Out of the way

Well I need to go ahead and get this out of the way.

Back in '76 I think it was when I was in seventh grade life took some crazy turns. The year started off normal enough, well as normal as life could be for us.  My memory is all I have from those times, and it seems as I age that memory gets sharp on certain things and seems to be dull on others. So knowing that then, this is how I see it.

We started school that year here in NY, and I think we lived near the Manor but not on it.  Our father took a job working on a  Dam out near Cincinnati Ohio. He went alone with the promise he would get a place and send for us. He changed those large tires on the construction equipment. So life was moving along and we did not hear from him regarding coming down there. I know there were many nights of hushed phone calls between he and my mom though.

School was broken up in four parts, after the first report card we were told finally we would be moving down to Ohio. My oldest brother David was already there I do not recall how he got there and all those details, but he was there ahead of us. I know because we grilled him about how television might be different there!I guess we thought TV would be all different somehow, but not really sure how.

When I told the School I was leaving they had us go though a process, and part of that was to report to the librarian and turn in our library card. It was beyond me at the time but she was a nice lady and followed students lives at School, or at least was in tune with them.  When I tried to turn in my card she said I should keep it as she was sure she would see me again. I assured her we would not be back, but she insisted I keep it anyway. it struck me as odd, because up to that point I never looked at the teachers or Faculty as people. She made me see that they were actually people!

So, we packed up in a U-Haul truck and headed southwest. It was a long nightmarish trip, and I do recall it not being very pleasant. However, our arrival was certainly to be remembered. Apparently my mom was assured we had a place to stay upon arrival. So the lesson there might be, define a place to stay involving five kids and two adults. Seems there might just be different interpretations about that. One interpretation is, a one room sleaze hotel! Yup, we arrived to this converted house hotel place, and it took my mom a bit to figure out we were in deed in the right place. But once she realized that we all were to squeeze into this one room apartment, well, we were all sent outside while there were some very loud words exchanged inside! Pretty typical so we knew go find something to do other than hover around.

My mom was very industrious I suppose is the word, and it did not take her long to find us a new place to stay. Well, when I say new I am in no means referring to the place itself.  The place was well out of town and it was in fact an old abandoned farm house, complete with old tobacco barns and outhouse! Yup, a working out house. That would be our bathroom now. To top it off there was a well nearby for our water.  First order of business was to gut the house. Having been abandoned for the last 50 or so years it was filthy. And seems some of the local teens liked to use it to store all their beer cans there, thousands of them.

So, a few days gutting and cleaning and we moved in. No electricity, no indoor plumbing, but it was ours. A place to call our own. As kids, it was a great place. Barns to play in, fields to run in, and creeks to build dams, it was near perfect. Of course a down side was having again to share a room with my brothers, that was never fun. Especially my oddest, he wanted the room to himself so did his best to make our lives miserable and try to take all the space for himself.

The place itself wasn't much, my mother was a farm girl so she knew how to make due. She set to getting the place usable, the kitchen did not have any appliances, no stove no fridge, nothing like that. The place did not have electricity so if there were appliances they weren't going to work. She had the foresight to bring an old cast iron stove with her, one of those really old cook stoves. That stove is now in my home waiting to be cleaned up and restored.

We went out in the woods and cut wood for the stove, so my mother could cook dinner and heat the house. There was an old bathtub out on a porch and she would heat water to take the chill out of the cold water for baths, using that stove as well.

The day's in Ohio were fun as 13 year old's, and we did make the best of them. But times were tough, and in the back of my mind I knew they were tough. We were short on food, I know a neighbor gave us chickens, some we kept for eggs, others we put in the pot for dinner. We had to prepare those chickens, and it was a gruesome process, but we needed to eat. We were familiar with the process of preparing our own food from The Manor. The best thing my mother cooked was corn bread in a cast iron pan in the cast iron oven. It was a great dish. Of course there were other favorite dishes. Some of the food was brought in from a food pantry, very large commercial cans of whatever was donated that day. Hit or miss I guess.

At one point we moved again, this time  to another town not far from the first. Another dilapidated farm house, and again no facilities. And of course yet another new school. We made the best of it. We went into the woods and cut wood for heat, and did what had to be done to make do. Moving schools was hard though, just when you got to know a few kids off we went.

Finally at some point my mother had had enough and we all packed into a U-Haul and headed back to NY. A trip for the century. My next older brother and I walked down the driveway, just getting home from school, and were rushed into the back of the U-Haul. That's right, we climbed up on all the stuff already packed in the truck, including the dogs, cats, and chickens!

That was the fourth quarter of school. And sure enough that old librarian was there to reprimand me for not having kept my library ID card. Secretly I really liked it that she cared. She was one of the first teachers I recall who truly seemed to care. I think she knew we had it bad, and I think she was trying to reach out. Of course I was so shielded and guarded I was not going to let her in.

The time in Ohio was also a time of respite. It was my sanctuary, my salvation. Though I am now an adult and have lived for a day or two, it is still a hard thing for me to say and write. But, just before we left for Ohio, there was a monster who took advantage of a naive lost boy.

He took things from me that I may never get back, trust, love, and safety. I did not know that men could use boys in such a way, I knew boys and girls had relations, and was unclear how those relations worked, but I knew what this man was doing was wrong. I knew he was taking something from me, but what I don't know was why and how I was unable to free myself. I was trapped somehow.

There was none I could trust to tell, and felt very alone and lost. He took advantage of that. He also pressed me to bring my younger brother who was a bit chubby and blond, and that really seemed to strike this monster. He would promise this and that and pressed really hard. None of promises mounted to anything though, and after time, I grew to know that. I was not about to drag my younger brother into this perverted situation. Until finally this monster started to make threats to my life and that of my family. He swore he would come after all of us and kill us in the night if I did not comply. He made it clear if I were to speak of this to anyone I would not live to see the next day. I believed him.

So, when my mom announced we were moving, it was a glorious day. And that we were moving right away was even better. I did not tell the monster and he would just have to deal the fact that one day I did not show up.  I do wish I was able to see his face when he learned we were gone. Ans today, to sit here any publicly type this, it is still a very very hard thing. Still an open wound.

So being back in NY brought on a whole new meaning. I loved Ohio, and wished we could have stayed there. I felt home there, I felt connected. Though we had nothing, we had each other. And without all the trappings of life I felt open and free. Sometimes I think I am still trying to get back to Ohio, to that place, to that safe place. Yes, The Manor was a safe place and our grandfather was a wonderful person. He always made us feel welcome and at home, never as though we were second best. And after we came back home, once or twice I made a very feeble attempt to tell my friend, my confidant, my grandfather. But I never could quite get it out. I though he would think less of me, he would think I was flawed and damaged. I could not allow that. Now looking back I know he would have been accepting and he would have still loved me just the same.

So we were back home. We made it through another round of madness that our father was famous for dragging us through. Now, to just kick back and wait for the next round that was sure to come. And they did. Over the years it was the same repeated again and again.