Dad went off and called my Mom. I sat in my room, dried my eyes and dreamed of living back in LA with my Mom and Darin, less stress, less fear. So, imagine my surprise when Dad came back into my room and told me it was settled, Darin was moving up to San Jose also. I remember thinking, "well, that wasn't what I thought was happening." People talk about hearing shocking and unexpected news, the dull ringing in your ears. I have to tell you, it really happens, and a certain emotional cloudiness. I remember it from that day in March of 1977.
Darin moved up a couple of weeks after my birthday and told me of Mom's depression and that she had lost the baby and had a nervous breakdown. I did not learn until 20 years later that she had actually had an abortion. I do not often comment on abortion other than to say that I don't know much about it, but I have to say, anyone who thinks this helps or liberates women is lying to themselves and others. I am sure there are people out there who don't think twice about it, but even people like my mom are devastated by this decision. She still can not talk about it without crying. My mom sees literally no moral boundary to anything, but she is deeply shamed by this decision she made 30 years ago. To me, that says volumes.
Darin and I shared a room in San Jose. Although we had three bedrooms, Dad need one for his "studio." He recorded his music in there and Dad saw himself for years as a musician, even though I don't think he had played publicly since before I was born. I assume this is similar to me still calling myself an actor for the twelve years in between stopping pursuing a career and the next time I went on stage (last Christmas, I was terrible). So our lives were a little odd. Dad's girlfriend Carole worked at Apple and sometimes I would get home from school and she would be sitting in the lotus position smoking a bong on the couch. Dad smoked a LOT of weed and we did fun things like they would hook a rope to the bumper of the car and pull us on our skateboards like we were water skiing. We called this concrete skiing, as opposed to concrete surfing which was my description of rolling earthquakes we ould experience from time to time.
Times weren't too bad, a little stressed and I was always fearful as corporal punishment was all my dad understood. Dad and Carole married in April, I was the ring bearer and got a second chance to wear my Polyesther leisure suit. I had a rough time of it in 4th grade, but I really don't remember much about it. We went camping near Lake Tahoe in that spring, we went to the renaissance faire, which I loved and I got to fly to LA to visit with Mom for a couple of weeks alone. Carole sent instructions of how my Mom was supposed to supervise me, which I still find pretty pretentious. My mom was dating one of the special effects guys who worked on "Jaws" and rumor has it I met Steven Spielberg that summer. It was at a pool party, which I remember, but I don't remember him. I wish I did, or more I wish he had remembered me when I grew up to be an actor. I remember LA night-time pool parties, they were fun. All the kids played in the pool, all the parents got drunk. I can still smell the chlorine from the water and feel the slippery wetness of the concrete under my feet and hear Elton John and Kiki Dee singing, "Don't go breaking my heart." I don't know why, it wasn't a special occasion, but I remember that night really well.
My youngest uncle was out of prison at the time and I spent a good deal of time with him and his girlfriend. They took me to the airport with my Mom and somewhere I have a picture of the three of us (Mom probably took the picture) at Hollywood-Burbank airport. They had flowing, feathered 70's hair and I had my tan polyesther leisure suit and patent leather shoes.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
commitment
This week I had two opportunities to see some amateur entertainment and I came away with a stunning revelation. In fairness, it is not new, but it was re-affirmed as I was reminded of the absolute necessity of one factor in all performance. This factor is often lacking in even the most high-paid performers and it shows itself immediately in those who embrace it. This element is commitment.
On Thursday night, we all got together at the local High School for an event I am never looking forward to. I would like to say I am bigger than this and that I always want to see my kids in whatever they do, but its just not true. I find the High School theatre to be cramped, claustrophobic and the people around me to not have the common decency to keep quiet while others are watching a performance. This year, my kids elementary school was putting on their rendition of Seussical the
Musical. My boy was either Thing 1 or Thing 4, there is some confusion on this. We had our kid's friends and our friend's kids in a number of the parts and there were few we did not know in the main parts. So, you will understand that I am not going to be identifying any of the players by either name or character. However, it must be said that most of the kids simply did not commit to their roles, to being on stage, to the fantasy they were trying to put forward. Some were horribly untalented and it made me wonder why they were given the parts. I am not trying to be mean, but if singing is not your thing, a bunch of solos will not help you grow. However, there were three kids in particular whose commitment greatly impressed me. They sold it and I bought it, I was with them in the world of Dr. Seuss and enjoyed their portrayals. Talent is not a factor, they were probably equally talented as some of the other kids, no more no less. But they really dug in and played the roles, sang the songs and danced the dances and I really enjoyed it. I won't disdain the production as much next year due to the performance of 3 individuals ...out of 140.
Then Sunday night came and my church was putting on a fund-raiser of lip-synching. I have to be honest, I really thought it was going to suck something fierce. But I love my church, I adore some of the kids who were performing and I wanted to support the HS group for whom the event was raising money. So, we arrive and I am absolutely stunned to see that a couple of hundred people are loading into the sanctuary for this performance, but we are a supportive bunch and maybe a little starved for entertainment. When the evening began with some kitsch by a couple of High Schoolers as hosts, I thought my worst fears would be realized. But, to my surprise, it was good. Not just the lip sync, but the hosting. I was impressed. And you know what impressed me the most? Commitment! I was particularly impressed with our Pastor doing the Sonny & Cher song, "I got you babe" (yeah, he was Cher and the ugliest woman I have ever seen). There were many stand-outs and I had a great time. My friends' daughter, Abby, did two numbers and fully sold them. Seriously guys, she has a future up on the stage if she wants one. The element which made this so great, in every piece which was (probably 80%, no joke)...Commitment! Each of these people let down their guard and committed to the performance and it made it really, really fun.
I have to tell you, one can change the entire outlook for someone else due to only their commitment. Our talents are fine, our ideas interesting, our work valued, but without commitment, it is meaningless. So, I guess what I want to tell everyone is just this, whatever you do, no matter what, no matter how big or small, seen or unseen, own it. Step in with gusto and give it everything you can. Because there is something amazing and appealing about that.
On Thursday night, we all got together at the local High School for an event I am never looking forward to. I would like to say I am bigger than this and that I always want to see my kids in whatever they do, but its just not true. I find the High School theatre to be cramped, claustrophobic and the people around me to not have the common decency to keep quiet while others are watching a performance. This year, my kids elementary school was putting on their rendition of Seussical the
Musical. My boy was either Thing 1 or Thing 4, there is some confusion on this. We had our kid's friends and our friend's kids in a number of the parts and there were few we did not know in the main parts. So, you will understand that I am not going to be identifying any of the players by either name or character. However, it must be said that most of the kids simply did not commit to their roles, to being on stage, to the fantasy they were trying to put forward. Some were horribly untalented and it made me wonder why they were given the parts. I am not trying to be mean, but if singing is not your thing, a bunch of solos will not help you grow. However, there were three kids in particular whose commitment greatly impressed me. They sold it and I bought it, I was with them in the world of Dr. Seuss and enjoyed their portrayals. Talent is not a factor, they were probably equally talented as some of the other kids, no more no less. But they really dug in and played the roles, sang the songs and danced the dances and I really enjoyed it. I won't disdain the production as much next year due to the performance of 3 individuals ...out of 140.
Then Sunday night came and my church was putting on a fund-raiser of lip-synching. I have to be honest, I really thought it was going to suck something fierce. But I love my church, I adore some of the kids who were performing and I wanted to support the HS group for whom the event was raising money. So, we arrive and I am absolutely stunned to see that a couple of hundred people are loading into the sanctuary for this performance, but we are a supportive bunch and maybe a little starved for entertainment. When the evening began with some kitsch by a couple of High Schoolers as hosts, I thought my worst fears would be realized. But, to my surprise, it was good. Not just the lip sync, but the hosting. I was impressed. And you know what impressed me the most? Commitment! I was particularly impressed with our Pastor doing the Sonny & Cher song, "I got you babe" (yeah, he was Cher and the ugliest woman I have ever seen). There were many stand-outs and I had a great time. My friends' daughter, Abby, did two numbers and fully sold them. Seriously guys, she has a future up on the stage if she wants one. The element which made this so great, in every piece which was (probably 80%, no joke)...Commitment! Each of these people let down their guard and committed to the performance and it made it really, really fun.
I have to tell you, one can change the entire outlook for someone else due to only their commitment. Our talents are fine, our ideas interesting, our work valued, but without commitment, it is meaningless. So, I guess what I want to tell everyone is just this, whatever you do, no matter what, no matter how big or small, seen or unseen, own it. Step in with gusto and give it everything you can. Because there is something amazing and appealing about that.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Part X
So, we had moved to Santa Clara and three weeks later moved to San Jose. I was in the 4th grade and began at Country Lane Elementary School in San Jose. It was the first time that Darin and I had been separated for any period of time and I was lonely. My Dad really saw me as an odd child and constantly derided me for "not being logical", "not being normal" or "being lazy." The last one stuck with me for years and it was told to me so much that I believed it deep down, that I was somehow deficient and did not have what I would later learn was called a work ethic. I would like to say that I am over it, but I still struggle whenever I don't feel like doing something. Even this morning I had to fight myself to go to work.
I also began an unusual habit which lasted for about two years. I would do my homework, but I wouldn't turn it in. My parents talk about this all the time, but I really don't remember it at all. However, my son who is in 5th grade, struggles with the same malady. So, it must be true and apparently, hereditary. I had always been a dreamer and thinker, I still have a huge imagination and quicker processing than one would think having met me. During the previous two years, I had been given multiple IQ tests which were literally "off the charts." Since 1977, I have always seen intelligence as a birth defect. I simply refused to do any work on paper I could do in my head. I think it took me 15 more years to learn to do what was asked of me, even if I feel I don't need it. In 1977, they changed the special classes. Prior to this, I was involved in what was called MGM or Mentally Gifted Minors. They changed the classes to GATE, or Gifted and Talented Education. Unfortunately, they changed the name of Special Ed in the CA school system to MGM. This caused a good deal of misunderstanding.
I was technically not a member of MENSA, at the time they did not permit people of my age into the group, but I was in some form of it which was designed for younger kids. The problem comes with testing. When one is so young, different factors throw off the tests. So, from one test to another, I could vary by 40 points. The tests have their own problems, which I will not get into, but they really test the speed at which you process and due to other elements, I could test as fairly gifted to prodigy. Later in life, I was told I was an analytical prodigy. According to the MENSA folk, there are three types of prodigies, Musical, Analytical and Mathematical (all of these are mathematical, but I digress). The rarest, according to one of my psychiatrists, was analytical. It can be seen as a little creepy and is the most anti-social of the group. The interesting thing about MENSA is that people seem to fall on two sides of the law, about 40% seem to gravitate to the law and about 40% to lawlessness, with the remaining 20% just ordinary folks. The lawless of the analytical prodigies tend toward being sham psychics, fortune tellers and the like. I don't have a theory on whether or not psychic abilities are real, are evil, are good. It is something of which I have never had an interest in pursuing the study.
So, I was a smart kid who was a little odd and did not almost ever do the popular thing, whatever that might be. It drove my teacher nuts and my Dad called my IQ my Idiot Quotient. Dad's contention was there was a direct relevance the the height of the number and my laziness. If you know him, you are probably laughing at the irony.
Anyway, within two months, I had enough. I cried my eyes out one night due to the stress, the excessive discipline and the loneliness. My Dad asked me what the problem was and I told him I wanted to go back to my Mom's. The hurt in his face was too much for me, so when he asked me why, I said (truthfully, but partially)"I miss Darin." And to my surprise, he said, "okay, let me call your Mom."
I also began an unusual habit which lasted for about two years. I would do my homework, but I wouldn't turn it in. My parents talk about this all the time, but I really don't remember it at all. However, my son who is in 5th grade, struggles with the same malady. So, it must be true and apparently, hereditary. I had always been a dreamer and thinker, I still have a huge imagination and quicker processing than one would think having met me. During the previous two years, I had been given multiple IQ tests which were literally "off the charts." Since 1977, I have always seen intelligence as a birth defect. I simply refused to do any work on paper I could do in my head. I think it took me 15 more years to learn to do what was asked of me, even if I feel I don't need it. In 1977, they changed the special classes. Prior to this, I was involved in what was called MGM or Mentally Gifted Minors. They changed the classes to GATE, or Gifted and Talented Education. Unfortunately, they changed the name of Special Ed in the CA school system to MGM. This caused a good deal of misunderstanding.
I was technically not a member of MENSA, at the time they did not permit people of my age into the group, but I was in some form of it which was designed for younger kids. The problem comes with testing. When one is so young, different factors throw off the tests. So, from one test to another, I could vary by 40 points. The tests have their own problems, which I will not get into, but they really test the speed at which you process and due to other elements, I could test as fairly gifted to prodigy. Later in life, I was told I was an analytical prodigy. According to the MENSA folk, there are three types of prodigies, Musical, Analytical and Mathematical (all of these are mathematical, but I digress). The rarest, according to one of my psychiatrists, was analytical. It can be seen as a little creepy and is the most anti-social of the group. The interesting thing about MENSA is that people seem to fall on two sides of the law, about 40% seem to gravitate to the law and about 40% to lawlessness, with the remaining 20% just ordinary folks. The lawless of the analytical prodigies tend toward being sham psychics, fortune tellers and the like. I don't have a theory on whether or not psychic abilities are real, are evil, are good. It is something of which I have never had an interest in pursuing the study.
So, I was a smart kid who was a little odd and did not almost ever do the popular thing, whatever that might be. It drove my teacher nuts and my Dad called my IQ my Idiot Quotient. Dad's contention was there was a direct relevance the the height of the number and my laziness. If you know him, you are probably laughing at the irony.
Anyway, within two months, I had enough. I cried my eyes out one night due to the stress, the excessive discipline and the loneliness. My Dad asked me what the problem was and I told him I wanted to go back to my Mom's. The hurt in his face was too much for me, so when he asked me why, I said (truthfully, but partially)"I miss Darin." And to my surprise, he said, "okay, let me call your Mom."
Thursday, April 24, 2008
no continuation for today
my intention was to blog part X today, but it will have to wait. This morning in Men's group, there was such great sharing, such touching stories and not a few tears shed and I feel a little raw again. My lovely bride has suggested I take the day off and I am just not in a place to dredge this stuff up today. I am sorry, but I think it will have to wait until tomorrow.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Stressing the past
Ack! I have been writing my story for about ten weeks and I have to say, it occasionally makes me feel a little raw. I have really struggled in my relationship with my Dad this week and I don't think it can be removed from my writing about first moving in with him. It was such a hard way to live, such an unsafe and stressful life during those days. It is hard to write about it and not be effected. On top of that, I am again struggling with the fear that I will be just like him, that my kids will not feel safe around me. While my intensity was one of the things that attracted Cathy to me, it definitely can interfere in our relationship.
Additionally, I hate that I put off so many people with that intensity. Don't get me wrong, I like who I am, I just wish I could chill out a little about the little things. God has granted me so much grace in this life, with my wife and kids, with my friends. I just want to give some of that back and not seem too harsh, too overbearing, too ogre-ish. Anyway, I needed to get that out, so thanks for reading it.
Additionally, I hate that I put off so many people with that intensity. Don't get me wrong, I like who I am, I just wish I could chill out a little about the little things. God has granted me so much grace in this life, with my wife and kids, with my friends. I just want to give some of that back and not seem too harsh, too overbearing, too ogre-ish. Anyway, I needed to get that out, so thanks for reading it.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
hecticity...if that is a word and I am sure its not
Sheesh, life is busy right now. All of a sudden there is huge activity in my business, well really just for me. I am somewhat getting the rain in the drought, so thanks to those of you who are praying for me. Also, please keep praying as I am working on a deal that feels out of my league. My brother always tells me that you know when you are working on something worthwhile, because you feel totally incapable of completing it or acheiving it. What do you think, is it true that feeling humbled by the size or scope of a project means you are in just the right place?
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Part IX
Mom was pregnant and this seemed like a great thing. Harvey was already a father of a boy of about my age, but I really don't remember his name. Christmas was on the way and our friend in the apartment complex's Mom went on Wheel of Fortune and won a boatload of stuff. It was really cool and fun. One of the things his mom had won was a huge train set, so we would go over to his house and set it up in different configurations in his living room until his mom would come home and make us put it away. We lived in the little burb just north of Encino, called Tarzana. I went to Tarzana school and was in the 4th grade. Darin was in the 6th grade and was somehow judged to be the smartest kid in elementary school in the entire state of CA. It was, all in all, a pretty good time in our lives. Mom had a steady job, was in a relatively steady relationship, we were doing well in school and were both in sports. It was too much to ask for.
On December 24th, Christmas Eve, we got an unexpected visit from my Dad (well Darin and I didn't expect it) and he dropped off presents and told us he would see us on the day after Christmas as he was going to see his brother in Orange County. This seemed a good thing to add to a life which was really looking up. We went through Christmas day with Mom and Darin, but no Harvey. Now one might ask, if we were Jewish, why were we celebrating Christmas? We never really celebrated Hannukah, but rather celebrated Christmas and added a decorative manorah, some blue and white lights added to our red and green, and occasionally called the tree a hannukah bush. This may be hard to understand, but that is what we thought all Jews in L.A. did, celebrated Hannukristmas. Maybe it is.
On Christmas night, Mom sat us down on the couch to chat with us. She told us that Dad wanted one of us to move in with him and the other would stay with Mom. Darin, being the champion of all the trodden, said he would go. Mom sighed and said okay, and Darin broke into sobs saying he didn't want to go. Mom comforted him and was giving all the attention to him, so I began to cry and said, "No, I'll go." Then I waited for my sympathy and for Darin to say that he would go in my stead since he was the older brother. But that didn't happen. Mom said okay, kissed me on the head and got up and Darin didn't say another word. Suddenly, I was going to some far off place with a father I barely knew and I had tricked myself into it. No one cried but me.
On December 26, Dad came and picked me up. Mom had packed up all my bags and we loaded into Dad's Ford Gran Torino (the same car as Starsky & Hutch, but ours was baby blue). We drove up the old highway 101. Back then, it was less of a freeway and you could pull off the road at fruit stands and such. Dad did so and got me hooked on Pistachio Nuts. It took us 6 hours to drive to Santa Clara, which is on the south side of the San Francisco bay. Dad lived in a little one bedroom apartment, which had a tennis court (this seemed very elegant to me). This apartment building was one of those specialties of the 1970's, adults only (read as hook up central). My Dad's girlfriend, Carole, lived in another apartment in the same complex. I slept on the couch and they looked for a house to move into. For New Year's Eve, Dad took me out and bought me a beige polyesther leisure suit with a wide lapel and a brown satin shirt with an even wider collar to go underneath. He bought me some brown patent leather shoes to go with it and we went to a party, at which I was the only person under 30. I don't remember much, other than being bored. This party was the first time I ever saw people smoking pot. Dad and his friends sat in a big circle and passed a bong around.
Dad was in a band, but mostly, he worked in sales in something called the semi-conductor industry. Apparently they had some sci-fi belief that one would soon be able to computerize every function in their house. Carole worked for an upstart company which had just moved out of its founders garage. They were in a one office industrial space in Cupertino and had a really cool logo, which I put on everything I could find. She was the receptionist and the company had about 15 people who worked there. Their logo was a rainbow colored apple, and their name was Apple Computers. They were ALL hippies, but they business-y hippies. It was a weird concept. Both of the founders were named Steve, which I found really funny. (On a side note, everytime I tell this part of my story, I feel a little like Forrest Gump)
OJ Simpson had just come to play for the 49ers at the end of his career and we went up for the last game of the season to Candlestick Park to see him play. I wore number 32 in his honor the previous season and was thrilled to see him at the game, but for some reason they never put him in. I believe he retired the next season. They were playing against the Denver Broncos and it was not until 1984 that I ever saw them play live against any other team. I saw a black belt do a board-breaking demonstration before the game and it fanned the flames of my interest even more for martial arts. Although not training yet, I began to think I could whoop anyone and everyone. It was....not accurate.
On January 13, 1977 we moved to a little yellow house in San Jose. It had 3 bedrooms and I had my own room for the first time in my life. Dad bought me a skateboard and took me down to enroll me at school. When he heard there was a music program, he got visions of me being the next great jazz flautist and took me to a music store and bought a flute. This was not the cruelty some would think, it was really just a lack of understanding as to just how much I would get picked on. While we were packing Dad's stuff for the move, he unpacked an old box and pulled out something from his army days. It was a small paddle about 6 inches by 8 inches with a handle and a word written across it in white paint, "Allegiance." I did not know why but as soon as he pulled it out, I began to cry. Dad and Caole thought this was funny, and unfortunately, Dad saw that "Allegiance" brought fear back to me. In the new house he hung it on a wall and when I was in trouble, he would tell me, "go get Allegiance." I can still see that paddle in my minds eye, I can smell its wood and feel its sting. I can see its texture. I hated that little piece of wood and it has become a symbol for my Dad's entire relationship with me until I was an adult, it was cold discipline and it defined our family.
On December 24th, Christmas Eve, we got an unexpected visit from my Dad (well Darin and I didn't expect it) and he dropped off presents and told us he would see us on the day after Christmas as he was going to see his brother in Orange County. This seemed a good thing to add to a life which was really looking up. We went through Christmas day with Mom and Darin, but no Harvey. Now one might ask, if we were Jewish, why were we celebrating Christmas? We never really celebrated Hannukah, but rather celebrated Christmas and added a decorative manorah, some blue and white lights added to our red and green, and occasionally called the tree a hannukah bush. This may be hard to understand, but that is what we thought all Jews in L.A. did, celebrated Hannukristmas. Maybe it is.
On Christmas night, Mom sat us down on the couch to chat with us. She told us that Dad wanted one of us to move in with him and the other would stay with Mom. Darin, being the champion of all the trodden, said he would go. Mom sighed and said okay, and Darin broke into sobs saying he didn't want to go. Mom comforted him and was giving all the attention to him, so I began to cry and said, "No, I'll go." Then I waited for my sympathy and for Darin to say that he would go in my stead since he was the older brother. But that didn't happen. Mom said okay, kissed me on the head and got up and Darin didn't say another word. Suddenly, I was going to some far off place with a father I barely knew and I had tricked myself into it. No one cried but me.
On December 26, Dad came and picked me up. Mom had packed up all my bags and we loaded into Dad's Ford Gran Torino (the same car as Starsky & Hutch, but ours was baby blue). We drove up the old highway 101. Back then, it was less of a freeway and you could pull off the road at fruit stands and such. Dad did so and got me hooked on Pistachio Nuts. It took us 6 hours to drive to Santa Clara, which is on the south side of the San Francisco bay. Dad lived in a little one bedroom apartment, which had a tennis court (this seemed very elegant to me). This apartment building was one of those specialties of the 1970's, adults only (read as hook up central). My Dad's girlfriend, Carole, lived in another apartment in the same complex. I slept on the couch and they looked for a house to move into. For New Year's Eve, Dad took me out and bought me a beige polyesther leisure suit with a wide lapel and a brown satin shirt with an even wider collar to go underneath. He bought me some brown patent leather shoes to go with it and we went to a party, at which I was the only person under 30. I don't remember much, other than being bored. This party was the first time I ever saw people smoking pot. Dad and his friends sat in a big circle and passed a bong around.
Dad was in a band, but mostly, he worked in sales in something called the semi-conductor industry. Apparently they had some sci-fi belief that one would soon be able to computerize every function in their house. Carole worked for an upstart company which had just moved out of its founders garage. They were in a one office industrial space in Cupertino and had a really cool logo, which I put on everything I could find. She was the receptionist and the company had about 15 people who worked there. Their logo was a rainbow colored apple, and their name was Apple Computers. They were ALL hippies, but they business-y hippies. It was a weird concept. Both of the founders were named Steve, which I found really funny. (On a side note, everytime I tell this part of my story, I feel a little like Forrest Gump)
OJ Simpson had just come to play for the 49ers at the end of his career and we went up for the last game of the season to Candlestick Park to see him play. I wore number 32 in his honor the previous season and was thrilled to see him at the game, but for some reason they never put him in. I believe he retired the next season. They were playing against the Denver Broncos and it was not until 1984 that I ever saw them play live against any other team. I saw a black belt do a board-breaking demonstration before the game and it fanned the flames of my interest even more for martial arts. Although not training yet, I began to think I could whoop anyone and everyone. It was....not accurate.
On January 13, 1977 we moved to a little yellow house in San Jose. It had 3 bedrooms and I had my own room for the first time in my life. Dad bought me a skateboard and took me down to enroll me at school. When he heard there was a music program, he got visions of me being the next great jazz flautist and took me to a music store and bought a flute. This was not the cruelty some would think, it was really just a lack of understanding as to just how much I would get picked on. While we were packing Dad's stuff for the move, he unpacked an old box and pulled out something from his army days. It was a small paddle about 6 inches by 8 inches with a handle and a word written across it in white paint, "Allegiance." I did not know why but as soon as he pulled it out, I began to cry. Dad and Caole thought this was funny, and unfortunately, Dad saw that "Allegiance" brought fear back to me. In the new house he hung it on a wall and when I was in trouble, he would tell me, "go get Allegiance." I can still see that paddle in my minds eye, I can smell its wood and feel its sting. I can see its texture. I hated that little piece of wood and it has become a symbol for my Dad's entire relationship with me until I was an adult, it was cold discipline and it defined our family.
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