I’ve decided to take sometime and introduce the people who made me the odd, odd man that I am today. I dont know how many Volumes this will be, but It can’t be THAT long cause I dont have THAT much family.

Indeed.

I‘m an only child.

My mother only had one child. Some people say ‘because she got it right the first time.’ I say ‘ because my head was incredibly large and she was like, ‘oh hell no, I’m doing that again.’

2 different rationals, but the end results were the same. I was alone.

My Mama was/is an interesting person. I almost fear writing this because, well, because I believe my mother can take me now, and I’m like twice her size. My mother was born in Schenectady but was raised in Brownsville, Brooklyn.

‘Why’d they call it it brownsville?’

Er…I don’t know. I’m assuming it was because of the high number of brown people. Or something like a guy named Brown who owned a lot of land there. One or the other. Fact is, there were in fact a lot of brown people there so the name kinda worked out just fine.

My Mama was not an only child. She had an older brother. Her and her brother were the crown jewels of my Grand Parents, James J. White and Theola White. Grand pa was about 43 When he had his children. But he was also no longer whoring.

Not that he sold himself on the street, but Grandpa was a…ahem…bad man when he was coming up. He had his fair share of…ahem…ladies. But once he found the lord he was just fine. Became all dignified and rightous. Thats the only version of him that I’ve ever seen. Grand-Pa was also born and raised in the south. He had a, how do you say, strong idea of how you raise children.

“Spare the rod, spoil the child.”

And I understand his reasoning for it. His mother believed the same thing. Grandpa would tell the story of when his mother had asked him to do something, I forget what now, and he told her he’ll do it when he was ready. He said he turned around and the next thing he knew he was waking up. He was on the floor and bleeding. It seems his mother didn’t take too kindly to him backtalking her and she hit him in the head with a pipe.

A metal PIPE.

Grandpa still had the scar. 60 fricken years later. So he had a certain idea of how to discipline children.

Grandpa and Grandma raised their children and their children did silly things like constantly toture each other. My mothers brother michael would tell her how she wasnt really his sister because they found her in a dumpster and took her home cause they felt sorry for her. Mommy would cry. He’d laugh. Things were normal.

Right up until the time my mother was 8.

One sunday morning my family was at church, which they were prone to be, and Grandma was testifying. Thats when you basically stand up and tell the church how good the lords been to you. Towards the middle of her testimony grandma passed out.

Grandma had a heartattack.

They took her to the hospital but grandma died. At 8 years old my mother lost her mother. The state wasn’t sure a man could raise childen by himself so they had my mother and my uncle stay in some sort of childrens home type place. Mommy stayed there for a while. Grandpa visited but thats where she lived. Eventually Grandpa was able to get mommy and my uncle back.

They were living in the Projects. The projects, for those of you who are unaware was a set of buildings created for low income housing that became what the ghetto was truly built around. My uncle was…um..how do you say…a punk. He used to get picked on regularly. My mother was…um…how do you say…a little hell raiser and would go out and kick the ass of the guys who would pick on my uncle. Im not talking about just a few ‘hey leave my brother alone’’s. I’m talking foot in the ass crack of these kids who dared mess with her blood.

Grandpa eventually met another woman. She had been married much like him had and had lost her spouse much like he did as well. She had children, 4 daughters, and actually had lost a son. They started to date and soon therafter got married. My mother was excited. She was going to have a mother. It had been 4 years since her mother died and the idea of having a mother was awesome. So for 2 weeks my mother reffered to the new woman as Mommy. Then one day she pulled her to the side.

“My children don’t like you calling me mommy. So stop it.”

Lets stop for a moment people and absorb this particular moment. A grown ass woman just went to a 12 year old girl who had lost her mother a few years earlier that she could NOT call her mommy cause her kids didnt like it.

From that point on, she was forever reffered to as ‘Sister White’. It was the formal greeting people would use in the church and it became the greeting my mother used for the rest of her life.

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Bleh. I’ll have to continue this later.

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