Back in the Saddle Again... 2) Catching Up

  So now, we roll ahead to 2017 and my long-unseen Dad #1. He would come over from 45 minutes away and we'd drive around town, looking at places he hadn't seen in decades...there was a Winn-Dixie here...our family owned and operated this dairy...climbed that tree in the 1940s. Drove past my grandparents' house; he died in 1977, she in 2000.

  I did some house math at one point and learned that we'd lived 9 blocks from them for a few months. In our present house, had I known of them, I could have spent some time with my grandfather before his end and two whole decades with my grandmother.

  "Out of sight, out of mind" doesn't really help, there.

  Past some of our former homes...this shopping center used to be a pecan orchard...so-and-so family owned everything north of thius road (and so-and-so-road is named for them)...he arrested Black folks in this neighborhood, hookers in that one...in one visit, I met a step-sister I couldn't remember. We went to most of the local cemetaries so he could visit old friends and relatives, more people I didn't know anymore, if I ever did. As we wound up the ride, he'd head for the local scrap recycler to offload a bunch of beer cans--and he'd split the takings with me. From there, we hit lunch at Po'Folks, every single time.

  Being around him was just like at the various schools; I was the New Kid again, outside. Even more so, since it looks like most of the family on his grandmother's side are right-wing fundies, orange-boy supporters. They all go to the same local megachurch. Outside more for the family stuff, not being the token liberal in most social groups. I'm used to that.

  Hell, both my exes are/were conservative--and so was the one woman at a former job who showed some interest in me. I kept things friendly, since there's no way I'm getting stuck with another wingnut. Apparently that's all there are, hereabouts. Single is much quieter. Peaceful.

  Father #1 was like that--scump supporter, at least. Not particularly fundie. Definitely racist, though. At one of those Po'Folks lunches, he did the look-around white folks do when they're going to say something racist: "I'm just glad they didn't elect that"--look around--"n***er," when we were discussing the recent gubernatorial elections that put a wannabe nazi into power. Funny how he was a cop, but he's okay with mobsters in power.

  Lost touch with him when Covid came around, after January 2020. Learned a few months ago that he died nearly a year ago. I didn't know him well enough with the handful of visits, a few hours at a time, to miss him. "Out of sight, out of mind" strikes again.

Back in the Saddle Again... 1) Catching Up.

   Some cobwebs in here, but those will clean up easy.

  So...when I left off, I was about to meet my long-estranged adoptive father.

  

What I know:

  My mother married him for the first of FOUR times in April 1967; they adopted me in September.

  Last divorce was April 1973; she bailed that last time with me and my sister, and I never saw him again until 2017. I never saw ANY of his side of the family--both grandparents, whatever extended family...all gone. She stripped all the photo albums and memories--even my name. I'd been named for Richard--a "Junior"--and nicknamed "Little Charlie." Bleah.

  Knowing as little as I do about Richard, I can guess he was an asshole of some sort. Mom wasn't exactly Princess Peaches, herself. But he must have done something to drive her to strip him out of everything, right down to my freaking name. I remember taking several days to choose what I wanted it to be--and I distinctly remember wanting to be "Keven," because I was seven and they would have the visual rhyme. My dumbass sister said I couldn't because she didn't like the "misspelling."

  No idea how I ended up with "Jody." Fifty years on, I still don't like it. But I picked it.

  Sure as hell not going to revert to freaking Charlie.

  So Mom remarried, now to Husband #4, two weeks after that last divorce. Apprently this one took and her 6 previous weddings/divorces collected dust. They stayed together till death did they part. Tons and tons of pictures--but never in those old photo albums.

  Dad #2--"The Old Man"--became "New Dad," for a while. I can't say I knew any different or even thought much about my previous life, since I get very "out of sight, out of mind" very quickly. An email correspondent goes dark...I might be months or years along before I remember and think to go looking. That's actually helped me in the past--and may even be an adaptation I made to adjust to this new life.

  We had quite the migratory lifestyle, we three families. By the time of that last divorce, we left Richard at house #5. Five houses in 6 years. I began First Grade in House #6, an apartment in West Palm Beach. I walked to school.

  The house I own today--inherited--was #14. We moved here the day after Christmas: I started the second half of Fourth Grade in a completely new town, new school, new kid. I walked to school.

  NINE. Nine houses in three and a half years--just think of all those friends left behind. "Out of sight, out of mind" becomes a blessing. I don't know what the deal was. Maybe the two of them were running scams, just packed up and bailed i there was a whiff untoward. The Old Man had a criminal past. Funny that Mom left a cop for him. hahahahahaha!

Part 2 posting...soon.