I walked into the room and wondered why there was only one chair and a microphone that stood out from the wall . I couldn’t be sure if this was a dream or if this was my reality. I took a seat. (the only seat) A man in a ball cap handed me the script. So without missing a beat I looked it over, made some final notes, took a drink of water from the cup that made the journey with me all these years, and began to speak:
The memories attached to the following pages are filled with horror, joy, pain, deep sorrow and indescribable miracles. But if you are holding this book in your hands just now, you are the miracle in it all..read on. I remember seeing President Jimmy Carter on the second-hand television in our apartment. It was a space of humble beginnings. Which is odd because most seven year -olds never notice this type of thing. The air was that of bug spray mixed with smoke from a decades worth of nicotine or maybe burnt dust from the past. The room was like a box filled with stories to tell and no one left to open them. The neighborhood was like any other “hood” or at least that’s what I thought in my small finite brain. Drugs, kids on skateboards, abandoned units, and lots of kids like me at home after school waiting for mom to get home from work. Mom was always tired and she was always gone. After school, the ritual was nearly the same: Unlock the door with the key on the shoestring around my neck and make a snack. Watch the ridiculously over animated Speed Racer and listen to the radio…escape.
In those days I remember finding gadgets around our complex and trying to turn them into anything a young, bright detective named Encyclopedia Brown would use to solve a case. One could find money, one was good for finding bugs, and still another was used to listen to conversations of bad guys. Life was good and I was going to conquer the world of unsolved mysteries. On weekends, the radio came to life. The American Top 40 with Casey Kasem was the school I paid the most