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.