Unlike a lot of people who say they can remember their first memory at one-year-old, yah right, mine starts at the ripe old age of four.

We had moved from Bloomington to Eagan, Minnesota. In Bloomington I could remember going to the end of our driveway and seeing Metropolitan Stadium were the Vikings and Twins played. I told everyone that we lived only four blocks from my childhood hero, Tony Oliva, from the Minnesota Twins. That would be all that I can recall and why we are starting at four in Eagan. My family consisted of my mom and dad, one older brother, Todd, and a younger sister named Tracy. Later in life came my younger brother Jason. He came ten years after myself so at this point he wasn’t even a thought when I was a mere four years old. It was many years later after high school that I found out we all had an older sister named Terry that was given up for adoption at birth. To this day I wonder if she has ever wanted to see if she had brothers or sisters. I know I would love to see her and tell of the many things that have happened in my life. I do tend to gab, which she would probably reply with, “you know, I think I got the wrong family but it was nice hearing all you wonderful stories.”

For my mom that was the toughest thing she has ever done she told me once. My mom, Nancy, has always been a pillar of strength in my life. At a young age she was one of the most beautiful women you would have ever met. She had beautiful brown hair and eyes and a complexion to match. She wasn’t real tall at 5′3”, which explains where I got my 5′8” height. Today she looks aged from three failed marriages. She has only been divorced twice but her third drunk has taken its toll on her like the first two. One night before my grandmother passed away the three of us were sitting in the kitchen and my mom had way too much to drink. One thing always happens when my mom drinks… it’s like she has taken a dose of truth serum. She denies to this day our conversation that night but she cried as she said she hated her husband. I told her to get out and that her children would always be there for her. She exclaimed, “I don’t want three failed marriages.” She now prays for his demise I think secretly but wont admit it to anyone else. When times were tight she worked three jobs to support us so she wouldn’t have to get help from the government. She wasn’t getting any help from my dad so financially she carried the burden. It was at a young age she told me that if I worked hard, good things would follow. Good advice, but in the poor community that really isn’t a reality. I asked her once at the ripe old age of six, “If she could go anywhere in the world where would you like to go?” She replied, “Switzerland.” I told her one-day I would send her to Switzerland then for a vacation. It hasn’t happened yet…