Little sins, huge consequences, but not for me.

My parents and my sister loved to go visit my uncle and his wife, in Mason City, Ia. They had 3 kids and the oldest, Sandy, was my age. The two boys were a tad bit younger than I was.

My uncle and his wife had gotten married when her youngest son, Mike, was just a few months old. Sandy and Frank were still pretty small too. Fact is they didn't know that my Uncle wasn't really their father. Sandy and Frank had figured it out eventually but Mike still didn't know.

My uncle also had a son from his first marriage. I don't know that he ever saw him after he divorced his first wife.

I hated to go there. My uncle and his wife were also alcoholics so for them and my parents it was just an excuse to get drunk and party. More drunken and abusive adults for me to deal with. Separated from my parents my uncle and his wife weren't to bad but together they all sucked.

They had a room, at the top of the steps that they put whoever had been bad, in. Nothing in it but a blanket and pillow. Their idea was that if there was nothing in there you would think about what you did wrong and reflect on what to do right next time.

Now that was a nice theory but what went along with it was a lot of yelling and with my parents there also a lot of hitting before you ever got to the room. Naturally I ended up there, once.

I don't remember what I supposedly did but I do remember my sister lied about whatever it was to get me into trouble. Heh, that was pretty much normal for her. So I ended up in the room, quite unjustly in my opinion. It wasn't fair and I was pissed.

Oops, forgot, no food in the room and no water. You had to ask to even go to the bathroom. I laid in there for a few hours and then came up with a plan to get out. I was pissed to the max so the plan I came up with was quite nasty.

Information used to be power and I had lots of information adults didn't know I had. They'd talk about all kinds of things they didn't want known, while I was in the room. I may have looked preoccupied with something but I was always listening. No matter where we were I was always paying attention to what the adults were doing.

Nothing new there and most abused kids do it. I'd say it's a safety mechanism or an early warning system so you can know what's likely to be coming and how to stay out of the way of it. Heh, by age 4 abused kids can read eyes, voice tones and body language quite well.

I finally decided to put my plan into action. I called my uncles wife upstairs to the room and told her flat out if I wasn't let out I was going to tell Mike that he was adopted and that my uncle wasn't really his father. That they had 10 minutes to let me out or I was going to do it.

Results were as expected. First my mother and step father came up and tried to talk to me. Didn't work as I was prepared to accept the consequences of my ultimatum. Whatever they did to me wasn't going to matter. So they got angry and beat me.

While they were leaving I told them I was still going to tell Mike unless I got out, now. Then up comes my uncle and he tried to talk to me. Yeah, well, I listened to him about as well as he'd listened to me when I told him my perfect little sister was lying.

So he hit me a few times and left cussing an swearing. Lol, I could hear them all arguing downstairs about what to do. They didn't seem to understand that they only had two choices. Kill me or let me out. Anything else and I was going to tell.

They didn't let me out so at the first opportunity I got, which was the next day, I told Mike the truth about his family. I got beat by all four of them for telling him and they didn't let me out. Lol, I ended up staying in that room until we left.

Funny, when we went there after that I was left alone by the adults and was never put into that room again. I may have lost the battle but I sure as hell won the war.

I've lost a few battles in my life. A lot fewer than you might think, but still, I have lost a few. I've never minded losing a battle or two because in the end I know I am going to win the war. That's just how it is. If you don't kill me during the battle I am going to win eventually.

Now that I'm older and physically unable to fight for more than 30 seconds I pick my battles a little more carefully.

Bottom line is I have never conformed to what the world thinks I should be or do, but, have instead, made the world conform to my reality most of the time. It's not all that hard to do, at least for me.

If you should have the luck to make it into my reality, or bad luck, you'll discover that most of the world bends to my way. Hey, it's my reality and my choice as to what happens in it. My reality works for me. It won't work for anyone else.

Lol, the last thing I said to one chick was "You are no longer relevant to my reality". From that point on she ceased to exist, for me. Altho we still saw each other at other places I never acknowledged that she even existed after I told her she was irrelevant.

My reality, my battles, my wars and I get to decide what's relevant and what isn't.

Really depressed in Sioux City, Iowa

As I said before my father wanted me to stay and my mother forced me to leave with her and my sister. I did my best not to go with her but I was little and I lost the battle. So we moved to Sioux City, Iowa to live with my mothers parents.

They lived in a small 1 bedroom apt which was fine for them but when you added 3 more people it was almost as bad as living in the house behind my paternal grandmothers. The only thing that made it better was my grandparents had tv and an inside bathroom.

I have no idea how to describe the area in politcally correct terms but it was not an upscale area. West 8th and Perry is as close as I can remember. For me it was pretty much culture shock and way, way to many people.

I'd seldom been out of the area I was born in and have no real memories of traveling anywhere except to the lake and stopping at places that were near the lake. TV was something I'd seldom seen and people who were any color but white were totally new to me. I didn't even know they existed.

Several of the chicks I've dated have remarked that I'm one of the few people they know who just isn't much concerned about color. We've even had conversations about why that is. I suspect that growing up without hearing a prejudice word about anyone may have had a lot to do with it that and the fact I didn't know anyone or have any opinions.

Still don't have any opinions for that matter. To me chicks are chicks and I like them all. Some better than others but that has more to do with personality than anything else. For the last several years I've dated more non white girls than anyone else. I was shocked when one girl asked me if I would go out with and be seen in public with her. My reply was why wouldn't I? You are beautiful, intelligent and fun and I'd be proud to be seen with you anywhere.

Her reply was, but I'm black. Lol, she was right about that. She was not light skinned or even medium toned, she was about as black as it gets. I told her not a problem for me and that most people would think it was a bigger problem that she was 35 years younger than me and 6 inches taller. Big freaking deal, she's a girl and I'm a guy and that's all that mattered.

Carmen put me to the test and we went out a few times. Held hands, kissed in public, walked arm in arm and did everything I'd do with any girl I went out with. We don't see each other anymore but that's because she moved to a different area of the country. I hope she finds a nice guy and has a great life because she's a nice girl and she deserves it.

Anyway, to get back to the subject. We moved to what was a very poor or depressed area. You'll never guess who lived next door. Two black families with kids my age. We played together every day for almost 18 months without a problem. Well, with the usual problems kids have with each other but nothing about color at all.

I also met Hispanic, Asian and Native American kids and never had problems with any of them either. We were all poor, we were all kids and we all played together. To this day I'm thankful that I met all of them and that we all had fun together.

Funny, baby T's heritage is 100% from India. Her mom has been here 7 or 9 yrs and her dad for a couple. Tonight she and I met 4 of the most gorgeous, polite, well behaved little girls I've met in a long time. Absolutely wonderful kids. So we have a little Indian girl leading an old white guy around and baby T talking to 4 children of the maintenance guy at the motel who just happen to be black. He and I have talked a few times but I'd never met his kids before. To me this is life as it should be.

Anyway, life in Sioux City was a bit better but still not great. I didn't get beat as much because my mother didn't dare do it on front of my grandfather. I never got the impression he liked me tho. Just tolerated me. I still got slapped, hit, pinched and beat, just not around my grandfather and seldom in front of my grandmother.

My grandmother hit me a time or two and one time she grabbed my arm so hard she left puncture marks with all 5 of her finger nails. She cried and she never hit or grabbed me that way again. Still, both favored my sister over me and I knew that. Hey, at least I had friends to play with and tv to watch.

So we moved and my life got a little better. The best thing was I wasn't being molested several times a week or more and I wasn't being beat 3/4ths to death. I was still depressed, missed my dad and my grandparents a lot and had even less than I'd had before.

Hell of a way to learn that a bike that's to big, to old and falling apart is better than no bike at all. That living close to a library is a good thing and having lakes to go to was even better. I didn't have much in Minnesota and I had even less in Iowa.

I don't remember being as depressed there but I still stayed out of the way of adults when it was possible. So my adventure being out in the real world begins.