed glasses, the soccer shorts that were from 3 seasons ago that were quite a bit too small and K Mart brand polos. I was the least fashionable, the least popular, and one of the least liked kids in school. This irritated me to no end and I decided I would make better grades than anyone else to prove that I had some worth. My best friends at the time were the other marginalized kids (mostly black and latino girls). During this time, I had my first sexual experiences with girls and formed my first major negative thoughts of self. My father had me join Boy Scouts to learn good character and to develop friendships. I learned there about pecking order, pornography, and. . . well ask me for the other excruciating details. Home life wasn't much better. Let's just say by the time I was 13 I was about as messed up as a 13 year old could be. I had my first experience with depression and first thoughts of suicide. My one "light" in all of the darkness I encountered during those years was I started talking to God. It's funny even as I just re-read this period, I don't want anyone to know the depth of my experience during this time. There are about 8 significant stories of shame, anger, violence, sex, pain, secrets, and rejection to tell during this period and I hope to tell them all at some point.
By the time, I reached 7th grade, I started to level a bit and joined the track team and the 7th grade choir. I excelled in both and in all of my academics. I auditioned for the 8th grade traveling choir and was accepted which was the first time I felt proud of myself in a long long time. But on the last day of 7th grade 2 minutes before we let out for the summer I got called to the office and got a phone call from my dad telling me that we were moving back to Georgia. I RAN to try to get phone numbers and addresses, but it was too late. I barely made the bus and left a portion of my heart in the city of Tucson at Booth-Fickett Math Science Magnet School. I have never been good at goodbyes ever since.
. . . . . . .
This is a good stopping place. More later. Thanks Josh F. for inspiring me to write my histories.
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