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I never knew my dad; he left when I was two; Mom worked as a cashier at the grocery store during the day, 3 nights a week she sold tickets at the theater. I was at Gramma and Grampa's when I wasn't in school.
I wasn't into sports, it wasn't because I wasn't strong, I just wasn't interested, and I was somewhat awkward; likely because I didn't like sports; yes, I was the one who got picked last.
I'm that kid, the one in grade school that wore hand me downs, patches on my knees, carried my books without a backpack, lunch in a tin box.
I walked with my head down, avoiding eye contact. Taking routes hoping not to see any bullies; but most days they found me, called me names, pushed me, shoved me.
I had no friends, I rode my old bike, I avoided others. I just read, what else can a kid do alone? Gramma and gramps were too old to play outside. Gramma would knit or cook, Gramps did word puzzles and watched game shows. I knew my family loved me; I wasn't hungry.
I thought I was a happy normal kid, but I never thought about those things; until other kids started telling me I was different, all those degrading remarks took there toll; I started to believe them. I became sad, I seldom went anywhere, hiding at recess, and lunch; rushing away after school before I got tripped, shoved, or punched.
I remember it was a Saturday, school would soon be out for the summer, I was in grade 4. Gramma had been harping on Grampa all week to clean out the garage.
After breakfast he asked me to help.
Grampa would open a cardboard box and tell me.
"Garbage, put it outside; I need to go through that one put it in the center; this ones to keep, set this one over there." By lunch we had a stack of garbage and a bunch to go through.
It was the 3rd box grampa opened.
"Here's a box of your dad's stuff, you can have it, take what you want and garbage the rest." I took it to the lawn and dumped the contents, scattering everything so I could see it all at the same time. I was exciting, I knew nothing about my dad, it was like he never existed, until now; this was my dad. I carefully examined each item.
I found 2 pictures of him; it was the first time I had any image of what he looked like. One of him with Mom in bathing suits at a beach, another of him leaning against an old car in white t shirt and rolled up jeans. He looked like pictures I'd seen of James Dean.
I studied those photos for the best part of an hour, having so many emotional thoughts. Where is he? Is he alive? Why did he leave? They went in my pocket.
I spotted a camera, one of those point and shoot that took a cartridge of film. It appeared to have film in it, and likely was in working condition. Next, I opened a cigar box that must have been his 'favorites' a few very odd marbles, a big clear one, with glittering sparkles inside, a rough wooden one, a couple of all black ones, baseball cards, with cigarette names on them, 3 'Matchbox' cars and a 3 bladed pocketknife. I kept all the magazines and comic books.
That night after supper I showed mom; she told me to check online, that possibly the cars and cards might be valuable. She cried for a long time when she saw the photos, she went to her room right after that, still crying.
That was a defining moment that changed me; a turning point in my life, that a small 3x3 inch picture created so much emotion it made my mom cry. This proud, strong, independent woman who endured everything, my rock, my hero, was crying over a simple image that was captured many years ago.
I recognized that photos were important; I was going to become a photographer.
At breakfast I showed mom the camera, she told me not to open it, there was a film in it, and might still be good.
The next day was Sunday, mom didn't work, we went to church as a family; I sat between mom and gramma. I took a picture of the priest. Gramma pushed my hand down and shook her head. Later that day I finished the film; mom said she would get it developed, but from now on, I needed to pay for new film and developing.
I sold the matchbox cars and had enough for 2 rolls of film and kept some for developing.
I went online and searched for the baseball cards, they weren't ultra rare but had a few dollars value, so I put them back in Dad's cigar box on my dresser.
It was summer holidays; I spent the days riding my bike, taking pictures in the woods, on main street, it was a great summer. The weekend before school started, I was on my last roll of film and not enough money to buy another, I decided to sell the baseball cards, and was waiting for mom to get off work so she could come with me, so the man at the trading shop wouldn't take advantage of a kid.
I was sitting on a bench outside the drug store, next to mom's work. I saw Gracie, I had a bit of a crush on her; she was cute, and one of the few who talked to me. She saw me take her picture, came over and introduced her mom, who asked me to take a couple pics of them together.
A couple days later a policeman knocked on our door, he wanted to see the pictures I took of Gracie. They weren't developed, the police took the film.
A week later, my picture was in the local paper, receiving a $500 reward because my photos led to the arrest of 2 guys, who robbed the drug store, I captured them in the background of Gracie's photo.
My career was started. I bought a better camera, several rolls of film and a subscription to a photography magazine.
In high school, I was a grade A student, the newspaper editor, I took pictures for that and the yearbook. I was still a loner; I wasn't bullied, but my self-confidence had been destroyed in grade school, I never dated. I hid behind my camera and on my computer. I became a talented geek; an artistic photographer; I loved it; I planned my college courses around photography.
In my senior year I upgraded to digital, developed a social media page advertising myself as a photographer; weddings, birthdays, baby pics, portraits, and I was getting 4 or 5 paying jobs a month.
A lot changed after graduation; I received a partial scholarship to a college 2 hours away. I enrolled majoring in arts, following my dream of being a celebrity magazine, or model photographer; but would settle to be a freelance paparazzi, selling my photos to whomever.
I searched online for accommodations near campus. I found an apartment, on Craigslist, walking distance to campus, with a free apartment by taking on the caretaker duties. I got the job and apartment; so, with tuition paid, all I needed now was grocery and spending money. I had my social network photo business and started getting a few local photo shoots. I soon knew everyone already in the apartment, most were students who hadn't arrived yet.
It was my 2nd week in the apartment when Jodi arrived, her mom and brother were helping her move in. I unlocked her apartment, we introduced one another; I gave her my card with my phone number, made her put it on her fridge; and asked.
"Any large items I might help with?"
"Nope, just a double bed, and a futon; we can handle that. Thanks." She was cute, bubbly, overflowing with enthusiasm, she reminded me of Gracie.
It was about 7 pm that night, when I got a frantic call from Jodi.
"HELP, I have a plumbing problem, hurry." I quickly hustled to her apartment; the toilet was overflowing. I shut off the water valve under the tank and asked for some towels. A few towels would be quicker than going for the wet vac. She grabbed a blanket and a couple towels, and I spread them on the floor, wiping up the water, wringing them out and repeating, it was about 20 minutes to wipe up all the spillage. I placed the soaked items in the tub; I saw something red in the toilet, it definitely wasn't feces, so I reached in and pulled out a red bra. I held it up and laughing, said.
"I guess I should have showed you the laundry room; there's no need to wash anything in the toilet."
I looked up, expecting her to be blushing, embarrassed; she lost it, she doubled over; her laughing spell opens her robe; and I was viewing her full naked front. I covered my eyes and turned away; as I stood up, she wrapped and tied her robe.
Now, we were both red faced and blushing.
"I took a shower after mom left, I guess when I grabbed my clothes from the floor, that fell in. Sorry for interrupting your evening."
"It's ok, I actually feel well rewarded. So, uh, thank you." I made a childish happy face.
"Guy, if you're not busy, would you please share a Ziggy with me and a glass of wine; this is my first time away from home; I don't know anyone here; my cable and internet won't be hooked up for a couple days. I'd really like some company."
