My parents divorced when I was 5 months old, because the city and the country clashed a little too hard. For the first few years of my life, my Mother and I were back and forth between our house, the house left to to her by my Grandparents and my family in California. Aunt Brenda was her younger sister who married James Moore and had three kids (Valencia, Bianca and James). With all that said, my first time coming to California was at 1 year old. That was the beginning of what would be my coming of age on El Toro military base in Orange County.
I don’t remember my first few years in Cali. All I know is that I was an only child and my cousins were closer to me than anyone. With a foundation left by my father, however, there were frequent clashes. Michigan gets way colder than California. The body of a Michigander is in sync with the changing seasons, we’re wild as rabbits with that. Much of our demeanor comes from a lifetime of digging our way out of inches of snow. Our Summers are something to remember, which is a sentiment I would develop that one Summer away from home, in California.
Maybe my Mother just needed a Summer vacation from me, but I was sent to stay with my cousins for the Summer. This was the only family I knew that had two parents, and having a Man in the house was the strangest experience I’d ever had. Uncle James was in the U.S. military, and he was rarely home. Every evening, he’d take us out on the track, which pissed me off when I had to miss the Ultimate Warrior’s return to the ring. I asked him how he dealt with killing people in war.
“You just shoot, and keep it movin’…”
One day, while waiting for dinner, I noticed Uncle James dicing tomatoes. It was a habit back home for us to steal a piece off the counter while our Mothers prepared food, but the ways of the Moore household were different. Seeing this theft as an offense, Uncle James grabbed me by the chin and raised the knife to my face…
…the blade slid down the side, leaving a tiny wire of a sliver of blood on my face.
This was a strict warning that stealing would not be tolerated in this household.
As years went on, our households would frequently intermix. As James (cousin Jay Jay) came out of the closet and I went to college, everyone was growing old and on their way out. One of those people was Uncle James’ father, “Da’”, who was the closest I had to a grandfather growing up. After that, was his Mother, who was one of the closest I had to a grandmother. They called kids like me “Children of the Village”, which is a code for the kids who belong to the streets, with absent fathers at War.
Uncle James and I did shots of Crown Royal in the dining room…
…my father, Cliff, taught me how to fish.
MAD STATIK 