About four years after Adrian’s death, when Adriana was in the 5th grade, Adriana and a friend were walking home from school. They passed a guy in a car. He called to them wanting them to come over. They took a few steps towards him and saw him masturbating. They totally freaked out! When they got home they were crying and so upset. We finally got them calmed down so they could tell us what happened. When I heard what happened I was beyond rage! I got my gun, took my daughter’s friend home, and I literally went out to hunt this guy down and kill him. I didn’t call the police or involve the authorities…I didn’t trust them. They never found the killers of my baby girl, so I never trusted that they would get the job done. I didn’t want them involved in anything in my life. I had no use for them. I would take care of my own business. So Adriana and I drove around awhile and found the guy near another school. I pulled up behind him, got out of my car, and walked up to him. I knew it was him because he was masturbating again. I grabbed him by the hair and shoved the gun in his mouth. When I put the gun in his mouth I felt some teeth break, and saw blood running down his face. I wanted to be the last person he saw before he died. I pulled back the hammer. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. Then I heard Adriana cry out, “Daddy, Daddy, don’t! Please don’t! Please don’t do it!” Then I came to. It was like I was dreaming or in a trance. I looked at the guy for what seemed like for a long time and walked away. If it wouldn’t have been for Adrian telling me not to do it he would have been dead. I thought about it later and wondered how my little girl had so much power over me at that moment.
Another incident I feel I should tell is, a bunch of us went to a party at a buddy’s house where there were around 150 people at. Drinking and drugs were going on all day and night. By about four in the morning almost everyone was gone. We were looking for the guy who threw the party and we finally found him in the guest house on the floor. He was a heroin addict and had overdosed. He was still alive, but we did nothing. One of the girls that was there put his head in her lap and we all waited for him to die. And after he died we just left him there. We didn’t call 911 because the police would have shown up, and there would have been an investigation and we didn’t want to deal with that, so we just let him die. At the moment we were all so high that it seemed to make sense just to let him die and not involve the police, but later I felt bad about just leaving him like that. We were cowards. Three days later the police found him dead.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Coffee with Mike (Part 4)
In the fall of 1987, Adrian and Adriana went to their first day of school. They loved it. When they came home they told us “everything” they learned that day, how much they liked their teacher and the other kids. The year went well. Then the next year they started first grade...the real stuff. My little girls left first grade with above average grades. Little did we know that year would be the last holiday season myself, my wife, and both my precious little girls would ever spend together again.
The summer between first and second grade was awesome. We went to see the giant Redwoods, Yellowstone Park, and Disneyland. The girls were so excited to go to second grade that their mom took them on a special girl’s day out. They went shopping, to lunch, and just had a fun day. They were total girly girls. They loved shopping, buying clothes, trying them on, and modeling them around the house. That day though, when they got home I built a small runway and they modeled all their little outfits for me…spinning & dancing. It was a lot of fun for us all.
The first day of school came and went. Then in early October every parent’s nightmare unleashed. Sunday, October 7th, 1989 was supposed to be day of barbequing and fun at the park. Debby, the girls, Debby’s sisters, and a few friends…probably 12 of us total…were there to spend the day together having fun. The girls were playing in the park. About 3 pm, it started cooling down and when I looked up see where the girls were I couldn’t see Adrian. At first I didn’t think a whole lot of it…just kept looking to try and figure out where she went. But after a while of her not showing up I began to panic…she went missing. After about 30 minutes of searching with the help of people in the park we called the police. We were crazy, frantic…it is hard to explain how it felt. It is definitely one of the worst feelings I have ever experienced though. The police showed up immediately scouring the neighborhood knocking on doors, a helicopter was in the air blowing the bull horn for hours. We even had people come in from other counties to help, but there was no description of anything to help guide us. Nobody saw anything…nobody knew what to look for….nobody saw anybody grab her. It was terrible because we had no leads to go off of. Adrian was gone and no one had seen what happened. But everyone kept searching. The first day passed. The second day passed. The police said it didn’t look good. On the third day at 1:15 pm we got a call…“They think they found her. Would we come to the morgue?” I was sick…”God please don’t let that be Adrian! Please let her be alive still!” When I got to the morgue I had to go in to identify her. Debby didn’t go in. I didn’t want her to see our daughter like that if it was her. When I went I saw her beautiful face...it was her….my precious baby girl. She was gone... I was supposed to protect her and I failed. The search and rescue teams found her in the San Bernardino Mountains in a suit case, nude, cleaned, and her tiny body in pieces…dismembered. No evidence left. From the look of the suitcase it looked like she was probably thrown from a moving car 18 to 24 hours earlier. There was no respect shown…they just threw her out the window of the car…just got rid of her like she was trash! Anger and revenge brewed in me. If I ever found those guys I was killing them! Even if the police found them I was killing them! They would pay for what they did to my daughter and family! Somehow, someway I was going to find those guys. But the men were never found. My mind wouldn’t stop thinking about all the horrors she must have gone through during her final hours. Where was I? Where was her daddy when she needed him the most? I was sure thoughts like that were going through her head right before she died. From this point my life shifted. I would never be the same…how could I? My daughter was brutally taken from me! And I wanted vengeance…I dreamed about what I would do to those men if I ever found them! I was so caught up in myself and how I felt about Adrian that I couldn’t be there for Debby and Adriana the way they needed me to. I should have been strong for them. None of us went to counseling or anything. We did what we could to try and get “normal” again as a family, but how do you find “normal” after something like that? Adriana and I became even closer. She had lost her best friend, and I wasn’t about to lose her! I wouldn’t let her out of my sight for one second! I would take her to school and pick her up. I wouldn’t let her do a lot of things that other parents let their children do. She was only 7 and didn’t know how to express herself. She didn’t know how to explain the things she was feeling inside. She became very quiet and afraid, unless she was with me. She wouldn’t even open up the front door of the house. I needed to protect her and make sure she was safe. She continued to do well in school with around a B average, but she stayed very quiet and reserved. Sadly as we got closer she and Debby started slowly growing apart, just like Debby and I also slowly grew apart. I think in the beginning Debby and I were blaming each other, though we never said it out loud, but it was obvious that was happening….though I blamed myself more than anybody else. I was her father and I should have been there to protect her and save her! I did feel some animosity toward Debby…why wasn’t she watching her too? If we were doing our job this wouldn’t have happened. There are a lot of stupid and crazy thoughts that come into your mind after something like this, and it is hard to see clearly what is logical and what isn’t. I started spending more time with my friends, and got heavily into drinking. I couldn’t get enough. I always needed more. I couldn’t drink enough to dull the pain I felt inside.
The summer between first and second grade was awesome. We went to see the giant Redwoods, Yellowstone Park, and Disneyland. The girls were so excited to go to second grade that their mom took them on a special girl’s day out. They went shopping, to lunch, and just had a fun day. They were total girly girls. They loved shopping, buying clothes, trying them on, and modeling them around the house. That day though, when they got home I built a small runway and they modeled all their little outfits for me…spinning & dancing. It was a lot of fun for us all.
The first day of school came and went. Then in early October every parent’s nightmare unleashed. Sunday, October 7th, 1989 was supposed to be day of barbequing and fun at the park. Debby, the girls, Debby’s sisters, and a few friends…probably 12 of us total…were there to spend the day together having fun. The girls were playing in the park. About 3 pm, it started cooling down and when I looked up see where the girls were I couldn’t see Adrian. At first I didn’t think a whole lot of it…just kept looking to try and figure out where she went. But after a while of her not showing up I began to panic…she went missing. After about 30 minutes of searching with the help of people in the park we called the police. We were crazy, frantic…it is hard to explain how it felt. It is definitely one of the worst feelings I have ever experienced though. The police showed up immediately scouring the neighborhood knocking on doors, a helicopter was in the air blowing the bull horn for hours. We even had people come in from other counties to help, but there was no description of anything to help guide us. Nobody saw anything…nobody knew what to look for….nobody saw anybody grab her. It was terrible because we had no leads to go off of. Adrian was gone and no one had seen what happened. But everyone kept searching. The first day passed. The second day passed. The police said it didn’t look good. On the third day at 1:15 pm we got a call…“They think they found her. Would we come to the morgue?” I was sick…”God please don’t let that be Adrian! Please let her be alive still!” When I got to the morgue I had to go in to identify her. Debby didn’t go in. I didn’t want her to see our daughter like that if it was her. When I went I saw her beautiful face...it was her….my precious baby girl. She was gone... I was supposed to protect her and I failed. The search and rescue teams found her in the San Bernardino Mountains in a suit case, nude, cleaned, and her tiny body in pieces…dismembered. No evidence left. From the look of the suitcase it looked like she was probably thrown from a moving car 18 to 24 hours earlier. There was no respect shown…they just threw her out the window of the car…just got rid of her like she was trash! Anger and revenge brewed in me. If I ever found those guys I was killing them! Even if the police found them I was killing them! They would pay for what they did to my daughter and family! Somehow, someway I was going to find those guys. But the men were never found. My mind wouldn’t stop thinking about all the horrors she must have gone through during her final hours. Where was I? Where was her daddy when she needed him the most? I was sure thoughts like that were going through her head right before she died. From this point my life shifted. I would never be the same…how could I? My daughter was brutally taken from me! And I wanted vengeance…I dreamed about what I would do to those men if I ever found them! I was so caught up in myself and how I felt about Adrian that I couldn’t be there for Debby and Adriana the way they needed me to. I should have been strong for them. None of us went to counseling or anything. We did what we could to try and get “normal” again as a family, but how do you find “normal” after something like that? Adriana and I became even closer. She had lost her best friend, and I wasn’t about to lose her! I wouldn’t let her out of my sight for one second! I would take her to school and pick her up. I wouldn’t let her do a lot of things that other parents let their children do. She was only 7 and didn’t know how to express herself. She didn’t know how to explain the things she was feeling inside. She became very quiet and afraid, unless she was with me. She wouldn’t even open up the front door of the house. I needed to protect her and make sure she was safe. She continued to do well in school with around a B average, but she stayed very quiet and reserved. Sadly as we got closer she and Debby started slowly growing apart, just like Debby and I also slowly grew apart. I think in the beginning Debby and I were blaming each other, though we never said it out loud, but it was obvious that was happening….though I blamed myself more than anybody else. I was her father and I should have been there to protect her and save her! I did feel some animosity toward Debby…why wasn’t she watching her too? If we were doing our job this wouldn’t have happened. There are a lot of stupid and crazy thoughts that come into your mind after something like this, and it is hard to see clearly what is logical and what isn’t. I started spending more time with my friends, and got heavily into drinking. I couldn’t get enough. I always needed more. I couldn’t drink enough to dull the pain I felt inside.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Coffee with Mike (Part 3)
My daughters were good girls, very special. Debby and I took such joy in them! Watching them learn to walk and talk and potty train. We enjoyed every minute with them. They liked to wake up early in the morning, before Debby and I. They would get all their baby dolls and stuffed animals out and put them in a circle, sit in the middle, and watch Care Bears and My Little Pony’s on TV. They were only two years old at the time. They wouldn’t come in in the mornings and wake us up and bother us. They would just wait until we got up. And vacations were always special with them. We got to see the Giant Red Woods, and went to places like Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farm, Universal Studios, the beach…everywhere.
When the girls were about three, every couple weeks on a Saturday morning, Debby and I would fill up their bedroom with balloons and just watch them have fun all day long. It took us about half a day to blow up all the balloons by mouth, but it was fun for us all. They would go in and pop em’, play in em’, and jump in ‘em. Those were good times!
I was eventually laid off from Goldworthy and we decided to move to San Bernardino, CA where Debby’s two sisters and kids lived. There wasn’t much manufacturing going on there at the time, but we still had some savings left so I started working on bikes again doing welding. I would weld the frames and my friend would put them together. I was good at it from my high school days. I got to know a lot of the “hard core” bikers from different clubs and some of us actually became good friends. Actually the major biker gangs all started in San Bernardino back in 1950s, so I knew a lot of the hard core, old school bikers and became good friends with a lot of them. I never did get in a club though, at that time. A bunch of us just started hanging out together and riding together. I never got the tattoos like they all get…I just wasn’t into the tattoo thing. So everything was going good. I had my wife, two beautiful girls, and a nice little place we were living in. Everything was wonderful especially the holiday season. The girls loved Halloween. They wanted to have the perfect costume, and when we got home from a long night of going door to door dad had to go through the candy and make sure it was “good”. Thanksgiving was a big, fat feast, but of course the girls and I always fell asleep on the couch after dinner. Christmas was our special holiday, just like every other family, watching the kids open their presents, screaming in delight.
Adriana was the shy one. She had a little bit of a speech impediment and couldn’t say her “L’s” or “S’s”, and I think she was shy because of that. But Adrian was very outgoing, but not wild. She would just come up to you before Adriana would. Those girls were so close! They were always together.
When the girls were about three, every couple weeks on a Saturday morning, Debby and I would fill up their bedroom with balloons and just watch them have fun all day long. It took us about half a day to blow up all the balloons by mouth, but it was fun for us all. They would go in and pop em’, play in em’, and jump in ‘em. Those were good times!
I was eventually laid off from Goldworthy and we decided to move to San Bernardino, CA where Debby’s two sisters and kids lived. There wasn’t much manufacturing going on there at the time, but we still had some savings left so I started working on bikes again doing welding. I would weld the frames and my friend would put them together. I was good at it from my high school days. I got to know a lot of the “hard core” bikers from different clubs and some of us actually became good friends. Actually the major biker gangs all started in San Bernardino back in 1950s, so I knew a lot of the hard core, old school bikers and became good friends with a lot of them. I never did get in a club though, at that time. A bunch of us just started hanging out together and riding together. I never got the tattoos like they all get…I just wasn’t into the tattoo thing. So everything was going good. I had my wife, two beautiful girls, and a nice little place we were living in. Everything was wonderful especially the holiday season. The girls loved Halloween. They wanted to have the perfect costume, and when we got home from a long night of going door to door dad had to go through the candy and make sure it was “good”. Thanksgiving was a big, fat feast, but of course the girls and I always fell asleep on the couch after dinner. Christmas was our special holiday, just like every other family, watching the kids open their presents, screaming in delight.
Adriana was the shy one. She had a little bit of a speech impediment and couldn’t say her “L’s” or “S’s”, and I think she was shy because of that. But Adrian was very outgoing, but not wild. She would just come up to you before Adriana would. Those girls were so close! They were always together.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Coffee with Mike (Part 2)
After High School I went to work and got a few funky jobs. They were all right for just being out of high school. The one I had the longest was Goldworthy Engineering, where I learned welding and the art of metal work and fabrication. It was around this time (about 1980) that I met Debby at a bar. Her legs caught my attention. It was a hot summer day and she had really short, little, pink shorts on. We were sitting at the bar and I asked her if she wanted to go out back and smoke a joint. She said, “Yeah, but you will have to take me home because I will be too wasted to walk home.” We kept hanging out afterward and would meet at the bar a couple times a week. We started going out to dinner. We would go back and forth between each other’s places. She was living with her mom and her two sisters at the time. She was four years older than me (12/6/53 was her date of birth). We dated a couple years before I proposed to her, and by the time I proposed to her we had been living together in my apartment for a while. The day I proposed to her we were both half lit up, and I said to her, “Why don’t we just get married…we are living together anyway?” And she said, “Ok.” So we got married, and that was that. No fancy proposal. We got married February 27th, 1981 in Long Beach, and Debby got pregnant right away. After a couple doctor’s appointments we found out Debby was pregnant with twins. I was excited, nervous, and very happy. It was a cool surprise. Debby had an easy pregnancy, and we had our two, beautiful, twin girls on January 8th, 1982 on Elvis Presley’s birthday. We named them Adrian and Adriana Lampton. I remember that day very clearly. It was an awesome day! Debby labored most of the day with the girls, but it was amazing to finally see them. They were my little girls, my special little girls. I was so overwhelmed with them. I couldn’t believe it! They were so little! It was an amazing feeling! I just couldn’t believe how small they were! How two little beings, that were a part of me, could be that small!?! They were mine! My little girls…part of my body…my blood. I wanted to be there every minute for them. I was their daddy…their protector!
Monday, March 15, 2010
Coffee with Mike (Part 1)
Hi All!
Well I am finally getting Mike's story on here to share. I am sorry it is so long in coming...life just seems to keep happening around me and easily gets me off track it seems. But I finally have gone through the interview tapes I have from when I met with him, and I am ready to share them. I will have to post in sections though as it is quite long. Just a note to you readers. I really tried my best to keep Mike's testimony in his words and not mine. I wanted you to feel as though you were listening to him...reading his own words and story, and not reading my representation of it. When I was transcribing his story I often just typed exactly what he said, so as you read you are reading Mike share his story...not Ranae telling Mike's story. Some parts of his life are pretty hard core. When we talked he felt strongly about having his whole story shared because he hoped that people would learn from it...he hoped something good would come from something so bad. I pray that is the case. May you be blessed as you sit with Mike and share in his life Journey.
Now go grab a cup of coffee or tea, and sit with Mike for a little bit....
My name is Michael J. Lampton. I am 51 years old and was born in Denver, Colorado on November 15th, 1957 to my parents Harold & Charlene Lampton. I am the oldest of four kids. I have a sister named Kathleen and two brothers named Roger and Patrick.
I was about five or six years old when my family and I moved to Long Beach California. We all moved out there so that my dad could look for a job. He was a bad alcoholic, but managed to find a few jobs here and there to keep us going. When we first got to Long Beach he got hired as an auto-mechanic at a shop. My mom was always a stay at home mom. We eventually found a little house to move into which was right next door to Wesley United Methodist Church. It was the churches property and my mom got a job with them as a janitor to help pay for the rent on the little house. It was probably a 600-700 square foot house with four kids and two adults. The rent there was just $35 per month, hard to imagine these days! We lived there for 14 years until they eventually tore that little house down and we bought our own house there on the corner.
I did well through school. Not a whole lot to tell about school. I was in the Boy Scouts growing up. My dad was Scout Master, Weeblo’s leader and Cub Master. He went through all the scouting with us boys as we were growing up. My dad and I were close. My parents were involved in PTA. Every time there was something going on they were there.
As a child I went to church at the church we lived next to. I was in junior choir and was a member of the youth group. Any time they had any kind of youth activities I was always there…that is until I turned 12. About that time I got out of it, but as far as Jesus being in my life…it was only as a child between the ages of 6 and 12. After that we stopped going to church , and stopped doing anything with the church. I don’t even know why. The only one who kept going was my mom. She went every Sunday. But us kids just drifted out of it. My dad never went, but he was the maintenance man for the church. Anything that needed to be done, he would do…plumbing, painting (he painted the whole church twice, and it was a huge church). He knew everybody that went to the church. Everybody liked him and he liked everybody, but he never attended a service unless it was a Christmas or Easter service.
Six or seven years after we moved to Long Beach my dad got really heavy into alcohol. I was about 10 when this started happening. He would get his paycheck and would be gone for a couple weeks, and then would come home like there was nothing wrong or nothing ever happened. I remember my mom driving around town with me in the car and she would stop at all these bars and I would have to run in and look through the front door to see if he was sitting there. I did that for a long, long time….a couple years probably. I hated doing that because I was either ratting on him if he was sitting there at the bar, or I would be lying to her if I would say that he wasn’t there. I didn’t like getting caught up in that mix. I am not sure what made my dad change like that. He never mentioned anything about his childhood. I never did see my dad drunk. He would do this every couple months or so, but I never did see him drunk because he would always sober up before he came home, and he would always take us kids to a store and buy us a toy when he got home. I guess that was his way to relieve his guilt or something…I don’t know. When my dad would go away for two weeks I did feel like I had to take over some of his part of the responsibility as head of the household. This went on for five or six years. I think it was really tough on my mom, but she always played it off and when he came home there was no arguing or fighting. There were no repercussions for him doing that. I don’t know what was said behind closed doors of course. Back then in the late 60’s and early 70’s it wasn’t that big of a deal for the husband to be the alcoholic and run around…not like it is today. It was known but it was kept within the family and a few close friends. I always loved and respected my dad. I didn’t hate him. What he did was just something I grew to know….something we all just accepted. I didn’t even know it was wrong for a while because it seemed so normal. As far as I know he did everything he was supposed to do as a father. What finally made my dad stop was that my mom had given him an ultimatum. I found the letter on top of the refrigerator one day. She kicked him out and he was staying in a motel. He was begging her to come back and said he would never do it again. I think he was gone two or three weeks, and when he finally came home he kept to his word and didn’t do it anymore.
I went to Woodrow Wilson High School in Long Beach, California. During High School I started meeting new people, and all my buddies were the car and motorcycle guys. We got into racing our cars, but the guys and I didn’t get in a lot of trouble…maybe just once in a while when we were racing up and down the street. We built our own little funky motorcycles. They wouldn’t go over 10 mph, but we didn’t care we still thought we were pretty hard core. You know…long hair, beards, wanna-be outlaws, drinking and smoking pot. On the weekends we would go to somebody’s house with a bunch of beer and pot and party. We stayed clean during the week for the most part, but had fun on the weekends. I only had a couple girlfriends in high school. I wasn’t really into them much. My group of friends and I were more into motorcycles. We weren’t the jocks that all the girls wanted. I graduated High School in 1976 with a 3.4 grade point average, so I did pretty good in school and enjoyed it.
(Check back soon for the next post from Mike...)
Well I am finally getting Mike's story on here to share. I am sorry it is so long in coming...life just seems to keep happening around me and easily gets me off track it seems. But I finally have gone through the interview tapes I have from when I met with him, and I am ready to share them. I will have to post in sections though as it is quite long. Just a note to you readers. I really tried my best to keep Mike's testimony in his words and not mine. I wanted you to feel as though you were listening to him...reading his own words and story, and not reading my representation of it. When I was transcribing his story I often just typed exactly what he said, so as you read you are reading Mike share his story...not Ranae telling Mike's story. Some parts of his life are pretty hard core. When we talked he felt strongly about having his whole story shared because he hoped that people would learn from it...he hoped something good would come from something so bad. I pray that is the case. May you be blessed as you sit with Mike and share in his life Journey.
Now go grab a cup of coffee or tea, and sit with Mike for a little bit....
My name is Michael J. Lampton. I am 51 years old and was born in Denver, Colorado on November 15th, 1957 to my parents Harold & Charlene Lampton. I am the oldest of four kids. I have a sister named Kathleen and two brothers named Roger and Patrick.
I was about five or six years old when my family and I moved to Long Beach California. We all moved out there so that my dad could look for a job. He was a bad alcoholic, but managed to find a few jobs here and there to keep us going. When we first got to Long Beach he got hired as an auto-mechanic at a shop. My mom was always a stay at home mom. We eventually found a little house to move into which was right next door to Wesley United Methodist Church. It was the churches property and my mom got a job with them as a janitor to help pay for the rent on the little house. It was probably a 600-700 square foot house with four kids and two adults. The rent there was just $35 per month, hard to imagine these days! We lived there for 14 years until they eventually tore that little house down and we bought our own house there on the corner.
I did well through school. Not a whole lot to tell about school. I was in the Boy Scouts growing up. My dad was Scout Master, Weeblo’s leader and Cub Master. He went through all the scouting with us boys as we were growing up. My dad and I were close. My parents were involved in PTA. Every time there was something going on they were there.
As a child I went to church at the church we lived next to. I was in junior choir and was a member of the youth group. Any time they had any kind of youth activities I was always there…that is until I turned 12. About that time I got out of it, but as far as Jesus being in my life…it was only as a child between the ages of 6 and 12. After that we stopped going to church , and stopped doing anything with the church. I don’t even know why. The only one who kept going was my mom. She went every Sunday. But us kids just drifted out of it. My dad never went, but he was the maintenance man for the church. Anything that needed to be done, he would do…plumbing, painting (he painted the whole church twice, and it was a huge church). He knew everybody that went to the church. Everybody liked him and he liked everybody, but he never attended a service unless it was a Christmas or Easter service.
Six or seven years after we moved to Long Beach my dad got really heavy into alcohol. I was about 10 when this started happening. He would get his paycheck and would be gone for a couple weeks, and then would come home like there was nothing wrong or nothing ever happened. I remember my mom driving around town with me in the car and she would stop at all these bars and I would have to run in and look through the front door to see if he was sitting there. I did that for a long, long time….a couple years probably. I hated doing that because I was either ratting on him if he was sitting there at the bar, or I would be lying to her if I would say that he wasn’t there. I didn’t like getting caught up in that mix. I am not sure what made my dad change like that. He never mentioned anything about his childhood. I never did see my dad drunk. He would do this every couple months or so, but I never did see him drunk because he would always sober up before he came home, and he would always take us kids to a store and buy us a toy when he got home. I guess that was his way to relieve his guilt or something…I don’t know. When my dad would go away for two weeks I did feel like I had to take over some of his part of the responsibility as head of the household. This went on for five or six years. I think it was really tough on my mom, but she always played it off and when he came home there was no arguing or fighting. There were no repercussions for him doing that. I don’t know what was said behind closed doors of course. Back then in the late 60’s and early 70’s it wasn’t that big of a deal for the husband to be the alcoholic and run around…not like it is today. It was known but it was kept within the family and a few close friends. I always loved and respected my dad. I didn’t hate him. What he did was just something I grew to know….something we all just accepted. I didn’t even know it was wrong for a while because it seemed so normal. As far as I know he did everything he was supposed to do as a father. What finally made my dad stop was that my mom had given him an ultimatum. I found the letter on top of the refrigerator one day. She kicked him out and he was staying in a motel. He was begging her to come back and said he would never do it again. I think he was gone two or three weeks, and when he finally came home he kept to his word and didn’t do it anymore.
I went to Woodrow Wilson High School in Long Beach, California. During High School I started meeting new people, and all my buddies were the car and motorcycle guys. We got into racing our cars, but the guys and I didn’t get in a lot of trouble…maybe just once in a while when we were racing up and down the street. We built our own little funky motorcycles. They wouldn’t go over 10 mph, but we didn’t care we still thought we were pretty hard core. You know…long hair, beards, wanna-be outlaws, drinking and smoking pot. On the weekends we would go to somebody’s house with a bunch of beer and pot and party. We stayed clean during the week for the most part, but had fun on the weekends. I only had a couple girlfriends in high school. I wasn’t really into them much. My group of friends and I were more into motorcycles. We weren’t the jocks that all the girls wanted. I graduated High School in 1976 with a 3.4 grade point average, so I did pretty good in school and enjoyed it.
(Check back soon for the next post from Mike...)
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