Blog #24; course evaluation
14 years ago
Monday, October 5, 2009
Draft: 24 years: A Lifetime of pain
My mother was murdered. I died with her and her friend that night. My earliest memories were memories of ignorance; knowing halfway what I should have known entirely and always being on the outside looking in as it pertained to circumstances that were to have a profound impact on my childhood existence and my growth as a man. My family just wanted me to be happy even if it meant the omission of certain gory details of the past and present. I used to get mad at the thought of being misinformed. I used to get mad at my father for his drug addiction. I always thought that he should have been more of a man after my mother's murder and more of a rock for me, but as with the rest of my family how could I have known what it was to be in their position. What could I have known about being accused of my wife's murder or being the mother, sister, uncle, or grandmother to a young woman who's murder was called the worst murder mystery in the history of the city of Hillside. I remember moving around a lot as a kid, moving from ghetto to ghetto with the rest of my family trying to find a place to call home. Every time I would become settled and find new friends to get into trouble with it was time to move, I moved from Hillside, to Plainfield, to Newark, to Irvington and back to Newark in a period of five years. I remember it being 1993 and me and my family living on Chelsea avenue in Newark, N.J. My grandmother's boyfriend had a team of drug peddlers selling crack cocaine off of the porch step while my grandmother was at work. I remember cops raiding our house, and wondering at nine years old what were those little bottles with the colorful tops that I kept finding in the leaves in the backyard and crushed into broken glass along the street pavement. In the years to come I would find that the demons that hid in these little viles and in tiny slips of aluminum foil would take countless members of my community and several members of my family away from me whether it was through drug use or drug distribution from the late 1970's and on through the 1990's.
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wow man, that is a really deep story. I almost dont know what to say. you got some really strong emotions in there and a clear intense reflection that shows how those experiences made you feel and how u still feel about it. My only constructive criticism is maybe try and think of a specific story or example to tell so it reads more like a story than just looking back at the past as a whole. Maybe u dont remember anything from then since u were so young. idk in that case just ignore my suggestion lol ... your story is pretty compelling as is but i do think some vivid detail and specific events and instances could help add to it if u have any
ReplyDeleteElliott - Your story is very powerful. I like how you tell the way you experienced your life after your mother's murder. I remember this story from when you shared a writing with me a couple of years ago. One way I relate is that in my own family certain "traumas" were a secret. Some important things that concerned me personally I didn't find out until I was in my 30's. I was very angry that I had not been dealt with honestly. It was hard for me to process things that happened in my life because I did not know the history. I also had to deal with addiction in my family and it impacted my life. Thanks for sharing such a personal story.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry to hear about your rough up bringing, although I never grew up with anywhere near the tragedies you have I can sympathize with how you feel. At the same time as a reader this story has me intrigued and makes me interested in hearing more. I especially would like to hear about how you dealt with it later in life and succeded in such difficult conditions.
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