Crunch.

Never before has such a sound had so much influence in a person’s life; has such a simple sound been repeated throughout a person’s nightmares for years and years to come.

Of course, just such a thing has been done to me.

I was born the son of Roy Clifford Timberlake, a U.S. Army enlisted man stationed in Nuremberg, Germany whose anger never got him above an E-2 pay grade, and of Sydney Adriana Popescu, a Turkish-Romanian daughter of a Turkish Roma and a Romanian nobleman, working in a Nuremburg pub.

My place of birth was, yes, in Nuremberg. When my father found out that dear Sydney was finally having a son, he, for some reason, hopped on a plane back to the states. I’ve never seen him once in my entire life, save for photographs.

Circis and Ayla Popescu, such wonderful grandparents, raised me. To this day, I still love them dearly, though they’ve disowned me. My grandfather taught me how to fight, with weapons or with hands, and how to make music. Most importantly, though, he taught me how to think. He taught me that, no matter what, what goes on in my head is the only thing that will matter.

While on the subject of my grandparents, I shall point out that they had an interesting meeting of their own.

My grandfather was and, as far as I know, still is a major horse breeder in Romania and Turkey, specializing in hot-blooded racing horses, so in his youth he regularly commuted between his homes in Giurgiu (Romania), Bucharest (Also Romania), and Istanbul (Turkey), so as to make and break agreements in regards to his sought after horses.

One faithful day,as a 30 year old Papa, as I still lovingly refer to him, was taking his regular walk among the streets of Istanbul, a 19 year old Ayla Akkaya decided he was a prime specimen to have his pocket picked. Of course, Papa being proud of his immense strength, speed, and mind, as soon as she slipped her hand towards his inside jacket pocket, he grabbed it and snapped it in 2 places, the pain of which caused her to slip into unconsciousness. Picking her up and carrying her back to the sizable home which he owned, he nursed her back to health and, eventually, asked her to marry him. She said no 6 times before she realized that he liked her for more reasons than that she had feminine organs. They married and, after 3 other children, my mother Sydney came along.

Now, allow me the change the subject somewhat and say that Papa is still, essentially, in the prime of his life. He may be in his early 80s, but, even now, I hear that he can still bench press at least 300 pounds, dead lift in the mid 200s, can run a mile in under 6 minutes, and, as of the last I’ve heard, he is still rarely beaten in a game of chess. Obviously, he is a man who ages with grace. Now, don’t you wish you could age a quarter as well as he has?

To be continued…