I STARTED GETTING BULLIED BY PEERS IN MY OWN AGE GROUP. AFTER A FEW MONTHS THE DUST STARTED TO SETTLE JUST BEFORE MOM AND DAD BOUGHT A HOUSE IN FT. COLLINS. BY THEN, I WAS A KINDERGARTEN VETERAN WHO STARTED IN THE NEW SCHOOL HALF-WAY THROUGH THE YEAR.
MRS. GIDDINGS WAS A MEAN OLD BATTLEAXE. SHE HAD A BAD REPUTATION FOR YELLING AT US YOUNGSTERS. NOT AT ALL LIKE THE ONE I HAD IN LOVELAND. HER NAME ESCAPED ME THROUGH THE YEARS. I DO REMEMBER HER RAISING HER VOICE AT OTHERS, FROM TIME TO TIME. I WAS VERY CAREFUL AROUND HER. SHE SCARED ME ENOUGH TO MAKE MY FIRST YEAR OF SCHOOL A LONG ONE. I HAD NO PROBLEMS WITH SCHOOL THROUGH FIFTH GRADE, ACADEMICALLY. I WAS MAKING GOOD, UNTIL SIXTH, THEN, IS WHEN THE HORRIBLE EVENT TOOK PLACE...
WHEN I WAS EIGHT-YEARS-OLD, MY FAMILY WENT THROUGH A VERY TRAGIC CAR ACCIDENT, AFTER A DAY IN PIERCE, COLORADO. IT WAS PRETTY LATE AT NIGHT WHEN IT WAS TIME TO GO BACK HOME. MOM AND DAD, TO MY RECOLLECTION, JUST “CAME TO” FROM ANOTHER DRUNKEN SESSION WITH FAMILY FRIENDS VIRGIL AND CAROL AND THEIR SON, LARRY-MY BUDDY-AND HIS TWO SISTERS. WE WERE ON THE COUNTY ROAD, PROBABLY AROUND 10:00, OR SO, AT NIGHT. WE WERE ALL PACKED INTO THE OLD CORVAIRE WE HAD AT THE TIME, WITH “THOSE WERE THE DAYS” PLAYING ON THE OLD RADIO. US KIDS WERE HALF-ASLEEP WHEN THE CAR STARTED ROLLING. IT FELT AS THOUGH THE WORLD HAD DECIDED TO EXPLODE. APPARENTLY, THERE WAS A COW IN THE ROAD AHEAD. HE LOST CONTROL AND, AGAIN,
APPARENTLY, THE CAR ROLLED THREE TIMES, RESTING UPSIDE-DOWN. I REMEMBER CRAWLING OUT OVER MY OLDER SISTER, LAURA, AND WALKING TO THE REAR, WHERE DAD WAS SITTING ON A ROCK, WITH LITTLE LISA CRADLED IN HIS LAP. HER EYES WERE OPEN, AND SEEMED TO BE OKAY, SO I BELIEVED SHE WAS, AT LEAST, ALIVE AND AWAKE, SO I THOUGHT SHE WAS OKAY, UNTIL I SAW THE TEARS FLOWING FROM DAD’S EYES.
THERE WERE AT LEAST FOUR TRAGIC AND TRAUMATIC EVENTS THAT OCCURRED THAT HORRIBLE NIGHT. FIRST, OBVIOUSLY, SEEING LISA DEAD, SECONDLY, SEEING MY DAD CRY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY EIGHT YEARS. THIRD, WAS WHEN MY DAD YELLED, AT ME THROUGH TEARS, TO GET BACK INTO THE DEMOLISHED CORVAIRE, AND FINALLY, WAS WHEN MY OLDER SIS, LAURA, SAW ME AND SCREAMED BLOODY MURDER. I GUESS I WAS A MESS, AS WELL. I WAS DEEPLY IN SHOCK; UNABLE TO MAKE ANY SENSE OUT OF THE TERRIBLE SERIES OF EVENTS THAT WERE, SOMEHOW, I LATER BELIEVED, LESSONS EXTREME ENOUGH TO TEACH ME SOMETHING I COULD NOT COMPREHEND, AT MY AGE. I NOW BELIEVE THAT THIS PARTICULAR “LESSON” WAS TO SHOW ME THAT LIFE DEFINITELY HAD SOME “DOWNS” MORE SEVERE THAN A MERE ASS-WHIPPING COULD EVEN COME NEAR.
BEING IN SHOCK IS A VERY STRANGE PLACE. I KNOW IT’S A NATURAL DEFENSE MECHANISM WHICH ALLEVIATES MUCH OF THE FEAR AND REALISM OF ANY GIVEN TRAGIC EVENT. I HONESTLY HAVEN’T DONE MUCH RESEARCH ON THE TOPIC, BUT I’VE EXPERIENCED THE SURREALISM MANY TIMES. IT IS STILL A HORRIBLE PLACE TO BE. IT’S AS IF THE MIND IS SHUTTING DOWN. MOST OF THE MEMORIES COME BACK, YET THE EVENTS PASS THROUGH THE CONSCIENCE TO THE SUB-CONSCIENCE. IT RELEASES INFO TO US IN SMALLER DOSES, OR SOMETHING VERY SIMILAR. IT’S JUST MY THEORY, ALTHOUGH, HAVING EXPERIENCED IT, I THINK I’M NOT TOO FAR OFF.
I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL FOR TWO WEEKS TO THE DAY. I REMEMBER DAD AND MOM WERE DIFFERENT PEOPLE WHEN THEY CAME TO SEE ME. THEY WERE BRINGING ME “GET WELL” GIFTS, ALONG WITH MANY OTHER FRIENDS AND FAMILY. I STILL HAD NO FIRM GRASP ON WHAT LISA’S DEATH WAS ABOUT. THERE WERE SO MANY CHANGES IN THE BEHAVIORS OF EVERYONE, WITH WHOM I HAD ANY CONTACT, AT ALL. I HAD ALL THE ATTENTION ANY KID COULD ASK FOR. FOR A WHILE, LAURA AND I WERE EVEN GETTING ALONG. OUR FAMILY MORPHED INTO A “STEPFORD WIVES” TYPE OF ZOMBIE STATE. WE WERE ALL STILL IN SHOCK.
I WAS FINALLY DISCHARGED FROM THE FLORAL SUITE OF THE HOSPITAL, SPORTING OVER 50 STITCHES AND A SLING. I ARRIVED TO FIND ANOTHER FLORAL DISPLAY AT HOME, WHERE THERE WERE MORE PEOPLE, TOO. IT SEEMS THERE WERE PEOPLE AROUND FOR QUITE A FEW DAYS, THEREAFTER. I DON’T REMEMBER THE DETAILS, OR HAVE I BEEN INTERESTED ENOUGH TO LOOK INTO IT, BUT MY PARENTS GOT AN INSURANCE SETTLEMENT, AFTER SUING THE FARMER FOR HAVING A HOLE IN THE FENCE. I REMEMBER THE NEW FURNITURE, THE NEW CLOTHES, OH, AND OF COURSE, ANOTHER CAR. I BELIEVE IT WAS A BLACK FORD FAIRLANE WAGON. I ALSO REMEMBER DAD GETTING A JEEP, WHICH REMAINED BROKEN DOWN IN THE GARAGE FOR QUITE A WHILE.
DAYS WENT BY, THINGS SEEMED TO BE GETTING BACK TO NORMAL. I BELIEVE I WAS OUT OF SCHOOL FOR A WEEK OR TWO, BEFORE THE INEVITABLE “GREETINGS AND CONDOLENCES CEREMONY” I WAS SO NOT LOOKING FORWARD TO. OF COURSE, THERE WERE NO BANNERS, NOR TRUMPETS. I WAS GETTING A LOT OF ATTENTION, HOWEVER. EVEN THE BULLIES GAVE ME SOME REPRIEVE FROM THE DAILY ANGUISH, DUE TO MY PITIFUL APPEARANCE. “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” IS ALL I REMEMBER HEARING FOR THE REST OF THAT SCHOOL YEAR.
AT HOME, CHANGE. BIG TIME CHANGE. MOM AND DAD STARTED DRINKING EVEN MORE HEAVILY. MOM WAS A VERY MEAN AND OBNOXIOUS DRINKER, WHILE DAD WAS A JOY TO BE AROUND WHILE DRINKING. MOM WORKED IN ABOUT THREE OR FOUR VARIOUS BARS IN FT. COLLINS AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER. I DON’T RECALL ANY PROBLEMS BEFORE THE WRECK, OTHER THAN A FEW SHOUTING SESSIONS, HERE AND THERE. IT REACHED A POINT WHERE MOM WAS COMING HOME FROM THE BAR SHIT FACED, SMELLING HORRIBLE, AND ARMED AND READY FOR A FIGHT. THE FIGHTS WERE NOT USUALLY PHYSICAL, AT FIRST. FOR SOME REASON THEY STILL WERE ENOUGH TO SCARE US KIDS. ALL I CAN SAY IS THAT I WAS TRAUMATIZED BY THE UNPREDICTABILITY ON A NIGHTLY BASIS.
A LITTLE LATER ON, DAD STARTED SHOWING HIS VIOLENT SIDE, BUT USUALLY ONLY WHEN HE WAS SOBER. HE SLAPPED US KIDS AROUND AND HIS YELLING WAS ENOUGH TO SCARE THE HELL OUT OF ME AT THE TIME. I WAS USUALLY HIS MAIN TARGET FOR HIS LITTLE PRESSURE AND INSECURITY RELIEVING SESSIONS. MUCH SUBSTANCE HAS BEEN BLOCKED OUT OF MY HEAD, AND HAS YET TO BE RECOVERED. LET’S JUST SAY, IT TURNED INTO A ROUTINE FOR ANOTHER COUPLE OF YEARS, OR SO, WITH A BEATING TO MY FACE WITH A MAGAZINE ONCE. MY ROOM WASN’T CLEANED WHEN HE ARRIVED HOME FROM WORK.
I REALIZE I AM THROWING THE WORD "TRAUMA" AROUND ALL OVER THE PLACE, BUT IT REALLY WAS TIMES LIKE THIS THAT KIND OF PUSHED LITTLE JOHNNY OVER THE EDGE. THEY WERE HARD LESSONS OF A LIFE, NEITHER OF WHICH I'D \BEEN PREVIOUSLY FAMILIAR, AWARE, NOR PREPARED FOR THE EVENTS THAT CONTINUED TO UNFOLD ON A MORE THAN SEMI-REGULAR BASIS. I was thirteen when I was so kindly and gracefully accepted into two families. I felt (rightly so) that I was not deserving of the hospitality I was so fortunate to have had in my entire life. I showed them how a person can be so negligent in showing how grateful I should have been for what I took for granted. I drank and drank for twenty-five or maybe close to thirty years. I was the town drunk, not too much unlike Otis, from Mayberry, Andy Griffith’s jail’s resident without the humor. There were very few laughs about the behavior I showed. These people were my true family that I eventually, well, let’s just say I deserted. I was also very fortunate to have known the Sanderson Escalantes. They were entirely too hospitable towards me. I was welcomed into both families. I cannot explain the lack of gratitude I want so much to show them. I was reading the Fort Stockton obituaries on two separate occasions, on the internet when I ran across Roman Escalante’s obituary. I cannot explain the genuine pain I felt when I read about this tragic news. A few months later, I also read in the same newspaper, same obituary column about the loss of the man who was my best and basically my only good friend in Fort Stockton, Texas.The man’s name was Albert (Beto)Cantu. Juan and Mary Escalante, Albert’s parents, took me in as if I were family. They became my family. I really have difficulty explaining how much I want to get hold of them. They had previously lost their another son, to the evils of heroin’s lifestyle. He was Pedro Escalante, the oldest son. Previously they lost their so-called maid. For some reason I can’t recall her name at the moment. The Escalante’s also had a daughter named Angie Cantu. She was Albert’s sister. Jaime Cantu, who was their youngest son was another one who was one of the kindest people I ever had the fortune to have had in my life. Yes, one may say I shit on him too. This was entirely too much horrible news I could have read. Without contacting any of these wonderful people, I decided that the Crown Royal would make the news go away. On the back burner, it went. Blue and Indio, Mary’s brothers, and her sisters did not have to show me how much they could love. The day before I left Sanderson, I was talking with Blue outside of their home when he told me, straight out, that if I didn’t call, he was never going to speak to me again. Well guess what? I was, again, reminded of the lack of gratitude that they should have been shown. Today, I have seven years without a drink. I awoke this morning crying like a baby after dreaming about those years. There was one particular
MRS. GIDDINGS WAS A MEAN OLD BATTLEAXE. SHE HAD A BAD REPUTATION FOR YELLING AT US YOUNGSTERS. NOT AT ALL LIKE THE ONE I HAD IN LOVELAND. HER NAME ESCAPED ME THROUGH THE YEARS. I DO REMEMBER HER RAISING HER VOICE AT OTHERS, FROM TIME TO TIME. I WAS VERY CAREFUL AROUND HER. SHE SCARED ME ENOUGH TO MAKE MY FIRST YEAR OF SCHOOL A LONG ONE. I HAD NO PROBLEMS WITH SCHOOL THROUGH FIFTH GRADE, ACADEMICALLY. I WAS MAKING GOOD, UNTIL SIXTH, THEN, IS WHEN THE HORRIBLE EVENT TOOK PLACE...
WHEN I WAS EIGHT-YEARS-OLD, MY FAMILY WENT THROUGH A VERY TRAGIC CAR ACCIDENT, AFTER A DAY IN PIERCE, COLORADO. IT WAS PRETTY LATE AT NIGHT WHEN IT WAS TIME TO GO BACK HOME. MOM AND DAD, TO MY RECOLLECTION, JUST “CAME TO” FROM ANOTHER DRUNKEN SESSION WITH FAMILY FRIENDS VIRGIL AND CAROL AND THEIR SON, LARRY-MY BUDDY-AND HIS TWO SISTERS. WE WERE ON THE COUNTY ROAD, PROBABLY AROUND 10:00, OR SO, AT NIGHT. WE WERE ALL PACKED INTO THE OLD CORVAIRE WE HAD AT THE TIME, WITH “THOSE WERE THE DAYS” PLAYING ON THE OLD RADIO. US KIDS WERE HALF-ASLEEP WHEN THE CAR STARTED ROLLING. IT FELT AS THOUGH THE WORLD HAD DECIDED TO EXPLODE. APPARENTLY, THERE WAS A COW IN THE ROAD AHEAD. HE LOST CONTROL AND, AGAIN,
APPARENTLY, THE CAR ROLLED THREE TIMES, RESTING UPSIDE-DOWN. I REMEMBER CRAWLING OUT OVER MY OLDER SISTER, LAURA, AND WALKING TO THE REAR, WHERE DAD WAS SITTING ON A ROCK, WITH LITTLE LISA CRADLED IN HIS LAP. HER EYES WERE OPEN, AND SEEMED TO BE OKAY, SO I BELIEVED SHE WAS, AT LEAST, ALIVE AND AWAKE, SO I THOUGHT SHE WAS OKAY, UNTIL I SAW THE TEARS FLOWING FROM DAD’S EYES.
THERE WERE AT LEAST FOUR TRAGIC AND TRAUMATIC EVENTS THAT OCCURRED THAT HORRIBLE NIGHT. FIRST, OBVIOUSLY, SEEING LISA DEAD, SECONDLY, SEEING MY DAD CRY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY EIGHT YEARS. THIRD, WAS WHEN MY DAD YELLED, AT ME THROUGH TEARS, TO GET BACK INTO THE DEMOLISHED CORVAIRE, AND FINALLY, WAS WHEN MY OLDER SIS, LAURA, SAW ME AND SCREAMED BLOODY MURDER. I GUESS I WAS A MESS, AS WELL. I WAS DEEPLY IN SHOCK; UNABLE TO MAKE ANY SENSE OUT OF THE TERRIBLE SERIES OF EVENTS THAT WERE, SOMEHOW, I LATER BELIEVED, LESSONS EXTREME ENOUGH TO TEACH ME SOMETHING I COULD NOT COMPREHEND, AT MY AGE. I NOW BELIEVE THAT THIS PARTICULAR “LESSON” WAS TO SHOW ME THAT LIFE DEFINITELY HAD SOME “DOWNS” MORE SEVERE THAN A MERE ASS-WHIPPING COULD EVEN COME NEAR.
BEING IN SHOCK IS A VERY STRANGE PLACE. I KNOW IT’S A NATURAL DEFENSE MECHANISM WHICH ALLEVIATES MUCH OF THE FEAR AND REALISM OF ANY GIVEN TRAGIC EVENT. I HONESTLY HAVEN’T DONE MUCH RESEARCH ON THE TOPIC, BUT I’VE EXPERIENCED THE SURREALISM MANY TIMES. IT IS STILL A HORRIBLE PLACE TO BE. IT’S AS IF THE MIND IS SHUTTING DOWN. MOST OF THE MEMORIES COME BACK, YET THE EVENTS PASS THROUGH THE CONSCIENCE TO THE SUB-CONSCIENCE. IT RELEASES INFO TO US IN SMALLER DOSES, OR SOMETHING VERY SIMILAR. IT’S JUST MY THEORY, ALTHOUGH, HAVING EXPERIENCED IT, I THINK I’M NOT TOO FAR OFF.
I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL FOR TWO WEEKS TO THE DAY. I REMEMBER DAD AND MOM WERE DIFFERENT PEOPLE WHEN THEY CAME TO SEE ME. THEY WERE BRINGING ME “GET WELL” GIFTS, ALONG WITH MANY OTHER FRIENDS AND FAMILY. I STILL HAD NO FIRM GRASP ON WHAT LISA’S DEATH WAS ABOUT. THERE WERE SO MANY CHANGES IN THE BEHAVIORS OF EVERYONE, WITH WHOM I HAD ANY CONTACT, AT ALL. I HAD ALL THE ATTENTION ANY KID COULD ASK FOR. FOR A WHILE, LAURA AND I WERE EVEN GETTING ALONG. OUR FAMILY MORPHED INTO A “STEPFORD WIVES” TYPE OF ZOMBIE STATE. WE WERE ALL STILL IN SHOCK.
I WAS FINALLY DISCHARGED FROM THE FLORAL SUITE OF THE HOSPITAL, SPORTING OVER 50 STITCHES AND A SLING. I ARRIVED TO FIND ANOTHER FLORAL DISPLAY AT HOME, WHERE THERE WERE MORE PEOPLE, TOO. IT SEEMS THERE WERE PEOPLE AROUND FOR QUITE A FEW DAYS, THEREAFTER. I DON’T REMEMBER THE DETAILS, OR HAVE I BEEN INTERESTED ENOUGH TO LOOK INTO IT, BUT MY PARENTS GOT AN INSURANCE SETTLEMENT, AFTER SUING THE FARMER FOR HAVING A HOLE IN THE FENCE. I REMEMBER THE NEW FURNITURE, THE NEW CLOTHES, OH, AND OF COURSE, ANOTHER CAR. I BELIEVE IT WAS A BLACK FORD FAIRLANE WAGON. I ALSO REMEMBER DAD GETTING A JEEP, WHICH REMAINED BROKEN DOWN IN THE GARAGE FOR QUITE A WHILE.
DAYS WENT BY, THINGS SEEMED TO BE GETTING BACK TO NORMAL. I BELIEVE I WAS OUT OF SCHOOL FOR A WEEK OR TWO, BEFORE THE INEVITABLE “GREETINGS AND CONDOLENCES CEREMONY” I WAS SO NOT LOOKING FORWARD TO. OF COURSE, THERE WERE NO BANNERS, NOR TRUMPETS. I WAS GETTING A LOT OF ATTENTION, HOWEVER. EVEN THE BULLIES GAVE ME SOME REPRIEVE FROM THE DAILY ANGUISH, DUE TO MY PITIFUL APPEARANCE. “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” IS ALL I REMEMBER HEARING FOR THE REST OF THAT SCHOOL YEAR.
AT HOME, CHANGE. BIG TIME CHANGE. MOM AND DAD STARTED DRINKING EVEN MORE HEAVILY. MOM WAS A VERY MEAN AND OBNOXIOUS DRINKER, WHILE DAD WAS A JOY TO BE AROUND WHILE DRINKING. MOM WORKED IN ABOUT THREE OR FOUR VARIOUS BARS IN FT. COLLINS AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER. I DON’T RECALL ANY PROBLEMS BEFORE THE WRECK, OTHER THAN A FEW SHOUTING SESSIONS, HERE AND THERE. IT REACHED A POINT WHERE MOM WAS COMING HOME FROM THE BAR SHIT FACED, SMELLING HORRIBLE, AND ARMED AND READY FOR A FIGHT. THE FIGHTS WERE NOT USUALLY PHYSICAL, AT FIRST. FOR SOME REASON THEY STILL WERE ENOUGH TO SCARE US KIDS. ALL I CAN SAY IS THAT I WAS TRAUMATIZED BY THE UNPREDICTABILITY ON A NIGHTLY BASIS.
A LITTLE LATER ON, DAD STARTED SHOWING HIS VIOLENT SIDE, BUT USUALLY ONLY WHEN HE WAS SOBER. HE SLAPPED US KIDS AROUND AND HIS YELLING WAS ENOUGH TO SCARE THE HELL OUT OF ME AT THE TIME. I WAS USUALLY HIS MAIN TARGET FOR HIS LITTLE PRESSURE AND INSECURITY RELIEVING SESSIONS. MUCH SUBSTANCE HAS BEEN BLOCKED OUT OF MY HEAD, AND HAS YET TO BE RECOVERED. LET’S JUST SAY, IT TURNED INTO A ROUTINE FOR ANOTHER COUPLE OF YEARS, OR SO, WITH A BEATING TO MY FACE WITH A MAGAZINE ONCE. MY ROOM WASN’T CLEANED WHEN HE ARRIVED HOME FROM WORK.
I REALIZE I AM THROWING THE WORD "TRAUMA" AROUND ALL OVER THE PLACE, BUT IT REALLY WAS TIMES LIKE THIS THAT KIND OF PUSHED LITTLE JOHNNY OVER THE EDGE. THEY WERE HARD LESSONS OF A LIFE, NEITHER OF WHICH I'D \BEEN PREVIOUSLY FAMILIAR, AWARE, NOR PREPARED FOR THE EVENTS THAT CONTINUED TO UNFOLD ON A MORE THAN SEMI-REGULAR BASIS. I was thirteen when I was so kindly and gracefully accepted into two families. I felt (rightly so) that I was not deserving of the hospitality I was so fortunate to have had in my entire life. I showed them how a person can be so negligent in showing how grateful I should have been for what I took for granted. I drank and drank for twenty-five or maybe close to thirty years. I was the town drunk, not too much unlike Otis, from Mayberry, Andy Griffith’s jail’s resident without the humor. There were very few laughs about the behavior I showed. These people were my true family that I eventually, well, let’s just say I deserted. I was also very fortunate to have known the Sanderson Escalantes. They were entirely too hospitable towards me. I was welcomed into both families. I cannot explain the lack of gratitude I want so much to show them. I was reading the Fort Stockton obituaries on two separate occasions, on the internet when I ran across Roman Escalante’s obituary. I cannot explain the genuine pain I felt when I read about this tragic news. A few months later, I also read in the same newspaper, same obituary column about the loss of the man who was my best and basically my only good friend in Fort Stockton, Texas.The man’s name was Albert (Beto)Cantu. Juan and Mary Escalante, Albert’s parents, took me in as if I were family. They became my family. I really have difficulty explaining how much I want to get hold of them. They had previously lost their another son, to the evils of heroin’s lifestyle. He was Pedro Escalante, the oldest son. Previously they lost their so-called maid. For some reason I can’t recall her name at the moment. The Escalante’s also had a daughter named Angie Cantu. She was Albert’s sister. Jaime Cantu, who was their youngest son was another one who was one of the kindest people I ever had the fortune to have had in my life. Yes, one may say I shit on him too. This was entirely too much horrible news I could have read. Without contacting any of these wonderful people, I decided that the Crown Royal would make the news go away. On the back burner, it went. Blue and Indio, Mary’s brothers, and her sisters did not have to show me how much they could love. The day before I left Sanderson, I was talking with Blue outside of their home when he told me, straight out, that if I didn’t call, he was never going to speak to me again. Well guess what? I was, again, reminded of the lack of gratitude that they should have been shown. Today, I have seven years without a drink. I awoke this morning crying like a baby after dreaming about those years. There was one particular
