Run, Jennifer, Run!

Epilogue

  RUN! Oh, my God I hate him! I hate this new game that Bobby likes to play. Not only did I have to go down to the cul-de-sack and bring back as much gravel as I could hold, but now he has filled the band of his wrist rocket with the mix of gravels and peddles and is going to shoot it at my back. I am not alone with this game, Steven my little brother also has to run as fast as he can. Off we go running down the long grassy font yard and we are terrified. I know it is going to sting and if I am lucky the smaller gravel will not penetrate my skin on the back of my bare arms. So off we run as fast as we can fueled by fear and adrenaline. I wish that the rules would state that once we get hit we can sit out, but no the game goes on and on until Bobby comes up with some other sadistic game idea. I can hear the small pieces of gravel whiz by my head I don't believe I have not been hit. Whew, so relieved for now. Oh no! I can hear Steven cry out in pain. He is down.

CHAPTER 1, Before The Bobby Reign of Terror.

Bobby, Keith and I were born in Santa Monica in the 60's. My dad had an important job and my mom stayed at home to take care of us. I don't remember any of California since we moved to Illinois when I was 2. My dad got transferred to this state and wanted us to have a nice house and a big yard to be able to run around in. I am not sure how long my dad worked at Motorola before he decided he had enough and wanted to be self-employed. I know my dad worked a lot. In fact we hardly ever saw him. In the evening when we could hear the garage door go up we knew it was him, Like a pack of rabid dogs we all would run to the door as fast as we could to greet him. He liked to relax on the couch with the paper. Mom would bring him a salad with Wishbone dressing and we were to give him time to relax. That is my earliest real memories of my father. My mom was super pretty. If you were around in the 60/70's you might remember Go-Go boots. My mom would wear fashionable skirts that she made herself to wear with these amazing boots, I used to watch her slide her foot and half of her leg into them and them zip them up. I was always really proud to be with her. I hoped to look something like her when I grew up. I was not so lucky, I look more like my father, not a bad thing but I would have preferred looking like my mom. Since my dad was never home and my mom did not have any family nearby I think she got lonely. Three sons and a tomboy. Poor her. I know for me she wanted to sew me pretty dresses and play with my hair. I had other ideas, I wanted to play with my brothers. This included running through fields and getting weeds stuck in my hair. Oh the pain of that hairbrush being yanked through my long tangled hair, ouch. Dresses that my mom made for me? No way, I wanted to wear whatever old Tough

Skins that my bother Keith outgrew. How am I supposed to climb a tree or hang upside down wearing a dress?? We had plenty of wonderful places to play when we were very young and before Bobby was allowed to bully us we had a lot of fun. Nearby, there was a pond that we could fish in during the summer and ice skate on during the winter, Oh what good times we had with that pond! My best friend, Jana lived right next store to us with her 5 sisters (1 brother but he was a lot older and to cool to ever play) and their golden retriever Guinness. When I was 4 and a half my little brother Steven was born. The summer of 1970, I was so excited that my mom was having a baby! I already had two older brothers so I knew that I was going to finally have a sister. It made perfect sense to me 2 girls and 2 boys we would finally even out the score of male to female ratios in our homestead, yeah! My mom got so big with her pregnancy sometimes I avoided looking at her because I just thought she was getting fat. Bobby used to say she was gross and follow it up with, "Fatty, fatty 2 by 4 can't fit through the kitchen door." It of course did not last and she had a whooper of a baby. A boy. I was told it over and over and I wanted to scream. It could not be true, I wanted a sister. I wanted a sister more than anything in the world, even more than a pony. I remember going to the hospital with my dad, Keith and Bobby. We were not allowed in the hospital because kids were just not allowed. Too germy, dirty and snotty I guess. My mom stood in the window of her room holding a swaddled baby for us to all squint up at. Yep, sure looked like a baby, though I have not yet decided if it is a girl or a boy...I have to get a closer, a lot closer to thoroughly examine this new human. Back in those days the mother and baby did not come right home from the hospital. We had to wait about 10 days to meet our new little sibling. The name picked for him was a boys name and I was to share a room with my slightly older brother, Keith. My room was to be turned into a nursery so the little baby's cries would not keep us all up at night. I honestly do not remember ever hearing him cry, he seemed really big and happy. I finally understood that my denial that he was a boy would not work, he was a boy and would probably always stay that way. That was the 70's boys then stayed boys. At least during the next two decades. If Steven ever wanted to be transgender Jana and I helped him out with that. Steven was blue-eyed with baby blond curls. Jana and I would dress him up in all different types of girly styles and put make-up on him. Jana having so many sisters had lots of access to these things. Steven made a cute little sister until he got old enough to realize that what we were doing to him was not natural. Do not get me wrong. I loved my little brother more then anything. He was super cute and so easy going, he followed me and Jana everywhere we went. He was like our little real life baby doll. I actually liked that he was a boy. Unlike my older brothers, Steven would share his boy toys with me and I could show him fun things to do. We played with his Tonka trucks under the apple tree, I taught him how to climb that tree too. The Tonka trucks were good at unearthing my Barbie dolls heads that my older idiot brother would bury. My mom had bought the Barbie dolls in hopes that I would play with her and the dolls. Instead the poor dolls were sacrificed to the dirt pit under the apple tree. The subdivision I was growing up in was in the northern part of the state. If you would drive north for an hour and a half you would hit Wisconsin. The property that was being developed in Inverness, Palatine was once farming land. The farmer that had owned our property had lined the border with trees. Lucky us, we had a nice line of mature trees that we could climb. My dad loved trees and was soon planting trees that I could watch grow along with the rest of us. We had a Weeping Willow on the side of the house and in the back yard a beautiful birch tree. My room had two big windows that I could sit in, my dad planted an Oak tree out front that I watched grow taller and taller through the years. At one point it got tall enough to cast scary shadows in my room. I always knew the shadows belonged to the tree but when the wind would make it rustle I would pull the covers over my head. I have good memory's with my dad and learning about trees. I was able to water the trees when he would plant them. I would ask him how long I should hold the hose and he would tell me, "until the water starts pooling around the tree." Any idea how long a small child can hold a hose? Not that long. Soon the hose was dropped into the mud and I was gone. Dad would load us into the car at time to give my mom some peace and quiet, he would take us to a forest preserve, Bobby and Keith would run around while I would listen to my dad tell me about the different types of trees. My dad, tall and handsome. Gosh how I loved having him to myself during these trips. The house I live in now has so many different types of trees that I have planted through the years. My poor husband has been saddled with tree trimming and the kids branch and stick pick up. That is another story.