My Proposed Facebook timeline when it comes out:
Sometime January 1974: I'm conceived by immaculate conception, cause we know parents don't "do it", that's just...weird. Scientist dispute this fact...they are wrong.
July 1974: My mom is undoubtedly wearing bright polyester leisure suit or bell bottoms, has a hormonal imbalance making her crave pickles and watermelon. I believe these things are a direct link to why I am colorblind, and don't like watermelon and pickles. And have a strong, strong aversion to all things 70's (side note, except 70's rock and tv shows), once again "scientific" minds tell me it's genes and a hypersensitivity to textures that make me colorblind and dislike those items...I tell them their shoes are untied, and they look...I win.
October 10, 1974: My mom finally has had enough, and I believe she utters the words "Get this bastard out of me," knowing full well she knows my dad. The doctor then smacks me on the bottom to test my lungs, I believe two thing...he has a weird fetish and it's on display only no one knows, and that something like that sends confusing signals to a kid...something as an adult we still look for...you know what I'm talkin about.
December 18, 1974: My mom asks my doctor if I'm big enough and healthy enough to travel to Alabama to meet the family. He replies "this kid is built like a sherman tank," which makes me believe that he was an old jackass, yet somehow had prophet like abilities..cause he wasn't far off. In hindsight, I wish he would have said...of course,he's built like a billionare or olympic athelte. Now I laugh at the notion of asking if I was healthy enough to travel from Jacksonville, FL to Clio, Alabama considering the fact that I would be riding on my mom's lap in a Gremlin with only a waist belt on her and her vulcan death grip on me vs. inertia, impact and g-forces. Wasn't the 70's great!
1974 til 1975 - ate, slept, filled loads of diapers
1975 til sometime late '75/76 - ate, slept, filled diapers and potty training worked, began to use "the big boy seat", made cooing sounds, people were amazed. I still do those things (except the diapers) and I don't even get a "good job" from anyone. Expectations are on the increase.
1977-1978 - start school age 4; my colorblindness was discovered, people were amazed, still keep asking the same question "does that mean you can't see color?" oddly enough...it does. Picture of me in a leisure suit, my parents sense of humor is revealed and it's hurtful. Saw Tron, it was good. Saw ET...I would on occasion, later in life, steal his line "Phone home?" without the glowing finger. Went camping with my dad, saw lesbians for the first time in the tent next to us, learned humor by my dad's friend asking them "how do you like your sausage in the morning?", we packed up camp a few minutes after that. Saw "The Howling," a friend's mom thought this would be a good movie for an pre-schooler, found out about 4 letter words when my mom picked me up. Night terrors ensued.
Sometime 1977/78 Kid pushes me on the play ground, and I split the back of my head open. Dazed and confused I walk to our front door and knock, even wounded and in serious pain, I still manage the simple courtesies. Mom freaks out and rushes me to hospital. Using a white towel she tries to staunch the flow of blood, it doesnt work. I have my first experience of feeling bad at anothers humiliation, when a dad sitting with his son who has cut finger and is crying, looks over and points to me and says, He is hurt worse and hes not crying!, little does the dad realize that the loss of blood and shock have dried up my tear ducts, for a moment, I catch the briefest glimpse of what I can only describe as the 1000 yd stare of death, from his son. For a crying 6 yr oldhe makes me shudder. I tend to believe that this person is now somewhere screaming as he flogs himself, SEE DAD NO TEARS!, NO TEARS!
-I wear a turban of gauze for a couple of weeks to cover the stitches, makes me look like a mullahwithout the money or a camel. I also suffer from equilibrium problems, so Im a turbaned up kid, who walks like a drunken sailor on shore leave, keeping an eye out for a vengeful 6 yr old with a hurt finger. This is going to be a long year.
1980 My mom gets my brother and me, glowing lightsabers that make the whooshing sound for Christmas. We proceed to beat each other with them, yelling can you feel the force! We hit my mom with it, apparently she did feel the force and let us know the power of the darkside on our backside. She takes them away and gives us G.I. Joe action figures, we use lighter fluid to set them on fire, cause everyone knows Cobra would use Napalm. We hear my mom cryingshe mumbles the words whats wrong with those two, and why cant we have anything nice.
-my teacher is the sister of Mean Joe Green, we get to meet him in class, he is neither mean or green, but is named Joe. Disappointment becomes a normal experience from this point on.
1982 - Moved down to Jacksonville from Virginia. Stayed with my Aunt & Uncle, they had HBO...still remember the theme song. Moved to my Grandparents farm in Green Cove Springs, Florida. My grandfather had me eat a jalapeno, it was hot and unpleasant. Had me eat a unripened strawberry, which he convienced me was ripe...colorblind remember...it was gross. I didn't understand his humor. I still don't like strawberries.
1983- Moved into new home in the 'Burg. enuff said.
Summer 1984 Nice summer visit to my grandparents farm. We decide to go horseback riding. I saddle up and ride Cinnamon, a cute brown pony & another family member rides Thunder a large quarter horse. We decide to stop by a little creek and enjoy the view. And things turned ugly. In what I can only describe as a serious violation of personal space, Thunder, apparently found the spot a tad bit romantic or Cinnamon was giving off the classic horse signals. In a surreal turn of events "Thunder" decided to use my ears as stirrups and take Cinnamon up on a horseback ride, my pitiful and high pitched screams didnt deter his love making. The term hung like a horse, takes on a whole new level of meaning when its up close, personal, and near your back door. Cinnamon enjoyed her afternoon at the creek, Thunder earned his name and walked with a cocky attitude all the way home, my family member was left with a painful side from laughing, I was left with hoof burns on my ears and a desire to cover my ass when a horse snorts. Horses, the S&M crowd of the animal world.
1984 - 1985 - Wilkinson Jr. High. Mom's sense of humor returns...this time it's the Miami Vice look, she's a cruel, cruel woman. My other grandfather, after I was stung on the face by a bee, slapped a wad of Tobacco he had been chewing all day on my face to " 'leviate the sting,"...apparently no one told him how nasty that is, and a lifelong aversion to people touching me began. Began to go to church at First Baptist of Middleburg, made new friends by gambling after Sunday school.
1985- Didnt quite understand the term redneck, until we paint my dads truck camouflage, with spray paint from Ace, complete with smiley faces. The transition to the Burg way of life is complete.
Star Trek the next generation took the Borg line Resistance is futile, prepare to be assimilated, directly from this moment in my childhood. I tell them the Burg, and the Borg, are too close to be a coincidence, they say its after someone in Sweden, I tell them Swiss Miss is the only good thing out of Sweden, they stop taking my calls.
Summer 1985: Visiting my Grandmother and extended family in Alabama, we partake in the Vacation Bible School at her church. My great Aunt is our teacher, we ridicule my brother for most of our first class, the insult that I hurled that broke him was, You shave your pits like a girl, his response was The F* I do! my poor Great Aunt looked aghast, but I would imagine shes heard that word before, so she must not have heard about this shaving thing. My brother runs out and down the road to my grandmothers house, apparently to out run the newshe forgets about phones. My grandmother is waiting with a fly swatter. God forgives; my Grandmother does after a few well delivered blows. I still stand by the shaving of the pits thing. Later, we find my uncles weed stash he has hidden under the cap of the large propane tank out back, like the Folgers commercial we secretly switched his weed with grass clippings, call him out and proceed to burn it. He didnt use a fly swatter, for a pot headhe had a temper and was surprisingly quick. We laughed when we told the truth about the joke; he then took us fishing with dynamite. I learn that in Bama you can curse in the house of the lord, get beat by an old lady, burn a bag of pot, and fish with dynamite and no one thinks this is odd, they call it Saturday.
Sometime 1985 my mom in a kind gesture to improve our overall health, buys the industrial size bottle of Flintstone vitamins with iron. My brother, cousin and I decide we like the flavors and eat handfuls at a time. Poison control was called. Iron can kill. Now, right before poison control was notified, I watched a NOVA program that told me the sun would go supernova in 6 billion years, to me this is just not enough time to you knowsee and do thingsso Im bummed. On the car ride to the ER, my aforementioned family members, insist on reminding me that we are going to die, with tubes down inside of us, probes in bad places..you know the works, suddenly the sun blowing up seems a good way to go. At the ER they give us syrup of ipecac, which is a vile substance, to help useject the offending vitamins from our bodies. I take a sip and its off to the racesmy brother has three bottles, proving that he is a very odd guy with a very powerful stomach, and no gag reflex. I feel bad for the person that has to shift through the outcome of our experience. Doctors and nurses call us Fred, Barney, and Dinotheir humor makes me dislike doctors.
1986 My mom makes me Jam shorts, which today would be called board shorts, she makes them with orange and black tiger stripped patterned cloth. She also decides since my dad is out to sea a good way to save money is to give us haircuts at home. Shes not a hairstylist, she watched a 10 minute video with the styling kit she bought. My hair looks like its growing back after being shaved in some kind of unhappy camp or dealing with a bad mange outbreak. She sends me to school with my new styled hair cut and fashionable tiger stripped shorts.to her credit she kept a straight face when she sent me out the door. Her cruel streak is getting wider and deeper. My social calendar doesnt improve which is odd for a husky kid, with a terrible haircut, and bad fashion senseIm sure there was something that held me backI just cant put a finger on it. My mom says I have a wonderful personality, which is code for, youre not much to look at, try to be funny. Shyness hasnt run in my familytill now.
Summer of 1988 Decides to play Jr. High football, now up to this point my only display of athletic ability has been playing Smear the (edited for political correctness) in the front yard. My parents are very lenient with our gamesmanship in the front, so basically it like a repeated mugging with a football thrown in. To play organized sports, Im required to have a physical, probably to determine what kind of physical specimen I am, turns out glob of goo, isnt a medical term, but Im hearing it. My mom was excited when she found out that local doctors would be giving free physical at the High School, so we make our way up there. We start lining up to get up on stage, the curtains are closed, which both calms my nervesand makes me nervous. We are told to strip off our shirts, get in a straight line, and hold onto our paper work. I feel like a piece of meat. As I make my way, trying hard not to bump shoulders with the people in line with me.I go momentary deaf when its my turn for the hernia check. I stare at the doctor seated before me blankly as he asks me to undo my pants and zipper, Ummmmwhatcha checkin down there for? He just puts on a fresh pair of latex gloves and smiles. Fear, deep black fear sets in. With a quickness only seen in snakes he grabsthe berries. Im trying with all my might not to moveleast he latch on like a python and strangle me. My weirdness is only intensified as he ask how ya doin today? Feelin alright? The enormity of that question weighs upon me, instead of responding I give a weak smile and utter a sound between what I can only say would be a moan and a hiss. The doctor smiles again and winks. Somewhere the child inside of me runs into a corner, curls into a fetal position and cries. Football is turning out to be a lot more uncomfortable than I thought.
Sometime January 1974: I'm conceived by immaculate conception, cause we know parents don't "do it", that's just...weird. Scientist dispute this fact...they are wrong.
July 1974: My mom is undoubtedly wearing bright polyester leisure suit or bell bottoms, has a hormonal imbalance making her crave pickles and watermelon. I believe these things are a direct link to why I am colorblind, and don't like watermelon and pickles. And have a strong, strong aversion to all things 70's (side note, except 70's rock and tv shows), once again "scientific" minds tell me it's genes and a hypersensitivity to textures that make me colorblind and dislike those items...I tell them their shoes are untied, and they look...I win.
October 10, 1974: My mom finally has had enough, and I believe she utters the words "Get this bastard out of me," knowing full well she knows my dad. The doctor then smacks me on the bottom to test my lungs, I believe two thing...he has a weird fetish and it's on display only no one knows, and that something like that sends confusing signals to a kid...something as an adult we still look for...you know what I'm talkin about.
December 18, 1974: My mom asks my doctor if I'm big enough and healthy enough to travel to Alabama to meet the family. He replies "this kid is built like a sherman tank," which makes me believe that he was an old jackass, yet somehow had prophet like abilities..cause he wasn't far off. In hindsight, I wish he would have said...of course,he's built like a billionare or olympic athelte. Now I laugh at the notion of asking if I was healthy enough to travel from Jacksonville, FL to Clio, Alabama considering the fact that I would be riding on my mom's lap in a Gremlin with only a waist belt on her and her vulcan death grip on me vs. inertia, impact and g-forces. Wasn't the 70's great!
1974 til 1975 - ate, slept, filled loads of diapers
1975 til sometime late '75/76 - ate, slept, filled diapers and potty training worked, began to use "the big boy seat", made cooing sounds, people were amazed. I still do those things (except the diapers) and I don't even get a "good job" from anyone. Expectations are on the increase.
1977-1978 - start school age 4; my colorblindness was discovered, people were amazed, still keep asking the same question "does that mean you can't see color?" oddly enough...it does. Picture of me in a leisure suit, my parents sense of humor is revealed and it's hurtful. Saw Tron, it was good. Saw ET...I would on occasion, later in life, steal his line "Phone home?" without the glowing finger. Went camping with my dad, saw lesbians for the first time in the tent next to us, learned humor by my dad's friend asking them "how do you like your sausage in the morning?", we packed up camp a few minutes after that. Saw "The Howling," a friend's mom thought this would be a good movie for an pre-schooler, found out about 4 letter words when my mom picked me up. Night terrors ensued.
Sometime 1977/78 Kid pushes me on the play ground, and I split the back of my head open. Dazed and confused I walk to our front door and knock, even wounded and in serious pain, I still manage the simple courtesies. Mom freaks out and rushes me to hospital. Using a white towel she tries to staunch the flow of blood, it doesnt work. I have my first experience of feeling bad at anothers humiliation, when a dad sitting with his son who has cut finger and is crying, looks over and points to me and says, He is hurt worse and hes not crying!, little does the dad realize that the loss of blood and shock have dried up my tear ducts, for a moment, I catch the briefest glimpse of what I can only describe as the 1000 yd stare of death, from his son. For a crying 6 yr oldhe makes me shudder. I tend to believe that this person is now somewhere screaming as he flogs himself, SEE DAD NO TEARS!, NO TEARS!
-I wear a turban of gauze for a couple of weeks to cover the stitches, makes me look like a mullahwithout the money or a camel. I also suffer from equilibrium problems, so Im a turbaned up kid, who walks like a drunken sailor on shore leave, keeping an eye out for a vengeful 6 yr old with a hurt finger. This is going to be a long year.
1980 My mom gets my brother and me, glowing lightsabers that make the whooshing sound for Christmas. We proceed to beat each other with them, yelling can you feel the force! We hit my mom with it, apparently she did feel the force and let us know the power of the darkside on our backside. She takes them away and gives us G.I. Joe action figures, we use lighter fluid to set them on fire, cause everyone knows Cobra would use Napalm. We hear my mom cryingshe mumbles the words whats wrong with those two, and why cant we have anything nice.
-my teacher is the sister of Mean Joe Green, we get to meet him in class, he is neither mean or green, but is named Joe. Disappointment becomes a normal experience from this point on.
1982 - Moved down to Jacksonville from Virginia. Stayed with my Aunt & Uncle, they had HBO...still remember the theme song. Moved to my Grandparents farm in Green Cove Springs, Florida. My grandfather had me eat a jalapeno, it was hot and unpleasant. Had me eat a unripened strawberry, which he convienced me was ripe...colorblind remember...it was gross. I didn't understand his humor. I still don't like strawberries.
1983- Moved into new home in the 'Burg. enuff said.
Summer 1984 Nice summer visit to my grandparents farm. We decide to go horseback riding. I saddle up and ride Cinnamon, a cute brown pony & another family member rides Thunder a large quarter horse. We decide to stop by a little creek and enjoy the view. And things turned ugly. In what I can only describe as a serious violation of personal space, Thunder, apparently found the spot a tad bit romantic or Cinnamon was giving off the classic horse signals. In a surreal turn of events "Thunder" decided to use my ears as stirrups and take Cinnamon up on a horseback ride, my pitiful and high pitched screams didnt deter his love making. The term hung like a horse, takes on a whole new level of meaning when its up close, personal, and near your back door. Cinnamon enjoyed her afternoon at the creek, Thunder earned his name and walked with a cocky attitude all the way home, my family member was left with a painful side from laughing, I was left with hoof burns on my ears and a desire to cover my ass when a horse snorts. Horses, the S&M crowd of the animal world.
1984 - 1985 - Wilkinson Jr. High. Mom's sense of humor returns...this time it's the Miami Vice look, she's a cruel, cruel woman. My other grandfather, after I was stung on the face by a bee, slapped a wad of Tobacco he had been chewing all day on my face to " 'leviate the sting,"...apparently no one told him how nasty that is, and a lifelong aversion to people touching me began. Began to go to church at First Baptist of Middleburg, made new friends by gambling after Sunday school.
1985- Didnt quite understand the term redneck, until we paint my dads truck camouflage, with spray paint from Ace, complete with smiley faces. The transition to the Burg way of life is complete.
Star Trek the next generation took the Borg line Resistance is futile, prepare to be assimilated, directly from this moment in my childhood. I tell them the Burg, and the Borg, are too close to be a coincidence, they say its after someone in Sweden, I tell them Swiss Miss is the only good thing out of Sweden, they stop taking my calls.
Summer 1985: Visiting my Grandmother and extended family in Alabama, we partake in the Vacation Bible School at her church. My great Aunt is our teacher, we ridicule my brother for most of our first class, the insult that I hurled that broke him was, You shave your pits like a girl, his response was The F* I do! my poor Great Aunt looked aghast, but I would imagine shes heard that word before, so she must not have heard about this shaving thing. My brother runs out and down the road to my grandmothers house, apparently to out run the newshe forgets about phones. My grandmother is waiting with a fly swatter. God forgives; my Grandmother does after a few well delivered blows. I still stand by the shaving of the pits thing. Later, we find my uncles weed stash he has hidden under the cap of the large propane tank out back, like the Folgers commercial we secretly switched his weed with grass clippings, call him out and proceed to burn it. He didnt use a fly swatter, for a pot headhe had a temper and was surprisingly quick. We laughed when we told the truth about the joke; he then took us fishing with dynamite. I learn that in Bama you can curse in the house of the lord, get beat by an old lady, burn a bag of pot, and fish with dynamite and no one thinks this is odd, they call it Saturday.
Sometime 1985 my mom in a kind gesture to improve our overall health, buys the industrial size bottle of Flintstone vitamins with iron. My brother, cousin and I decide we like the flavors and eat handfuls at a time. Poison control was called. Iron can kill. Now, right before poison control was notified, I watched a NOVA program that told me the sun would go supernova in 6 billion years, to me this is just not enough time to you knowsee and do thingsso Im bummed. On the car ride to the ER, my aforementioned family members, insist on reminding me that we are going to die, with tubes down inside of us, probes in bad places..you know the works, suddenly the sun blowing up seems a good way to go. At the ER they give us syrup of ipecac, which is a vile substance, to help useject the offending vitamins from our bodies. I take a sip and its off to the racesmy brother has three bottles, proving that he is a very odd guy with a very powerful stomach, and no gag reflex. I feel bad for the person that has to shift through the outcome of our experience. Doctors and nurses call us Fred, Barney, and Dinotheir humor makes me dislike doctors.
1986 My mom makes me Jam shorts, which today would be called board shorts, she makes them with orange and black tiger stripped patterned cloth. She also decides since my dad is out to sea a good way to save money is to give us haircuts at home. Shes not a hairstylist, she watched a 10 minute video with the styling kit she bought. My hair looks like its growing back after being shaved in some kind of unhappy camp or dealing with a bad mange outbreak. She sends me to school with my new styled hair cut and fashionable tiger stripped shorts.to her credit she kept a straight face when she sent me out the door. Her cruel streak is getting wider and deeper. My social calendar doesnt improve which is odd for a husky kid, with a terrible haircut, and bad fashion senseIm sure there was something that held me backI just cant put a finger on it. My mom says I have a wonderful personality, which is code for, youre not much to look at, try to be funny. Shyness hasnt run in my familytill now.
Summer of 1988 Decides to play Jr. High football, now up to this point my only display of athletic ability has been playing Smear the (edited for political correctness) in the front yard. My parents are very lenient with our gamesmanship in the front, so basically it like a repeated mugging with a football thrown in. To play organized sports, Im required to have a physical, probably to determine what kind of physical specimen I am, turns out glob of goo, isnt a medical term, but Im hearing it. My mom was excited when she found out that local doctors would be giving free physical at the High School, so we make our way up there. We start lining up to get up on stage, the curtains are closed, which both calms my nervesand makes me nervous. We are told to strip off our shirts, get in a straight line, and hold onto our paper work. I feel like a piece of meat. As I make my way, trying hard not to bump shoulders with the people in line with me.I go momentary deaf when its my turn for the hernia check. I stare at the doctor seated before me blankly as he asks me to undo my pants and zipper, Ummmmwhatcha checkin down there for? He just puts on a fresh pair of latex gloves and smiles. Fear, deep black fear sets in. With a quickness only seen in snakes he grabsthe berries. Im trying with all my might not to moveleast he latch on like a python and strangle me. My weirdness is only intensified as he ask how ya doin today? Feelin alright? The enormity of that question weighs upon me, instead of responding I give a weak smile and utter a sound between what I can only say would be a moan and a hiss. The doctor smiles again and winks. Somewhere the child inside of me runs into a corner, curls into a fetal position and cries. Football is turning out to be a lot more uncomfortable than I thought.
_j0shua_:
You're welcome 