9. Happy Birthday Honey.

     Paul's parents lived in the same small town we did. They had us over for the holidays and were usually very pleasant. I remember one time my older brother Edmond and I were downstairs at their house playing ping pong. It was cool getting to go there and play on their table. We barely had a table for eating on, they had one just for a game. Paul's dad came down the stairs and looked at my older brother Edmond and I asking. "Would you guys like to plant your own garden?" We both said "sure."  He walked through the room to his office and was gone for a while. Edmond and I thought the question was odd but we were open to the idea of one day planting our own garden. About 15 minutes later Paul's dad came back in yelling at us that he had the stuff ready for us to do the garden and he was waiting for us. Edmond and I looked at each other confused about what he meant. We had thought it was a rhetorical question not an offer to do some gardening right now. We followed him out back where their garden was and he had us start working on it. He tried to sell us the idea that we were going to get some rhubarb crisp for helping plant the garden. That us getting to eat some of the food and putting our work into this garden would make it our garden. It was not uncommon for my mom to lend us to friends of hers that were moving or needed fire wood cut. Sometimes we would get 5 bucks for the full days work. We knew they just wanted us to do their work for them, even if they didn't put it so bluntly. I was a little insulted that he thought that would work on me. I wasn't surprised. This was the guy who promised to teach me to fly fish, then when we got out there he said we had some trees to plant first and when the work was done I would get to fish. I planted pine trees for 6 hours before it got too dark and we had to head home without fishing. That happened three times before I ever got to fish. He had started his own lumber business with his own last name on it. I knew he was a hard worker and wanted to teach me structure and discipline. The problem was, working for free is dumb and that is no way to make a living. I knew that at 11.

      Before my mom knew about Paul being abusive there were problems in their relationship. Money was always tight and Paul was never able to keep a job. He was a truck driver and from what I heard he was bad for trucks. He would take off for days at a time to cool off. Recently while discussing the abuse with Edmond he told me about Paul and mom going in their room and locking the door. Then we would hear mom saying "no" and "stop," then hear her crying. I had not remembered this. It is strange how well I pushed that out of my mind. As soon as Edmond started talking about it I could hear my mom's voice and remembered it clearly. My mom got pregnant with Paul's second child. My mom wasn't taking care of herself like she should and was having issues with her gestational diabetes. She had no energy and was resting or gone most the time. So, while my mom was pregnant we were free range kids. I was trying to stay out of the house to avoid the abuse. Edmond was learning to play guitar or playing video games in his room. Alex and Rich Were either watching cartoons or playing in the back yard, probably with the burn barrel. Alex liked to play with fire. I know he set at least one bed on fire.

     December 26, 1992 my little brother was born. You could feel something in the air, life was just charged. We went to Shelton for New Year's and to show the baby to the grandparents. We also got to go over to some family friend's house. We went home late that night. Mom still seemed wiped out the next day and stayed in bed. We had all helped taking care of the younger brothers. I got a bottle for the baby around 10p.m. Early the next morning my little brother breathed out and just didn't breathe back in. He died 8 hours shy of a week old. He passed away from S.I.D.S. My older brother called 911 because of the baby, but mom was unresponsive also. I don't know if Paul was gone for work or if he was just gone but he was not there. Instead, we as kids were trying to deal with the situation. When the paramedics showed up they were trying to get my mom to wake up. They said her blood sugar was off and they needed to take her to the ER. So the paramedics left Edmond, Alex, Rich and I with the baby while they took mom to the hospital. Another ambulance was sent out. Edmond was 15 and to deal with that like he did was impressive. He did have lots of practice at dealing with bad situations. Before mom and Paul were married, mom went out one Friday night and we were being loud so the neighbor called the cops. When the cops showed up at 3a.m. Alex was crying and with no mom to be found we went to a foster home for a week. They had goats and cots for us to sleep on. We kind of figured that was going to happen again since Paul was not there. Edmond kept an eye on us that night and mom was home the next day. For the next few nights I woke up thinking I had heard crying and would go make a bottle and put it in the crib. I am not sure if I was thinking about it and dreaming about it or if it was my mind trying to deal with the stress.

(My brother & my wife's grandma both passed away on January 2, 1992. That is also her birthday.)

     Most of my mom's friends were from AA so I can't tell you who they are... There were several of her close friends that were Native American. My mom always loved spiritual things. She reached out to those friends and invited everyone to the funeral. It was an open casket and people started putting feathers and dream catchers in with the baby. It was a bit odd to me since we had been raised "holiday attending" Christian but I knew mom loved the support. It was nice to see people cared.
    

8. Artie chokes two for a dollar.

     My mom and Paul were in AA. They would go to meetings and be gone anywhere from a couple hours to 6. On one of these nights we had artichokes for dinner and my mom asked if I could heat one up for my younger brother Alex. I put the butter in a pan and put it on the stove to melt for dipping. I want to say I was 10 at the time, I could have been 11. We both had a bowl of cereal while we waited for everything to heat up. Alex and I sat in the living room watching M.A.S.H. When I was done with my cereal I asked Alex to take my bowl out to the kitchen. We sat and watched the rest of the episode. After the show I went to the bathroom and while I was in there Paul and my mom got home. Paul went into the kitchen where there was a pan boiling with a bowl sitting on top of it. Alex had set the bowl on top of the butter pan. When Paul lifted the bowl off the pan it combusted. Paul being the genius he was took the pan to the sink and turned the water on full blast. My mom saw what he was doing and she grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed the pan just as the water went on. I was in the living room. I saw the flames rolling across the ceiling. The front door was still open from them walking in. The flames traveled from the sink up along the ceiling through the dining room across the living room and out the front door. It was just a 5 second flash but it left lines all along the ceiling. My mom probably saved Paul's life. The butter splattered from the water and got his hand really bad. There were also some burns on his neck and face. I was sure I was going to get it pretty bad for this. I was worried if he was ok and I wanted to tell what happened but I needed to get away.

     I went to bed that night while Paul was still at the hospital. When I woke up the next morning I got dressed and left the house as fast as I could. I rode my bike up to the park. I played for a few hours mostly on the swings. The swing had a hard blue plastic seat. It was fun to stand on the seat and swing standing up. I would jump out of the seat when I was sitting down trying to see how much distance I could get. There were a few trails around that had jumps. I would ride in circles around the neighborhood or I would ride to the school looking for someone to play with. I had gotten good at staying away from the house. I tried to avoid the main roads. I wanted to give Paul some time to calm down. I avoided him for a few days. When I saw him at the house I made sure to stay in whatever room my mom was in or I stayed away from him. I had a fear of being alone with him.

     He and my mom were going to a meeting and told me to be home at 6. I took off on my bike and went to the park to keep an eye out for them. Around 6:30 I saw our baby blue Ford LTD drive past and mom wasn't in the car. It was not too uncommon for mom to stay out with friends from AA. I stayed a block from the house and Paul came back out of the house. He was looking for me. I turned and headed down the road but he saw me. He jumped in the car and came flying down the road after me. All I could think of was Gus. I thought he was going to hit me with the car the way he did my dog. He pulled up ahead of me and jumped out of the car and stopped me. The way he came rushing up made me tense up in preparation of getting hit. He saw how afraid I was and stopped about a foot away. His demeanor changed. He told me my mom wanted him to pick me up, we were going to go out to dinner. His left hand, nose and forehead were bandaged with gauze. He told me to leave my bike there we would pick it up when we got back so I put it on the other side of the ditch in the bushes. When I was crossing back across the ditch he asked me why I set the fire. I told him I was heating up the butter and Alex put the bowl on top of it. I was opening the door to the car as I answered. Paul punched me in the back of my head with his good hand and I fell against the car. Paul started yelling at me not to try and put the blame on Alex. He started kicking me and stomping on my legs. I started crying and he stopped. He had been steadying himself with his right hand on the open door as he kicked me, when he stopped he slammed the door on me. He went and got in the car and headed back to the house. I got my bike and headed home.

     When I got home I got ready for dinner and went and sat in the car. Paul didn't say another word to me that night. The next day my elbow was swollen and had some bruising. I told my mom I fell skateboarding in the garage. It was something we all did, we all lied about things and covered them up so mom could be happy. We remember how bad she got when my dad left. She took me to the hospital and at the hospital when the doctor asked how it had happened I told him. My mom just looked at me. The doctor had me lift my shirt and there were bruises all across my back and on my legs. The doctor turned to look at my mom and she kind of shrugged, after an awkward pause she said "Oh... Leonard, I am so sorry I had no idea." The doctor shook his head and walked out of the room. My mom followed him and stopped him in the hall to talk. He laid into her pretty good. I heard him ask how she could not know. She convinced the doctor this was the first time and that she was going to leave Paul. The doctor let us all go home but he did report it to the police. After that the state was much more involved in our lives. We had been to foster homes a couple times but now there were monthly check ups. It seems like that should have been a good thing that helped... It wasn't.

7. Alone in the garage.

It was not a big surprise to come home to an empty house. There was almost always a way to get into the house. Worst case you have to hang out in the garage. I remember one time I got off the bus coming home from school and the house was all locked up. It started poring rain and I had not brought a coat to school. I was 11 at the time. The garage door was broken and I could squeeze under the gap from the bent track. I needed to change my clothes. I went through the old clothes we had in the garage and found an old dress shirt from my older brother and some purple sweat pants of my mom's. It was the first of the month so I knew they went to Olympia to do shopping. It was 3:00 when I got home. I was hungry then. I wasn't what you would call responsible. I loved playing basketball. I would often skip eating lunch so I could head out to the playground. There was a 6ft rim so we played knock out from the far end of the shed. The trick was to throw it off the brick wall behind the basket run up and dunk it. If you went for the shot you could make it but you were more likely to hit the rim and shoot out into the playground. I started playing this game when I was 7. When I started dunking I would run up, step off the brick wall to jump up, and dunk. It usually was no big deal to miss lunch even if I hadn't had breakfast...which I hadn't because I woke up late for school. (Very common occurrence.) Today though I was stuck in the garage. I was still a bit cold and wanted to see what was in the attic. I climbed the 2x4's nailed to the garage wall and lifted up the wood board that covered the entrance. I found some old curtains, a few pieces of rope, and some old stuff that had been our dad's. After crawling around up there for about a half hour I took the rope and tied it to my waist then tied it to the rafters. I climbed about half way back down and put some weight on the rope. I had made enough rope swings that I knew it was solid. I jumped out from the wall almost in a belly flop pose. I went out and hit the end of the rope. My head dropped and my feet went straight up in the air. I was now dangling upside down from a rope tied to the rafters. My hands could barely touch the floor and I kept bumping into the wall whenever I tried to right myself. It was probably only a couple minutes but it felt like 30. I finally got my hand on one of the 2x4's and was able to pull my head up. I got rope burns all around my ribs and waist, which made the hunger seem that much worse. I grabbed the curtains and wrapped up on top of a pile of dirty towels to get something between me and the cement floor. It only took a second on the pile to pick up the strong scent of cat pee and I was laying in it. Honestly, I was kind of used to the smell. An hour or so later Paul, my mom, and my brothers all got home with a trunk full of groceries. My mom made me a peanut butter and jelly to hold me over for dinner. It was 8:30 when they got home we had dinner at 9. I don't remember what dinner was but I remember the peanut butter and jelly... My mom made the best pb&j's.

6. Get the turkey leg.

When I was 9 we lived in a sub division in Shelton that had a creek running through it. We would swim in it in the summer. Where it went under the road there were two large culverts. the one on the right had a bee's nest in it and usually more crawdads.  I think that may have been due to less kids playing over there. Money was tight. Paul would drive my mom to the food bank so we could get food for the month and he would sit in the car and wait. So I would come along to help carry boxes out to the car. I remember them giving us the option of a turkey leg or a little ham loaf. We had 4 or 5 of the little hams in the freezer and so mom went with the turkey leg. I joked around that maybe my dog spike could have the bone after we ate it. Spike was a black lab mix that had been an abandoned dog when he was a puppy. It wasn't the more modern style of going to the pound and saving a dog from the needle. He just roamed our neighborhood and you could tell he wasn't being fed. He was a great dog and crazy smart if we left him in the house while we were gone he would open the front door and let himself out. That is with a round knob not the lever handle style. Granted his manners were lacking he always just left the door open. One day spike and I were playing down at the creek when he started chasing crawdads and I noticed there where a ton. I ran home to try and figure a way to trap them. I knew I needed to keep them alive until I got them home so I grabbed a bucket. I also knew I needed bait so I grabbed the turkey leg out of the freezer. I ran the two blocks back down to the creek and went over by the right culvert. I put some water in the bucket and sat down in the water. I sat there holding the turkey leg in the water. Slowly from all around me crawdads started coming out of their hiding places. I would wait until I got a few on the leg then I would pick it up over the bucket and shake them off. After an hour or so I had around 60 and most of a turkey leg that I refroze to use again next time. I enjoyed getting to put dinner on the table. Getting to play in the woods and swim in the creek was a big part of my youth. It was where I went to get away. I often made forts because I wanted somewhere safe to go. I wanted my own space.

When I was 11 Paul was coming to pick me up from school. He told me he wanted to bring Spike to pick me up and he stopped on the side of the road because Spike was acting like he had to pee. Spike took off and would not get back in the car. I am not sure if that is true I just know Spike was the best dog ever. My mom felt bad so she talked to some friends to try and find me a dog. She found a dog that was full blooded and already well trained that some people were trying to get rid of due to a move. She went and picked him up while I was at school. He was a cocker spaniel. He didn't like to play fetch and he looked like a girls dog. I was not a big fan of him but it was better than nothing. I didn't take him out with me at first because I kept having to call him if he ran off and he wasn't trained like Spike was. I took him down to the creek because I wanted to swim and maybe I could work on fetch with him. I named him Gus to have a boys name. I guess at the time that was the manliest name I could think of. Gus jumped in the water and swam like crazy. He loved the water and was really fun to play with. We spent the next 4 days swimming in the creek. He was getting to be a good dog. A few days later I was walking home from the creek with Gus. Paul was driving home. He saw us walking and whistled to say hi... (at lest that's what he said). Gus ran out into the road in front of the car and Paul ran him over in front of me. They got me another dog and they named him Toby. He was a beautiful dog. He was a husky, lab, St. Bernard mix. I asked for them to take him back. I didn't want another dog to die.

5. Don't hit.

After my dad left my Mom followed some friend of hers to Shelton. My mom wanted to meet a guy so she started going out to the bars on Friday nights, sometimes Saturdays too. She started dating a guy named Paul. He had served in the military and was working on becoming a truck driver. Money had been an issue with our family. We lived off food stamps and some help from family and friends. So mom was excited to have a man in her life that would support the family. They got married soon after. Paul wanted us to be disciplined. He would get frustrated when I fought with my brothers or didn't do something the first time he asked. It started out with jabs, he would take two fingers and while he would be telling us to be quiet or go outside he would strike two or three times on my sternum or my side. The longer he and my mom were together the more comfortable he got hitting me. Jabs became arm locks or back hands. Paul was sneaky about the abuse. He knew my mom had been beaten as a child and that she would not put up with it. I also think my mom was stupid about it. She would often come into the room while I was on the floor crying and she would ask what happened and he would say "oh nothing" and that was enough of an answer for her. My mom got very depressed when my dad left and her boys all saw that. So we didn't say anything to her about it. We didn't want it to be our fault if he left.

My mom only ever hit me twice in her life once was a spank when I was around six. The other was when I was fourteen, but to be fair she thought I was a home intruder. (I was coming home late and she didn't know I was out.) I often keep small bits of my sanity by looking at her life and thinking to myself, well at least I didn't have it that bad. My mom's parents separated when she was young. Her Dad took off and she was left with her mom. Her mom who at one point in time broke a fire place poker over my mom's back and threw a coffee cup at my mom's face. My mom lived the rest of her life with a piece of glass embedded just under her eye. My mom wanted to escape the abuse and she asked her dad if she could come live with him and they agreed it was best to wait until the end of the school year. She waited 3 months, then two weeks from the end of the school year he took his own life. Where I am standing now I see the parallels in my life but I know it does not control my future. I am my actions, not the mistakes of my parents or abusers.