Bleeding Perseverance - Episode 23

Autobiography Fridays

CHAPTER 9

Some Introductions And A Goodbye

Mom was staying at the house on Airport Way, but Grandma made sure it was only for a short period of time. After about a week we found an apartment on Stanislaus Street, not that far from South Hunter where we had lived years before. Again having trouble with the street name, we called it ‘Santa Claus’ street. One by one our relatives stopped by to see me. Not being a little kid anymore, they didn’t treat me as such. Finally, some respect.

Mom still had her ol’ negative ways when it came to dealing with the world because, well, that’s Mom. But she did seem rather upbeat compared to before. This was for two reasons. One, the newness of having me back hadn’t rubbed off yet. And two, she had something to tell me. She was involved in a relationship. A Chipawa Indian guy named Fred, whom she had met through letters. Why letters? Because he was in prison!

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Fred was young, like in his early to mid twenties. Mom had written him because the ad he had placed stated that he was Native American. Being the open-minded kid I was, his incarceration didn’t bother me, and so we were off to Ione’s Mule Creek State Prison to visit him.

The prison was out in the middle of nowhere. It reminded me of the time I spent in the cell in Hawaii, only this was a million times worse. It was so bare. So contained and depressing. Fred was a shy guy. He had a light complexion and long hair. You always hear horrible stories about prison life. I wondered if he ever had to endure any of that.

Naturally curious, I wanted to know what he was in for. He was doing three to five years for burglary. Nobody at the prison knew he was in for another crime as well, because if it would have been known he would have been toast. He had also been charged and convicted of sexual assault on a minor. His young niece. I didn’t know exactly what he supposedly did to her, but he swore it was a lie. That her parents just wanted to get back at him. Well, it wasn’t my place to judge and he seemed sincere.

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After about a month in Stockton Mom wanted to move to Sacramento, about forty miles away. Some of Fred’s family lived there and she thought there would be better opportunities. Fred’s father was dead. I don’t know if I ever knew how it happened, but I think it had something to do with the Exxon Valdez disaster, because he had worked on it and an inheritance was left to Fred.

We benefited from his inheritance as well. Whenever Mom was strapped for cash she’d go into this ‘not wanting to ask him but having no choice’ act. He’d write a statement on a napkin or whatever else was available at the visits and sign it. It basically told his attorney to give Mom such amount of money. His attorney didn’t like Mom or the arrangement, but didn’t have a choice in the matter. Usually the amount was for a few hundred dollars at a time.

This helped us get a cheap Datsun B210. Mom wasn’t that good at driving a stick, but it got us to Sacramento. As usual, she didn’t budget the money well and we ended up having to sleep in that small car for a few nights.

With another signed napkin we got into a motel and ate out a lot.