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Birthname Cheshire!


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OK, listen up! I have a half sister. I feel the need to find her most of all! She was 3 when I was born, from a previous relationship or possibly marriage, of my bmother. She was placed for adoption at, or soon after birth. I also have three half brothers from my bfathers subsequent marriage. I hope marriage turned out a little better, than the one to my bmother! It must have, if he was able to have three more sons!

Now a little about my bfather. I truly do mean a little! I personally don't remember anything ever being mentioned about him. Let alone me ever seeing him. As far as I know he was long gone, and working on his new family, by the time I was born. What information I have on him, came from the state. Extremely sketchy at best. Here goes. Only name I have is Cheshire. He was mostly Irish, with a touch of English, and American Indian (again no tribe is mentioned). He was born somewhere in the state of Missouri. He was 24 years old when I was born. He was of the Pentecostal faith. He at least finished grammar school, the eighth grade. He was a US Navy veteran, and was a welder by trade. He was 6'1" tall, weighted 175lbs., had blue eyes, brown hair, and was fair of complexion. His parents were separated, sounds familiar! His father was 57, at the time of my birth, and had an unreported disability, He finished 7th grade. Doesn't sound like school was much of a priority in that family! His mother was 51 years old, and reportedly a housewife. She had only completed the 3rd grade. "Yeah, yous don't need no dog gone edgicashun to be a dad burned housewife, now do ya!" Sorry, I got carried away there! She was also to be in poor health. My bfather also had a brother, age 28, and a sister, age 35, they were reported to be in good health. And of course he was married twice, he married his new wife while still being married to my birth mother. That is all I have on that son of a gun, Cheshire!

Any way my baunt Paula, as I said earlier, drove me in her 1964, light brown Nova, with all my stuff, from southern California, all the way to San Francisco. When we arrived downtown, in front of a shabby Tenderloin hotel, my mother came out to meet us! Paula got my stuff out of the trunk, said good bye, hopped back in her car, and I never saw her again. Now I was a little bit scared. I only saw my bmother twice, that I can to remember, before this day. One time she yelled at me for eating a box of cough drops. It looked like candy to me, but it did taste a bit funny! The other time she slammed a door on my thumb! What was going to happen next? Not much, as it turns out. She grabbed my bag, told me to follow her, and upstairs we went, to her dingy hotel room. I think I only stayed there for a few days, to a week, at most.

We went to breakfast the next morning, at a greasy spoon joint around the corner. I had a box of corn, no maybe they were Frosted Flakes, which she paid for with food stamps. When we got back to her hotel, she met a sailor, I remember the uniform, and we all went to the movies. I don't remember what movie we saw, but I do remember eating a hotdog. The sailor left and we, my mother and I, took a walk uptown. It seemed like miles to me, but now that I look back, it was only several blocks. I had to go potty, a no.2 at that. I told my mother, I had to go, I had to go real bad! She replied, "You can hold it. It's only a couple more blocks". Wrong, I dumped a load in my britches. When we got to where we were going I, shook it down my leg and onto the hallway floor. I hope no one stepped in it! That's a gross thought! It turned out to be a friend of my moms apartment. She had a little girl, about my age, and we got to play for a while. Not sure why, but now, I believe this was a dope deal. My mom was most likely on drugs, considering her lifestyle. Well, we left the friends apartment, after what seemed like a very short time, and walked back to my mom's grungy hotel. I remember hiding my soiled underwear, when we got back, behind a hamper or something, and then took a bath.

Another day, some old guy, everyone seemed old back then, that lived in the same building, gave me a quarter. I went to the corner store all by myself, in the Tenderloin, which was and still is, one of the worst areas of San Francisco! Of course I bought a bunch of candy! What's a kid to do? A quarter went a long way back then, too! The second worst thing I remember was meeting the old landlady, of the building, and her obnoxious, ugly white poodle. Not sure why, but that animal did not like me at all. It bit me the first chance it got. I vowed to get even, and I did. The very next day I caught it on the stairs, and threw it down, just as the guy that gave me the quarter, came in the door! Oh-Oh, now I was in for it! I ran and hid in my bmothers room. Eventually someone came and told my bmom what I did. She was enraged, and began to smack me and say hurtful things like, "I'm glad I'm getting rid of you tomorrow", and "I wish I never had you at all". "What are you trying to do, get me thrown out of my hotel?" She didn't even seem to care that the dumb dog bit me the day before! Granted that's no excuse for my actions either!

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