I've never swayed on this blog from writing, but I'm about to. I walked through the neighborhood that I grew up in today, and snapped some pics. This is, what it is.
This is my first time commenting on pics inline on my blog.
I moved to this street when I was 4-5 years old. All was not well, but it was. I fear saying much because I desire not to disrespect my family members. However... my brothers and I had the most loving and warm household in this block. Period.
To the right is where I lived. As I was traversing the area today, many feelings and emotions came over me, as did memories. I reflected on the tenseness and violence I faced. It was like it was right there again. I never was a violent person unless provoked, but it was like I was shocked into an understanding of what my past was...
This is looking in the front door. The window in the back was the dining room/ kitchen. Straight up the stairs was the bathroom. Above me is my room, and just to my left above me is where my brothers rested their heads.
Looking in through the back window, this was our kitchen. I remember we had a 19-ancient dishwasher on wheels, that had to be rolled near the sink to be connected. If my boys and I had done something wrong to the point Mom might be upset, we'd unload the dishwasher in the morning for her to show her that we were angels.
Still looking in through the kitchen window. Right below me would have been our kitchen table, and across, the fridge. To the extreme left (unseen) was the back door, and barely visible to the left is the door to the basement. The entry way on the left top is to the living room. I remember one time, that my youngest brother and I got into shit (I think for throwing something at a bus), so we were 'grounded'. This very day I heard from a friend about 'warp zones' on Super Mario Bros.'. So as my middle brother was playing this game in the living room, I'm sitting on the floor by this entrance way, shouting at him what he needs to do in order to get to this 'warp zone' in this game.
We didn't have much. We got our Nintendo from what became our step-father (RIP) long after anyone else did. We were fortunate this way. No one else on our block had anyone like Jim. He wasn't the transient man that every other door in our neighbourhood had. He came for dinner, then left. I respect the man. Moreover, I respect my Mom for instilling in me that a woman deserves respect. She neglected her personal needs for us.
This is looking into the 'back park' from our back yard. Over the years, they removed the yards (we had a decent one then, with a little spruce tree). This is where I learnt how to hop fences. Probably at six-seven years old, I could hop an eight foot fence without barely touching it. Mom didn't want us in the 'back park'. There was commonplace violence, drugs weapons and general child neglect up here. Of course, we learnt early to let Mom be calm by thinking we were good, but the reality of living in this situation turns an honest person into a good liar in a hurry.
My front door. Top right window was my bedroom. The window to the left of that was my beloved children brother's room.
Walking in the 'back park'. I observed that things haven't changed much. There isn't much for children to do. I pulled out my camera and snapped a picture of these young kids (probably 7-9) using a stick to play individual baseball with empty beer cans.
Some writing on the wall.
Continued my walk through what used to be forest and field, but what is now urban development to the rear of my elementary school. I spent kindegarten to grade 8 here. I never was naturally a violent person, and throughout my life, I have only fought for specific reasons. On one day, I was in grade 1, and right about the spot I stand here, I fought a kid named Ronny Reynolds. It was quite vicious. I lost the fight (the only one I will ever admit to 'losing'), but I gained my respect.
Ron lived a few doors down from us, and I had heard that he was going to hurt my brother when he got home. I don't even think my brother was in school yet. So I got my brown ugly cords dirty with him, and went home pretty hurt. Although I conceeded to defeat, I had stood up for my area, and claimed that I will defend my family at all costs.
A few days later, Ronny and I ate peanut butter from a spoon in his kitchen, then went outside and watched a neighbour 'fix' a Camaro that was up on blocks. A common sight.
I don't believe that my brothers know this, but much of my young life was lived watching over and protecting them, so they could have a life in what I knew as hell, which quickly became normal to me. I learnt quickly... I befriended people from all ends of the scale. I never completely got away from the 'poor' taunts, but a few key fights allowed me to 'fit in' so that I wouldn't be bothered again. In grade 6, I met a wonderful girl who I didn't know how to properly respect or understand (who has subsequently become a wonderful woman), and in grade eight, I befriended a couple of the middle-class people who I never would have expected that they'd pay any attention to me.
...and here it is. My school. Where I began my education that made me the terrorist I am.
