Well, back again with more. After living on Patterson Avenue, we moved to California. My father had graduated with a Master's Degree in Social Work, and obtained a job in Sacramento. So, off we went cross country from Ohio to California, my Dad, my Mom, my sister, my brother, and me. And thus began an oddessy, an adventure, a total life-changing journey from relative normalcy to the pits of Hell. Bet you just can't wait to hear that, eh?
TTFN - need to clarify some chronological events with my brother to make sure I have everything straight in my feeble mind...
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
We all gotta start somewhere...
Okay, so here I am with my own blog! I must be becoming a 21st century woman at last!
This blog is all about my journey through becoming more of the woman God wants me to be, and less of the woman this life has made me. It ain't always gonna be pretty, but it will be real.
So - let's get started, shall we?
I was born in South Euclid, Ohio, as Carolyn Claire Walker, in December, 1959. My parents were Leonard and Betty Walker. My older brother, Donald, was born in April, 1951. There were also 2 other children born between us that did not survive. I know that one was a boy named Richard, and I don't know what the other one was.
We lived in South Euclid on Garden Drive. I remember it very vaguely. There was an old lady who lived across the street from us named Rosie. The street was a dead end road, and we lived in a big two story house. My sister, Liz, was born in October of 1962.
In 1963, my family moved from South Euclid to Columbus, Ohio, so my father could pursue his Master's degree in Social Work, which he did earn in June, 1964 at Ohio State University. The first place we lived was a house situation on a high hill, which used to be a pig farm. Hence, it was always referred to as "Pig Hill". Some people would be a little put off when my brother and I would say "Remember when we lived on Pig Hill?"
Finally, we lived on Patterson Avenue, in the house that belonged to my maternal grandparents, Erville and Mary Russell. It was a huge house, with 2 stories, and an attic that was my parents room. I remember my sister being tethered to a tree as punishment for running away, and I remember playing doctor with a little boy across the street. I remember my grandmother driving over to see us, and her pink Dodge Dart, with the push-button transmission. Just thinking about that house gives me the creeps...I also remember my Uncle John, my mom's brother, would come to Columbus once every year during the summer to visit. He lived (and still does) in New York City, and was the object of awe for me and my siblings - not just because he lived in New York, but because he was 6 feet 6 inches tall, and quite the imposing figure. Once particular summer I remember that every time he saw me, he would look at me, and crook his finger, beckoning me to come to him. HELL, NO! That big scary guy? How the hell did I know whether or not he was going to pop me in the oven and eat me, or something? Anyway, 45 years later, he still lives in New York, and I love him dearly.
Gonna stop for now - need to process some of these memories before going on...
This blog is all about my journey through becoming more of the woman God wants me to be, and less of the woman this life has made me. It ain't always gonna be pretty, but it will be real.
So - let's get started, shall we?
I was born in South Euclid, Ohio, as Carolyn Claire Walker, in December, 1959. My parents were Leonard and Betty Walker. My older brother, Donald, was born in April, 1951. There were also 2 other children born between us that did not survive. I know that one was a boy named Richard, and I don't know what the other one was.
We lived in South Euclid on Garden Drive. I remember it very vaguely. There was an old lady who lived across the street from us named Rosie. The street was a dead end road, and we lived in a big two story house. My sister, Liz, was born in October of 1962.
In 1963, my family moved from South Euclid to Columbus, Ohio, so my father could pursue his Master's degree in Social Work, which he did earn in June, 1964 at Ohio State University. The first place we lived was a house situation on a high hill, which used to be a pig farm. Hence, it was always referred to as "Pig Hill". Some people would be a little put off when my brother and I would say "Remember when we lived on Pig Hill?"
A couple of events stand out to me during that time. My father and his buddies used to love to go hunting, especially for rabbits. I remember him bringing home rabbits, and us having rabbit for dinner that night. No, it doesn't taste like chicken, it tastes like rabbit, and is very distinctive. I like the taste, some people don't. No harm, no foul. He used to go with his friend John Cogswell. John was a very likable guy who never seemed to be able to get his life quite in order. I found out later from my brother that he had been in love with my Mom for years, most likely unrequited. But, he and Dad remained friends until Dad died. That's another story for another post... I also remember that my Uncle Dick, Dad's brother, had given my sister and I a duck for Easter. Not a duckling, a full grown duck. Don't ask. Anyway, we had this little rat terrier bitch named Poochie. Poochie was the dog from Hell. She loved to run up to my Dad, nip his ankles, and watch him fall on his ass when he tried to take a kick at her. Lovely animal. Anyway, Poochie attacked the duck, and broke it's neck, so no more duck. But, we still found a way to have fun - we put the ducks' body on our swing set, and swung it back and forth, letting the duck fall to the ground, and laughing uproariously as we did this over...and over...and over. Mind you, I was only 6, and my sister 4, so we didn't really know any better, and quite frankly, probably didn't care, either. So, now you all know one of my deepest, darkest secrets - I abused a dead duck. One other memory just hit me - Dad was trying to teach me to jump rope. So, he stood behind me while I had the rope in my hands. He told me to swing the rope up, but instead, I jumped up and gave him a bloody nose. He put his hand over it, looked at me and said, "Lesson over." Probably went inside to have a drink to recover. Did I mention that my Dad was alcoholic? Again, future posts will put this all in perspective for you.
The next place we lived in Columbus was on East North Broadway Road. This is where we were living when Dad graduated from Ohio State I will always remember that day - it was hotter than the flames of hell sitting in the Horseshoe, watching these people march around in black robes, and getting a stupid piece of paper. For this, I sat outside and roasted my ass?
Some of my memories from living in this house:
Leaving home, and walking to the bank to borrow money to buy a pair of red pants. Today, you wouldn't catch me dead in a pair of red pants.
Telling my brother, at the top of my lungs, "I DON'T GET IN CARS WITH STRANGERS!!" when he tried to pick me up while I was walking to the bank to borrow money to buy a pair of red pants.
Watching a friend of my father climb through my bedroom window, and try to sexually abuse me, which was caught just in time by my father. Evidently, this guy had a thing for little girls...
Finally, we lived on Patterson Avenue, in the house that belonged to my maternal grandparents, Erville and Mary Russell. It was a huge house, with 2 stories, and an attic that was my parents room. I remember my sister being tethered to a tree as punishment for running away, and I remember playing doctor with a little boy across the street. I remember my grandmother driving over to see us, and her pink Dodge Dart, with the push-button transmission. Just thinking about that house gives me the creeps...I also remember my Uncle John, my mom's brother, would come to Columbus once every year during the summer to visit. He lived (and still does) in New York City, and was the object of awe for me and my siblings - not just because he lived in New York, but because he was 6 feet 6 inches tall, and quite the imposing figure. Once particular summer I remember that every time he saw me, he would look at me, and crook his finger, beckoning me to come to him. HELL, NO! That big scary guy? How the hell did I know whether or not he was going to pop me in the oven and eat me, or something? Anyway, 45 years later, he still lives in New York, and I love him dearly.
Gonna stop for now - need to process some of these memories before going on...
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