In 1966 my mother was pregnant again and had a boy. He became very sick and they had to transport him to San Antonio, the nearest Army hospital that had a heart specialist. Before my dad left to escort Christopher to the hospital he told me that I should pray for my little brother because he was dying. While my mom was in the hospital giving birth to my little brother my dad came home late one night. I had already gone to bed. I woke up to find my dad in my bed playing with my pecker, then he made me play with his and I don't want to talk about what else took place. I didn't know what to think, he kept telling me that he loved me. My mom had become very sick during this pregnancy and I had to take care of my brother and sister. When I got home from school it was my job to take care of them till bedtime. I had to feed them, bath them, and put them to bed. So to say the least I was not happy that she was going to have another baby that I would have to take care of. When my dad told me to pray for him, that's exactly what I did, but I prayed he would die. Guess what, he did die. Now I was carrying that guilt around with me til I was an adult. When my mom got home from the hospital I couldn't talk to her about what had happened with my dad because she was so depressed about my dead brother. The next time it happened I tried to tell her but she wouldn't believe me, she told everyone that I was just a trouble maker.
About six months later my dad got orders to go to Germany and he took us with him. A couple of months after we got there I found a job working with the Beer-man. This guy, Rolland, had a 14 foot flat-bed truck and it was loaded with beer and soda cases. He went around to all the American housing complexes delivering the beer and soda. There were 24 bottles to a case, the cases were either wooden or plastic, the beer bottles had those ceramic caps held on with wires, just so you know how much they weighed. I got to where I could carry one on my shoulder and two with my other hand. During the summer I worked with him all day, during school I only worked after school til we were done. Got pretty good money too, and of course I had to pay rent and buy my own cigarettes and what ever food items I wanted for myself.
My shoulders had already stated filling out because of the hay hauling days, by the time I started playing football in the fall my shoulders were out there.
When we arrived in Germany I stated the eighth grade, the school I went to was run by the Department of Defense. The local school only went up to the ninth grade, the high school was in Frankfort about 20 miles away. You could live on campus if your family could afford it, or you could catch the bus every morning at about 6am. When it came time for me to go my parents said they couldn't afford for me to live on campus. They had heard that there were a lot of drugs on campus and they didn't trust me. School started in August and we were being transferred back to the stated in December because my dad got orders to go to Vietnam. So my folks talked me into not going to school till we got settled back in the states. I would only miss one semester and would be able to catch up. I don't know why they didn't trust me, when all my other friends were smoking dope I didn't. I didn't start smoking marijuana till I was in the Army, but that's another story for a later time.
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