My parents met while they were still in their teens.  Back when the world was awash in innocence and revolution all at once, they came together.

My father was a Navy man, stationed in Idaho (of all places), assigned to nuclear energy school.  My mom was a local girl, whose father, uncles, and brother were all Navy men, also.  My mom was a wild child.  She was a party girl.  She drank and smoked much younger than she should have.  I'm guessing that is one of the things that attracted my dad to her.  He was quiet, reserved, from a Colorado farming family.

They weren't married when I was conceived.  It was a torrid affair.

I've read some of the letters that my mom wrote to my dad after he got shipped out and she found out she was pregnant.  They are heartbreaking.  A seventeen year-old-girl who didn't have any business having a child was trying to be strong and stand up for herself.  My dad, barely nineteen, himself, was off trying to find his way in the world.

My mom had considered abortion.  It was illegal back then and the only way to do it, somewhat safely, was to go to Mexico.  I've heard that her sister offered to take her.  I don't know if that's true or not but I do know that my mom wanted to be a mother and chose to have me after I popped into her life unexpectantly.

They married in June.  I was born in December.  I spent little time in my birth state of Idaho.  From what I understand, I was carried off to Colorado to meet my grandparents.  My grandfather, a redhead like me, was enchanted with his first granddaughter (and I, him).  My grandmother, from the tales, was ambivalent, thinking that my mother tricked my dad into marriage.

We moved to the east where my dad was stationed.  We lived in Charleston and Jacksonville (these are the only two places I know of – it could have been more).  We weren't out there long – maybe 3 years at the most.
My first memory is of the duplex in Jacksonville. My brother, Todd, who was born in Jacksonville, was already a toddler.  We were outside playing in the mud.  We made mud pies and, I guess, they were full of fire ants.  We did eat them (mmmm…protein!).

I remember hiding under my bed in that house.  I had an imaginary friend that I talked to under the bed.  I remember, one time, my mom bending down to find me under there, talking to my friend with me.

I remember sitting on the floor in the kitchen, below the sink.  My mom was sitting next to me.  Todd was climbing all over her.  She was crying.  She wasn't just crying, she was overwrought with tears.  I started crying.  Todd started crying.

She was overwhelmed.  She was nineteen, 3000 miles from home, a husband away for 9 month stints, and she was alone, with two young kids.  She was lonely.  She was sad.

That memory still hurts my heart.