Maybe this will answer some questions

It feels rather odd that I'm writing this for my birthday, but it seems like the perfect time to relive the past.

 

My parents met the beginning of November 1969 and were married on Mom's 18th birthday approximately two weeks later - November 28th; Dad was to be deployed to Vietnam within the next few weeks and didn't know if or when he would be back.  They were finally able to have their honeymoon in Hawaii in February 1971 . . . I was born nine months later, on a very rainy December 9th (probably why I love the rain so much).

 

The time spent together physically during their marriage was . . . chaotic at best.  Dad had his girlfriends and Mom had her temper (another thing passed to me by the carrot top).  Rumor has it, one night after coming home from his latest girlfriend's place, Mom threw a knife at Dad and missed hitting his crotch by an inch.  Her only comment?  "Damn, I missed!"  I'm not sure what was the last straw resulting in their separation, but in May 1972, Dad took me to his parents home in Oklahoma and Mom didn't get me back until early 1973 with the assistance of one of my uncles and the Saddle Tramps (he was a member).

 

I remember waking in my crib in my grandparents bedroom due to a loud noise; there was shouting as people moved through the house.  Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open and my grandparents were yelling at the intruders; I remember hearing crying, but I'm not sure if it was my grandmother or my cousin (she was in the crib with me).  Someone grabbed me and ran out of the house.

 

Growing up, I was told the basics from that night's events, but never any details.  I knew my grandparents had both been beaten in the process and I knew my mom and her family had done everything they could within the law to get me back (the military wasn't even willing to help), but to no avail; that was the reason such extreme measures were taken.  When I was 17, I told my grandmother (Dad's mom) what happened; she looked like she would be sick.  How could I possibly remember that night?  I was only two!  I spent 15 years thinking this was a bad dream before discovering it was a memory.

 

A few years after being reunited, Mom was talking to a member of Dad's family and described me as a blue-eyed blond with long, curly hair and hearing impaired.  A few weeks later, the little girl who lived next door to my grandparents (Mom's parents) was kidnapped; she matched that description exactly.  Mom felt guilty and helped the police the best she could and the little girl was found safe.  I never knew the details, but the girl and her family moved shortly after.

 

Thanks to these events, I've never been close to my dad or his family and I am now trying to change that . . . of course, I'm not all that close to Mom's family either.  I guess the best description for us is "emotionally nomadic"; we're a family of loners.  I want better than that for my own kids.

 

Our pasts are responsible for who we have become and, sometimes, things happen that you have absolutely no control over; it's your choice as to how you let these experiences shape you.