A Glimpse of One Life

(A Glimpse of One Life is an autobiography of my life)

Early Childhood

I was born in Illinois. I have only limited memories of my early childhood. I was the youngest of six brothers and three sisters were younger than I. My mother died when I was four years old with her tenth child. My only memory of that time was being on the second floor of our home and looking down through a vent to the hallway beneath. I seen them taking my mother away in a stretcher. I do recall one other instance in which I desired a pie that was cooling off in the kitchen window. I was attempting to climb up to get this treasure when I fell. I still have the scars to prove that little misadventure!

Uprooted from a Happy Home
One of my sisters, and I, had lived with the same foster parents for a number of years. For me it was a happy time though we did not have much in the way of material things. At one point we lived in an old abandoned schoolhouse. I can still vitualize the clothesline stretched across the schoolhouse to accommodate the washing.
I remember one elderly lady who took us to church on Sunday mornings. I remember most of all the fragrance of the flowers she carried to church in her car. It was truly a happy carefree life in this foster home setting. While there I played some mischievous tricks on my sister who still remembers them even to this day with a frown. Unfortunately, she has the scars to prove it as well!
One day we were uprooted from this wonderful setting and placed in another foster home where we were to remain until adulthood. The former foster parents had a child of their own and moved to another state to accept a job offer which prompted our being sent to the other foster home. I never fully recovered from their decision. They sought my forgiveness at a later date but I rejected their request. If I could see them again I would readily show my forgiveness but that chance has long since come and gone. A lesson to be learned in forgiveness, the opportunity may come along only once, and one needs to carefully weigh their decision!

A New Life - A New Setting
In our new foster home our needs were more than amply provided for as our foster parents could have no children of their own and we filled that vacancy. It was a happy setting but the thoughts of what I left behind still lingered in my mind. Later as an adult I went back to where I had been uprooted. Where the old farm house that had been there was now only a field. The old store that the lady who took us to church owned was gone. I had sought to recapture that period in my life through this visit but it now eluded me. Let us enjoy those treasured moments while they last for a time may come when they will be no more!
I remember another such instance. I enjoyed going to a lake about 30 miles from our new foster home to water-ski. Later in life when I returned to get another glimpse of those cherished moments, only to find that they eluded me once again, as before. The lake was still there but its landscape had been so drastically changed that it could no longer reinforce those old memories. The only way they would ever be reconstructed again would be through my previously captured memories of those wonderful times.

A Committed Life
God's Word reveals that one is to train up a child in the way that he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it; that certainly bears out to be true whether it is religious principles in life or in general. My foster father trained me in ways that I would later use in life. My foster mother instilled in me the need to be in attendance in God's house. When it came to Sunday's there was no question as to where we would be. I had perfect attendance pins and at one point in my life even went forward to commit my life to the Lord. It was not the same commitment that I was to make at the age of 35 but it was a commitment. Had it not been for those values being taught earlier in my life things may have been different.

Good Morals - A Part of Our Upbringing
My sister and I found a lady's pocketbook, in a parking lot, and gave it to our foster father. He found some identification and gave the lady a call and we waited 15-20 minutes for her to come to claim her pocketbook. Her husband owned a gas station and she said that all the day's receipts were in her pocketbook. When she arrived she thanked us, patted my sister and I on the head, and rewarded us with fifty cents each. We certainly did not feel the reward was sufficient but were taught it was right to return that which did not belong to us.
Alcohol consumption was not even a consideration in the home we grew up in. Foul language was taboo. TV was not a factor at the time we were growing up for it was still good wholesome family entertainment. We went to drive-in movies but again the contents of the movies did not have to be a concern to our foster parents. It would be good to revive those days, if one could, for the morals of our land has certainly gone in the opposite direction!

The Big - Bad - an Ugly
This introduction may see a little peculiar but not so in regards to some memories. It is a fitting title to those who pick on others for they seem BIG - BAD - and certainly UGLY in their disposition. Why I suffered as a target I do not know but it became imbedded in my mind as to the cruelty of it. It was during my high school days; it was not from everyone but just a few select bullies. One in particular seemed to target me out and make my time unpleasant. I did not purposely set out to anger him but for some reason he was very aggressive towards me.
I had height but was like a beanpole. I could offer little resistance towards him other than have a dislike cultivate deep within me. I had a friend, in a similar circumstance, and we simply endured. Maybe you can relate to such a happening in your own life! I heard of one Christian lady who had hatred towards the one who had betrayed her family and caused them to be put to death. It took God to do a surgical removal of that hatred and place forgiveness in her heart toward that person. He will do that for each of us, if we will allow Him too.
I have read of many who suffered horribly at the hands of their captors; some even being put to death simply for their belief in Christ. But they still possessed a love towards those doing them bodily harm and prayed for their soul; yet many are unable to forgive man of simpler trespasses. We go through some trying times in our lives, as I was to learn, even past my high school days, but we have to be willing to forgive. Scripture reveals that if you will not forgive man his trespasses neither will your Father in heaven forgive you yours (Matthew 6:15).

Beyond High School
I graduated from high school and my foster parents decided my next cup of tea was Business College. It did have its merits for I was later to use the expertise I gained while there, academically speaking, but not some vices I picked up.
While attendng Business College I lived in the YMCA. While there I learned the art of throwing dice which would cause my removal from Business College after a short eight months. I was a poor loser after having depleted my checking account that had been set up towards attending Business College. When I complained to my gambling buddies they gave me an attitude adjustment that still smarts today when I think of about it. The desire to gamble soon left me but then another vice came into existence which was alcohol consumption.
One night of alcohol indulgence almost cost the use of the hand that I am entering this story with. I apparently did not care for the reflection of myself in a storefront window and hit it with my fist. I found out later that the upper part of the huge window could have easily sliced my hand off, when it fell, had not divine providence intervened. As one reflects on the past one has to be thankful there is one mightier than ourselves watching over us.

Beyond Business College
After removal from the Business College setting I was given some choices: Enter into another Business College and work my way through; no free ride as before, or remain at home and find a job. My final choice was to go into the military, which I choose, through the persuasive efforts of my foster father who was an eight-year veteran of the Navy.
Just prior to joining the military I had a falling out with my foster father. I departed from home by the way of thumbing a ride to a distant town about 30 miles away. I learned to fend for myself by staying at the local YMCA and working in a field earning $40.00 a week. It was a five-mile walk to work and back. I later traveled five miles in the opposite direction to pick strawberries for half a day and earn as much as I did working a day in the field.
I remember one instance that I have never forgotten. I had 25 cents left and the choice of eating a piece of pie or a bowl of soup at the same price. I wanted that pie so bad I could taste it but knew the soup would be more nourishing. A valuable lesson in the difference in "wants" and "needs."
One day I returned to the YMCA to find my foster father waiting for me. He asked me to return home, if not for him then for my foster mother. I returned home for departure into the military.

Life in the Military
Going from a hometown boy to a life in the military was quite an experience. I was going to the Air Force but my foster father won out. The Air Force recruiter was out to lunch and he suggested we go see the Navy recruiter. Would you believe that being a high school graduate and some Business College under my belt I failed the military entrance exam! I picked up a book that helps prepare one for the military entrance exam and a month later did so well on the exam that I was offered a military school as well!
Since I had typing ability I was selected as a Company Clerk. It had its benefits and I found out that I enjoyed administrative work. I finally was able to do something I enjoyed doing. But booth camp was another matter. One particular upsetting day was when the Company Commander, a Chief Petty Officer, came back from lunch intoxicated along with another Chief Petty Officer. They certainly knew how to make one's day hetic. They held locker inspection, in that condition, and threw personal items out the third floor window to the ground below. One boot camp enrollee had his nose, ears, and mouth stuffed with cigarettes. Another was commanded to do push ups as one of the Chief Petty Officers walked on top of him. Another grabbed an enrollee's rifle, while he was on guard duty, and yelled at him for allowing him to do so. Later the Company Commander wanted to know where I was and I told him in the washrom. My foster mother certainly did not raise no dummy, maybe somewhat of a coward in the line of fire, but certainly no dummy!
I survived the agony of booth camp and was sent to Corpsman School (my promised military school) to be a hospital corpsman. I found it not to be my cup of tea. The only reason I was chosen for such a rating was the military's need for more bodies in that particular rate and because of my administrative ability. When they started teaching us to give bed baths, shots and enemas I knew my departure was at hand. I was told by the Commanding Officer that I would end up on a destroyer in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I told him I did not care just get me out of Corpsman School.
I received orders to San Juan. I walked up to a sailor with a lot of years in the Navy (one could tell by the amount of hash marks on his sleeve) and asked him what ship the San Juan was. He looked at my orders and said, that is shore duty in San Juan, Puerto Rico you dummy. Again, I certainly was no dummy, but simply had believed what the Commanding Officer of the Corpsman School had told me.

San Juan
One medical officer in San Juan described my alcohol consumption behavior in the following manner: "This individual when highly intoxicated resembles a caged animal." What a slap in the face towards my upbringing and Christian heritage. San Juan was where I lost what remaining virtues I may have had.
Have you ever heard of one becoming so intoxicated that they tried to swim out of a mud puddle? Have you ever heard of someone trying to direct traffic in a drunken condition? Have you ever heard of someone waking up from a night of drinking with their hand hanging over the edge of the roof of a building three or four stories high? Have you ever heard of someone waking up early in the morning, out in the middle of nowhere, minus some of their clothing, as the sun came up to arouse their senses? Have you ever heard of someone being swung at by a pimp, and then being backed out of a bar by a policeman using their chest as a tattoo spot for his nightstick? Have you every heard of someone pushing another person through a swinging door who then hit a parked car and crumbled up like a rag doll? Have you ever heard of someone being chased by the shore patrol through an outdoor theater with the Commanding Officer of the Naval Station in attendance; then within seconds after immerging from that situation, come within a fraction of a second of being fired upon by a Marine Security Guard, then face three military judges at a Special Court Martial for disrepect to a superior officer, assault, breaking apprehension, drunk and disorderly, resulting in 50 days in a Marine Corp Brig? Welcome to my life in San Juan, Puerto Rico in a two-year hair-raising period!
No wonder the 40th Psalm means so much to me: "He brought me up out of an horrible pit, and set my feet upon a rock, and established by goings. And he has put a new song in my mouth, even praise to my God." One Shore Patrolman, who had used his nighstick on me, saw me after my transfer from Puerto Rico. He could not believe that I was still in the Navy! We serve a wonderful Savior who is able to clean our act up but it was to come much later in life.
During my time in San Juan I attempted to drown out past memories through alcohol; however when one awakes the next day those memories are still there. Many times I could have slipped out of this life to face the terrible consequences of a literal Hell. I am so thankful for the saving grace of God, through His Son Jesus, who would one day bring me into that inner peace I was searching for.
Many cancer patients say: "I am a survivor." Of my tour of duty in San Juan I can say that I was a survivor because of the one who was watching over me, even though I had not yet acknowledged Him. A book could be written concerning my many misdeeds in San Juan, I have much to be thankful for.

Sea Duty
(to be continued)