My Life.. Early Years

What do people want to know about me?  Sure as hell perplexes me to no end.  I don’t think myself special in any real way I have some unusual thoughts, ideas and ideals than most of the world at large.  I am a liberal socially and beyond doubt.  For me freedom is what we make it not what someone is willing to give us.  We find our own wings, and if they do not fit int he contours of society then well there is another thermal just over the horizon. 

Me, well as it is coming up on the big #@ I do need to take a little time and reflect on who I am where I am going and where I want to be in the near-ish future. 

I was born in Georgia, my parents had been married a couple of years and had been trying for a family during the time I was conceived.  Now, sounds strange as my father had surgery on his stomach, a mesh plate of sorts was placed on the outside of the stomach and in subsequent years it had failed and was resting on the vas differns.   So, need I say that I was a surprise beyond surprises.  When Mother announced her pregnancy Dadoo threw out the pills to dissolve the mesh.. its still in there.

I was born in GA but my only memory of it was when my folks had some financial difficulty and the car was repossessed.  I can even describe the men, which mother thinks is amazing since I was under age 2 set at the time. 

So, I was raised in West Virginia for my formative years, until the age of 6 I had never seen a skyscraper and met maybe a handful of people who didn’t look like me (in other words, Black, Asian and Hispanic).  I was taught respect, self reliance and the art of hard work.  The southwest portion of WV  is rampant with poverty, and not always the fault of the people there.  I will admit it becomes an addiction to get on welfare and stay since when you have a job it pays lower than most places, barely over minimum wage, if you are not int he coal mines or with the coal companies.  If you can make a better living with handouts, why not? 

I was not respected in WV, I came from the wrong side of the tracks (well the creek in my case) and being as passive as I was it was clear that I was a good target for abuse.  My own cousin tried to murder me on three separate occasions.   The worst, although because it would not have looked like an accident was when there was a lawn dart hurled my way.. it stuck in my cheek, I had that scar for years but it has finally disappeared.   I only tolerate that cousin now and she once tried to apologize to which I refused to accept.  She blamed it on pressure from my aunt and uncle and pent up aggression since she wanted to move.  Never did she blame herself, it was the things, attitudes around her.  She never stated "I am sorry for the pain I cause you" .   My other cousins admired her (being Ms. Hart and Ms. Chapmanville) and followed suit, same with the kids at school.

I admit that I was my Papaw’s favorite, mainly because I would sit on his lap for hours and listen to him.  He was special, a man that to this days holds no other place.  When he passed at the age of 6, both Mother and I were devastated.  He died of a heart attack at the age of 52.  Black lung had another victim to add to its ranks. 

When Papaw died my Uncle Rush moved to help heal my heart, he became another grandfather to me.  I was never afraid of him, as throat cancer had taken his vocal cords early in life.  I admit many times it was hard to understand him.  He was much like me not easily aware of how to express feelings except through actions.  I learned at his knee about that kind of devotion.  I was named after his son, Koblentz Kiska, who died at the age of three in the creek.  Dadoo was close to Kiska and therefore I share part of his name.  But Uncle Rush was my patron, my cheerleader and consumate ear. 

The land grows on you, you learn to live from it.  We always had a garden, traded many times for venison and to this day I can go into the woods and make my dinner.  Natural remedies are prized as is the ginsang that grows wild and the molly moochers that are sold to fancy restaurants.  We made our own way. 

Dadoo never let us get trapped into the welfare cycle, yes I lived many years on welfare but Dadoo tried to find work that would support his family.  Hark work and tenacity are the better ways.  When I was 10 we moved to GA where my countrified ways were an annomoly (sp) and brought down the thunder, in spades from the abuse I took from kids in WV.  I have survived but have the scars to prove it. 

NExt time we will have the teen years.. yay.. really.  I am leaving out a lot but I will detail those things later as well.