WHY

My sister Gloria was two years younger than I was when she died. The Walkers were adopting us both. They were older when they decided to adopt. Clem, the father, was happy with his life, just him and Little Red, as he called Barbara his wife. They got me in 68 because mom was depressed after losing a pregnancy earlier. Wait…I still do it, jump into a story in the middle.

Okay, from the beginning…

My father was ten years older than my mom. One day he saw this light-skinned girl with a sassy attitude and a friendly face. They only dated for three months before getting married. Dad was drafted. So, they had a short two weeks together before he had to ship out. It was the worst short honeymoon period ever discussed. Dad would tell how they married on Tuesday; mom broke out with measles by Thursday and was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes within a week. I once asked if he had known she would be so much trouble, would he still have married her? He smiled and said, “I loved her from the first moment I laid eyes on her; YES, I would not change a thing; I feel alive when I am with her!”

Dad served two years of active duty in the Army. So, that mom wasn’t alone; Aunt Peggy moved in. Mom was the oldest of all of Grandma’s children. She was ten years older than her sister, but they often dressed alike and bought the same gadgets.

As I explored the main house while looking for the insurance policies after mom died in 95, I found two of everything in both bedrooms. Two original Kodak cameras and two original Kodak Model E cine 16mm movie cameras. All four cameras had undeveloped film inside. At that time, technology wasn’t as advanced as today; the film hasn’t been attempted yet to be viewed, developed, or digitally remastered.

They all were into music. Early media were 33^1/3 rpm recorded on glass albums; they were breakable. I also remember listening to recordings on a reel-to-reel tape machine. My love of music was born from this early exposure to the classics.

I began receiving an allowance when I started school. At first, I didn’t spend the $5.00 per/wk. Until I got a record player for Christmas. The first record I purchased was the 45rpm single, Rock with You, by Michael Jackson. After liking the A and B side songs, I bought the whole album Off the Wall the following Saturday and drove my parent’s crazy playing it repetitively.

Mom introduced me to the artists they had collected over the years to broaden my music knowledge or to hear something more to her taste. It was different this time, though; not only did she play songs from her regular playlist, but she played the untouchables. The rare original recordings. The ones she only played during family get-togethers. I was amazed by the greatest hits of Nat King Cole, Mahalia Jackson, Chuck Berry, and others whose names escape me now. She had albums galore, familiar rock, gospel, and what seemed like the early introduction of junkyard. She also had recordings of standup comedians. I was surprised that she played some of the artists she was with because their lyrics were risqué. Usually, I wasn’t allowed to listen. Most of their collections were purchased after attending live concerts, and she shared the stories also.

Everyone influences our lives, mannerisms, and interest that we come in contact with somehow. My son told me that to get to know someone, you should observe the five people close to that individual. The five people in our inner circle influence us the most. I grew up an only child, so my circle was small. It was created and controlled by my parents. I didn’t feel lonely or realize the lengths they went to for my education, enjoyment, and amusement until I was an adult. Looking back on things, I was pampered and probably slightly spoiled. My parents were not wealthy, but I think they felt guilty because their close friends all had more than one child. After Gloria’s accidental death, my parents fostered twin brothers on an emergency basis for about eleven months but never adopted them.

Here I go again… just free writing, blending thoughts, and trying to explain why. Why I am the quirky babbler, you see before you.

Picking back up the original story…

I was born in 1966, making me a Generation X member. Gen X falls between Baby Boomers and Millennials. That means free-loving hippies and the tech-savvy influence us. Gen X is often called the Latchkey generation because many stay home parents were forced to take jobs to make ends meet. Sometimes latchkey kids found their way to gangs or did whatever they needed to feel protected. On the same note, some latchkey kids learned to entertain themselves without getting in trouble. My parents made sure I was never left alone. My mom was scared even to let me ride the school bus without her. Knowing that she couldn’t board Mrs. Brown’s school bus every morning, she became a school bus driver by the summer between Kindergarten and First grade. This made a long day for me. Leaving home at 6 a.m. and not returning in the evening until almost 5 p.m.

I found ways to occupy the time I spent riding on every route. The high schoolers went first so I would draw or write. As long as I can remember, I had a vivid imagination and could write a story about anything. I'd have a great book if I saved the things that childhood Kimberly wrote or drew. No one will probably believe me, but my third-grade futuristic language arts report was the idea of roller skate wheels that retract in tennis shoes. Like many things I wrote when I was younger, it was to satisfy some writing assignment, and after I finished it, I dismissed it. A mean kid once took my notebook and, after looking thru it, asked… WHY? I replied I find writing enjoyable it makes me feel alive!