I opened the door and found them hysterically crying

It was deer season 1981 in rural Pennsylvania; the first hunting event I had experienced since moving from Southern Cali only a few month's prior. My younger sister and I were living with my older sister and her husband. They had a myriad of animals; horses, goats, cats & dogs. not to mention the occasional cow escapee from the neighbors farm. I was 14 and this was a new adventure for me; a new school, new friends, the quiet, the changing of the seasons. The first day of doe season my brother-in-law (Doug) dressed in his camouflage hunting gear gathered his rifle and met his niece and nephew at the door; excitement was in the air, anticipation of the hunt to come. My older sister was still in bed when Doug returned about an hour later; I asked him "Did you get a deer?" He shook his head no and hurried into the bedroom his wife was in. I stood there feeling strange when I heard what I thought was laughter coming from the room; I opened the door and found them hysterically crying. His niece had been shot and killed. It was an accident, a total accident, no ones fault, just a freak accident. While Doug was flushing the deer toward his niece and nephew; they were climbing into a tree. Lisa was first then, her brother, Scott was next handing her the rifle so he could climb up. The gun slipped and fired one round through Lisa's heart, she died almost instantly. Lisa had a one year old son and a husband; she was loved by many people and was greatly missed. This was new to me, death. I had never lost someone I cared about before and I was not sure what to do with these emotions. I had nightmares of Lisa getting out of her coffin and chasing me down the street and I refused to go to the funeral after the viewing. I just couldn't. I remember her face, looking like wax and so pale. Her husband lifted her hand to show me where the bullet had also taken out a big chunk of her thumb. It was all too much for my 14 year old mind. Too much. It was an accident, no ones fault. Just a stupid accident.

That summer was a blur and I do not remember much

My time spent at my Grandmothers house in Sacramento was rarely pleasant but I do have some interesting memories. The ruby red tea set my little sister and I played with is bright in my mind; I remember threats with it being taken away if we did not behave. There was also a garden with tomatoes and one day we found this horrible gigantic bug; I was told it was a potato bug; we also found huge caterpillars that we would have to pluck off the plants. There wasn't much room in the back yard to run and play and we were not allowed in the front yard. If we made too much noise we would be yelled at and threatened to be hit with a switch; one we would have to pull ourselves from the backyard. It was hard not making noise and we would be subject to the switch often, at first, then less and less as our spirit was crushed. My little sister and I also had to take naps everyday. I was six years old and naps were not something I regularly needed. but if we didn't take a nap we would get yelled at. I quickly learned to fake sleep but my little sister didn't; she got yelled at more than I did. That summer was a blur and I do not remember much; I think there were fireworks on the 4th of July. I missed my Dad and was happy when he finally found us and took us home but home wasn't the green house any longer it was whatever we could afford or whomever would let us stay with them. My father had lost his job due to a refrigerator falling on his back. We lost the house, our pets (DingDong & Quiney the cats and Kelly our German Shepard) and our stability. I think we stayed with my father's mother for a brief stint before my mother wished us girls off to Louisiana.

She took us away from the green house, from our pets, from our dad, and from a stable home for many many years to come.

I think I had an OK childhood up until my mother ran away to Sacramento to live with her mother (the first of many times she ran off); she took us away from the green house, from our pets, from our dad, and from a stable home for many many years to come. I am angry about this and wish I had talked to her regarding this issue and many others when she was alive; I now only have this blog to vent out my frustrations and the fears and the hurt I faced as a child. I digress; my mother had MS and when she started to experience the early onset symptoms ( blurred vision, loss of balance, unexplained weight loss) in her early thirties she went to doctor after doctor and was told the same thing over and over again; she was crazy, it was all in her head. I know this made her angry and she often spoke of how hurt she was that no one believed her and I believe this is when she began to shut down and stopped being a mother; her only concern was herself and my little sister and I received no more nurturing from her. I remember my mother loading us into the station wagon while making the announcement that we were going to live with Grandma and what fun it would be; she neglected to say that our dad would not be joining us. As the wagon pulled out of our driveway my father was pulling up; my sister and I waved to him out the car window as he stood there with a confused look on his face. We asked "Why isn't daddy coming with us mommy?" only to be told to be quiet and do not ask questions. This was the beginning of the summer of fear and uncertainty: I wanted my daddy.

Many thoughts ran through my head but panic was not at the top of the list.

I loved living in Southern California, not only for the weather but as a preteen/teen there was so much to do; beach, mountains, Disney Land, Knotts Berry Farm. .  . I remember quite clearly a trip I took with my church group to Knotts Berry Farm; A bunch of teens let loose to ride as many attractions as humanly possible! My favorite was the Corkscrew; it would go up up up and have you at a vertical straight back, then a pause and whew hoo!!!!!! around and around just like it's name. I do not remember how many times I hopped on this ride but the last time will always be ingrained in my mind. It had started to drizzle but nothing that would close the Corkscrew down. I wanted to be in the very front on this go around as did my little sister; we hopped in and waited anxiously for the ride to begin. The ride operator came by, checked our lap bar and gave the thumbs up for the ride to begin; click clack up up up we went and just as the front car got to the apex, just before it would drop us into a myriad of spirals. . . the ride stopped. Many thoughts ran through my head but panic was not at the top of the list; confusion, wonder, curiosity, impatience, maybe a little fear. I was a teenager; ignorant to the fact that tragedy could strike on amusement park rides and optimistic that all would be well once the ride started. It seemed forever that we were stuck there, in that vertical position, with our heads resting on the back of the car and ours eyes seeing nothing but the sky above us. I could hear the ride operators saying everything would be just fine, they would get the ride operating again shortly, do not panic, stay calm; wrong thing to say; my sister started to cry and so did others. I am ever the Polly Anna when it comes to others and I reassured my sister everything would be fine; that the ride would start soon and then the fun would begin! Inside I was becoming doubtful. Click click the car lurched and we were up and over the apex and spiraling our way around and around and then the ride was over. I was dizzy and shaky getting out of the car and saw the relief on everyone's faces; we were safe. I found out we had been up there for 15 minutes while the technicians tried to figure out what was wrong; they closed the ride and it was not opened again while I was there. This did not stop my love for roller coasters; I went on many other rides that day but none other has ever been as eventful.

I would show up at their house to ask them to play and would get turned away at the door

I remember my tenth birthday; we were living in the yellow house on Linda Rosa, it was March and it was a very nice day. The pictures from that day show a happy fat kid with a majority of her neighborhood friends sitting around a table while wearing party hats and eating cake. Two friends that were missing, whom I thought couldn't come, showed up and were immediately taken aback that they were not invited to my party. I had wanted them to come and had asked my mother to invite them but she had told me they would not be home. My friends left crying (I am ashamed that I do not remember their names, I do remember they were twin brother and sister) and my party was not the happy event it started out to be. I later found out from my mother and father that, because my friends were Filipino, my parents did not trust them and did not want them at our house. This was confusing to because we were welcome at their house and their grandparents did not take issue that my skin was white; at least not until the day of my birthday party. I would show up at their house to ask them to play and would get turned away at the door: I wanted to explain that it was not my fault, that I wanted them at my party, that my parents were the ones who didn't. One day, maybe a month later, I did get my chance but the damage had been done and are friendship was no longer.

She was left alone on a small gurney with no means of getting help from anyone.

This isn't my own memory but it is significant because it is the day I was born. My due date was March 28th and Easter was on March 26th of year I was born. According to my mother Easter Sunday was very stressful because everyone kept staring at her and wishing her into labor so I would be an Easter baby. They waited in vain because I refused to set things in motion until March 28th. My mother knew she would go into labor on my due date and around 8pm she began to feel labor pains. My father rushed her to the hospital and after that he is not mentioned again. My mother was taken to a room and evaluated and found to be only one centimeter dilated even though she was in excruciating pain and hollering out with each contraction; the process of getting her looked at took about three hours and it was getting close to midnight. The doctor told my mother it could be awhile before she was ready to deliver so they put her in a room and left her. She was left alone on a small gurney with no means of getting help from anyone; soon, she began to experience full on labor. She called out over and over for help but no one came to her aide and then she had to push; out I popped teetering on the edge of the gurney, about to fall to the hard floor. My mother sat up and was about to stop my decent when a nurse finally showed up to check on her; the nurse scooped me up scolding my mother for not calling out for help and whisked me away. The room became very busy as everyone was in shock and disbelief that my mother had gone from pretty much a standstill to having a baby in less than 30 min; without medical assistance. The next day my mother and father were ready to take me home when they were informed that I would not be going with them, that their baby was jaundiced and needing monitoring. This threw my mother into a rage and it took some doing to calm her down; she felt the hospital was responsible for my newborn illness because of the lack of support she received while delivering me. I was released two days later to begin my roller-coaster life.

I turned around to look at what I had stepped on and was horrified, terrified at what I saw, what I had done.

Some of my best childhood memories are from when we lived n the green house on Corson Street; before my father was injured and before my mother became ill and took us away to Sacramento. We had a dog; Kelly, cats; Tiger then Patty and Fluffy who had kittens which we kept two of Qeeny and DingDongDingalingOgden and two bunnies; I don't remember their names just that they were grey and white and that they didn't appreciate my five year old hands trying to pick them up. That is how I learned that bunny bites hurt. We had a big patio with a built in BBQ that was surrounded by a wall. My sister and I loved to ride our noisy Big Wheels back there. There was a gate that led into the big back yard that was also surround by a wall; the backyard was sunny and had one huge tree at the back center near the patio wall. There was also a tree in the far right corner that my sister and I could climb so we could look into our neighbors yard; they had chickens and goats. My father tried to make a bunny pen in the back yard but the bunnies learned they could dig and escaped under the fence into our garden; they particularly enjoyed munching on the carrots. One day our mother said we were invited over to the neighbors house to see the baby chicks that had hatched; they were so cute. I am not sure how many chicks there were but they seemed to be all over the place; I did my best not to step on them but . . .I was moving out of the way of one chick when my foot came down on something behind me; I turned around to look at what I had stepped on and was horrified, terrified at what I saw, what I had done. There lay a baby chick; it was twitching on the ground with blood coming out of it's beak. I somehow climbed over the wall and ran into our house crying the whole way; I felt so bad, so icky for killing the baby chick. My mother followed me home; she gave me hugs and reassured me that it wasn't my fault the it was an accident. Later that day she told me that the baby chick was going to be OK, that is had a broken wing and leg; I really wanted to believe her but I couldn't help but feel she was just trying to make me feel better so I would stop crying. Years later my mother confessed to me what I had known all along; Do you remember that chick you stepped on when you were five? Well, you killed it.