I love my life, but I’ve always wondered if it liked me. My name is D, and these stories are my biography from my stand point. I’ve given my siblings names by the first initial of their names. I’m proud of being able to recall most of these intimate events that I have witnessed these 68 years. It is my hope first and foremost, that these will be therapeutic to me, and perhaps entertainment or sleeping material for others. I hope you all enjoy… my story.

I’ve always been one of a passive nature. I hate conflict immensely. I have sought out easier ways to work through my issues in hopes that they would eventually would. Apparently I was wrong. Ehhh, a first time for everything. Right?

I was raised on a farm not far south in a rural area of Los Lunas, New Mexico. As I’ve gone through multiple photos of me and my siblings, I’m surprised that I call recall the events.

Such was it, when my mother’s parents were living in a small bungalow house across from the main house. They had stayed for sometime and wanted to return to their home in Utah. Prior to driving off, I distinctly remember being in someone’s arms, and my Grandmother asked me what was going to do when they left. My very first words were, I’ll probably go with you. Everyone was stunned with my new vocabulary.

My first 5 years were adventuresome, like riding our horse to the feeding trough for the cows and locking his head in brace while he munched on the green hay.

Another famed (in my eyes) event was when one Sunday afternoon, my cousins had come over. We all went to adjacent house that was run down and where we stored bushel baskets of picked apples. Anyway, the guys had a station wagon and had piled in to go back to the main house. A couple of them had put down the tailgate and sat on it as they drove back. Mind you, in my mind I was very much older than I was then and demanded to be treated as such. They refused to let me ride with them, and drove off leaving me behind. I was furious and threw an A-#1 tantrum. I don’t know how long I was doing that but soon I saw my Dad walking towards me with a flimsy willow branch in his hand. He did not look very happy at all. By the time he got to me I had kind of settled down, only momentarily, because in my overalls, he laid into me with that whip a few times and told me to get home and go to my room. The road must have been 1-2 city blocks long, and I ran the entire way with a new reason to cry. I laid on my bed and exhausted, fell to sleep quickly. I probably woke 6 hours later.

I recall my older brothers and friends building a fort by stacking bales of straw in a fashion to make a tunnel followed with a room. We all would go in there and giggle. That is until someone whipped out some match sticks to lighten the dark room. That was it for me. I think the stack was rearranged differently after that.

Even though I was small, I sought out my father in the fields wanting to help in anyway that I could. I watched him open the flood gate to run down the troughs to irrigate the fields via a long tin pipe, which he skillfully worked at till he had created a suction to run through the fields. I’d often be out running around, trying not to get into trouble, but that flood gate interested me. So, I strained a lot to turn that screw gate, to see what would happen. Well, water came through it. Satisfied I tried to close it and was not successful. So I ran away hoping that someone else would fix it.

There was a problem though. You see in New Mexico and Arizona there are numerous water canals that fed everyone’s acreage. Dad was the water boss for the area and he would walk up and down our canal making sure everyone had their allotted share of water. I screwed that up!

From my early youth, we’d go around playing and eating any fruit we could find. The small yellow plums were so juicy and sweet. In contrast, when the apples ripened or didn’t I find myself with a bellyache. Mom wanted to serve asparagus for dinner and asked me to walk down the fence line and pick her some. No problem. I’d done it several times before until, I was hunkered down down looking for those luscious tips popping out of the soil when, I met with a large rattle snake. Once again screaming I ran to my mom for safety.

I must have been 2 when I accompanied mom to a floral shop. As she discussed what she was looking for, I got bored and decided it was lunch time. I quickly started opening mom’s dress trying to find gold in her breasts. For years after, the story would be told followed with, he was never weened. No I was not, and still aren’t!

Dad and Mom decided to pursue another venture from farming, so they least out the farm and we moved to Oklahoma. I hadn’t lost my sense of adventure and mayhem. There was a little grocery store a couple of blocks away. I was 6 , and had received a better awareness of life. As children, we were mainly interested in candy. The main currency was Pennie’s, nickels, and dimes. One of the main goals was to locate soda bottles, to cash them in for… candy. I loved this store! One day I was walking past it, when I noticed a stack of soda bottles on the back porch. Bingo! I had struck it rich! I took a couple of bottles back into the store, not realizing where they came from. Heck, for all I knew, someone through them out. I mean really, finders keepers, losers weepers! I did alright for a few days till the owner got savvy to my frequent trips and put them inside the store. Dang! Busted!

Another day, and I could never dream this one up, I found a blank check laying on the ground somewhere. I had a vague understanding how it worked. I could read after all! So, thinking things through thoroughly, I got a pen and filled each space out. Except where you write out the amount you wanted and the cashier would give you cash in return. So, I politely put a 1, followed by lines of zeros ( millions of dollars I guess) and proudly marched into my candy store and presented the owner with my check requesting cash back. There was another person in there with him, to which I was laughed (I don’t mean a little laugh!) hysterically out of the store. Dang, screwed up again.

At the same house, I can’t believe this one, my mother had had a visitor at our house. Inasmuch as our family, for religious reasons, did not smoke. This lady politely asked mom for an ash tray. I remember seeing one, I think for visitors. Anyway, I sat as they talked and was fascinated by what this lady was doing. She was blowing on this thing, and it would glow red hot followed by her flicking the ashes in the ash tray. I was in awe, but I had other things today playing, so I left. Later that afternoon, coming in, I walked past this rolling serving cart, only to see the pack of cigarettes the lady had left behind. Wow! Another scheme to concoct.

The next day with no witnesses around, I stole one from the packet and a couple of matches and ran outside. Oooh, I was excited to try something new! I thought it through, put the cigarette between my lips, as I observed. I lite a match to put it next to the tip. The match went out, I was to slow. I took the other match and carefully this time lite it, and quickly put it to the tip, and ….blew. That’s exactly what I observed the lady doing. Crap! It must be a defective one because it would not light!

I stealthily made my way back in and quietly and quickly grabbed another, and swiftly went out of the kitchen screen door. Once again, I followed my same routine, except I figured my mistake must have been that I didn’t blow hard enough. What in the hell! How could I possibly find 2 cigarettes in the same pack, that didn’t work? I was truly determined, and kept trying until I noticed there were only a couple cigarettes left. Oh, no! Why oh why was that entire pack defective? So I left a small mound of match sticks, and defective cigarettes by the side of the house on the ground and gave up. I don’t think I was ever caught, but surprisingly later I learned that you were supposed to suck on it, not blow! What stupid kid I was!

The year 1963 had so many variables to it. I remember when President Kennedy was murdered and escorted through Washington DC. This was a very sad and somber time for sure. I didn’t really know what he did, but he didn’t deserve his fate!

It was also a time when I lost my childhood of playing and mischief to being a somber self contained adult.

My older brother B and I were riding our bikes around the neighborhood, when we came upon a dried up creek bed with tall bushes on each side. We parked our bikes and walked at looking for anything. We were bored!

As we fooled around, for some reason, B asked me if I’d ever seen someone else’s penis. I said not really, wherein he asked me to touch his . I was a naive and innocent child up until he then asked me to put his penis in my mouth.

It seemed like my world completely changed. It happened for only a few seconds, but I knew something was seriously wrong. As we rode home, and the weeks passed, I was plagued with that memory.

My birthday was coming up in a couple of months, and I became concerned. I had found out what sin was. They say that the age of accountability is 8 years old. I don’t believe that to be true, unless every child has been put through what I have been.

My Dad came to me to talk about my upcoming baptism.. I had a pretty good idea what it was all about.

After we had moved there, I became excited with the thought that I would be the very first person to be baptized in the chapel my Dad was building for our Church.

He had checked the progress of the construction and found there was no way it would be completed in time for my birthday.

He asked me if I’d like to wait for the project to be completed, like 8-10 months. I firmly said, NO! I wanted to be baptized right around my 8th birthday.

I was so hoping that this event that had changed my soul, would also change me back, or as I had been taught, my sins would be washed away. To this day, 60 years later, I don’t believe that at all. I waited and waited, but only found that that bad luck followed me throughout my life.

The things in my life went from bad to worse. With the completion of the chapel in Iowa, my Dad was notified that his next project was in northern Minnesota. It sounded very exciting to me.

Mom and Dad were able to rent a lovely 2 story home. It was a Craftsman design with lovely wood work throughout. It was around Halloween or early November as my sisters and I were playing upstairs.

I noticed that my older siblings were not around. My curiosity got to me, so I started looking around for them. The first place was a bedroom across the hall from where we were playing.

I tried to open the door, but it was locked. Ah ha! As kids, we wanted to see what was going on and asked if we could come in.

That’s when I heard distinctly, “where are my panties!” coming from my older sister J. The 3 of them came out and got pummeled by curious kids.

Mom came home after a bit. The first ones to tell were B and E, and then…it was me. She was tired and had gone to bed. She called me into her bedroom and began asking me to recount what I heard. It was simple! Over and done.

I knew that still had ‘the’ issue on my mind, and this only made things worse. Not in the dramatic sense, more of an understanding. As I mentioned in J’s story, it was the 60’s and no one then knew how to cope or educate their children. You see it dramatized on TV constantly, and it was funny. The reality of though, was that it was a disastrous time on families. You know, something like sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

We all survived another 2 years, and then I saw it begin to destroy J. I remember my own meanness in using her popular 45’s for frisbees. When they hit the concrete streets they went into several pieces. When she got upset about it, my heart sank, and I apologized to her.

The only real highlight of this year was when Dad invited me to go with him during my school winter break to Arizona. As a newer pilot, he found a short term job flying for the Navajo Reservation. I was really at ease, kind of like a huge sigh of relief from my life.

We made a few trips to Phoenix and around northern Arizona. Before we came there ( it was an apartment in the small airport terminal), he asked to bring my sled. One late afternoon he told me to grab my sled, so we could go have fun. He had a rope tied to his pickup bumper, with the other end to the front of my sled.

Since it was a small airport that only operated during daylight, we decided to go sledding back and forth down the runway. It was freezing cold, and there was a snow/ ice mixture on the runway, so it was perfect. Oh yeah, it was freezing cold. But, we did a lot of laughing as we headed in. I would not recommend ever trying it again, because it was foolish danger. The main thing that reminds me of that time, was listening to Frank Sinatra singing “My Life”. I love it so much, because it shows me how much I loved him.

My oldest brother B seemed to be off in his own world. He was a senior and consequently had more freedom to do what he wanted. I recall finding a condom opened in his under drawer. Then came the Playboy magazine, and finally the back rubs. He’d pay each of us young ones to rub his back for nickels and dimes. We were once again innocent.

The final straw to me, was when he took me back into this crawl space, at the end of our closet. He told me to keep quiet and not to say anything. So I diligently tried. We approached a wall with pipes and wire coming from it. He said once again to stay quiet, and carefully put his finger into a dark hole, and pushed something forward. He watched for a bit and told me to shut up and look. I snickered, but only in being nervous. He had me look from the back of a pipe escutcheon, to find J bathing in the bath tub. I wanted to throw up.

I heard him talking to his girlfriend and wondering how that was going during his senior year of high school.

After graduating, Dad flew him to a 2 year school in Idaho. It was truly a relief to me. That hormones flying between him and G had stopped too.

My next experience was around 1968, during the Viet Nam war. So many people died unnecessarily. I remember seeing President Johnson decline a nomination for reelection. He didn’t want anyone else pointing their finger at him.

G was doing well in high school. He was fascinated by math. I had no idea why he became the smart one in the family.

My parents decided that they really wanted to move back to Iowa, where we lived in 1963. I had spent a few weeks with Dad while the others were making multiple trips back and forth from Kansas. I became a nervous wreck one night, because I knew that Dad had a trip the next day and I really wanted to go. It took every ounce of courage I had, to ask if I could join him. I got all worked up for nothing, he said ‘sure’, he had planned on it all week.

The following year both B and G joined the family. I think G had been at college, and with them together, things started happening at home. I think my parents were definitely afraid, and didn’t want me exposed to the inevitable, their fighting.

I don’t remember the day, but apparently they were on the phone one night with Dad’s cousin in Arizona. The next morning, after sleeping on Mom and Dads bedroom floor, I was rushed to get up, bathed, and packed because I was heading to Chicago with Dad to catch a TWA flight to Phoenix. This was to be my first time traveling alone. I was confident in going, but a little scared too.

I was scheduled to spend the summer with Dad’s cousins family in northern Arizona. Then to take a bus to Utah, where Dad would meet me, to go to my grandparents. I can’t remember the rest of the trip.

The next year B got married to a very troubled girl. There were many tragic years for them. About 5-7 years later, I quit my job in Utah to join him in his company. I mostly enjoyed the experience, but once again, it was all about him. He focused his energy being selfish, while I was thrown into refining my trade.

I moved on looking for more substantial employment. I decided to go back to driving a charter bus, from my experience in Utah in 1978. It didn’t last very long because I was gone to much and Cathy tried to help, but was absolutely not savvy to working.

We pursued being an apartment manager, with Cathy handling the office and I was doing the maintenance. I took a second job working for Quik Trip. On my last day of employment, I was caught watching Cathy’s brother play pinball games in the early morning following his shift. Busted! and get out!

There were no jobs in Iowa. I was asked to move Priscilla, Cathy’s sister to Texas, as her husband Bill had found me a starter job. During my first 2 weeks, I was moved from patching drywall, to building swim pools. During that time, I was asked to run an errand for my boss, and upon my return was informed I now had Bill’s job.

I had a phenomenal time there, but we all were starving on $5.00 an hour. During that period, I became less and less involved with Cathy. I don’t remember her pregnancy with Marianne. I had gotten involved with a few women (see Kathy, Mary, and Pat)selfishly, and grew to hate her more from her slovenly appearance, her lack of becoming employable, and more so, that she had no desire to help get us out of debt and grow our family instead of making it worse. Soon, I told her I wanted out and left.

My affair made it possible to move in with Pat. She was excited I think. She now had a full time boyfriend toy. She had a prejudice and hateful streak at times that I really didn’t care for. She was the boss, and that was that. It wasn’t to hard to leave her after my proposal followed by a no!

Wesley, although my new landlord and boss, was always good to me. He drew me in like a brother, and we stayed friends till he went back to Taiwan. He introduced me to Susan, whom I loved immensely. I do so regret my foolishness in messing around and leaving her.

The most horrible thing was becoming involved with Nanette. All I can say is that she was totally screwed up in every way. She drained my bank account on foolish things, dragged me down emotionally, and left a huge hole in my happiness that lasted 12 years.

During the summer of 2008 after leaving Nanette, I was living with Mom and Dick in Minnesota while not traveling for work. Mom was quick to tell me to get back on the horse again, and find someone else.

Strangely, I was on line seeing what was out there, and found a pretty gal named Stacy. She had been an elementary teacher for 20-30 years…..in Texas, in my old Stake, and as a child, grew up near where Dick was from. Her mother passed away from cancer, and Stacy requested that Dick’s wife, a renowned singer, to sing at the funeral.

It was almost to good to be true. As we visited and made comparisons, it became an easy fit between us. We dated of and on for a few months. We talked about getting married the following year. Unfortunately something happened and she backed out. I was pretty hurt, and rebounded to Charlotte.

She was a close backup to nutty Nanette. She was always self centered on her own image. A true narcissist. Eight years I put up with her shit.

Several months before I had had enough, I suggested we go on a cruise to Alaska. She sent out invitations to her parents and siblings to join us, but only her younger brother and his wife joined us.

I have no idea what kind of bullshit their father put them through, but it was never about relaxing and enjoying the trip. It was all about self gratification and their image. Whatever the hell that was.

I actually used the trip to try and find a common bond to hold our marriage in place. I would not compete against all of their common traits. All of the siblings were hotheaded and only wanted what they could take. Even gifts went out with strings attached.

Once I told her about the trip, she drained our account and ran up my credit to make her look cool. When we got home, it wasn’t but a few weeks until I had had enough and left. But not without getting a bunch of disgruntled lies spread about me.

This is the one time, that I actually deserved to have an affair with Alissa. She is so compassionate, loving, kind, thoughtful, beautiful, and very smart!