Most normal autobiographies usually avoid pontification.* (Grandpa likes to use this word because a lot of “learned” people like to use it to show off their intelligence.)
*Pontification: to express one’s opinions in a way considered annoyingly pompous and dogmatic. Pompous: irritatingly grand, solemn, or self-important. Dogmatic: inclined to lay down principles as incontrovertibly true. Incontrovertibly: not able or allowed to be denied or disputed.
Hey, Grandkids! Let’s take it a step further and consider a generally accepted idea about where the word pontification came from. This will be fun and informative.
In ancient Rome, the pontifices were powerful priests who administered the part of civil law that regulated relationships with the deities recognized by the state. Their name, pontifex, derives from the Latin words pons, meaning “bridge,” and facere, meaning “to make,” and some think it may have developed because the group was associated with a sacred bridge over the river Tiber (although there is no proof of that). With the rise of Catholicism, the title “pontifex” was transferred to the Pope and to Catholic bishops. Pontificate derives from “pontifex,” and in its earliest English uses it referred to things associated with such prelates. By the early 1800s, “pontificate” was also being used derisively for individuals who spoke as if they had the authority of an ecclesiastic.
Most autobiographies stick to dates and events that are about the author’s life, according to the person’s point of view about whom the biography is written. That’s why it’s called an auto biography. A biography is an account of someone’s life written by someone else.
A normal autobiography is usually filled with specific dates that allow the reader to follow the events of the person’s life in chronological order (when things first happened in the past to the present date).
But as you are reading my autobiography, you’re probably beginning to see that it is far from normal, because good Ol’ Gramps is far from normal … very far.
I wouldn’t be writing this autobiography if I had not received instructions to do so by those who oversee what you will come to recognize and associate with me and my life:
Marvelous Work and a Wonder® (MWAW).
Do you see the ® symbol above?
This symbol provides notice that the preceding words have been legally registered with a national trademark office. A trademark can be words that are legally registered or established to represent a person, company or product.
The Marvelous Work and a Wonder® represents the Real Truth. The Real Truth is things as they really are, as they really were, and as things really will be in the future.
I am not the Real Truth. I am simply a messenger asked to deliver the Real Truth about things to the world. I am the only True Messenger upon this earth at this time, and there will never be another one. So, if you don’t get the Real Truth from me, you’re out of luck.
No, I’m not the only one upon Earth who knows how things really are today, how things really happened in the past, and how things will really be in the future. But I am the only one who is delivering the information to the world.
And guess what?
Although you’ll never be able to find out the Real Truth on your own, no matter how much you study and read, you, too, can know the Real Truth about all things … well, at least those things that are associated with and important to human reality—who we are and why we exist.
But to know this Real Truth, you’ll have to listen to my message.
Pretty simple, huh?
We discussed Grandpa’s narcissistic sociopathic personality disorder in the last chapter. And, oh my! Does Grandpa come across as arrogant and grandiose or what? But as we discussed, this mental disorder, as the world would call it, has to do with what Grandpa presents as the message he was asked to deliver to the world, not with how Grandpa is as a person.
As explained, if you had the chance to meet me, you would find yourself in front of a very kind man … pretty funny too … who might be highly intelligent and “know some things” (but you’d never know it), but who will not treat you like you don’t know anything.
In fact, when a person is in my presence, and isn’t there to hear the Real Truth, I treat the person according to the Real Truth about the person: that he or she is the only person who matters; that the universe revolves around that person.
I will listen to another’s perspective of things and will never discount what they believe to be true, even though what they believe is true is more than likely … how can I say it without offending anyone … horse shit.
The only mortals on Earth who have it right are little children.
I mentioned how much I enjoyed watching your cousin, Aydyn, during the first years of her life. I didn’t mention, yet, how much I enjoyed being around Ella (Joshua’s first child) while she was young. These two granddaughters were full of life, curiosity, and incredible independence. They knew who they were and why they existed, and acted like they did. And then they started to grow up and get older.
The older they grew, the more codependent they became. Sadly, I saw how they began to lose their innocent happiness, their curiosity, and their independence and become dependent on others for their self-worth and happiness.
Let’s define codependent here:
Codependent, noun: characterized by excessive emotional or psychological reliance on another person.
Both Aydyn and Ella became codependent on their parents, who had long since become completely codependent on the world, its values, its honors, glories, and successes.
Because I was Brittany and Joshua’s father long before I became their True Messenger, I had no right to intercede and tell them how to be a parent and help their daughters stay true to Aydyn and Ella. I did not interact with Brittany and Joshua as a True Messenger. I tried to always act like a worldly father, who didn’t know anything except what the world knew.
On one occasion I invited Brittany to have coffee with me. I tested the waters and threw out a line of conversation that I hoped would pique her interest to what I knew outside of being her father. I explained how hard it was for me to be around people who didn’t know squat about what they were talking about. She didn’t take the bait. I don’t know how she felt about the comments I was making about “stupid people,” but it was easy for me to see that she couldn’t have cared less about me as a True Messenger. She only wanted me as her father.
Although I have thrown out a line of interest a time or two, Brittany has never shown any interest in what I am doing through the MWAW. She only cares about what I can do for her as a father. Joshua has been a little different.
Ella’s dad took an interest in what I am doing in the MWAW and has read a lot of what I have written. Although I highly doubt that Joshua fully believes that there are highly advanced humans orchestrating and overseeing what I do in the MWAW, he has shown a greater interest in what I do than his sister. I believe he understands most of it. But, like Brittany, Joshua was more inclined to what I could do for him as a father, not as a True Messenger.
As a worldly father, I did everything that I possibly could for Brittany, Joshua, and for one of my other children, Rachael, who was also involved in my life for a time.
In Rachael’s case, she lived in California for a large part of her life. She hated LDS/Mormons for the longest time, having been influenced by the pontification of her mother, Vicky Prunty Batchelor.
Events would eventually bring Rachael to Utah where I was living. I was completely different than Racheal’s mother. And since Rachael was with me as her father, not as her True Messenger, I did not have any right to pontificate and influence her outside of supporting her, as I did all people with whom I made contact that were not interested in what I knew.
I questioned Racheal’s hatred for the LDS/Mormon people. Her parents (Vicky and I) were once very staunch LDS/Mormon. I told her that it was good that she lived in Utah so that she could get to know the culture of her parents. Rachael’s negativity towards the LDS/Mormons began to soften as she associated with and made friends with different people in Utah.
As her father, I never cut down anyone’s religion, but would support any of my children’s beliefs … as a father. Brittany was an avid atheist … so I supported her views. Joshua was more of an agnostic … so I supported his views, as a father.
And Rachael? Well, she was searching for her own niche of emotional security, and I never once pontificated to her what I knew about the LDS/Mormon religion … never.
And it came to pass, that Rachael fell in love with an LDS/Mormon man … a staunch LDS/Mormon man. He was going to school and had hopes of becoming an officer in the United States Air Force, making the military his chosen career. Nothing was more important to this man than God, Country, and Family. As his potential father-in-law, I supported the Real Truth about him: the most important person in the universe … at least from his perspective.
Rachael met with me one day and told me that she was beginning to “feel the Spirit.” She was falling in love with an LDS/Mormon. She asked me for my truth about God. She was not asking me as a True Messenger, she was asking me as her father. I only gave her what a normal father would want her to know. Not much Real Truth.
And it came to pass, that Rachael joined the LDS/Mormon religion and became a staunch believer in a man’s priesthood authority from God, in the specialness of the Eternal Family Unit, and in the belief that Heavenly Father was guiding her life by the gift of the Holy Spirit, to which only baptized members of the LDS/Mormon faith have access. Yeah, really!
Although as their father, I would continually support anything that my children wanted to believe and practice, as a person, I would NOT allow them, or anyone else, to disrespect me or treat me, or others, badly. If my children are not nice people, I want nothing to do with them.
After joining the LDS/Mormon faith, I asked Rachael how she then saw me. She responded, “You’re hurt and lost.” I wanted her to be specific so I asked her, “Do you believe that I am following the devil? Yes or no.”
Rachael would never come out and say that I was following the devil, but because of her new religious belief, she had no choice but to believe that I was. Well, I don’t like to be around people who are that mean and condescending that they believe another person is headed for hell because the other person does not agree with their religious beliefs.
I supported Rachael as best as I could … as her father. I would continually give her this advice,
“Rachael, stay close to your husband and to your Heavenly Father. I am your father and I will always love you.”
Yeah, this kindness and compassion was the narcissistic sociopath … the monster Rachael’s mother and my other critics and enemies think that I am. But anyways …
As I wrote, I did everything that I could do as a father for my children who had let me into their lives. I did not act like a True Messenger to them, and I doubt they cared much about what I was doing outside of being a father. But I had to test the waters just one more time with Brittany.
In 2018, I paid for Brittany to bring anyone she wanted to an all-exclusive resort in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico so that she could marry a man who loved her dearly.
(For this man’s sake, because he is a high ranking police officer on his city’s force, I will not mention his name. He doesn’t deserve to experience the ramification of being associated with me on any level. He treated me with respect as his father-in-law, and like his bride, couldn’t care less about anything else that I did, as long as I obeyed the law. Smile.)
But anyways …
After her wedding, I asked to meet with Brittany, Joshua, their partners, and Grandma Paula in my room at the resort. Grandma Paula refused to come … of course … I was still somewhat of a monster to her … But anyways.
I explained that I wouldn’t be flying back to the United States yet, that I was going to stay in Mexico and do some things with others involved in the MWAW … things that were associated with doing everything in our power to solve poverty and inequality. Although it was true … that I was meeting with my four mentors who were already there staying at a smaller hotel near the resort where Brittany’s wedding was held … I met with my kids to throw out another line about my role as a True Messenger. Brittany and Joshua, and their partners, didn’t take the bait. They simply didn’t care about what I did outside of being their father.
Joshua would finally marry a very good person, who, as a father, I believe is perfect for him. (Again, to protect her from any association with me that might affect her life or career, I will not name her specifically.) I gave them a large money gift for their wedding. I had now done all that I could have done for my children.
Of note, … and it came to pass that Rachael divorced the LDS/Mormon man and brought another man to meet me. She asked me my opinion of him, as a father. I did what I will always do with my children, who do not see me as a True Messenger, but as a father: support them, regardless.
Rachael didn’t introduce this particular man to her True Messenger. She introduced him to her father. But even as a father I knew the man’s heart. He wanted sex from Rachael. That was about it. And because of her new belief that Heavenly Father frowned on people having sex before marriage, Rachael rushed into another marriage.
As her father, who Rachael knew was far from religious, I gave her the advice to have sex with her new man and then repent to Heavenly Father later. I knew that once her new man was satisfied sexually, the real him would come out and Rachael would see him for who he really was and become very disappointed. Their marriage lasted about two months.
Rachael still needed a father, but there was no way I could compete with her Heavenly Father and the way that she respected Him. Rachael needed things from me but had no respect for my opinion or advice. She receives all the advice she needs from her religious leaders.
I’ve done all that I could do for my children as their father. And just like the rest of the world, since they couldn’t care less about me being a True Messenger, there’s nothing else I can do for them.
But what about you, grandchildren?
On November 19, 2018 (one of those specific dates), I called Aydyn to see if she had received the $100 that I had sent her in a birthday card. She hadn’t received it yet because she had just got home from school and hadn’t checked the mail. She checked the mail while I was on the phone and got the card. She opened it up and gasped, “Oh, my God! 100 dollars! I got to call my mom and tell her!” That was about all there was to Aydyn’s 11th birthday conversation with her grandfather. Yeah, really!
But isn’t this why grandparents are there, as a support network for their grandchildren and to give them things?
I tried for the first 10 years of her life to be that kind of grandpa to Aydyn. Ella only got her first 5 years to experience that kind of a grandpa. And Ella matured must faster than Aydyn. Ella was more independent than Aydyn. And it broke my heart every time I was around Ella to watch her become more and more codependent on the world and its values.
Selfishly, I decided to take myself out of my children’s lives … again. I had done it once before in 2009, but the timing of my departure out of their lives then was premature, as neither Brittany nor Joshua had yet established themselves successfully in the world. (More details on this later.)
Although I am no longer as active as a normal grandfather should be in his grandkid’s lives … attending their school activities, their sports, and the other things they are involved in from which they are losing their independence and becoming more codependent on the world for their self-worth … I am going to send each of my grandchildren, whom I know of, birthday money. I hope their parents give it to them so that they will always know that I am still their grandfather and that I will always be their grandfather … the way that normal grandfathers are supposed to be.
Maybe one day some of you will search me out. You’ll find me if you want. I’ll treat you like a normal grandfather should. You will find me to be a kind, compassionate, funny, and very giving grandfather. I will smile with you, listen intently about your life, and give you the best support and advice that a grandfather can.
But whatever you do, do NOT come to me as your True Messenger. I will destroy everything upon which you have become codependent in this world and lament (be sad about) how you lost your innocence and the Real Truth about who you are and why you exist.
You see, I have no choice but to pontificate while writing this autobiography. If you noticed the dedicatory page, this autobiography is dedicated to:
All Grandchildren Throughout the World.
It is subtitled, The Man From Joe’s Bar and Grill, referencing what was explained in its Foreword when one of the LDS/Mormon Twelve Apostles of Jesus Christ said [in his opinion about me] that God would not allow someone from Joe’s Bar and Grill to bring forth the Sealed Portion of the Book of Mormon. (Someone “From Joe’s Bar and Grill” means that the person is ordinary and non-significant.)
My mentors would explain why they directed me to write this autobiography:
(Beginning of what was published on the MWAW’s official website.)
We have counseled Christopher to proceed with his autobiography before helping us complete and publish our final book, The Dream of Mortal Life, Understanding Human Reality—A Final Warning to the Human Race.
Because the mortal experience does not allow for one to know the Real Truth about human existence, it is sometimes very hard to understand and apply its meaning to one’s own personal experience and knowledge with an un-transfigured brain.
The purpose of having a True Messenger is to deliver the Real Truth to other mortals. The True Messenger must be mortal and be familiar with the perceptions and perspectives of those from whom he received the message. He must also be able to understand the perceptions and perspectives of those to whom the message is intended. The True Messenger must be familiar with life upon Earth as it is experienced by those who live upon Earth when the message is delivered. Those reading the message must be able to identify with the message, as it pertains to their own personal experience as a mortal.
For this reason, we have counseled Christopher to present the events of his life from his own perspective, similar to how he would explain the events to his children. Christopher chose to do so as a message to his grandchildren.
Christopher has often struggled with the ability to convey the Real Truth to other mortals. It is hard to explain things to a mortal mind that is not set up to receive these things. In a religious context, we expressed this dilemma for a True Messenger in the following way. Referring to the term Christopher is using in his autobiography as his “transfiguration,” we wrote of our own experience:
“And behold, the heavens were opened, and we were caught up into heaven, and saw and heard unspeakable things.
And it was forbidden us that we should utter; neither was it given unto us power that we could utter the things which we saw and heard;” (Compare BOM, 3 Nephi 28:13-14)
We (those who oversee this marvelous work) do not have the “power” to “utter” (explain) the Real Truth, because our personal perception and perspective, gained from our experience, transcend any other’s living upon this earth. Because of his own transfiguration, Christopher understands our words, our perceptions, and our perspectives. It is given unto him to explain what we know in words that are comprehensible and consistent with those to whom our message is intended.
We have counseled Christopher to write his autobiography in such a way that it, not only gives the details of his own life, from his unique perception and perspective, but that it prepares the reader to be introduced to ours.
One’s perception is established as one lives one’s current mortal incarnate. Perception is the state of being or process of becoming aware of something through the senses. One’s personal perception is limited to one’s current mortal life. One’s perspective is the attitude that one has towards life, or rather, one’s point of view gained from one’s perception.
Having experienced life upon Earth for so many years, and having been alive throughout so many different time periods in which mortal incarnates were made available to others in OUR GROUP of advanced humans assigned to this earth, our perception is greatly enhanced. Therefore, our perspective is much different than any other’s.
Thus, we do not have the “power” to “utter” the things that we know about life upon Earth, since the beginning. If we tried, our efforts would fail to the incomprehensibility that results from one having an imperfect mortal brain.
Our brains are perfect mortal brains, as we have explained were possessed by all mortals living upon this earth during the First Dispensation of Human Time. However, there are those of us who have not lived since the beginning of time, whose brains still maintain the established effects of the time period in which their bodies were created. These have joined us for the specific purpose of being able to provide Christopher with another set of tools (different perceptions and perspectives) that can help him deliver our message.
Over the next few months, Christopher will be counseled and allowed to complete his autobiography. We will publish the first draft of his words on the official MWAW website under the category created: Christopher’s Autobiography.
Not only will his efforts help others come to know the details of his peculiar life, a life that has been largely directed towards our need for a True Messenger, but it will provide Christopher with the practice that will be required of him to explain our perception and perspective of the Real Truth to you.
Our perspective of human reality—who we are and why we exist—is the Real Truth. It will be presented to the world through the book, The Dream of Mortal Life, Understanding Human Reality—A Final Warning to the Human Race.
Until this book is complete, may the world benefit from the simple perspective of our chosen True Messenger as he parlays his mortal life experience into a presentation of Real Truth that will leave no excuse for the world’s ignorance.
This is our prayer.
(End of what was published on the MWAW’s official website.)
As my biological grandchild, you can read the story of my life and take away from it what you want … maybe what you’d expect from a normal grandfather. If you have approached reading my autobiography as that of your grandfather, you’re going to be disappointed.
In my role as a True Messenger, I am everyone’s grandfather.
You probably read all those big words at the beginning of this chapter. I defined most of them for you so that you wouldn’t lose your concentration as you read. Most people read, and when they come to a word that they don’t understand, their brain gets a bit confused and they lose track and concentration on what they are reading.
So, let’s get rid of all those big words and let me sum up what the MWAW teaches about what’s really going on in this world in words that I would tell 10-year-old Aydyn and 5-year-old Ella:
God, religion, history, education, and everything else that your parents think is good is a bunch of bullshit. (“Language!” little Ella would interject here. [Yeah, really!])
You’ve probably heard about Jesus, Mohammed, and Joseph Smith at some point in your life. But none of these men left an autobiography. None of them left anything that you could read where they wrote about their own lives in their own words. Everything you read about these men was written by bad people, usually men, who want to make you think that they know everything about everything and that you should listen to them and pay them money for what they know.
These bad men don’t know shit! (I know, Ella, “Language!”)
Jesus was not even a real person. The story of Jesus has been used by bad men for a long time to make other people codependent on them so that these bad men could get money and honor from other people. These bad men wrote things that they said were from God. They call these bad things that they wrote scriptures. These bad men made up a guy named Moses and made people believe that God talked to Moses and gave Moses commandments for the people to follow.
And guess what kind of commandments of God these bad men made up? Are you ready for this shit?!
These bad men said that God told Moses to command the people to grow food and raise cows, chickens, and other animals and then give the best part of their food to the bad men. The bad men would take the best part of everything that the people had, burn a small portion … and say that they were sending the good smell to God in heaven in the form of smoke … and then keep the rest for themselves so that the bad men didn’t have to work in the fields or raise their own animals to eat. Yep, that’s what bad men do.
There’s a lot of bad men and bad women in the world who do the same things to people. They pretend to speak to God, or to someone or something out of this world that you can’t see or hear, and receive direction for you and your life, but only if you give them money and honor them for being God’s special person through whom you can receive God’s message.
“But Grandpa, isn’t that what you are doing in your MWAW?”
FUCK NO! (I know, Ella, “Language!” but Grandpa wanted to emphasize the answer and show how he can now pronounce the ‘f’ sound just fine … But anyways …)
What Grandpa teaches is that YOU are the only God that exists. That YOU do not need anyone else to tell YOU what God wants you to do … and you certainly do not have to pay Grandpa for any of his information. And Grandpa can answer all of your questions about this world, how it was created, when it was created, where it was created, why it was created, and most importantly, who created it … if it was created.
Listen and I’ll make it pretty simple for you to understand:
You dream, right?
When you enter your dream, where did the dream world come from? How was the world in which you are having a dream experience created? When was your dream world created? Where was it created? Why was it created? Who are all these dream people that you associate with in your dream? Where did the landscape and the animals and the rivers, streams, oceans, flowers, trees, and everything else come from? It is really pretty easy to understand who created it … YOUR MIND DID!
Now, that was a pretty simple way to explain the Real Truth about who YOU are and why YOU exist. But it gets a bit more complicated when you wake up from your dream and find yourself living in the only world that you have been taught to believe is the only real world.
But your dream sure seemed real while you were dreaming, right?
Confused, you start searching for answers. Your parents don’t know shit so they send you to school to learn about the world. Your teachers don’t know shit. Your teachers teach you out of a book written by a person who didn’t know shit, but had convinced your teachers that he or she does because he or she studied a bunch of shit written by other people who didn’t know shit.
When grandpa was trying to figure out all the shit for himself, I heard this popular song on the radio (yeah, I know, what’s a radio right?). I didn’t quite understand the song when I heard it as a teenager, but I sure understand it now:
When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful
A miracle, oh, it was beautiful, magical
And all the birds in the trees, well, they’d be singing so happily
Oh, joyfully, oh, playfully watching me
But then they sent me away to teach me how to be sensible
Logical, oh, responsible, practical
And then they showed me a world where I could be so dependable
Oh, clinical, oh, intellectual, cynical
There are times when all the world’s asleep
The questions run too deep
For such a simple man
Won’t you please, please tell me what we’ve learned?
I know it sounds absurd
But please, tell me who I am
I said, now watch what you say or they’ll be calling you a radical
A liberal, oh, fanatical, criminal
Won’t you sign up your name, we’d like to feel you’re acceptable
Respectable, oh, presentable, a vegetable
Oh, take, take, take it, yeah
But at night, when all the world’s asleep
The questions run so deep
For such a simple man
Won’t you please, please tell me what we’ve learned?
I know it sounds absurd
But please, tell me who I am
Who I am
Who I am
Who I am
Who I am
‘Cause I was feeling so logical
Yeah, one, two, three, five
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Ooh, it’s getting unbelievable
Richard Davies and Roger Hodgson, the song writers, knew more about Real Truth than any of the bad people who want your money so that they can tell you what God wants you to do, when they don’t have a fucking clue who or what God is. Davies and Hodgson were humble and honest. They realized that they didn’t know shit about shit.
Until June 16, 1987, I didn’t know shit about shit. But I thought God knew. So I asked God … and well, I already explained what happened then. God told me and I knew!
The real God told me. The real me. The highly advanced human being who is dreaming about being Christopher.
This real God can only tell me what is right for Christopher because there are about 15.07 billion other real Gods that exist in my true reality and take part in my dream as Christopher.
Brittany would become the step-mother to a young boy, whose name I will also withhold. Brittany would treat this young boy almost exactly like Gloria treated me. It hurt me more than Brittany would ever know as I witnessed how she treated and talked about this young boy. Brittany didn’t know shit. Gloria didn’t know shit. But neither did anyone else in this shit of a world.
The years living on the Ucon farm were beautiful, magical. All the birds in the trees …. which my dad would shoot with his shotgun … well, they’d be singing so happily, Oh joyfully, playfully watching me … until my dad shot them with his shotgun.
I watched my dad load his shotgun and shoot at the birds in the tall trees that lined the front of our farmhouse. At first, it made me sad as I watched birds fall out of the trees and struggle while taking their last breath upon Earth … during my dream. I didn’t question if my father had the right to shoot them. He was my father. He knew best for me, so he must have known what was best for the birds.
My father didn’t know shit for shit.
My father shoved the LDS/Mormon faith down my throat. I ate it up and it became the most important thing in my life, as the bad men had told me it should be.
My dad sent me away to school to teach me how to be sensible, logical, oh responsible, practical. I went to Ucon Elementary, then on to Ammon Junior High, where I would be shown a world where I could be so dependable, oh clinical, oh intellectual, cynical.
Because the bad men were so good at what they did, I didn’t once wonder who I was or what I was supposed to be doing. I was a member of God’s only true and living church. I was respectable, oh, presentable, a vegetable. My life plan was already outlined for me: go to school, go on a mission, come home from my mission and create my own Eternal Family Unit. And if there was anything else that God wanted me to do, God would tell me through his chosen bad men … I mean leaders.
During the mid-seventies, land prices shot up in Idaho. The farm that my father had agreed to purchase from Gloria’s family had tripled in value. I then learned another valuable lesson in life: family really doesn’t matter when money is involved.
Gloria’s brothers and sister wanted more money from my dad for the farm. My dad was the only one who wanted the farm after Gloria’s dad died in 1971. But now that it was worth three times as much, Gloria’s wonderful LDS/Mormon brothers and sisters wanted what they felt was their fair share.
At the end of the seventh grade, my father packed us up and moved us north to Kalispell, Montana. We were very poor, but I didn’t know it at the time. I found out later that my dad borrowed a bunch of money from his mother so that we wouldn’t starve when we moved.
Alesa had joined us in Idaho after my mother decided that she would be better off with her brothers and being raised by Gloria. With the addition of Alesa and Gloria’s own kids, Kevin, Joel, Jill, Bridgett, and Paulette, our family of twelve moved to Montana.
I was enrolled at Evergreen Junior High. Jody was enrolled in the 7th grade there and I in the 8th.
As the new kids, it was some kind of a school tradition that the new kid arm wrestle other boys to test his strength. A kid named Mike Kirk had been held back a year and was the toughest kid in school. But I had just come from a couple of years of milking a cow every morning and night. Needless to say, your wrists and forearms get a pretty good work out from all that milking. I easily beat every boy who challenged me at arm wrestling. Mike Kirk smirked and let the other boys test me.
The arm wrestling match was set for Kirk and me during a lunch period. The teachers and the Principal were all in on it and supported the event as something traditional of Evergreen Junior High. Mike and I locked hands and the match began.
I held him firm and would not let him budge my arm towards a loss. Throughout the match, I would bend his arm slightly towards the side that would signal a loss for him. But my narcissistic sociopathic behavior (according to my critics and enemies) took over.
Although I could have easily won the match anytime I wanted, I held Mike’s arm in the neutral position. I still remember his red face and the effort he was making trying to bend a cow-conditioned right arm. I held his arm in the neutral position. I had no intention or desire to beat him. I felt sorry for him and didn’t want to take away the value that he had as being the strongest kid in school.
A lot of the kids were cheering for Mike. And one lone voice was drowned out cheering me on: Jody’s.
My kid brother was yelling for me to beat Mike and take the crown. I refused.
The match went well beyond lunchtime. Finally, the Principal had to call the match. It was recorded as a tie. Mike and I became pretty good friends after that. Had I beaten him, there wouldn’t have been any friendship. Somehow, my True Self told me this, even at 13 years old.
I would get my first real kiss at Evergreen Junior High and I was our school’s star basketball player. My older brother, Mike, had whipped my ass in basketball all those years we lived on the farm. Mike could make 10 free throws in a row. When I first started, I could barely get the ball to the rim. But I wanted to be like Mike. In the dead cold of winter, I would put on my gloves and shoot baskets until I made 10 in a row. I never did. My brother Mike never let up when he played sports with us. He kicked my ass in everything we played. Mike was my idol. In trying to stay up with him, I became very strong and athletic. I would never beat Mike, although I tried repeatedly, as a kid.
By the time I finished 8th grade, I could finally beat Mike at basketball. I could make 10 free throws in a row anytime. But more important to me at the time, was that first kiss.
A girl named Danette Harmon would teach me the ins and outs of the french kiss … more in than out. Danette Harmon would teach me what Gloria Harmon could not: the love of a woman.
All I needed from Gloria was to love me as her son. She never did. Gloria took care of my physical needs, but I never once felt any part of a motherly love from her throughout my childhood. Danette taught me how much a girl could love me. Danette not only loved me, she adored me.
One day, I was very late getting home to a three-bedroom, single-wide trailer in which we lived as twelve people. I shared one of the bedrooms with Kevin, Joel, and Jody. I pulled a mattress out from under the bunkbed where Jody slept on the top and Kevin and Joel slept on the bottom. Mike and Cory slept in the front room. Alesa, Jill, Paulette, and Bridgette shared the other small bedroom, and Gloria and Dad had the large bedroom.
I knew I was late arriving at home from seeing Danette. I thought I was going to get in trouble, so I quietly tried to sneak in to the trailer through the back door just off the kitchen. I quietly opened the door and saw my father with his head down sitting at the kitchen table with Gloria standing next to him with her hand on his shoulder. I overheard my dad talking about how we didn’t have anymore money and he didn’t know what we were going to do.
This was the first time in my life that I ever thought about money and where our food and clothes came from. My father and Gloria has always provided us with everything that we needed … not necessarily what we wanted, but what we needed. We boys wore each other’s old clothes when one of us grew out of them. We each had only a couple of changes of clothes to go to school in, and not any more than one or two pairs of shoes each. I had no idea we were poor.
For fuck sakes, we had twelve people in our family and we lived in a single-wide trailer at the Evergreen Trailer Park. When we first arrived in Kalispell, my father found a seven bedroom house for us, more than likely with the money my grandmother had given him. We moved shortly thereafter to the small trailer, probably because Dad’s job as a life insurance agent wasn’t going too well. My dad did a lot of jobs … a lot.
I remember a time on the farm in Ucon when Dad was working for Supreme Foods, a company that sold bulk food to people. My dad was a salesman. One day he came home and announced that he had just made a huge sale and that he made a lot of money from it. I guess that sort of stayed in my mind and comforted me for all those years in thinking we had money. I saw the food stamps that Gloria used to buy food for us. I saw the food that was from the Church, but I thought that this was the normal way of getting food. What I didn’t know then, that I found out later, was that huge sale that my dad made, a stranger bought it from him. My Dad has probably forgotten the man’s name who bought all that food … that the man didn’t actually need, but bought to help out my dad. That man’s name was … well, I came to call him Timothy.
But anyways …
I finally learned something the night I was sneaking into our trailer: we were dirt poor.
I felt so bad for my dad and Gloria. But what could I do?
Danette was caressing my tongue with hers in ways that I never knew were possible. She once tried to get me to take off my clothes and have sex with her. I didn’t have a clue what “having sex” meant, but I knew that Heavenly Father didn’t want me doing it until I was married, so I had to disappoint Danette and keep my clothes on.
It wasn’t long after graduating from Evergreen Junior High, with the distinguished title of Second Strongest Kid (I didn’t mind allowing the title to Mike Kirk), that my dad packed us up again and moved us all the way to California.
Our Junior High graduation song was appropriately, Evergreen, sung by Barbara Streisand. Each time I would hear the song in the future it would remind me of my short time living in Evergreen, Montana, where I had my first kiss and found out another important lesson in life: there are a lot of poor people in the world who struggle to have enough food to eat.
“Love ageless and evergreen. Seldom seen by two.”
I was never taught what the love of a mother was. But I was beginning to find out what love meant between two people, at least according to the world.
The Real Truth would teach me that the song, Evergreen’s lyric’s were correct: Love … Seldom seen by two.
So my life goes on …
Ooh, it’s getting unbelievable
But anyways …