Where were we? Oh, yeah, the plane lands in beautiful New York. I couldn't tell you where specifically, but we were state-side.
To my parents knowledge, we were supposed to go to Colorado Springs from New York - but wait - a new packet of orders waiting for Dad. We are to proceed to San Antonio, TX - do not pass go, do not collect $200.
Now, to some people, this would not be an issue, however, my father being who he was, had already researched schools in Colorado Springs and picked a place for us to live, close to the base of course. San Antonio was an unknown, a mystery to us all.
To San Antonio then. Brooks AFB, we are housed here temporarily until Dad can find a house close to Kelly AFB - his new duty station, and until our household goods arrive from over-seas. We don't even have a car. Somewhere Dad finds a VW Bug - mind you, we are a family of 7 - he finds a bug. The baby sits on Mom's lap, the three older boys share the backseat and I lay on the top of the backseat. It was like a window ledge. One day the window ledge gave out and I found to my delight a little cubby sort of place for me to sit more comfortably. We tootle around S.A. in this bug and then a house is found near the base and our furnishings arrive. Compared to housing today, this house was tiny. It had three four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, dining/kitchen room and a not too small backyard. What this house also had was the area of S.A. it was located in - the armpit of TX.
In this neighborhood I would make my first new friends, and enemies. The family that lived next door were very nice, unfortunately they barely spoke English, and Spanish sounding so much like Italian to me I immediately tried talking in Italian. I was greeted by Texmex Spanish and a wall came crashing down in my poor little brain. To this day, I have been unable to learn Spanish - the mental block is too firmly entrenched. The girl I met, however, would become one of my best friends and her parents always welcomed me in their home. I can still smell homemade tortillas cooking over an open flame on the stove, and oh, the beans were heavenly.
Dad had to report to duty asap so he did not really get a good chance to investigate the schools, or the area. For a while, I attended a private school with my older brother, but was so unhappy there I actually wrote a paper, perfectly I might add, in mirror script. My parents were advised to pull me out and send me to public school. So I went, and this is where everything spins out of my control and my life is forever changed. Hutchins Elementary School, armpit of S.A., TX. I was ill equipped to deal with the peers I encountered here. I had been taught to be respectful, honest, trustworthy and trusting. Trusting - this is the most dangerous thing a child can be taught to be.
This particular blog is going to be the most difficult to get through, I think. So much happened in that period of my life. It has totally made me who I am today, and as weird as that sounds, good has come out of the bad.
The Bad
Her name was Michelle. I don't remember her last name, all I remember is that we made friends quickly and fast - as in we were fast friends.
She had brothers and sisters in Jr. High and High School. We were little 2nd graders who looked up to everyone older than us. We loved playing together, but then her brothers and sisters decided to play too. I still remember the first time her older brother "played" with me. There was no easing into it, no mild molestation, it was full on sex from the beginning. When he was done with me that first time, I thought he had urinated on me until he told me that I was silly, this was the stuff that made babies.
I walked around terrified for the longest time thinking I was going to have a baby and wondering what I would tell my parents. Of course this didn't happen, 2nd graders are incapable of procreation, but I didn't know that.
These games went on forever and eventually other neighborhood boys joined in. I can still go back today and point out the houses where I was, bottom line, raped, and where I was taught to perform a strip-tease. My older brother was also part of these games. We really had no clue.
My "games" went on until about 4th - 5th grade. I don't really remember, I just know it kept happening day after day, week after week --- forever.
Michelle finally moved away, but that didn't matter, the damage was done. My "games" may have finally ended, but there were still issues. Our Uncle lived with our Grandmother just across the street from us. He tried "feeling me up" a couple of times, but I was so uncomfortable with this that I said something to Mom and she put a stop to it. Don't ask me why I didn't tell her about the other stuff, I was a kid, what did I know? All I knew was that Uncle was an adult and that somehow made it different.
Looking back, I sometimes wish I hadn't put a stop to things with Uncle, maybe then he would have left my brother alone? Who knows? He was a pedophile, most likely unpreferrential, since he had girly magazines in the trunk by his bed, but he still went after my brother and none of us knew. I always used to wonder why he preferred my brother's company to mine when friends would visit him from home. He also used to prefer my friends company when he did take us out, like to the zoo or something. I used be jealous because he would pay more attention to my friends than to me, his own niece.
In the long run, he got his. He died a slow painful death of lung cancer. I should know, I was there. I sat in his hospital room and counted his breaths and watched him in agony. This may seem cold, un-Christian, but it is what it is. It is my belief that people who molest children should die slow, agonizing deaths.
I didn't tell my mother about what happened to me until I was 13 or 14. When I did tell her, she responded by saying that it was a good thing I hadn't told sooner or my Father would be in prison for murdering the boys involved. Maybe I had sensed this long ago and that was why I hadn't said anything. As it was, it wasn't until we left S.A. that I did tell her.
Okay, I need a break. I'll get back with the rest of this story later. Thanks for sticking with me.
Beautiful, Bloggable Me
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