I was born in Sturgis, South Dakota just in time for a number
of events that are now part of the history of this country.
I lived in Rapid City, South Dakota until my mother moved us
to Iowa after her divorce from her second husband.
One of my first memories is when I was 3 months old. I
remember a babysitter that I had who used to listen to the radio and sing and
dance in front of me. I don’t know why my brain decided to hang onto this
memory, unless it was because my father had an affair with that babysitter and
I may have connected that memory to the fact that my father left us and moved
back to Iowa when I was about 1 year old.
When I was 4 years old, it seemed I had a knack for getting
myself into trouble.
One day I decided that if my older brother could go to
school, I should be able to go to school also.
I walked down a steep hill called Signal Heights. There was
no sidewalk that I remember. I think I must have walked along the shoulder of
the road.
One of the teachers found me wandering around the hallway
and asked me what I was doing. I told her that I was looking for my brother. He
was very angry with me and embarrassed I think. The principal took us home in
his VW Bug.
My stepfather grounded me for two weeks for that adventure.
A few months later, I heard a train in the distance. I
decided that I was going to go and catch that train. I grabbed my 2-year-old
brother by the hand, said “Come on David, we’re going to catch a train,” and we headed down the sidewalk.
As we were nearing a busy intersection, a nice man, who was
working in his yard, stopped us and asked where we were going.
“We’re going to catch a train,” I replied.
He started asking a lot of questions about my mother and
father and offered us a glass of water. While we were drinking the water, his
maid went into the house and called my mother at her workplace.
The nice man kept talking to us until my brother, a neighbor
and his son arrived to take us home. I started screaming and throwing a fit. I
didn’t want to go home. My neighbor spanked me a bit and then made me return
home.
When I got home, my stepfather used one of his creative
punishment methods. He made me kneel in front of him and confess my crime. Then
he made me kneel in a corner for a while so I could think of what I had done. After
he decided he had punished me long enough, he sent me to take a nap. I was
awakened by him hitting me on the legs with a bamboo stick and saying, “Tell
your mother what you did!”
It seemed that being punished never did stop me from doing
what I wanted to do. Sometimes it just made me want to do it even more.
In the 1960s men rarely had long hair. On the television we
were starting to see more and more men that had long hair, but they were
usually from the U.K. I asked my mother about their hair and she told me that
they probably wore wigs.
We had a neighbor who I saw one day. He had long hair. I
went over and accused him, “My mother says that you guys wear wigs!”
He told me that it wasn’t a wig, and I could pull his hair
to make sure, but not to pull too hard.
I thought he was trying to fool me and he probably had it
glued on, so I grabbed a big handful and pulled him down to my level. He yelled
and I found out that my mother isn’t always right.
During this time in our history, it was a time when a lot of
people were fighting for equality.
We had a young family, who was African American, move in
next door. They had two children, a boy and a girl who were the same age as my
older brother and I. My brother and I would go over there a lot. We always had
a great time. One of my fondest memories is doing the bunny hop and their
father and mother laughing with us. It was a great day.
Then my stepfather told us that we couldn’t go over there
anymore. I asked why and he made a comment that I won’t repeat here, but it
wasn’t politically correct. I also remember looking at him and thinking that he
was wrong.
I wasn’t going to church then. We didn’t start doing that
until I was older, but I already knew that we are all the same. We want the
same things. We want to be happy and we want to take care of our families and
we want equality. There is no difference.
Later, when we were going to church and I learned a song, “Jesus
Loves the Little Children.” I believed that what I had thought earlier in my
life was correct. And I also figured out that it wasn’t just the children that
he loved. He loves everyone, no matter what color, religion, background or
gender. I also learned, we should Love our Creator, Love Others, Judge
Not, and Help Those Who Can’t Help Themselves. That was enough for me.
Throughout my life, these principals have helped me a lot. I
don’t believe what others say until I investigate for myself and when I do investigate,
I usually find that what others have said is false, especially when it comes to
statements they make about other people.
I thank my Creator that I do have a mind of my own and I
will continue to use it the way I think I should and not allow others to tell me
what I should think.
