This is my son Jerome. My only son. I have a daughter as well. I love them both. Both of them are well on their way in life, and both of them have pieces of me in them. Today though I’m focusing on him because lately what I see is more of a roadmap of “What may have been” for me. When you’re a man, you see the man things in your son. I see the heart things in my daughter which is equally as good.
Recently my boy was tested at school. One of those scan tron tests that determines where you rank nationally across a bevy of subjects. He ranked in the 96% percentile. He’s always been wicked smart, especially with Math. His mind is a steel trap with mathematics. He’s an athlete, fully aware of what his body is capable of. Cycling, football, Track. He has a varied friend group, a few really close friends. He’s got a 3.7 GPA.
A few differences between us though. He’s lived in the same house his entire life. It’s an old house that was built in the 60’s. He’s had his own room. He’s never been beaten. He’s always had both parents love and nurturing. While not an expansive family, he’s had my in-laws there every step of the way supporting and encouraging him.
I had abuse. Stuff I still think about at 52. I bounced around houses. I was pretty good athletically, but I never had the years of mentoring or support from family he’s had. I had a few months at best. Most of my athleticism was survival, walking or biking everywhere. Doing hard labor like firewood. My good subject was English, and writing. Math I was a train wreck at, or at least felt that way. The most time I ever spent at any parents house in a stretch was 5 years. Despite all of these shortcomings, I scored in the 98th percentile in the 7th grade, and at the same time was found to have an IQ of 138.
The abuse went further than the above mentioned things though. While schools wanted to put me in advanced classes to nurture my brain, my mother actively petitioned for me to be in remedial classes. Why? Why fucking do that?
When I think back, I also think of how ill equipped I was at home. There was nobody that could help nurture this intellect at home. Both my parents were so self absorbed in their fight with each other and “resetting” their lives there was nothing left for me or my brother. Luckily my sister was somewhat taken under my stepfathers wing, but my brother and I never had the guidance.
Part of what I did then was to absorb myself into computers, I had gotten to a point with the apple IIc where I was creating vector style graphics, and had a firm grasp on data and read pointers where I felt like I was on the cusp of something greater… and I got thrown out of the house.. at 16. I wouldn’t rediscover my love or talent for these machines for another 4 or 5 years, and by that point that spark that had been unnurtured for so long left me.
I had to accept a lower level of computer understanding (networking/IT) Yet I see these engineers pulling down $250k or more, double what I make. They went to a 4 year school, they were nurtured. I had to scratch, fight, and dumpster dive to get what little knowledge I had. Both my parents deprived me of these opportunities, and doors were slammed shut as a result.
This is where righting the course of future happens though.
Both of my kids have had all the things I wished for as a child and teen. I love them, immensely. I feel like there are times I can’t fully express it in a way that meets their needs, but I can do it in other ways, like making sure their lives aren’t bogged down with my problems. That they’re free to wander, explore, but still have enough guidance to pull them back to keep them out of danger.
Slowly, as time marches on I see their lives unfold ahead of them. As much as I wish I could go back and change it for myself, there is no going back. I can only change things going forward for them. My daughter wants to work with kids, my son wants to be a Radiologist. I have no doubt that they will both see this through.
It’s really interesting as a parent who escaped, and stopped the cycle of abuse by a series of simple choices to not repeat the same mistakes as your parents. It really is that simple. If you really hated what your parents did to you that badly, you just don’t do that to your kids.
The future will be strong in my branch. I realize now I am the root of this branch, and maybe I rooted myself stronger than I gave myself credit for. I am proud of my kids. Every time I look at them, every time I think of them, all I feel is love. Long after I’m gone, I know they’ll have a culture of looking out for each other. It’s too bad both branches of my family lost the compassion to do that.
