How long does the shit show go on?

 I want anyone who reads these to understand a few things.  One, I know I am fortunate in many ways. I went through hell as a kid.  You will read about my life and likely cringe at some of the things I and my siblings went through. With that, I know am fortunate. I have been able to heal from the shit show of my childhood. Through treatment for a substance use disorder, massive amounts of counseling to help with depression, anxiety, grief/loss, and PTSD,  and having resources to help through having access in my early days of recovery  to housing, an education, and, employment opportunities. Along the way I have been able to learn about taking care of myself through paying attention to exercise and what I put in my body, I have a life today I never would have imagined not so long ago. There is much more that has helped become the man I am to this very day. I KNOW I am fortunate.  I say that because I know many who are not.  I have thought all to many times through the last year how the pandemic has only made worse what was a crisis pre-pandemic in the area of overdoses due to substance use disorders. Those who know me it IS my mission to do all I can to help others find their path to healing. Why?  Because I know I am fortunate to have the life I have and I want that same thing for others. 

Now, yesterday I was talking about life at the Ocean. It's interesting thinking about it with the memories I have. I mean, really, in some ways, they are good memories. Being a young child and having lot's of freedom wasn't all bad. All of us kids roamed around Ocean Shores at will.  With mom doing her thing in her life, parenting for her I think, was really second to working and trying to find a man that was worth a shit. Mom's picker was broken. She did not have much success finding man that wouldn't abuse her or abuse us in some way shape or form.

Keep in mind we are talking about the mid 70's. I say that because mom was bucking what many thought a woman should be doing. It was still an era where divorce to many was not acceptable.  I know my mom was viewed as the outcast by her father. Even with him having divorced himself even earlier than she did.  Our family as a whole has bucked many trends during time periods where these things weren't acceptable. I know my mom always wanted to gain acceptance from her father, but, I am not sure she ever got it. 

So, we stayed at the Ocean for those two are three years. Pretty much as I described....Mom worked, mostly nights, late nights.  I don't remember us kids having a babysitter. I remember my brother Bob being our babysitter.  Mind you, a teenager who loved being, well, a teenager with very little quality parenting at all. I know my brother witnessed more than any of us as far as how mom was treated by the men she would bring into our worlds in the wee hours of the morning. 

At the Ocean, in just a two or three year period we lived at four different places....that I remember. Moving, well, it's what we did. 

From the Ocean I we moved back to Tacoma I think. Somewhere in this time period, and I think it wasn't to long after living at the Ocean, we living in Portland. Short period of time.  Mom had met a man, and from what I have heard my siblings say, and my tiny bit of memory during this time, he was a good one.  He was a police officer, he bought us ice cream and took us to the movies. I wish I remembered more, but, that's really it.  Short lived for mom......my educated guess, him being a good one, is mom didn't know how to handle it. I am honestly not sure.  

When we would move around, we would tend to always end up back in Tacoma. My brother Bob was born in California.  Mom's first marriage in 1960'ish was to Gerry Emmerson.  He was in the Marines and they lived in California on a Marine base.  Not sure how long they were there...and I don't thing they were together to awfully long.  You will hear Gerry's name come up for a bit.  He was one that mom tried multiple times to make it work, but, it never did. Alcohol, domestic violence, sexual abuse.....none of it makes for a good marriage. 

My sister Tina was born in 1963. For years, I mean literally, until just before our mothers death, we all believed Gerry was her biological father.  He is not. We had some suspicions along the way about this, and they were confirmed by mom.  Some guy, likely a dad of the week, named Kenny Rogers, might be her biological father. 

Cheri was born in 1965 in Tacoma. Her's and my biological father are the same, Danny Douglas.  Mom was married to him between '64/65-about the end of '67.  I am guessing mom met him at either a restaurant or bar like most of them. We moved to Alaska when mom married Danny. He was a cook and must have had some reason to move up there.

I was born in June of '67 in Cordova, Alaska. I remember none of this time period being just a baby.  Mom ran from him when I was about six months old after what I am sure was another drunken fight. This time he put a gun to her head.  From what I am told, her ex, Gerry Emmerson, came and rescued her from that incident.  Kinda weird isn't it?  A guy her abused the shit out of her and us, comes and rescues her from another guy who did the same shit. Not really I guess if you think about it.  Anyway, from what I am told we moved to Alaska when mom was with Danny.  I have four half brothers from his side of the family.  My brother Bob has memories from that time period.  None of them good. None.  

Oh yes, another joyous experience for mom.  In Alaska, we lived above a restaurant that Danny was either working at or managed...who knows.  But that was the environment.  We left there in the middle of the night due to a fire......that Danny set. Yup, mom lived quite the life. And that wasn't when she left him, it was only when he put a gun to her head that she said I am out. 

Now, back to after we left Ocean Shores....and from my memory a short stint in Portland with a man mom was with that bought us ice cream and took us to the movies. You might ask how do you remember the movies? I remember he owned an El Camino, we went to a drive-in movie, to see........Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  I am not kidding....I couldn't have been more than 8 at this point.  My mom, in her best decision making, thought it was fine to take her kids to see a horror flick.  If you know the movie I know you are shaking your head at that one.  But, hey, at least we were some semblance of a family right?  Mom had a nice guy, we were all together, and things were good right?  I am seriously laughing at this one. I am telling you, this shit was normal. This, in fact, were the good times. 

I don't think we were in Portland for more than a year.....I just don't. We ended up back in Tacoma, and, if memory serves me right, mom gave Gerry Emmerson one more try. We lived in house off of 12th street in Tacoma.  I remember going to Franklin Elementary, I distinctly remember the house, and I remember a Christmas there.  

I remember because one, it was a Christmas where we had presents under a tree. This was not a normal thing for us.  Remember, for a lot of our childhood we were on the move.  Moves for us were usually sudden, and almost always were because of mom going through yet another break up, or mom not being able to pay rent and us being evicted.  That, for us, was normal.   So this Christmas, mom was back with Gerry, we had a tree, and, there were presents under it. We each snuck into a wrapped present, under the supervision of my brother Bob, while Mom and Gerry were gone. Well, the one I opened had a really cool STP Car in it.  We played with it, and, broke it! So, what was our best idea on how to deal with that one, Bob threw it in the woods in the back our house. So, Christmas day, we opened presents and mom was baffled......but, guess what, no problem here.  I was the youngest of four and my siblings were happy to point all fingers directly at me for what happened.  Thanks siblings!

Another memory about that particular Christmas was with our dog Bruno.  Gerry wanted the Christmas tree put in the front window of the house.  What I am told is mom tried to say not to put it there, that was Bruno's window.  But, Gerry didn't care, and the tree was put right in front of the window Bruno always looked out.  Keep in mind Bruno was a big dog...like, great dane size but thicker.  We all came home one day and the tree was down.  I witnessed Gerry pick bruno up and throw him against a wall.  I only witnessed Gerry's physical violence a couple times (that my memory let's me know about), and this is one of them. It made littles sense to me why he did that to our dog. 

My fingers are tired.  Tomorrow I will take up where I leave off here.......mom left Gerry not long after that; again.  We move, again, but stay in the Tacoma area until mom's next marriage that takes us to Arizona. 

Circa 1971'ish