1966-1970

I often find myself looking to my past searching for answers to all the problems I have as an adult. I just couldn't wait to "grow up" so that I could be strong and independent and I would have a perfect life. I used to imagine how fun it would be to go to work everyday and to start dating someone like Ken...you know, Barbie's boyfriend? Yep, I was always into dolls and enjoyed dressing them up. Obviously my mother never bought me one, but I always found a way to get my hands on my sister's Barbie dolls. Her life seemed perfect...perfect face, perfect skin, perfect body and a perfect boyfriend. A life filled with laughter, love and bliss.

Well I obviously had to be born into this world first. So I was and from what my mother and relatives told me, I was born with a defective heart and weak lungs. It remember being in the hospital a lot and I have memories of staring up at the gray ceiling in my hospital bed all alone. I also remember having to take a lot of medication and my grandmother trying to stuff pills down my throat. What else do I remember about the five years of my life? Not much really.

My mother was usually stressed out. My father was never around. My sister was just weird and thought of her as more of a monkey rather than a human being. I remember the girl living next door and remember getting my food run over by a car. I also remember my mother putting my put into a bucket of cold water while I bled. I never went to the hospital for it as far as I remember. It healed ok though. I also remember walking hand in hand with my mother down the street, begging her to buy me a bottle of strawberry milk. Yes, they use to sell milk in bottles back then. I remember a pretty older girl teaching me how to gently cup my hands together to catch a butterfly. I tried doing the same thing, instead I clapped my hands together I killed the poor damn thing.

Ahhh...memories of my life in Japan until I was around 5...what else do I see?...

I remember snow...lots of snow....looking out a window I see falling snow. It's beautiful and cold...almost good enough to eat. So I get a small ceramic bowl from the kitchen and hold it out the window...slowly the bowl fills up with the white flakes. They are so light, almost weightless. I see myself just watching the snow falling and falling over and over again. It takes me away from something...I don't know what but it's an escape for me.
Ohhhh...I realize my bowl is filled to its capacity so I decide that should be enough. I tear open a small individual packet of granulated sugar and sprinkle it on top of my home-made snow cone. It's delicious...little did I know it was filled with pollutants and other nasty stuff.

I remember crying a lot and I knew that irked my mother. Later on I found out she would leave me at home while I was asleep to go to work. My father was playing around with other women and gambling away our money. My mother had no choice but to go to work I guess, and she apparently couldn't afford to pay for a babysitter. But I cried and cried until my voice started to crack. I couldn't help it. I knew I was irritating my mother, but I was scared that she would never come home...just like my dad.

One person I truly loved was my grandmother. She seemed to be the only person who could make me feel happy. She always made me special and never treated me like a stupid thing. I can still remember her reading my palms, telling me that I was very special.

My grandma took my right palm into her hands. She was studying the lines with intense seriousness. I almost didn't want to hear what my future held.

'You're a very special boy'
'Why don't I feel special grandma?'
'Don't ever say that because you are. '
'But mommy says that I'm always doing bad things and she's always yelling at me.'
'No matter what other people say, including your mommy, whatever you believe to be right, is usually right. Always believe in yourself and listen to what your heart is telling you. '
'I don't understand grandma.'
'You will one day S, I promise. Never forget that you are special.'
'Ok grandma!'

From that day on, I tried really hard to believe in myself.

Like I said, my father was never around and the male influence was my grandmother's second husband, I used to call him Mr. N. He used to take me to amusement parks and we had so much fun on all the kiddie rides! I remember he took me on my first kiddie roller coaster. I was too short to see the tracks in front of me so I held on for dear life. I was terrified the entire time on the ride but realized that I had survived the ride. So I rode again and again...and again. That became my favorite ride and I had to practically beg Mr N, to take me to the amusement park again. He was a cool guy. He did everything to make me happy. I miss him.