Earliest memories are of living in a very small house with my mom, dad and an older brother who was 14 when I was born. I must have been about three or so at the time. For some reason, I was drawn to this older brother, and as I reflect back it may be that he was the calmer of the two people who seemed to be in charge of me -- my mom and this older brother. My dad was in poor health from about the time I was two so he took little part in the day-to-day activities other than making a good faith effort to go to work and come home every day.
It's funny I now look back on this older brother as a sort of protector. That isn't to say he wasn't the brunt of our mother's temper -- he was from time to time. I wish I had known then what I know now about my mom because it would have made life so much easier growing up. But then we aren't supposed to know everything when we're 3 or 4 or 30 or even 50, as you'll see as my story unfolds.
|Mom, me and baby brother|
I hope you'll come back and read more later . . . maybe our stories will overlap. Maybe they won't. But I'd love to share mine with you just in case it should help.