The experts tells me it is not a good idea to blog about yourself, regardless I am going to swim against the tide. My goal is to expose my life to the world, in an attempt to have some impact on a young life.If you are travelling the straight and narrow, all I can do for you is to encourage you to stay the course. If you are deviating, wavering or you have lost your way, take a look at my life and my past. I believe that if you have lived long enough to grow old, and you have nothing to offer in the way of learning and teaching. Then you have only existed, and the time spent was meaningless and unfulfilling.
Story told I was two years old in the care of a babysitter who neglected her job. There was a party at my home, the sitter left me alone in my room and joined the party. A trait that I have possessed most of my life, being in the wrong place doing the wrong things, got me in trouble on this fateful night. I slipped out of my room undetected, worked the living room floor like a thirsty hobo drinking from every
unattended glass in in the room. Staggered back to my room, crawled under the bed where they found me in a convulsion seizure. Guilt ridden and panic stricken my mother threw me over her shoulder and tried to run seven miles to the hospital in an effort to save my life. A good Samaritan drove by and got me to the hospital in time. I drank enough alcohol to put a horse in a coma. The Doctors pumped my stomach and saved my life. A year later I must have had an insatiable thirst, I drank the turpentine the painter used to clean his paint brushes. Deja vu running me to the hospital to get my stomach pumped, once again dodging the bullet. You would think by now my mother would have a cow bell around my neck. at four another paint situation this time ether the same ingredient to process coke that kills its users with cancer, no wonder I never had the taste for the stuff. After all these runs to the E.R. its a wonder I have any intestine left. You would think that I would be brain dead by now. Maybe so because at six mother was cooking and I had to know what was in the pot pulling the scalding water over fifty percent of my body. The third degree scars have totally disappeared over the years one more thing to give God thanks for.
You would think that after such a harried past that I would learn to stay away from trouble. Not so at ten I was caught stealing change from a church brother’s cash register he beat me with a rope that could tie down the Titanic almost in a state of unconsciousness , where was his Christian charity dealing with a maligned child. I must have been deaf dumb and blind not seeing the light travelling to the beat of the drum to destruction, and too dumb to change course. At eleven years old hopping a ride from a horse drawn carriage I fell under the four foot wheel, I managed to lift the wheel with the force of an angel in time to prevent crushing my pelvis and intestine. People who witnessed the near death disaster ran to my house and told my mother that I was dead. When I entered the yard the poor woman fainted, rose and gave me a well deserved whipping. Short time later still working on an early grave, playing at the crest of a hundred and fifty yard cliff, slipped and fell rolled all the way to the bottom, beaten up by every tree and rock on the way down. Got up and walked away with scratches and a bruised pride. Walked home in a tattered state to another well deserved beating, never occurred to ma that she could not beat the Devil out of me ,only God could. By now I had stop counting
how many lives this cat had. One sunny day I saw a garbage truck travelling at a slow enough pace for me to chase and hop a ride. The mean spirited driver saw me, took a wide turn and abruptly hit the breaks. I rolled on the black top like a bowling ball, those scars remained. At fourteen I got molested by a teacher who tried to rape me. what he did not know was that he was dealing with an up and coming street fighter from hell. I nailed him in the eye with a Bruce Lee rabbit punch partially closed fist almost rupturing the eye. With a feeling of satisfaction I put down serrated steak knife that could have gotten me twenty five to life. Right after that incident with Teachie, the name he was called by his brothers who brought me to the wolf and themselves also molested at will. A young thug a year or more older than I was an up and coming little bad man herd of my fighting skills and wanted to test me. the boy was skilled at the art of street fighting he beat me senseless. I recoiled and retreated , found a stick and brutalized him. Only to find out that his two older brothers were gun men gunning for me . They met their death execution style by rival gun men. It was at this point in my life that I decided that I did not want to be a bad man, and that I had lived a dove long enough in such short years, and that I wanted to see fifteen.