45 years we’ve been in Kentucky. My high school years were the bomb—not. They were awesome—awesomely difficult. You see my parents took me from the corner stone of a major city where people were like dippin dots—no single one stood out, no one more important than the other and actually that was about the most normal things were ever going to be. Grade school was a block away and I walked to and from school and even came home for lunch (the dawning of the age of spaghetti O’s). After school I checked in at home and checked right back out. This was still the time when kids could for the most part, just be kids. Run the blocks on foot or by bike until 6:00 sharp for dinner,then back to the sidewalks, friends houses and the school playground.

1974 flipped the biscuit. Mom and dad dropped me smack dab into Appalachia. You see the great people of Appalachia are a culture all there own. A culture that I would one day, along time in the future come to love—but at the time my dippin dots just got turned into puddin pie. As a dear friend Zeke pointed out to me—probably by the time I was 8 or 9 I had figured out that I had surpassed mom and dad, needing them very little.

Sooooo—I needed a plan—I mean come on this can’t be that complicated—right? Wrong! Oh hell—it was going to be bad! Well anyway we’ll get to that. Freshman year is when I met Zeke. We dated for two years. Figuring out teenage concepts (you know) and fine tuning our developing minds (which means Carlos Castaneda style) and all of that sorta thing. But darling ones —-this would be a couple of building blocks to add to my foundation. My seemingly cracked foundation.

The majority of the kids at that school thought they were big shit because of a local company that most of their parents worked at. Basically you were or you were not. Being “not” I struggled with the entire concept because I really didn’t give a snot one way or another. Failing to be a tag along, I continued on my own path, with my own plan. Simple—I was going to get through this four years and motor on out the road back to Illinois and my wonderful grandmother.

Zeke went one way at the end of our sophomore more year and I went another. Dated around, floundered, babysat and cleaned houses. Trying my best to be anywhere but home. This was the peak of my fathers drinking problem. With Manhattans came anger.