(In mid 1997, I was asked to write up a pair of biographies, with a specific note of No, don't use a word processor, Write them out, and don't edit, just write. Any errors, just cross something out and keep writing . . . .
The following, with occasional parenthetical explanations in brackets, and all but the cross-outs, is the result.)
The male breeder, Bm, is seventy something, so he was born sometime in the mid to late 'twenties. If memory serves, he was born in Indiana, maybe in Illinois. Evidently there was a fair amount of moving about, but evidently everyone settled in Kokomo, about an hour or so north of Indianapolis.
He was one of umpteen kids, most, I think, of whom still live in the area. "Home", I think was always, or often, a farm. What I saw a couple of times was, at least, and I don't know when it became the last stop.
There was something I overheard, or was told, of his leaving there at . . . . 12(?) 13(??) . . . some such age, and wandering around. Evidently he wound up in Oklahoma, at least for awhile. It has been observed that someone of that age doesn't just leave, with that being a strong indication of an abusive background, but A) it was the depression, and B) I don't think anyone else left . . . .
In WWII or so he was in the Marines, but that's all I know. One oddity, of sorts, that popped up was a somewhat offhand comment made once about serving on B52s, or working with, or something. Problem; The B52 is Air Force, and dates from the mid '50s . . . . Marines in or around WWII had nothing to do with B52s . . . .
At some point he wound up in California. Also at some point, he joined the Merchant Marine, working as an engineer, and evidently a mediocre one.
Also at some point he got involved with a local church, the First Presbyterian Church of Berkeley, aka First Pres. That is evidently where he met the female breeder, Bf, and at some point, they got married. Extrapolating from a comment Bm made once of it being three years before me, the wedding would have been '59 or '60 or so.
I was born 11/18/63 at Herrick hospital in Berkeley. I don't know what Bm was doing, but apparently he was around because I have an image memory of watching a Batman cartoon, and the only sequence I can think of involving him at that time.
Given that I could see from one back yard to another, and walk there, I was two or three years old. I remember looking from the back porch across to the back porch of the house behind. The back fence neighbors had an electric car set that they were playing with, and I have general memories of at least one adult with a child of some age.
I went across from one yard to the other, and was playing with them. At some point, Bm came to the back door, saw me, and ordered me back into the house. Once in, as I recall, I was hit, and then my clothes were torn off of me. Bm took a belt and beat me with it, over and over. As I recall, Bf was there as well, and obviously had no objection to this.
The only other image I have of this time is very iffy . . . . One time working with Jenny [a hypnotherapist and occasional colleague of person for whom this was written.]. I got a feeling of the right side of my face tingling, and got a red tinted image of being on a high, narrow, table, and having a man in front of me who was in mid smash, with my head as the target. There was such a high table, I think possibly built to be a changing table, and Bm thinks child abuse is normal.
Right after my 4th birthday, in December or so of '67, we went to Taiwan, by way of Japan and Singapore. As I recall, Bm was doing something in the Merchant Marine in or around Vietnam. Bf has a missionary friend who works in mid-Taiwan by name of Joyce McMillan, so she was going to go there.
Evidently we lived in Singapore for a month. I remember Bm being there for a bit, I remember him not being there. The only main thought of his presence involved a burglary, and he was there as the police toured the house.
In Taiwan, I remember him at times. In Ehrlin, the first place we stayed, near Joyce's polio home, there was a fridge downstairs in the dining area, with housing upstairs. There were candy bars in the freezer, and to get at them, I locked the door to the upstairs. Bm banged on the door, I unlocked it, and he then fed me more candy---at dinner, I threw up.
In Taichung, where I went to kindergarten & first grade, I remember him once, and something about a torn kite, something about his tearing it, or not fixing it, or something.
The only other thought that comes to mind is of a trip to the highlands at some point. On morning I woke up before Bm and Bf and went wandering out to look around the neighborhood of the place where we were staying. Somewhere nearby was a souvenir stand, where I bought a bow and arrow set. When I returned, Bm and Bf were up, an I have a very clear memory of Bm breaking the bow and arrows and shoving them into a garbage can.
We came back from Taiwan in the summer of '71, and moved into an apartment in Oakland, near the Berkeley border. I was enrolled in the local elementary school up the street, Chabot School. Sometime after that, we moved into a house down the street, and stayed there until '77 or so.
I remember Bm being around . . . somewhat. I remember it was at the apartment that he began his program of systematic child abuse, taking me into the back and having me do chin ups. Later at the house, he added more.
One day, while returning home from school to the apartment, I and some people I was with were walking through some bushes, which, I think, we sometimes did. One day Bm saw me, and soon after I got in, he attacked me, tearing my clothes off and beating me with a belt.
Yes, his two favorite addresses involved "raising welts" and "raising a knot on your head".
At some point in this time he got a job with Chevron, working as an oil tanker engineer, again, evidently being rather mediocre at it---what I'm remembering is a comment of "If Chevron calls, I'm not in, (something about only being offered a) job as an oiler."---evidently the bottom rung of the ladder.
I think the job may have begun while we were at the apartment, because there were distinct gaps when I remember him not being around.
Judging from the times, I think that this is when I began to realize that Bm and Bf were my enemies, that I as a human didn't matter, that I was just a lump of flesh that they had bred.
It was intermittent, and only kicked in full time when Bm was around, but it was at the house that the formalized abuse began.
Bm created what he called "my" "routine", the point being, of course, that as child abuse, it was routine only to a sociopath like him, and it sure as fuck wasn't "mine".
This was an ever increasing series of exercises, from pushups to chin-ups to lifting weights, etc. The timing varied, from every other day to every day, the amounts varied, and lasted until some point. I really don't remember when it ended, but I know I was big enough to make it hurt if I hit him back, and that couldn't be chanced.
This ending was sometime after '77, when we moved to James Avenue, about a mile further into Oakland, but of course by that point all traces of humanity had been eradicated, as they intended.
I did my best to avoid this, of course, being both sane and a genius, but Bm would sometimes be around, and after the ship he was working on blew up, he was always around---the ship was in Houston, a lightening bolt ignited fumes, and the ship went down. Rather than rehire an apparent incompetent, Chevron elected to hire someone else, or, at least, not him.
There were a few underlining times in this, times that have underscored his hatred of me and anything I could be. One such was picking him up in Richmond at the Chevron wharf, right after I had seen the movie "Pumping Iron", and had liked it---of course I was seeing just about Anything at that point---all I can remember if any sort of greeting between Bm and I was my offer that I had just seen "Pumping Iron". Bm's immediate snarl in return was that I had better have been doing "my routine".
For awhile in the Chabot house, what Bm had me doing took an hour and forty minutes, and absolutely not one minute less. Given his habit of watching everything I was doing, he was quite aware of the limitations involved. His new layer of focused abuse was to then announce that each night I would finish the whole thing in an hour and thirty minutes or I would immediately do the whole thing all over again. I don't remember how long it lasted, but of course he knew there would be no change.
There was one time I came back to the James house from a late running Scout meeting, and had a mountain of homework that was due in the morning, and was already dead tired already. Bm met me out on the front lawn and immediately ordered me into the garage.
Let'sssss ssseeeeee . . . . .
Beginning at the Chabot house Bm would make me repeatedly write out an empty feelgood type exhortation entitled "Press On". It was a basic "keep going and succeed" proclamation which was absolute bullshit, seeing as Bm had never succeeded in anything other than being a sociopathic asshole, and never would, and anytime I myself attempted anything, Bm, and sometimes Bf, would crush it upon discovery.
I collected comic books, and intend to still do so. One day I came home to find my room destroyed, and my collection shredded.
One day I was reading a Tarzan comic book, and the thought kicked in that where Tarzan and the apes were grunting out phrases, perhaps there was a code, and I would crack that code. This, by the way, could lead to code study, mathematics, language study, etc. I found out later that E. R. Burroughs had indeed developed such a code when he had written the books. Bm saw me starting and announced that I would stop or he would beat me.
Around '75, '76 or so, after the movie Wizards had come out [ 1977, now that I think about it ], I started doing some drawings on a sketchpad I kept under my bed. They were a loose combination of "Wizards" and a comic called "DeadBone" and I would doodle some, and put it away, and doodle some, and put it away, and one day when I pulled the pad out, all the drawings were gone.
At some point at the James house, Bm had me type "A quick brown etc." over and over, stacking the sheets up as I went. I knew by that point that it was constructed to use all the letters in the English alphabet, and as such, his demand of " . . . jumped over the lazy dog" was incorrect, as the correct form was " . . . jumps over the . . ." I was also quickly aware that this was not a typing exercise as I could soon spasm my way through the sentence without practicing a thing related to typing. At least I could make right one thing, and began typing "jumps" instead of "jumped". A few days later, Bm noticed and was enraged at the quite logical change---logical, that is, for a typing exercise.
The whole thing, of course, was not a typing exercise, but had as it's sole purpose my degradation and the wasting of my time.
Jumping back to Chabot . . .
One morning I got up, had breakfast, and as I felt like going to school a little earlier that day, I started off to Chabot. Partway there, Bm caught up to me in the car, ordered me into it, drove me back to the house, where he ordered me to take my clothes off. He then beat me with a belt, ordered me to get dressed, then drove me up to Chabot. I played show and tell with the kids on the playground while waiting for classes to begin.
While we were at Chabot, I would go up to the school to play. Bm's reaction to this was to demand that I first go swinging on the bars a number of times. At least one of the times I remember, I left him at the house, and when I got up to the playground, he had driven up to the playground and had parked by the bars.
One thought that's just come to mind as another typical example of Bm and Bf involved a hamster. At some point, while living at Chabot, a hamster was bought which I took care of. Hamsters being nocturnal, that was about it. I now seem to remember that the contract for the James house specified no pets. As I recall, as we were moving it was announced that the hamster had gotten away during the move and, ultimately, could not be found. Given that I don't remember seeing the cage at all at the James house, I get the impression that they gave the hamster away and---big surprise---lied about it. I don't think I had much of a reaction as A) by that point there was nothing with which to react, and B) the hamster's sole reason for existence was to make me clean the cage. No hamster meant one less thing for me to be ordered to do.
Bm has always fancied himself a great aficionado of the stock market. One of my earliest memories of being back in Berkeley and Oakland after Taiwan is of going to the Great Western building in Berkeley and watching Bm looking a long rolls of, I think, stock quote printouts. Later, there would be Bf looking a the paper at some point and announcing that "your father" had "made money". Later than that, Bm would inflict on me some idiotic stock quotes scam that he subscribed to. How could I tell it was a scam? First, the syntax of the writing was as if it had been translated word for word from, say, Russian. Second, once one struggled to piece complete sentences together, the results were invariably why last month's predictions gone wrong actually weren't a fuckup, and why something should be chosen for the following month, which, inevitably, would do what wasn't predicted.
What I've seen of stocks is to buy and hang on, and in the late '70s and early '80s I looked at the list and said to buy anything computerized, as it would only go up. Bm refused.
When we first lived in Berkeley, Bf owned the house we lived in. A cousin older than I says that when we moved over to Taiwan, Bm made Bf sell it so that he could spend the money on the stock market. Bm and Bf have no money.
After awhile it was decreed that I would go to college for I would get a degree! I now realize that I could have mailed away for a piece of paper on underwater basket weaving, and it wouldn't have mattered. Having a solid, reliable education was not the point.
I went to Merritt College in Oakland for two years, then transferred to S.F. State. The weekend my second semester began, Bf went off to a workshop in L.A. or something. That Thursday night, Bm screamed that if my bedroom door was closed, he would throw my ass out of the house---God forbid that I should have a human being's privacy. The next morning, regardless of my stating that I wanted to be at school early, I was ordered to rearrange my room, or else. I arrived at my first class about halfway through it.
When I graduated from State, it being just an exercise, I was going to go off to a convention rather than bother with the ceremony. Bf insisted that the ceremony had to be attended, so that she and Bm could go. Evidently, as I was lining up with the other graduates, Bm and Bf found seats in the bleachers, and then, before the ceremony began, Bm wandered off.
After the ceremony, I found Bf, and no Bm. We went off to my department's celebration, and no Bm. We checked the bookstore and the library, and no Bm. We went to the car---in the now pouring rain, and no Bm. I tried a hunch, went back to a phone, and, sure enough, when I called the house, Bm answered. When I pointed out that we were expecting to find him with us at State, his reply was either "It's alright." or "I'm alright." I went back to the car and explained to Bf---who hates driving in rain and in S.F., that she was going to be doing both. She nearly burst into tears, I didn't see why---of course she knew Bm was a self centered asshole, what was she complaining about?
Bf knowing of Bm's insanity
Yes, as I continue writing, there's quite a shopping list. I'm not certain how much of Bm is in this, but I'm sure one can find plenty of me . . .
For awhile starting during the time at the Chabot house, I was put into the local Aikido Dojo, again as a place to park me, whether there was a point or otherwise.
One day I was being more of a disturbance than not, and the teacher sat me on the side for awhile. It was reported by a fellow student that Bm had been outside and had looked pissed. His being there made no sense to me as I had forgotten, or was blocking, Bm's fantasy that it was impossible for me to have my own existence.
After class I went home---I'm now remembering that this was on James---which dates things at '77, '78, '79 or so, and two steps through the front door Bm smashed me . . . The most I remember is his initial attack, the initial swing, and maybe I fell down, I don't remember. Bm doesn't just like to hit; he considers it an unquestionable necessity. So, therefore, I was undoubtedly smashed from the front door to the back and into the garage. Given the resulting level of shock, there had to be more than that was done to me as well. All I remember of the time in the garage is one time when I guess I needed to go to the bathroom and went into the house. I think Bf asked me what happened, and I think I told her, and at some point right there I asked what it was I had done for him to hate me. Her response was immediate and the most absolute, damning, blatant lie I have ever heard from anyone in its depth of hate, it's certainly that I am merely an object, that there is no humanity; "Oh he's not doing this because he hates you, he's doing this because he loves you."
I was finally allowed back into the house, by which time I was totally exhausted, and still had at least an hour of homework to do. I collapsed on my bed and pulled out a book to work on. Bf appeared in the doorway and blithely asked if I wanted dinner. I was absolutely too exhausted to respond, and could only try to concentrate on my homework. After repeating the question on or two more times, she left, visibly annoyed that I couldn't even play the game of "this is normal, this is acceptable and necessary.", and, obviously, my not playing was my fault.
While I'm remembering . . . the back bedroom of the James house was mine, and looks out into the backyard and through the garage windows. Bm positioned where his child abuse was to take place so that it could be seen from my bedroom window. After ordering me out into the garage, he would use my bedroom as the monitoring point for his own version of hatred and abuse. Often, as I was obviously still up when I would be ordered out, the light would still be on, often with the shade pulled down. After awhile, as I would look up, the shade would have been pulled up and the light turned off, the better to monitor unseen.
I really can't remember when the tanker blew up, whether it was '74 or '77. After some period of time, by the time I was a Merritt ('82-'83, '83-'84) Bm was working as a janitor at a local movie theatre.
By early '90 I had finally tracked down a steady job and was working in S.F. A friend from college announced that I obviously needed to move in with him---he was tired of musical roommates, and I was working in S.F., soooo . . . within a month, the job had vanished---the company went bankrupt---and a sort of cousin had us both in Berkeley as rent free anchors of a couple of buildings he owned. (Me, he paid $200 a month.)
After several months, I finally nailed down another job, and soon decided that I needed a real computer. When sharing a house with Bm and Bf (Yes, btw, the move in with the friend was the first move out), I ran the early IBM clone that had finally been picked up part-way through college---and only because Bm thought he could run his stock scams with it. After awhile, a "college money" account had been drained for another computer, and I had opted for one of the very early, very limited capacity laptop computers---but I did most of my work on the desktop computer.
I announced that I was going to use money from the house sitting to pay off the computer, if money could be found for the down payment. I was thinking of the "college account" and wasn't certain if anything was left. After awhile, Bf announced that she would cover the whole amount and I could pay her instead.
---a parenthetical note--- No, regarding this buy, or any of the further computer subsidy buys that later occurred, I do not understand why this was done. Bm and Bf have always made it plain that I have never been more than, say, a big dog, and why such an expensive chew toy should been I don't know.
Bm and Bf met me at the store to set up the order. I and the salesman set up the custom buy, the bill was handed off to Bf, and the pickup of the completed computer was set for the following week. The arrangement at that point was that Bm would put up money, Bf would put up money, and Bf would give me a single check made out to the store.
The following weekend, I checked messages from a friend's house, and heard Bf announce that Bm was up to something. When I talked to Bm, he announced that as he wanted to take a road trip east, and as the theatre would not cover vacation time, I had to cover for him at the theatre.
At that point, I . . . damnit, back up. . . March '90, I moved back to Berkeley, getting paid $200 a month to anchor a house. April '90, the S.F. job went bankrupt. June '90, I got the new job. September '90, I lost it when the company belatedly decided that I couldn't type fast enough. April '91 was the Cherry Blossom Festival, during which I found out that Bm had decided to fuck with the computer deal, so, the money I was going to pay for the computer was going to come fro the house money, not from a daily job---which was the catch.
At this point, I was actively job hunting, and had no idea when I might be able to start something. When Bm demanded that I cover for some period of time, I pointed out that if I landed a job, I would be attempting to work all night cleaning theatres, followed by working all day at whatever job I got, and as the combination would clearly be unfair to any new employer, I ethically could not commit to Bm's demand. Bm announced that the computer would not get paid for, and slammed the phone down.
Bf called up the next day to say the she would cover all of the computer, but this was basically typical of Bm . . . .
"Greetings"---One thing I finally noticed while at the James house is that Bm would say Hello to others, but that I would only be addressed with "Are you accomplishing anything?"
---In the same general category, were the at least two times I remember waking up in the morning to find Bm blithely rummaging through my property in my room, with neither permission nor apology asked or offered.
There are a few local cousins from Bf's side of the family, and every once in a while there is a gathering of "The MacDonald cousins"---which is usually when one cousin, Danny, comes down from British Columbia with his several kids.
At one such gettogether, at the James house, three cousins of my generation were there with Danny, and two cousin's worth of kids along with Danny's. At the end, as we all got up to go, with everyone doing things in different stages, I was standing more or less in the middle of everything, Bm had wound up beside me, and he turned to one of Danny's daughters, no more than 9, 10, or so years of age, and asked, point blank, "Have you been doing the pull ups like I told you to?" At that point I was looking in another direction and I kept looking in another direction, for if I had been facing Bm it is probably that I would have killed---or at least physically crippled---the worthless asshole on the spot. It was not enough that he had done his damnedest to utterly destroy my life with his hatred, he was attempting to perpetuate his blatant, unjustifiable child abuse with someone else's children as well.
Ah yes . . . . The last note I have is the aftermath of the weekend Bm was fucking with my getting to the first day of college classes on time. I stayed away that weekend, coming home after Bf had returned, and at some point soon after, Bf asked me to talk to her at her work, obviously away from Bm.
When I talked to her, I think my point blank question was what was she going to do about Bm? Her response was that she knew, or had always known, that Bm is insane, but that he'd always refused counseling. But, on the other hand, she had talked to someone at First Pres, and where he would be expensive, he was willing to talk to me---I pointed out that I was obviously far from insane, that it was Bm who needed the shrink, and that sending a sane person to a shrink because the insane one is incapable and irresponsible is bullshit.
I'm sure that for a description of Bm this is rather incomplete. However, this is an accurate and truthful portrayal of Bm's actions, choices, and, I'm fairly certain, intents. Under no circumstances whatsoever, as I have shown, can Bm ever be considered anyone's father, let alone mine and it is clear that Bm is little more that a selfish, self centered sociopathic child, with no value or redeeming features of any sort whatsoever. All that he has ever achieved is to cause pain and misery, not just to me, but through me as I have observed, sometimes after the fact---but sometimes as it occurs---the pain and misery that I have caused in others through my lack of humanity and any understanding of those around me.
If Bm and Bf were capable of having souls, I would own them. As it is, they are merely cold, empty, manipulative lumps of flesh, with no decency, humanity, or compassion of any amount or kind.
The female breeder, Fm, was born in Nova Scotia, Canada, also 70 something years ago, and is a year older than Bm. Her parents were Katherine and Daniel(?), the latter of whom I evidently never met, and the former of whom I did. She stayed with us for awhile when we were in the Chabot house . . . And I really don't remember much. What I do remember, though, is a cousin describing her as having been an absolute bitch.
He was speaking particularly in terms of Bf's brothers, and what was done to them. What exactly, I don't know, but evidently they were both crippled---and could walk fine.
Bf has spoken of originally planning to major in English, but, instead, going into nursing because she got paid for it, not because she was interested in it. About 10 something years ago, she was making noises about completing a degree, which never happened, and, simply, never will.
At some point she moved out to California. Here she either worked at, or helped run MacDonald Sanatorium, what is now Grandma's Bed and Breakfast, in Berkeley, which, I believe, was owned by one or both of the brothers.
Sometime around then she would have first started attending First Pres. Technically, the term would be join, but knowing her as well as I do, and factoring in comments from the same cousin as above, I would have to evaluate her as being a rather hard core, self centered atheist who only started going to First Pres; and remaining, because it was the social thing to be seen doing, and of course, lying about it is irrelevant. Bm, in turn, for example, basically hasn't been near the place in years . . . while remaining on the rolls.
I don't know when MacDonald Sanatorium closed, or the working there stopped, but I have no memories of it at all, so presumably it was at least by '60-'62 at the latest.
As I wrote before, the house we were in when I was born was owned by Bf, and was around the corner and down the street from M.S.
. . . . and either I am blanking on everything tonight, or I just have little to say---after all, she wasn't my mother, she just bred me . . .
In Taiwan, she was a general assistant, and, I think, the official bus driver for the polio home in Ehrlin. In Taichung, she was the school nurse at Morrison Academy, where I was enrolled.
Obviously interactions occurred, but all I really remember is that she and I lived there. One event that comes to mind is from all the construction that was going on in Taichung, and no, it's not entirely a non sequitur.
One bit of construction castoff of some sort was a large set of interlocked wheels which, from old memory, may have involved cement mixing, but when I and the neighboring Taiwanese got to it, it was two wheels freestanding. No, I don't really remember---cancel that, I did play with Caucasians, but also played with Taiwanese---I think the other Caucasians thought me weird for this.
We started spinning the wheels around, playing with the fact that f you spun one wheel, the gears would turn the other, and it was through those gears that one of my thumbs went.
I can't tell you which thumb it was, but I remember seeing a mass of pulp extending out of my hand, which, as I recall, did start bleeding.
As I recall, there was a quick conference about what to do about this, ad I announced that I would home and . . . do something. At home---and this is why I think it was bleeding---I wrapped the thumb in tissue paper and waited for Bf to come home.
Not "I want my mommy" or "Take me to where my mommy is", but, rather, " . . . and waited for Bf to come home."
Again, once back in California, there isn't much that comes to mind. She got a job as Director of Nurses at Ashby Geriatric, on Ashby, and I wound up spending yea many holiday days there, occasionally venturing out and around the corner to a bookstore/newstand that used to be in a side corner of what is now whole foods, on Telegraph.
In the mixing of dealing with others vs. me, a couple of occurrences do come to mind, in Taiwan, and in the Chabot apartment.
One Christmas in Taiwan, the polio kids were to be given little packages of odds and ends, little toys, candy, stuff like that. I wanted one, and I guess I asked Bf about it, and what I remember is a point blank No. I remember that I didn't throw a tantrum or anything, and don't remember much more than staring, and the person in charge gave me one, which thoroughly pissed off Bf.
Also, one Christmas, I think, there was some sort of "Give to the needy" event at First Pres, to which Bf and I went, for which Bf had bought some, as I recall, elaborate or expensive toy to toss onto the pile. As we were going out the door, it was handed to me to carry with a flat out order to handle with care. All I remember of it is that it was something I would have liked to have, and thus, obviously didn't, and that the handle with care injunction was because the box was of the open front variety, wrapped in cellophane. I remember that as we were walking through the front hallway of the apartment building, Bf in front of me, I announced something about the plastic front being broken, Bf snarled at me, I announced pretend broke, as it was indeed intact, and she was relieved.
In both of these, the thought now comes to mind that there is the point of helping the needy, but in both cases, the attitude I remember, or seem to have implied the most is that the Taiwan giveaway was being done, the First Pres giveaway was, for Bf, a big social "to be seen doing something at" event, and in both cases, giving something to an object that existed merely to have been bred was so bizarre as to be unthinkable---hence the rage in Taiwan. Oh, and no, "helping the needy" was not a concept that was explained to me in either instance.
At one point while at the Chabot house, the watering of the front and back lawns was done with a faucet operated by placing the handle onto the faucet, and the night before some out of town vacation trip when I was no older than eight, nine, then, I watered the lawns, and then the handle disappeared.
Bm ordered me to look for it . . . I have a vague memory of it being given precedence over any dinner. The most I remember of the next several hours is repeatedly searching where it should have been, but also combing back and forth on both lawns, in the dark, I do not remember being allowed or given a flashlight---and the thought now is that combing the lawns had little point, as the handle would not have been out over them. However, I was ordered back and forth, repeatedly and fruitlessly, as I never did find it.
This went on until about three A.M., at one point Bm had walked up to me and kicked me into a bush, I was only allowed to pack after I had been allowed to stop looking, and at some point Bf announced that I had ruined either the beginning, or all of, her vacation.
. . . . at this point, given the circumstances, never before losing the handle, I really do not remember any flashlights, and the apparent unconcern of where I searched, as long as I was out in the dark, I wonder if Bm just pocketed the handle and threw a fit just to fuck me over . . . .
Later---several years later---I remember that I was a regular viewer of a pair of back to back evening TV shows. One evening, for no reason that I recall, I clearly remember that Bf announced without warning or reason given that I could watch one or the other, but not both. I wasn't happy with the choice, but preferring to watch the second over the first, I told her I would do that. When it was time to watch the second show, she announced that the choice had been whether or not to watch the first show only, and that the second show would not be watched at all. I collapsed, screaming and in tears, pointing out that that was not what she had promised.
In my later elementary schools years, and even after, I was often designing gadgetry. When it came time to graduate from the sixth grade and go onto Jr. High, I was looking forward to it because that way I could start taking the lab classes that would then be available. Then I went off to two weeks of camping . . .
By that point, Bf was working as Director of Nurses at Piedmont Gardens, a senior residence center with a convalescence section. When I returned from camp, Bf announced matter of factly that rather than the logical and agreed upon transfer to the local public Jr. Hi. a few blocks away, I had been enrolled at and would soon attend St. Leo's, the Catholic Jr. Hi. about two blocks from Piedmont Garden.
I was horrified and enraged at that blatant betrayal, as it was obvious that I was not going to get what I needed . . . As I recall, the only reason given for St. Leo's was that it was two blocks away from Bf's work, not even close to being a reason for deliberately fucking over my education.
That summer I was sent up to the Lawrence Hall of Science, at which I started hanging around at times for the next couple of years. I was put into some sort of math related class of which I do not remember any point, and managed to also finagle a computer class, in which I first learned to program. I came home from that very enthused, going back for an additional computer lab. At that point, programming was being done on one of the original personal computers. Having the bug, I wanted one. Now, on the other hand, I do not remember asking for a computer, but I do have a very vague memory of the subject---or something close to it---coming up. At that point, payments were beginning to St. Leo's, and, in time, would continue to St. Joeseph's, a Catholic High school in Alameda. For awhile already, and continuing, Bm and Bf were making regular visits to the local estate auction house and buying things. The response to the concept of getting me a computer was always "We don't have the money"---until Bm decided that he could run his stock scams with a computer, and of course there was money . . . .
What else . . .
As stated, Bm's regular assaults and all around child abuse wee considered normal . . .
While I'm thinking of it, going into my Senior year of High school, tuition jumped through the roof, and it was announced "We're not paying that . . ." My response; "I wonder what it's like at Skyline?", where I knew people. I then worked my ass off getting the transfer arranged, with no help from Bf, and once there found the classes I had required since 5 years earlier---Bf's comment, in public; "Oh, maybe we should have left him in the public schools after all.", i.e. No Shit, Bitch!!!!!!!!!!
Sometime around late high school and general college, Bf started to make noises about problems she was having with Piedmont Garden's administration, how new people were unfair and just didn't know what they were doing---Suddenly she started to announce that there was to be a brand new Alzheimer's clinic at P.G.. Alzheimer's was considered the hot new area of study, and there was to be a major ground breaking clinic at P.G., and Bf was going to step down as Director of Nurses so that she could run the elite new clinic, and that would make her oh so important, and I think there was something about the director of the hot new important Alzheimer's clinic getting paid much more than merely the P.G. Director of Nurses . . . and so Bf stepped down, and there was a new Director of Nurses . . . and in a matter of months there were major complaints about the new Director of Nurses . . . . and Bf changed her hours around . . . and Bf said she was having nothing to do with this and that as I recall . . .
You notice there's suddenly no mention of some proposed hot new cutting edge Alzheimer's clinic?
I wasn't paying much attention at the time---It was Bf who was loudly tooting her horn about how important she was . . . but later, after plugging one thing into another, and knowing Bf as well as I do, I finally figured out that, most likely, Bf had been seriously, although maybe not hands on professionally, fucking up . . . so the powers that be decided that if she won't shape up, we'll bait and switch her out . . . She is now working nights, and has made several comments about just avoiding the powers that be . . .
Now . . . Bf is making noises about retirement by the end of the year. Myself, that is one reason I'm trying to claw my way into a more lucrative job; for the last while they've been covering my groceries, and I, having learned from them that people exist only to be used, am, thus, using them---which obviously isn't going to last forever . . .
Of course, at the same time knowing them as self centered assholes and seeing what they did to me, I don't see any point in trying to use others, and, generally, don't---or I make it blatant, deliberately and fairly leaving myself open for reversal.
And . . . . I have no idea. . . I'm tired, but I'm also out of ideas.
The only thing that comes to mind at this point is the time a Welsh nationalist professor and I were discussing the whole fuckup. My observation was that my awareness of being Scottish was more from cousins then Bf, that she made multiple noises, but that, as always, they amounted to little---and Bm had even less on the ball, except to have claimed descent from at least two people on the Mayflower, according to a cousin.
Oh, yesssss . . . And there was the comment from her cousins, regarding highland clan enemies, of; "She's marrying a what?!!! He'll murder her in her sleep!!!!!"---and the professor's instant retort was "and that is exactly what he did to her."
Soooooo .... If there ever was a Bf who was human and genuinely kind and considerate, I never knew her. All I've ever know is self centered, cold, and manipulative . . . Just like Bm . . and, in fact, just like what was claimed to be a friend of mine---who was raped so brutally that all she was died, leaving a meat shell that looks and acts just like it's creator . . . and, like it's creator, hates my guts.