By keimosobie
I wish I could tell you I started college at around age thirty, because I wanted to better myself. No, I needed the money. You see, I got fired from my job as a Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN) in a nursing home. It was a pretty difficult job, with forty four patients and three certified nurses aides (CNA), to supervise. The patients were all taking lots of medication that I had to give them. I was a slave to the med cart, but I loved those elderly people like they were my own family. A few years later, after I was dismissed, they had a nursing shortage and they couldn't find anyone to work there. They had to hire two nurses to do the same job I did, by myself; just to keep the nurses working there. It was a miracle I lasted for almost five years. Even now, with two LPN's, they are still overworked. Anyway, I'm sure you're curious why I got fired.
You see, the director of nursing had a nineteen year old son named Lewis, who used to work on my unit. Most of the staff on the evening shift were young and single. We all liked to go out after work to parties and hang out. I don't know why, but there is something about taking care of sick and dying people. It makes you want to celebrate the short life that you have. I used to like to smoke pot, and I unknowingly turned some of my younger co-workers on to it. They had told me they had smoked it before, so I figured as long as they were doing it already, what was the harm?
I found out later that Lewis had lied to me; he had never tried it before, but he liked it and he wanted more. Anyone who has ever smoked pot knows that if you buy weed for someone it entitles you to a nice pinch of the bag you buy for the other person. He asked me to buy for him and I was more than happy to oblige. I was not thinking that it was probably not a good idea to buy pot for the director of nurse's son.
Well you can guess what happened. She found the weed and Lewis told her, "one of your nurses bought this weed for me." Well you can probably guess the rest. She found out who and I was fired soon after. Actually I held on, barely; for a couple of years, but my wife got pregnant and I made the mistake of announcing it at work. Do you know what the supervisor actually said to me? "There is no way we are paying for another one of your babies."
Shortly afterwards one of the patients needed Oxygen and I gave it to her without calling the Dr., or writing a note about it. They fired me for it.
I must tell you. That was one of the most stressful jobs I ever had. When I walked out of that place, it felt like the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders. I don't think I realized, at the time; the weight I was carrying around, until it was lifted. The pain of them getting sick and dying was a weight I carried till the day they set me free. I didn't carry it because I wanted to believe me. I carried it because I didn't want to make the same mistake twice. For example, you hear a patient coughing a little and you are very busy so you ignore it. Two days later they have full blown pneumonia and they die. You remember that you heard the patient cough and you didn't act quick enough. Well there are many other caregivers on many different shifts that could have acted as well but didn't, but you don't let yourself off the hook for it. You carry the guilt and you promise yourself never to make that mistake again. There are many things you carry and you don't even realize you are. I suppose I owe Lewis a debt of gratitude, for getting me out of there and back into school.
I was off to the unemployment line. I was sure I didn't want to be a nurse anymore, but I'm good at picking myself up and dusting myself off. The unemployment center said I could collect unemployment without having to look for a new job, on the one condition that I went back to college. I also had the Army college fund to collect. Since I had one kid and another on the way, I decided to go back to school and be a stay at home dad to raise the kids while my wife worked.
My first class was EG11, or English 101, or just first year college English.
My English teacher's name was Mrs. Stein, who was an older hardened woman. She was actually a lawyer and just did the teaching bit at night for extra cash. She was easily 75 years old and she was a no nonsense type of woman. She gave us an assignment that would open up doors that had been locked to me since childhood, doors that may have just as well stayed locked. Deep dark secrets were about to be unfolded before my eyes. I never knew writing could unlock things bubbling in the furthest recesses of my mind. The assignment started out simple enough. Since the teacher was a lawyer, I assumed she liked arguments because she had us write persuasive essays.
"Just make a statement, it can be real or imagined and then give me three supportive statements that prove the original statement is correct", she said.
Mrs. Stein then added, "I'm not looking for literary content. I just want to correct your spelling, grammar and punctuation.
Seemed easy enough, or so I thought. Anyone whose ever edited my writing knows I needed a lot of help in this area, so my goal was simple. I would write something so compelling it would suck her in. Then hopefully she wouldn't notice the numerous spelling, punctuation and grammar errors, giving me an easy A.
I found out quickly that this would be no easy task. You see, the woman who sat next to me was a thirty year old college student, returning to school like I was. We exchanged and read each other's first essays. Her name was Cathy and her paper was about how her two children burned to death in a house fire and it wasn't her fault.
There were more than a few tears shed by this young woman and by me. It seems, in the dead of winter, in the middle of the night, a gas pipe to her home cracked and caught fire. I think it had something to do with the men making reparations to her home. Well, she made it out of the house, but her two children did not. Cathy described how her neighbor couldn't get twenty feet from the house; it was too hot. Cathy described how she desperately tried to get back to the house to save her children but couldn't.
I remember the stone faced teacher silently making corrections on her paper like she was reading the morning paper. This woman was going to be tough to crack. I thought if I wrote a captivating persuasive essay that would suck her in so completely, she would forget to stop and correct my paper. So, that is what I had attempted to do with my essay.
I gave Cathy my paper and she read it.
"Wow, you have a gift for writing", she said.
"I made the story up", I said. I was not ready to admit to anyone including myself that the story was in fact true.
Poor unsuspecting Mrs. Stein set upon my paper. It worked, she didn't make one correction. She finished reading and gave me a horrified look, she looked white as a ghost. Then she tried to shake it off.
Mrs. Stein got up from her seat and said," Let's start today's lesson, shall we?" and she got up and went to the chalk board and I swear I saw her knees buckle. She placed the chalk upon the board and just stood there for a few seconds trying to collect herself.
I don't have the original essay anymore, but this is how the story went.
| Author Notes | Chapter 2 is next. My Nightmare. Its allready completed just click the link to it below. |
By keimosobie
The story began on a cool Autumn day. Not a typical day for me as on this day I actually had friends to play with. All kids from the neighborhood came to the wooded lot next to my house to play.
There was Michael, a year younger than I at eight, and his sister, Barbara, who was around my sister's age, six. Although their back yard was attached to mine, we weren't close. Then there was Adam, my closest friend, plus three or four more kids playing that day from around the neighborhood. We were all having a good time playing hide and seek.
I never had a lot of friends growing up. I guess I was fundamentally flawed. I don't know if it was the fact that my mother was only fifteen when she had me and that she raised me for three years by herself with the money she got from the government.
No, not welfare, but life insurance from the U.S. Marines. You see while my mother was five months pregnant with me, Dad was killed in Vietnam. I was born soon after and my mother cried on my shoulder. I was her little teddy bear to comfort her through the cold and lonely nights.
My mother poured her pain and sadness into me, and I soaked it all up like a sponge. Then at the tender age of three, the life insurance money ran out and Mom met a man who didn't want kids. I was sent to a foster home and stored away like in the book "Flowers in the Attic."
Now fatherless and motherless, I found myself in a foster home where I was abused physically and mentally daily. Only thing I can say about my foster father is he was afflicted with a demonstrative sickness........
I got out of jail there two years later and went to another foster home.
My new mother had just lost an eight year old girl whom she had been caring for the last five years. She had been hurt badly by this. I think it was a car accident or something. She was older and had no love left to give.
I was lonely and friendless there. Then came the opportunity to be adopted and I went to another home at age seven. Yes I had been bounced around a great deal and I was emotionally scarred as well. At this point I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by life. I wasn't capable of giving much and my parents were not the understanding type.
That pretty much gets me to where we are now. We were playing in the wooded lot next to my home. Adam had discovered that he could hide himself underground. With a little help from a friend you could dig a hole and bury yourself and breathe through these hollow wooden reed type things that grew nearby.
At such a young age you don't realize how dangerous such things could be. I helped him dig the hole and talked to Adam. I asked him why he wanted to bury himself he said he liked it under there. I said he shouldn't do it. Something was telling me this wasn't a good idea. I told him I didn't have any friends because of the life that I had and he promised to be my friend my very best friend.
His last words to me were, "Just don't forget me."
"Don't worry, I won't", I said.
Soon after I covered the tracts by jumping up and down on top of the dirt packing it down so it looked like the rest of the dirt on the beaten path.
I was picked to be it and soon forgot all about Adam and his hiding place.
Our game of hide and go seek was combined with tag so you had to find them and then catch them. I was pretty slow and I couldn't catch anybody so I was perpetually it.
I don't know how much time had passed when Adam's mom showed up looking for her son.
I can still remember the fear in her eyes as she asked me, "Adam was supposed to come home for lunch an hour ago. Do you know where he is?"
I thought about it for a second. How could I tell this panic stricken woman that I buried her son then forgot all about him and then try to explain he was safely breathing through a hollow wooden tube. I quickly devised a plan.
"No I haven't seen him", I said.
But she didn't believe me.
"Was he here?" she asked.
"Yes", I said.
"Where were you playing?", she asked.
"Over there by the fence", I said.
"Take me to where you were playing."
I did as she asked.
"What were you guys doing?"
"Digging in the dirt", I said
As she stood over the shallow hiding place I wondered if she could possibly guess that I had buried him where she stood....
She did not.
My plan was simple if not very cowardly. I would dig him up after she left and make sure he was all right. Then let him go home to his mom.
I watched her walk away and it appeared as though she was sobbing uncontrollably, but I couldn't tell from behind.
Then the kids I was playing with asked me why I had lied?
"I didn't lie", I said.
At that age, I guess you don't realize that omitting something is as bad as telling a lie.
Barbara, the young girl of six or seven said, "No he got out. I saw him."
What Barbra probably didn't know is that he had used the being buried a few times that day and had reemerged once and then been reburied again and she didn't know.
"Where is he now then?" I asked.
"He must have gone home." She said.
That convinced my friends that I hadn't lied, but I still wasn't sure.
"Maybe he's still buried. Can you guys help me check and make sure he isn't?" I asked.
What happened next surprised me. I was thinking they would want to make sure no harm would come to Adam and help me check.
"No", they said.
Guess they didn't want any part of it. Can't say I blame them looking back now.
Well I went over to the spot and started digging, but he wasn't there, so I assumed Barbara was correct and he had gotten out and when his mom got home, she was relieved to find him there. What I didn't know at this time was that I was looking in the wrong place.
I wish I could say the story ended there. It would have ended sooner if I had told the truth.
Soon it started to rain. We all headed to our perspective homes to seek shelter from the storm. It was thundering and lighting something fierce. My little sister knew something was amiss. She is extremely bright.
She stood in the back corner of the house by the window facing the wooded lot.
The wind, thunder and lightning roared. Her screams pierced the daytime sky and turned it into night. She stood with fear and trembling somehow knowing the fury of the Lord was about. I remember giving her a hug and telling her it was alright.
Later after the storm dissipated I went outside. I had so much fun earlier that I didn't give any thought to Adam. Like I said earlier I never had any friends. I was anxious to rekindle the day and I went to ask Michael, the boy in the house behind me; if he wanted to come out to play.
He came out to play and we went over to the vacant lot. There were many of those hollow wooden tubes around and Michael began pulling them out of the ground. Instinctively I told him not to. He continued any way. He finally set upon one that he couldn't pull out of the ground. He pulled and pulled we couldn't free it. That was strange we thought. Michael then went over and found a fresh plant with the hollow tube and pulled it out of the ground root and all.
He questioned this and I explained to him how we used the hollow sticks to breath when we were hiding underground.
"Want to dig and see if anyone's here?" I asked.
Seemed like a crazy question.
Michael said, "No."
Michael then quickly grabbed the stick and it came free quite easily.
We stood there looking at the stick in amazement. One minute both of us pulling on it couldn't free the stick, the next it slid right out with almost no effort. Hard to believe we could be so stupid. When we looked down at the path we could see the ground had cracked a little. I thought it was from pulling on the stick.
Then came the bone chilling scream. I thought it came from the distance.
Did you hear that?" Michael said.
"Yes. It sounded like it came from over there." I said. I pointed off in the distance through the woods."
Michael just gave me a terrified look and ran all the way home.
Well I forgot about Adam after that. I didn't realize what had happened at the time, and I'm not sure if Michael did either.
About six months later they began clearing the lot next door to build a house.
The bull dozer uncovered something and I was in the back yard playing. I could see the horrific look on the machine operator's face. I was in the back yard playing so he was quiet about what he had found. I hadn't put two and two together at this point.
Later the next day when the family had returned from the store a policeman came to question my father and took him over in that direction. He came back quickly and I could hear him say he didn't know anything about it. Then my Dad gave me a puzzled look,
"Oh well", he said.
Later I saw all the police line fencing off the area. I didn't know what to make of it.
A Year later, on a warm spring day; I took a walk over to Adam's house. After all hadn't Adam promised to be my very best friend? I knocked on the door completely unaware at least on a conscious level what had happened to Adam. His Mom was vacuuming the stairs and I could see a baby in a walker in the background.
"Can Adam come out to play?" I asked.
Her first reaction was anger.
"Do you think that's funny? Who put you up to this?", she asked. As she opened the door and looked around outside to find perspective hidden children waiting to get a rise out of a vulnerable women.
"No. I was just hoping Adam could come out to play", I said. I glanced up the stairs that were directly behind her hoping to see Adam bounding down them.
She looked behind her at the stairs to look where I was looking and she instinctively knew what I was hoping to see. She immediately burst into uncontrollable tears.
Her husband came in from the next room and immediately gave her a hug and began comforting her. Looking back now they must have really been in love to withstand something like that.
"Look we have this beautiful baby now," he said.
"I know. I could just see Adam running down the stairs to go out and play", she said.
The husband broke off the embrace and turned towards me.
"What's wrong?", I asked.
"Adam ran away." he said.
I asked a lot of questions. I tried to offer solutions.
"Maybe he's at a friend's. Did he pack a bag?" I asked.
Then all at once I became a suspect.
Adam's mom came toward the door. She was hysterical again.
"I talked to you that day, and I knew you were lying."
Her husband pulled her away and they talked in a whisper.
"I knew he was lying", she said again.
The husband came to the door.
"Adam is missing and we think you have something to do with it."
"I didn't help him run away", I said. Not knowing in the few minutes that I had been standing at the door that they had come to terms with accepting the fact that their son had not run away, but had been buried alive and that I had something to do with it.
"You had better leave", he said.
I did just that. I was now more confused than ever.
I have the best Mom ever as far as understanding stuff. I told her what had happened and that Adam's parents has accused me of helping him run away.
"Did you help him run away?"
"No", I said.
"Then don't worry about it."
I didn't worry either. Moms can protect their children and she always has. Come hell or high water she has.
Later that night my Dad's business phone was ringing and I answered it.
It was her. The women who, at this point wanted me to burn in hell for all of eternity. I'm sure that when I die she will be waiting for just that.
She wanted to speak to my mother. Why is it when you're a child, no matter what you do on this earth, they want to speak to your mother? With all the things I've done that she knows about. How could she still love me?, but she does. For that there can be no doubt.
I only listened to one side of the conversation. I only remember my mother saying.
"Because, I know he wouldn't do that."
Then I think Adam's mother said,
"You better hope he didn't, because if he did, I will be waiting for eternity for justice." at this point my mother burst into tears and slammed the phone down several times. I think she realized that I was at fault to some degree, but she knew my heart and knew I was not capable of cold blooded murder. She also knew I was capable of extreme stupidity.
My mother told me never to go to Adam's house again and she never again spoke to me about it. I did go there a few more times. They answered the door, but never really said anything. Most times they didn't answer at all.
I guess the obvious question is how did I discover what had happened. Since my mother left me when I was three and I loved her very deeply so I spent a lot of time looking back. I was always trying to remember, to recapture the past and love lost, an insane amount of time. That constant behavior kind of trains your mind to look back all the time.
I was constantly re-evaluating past events.
I asked myself many times if this really happened. I believe it did. I'm well aware it could be a fixed delusion. I will leave it for you to decide. Welcome to, "My Nightmare."
God forgive me, if this is true.
Here is a Villanelle I wrote about this event. Called" Twisted Faces".
Twisted faces in hiding places.
Listen to sound of screaming ground.
Rain poured down and washed all traces.
Reality's paces tied imagination's laces.
Mother's tears surround as they fall down.
Twisted faces in hiding places.
Buried in stacks of cold cases.
Were I caught he would have been found
Rain poured down and washed all traces.
Now I'm not in God's good graces.
Fear overwhelms my heart all 'round.
Twisted faces in hiding places.
Children fit in very small spaces.
I can't go back from lies I'm bound.
Rain poured down washed all traces.
I somehow covered all my bases.
Mother's great prince could have been crowned.
Twisted faces in hiding places.
Rain poured down and washed all traces.
| Author Notes | Chapter 3 is next. The next assignment. |
By keimosobie
The second assignment, write another persuasive essay. The first assignment had the desired effect on Mrs. Stone, but the effect wore off and when I went to collect my paper at the end of class this is what happened.
"I need to take another look at it. That was a horrible thing you did." she said.
At this time I had convinced myself that the whole thing wasn't my fault.
"I didn't do anything wrong."
"You lied," she said, giving me an accusing look.
"No I didn't," I argued. Great I thought, this woman’s a lawyer and now I’ve confessed. She is going to nail me to the wall.
Cathy spoke up and came to my defense. "He made the story up."
,
"You did," she asked.
"Yes I did."
Guess I was still the coward after all, Mrs. Stein knew I was lying, but she must be a defense attorney and not a prosecutor. She accepted my lie and thankfully dropped the interrogation.
When I finally did get the assignment back it was covered in red ink. Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying, I thought to myself. I decided to go for the sympathy grade for the next assingnment. I remembered my father had a brother who died in Vietnam. Since I was adopted I decided the new hypothesis for the next assignment would be, my father’s brother that died in Vietnam was actually my real father.
Before I start this part of my story, I want you to know, I started writing my auto biography when I was seven years old. Why am I telling you this you are wondering? It is because even at the age of seven, four years since the last time I saw my mother, I still wanted very much to find her. I wrote down my auto biography with every detail I could remember. I showed every person I could get to read it, like I was holding up a lost child poster and was offering a reward if anyone would help me look. Do you think a child loves his parent any less than a parent loves his child. If a child runs away they call the FBI and conduct a nation wide search. Then go to grief counceling. My Mother ran away and know explination was offered to me. Instead I was sent to live with strange people, who abused the heck out of me daily, My point is anyone who knew me, knew what I wanted more than anything on god's green earth. But know one would lift a finger to help.
Again I don’t have the actual essay anymore but this is how I remember the story.
James Joseph Ladd died in heavy fighting in the Quang Tri, South Vietnam
on May 8th 1967 It was a Monday. It is the 128th day of the year, and in the 19th week of the year (assuming each week starts on a Sunday). He was A US Marine- Semper Fi. He was 20 years old when he died.
Those are the facts I had to begin with. I have given my history and said that my mother gave me up for adoption when I was three and then I went from foster home to foster home and later adopted at age seven. When you are in a foster home and you are too young to know who you are. Like I was, the foster family often gives you their last name to use unofficially. So my name was William Russo. The problem was as I got older people asked me my name and I said William Russo. I wasn't just telling people that. I actually thought that was my last name.
So in an effort not to bewilder an already bewildered kid they just let me think that was my last name. I guess it also helps prevent the, would be foster kid from tracking down their real parents. So when I landed with the Ladd family at the age of seven I didn't know my real last name. I thought for all intensive purposes that it was Russo.
My new prospective family, the Ladd's never told me I had the wrong last name.
I say prospective family because when I got adopted at the age of seven it was more of an interview process. As crazy as it may sound, I was applying for the job of being a new member of the Ladd family. They were applying for the role of my Mom and Dad. It was a lengthy process. I had the power of veto and they did as well. My old foster parents were not letting me go without a fight either.
It was one very confounded and heart wrenching process. Even today I can't help wonder if I didn't make the wrong decision. Back to the assignment. The Ladd family had two males. William Ladd Senior and William Ladd Junior. That made things difficult for me as my name was William Russo. So of course I had to change my name. In the choosing of the new name my new father wanted me to use the name James Joseph.
"Why don't you use the name James Joseph after my brother that died in Vietnam?" he asked.
"Was he my father?" I asked.
He thought about it for a second then said, "no".
I said,"I don't want the name then".
I guess I wanted to force his hand to make him tell me the truth. He just stormed away angrily.
My grandparents on my mother's side of the family used to have a picture of James Joseph. It was a five by seven in a frame on the end table. They used to make me look at it and then they would ask me who he looked like?
They would never come right out and tell me who he was to me, but they alluded to it enough times. They would always say they were scared of my father and couldn't talk about it.
Then there was my great grandmother. She was the only woman in the world with the balls to stand up to my father.
One Christmas Day while we were visiting my Aunt for our annual Christmas dinner. I spent some time visiting with my great grandma. She was in her late eighties and lived with her daughter and it was said she was suffering from senile dementia. My great grandmother was especially fond of chocolates and she would always have four or five boxes of chocolate hidden about her room. I remember sneaking in there and finding a box of chocolate. The only problem was when you found a box of well hidden chocolate you had no idea how long it had been hiding so you were taking a risk when you ate some. To make matters worse, she didn’t like all the chocolate, so she would have a few pieces in the box that she would bite into, then decide she didn’t like it and spit back in the box.
On this particular evening she opened her bedroom door that she recluses in and motioned me over with her finger, she had a box of chocolate in her hand.
"Can I get my little sister? She would like some chocolate too" I asked.
"No", she said.
"Why are you being so nice to me? When all the other kids would love some chocolate."
"You're special", she replied.
"Why am I special", I asked.
"You're Buddy's boy", she said.
Well I was confused by this. I knew Buddy was my father’s brother’s name.
James Joseph Ladd also known as Buddy Joe. I asked my father and mother about it immediately.
"Why did great grandma say I was Buddy's Boy" I asked.
"Don't listen to her she's senile," my dad said.
I couldn't argue with that. It was collectively known by everyone that she was suffering from some sort of senility.
As I walked into the next room I could hear my Father say to my Aunt.
"Would you tell her to keep her mouth shut.".
"Buddy was her boy," she said in reply.
I was ordered to keep away from senile great grandma after that.
| Author Notes | This chapter will continue with part B. |
By keimosobie
My father was lying to me. This man, who spanked me many times for lying. My father who's favorite saying was, "You lie to your friends and not your family." It just took me twenty four years to figure it out. My fathers side of the family has always been shrouded in mystery. You see my grandfather, my father's dad, had died at a pretty young age. Not sure how young exactly but he told me that his mother remarried and his new dad was an alcoholic and an abusive bastard. That's about all I could get out of him. My Dad left home and he went to live with his aunt and she has been my unofficial grandma ever since. My father's younger brother Buddy had gone to live with his grandmother. The senile lady with the chocolates.
I went to a family reunion one time in queens were the Ladd family had taken up residence. It was the area just south of the Throgs Neck Bridge at the time it was a predominately Irish section of queens. I was bombarded with lot's of family that I had never met before. Cousins and aunt's and uncle's. While at the party one of my cousin's approached me.
"Hey you want to meet your grandparents?" he asked.
"Sure," I said.
"You have to come with me now," he said.
"Just let me tell someone where I'm going," I said.
"No you can't tell anyone and you have to come now," he said.
I had to think about this for a minute. I was in a strange city I'd never been to. With a cousin I never met. I had to leave my family without telling anyone. My father would probably kill me if he found out.
My cousin saw my hesitation on my face and said, "Do you want to meet your grandparents or what?"
"They are not really my grandparents. I was adopted," I said.
"They are your real grandparents," he said.
I couldn't imagine how this could be possible, but it definetly made me curious.
So I did the bravest thing I have ever done as a child. I went with him. It was farther than he had said. It was dark outside and he lead me through a maze of back alleys and holes in fences and blocks away. The further away we got the more anxious I was getting. We went into an apartment building up some stairs and into an apartment. The apartment seemed plain and dark and dingy. There was not much furniture as they were both sitting in wheelchairs that faced a small T.V. My cousin slipped out real quick.
Here they were in living color. I had been brought to stand before my father's sworn enemy. Bad blood between them there could be no doubt, but I was desperate for answerers. I went over to the enemy's camp to get them.
I saw my grandmother and, who my cousin told me was my grandfather.
"You look just like your father." grandma said.
"You know I was adopted, right?" I asked.
"They never told you who you are? I know your mother too," she said.
Well the whole thing was a bit overwhelming. I was only eight years old, but it was five years since I had any news of my mother who I was desperately searching for in every face and every crowd. However unlikely it was, I at long last had some news. I just couldn't piece together how it was possible.
"How do you know my mother?" I asked.
"I saw her not too long ago. Everyone knows her." she said.
I felt a strange flood of relief to hear she was alive and well.
I asked many questions. "Who is she? Where is she?" but no answers came.
"There is not much time. Don't you want to know your grandmother?" she asked.
I asked her why she was in a wheel chair? I was young and thought there must have been some terrible accident.
"It's hard to grow old. Wait till you grow old, you might need one too," is all she said.
I was there for only two minutes when my father came bursting through the door.
This must have been his childhood home for him to find it so quickly. I didn't tell anyone where I was going and slipped out undetected and traveled a good distance. Yet there he was two minutes later. I was scared to death. To risk my father's anger was a dangerous thing. He was angry. Thankfully it was directed more towards his step dad. My father had some words with them that I can't remember. I do remember the anger. My father grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the door and I could here his step dad yelling.
"He needs to know who he is."
Boy did I ever. But it was not to be. My father was angry and wouldn't talk to me. I had betrayed him and I knew to just keep my mouth shut. I was thankful not to catch a beating. Which I didn't. I did meet my grandmother if only briefly. I know now that whatever differences my father and his step father had. There are two sides to every story. My grandmother died some 25 years later in a nursing home. Senile dementia I was told. God knows what happened to Step Dad. Guess as I got older I could have looked her up and got answeres.But I really never thought about it again untill the English assignment. I never set eyes on either of them again.
| Author Notes | This was a very confussing time for me. Looking back now I can see the answeres were right in front of me. I just couldn't see them. |
By keimosobie
That was another one of the hints that I had been given. I just couldn't get anyone to confirm anything. Nobody tells you anything when you have a mean Irish dad who is as strong as Mike Tyson and equally violent. It's like trying to get information from the mobs family. This brings me to another clue I found at the annual family barbecue. That was always a fun time. Every year we would have a big barbecue and the entire family would come. This one year was a good one. Everyone had gotten completely hammered. When you're a child you don't really know what drunk is, but you get caught up in the merry making and mirth. My Uncle Neil and my Aunt were there. They picked me up and told me they hadn't seen me since I was three. I just went along with it. It was easier just to agree with people when they said things like that rather than going through my adoption at age seven spiel and telling them they couldn't possibly have known me when I was three.
There was a part of me that remembered them. They used to come and visit my real mom when I was still in diapers. They would bounce me on their knee and give me gulps of beer. They used to tell me a joke that I often repeated.
"Here comes the garbage man stick your can out the window." It was strange hearing that joke again at the barbecue. It was as if something I thought was dead had sprung back to life, if only for a fleeting moment. Well, I wasn't in diapers anymore. My Aunt and Uncle Neil were still the life of the party. I said to my mother, "you know my aunt and uncle Neil said they haven't seen me since I was a three. I don't think that's possible."
My mother was pretty drunk too and she was very animated when she said," You know what? Anything is possible."
If Blues Clues was around I would have shouted a clue and written it down in my trusty notebook. More confusion set in. How could my father's relatives have known me when I was three?
Oh well, I wasn't going to let anything get me down at this party. I was off to the pool jumping through small inner tubes. I found I could dive through holes smaller than my body, and my weight and force would pop me through. I Showed this to Uncle Lafe who was a six foot five two hundred and seventy five pound man. I dared him to jump through one of the small inner tubes. He walked out to the end of the diving board and the hole was no more than ten inches in diameter. I slid it out in front of him. To my amazement he sprung of the board and into the tube and he went right through. That was a close one. I laughed and laughed.
Never one to settle I had to push the envelope a little. I had this little floating basketball hoop that was inflatable. The top ring where the basketball went in was about six inches. He dared me to jump through it. I was a little hesitant but how could I chicken out after he just broke the laws of physics jumping through the small doughnut.
I went out to the end of the board. I sprung off. Swish I went right through. I was prepared to let the game end there. Not uncle Lafe, no sir, he climbed back on that board insisted I put that basketball hoop in front of him. I tried to talk him out of it. He wouldn't have it. He sprung high off the board, came down like a jack hammer. Bam! Right into that little hole. Well he made it halfway through. Came out with that inflatable hoop wrapped firmly around his chest and stomach. We couldn't get it off. I was rolling with laughter. My mother had to run in the house and get the scissors and cut it off. It left a pretty good mark like a tourniquet, but he was okay.
Then a little while later my Uncle Olsen showed up. I don't know why but he was the only man alive that could make my dad act like a little kid. He came to the front door and called me over through the screen. Gave me a gun.
Said," Go get your dad. I want to play a practical joke on your mom."
I did what he said. Dad snuck over to the door, and I was listening as the plan was hatched. I was to go get mom and tell her Dad was arguing with Uncle Olsen. Which I did.
"Mom, Mom, come quick something wrong with Dad and Uncle Olsen."
She came quickly and the arguing between the two sounded intense and angry and very genuine. Uncle Olsen pulled out his 38 and started firing. Bang, Bang, Bang. Dad went down pulled out his gun, and started firing. My Mom is not the bravest women and she ran the other way. Mom thought I was the bravest as I ran over to help my fallen Father. She yelled for me to come back. Just then all the laughing started. They were blanks. My Uncle Olsen always knew how to make an entrance. Mom was a little angry at first, but the thrill of it seemed to wash over her and a few good hugs from Dad and Olsen and she was good.
| Author Notes | This book continues with the family barbecue part b. |
By keimosobie
I don't think I mentioned that my dad was a construction boss. Some of his men decided to do some work on that Saturday, and they showed up at our house at the party. They knocked at the door. I answered it. There they were sweaty and grimy from a long hot day banging nails on a roof.
"What can I do for you guys?" I was always polite. They had come by the day before to get paid, but they arrived late, and dad had left before he could pay them. He always paid his guys in cash.
"We want to get paid," they said.
"Now's not a good time." I said. It was late afternoon and my dad was blind drunk and having a good time with all his family and friends.
"Please just tell him we want to get paid." I knew my dad and instinctively I knew this wasn't a good idea.
"Just come back tomorrow," I said.
"Look just go tell your dad we want our money."
They at least knew enough not to approach him directly. So I did my best to intervene without placing myself in harm's way.
Dad was sitting on the back deck looking a little weather beaten from the hot sun and alcohol. Drink in hand smile on his face. Friends and family scattered about. Everyone having a good time.
"Dad!", I shouted over the music and the loud tone of people.
"What?"
"Two of your guys from work are here and they are looking to get paid."
"Invite them in. Tell them they are welcome to the party but I an't working right now."
I said to them," Dad said you are welcome to come in and have fun at the party but Dad's not working right now.'
Instead of just coming in and having a drink, and giving my dad a little respect, one of them said, "We worked hard for our money and we want it now."
There would be no reasoning with them. I could see this was going to end badly.
I was not drunk or crazy like these fellers seemed to be. I went back to Dad for the second time.
"Dad, they just want to get paid and they don't seem to want to take no for an answer."
"Okay send them back here and I will talk to them." he said.
Well I went back to the door.
"You sure you want to do this? Dad said I can bring you guys to him."
One of the guys had some sense and said forget it. He walked away.
My Dad probably thought they wouldn't have the balls to come back and disturb him. My Dad is all about respect and this was disrespectful.
I brought him to face my dad. I was surprised my dad was pretty polite. Put his arm around the guys neck and pulled him close like he was his best friend.
"Why don't you come in and join the party. It's a nice day. There's plenty of food, lots to drink?"
"No Bill, I just want to get paid, I got to go."
"Did I do something wrong to you?" he asked, and he tightened his elbow around the guy's neck.
I could see the guy start to squirm a little. "No, it's not like like that Bill. I just want to get paid and go home."
"I'm a good boss, I don't ask too much." The guy was trying to squirm out of his tightening grip. "Can you explain to me how you think it's okay to come to my house and disrespect me."
"No. No. It's not like that Bill, you are making a big deal out of nothing."
"You come to my fuck'n house while my friends and my family are here and you insult me by not accepting my invitation into my party, and then demand that I give you money."
I could hear the guy trying to reason with him. "Hold on a second Bill, just hold on."
When I said my dad was as strong as Mike Tyson, I wasn't kidding. The poor guy was in a panic. Dad just kept escalating louder, and louder, and finally he threw a round house that hit the guy in the jaw and shattered it into a million pieces. He melted to the ground like he was made of jelly. Out cold for longer than a ten count I can tell you that. I was quickly ushered somewhere else, and the cops soon arrived.
Dad asked," Not in front of my family please." Yes they took him away. Felony assault, not the first one either. Oh well. Party wasn't much fun after that. I guess it's not the only party to have ended like that, but it was my first.
By keimosobie
Well this pretty much concluded my semester of writing for English 101,but I still had many unanswered questions, and me never being one to leave well enough alone. I continued the assignment. Writing a paper I knew know one would read. Even though I was thirty years old and it was twenty seven years since I'd seen my mother, I had uncovered a clue in my last assignment and I had to solve the riddle. After considerable thought I started to flash back to a time when I was three years old.
It was close to Christmas time and I was Christmas shopping with my foster mother. We were in some mall somewhere in Nassau County and there was a long line for Santa Clause. Mom wanted to know what I wanted for Christmas. I guess in order to get me to think about it and say it out loud I had to wait in line. So I did wait for a considerable amount of time. I was told that Santa was some kind of magical being that could grant me what ever I wanted for Christmas. So to me it was like a prayer, I was offering my prayer to Santa, and I offered the same prayer to every wishing well I passed, and every birthday cake I blew out, and every time I got dragged into a church.
The Line was long and I remember it well for some reasons. I had to pee and was holding it in. Mom tried to drag me away a few times saying we would do it later, but I wasn't budging. I had to see Santa. I was desperate. I would eventually pee in my pants but, I got to see Santa. I got on his lap and I still remember the smell of stale beer on his breath mixed with the scent of my urine.
"HO, HO, HO, little boy what would you like for Christmas?" Santa said.
"Can you really give me what ever I want for Christmas?", I asked.
"Of course I can." he said.
He was probably thinking what could a three year old boy want for Christmas that could not be bought.
"I would like my mother to come back." I replied.
He looked over at my foster Mother and just said. "You have this fine woman right here."
"She's not my real mom",I said.
I could see Santa had a concerned look on his face and that it was a pretty tall order. Then he asked me," Well isn't there anything else you might want?"
" A big red fire truck!" I said. I guess I figured if I couldn't get my mom back, at least I wouldn't go away empty handed.
I remember getting my big red fire truck and playing with it next to the tree that Christmas.
It was one of the few times I remember being happy. I mean truly being happy since my mother had left me. I think that truck gave me hope that there was magic in the world and that all things were truly possible.
I would be lieing if I said i was'nt dissapointed a little, but I believed in Santa and in God and I new my wish would come true.
And I still believe they are, truly.
| Author Notes | This book continues with chapter 7 part b. My Christmas wish came true. |
By keimosobie
Well now we need to flash foward five years to Christmas Eve, around nineteen seventy five. I remember the car ride to my grandmother's house. My younger sister BethAnne was around five years old and my older brother Billy was around thirteen and myself, Timothy, around eight. The conversation went something like this.
"What do you mean she's there? Forget it, we are not going!" said Dad.
"We have to go. The children are so looking forward to it," said Mom.
It was true we always looked forward to Christmas Eve at Grandma's. It was my mother's mother and my aunt and uncles and cousins would always be there. It was a magical time when I was a kid.
"What do you mean we are not going?"I asked my Dad.
"Yeah, what do you mean?" Mom asked.
No reply came from my Dad and we all continued to my Grandmother's. I was very curious but I was happy we were on our way and didn't think much more about it.
When we got to our grandmother's my aunt, Lori was visiting with her husband,Rob. What I didn't know was about to bubble to the surface. "You see, I was meeting my Aunt Lori for the first time or, so I thought; I began to tell her about my history."
"Even as a child I loved to tell the story of my life and a set of fresh ears was always welcome. My aunt seemed terribly interested in what I had to say."
"I was left in a foster home by my mother when I was three," I recounted.
"That must have been terrible for you," she replied.
"I miss my mother so much and many times I had cried myself to sleep thinking about her."
"I'm sure your mother had a good reason for leaving you," she said.
"Oh, I know why my mother left me," I replied.
"How could you possibly remember; you were only three?" she asked.
"She left me because she found a new man who didn't want kids," I said.
"So she left me in a foster home. I remember the day she left I asked her 'Are you coming back?"
"Yes," my mother had replied.
I don't know why, but I had the feeling she wasn't coming back. She didn't come back, or at least so I thought. That's when things got weird and they were about to get a lot weirder.
"See I didn't lie," my aunt said.
Thinking my aunt had simply misspoken, I said,"She did lie. She never came back."
Later on after we opened the gifts I was sitting on the sofa and staring at my Uncle Rob. I wasn't just staring.
You see five years earlier, the day before my mother and her new boyfriend were going to put me in a foster home, they took me out and asked me what I wanted to do. I wanted to ride in one of those push pedal cars. So they took me to a junk yard and they paid the junk guy some money to let me ride the car around.
At the age of three I knew what was going to happen. Don't ask me how. As I rode my car around I stopped in front of my mother and her new man and I stared at them. Partly because I was hoping the guilt would make them change their mind and because I wanted to remember this man-this man who was separating me from the only thing I had in the world.
I parked in front of them and stared at him. Burning an image of him in my mind and hoping guilt would change his mind. They told me to stop staring so I pedaled on. Well, here I was five years later sitting on the sofa looking at Uncle Rob in his chair.
Somewhere from my subconscious came the memories of a three-year-old and without even realizing it, I was staring at Rob the way that I stared at him when I was riding that pedal car five years earlier. I was trying to poor the guilt on him all over again, without even realizing what I was doing. Just then poor uncle Rob became very distressed.
"Oh my god. He is staring at me the way he looked at me that day."
Racked with guilt he put his hands over his ears and was making this high pitched whining noise rocking back and forth. I must admit, I didn't really know what was happening. Later that night when things had settled down, my aunt and uncle talked with my parents, they argued for some time.
"I told you, I knew we shouldn't have come here. I knew this would happen," My dad said loudly.
They seemed to come to a settlement and my aunt came to me and asked me an even more peculiar question, at least I thought so at the time.
"Would you like to come live with me and Uncle Rob?"
Here it was the answere to all my wishes posed to me in a question. Here it was Christmas Eve and five years since I sat on Santa's lap and asked for my mother to be returned to me. I didn't even realize the corallation between my christmas wish when I was three and the chance I had been given on Christmas it self till I began writting this.
Well I thought about just saying yes, but I wanted more to go on. I still wasn't sure. I wanted to know if she was my mother.
"Why would I want to do that?" I asked.
"I think you know." She said.
My father immediately interjected. My father who had lied to me about who I was, would now rob me of the one chance I had at reuniting with my mother.
"That's it. You have your answer," he said.
I was immediately ushered off into to some other room. Later I tried to ask questions about what had gone down. I would not get any further information. With the ease of an eight year old, excited about Christmas. I quickly forgot the whole thing.
On the car ride home my mother asked, "Why did you tell your aunt about missing your mother so much?"
"She seemed interested," I replied simply.
"Well you shouldn't do that," she replied.
"Okay Mom," I said.
Well that's the story except that when I got older my mom told me that my Aunt Lori and my uncle Rob had broken up.
"That's too bad," I said earnestly.
"You are the main reason," She said.
"How could that be," I asked.
"Just trust me," She said.
I wish this part of the story had a happier ending. Reading it back now it makes me sad still. So close but yet so far. I still havent got anyone to confirm that she is really my mother. I hope she dosen't feel to guilty about it. I think part of the problem was that after being seperated from my Mom for so long I had made an idealic picture of my mom. Almost angelic in nature. So when I actually did meet her she didn't come close to the image I had created for her. She probably never would have either. You see I was not in love with her anymore. I was in love with what my mind had created her to be the last five years. I just didn't realize it till now.
By keimosobie
This next part of the assignment I have never actually written, and I have only told this story to one person in my life and that's my wife. I must warn you this may be very upsetting to you.
It starts in my fourth grade elementary school class. My teacher is a very kind woman named Miss. Crabtree. She is a true Christian woman and she always taught the class about Jesus and God. Only after the class begged her to tell us about Jesus. I don't think anyone in our class really new about Jesus and who he was.
Miss Crabtree knew she wasn't supposed to teach us about religion and God, but she was a true Christian, and was willing to risk losing her Job to teach us about him.
She gave us many lessons and we were thankful to hear them. My parents did not go to church or believe in God, and I didn't know much about him. One day the teacher announced something unusual to the class.
"What if I told you someone in this class was going to sell his soul to the Devil."
Well everyone in the class of thirty something fourth graders wanted to know which one of us would actually do that. She asked us all if we wanted to know and we all said yes. She looked around the room and told ten of the kids to stand in front of the class.
I was one of the unlucky ten. " One of these ten will sell there soul to the Devil." she announced. We all looked around at one another wondering who it could be. All of us thinking the same thing,' Well I certainly wouldn't do that.'
Then she began to tell one person at a time to sit down. I must say I was getting more than a little nervous as the numbers dwindled. Till finally there was two of us left. I ran to my seat not waiting for her to say who it was. She then announced to the whole class that it was me. She had just told me that I would one day sell my soul. Frightening thought for this fourth grader let me tell you.
I went to her during a break and I asked her if this was true. She must have been a prophet of some sort, because she kind of turned her head and looked far off into the distance and scanned through a few things. She than looked at me and said," yes it's true." I was hoping the dramatic fashion I had revealed this to you would change the outcome, but it has not.
She than said, "You will come and find me later on in life, but I won't be able to help you."
"How will I find you?", I asked.
"By the class picture", she said.
I pleaded with her," Isn't there anything you can do?"
She then did her far off looking/scanning the future and said, "No."
"You won't come and find me now since I have told you that."
I just looked at her imploringly and asked," Is that it am I'm doomed than". She just looked at me and said,"he wont let you perish." I was not sure what that meant, but it gave me some hope.
Well I must tell you I was more than a little nervous about the entire situation and I went home and told my mother what had happened.
I always told my mom everything because she was really smart and I trusted her and she told me not to worry about it, so I didn't.
I think my mom called the school and got the teacher in trouble too. The teacher was mad at me, but You can't tell an eight year old kid he is going to sell his soul and expect him to just be alright with it. Point is I believed her.
I think there is a lesson to be learned from this story, so I'm sharing it.
It is very hard for me to write and equally as frightening. I hope it is appreciated.
| Author Notes | This chapter continues with. The Devil lives in Mastic part B. |
By keimosobie
Many years passed and the ocean of time washed my fourth grade experience from my mind. Even with such information life goes on. When I was in H.S. I started hearing rumors that the Devil lived in Mastic. I heard from a few people that he had revealed himself to them or someone they Knew. It was rumored that he drove a Pinto. He supposedly liked the Pinto because it would burst into flames when it was hit from behind, and the occupants would immediately burn to death.
Once when I was fifteen or sixteen something strange happened to me. I was at William Floyd H.S. I had just finished weighing in for my wrestling meet later that afternoon after school was over. I had just barely made weight and was given a two pound allowance to eat for the day. I had starved myself so I could make weight, so some fellow wrestlers and I went over to the Deli across the street. While I was waiting for my sandwich a kid about my age called out my name.
I could see him talking to a few of my friends and they immediately pointed towards me. He approached me "You're Tim Ladd." he asked.
"Who wants to know", I asked. 'I thought it was strange that someone I didn't know had somehow tracked me down inside a Deli'.
"Satan told me you were here", he said.
Well that blew my mind a little. The boy went on.
"He is here for you." he said.
"For me." I asked.
"Yea, for you and a few others. He's right over there next to that building." he said, pointing across the street to a candy store where all the heads would hang out and smoke pot. "He was talking with us and I asked him why he was here? He mentioned a few names and when he mentioned your name he said you were close and pointed to the deli." he said.
"He hangs out over there with us sometimes. He lives over by the William Floyd Estate. He likes it there because of some terrible slaughter that happened near there way back when." he continued.
"Well im not going over there." I said.
"He dosen't want you write now. Satan said he still has a while to wait, but he's staying close by. He told me where you were and I wanted to come see for myself. He told me not to say anything to you."
I was again terrified. At this time in my life, I was not a firm believer in the afterlife, and I was skeptical. The bus was leaving to go to my wrestling match and I had to get on it. My sandwich was ready and I left.
Why would Satan come and seek me out? I couldn't figure it out. I was now more confused than ever. I honestly didn't know what to make of it. I didn't tell anyone and I just went on with my life, and the ocean of time drifted me away from this incident, and eventually I forgot about it.
| Author Notes | Some may not believe this story but it's true and I'll take any lie detector test to prove it. This chapter continues with the devil lives in Mastic part C. |
By keimosobie
I don't know where my fall began. Maybe I'm still falling, maybe I have allways been falling. There so much I don't know about the world and life and death. It's tough to say why things happen. I know I was not living right back then. I was drinking and partying and I was taking LSD a few times. I had a job working in Westhampton for a roofing company that paid me ten dollars an hour. My car broke down and I had no way to get back and forth to work, so I started hitch hiking. I was making some money, but it was never enough to fix my car and the people who lived in the house I was in were constantly stealing from me.
They would steal my food from the fridge. One time the individual speakers inside my stereo speakers were stolen. They would syphon my gas when my car was running. They would steal money from my draw in my room. I couldn't afford to find a better place to live. I was in a very bad place.
It was summer and roofing in the summer was a tough job. I would hitch hike to work and I would walk miles sometimes before I would get a ride. then I would work all day and have to hitch hike home. I would walk for miles and I was tired and hot.
When you don't get a ride you begin to pray for one. Hundreds of cars would pass and no one would stop. It would make me angry. I began to curse humanity. How could people be so crewl. All these people were going my way but no one cared. No one stopped. I was begining to feel cursed and I wrote this poem I'd like to share with you about it called "Cursed"
I knew the taste of death from seed.
Ill child has life conceived.
Left with hunger and with need.
My father lay dead in his tomb
Left me locked in a lonely womb.
Never safe from this curse-ed wound.
I can never undo what I did wrong.
Not even with this poet's song.
Even if I pray the day long.
An empty heart deprived of love.
God's peace flown away like a dove.
Rain falls like tears from up above.
Pounding on the screaming ground.
A promise broken fears abound.
Lies were spoken and never found.
I think this curse will last forever.
For something that should have never.
God's judgment is the final lever.
Cursed from beginning to end.
A curse that can never be rend.
God's wrath to me he did send.
It was somewhere around 1990 I think. I was renting a room in a house in Mastic. My future wife's half sister Donna had rented the house and then rented one of the rooms to me. I think God, or something super natural had a hand in me living there. If I can just veer off a bit I'd like to tell you an incredible story about meeting my wife and explain what I just said.
I met my wife while I was living in Mastic sharing a room in her sister house, at least I thought that at the time. She would come to visit her nephew TJ. It wasn't love at first site. We would sit and talk on the couch in the living room. We were good friends. After three months of this we went on our first date. Twenty two years later we are still together.
After I was living with my wife for three years we were out with one of her friends from high school named Tracy. I remembered her from high school because she was very popular and stikingly beautiful, and she still is actually.
Tracy said," I remember Tim he was in our math class."
It was then I realized something sort of significant. My wife sat next to me in math class in tenth grade. I was a year behind in math so she was in 9th grade.
She was very kind to me and she was very good at math. I was a typical lazy teenager and never did the homework and she would give it to me. We talked a little and I was attracted to her personality. She was a little heavy set and I wanted to ask her out, but I wanted a thinner more pretty girl. Well eventually I dropped the class because I was failing.
Before I left the class I wanted to ask her out, but again I didn't do it. I remember leaving the class and walking away sure I would never see her again. Then I started talking to God.
"Why can't I be a better person God? I know how a person looks shouldn't matter. It's what's on the inside that counts." Tears began to well in my eyes and I poured my heart out to God, and just then the light broke through the window at the end of the school hallway and bounced of the lockers causing rays of light to be strewn up and down the hallway as I walked through them. It was a very magical moment.
Now here it was all these years later and I was living with her. I guess God brought me to the person I should have been. It seems even though the Devil somehow had a hand in my life, so did God.
That was just a small aside I thought somehow kind of worked into the story. Anyway I was hitch hiking back and forth to work. Then the unthinkable happened.
| Author Notes | This story continues with the Devil lives in Mastic part D. |
By keimosobie
I don't know how many days I spent hitch hiking back and forth to work, but I was tired of it. Of course I had no one to blame but myself. When I got paid instead of putting money away to fix my car, I was spending my money on partying and having a good time.
I used to have a cross around my neck that I held and prayed with as I hitch- hiked. It's Kind of a strange story of how I acquired the cross. I had been living in West Hampton, and I was renting a room in a house with three Suffolk County Cops who were in the academy. I had my own roofing business and I had a helper named Billy. He was pretty much homeless, and I would get him an apartment somewhere and pay his rent for him, or else he wouldn't pay his rent. When I moved to Westhampton that year he followed even though he had no place to live. I let him stay in the basement in the really cold winter nights. I did my best to help him, and I taught him the trade of roofing.
Everyone called him dirt bag Billy because he almost never showered, or had clean clothes. He used to go to this old dumping ground and dig up old medicine bottles and sell them for beer. I don't know how it came about, but we talked about doing some grave robbing. Wondering what kind of treasures we might find. I had heard it was legal to dig up a grave over a hundred years old, and he said he knew an old cemetery. I told him I couldn't really go through with it. It was just too creepy for me.
That's when my shovels started disappearing. Eventually my cop friends told me that someone had dug up some graves in the old cemetery and Billy had recently came to me with this coffee can full of religious chains and rings. They said it wasn't illegal, but if they caught him in the act they could get him for trespassing. I had purchased one of the crucifixes and put it on a silver chain before I knew where it came from. He told me some old religious lady had given him the jewelry. When he first gave it to me out of the can, it was strangely very hot. It had a little blue stone in the middle.
I know it sounds very creepy, but it's what happened. Didn't fully realize it at the time. Anyway I paid the price for wearing it. Around a year after I got it I was riding waves at the beach, and one wave I was riding drilled me into the sand and folded me in half almost breaking my back. When I got back to the blanket I noticed my chain and cross were no longer around my neck. My back still isn't right some twenty years later.
Billy has long since died at around age thirty. They say he drank himself to death or something. He had a tough life and deserves pity. May God have mercy on his soul.
Anyway I had the crucifix around my neck and I would pray to Jesus and Mary and God and the holy spirit for a ride.
Once when I was going past a church the Pastor of the church came and said, "God wants me to give you a ride."
"He told you that?" I asked.
"Yes he wants me to prevent something, but it's inevitable anyway."
Wouldn't tell me what it was. I was just happy to have a ride. Strangely enough that's my church now. I go there every Sunday. It's called Lamb's Chapel in Center Moriches. You won't find a better church anywhere. Any way that pastor isn't there anymore.
Well most times I never got a ride. Just walked and walked while every car just ignored my request for a ride. I got angry with God and Jesus and I know, I shouldn't have but I cursed them both.
| Author Notes | this book continues with the devil lives in Mastic part E |
By keimosobie
I was still hitch hiking everyday back and forth to work. It was easier to get a ride in the morning. I might only have to walk two or three miles before I got a ride. On the way home I would walk for miles and miles sometimes six or seven. After working all day and walking seven miles in the ninety degree heat I would get pretty delirious.
I would try to make deals with God to get a ride. I got so desperate, as difficult as it is to admit it, I started asking Satan for a ride. I even started telling Satan I would give him my soul for a ride. Then I would usually say I was just kidding and say I would never do that. I didn't pay attention to the warnings I had been given. I couldn't think of anything else but getting a ride. Once a Pinto had pulled over and I ran to it. On the way I said to myself, just kidding. Then the pinto started to pull off without me.
I hated when people did that. People would scream out the window past you and scare you half to death, or they would pull over and wait till you ran up to them then pull up a little more, and they would eventually just take off and leave you. It was a terrible situation. I should have just given up the job and tried something more local.
Once I said," I would sell my soul to the next car that passed me if they gave me a ride." Well I didn't see any car pass me, but there was the Pinto pulled over and waiting. I ran up and hopped in. Off we went. I thanked him for the ride. I had walked almost all the way already and It was quick ride.
I asked,"Where are you heading." Thinking if he was going my way I could get closer to my home.
He said," Anywhere you want to go."
I remember looking at his feet as he pressed the pedals and they seemed a little odd like his feet weren't moving. Just his legs. Since he didn't tell me where he was headed and I needed to make a left and go about a mile and a half to my house,I just told him," Here's good", as he pulled over he said,"Okay Tim Lad." Which I thought was funny because I didn't remember telling him my name.
I got out and he pulled away and then I started to get a little apprehensive over what might have just happened. I kind thought in order for a person to sell his soul it had to be a clear barging. I just dismissed the whole thing not sure what had happened.
Soon after I got fired from my job in Westhampton. I couldn't find one. When I went to collect the unemployment, I kind of lied about when I was fired, so I could collect sooner. They caught me and I didn't get any unemployment for at least a month. I had no money and no food and I was in a bad spot. I got real sick too. I never went to the Dr. Cause I couldn't pay. I didn't realize they couldn't refuse to see you.
I think what saved me is I went to see a catholic Priest. I told him what happened while I was hitch hiking and he told me if I had sold my soul I would Know. I made a full confession and I could feel my sin just wash away from me. I got some antibiotics from a friend and I got better. Well that was the end of my experience with Devil in Mastic. For a little while at least.
Every now and then I get anxious about it and this is a poem I wrote during one of those times. It's called, "If I Lose".
Against Iron bars my soul does rage.
The world that surrounds me is my cage.
And my pen is pressing me against this page.
My time bleeds away as I age.
My voice can lend no longer to song.
The space grows smaller where I belong.
Condemned for eternity for what I've done wrong.
I turn to face the angry throng.
I ask them to show me what I've done?
To show me where, it has begun.
When life was easy? When I was young?
Before, by the devil I had been stung.
I beg you for pardon for what's to come.
I pray to God in a relentless hum.
Mercy, mercy, mercy, some.
My hopes are done, my body numb.
As I stand before the fiery pit.
In the devils face I will spit.
If this is the end of it?
Then it's in hell I will sit.
By keimosobie
I wish I could say I let the whole thing go after that, but me being one to never let things go, I started picking at my wounds. When I went to see the Priest he said, "You are a great worrier aren't you."
Yes I am, for that there can be no denying it. I started trying to get my soul back. Gambling on basketball shots I usually wound up missing. The fear of losing your soul is pretty overwhelming. I was embarrassed to tell anyone. I heard from a few psychics and they never had good news.
I did start being a good Catholic. Going to church on Sundays and making my adult confirmation. I went to prayer group and tried to increase my relationship with God.
I would fall into despair every now and then. One morning I sat on my couch after a sleepless night fraught with worry, and I cried out to God.
I said out loud, "I know the only way to get to the Father is through Jesus and Jesus I need to see him."
I just lay on the couch pouring my heart out. I don't know if I fell asleep and dreamed this entire thing or not, but this is what happened. I came to reality and I was being flown by two male angels. I wasn't sure where I was.
I was set down on the ground, not too gently either I might add. I saw a robed figure in the distance. I started to walk toward him and the angels immediately tried to force me to the ground. I started to wrestle with them. I'm not kidding. I was a wrestler in high school and I was not about to be pushed around.
Then the figure in front of me, God, I guess, told them to stop, and told them I wasn't aware of what was going on. They looked hesitant and God reassured them and they flew off.
I walked toward God, who was sitting on his throne and I knelt and I said, "My house is in order."
God said, "Let's see."
Someone came in and handed God a very thick crystal disk, and God took it and dropped it in a slot in the arm of the throne chair. He had that far off look in his eye like my fourth grade teacher did as he fast forwarded through my life.
He was saying, "Yes it's good", and then he slowed down and made a queer looking face. I asked him what was wrong. He showed me in regular time what he was looking at. I suddenly felt the need to defend myelf. I remembered something I read in the bible.
"I thought what a husband and wife did in the bedroom was between them only." I said.
Well I'm sure you want to know what God was offended about. Lets just say that my wife and I do not engage in that sexual behavior anymore, as it offended God.
God seemed to get past my offense and did not banish me from his sight immediately. Then God wanted me to get to the point of why I wanted to see him, so I did. I explained my fear of selling my soul and he told me not to worry about it. I was relieved to hear that.
There was one strange thing about God. While he was on his throne he had a face, and sometimes his face would short out and I could see behind it. It looked like a swirling mass of cosmic dust with an electrical storm in the middle of it. Only on a small scale.
I was then introduced to a few people that were in heaven. Saints and apostles I guess. Someone asked the figure that was behind me, that I could not see, if I could stay? The figure gave an answer that I could not hear.
The person then said, "Well he made it here once, didn't he?"
I said, "I still have work to do."
The figure behind me then said something else and I could only read the reaction of the person in front of me. It didn't look good. Anyway I do hope to make it back there some day.
I was taken to a table that seemed to go on forever, and people were sitting at every seat, and I was given a seat. I remember eating delicious foods and talking to the people around me. I can't remember what I ate, or what was said for that matter. I can remember being satisfied and happy.
Next thing I knew I was back in my living room. That's the whole story. Did it happen? I believe it did. Am I still in God's graces? Time drives the flocks from field to fold and things change. It's been a long time since this happened, and much has happened I'd like to share. I do think, since I have started writing this book, I have gotten my life back on the right course. I hope I'm not too late.
| Author Notes | The English assignment had eventually led me to the throne of God. The next chapter is the challenge. |
By keimosobie
The family and I decided to take a week and go camping at Smith Point. The waves on this day were incredible. A hurricane far out at sea had kicked up the surf. The waves were higher than the top of the dunes. They rolled in one after another. The sky was clear, and the sun shined brightly. I wanted it, all of it, everything a summer's day at the beach could give. Swimming out to get my first taste of summer fun, I rode some of those beautiful waves savoring it as much as possible. The thing about riding a wave this big is they can break on the sand and if your riding one that does that, it will drill you face first into the sand and then fold you in half breaking your back in the process. If you think that might happen you have to bail out of the wave and I mean quickly. That means stop, but tuck and roll so you don't brake.
I was in heaven, but it was very exhausting. The current was so strong I came back to the shallows to get my wind. This gave me time for some soul searching. I began thinking about the fact that I may have sold my soul. I was afraid I would be condemned to an eternity in hell. Gripped with fear. I wondered how I could possibly fix things with the Almighty. Mostly I was sick and tired of worrying about it. Next, I did something incredibly brave, and equally as stupid.
I issued this challenge to Satan, "Satan, if you think you have any claim to my soul then take it now or release it forever." I then raced back into the ocean and started riding the waves like a mad man.
All the while thinking to myself, he could just send a huge shark to devour me.
Come what may, I was ready. Knowing it probably wouldn't happen that way. I swam on till I exhausted myself completely. Feeling satisfied I waded out of the ocean. Ultimately victorious for conquering the ocean and Satan all in one blow. Sitting around the campfire that night, I was at peace, remembering the swell of the ocean, the roar of the waves and magic of the summer. Life was good.
The next day, I arose early. My wife took the baby home sometime in the middle of the night so she could get some rest in the air conditioning.
"Who wants pancakes?" I asked, deciding to make breakfast for everyone.
"Now it's time for a swim," I said. Samantha and Emily quickly asked to come along and we were off.
The waves were even better than they were the day before. I rode a couple and I got slammed and scraped my shoulder on the sandy bottom. I was still a little tired from my escapades of the day before and the lack of sleep in the hot tent.
As I came close to the shore, Samantha was there. "How is it out there?" she asked.
"It's a little rough," I said. "Why, do you want to go out?"
"Yes," she said.
I had seen Samantha handle some waves in the past, and thought it would be OK if I brought her out to jump through a wave or two.
The waves started to pound in furiously, one after another. One wave caught hold and ripped her from my grasp. She tossed and tumbled. The waves came with such force I managed to catch up with her and bring her through each wave. Next thing I new, we couldn't touch bottom. We were being pulled out to sea amazingly quick. I held her hand, swimming toward the shore with all my might, but the shore drew farther and farther away. Fear began to grip me. It was like falling in quicksand. The more I struggled the worse things were getting.
Fear and dread coursed through my tired body. I waved to the shore frantically for help. Their were two old men standing on the shore watching us, but they didn't venture in.
Cowards, I thought, there is a little girl out here.
My mind raced searching for another solution. I searched the sky for a rescue plane, but that was in vain. We were at least one-quarter mile out. Samantha wouldn't be able to tread water too much longer, even with me holding her.
Despair seized me. I told Samantha,"We might not make it back."
She replied,"what do you mean?"
I didn't tell her what it meant. My tired heart beat a mile a minute. Having no gas left in my tank, I thought about the fact that I could possibly save myself. I quickly dismissed that idea, resigning myself to the fact that these waters might be a chilling end to me. I figured we were both going to make it, or I was going to die trying. Feeling terrible that I got us in this situation made me feel even worse. I had to stop thinking negatively. It wasn't going to help us now anyway.
Telling Samantha to,"relax," I took her right hand in my left and swam with her in tow. She truly did not comprehend the danger we were in. She never cried or tried to lay blame on me. Heading for the shore with every last breath that was left in me. Running marathons didn't make me this tired. Fearing my heart would give out, without looking at the shore or looking at her behind me. I just drove for the shore.
Soon I felt the swell of a wave. It was a monster. Catching this wave would have been possible for me, but not with me towing Samantha behind me. If I caught the wave in she wouldn't and the force of the wave would pull us apart. She would be left to fend for herself and with the tide pulling out so fast she would be lost. If we didn't catch the wave then all the water from this humongous wave would pull us back out to sea as the water receded.
With no energy left and no other choice available, I decided to set her into the wave. It had to be done quickly. Samantha protested quite a bit. The wave was passed me, but with a Herculean effort I managed to push her through the back of the wave into it. My effort paid off as she began to coast toward the shore.
To my luck, another wave arrived right behind it. I rode it some way up the beach, but decided to bail out to look for Sam. I frantically searched for Sam and horrifically, I saw her start to get sucked back out to sea.
"Fight it, Sam. Stand up,"I yelled
"I can't," she cried.
She was in waist-deep water, but the current was so strong she couldn't stand. I was fighting to get to her, but I couldn't get there fast enough. She managed to stand up before another wave crashed down on her. She stood for maybe a half second before that wave hit. She caught the wave instead of passing through and back out to sea, ridding it up to the shore she got up and walked out onto the beach.
I slowly made my way to the shore. The water slipped from my body and I emerged from the sea. Lifting the hangman's noose from my neck in doing so. I swallowed about a ton of water, but somehow managed to tell her, " At least we are alive."
Sitting on shore to regain my composure, gratefully noticing we had gotten swept down the beach a little so I didn't have to face all the people that were now terrified by our harrowing ordeal. I asked Samantha not to tell her mother. Samantha's mother had a lot of problems and she would not of handled this well. I got up and slowly walked over to my beach chair and sat. Even though we were both safe I couldn't shake this feeling of dread. I was exhausted for about three days after this event. Two things you can be sure of. Samantha walked out of that ocean before I did and that I was a complete idiot for taking her out there. I quit smoking the next day and haven't smoked since.
It wasn't till later that day that I prayed an "Our Father". I felt praise coming from God, Jesus and the angels. That was when I remembered my challenge to Satan. He evidently took me up on my offer. I realize now that the two old men standing on the shore watching me were God and Satan. Satan had somehow worked it out with God to give me a test. If I had failed, Satan would have won and I would have been lost.
Jesus says that there is no greater act of love than to lay down your life for a friend. I think my test was to see if I would stay with her, or abandon her and save myself. It's easy to say you wouldn't abandon someone, but when your life is on the line, and your feeling like it's hopeless anyway. It's real easy to rationalize saving yourself. I didn't and we made it. By saving her life, I saved my own.
By keimosobie
I joined the Army when I was seventeen. I was a little immature in High School and I needed a little time to mature. I originally wanted to join the Marines. I called the Marine recruiter and he told me to come to his recruiting office in Patchouge, so I hopped on a bus and went on down.
I walked into the recruiting office and I saw a man in a green uniform and I asked where the Marine recruiter was. The guy was like you're kidding right?
"No. I'm supposed to meet the Marine recruiter here at Two o'clock. Where is he, through that door over there?", I asked.
The Army recruiter said, "Why do you want to join the Marines?"
"I just want to be a Marine." I said.
"I'll show you where to go in a second. First can you answerer some questions for me?" he asked.
"Sure, but hurry up I'm going to be late."
"Can the Marines let you pick the Job you want?"
"I don't know", I said.
"How about guaranteed European enlistment?"
"Again, I Don't know."
"How about guaranteed two year enlistment?" he asked.
"I don't know?"
"How about 20,000 dollars to help you go to college?" he asked.
"I really don't know what they have to offer and I'm going to be late for my appointment." I said.
"Well ask the Marine recruiter if they can give you all those things that we can give you?" he asked.
"Okay fine, now where is the Marine recruiter?"
He pointed out the window, and across the court yard was the Marine recruiting office. Right next door was the Air Force, and the Navy was close by also.
I don't know why I thought they would all be in the same office? Feeling more than a little foolish I headed over to the Marine office.
I asked the recruiter,"Do the Marines have a two year enlistment?"
"Nope it's a four year minimum."
I asked, "Can I choose the job I want?".
"Nope, you do what we tell you", he said.
"How about money for college?" I asked.
"No, we don't have that."
"How about guaranteed European enlistment?" I asked.
"Nope", he said.
"Please tell me why I should join the Marines?" I asked.
He said, "wait here one minute and I will show you."
He went off in the back room for a while and came out in his dress blue uniform.
He had a sword and lots of tassels and he looked really sharp.
"You see this uniform?" He asked.
"Yes", I said.
"This is why you join the Marines," he said.
Well if I hadn't walked into the wrong recruiting office. That statement probably would have been enough for me. After my appointment I went to the Navy and Air Force to see what they had. The Army had the best deal going.
The Army has some tricks of their own I found out. I went to take the entrance exam and the physical. Then I got to pick my job. They showed me all the things I had an aptitude for.
They show you all these really horrible jobs like mortar scout, and mine sweeper, lets not forget the infantry and everything else that sounds like death on the battle field. Then they show you something like I picked.
Petroleum supply specialist. They have a little video that goes with it. They show you everything that is related. Like refueling helicopters and setting up gasoline pipelines. They even showed you a 50,000 gallon storage tank that you had to climb up top and measure the fuel in it.
I did all the training. Truthfully they show you how to do all that stuff. When I got to my permanent assignment in Germany, they dropped me off in front of some gas pumps. That's when it hit me. I had just joined the Army to pump gas.
| Author Notes | My experiences in the Military. |
By keimosobie
The Army was one long miss adventure from beginning to end. One of my happier moments in basic training was when I received my M-16 A1 assault rifle. This is every kids dream. Every game of guns I ever played as a kid. Every war game. Every pretended battle game I had since I could remember was now coming to fruition.
It started with my weapons card. It was issued like the week before. It was kind of like a library card , but it entitled me to one M-16. I just kept taking it out and looking at it. I memorized the number on the card, I looked at it so much. The day we were supposed to get our weapon they reminded us to bring our card. Like I could forget. Although a few soldiers actually did forget their cards.
The whole company of about one hundred and seventy soldiers were assembled in formation in front of the armory. We all stood at parade rest waiting to be called to go get our weapons. Finally it was my turn. I went up the six steps and across the cement porch to the window of the armory. A more than slightly used M-16 A1 fully automatic assault rifle was placed in my hot little hands.
We had to double time it back to the formation as everyone was waiting to get their hands on one. I ran across the porch with my weapon held in front of me.
I was floating on air as I ran toward the stairs leading down to get back in formation. Just as I got to the top of the stairs, I tripped and pretty much dove off the top of the stairs. I did a superman dive and cleared the entire flight of stairs. With my weapon held tightly in both hands I hit the pavement. I landed on my stomach which knocked the wind out of me. I scrapped my elbows and knees horribly, and my weapon was torn from my hands by the impact. It flew across the pavement. In my horror, I saw, it was broken in half and pieces were laying on the ground.
I did get a nice round of applause from the entire company. The drill instructor came over and asked me, "Are you okay". It was a real gut check. I couldn't breath and I was bleeding from everywhere, and my recently acquired prized possession, was now in pieces on the ground, and I was completely humiliated in front of the entire company.
"Yea I'm okay.", I croaked.
"Pick up that weapon and bring it over here", he said.
I did what I was told. It turns out I hadn't broken the thing at all. The charging handles had come off and they easily snapped back into place. The drill sargent put it together and handed it to me. Turns out if you drop your weapon they make you do push ups. Even though I was bruised, battered, and barely breathing. I managed to do about thirty push ups.
I established quite a reputation after that. I was labeled the fucked up PFC(private first class). The entire company knew who I was. For weeks to come they would be talking about the spectacular crash of the fucked up PFC.
| Author Notes | The Army can be very unforgiving. |
By keimosobie
I enlisted in the military at age seventeen, which is allowed if you get your mothers written permission. While I was getting settled in at basic training the drill instructor visited my wall locker. I had a prom picture of me and my girlfriend. He picked it up and took a long look at it.
"You look so young and innocent. How old are you?", he asked.
"I'm seventeen", I replied.
"Oh, jail bait", he said.
I thought he was talking about the girl in my picture. I couldn't even imagine what he really meant at that point. Being only seventeen and living a pretty sheltered life with few friends growing up. I was clueless.
At that time in nineteen eighty five the military had a don't ask don't tell policy toward homosexuals. It meant that you were not allowed to be openly homosexual. In that year the US Army, as another enlistment perk, had the Buddy system implemented. This meant that if you and your best friend wanted to join the military together you could and you would be guaranteed placement together for your entire four year enlistment.
Well this was an invitation for homosexual men to join the military with their lovers and be stationed together the entire time. This definitely contributed to an increase in homosexual behaviors. There were about six soldiers out of twenty four, that I knew about in my barracks who enlisted for this reason.
I wasn't against homosexuality as an idea of two adults that loved one another. I just couldn't get my mind around the actual behavior. I just didn't want to know what was actually happening in my barracks.
You see when I entered the military there was a huge influx of soldiers into the Army and the training grounds had to be expanded. Usually the companies had three platoons. They added a fourth platoon to every company to allow for the expansion. The barracks was only big enough to hold three platoons. They used some old airplane hangers and converted them into barracks. They were about a quarter of a mile away from the rest of the company.
Little did I know that my drill instructor chose to be the leader of this platoon for just that reason. It was separate from the rest affording him greater autonomy with his troops. What I didn't know was that my drill instructor was a wolf that had been placed in charge of the sheep, and I was about to find out the hard way, that I was a prized sheep.
| Author Notes | this book continues with jail bait part B. |
By keimosobie
The drill instructor knew what he was doing as he built his web to catch unsuspecting soldiers, as we assembled the living arrangements in our airplane hangars.
"Move the wall lockers so they are four feet from the walls", he said.
'This was strange I thought to myself. We are already in crowded living space. Why would we move the lockers away from the walls and make it more crowded', I thought to myself.
I soon realized what the trap was with the wasted space behind the wall lockers. The drill instructor would sneak back into the barracks after lights out. He would peer behind his carefully situated wall lockers and shine his flashlight into the dark. He was hunting for soldiers who had given in to temptation. This is difficult to explain in a way that doesn't make me a little ashamed. When you spend day after day without a woman in sight, and you are in close physical contact with one another. Men get urges. The testosterone in our body starts to take over. There was one fellow soldier named Billing. His bed was close to mine. He had boyish features similar to mine. I was a little attracted to him.
One night after lights out the drill instructor came creeping around. He snuck in shined his light behind the wall locker. He found Billings and his bunk mate doing something behind the locker. The next morning was Sunday. We usually showered and did laundry before church. After we got out of the shower before we were dressed the drill instructor called Billings into his office. I really didn't know what was happening.
I did notice a pattern that on Sundays after our shower and before church he would call Billings into his office, usually dressed only in his underwear. Once while we were in church I was sitting next to Billings and he was crying. I tried to comfort him.
I said, "We all miss our families, but it's not so bad." I was thinking he was just home sick.
He said, "You mean you don't know?"
I guess I should have known, but I was just preoccupied with getting through basic training. I think this angered him a bit. There was definitely a pattern of the drill instructor catching people behind wall lockers and then ending up in his office on Sunday morning in their underwear. That's when Billings tried to turn the drill sergeant's attention towards me.
I was the only other boyish looking barely legal, (since I had just turned eighteen like a day ago.) Like I said, I was a prized sheep. Billings told me what would happen if I didn't take his place. He set out to destroy me. He now had some leverage with the drill instructor and he set out to make my life a living hell.
By keimosobie
Just for being plain stupid I think. He was the one who got caught behind the wall locker not me. I think Billings knew I was a little attracted to him. I would never have acted on any of those impulses however. It started out with me pulling K.P. duty. I was picked for the worst Job on K.P. duty as well. I always got picked to scrub dirty garbage cans and take care of the slop cans for the pigs. I was pulling guard duty and K.P. duty over and over.
I would confide in Billings, not knowing he was relentlessly setting me up for things. Once I snuck some food, from the kitchen? Like some donuts or Twinkies. The next day we would have a surprise locker inspection and I would get nailed for it. Billings would have that drill instructor ride me for anything. Not having my shoes shinny enough, or marching out of step. That was the light stuff. Things got worse. I was so tired from all the guard duty and kitchen patrol I didn't know what was happening.
Billings started to give me some warnings. I was bragging how in my pre qualifying attempt with my M-16. I just missed firing expert by one target.
"Tomorrow I will fire expert in my qualifying try." I said.
"You won't qualify at all." Billings said.
I couldn't even imagine what he meant by that till right before I went to qualify the Drill instructor grabbed my M-16 and started randomly adjusting my sights.
"My weapon is zeroed perfectly. Why are you adjusting it?", I asked.
"Oh. You got it all messed up." He said.
What could I do? The drill instructor was God. When I went to qualify, I had to aim two inches to the left just to hit my target. I qualified but just barely. I don't know what I did to Billings, but he was taking all his anger and frustration out on me. I'm good at looking back and seeing what happened, but at the moment it was happening, I was still clueless. As we got closer to graduation we needed to accomplish more and more tasks. Billings gave me more and more warnings. You won't pass he said. I didn't either. My drill instructor would talk to testers before I took my tests and my answers would be changed.
Once Billings came to me after lights out,
"Hey meet me behind the wall locker." Billings said.
I didn't go at first. Finally I got up and peered behind the lockers and Billings was getting a blow job from his bunk mate. I was a little freaked out. I jump back into my bunk. Just than the drill instructor shinned his light behind the locker. It had been a set up. Billings was trying to get me caught behind the locker and it almost worked. The drill sergeant was more than a little disappointed he didn't catch me.
Looking back now I don't know how I could have been so trusting of Billings, and so stupid. I never really fully comprehended what was going on. Luckily I had a bunk mate who was a bit older and wiser. He saved my ass, literally. See I was a nice guy and I did a favor for someone. We were going on a camp out. This is when the entire company heads out to the woods and sets up camp. Everyone had to partner up because we had so much gear to hump around we all carried a half of a tent, so we could share a tent together. By this time the drill sergeant knew who the soldiers were that liked to be alone together. The drill sergeant gave me a partner named Joey. He was one of the soldiers that joined the military on the buddy system. He asked me if I would let him, and his buddy be alone in our tent. I would have to switch tents with his buddy, so he could have some alone time with his buddy.
I agreed, but I was within ear shot of Billings. Billings found out I would be sleeping in another tent. Of course he laid a trap for me. There would be a lot of tent switching that night. They devised a plan that after everyone finished their business at a certain time in the wee morning hours everyone would run to where they were supposed to be.
So I got the call to go back to my tent and when I got outside the tent there where soldiers running in every direction. What a concentrated and coordinated event. When I got outside and started to run. Who caught me? You guessed it. It was my drill instructor. He had this really disappointed look on his face.
He said, "You too."
I didn't know what to say. He obviously had made his own conclusion. Even though I had done nothing he thought I had. Well the next Sunday after my shower he called me to his office.
I was still in my underwear. I started to go to his office, but my bunkmate stopped me.
He said, "Don't go in there like that you're not even dressed."
"If I don't I'll be disobeying a direct order." I said.
"Just get dressed quickly. When he comes out here, just say in a real loud surprised voice; you didn't want me to go in there naked did you drill sergeant."
That's just what I did. It worked perfectly. Drill sergeant came out of his office.
"Didn't I tell you to come to my office?" He asked.
I said just what my bunk mate told me to say. Drill sergeant turned around and walked back in his office and then yelled in a loud voice," Billings."
Billings ran off to the sergeant's office. Whatever billings had done to me, at least that wasn't happening to me. After I had gotten fully dressed,
My bunk mate said," You should go to the sergeant's office."
I said," Billings was still in there."
He said," I know, I want you to look around and tell me if you see him."
I knocked on the door. I was told to come in. I poked my head in.
"You needed to see me drill sergeant", I said.
The drill sergeant was sitting behind his desk sweating quite profusely and Billings was nowhere in sight.
Drill sergeant said," No I don't need you, that's okay."
I think that pissed billings off even more. Billings warned me that I might break my leg on the obstacle course.
He said," You will break your leg and have to recycle your training and start all over again."
I couldn't imagine what was in store for me next. Till at the end of the obstacle course you have to go down the slide for life. It's a zip line that you ride from about 60 feet in the air to the ground. At about five feet from the ground the drill instructor orders you to let go so you don't slam into the post the zip line is attached to. In this case you have to rely heavily on the drill instructor. If you release to early the height plus the speed you are traveling can cause you to, you guessed it, break your leg. So I was sliding down the zip line and the drill sergeant was screaming at me to release. I felt I was still too high and didn't release. He screamed again and I released. I hit the ground pretty hard and I felt something in my right foot snap.
By keimosobie
Well I hit the ground hard and would you believe I got screamed at. Their must be one drill sergeant that's in charge of the obstacle course and he must have seen what happened. I guess he's the guy they hold responsible if anyone gets hurt on the course. He ran over to me and got right in my face and started screaming.
"What the hell is your major mal function private? Why the hell do you release from my slide so fucking high? Are you out of god dam mind your mind? You must have your head up your ass!"
I had been in trouble a few times and never got an ass chewing like that before.
"I released when the drill instructor told me to", I relied. I was more than a little frightened.
To my surprise he said,"I thought so."
"He ran right over to my drill instructor and gave him an equal ass chewing."
I never saw a drill instructor get chewed out before. Especially in front of his troops.
"What the hell is your goddamn fucking problem? You are supposed to be in a position of trust! What the fuck are you doing?"
He ran back over to me and asked," Are you okay son?"
I wasn't okay, but I wasn't about to do basic training all over again.
"I'm okay", I replied. I did my best to hold back the pain I was in.
The drill instructor ran back over to my drill sergeant and said, "Your lucky he's okay, or I would have you court marshaled! Now you better get the fuck off my obstacle course."
I pulled K.P. and guard duty a few more times and that was all the abuse I got till graduation day. Believe it or not I still was unaware why I had been singled out. I knew I wasn't being treated justly, but I had no idea why.
We were all excited about graduation ceremony and I was talking to Billings, and I told him that my dad was coming to watch me graduate. He later approached me and told me that Drill Sergeant was going to tell my dad about all my homosexual activity. Still not aware that I was being deliberately set up, I just said, "What homosexual activity?"
Well my dad was in the barracks and we were talking near our wall lockers and the drill sergeant pulled him away from me for a second. My dad came back to me and said, "That lying SOB."
I asked him what he said, but he wouldn't tell me. My dad said, "Well I love you anyway."
I didn't know why he said that at the time. I've since asked my dad about it, but he won't talk about it.
Anyway I made it out of there. When I got to my advanced individual training(AIT), my foot still hurt. I was getting by with it until the two mile run. My training was in fort Lee Virginia. Turns out they take their running seriously.
They have a two mile cross country course up and down big hills and across the meadow and through the woods.
All the instructors compete over who's battalion has the fastest runners. My first run I unknowingly qualified for the post run. All the fastest two milers on the post would compete. My foot hurt and I tried to get out of it, but there was no way.
I was offered a three day pass if I won the thing. Well I hadn't had a day off in three months, so I ran my heart out. During the run I couldn't think of anything, but the pain in my foot. Strangely I think that helped. I didn't win. I came in 12th place I think. My time was ten minutes and ten seconds.
I sat down after the race and I didn't think about my foot. I was laughing and talking with fellow runners. I got up to walk back, and as soon as I took one step on my right foot, the pain was so intense, I fell down. I tried to shrug it off, but it was no use. I couldn't hide it anymore. Some girl insisted on helping me walk back, which I didn't mind so much. Later I got an x-ray and my foot was fractured. It was an old fracture, so they couldn't set it.
They gave me a Dr's order for no running or extended periods of marching for six months. My drill instructor was upset, because one of his top race horses was injured. Since my time was so good they let me finish my training without having to run again. If I was slow they would have held my training till I could run again.
That's the end of the sexual harassment I had to endure. I didn't realize what was happening till I had the time to look back and evaluate all the things that were said and done. I know what was done to me was terrible, but I forgive them. God wants us to let go of the past and concentrate on today and tomorrow. None of us are perfect and let he who is without sin cast the first stone. I'm not throwing any stones and I hope none of you do either. Their is a lesson here that I think we can all learn from however, teach your children, if they are going into the military? This could happen to them and watch out.
By keimosobie
When I was sixteen I got a job at the clubhouse in the condominum's where I lived. They were renovating the snack bar and I stopped in to ask for a job. I got hired and I worked the cash rgeister and there were some tables to wait. I would work the counter and it was like a bar that didn't sell alcohol. There was this pretty girl that was about sixteen who would come to the counter alot and order food.
It was love at first sight. She was amazing. Long and soft light brown hair. Very small frame. Pale skin and her body was just beautiful. Her eyes were bright and soft and she was a picture of love. I used to talk with her while she sat at the counter. She would always tell me her problems and I would give her free soda's and stuff.
I would sell her cigaretts even though she was underage. I didn't smoke, so the cigaretts weren't an attraction for me. She was so beautiful that I was scared to even talk to her most of the time. One time she came in with a friend of mine.
By keimosobie
I have to tell you what did happen to me, even though its difficult to tell;
when I went to advanced individual training (AIT) after basic training.
Fort Lee Virginia was a nice fort in Virginia. I was stationed there to learn how
to be a Petroleum Supply Specialist. I must say they gave me a top notch training.
I made some friends. I guess I told you I was attractive to homosexuals and well I made
two friends who turned out to be Gay. I was suspicious at first because Hardy and Kevin
started spending time alone together in Kevin's room.
Kevin was an average looking black male who was very well built and like a super black belt. I saw him fight one time with another guy in our unit who was a black belt as well. It was not a no wholes bared fight. They each fought with great skill. It was impressive to watch. They both fought equally for a minute or two but Kevin finally defeated him without actually hurting him. He did a move where he landed on his back and snapped a kick that just stopped short of the other guys groin and he held it there just to show him that he could have stopped the fight right then but chose discretion. Anyway he was strong and talented.
I used to wrestle in H.S. so I got into it with him just play fighting and he was strong but he usually just gave up trying to man handle me. We would both be exhausted and a couple of times he got angry because he couldn't dominate me. I was a good 60 to 70 lbs. less than him but I was a fierce wrestler. But there was a dynamic I did not fully understand and that was that he was gay. He was frustrating himself because I am not gay. Anyway he always had more money than I because I would send money home so I could have money when I left the Army. Because he was attracted to me he used to invite me to go on trips with him and I never had enough money so he would end up covering the cost of things that I couldn't.
I didn't know why he was being so nice. I thought it was because we were friends. I was a bit niave and thought it was just our good friendship. Well I had heard from a few people that he was a Gay and I thought, "well thats okay i gues I don't judge as long as he doesent try anything on me" , but he never admitted that he was gay to me even after I told him I was okay with it. One time when we got back from the club I told him I needed a shower and in the Army barracks they have open showers. So I went in the shower and he soon followed. He was watching me shower and I could see he was starting to get aroused so I was weirded out and left and just put it out of my mind.
So I had a pretty good idea he was gay at that point. I probably should have ended our friendship , but I failed to realize how his being gay would effect our friendship. I felt that he was my friend and he was good to me. Always helping me pay for stuff and buying me drinks and I was so... broke. Well we started to fight and argue a lot he started getting angry I guess he was a little frustrated.
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