Why I Am So Warped Part I

Born on the 18th day of April I was the second of what would be three boys. My older brother was now 18 months when I dropped in to say hello. My parents had no idea what they were getting ahold of which is more than an understatement. My father was a working man and supported the family well. My mother stayed home with us most of our childhood which explains her brain damage. Soon I will explain how an innocent and wonderful little boy became the warped and cynical man that writes today. My hope is that you will enjoy, relate, and thank God you were not related.

Easter Sunday 1973 my parents are ready to head off to the church to meet up with my grandparents for the big Easter Service. I had other plans obviously. As I have no real recollection of this I have to go by the obviously embellished accounts of my mother. I had gotten up early that morning and was rather cranky to begin with. After making sure that everyone was ready to go I took the opportunity to show my displeasure for the choice of clothing my mother had forced me into. I began the first of my well documented temper tantrums during which I threw myself on the ground and immediately fell down the three stairs exiting our house. The result of which would end up cancelling the trip to the church and instead redirect the car to the emergency room where I received five stitches in my chin. I never looked back. This began my journey into being a regular at hospitals, doctors, and eventually therapists.

April of 1974 found the family back in the hospital, but this time for the arrival of my younger brother. The stories would never be complete without telling the tales of hell that my older brother and I put him through. Being a baby around me was apparently not a very good thing. I remember one day Mom had fixed my older brother and I some popcorn and had brought my younger brother in the room in his little chair to sit with us. After a time Mom returned and to her horror found my younger brother with cheeks stuffed full of popcorn. My mother yelled at me not to feed him the popcorn to which I replied "but mom look he likes it." After a time she had finally removed all of the popcorn from my younger brothers mouth.

My younger brother threw a fit everytime my Mother would try to have his picture taken. A neighbor was getting into photography and had a little studio set up so he invited them over for a photo shoot. It was the first time that my brother actually had his picture taken without crying (maybe the last time too). As real families do the picture was framed and hung on the wall. After a time it was taken down and sat on a desk. I being the caring person I have always been overheard my Mother commenting on how my brother didn't have any hair yet. I decided that he should have some hair and so using the most of my artistic ability I took a black pen and drew hair on the only color portrait that ever existed of my younger brother. He still loves me to this day for the support, or maybe not. I got a good spanking (parents really did that back then) and was told never to draw on anything ever again. I was never really strong willed enough to ignore my parents admonishments, or was I.