It was the summer of 64', where free love roamed the country and lingered, if for one moment in the small town where I was born. Lyndon B. Johnson was running the country by default, trying to fill in the footsteps of JFK, a national icon shot down in the prime of his life. Vietnam was raging on, in a country far away, while America was humming to the tune of "Just a Spoon Full of Sugar" from one of the years biggest movies, Mary Poppins.
The irony of it all left the bitterness of saccharine in your mouth. The war angered the youth of our country but the youth in our family were oblivious to to the chaos the rest of America was experiencing.
In the home that I was born, a celebration was taking place. Johnson had just signed the Food Stamp Act designed to aid needy families in a cooperative federal state food program. It was a sign of things to come. Relief, when there was thought to be none. In a blended family with six children news like this rocked our world with greater impact than the Beatles's national tour. I grew up in Reno, a small thriving community set in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, known not so much for its beauty, rather it's ability to attract dreamers. It lured visitors with the hope of fortune and prosperity, a land a riches.
It was the hope of these things that attracted my parents to this desert paradise. My parents worked the business, or perhaps it was the business that worked them. As if pre-determined by the food gods; my parents were destined to meet. My father was cook in one of the larger casinos on Reno's mini strip; my mother a waitress in another. Their union joined by the commonality of food, but nurtured by alcohol and gambling.
The gaming industry helped my family put food on the table; almost as much as it took it away. In a state that boasted no income taxes a disease was spreading with my family: addiction. Alcohol ran much more freely than Kool-Aid, a feat of its own considering the number of children involved. My mother was on her third marriage and giving birth to her sixth and final child. The world as she knew it was about to change, never to be the same for any of us again.
Our family was a huge boulder rolling down a steep hill. Momentum was building, there would be no stopping what was to happen. We were headed for a crash, breaking us all apart; leaving nothing behind but a handful of sharp-edged, jagged rocks. It would be years before the edges would be rubbed smooth and the damage repaired....................
This is my story, albeit not always perfect. My past has had it's challenges, full of mistakes and on occasion regrets. But when all is said and done, like those of my past and those of my future, all mistakes and challenges were made in search of love. Flawed as they may be, but always sought in search of truth...........
