Confronting My Demons (Part 3 of 6)

SOPHOMORE versus LOCK-BOX

1 Year previous to this point in my life was the complete opposite. I was an athlete, musician, successful and normal kid.

At this point I either purged all of the extra hobbies and activities or they were outlawed. I started smoking and had anger festering and rippling beneath my skin. I was walking longer distances at night and taking more chances. In between all that, I was working at the McDonald's at the grill. I usually closed the grill at night way past the time a person at my age was supposed to be doing that. I had a strange enjoyment with cleaning the grill with the green acidic slime that came in a package. Once you dump it on the grill, it immediately cooked and spiked your arm with shots of firey pain.

I was taking off in my bike after work to where-ever, sometimes just ending up on the wrong side of town. I ended up walking a lot because once I got home I would have the bike in the garage. It was too loud getting that bike out of there again. Plus, I would stick out like a sore thumb biking down the street. Walking was the quietest way out.

Also, sometimes my bike was taken away and let at other people's homes so I would not have access to it. That is not the first time something was taken away. My mother created quite the history of the art of confiscation.

Explanation of the "Brass Box":
My step-father owned a 3' x 3' x 3' brass box that was lined with cedar. It had a flat latch lock on it but most of time it was open. My whole childhood in pictures, among others, was stored in that box and still is to this day. I loved looking at those pictures. It has all my class pictures, vacation pictures and the assortment collage of my life there. At some point the lock was closed during the last summer and the key was "lost". I lost access to my childhood suddenly and this became a fighting point against my step-father and mother at that specific point. It was plainly obvious what they were up to. But this was not my biggest fighting point.

Explanation of the "LOCK-BOX":
This box had been around since we lived in Cleveland. Just a regular cash box you would see at a garage sale. At some point after we moved to Richmond Heights I had gotten a paper route with the Sun Messenger. Just a once a week paper route in which all of the money I collected from that route and earned went into that box. Mysteriously there was never any money in it.

I found out YEARS later that my sister had found the key to that box and took out "portions" of the money. I do know some of the money went to paying for the canoeing trip I went on but as for what happened to years of working that paper route is beyond me. One can only assume that the person responsible for that box had some shifty accounting practices. Maybe as payback?

Now at this moment in time, the box was being used as leverage against me. Deep within a locked file cabinet was the LOCK-BOX with its trusty lock keeping my prized possessions away from me. For a household with television outlawed, my most prized possession was my GameBoy. Unfortunately, 50% of the time it was not in my own possession. This was a key point in getting me to "do what I was told" and "keep me in line". I think the person that thought up of this control and manipulation device should have realized it wasn't really about the materials taken away, but the way they were taken away. It was only fueling the anger. Flaunting the whereabouts of where my stuff was locked up and/or my mother acting like she didn't know where those things may be... it just wasn't working. It became a power game and I think she enjoyed watching me get frustrated.

As I have said, I also started working at McDonald's and as you can imagine, I took the weekly paychecks to get cashed myself. No more of this control crap. At first, the suggestion that I get a job seemed horrible to me but then I slowly realized the potential as I got paid for the first time. It was my hard earned money and I had a whole world to purchase from.

That down part was that I still lived in the totalitarian household where normal things were outlawed and certain material possessions were locked away or disappeared. My sister and I came up with the word "Mommunism".

Still, I started a purchasing spree of cigarettes, heavy metal t-shirts, walkman, headphones, GameBoy games, cassettes and food. What else does a teenager need. I also used these new funds towards my night escapes.

Then the confiscation started up in full force as my new items made their debut in the hell home. One of the techniques used against me really got me to a new level of anger. One day I was looking for my fairly new heavy metal t-shirt and I just could not find it. I search everywhere and even asked my mother what happened to the shirt. As I walked around the near museum like home I walked into the living room and made the discovery. My mother was dusting the furniture.... with a cut out square of one of my shirts. What a coincidence she would pick that very moment to start using her new dust rag. My shirts that I bought were torn up and cut so that my mother could use them to dust.... she didn't use it once in front of me... she did it every time she wanted to get under my skin. Among other things taken were my music being deemed wrong and unchristian-like.My bike, clothing, music and the raccoon skull (I found that in the ravine behind us) was all disappearing. It was either leverage to get me to do something or the manipulative christian speech.

My night walks were getting longer and more exhaustive.

During all this stealing, bickering and constant fighting I did start at my new public school of Richmond Heights High... the Spartans at the time had the worst football record in the whole United States. You can image how hard I laughed at the principal when he asked me to be a kicker for the team. It was his way of compensating the fact the school had no soccer team. I was not interested in sports though, I was too busy being angry.

[click to enlarge]

LEGEND:
(1) - RICHMOND HEIGHTS HIGH SCHOOL
(2) - RICHMOND HEIGHTS GOVERNMENT CENTER (POLICE STATION WHERE I WAS HELD)
(3) - MCDONALD'S (WERE I WORKED FOR ABOUT 3 OR 4 MONTHS)
(4) - MY GRANDMOTHER'S HOME (AT THAT TIME / SHE WAS MY MOTHER'S MOTHER)

The school I found to be boring and uninspiring. Basically two hallways stacked on top of one another with a gym and cafeteria on the end. I hated it there.

The worst football coach in the nation was the Health teacher. Coach teaching health, it was odd.

My English teacher was, believe it or not, also my mother's teacher at one time. At this point in her life she was waging a war on cliches and I was her target. Lots of busy work... no real learning going on there.

Then there was SPANISH..... THIS teacher was teaching it with the MEXICAN dialect.... TOTALLY FUCKING DIFFERENT from that CUBAN teacher I had at US. What a mess that was! I was constantly being yelled at for pronouncing everything wrong.

The only other class I remember from there was art class. I liked art class... that was nice and easy. One day the teacher wanted us to carve some linoleum so we could make prints with them. Well, I decided to carve what I knew and saw in the previous year. I carved an odd picture of a video monitor (Sony) sitting on a desk, the monitor was displaying a kid strapped down and knocked out in a padded room. Apparently the teacher didn't think that was too funny but I told her I knew what I was drawing because I have seen it with my own eyes. Eventually she told me that she did some side work for the institution I was booked into and she backed off.

The teachers were not the only problem though. I had the peers to contend with as well. Some went to grade school with me and started to remember me.... and to start off where they last left me.... continual jeering and teasing. "Mr. Popular" was not I! One student was also in US the year prior and we just glared at each other mostly... mutually assured destruction... "don't talk about US". For the most part I was ignored, nobody knew me and I was too self consumed to warrant anyone to approach me.

As a couple of months past I was in full escape mode. I walked extremely long distances and night. One night I walked past University School, it felt so strange to see the driveway and sign again. It felt embarrassing. By the time I got back to Richmond Heights, the sun was up and school was starting soon... I still went that day... I had no choice. The more I pushed it... the more I worked and walked... the more tired I got. At one point I fell asleep in class and the next thing I knew... I woke up and there was a whole new class surrounding me. I got up as the class laughed at me and fell into the hallway. I was burning out. After some time I guess my parents knew what I was doing sometimes and bolted the door on me. Some nights I would come home to only be able to sleep on the porch. No food. No water. No bathroom. One day I knew I was going to be stuck outside for over 8 hours so I wrenched open / broke the gears of the kitchen window (the opening reel) with my bear hands. Yes, that was expensive. Another night I knew if I kicked the bottom of the sliding glass door the piece of wood, set in place to secure it, would pop out, then all I would have to do is tilt the door till it jumped the lock. What happened this time was I kicked the door and the glass cracked in half. Ah yes, the dumb things we do. I was getting so tired and defeated.

So I changed that. I was working late at McDonald's one night and I orchestrated my biggest escape yet. I arranged for a cab to pick me up at a house that was not my own and I had them drive me to the Cleveland Bus Station. There, I bought a ticket to Columbus. As I waited to get on the bus a hippy started asking me way too many questions... so I just acted as if I looked way much younger than my real age. Eventually he left me alone. When I arrived in Columbus I called my surprised sister and she picked me up. I stayed with her for about a week... but my sister took me back... I think she took me back on Thanksgiving.

I ended up in "in-school detention" or another way of saying stare at a wall for 16 hours over two days. Small price to pay for the much needed vacation. Plus there was a cute girl in there the whole I was there... it wasn't so bad in detention.

School felt so low on my list of priorities at this point thought. My main focus was to win the fight. So one day I was in a fight with my mother about that damned LOCK-BOX. I went down to the basement and got a hammer and a file. What better way to open a file cabinet than with a metal grooved file? I was determined to get in and take what was rightfully mine. The yelling dragged on and on. It was so stupid and petty. I was so tired of the repetition defense of her reasoning. So I threw in the towel.

"I hate you and you hate me so much! Why can't I just leave for good? Why can't I live with my dad? You don't want me here anyway!"

Seizing the moment, my mother quickly called my dad and told him,"It's your turn... I can't handle him anymore!"

I was eventually handed the phone and he started to explain the bad situation he was in when my mother was in the background jeering me. I don't think he ever got to finish what he was saying because my mother and I started to fight again.

By the day's end, I was at that Cleveland bus station again booked on the longest possible bus trip to Massachusetts. The express bus was only $15 more but I guess my mom wanted one more jab at me.

In case you are wondering, I did get the contents out of that damned fucking LOCK-BOX but the most precious of possessions are still, to this day, out of my reach in the Brass Box.

My mother finally got what she wanted. She wanted rid of all the kids and she accomplished that years before she planned it to. The financial burdens were finally over for her... for good. It must be an awfully lonely life.