Road Trip to California
So, here I was sitting in my car in California, trying to figure out if there was something I could have done on our drive out here that would cause these 2 men with guns to be approaching my car. The trip had been exciting. It allowed us to see and enjoy many tourist attractions along the two lane highway referred to as U.S. Highway 66, or otherwise known a “The Mother Road.” We originally got on Hwy 66 just outside of Chicago and took it all the way to California but to the best of my recollection there was nothing I had done to upset anyone. I hadn’t run anyone off the road or done anything I could remember that would have stepped on anyone’s toes. I was trying to think about the places we stopped and if I could have offended anyone.
Along the way, there was one place called “The Big Texan,” that had billboards all along The Mother Road, stating that if you could eat a 64 oz steak in less then an hour, it would be free. So we decided to check it out when we arrived in Amarillo, Texas. It turns out they had all types of strange foods, such as rattle snake, rabbit, mountain oysters (otherwise know as hog nuts) and buffalo. We didn’t do anything while we were there that should have upset anyone, although I did notice a group of around 12 to 15 bikers pulling in as we left.
It was the fact that they were so loud that originally got my attention. It looked and sounded like they could have been either Harley’s or Indian motorcycles. They were all wearing light blue colored jean jackets with the sleeves torn off, covering their black leather jackets. Their cut up blue jean vests or “cuts” as they were called, had some small patches on the front and a large one on the back, with an arched patch on top and below it. All I could tell about the patches is they were yellow and black, because I was so far away from them. Due to the distance between us, I am sure I didn’t do anything to upset or anger them, so we kept on heading west.
We also stopped at some famous motel that had rooms shaped like an Indian Tee-Pee. That was memorable also, but again, we didn’t do anything to infringe on the rights of others. We didn’t even talk to any of the other guests. We simply needed a place to eat, shower and get a good nights sleep. By the time we arrived in California, we were glad that we took the time to enjoy the drive and take in the sights along the Mother Road of America, but we both needed to get some down time so that we could rest, before the wedding ceremony. But now I have to figure out what mistakes I could have made or what I might have done to upset someone so much that a couple of guys would be waiting for us with guns.
Since I couldn’t recall anything inappropriate that I might have done on the way out here, I began wondering if these guys could be upset over something Dian or I did before we left Indiana? I tried to think back. Dian and I originally met at the Twin City Baptist Church in Mishawaka, Indiana. Dian and her family had been regular members of the church for years before I met her and she was as innocent as could be, so I could not imagine anything she might have done to upset anyone.
Dian’s Grandfather
Then I remembered something about her grandfather. I couldn’t remember if he was Italian or Sicilian, but one time when we were at his house, I was shown a nice big rose colored mirror that hung on the wall, directly across from all the front windows. If someone was sitting on the couch facing that mirror, they were able to see the traffic going by, or anyone walking down the sidewalk in front of the house. While looking at the mirror, I was informed the wall behind it was covered with bullet holes. Apparently back in the 1920’s, this house was shot up and the bullet holes were still in that wall. Since I used to play pool in a pool hall that was owned by a couple of Sicilians, I knew enough not ask any questions about why this house had been shot up.
But since that drive-by happened so long ago, I figured that even if her grandfather was “connected,” I couldn’t see any reason why they would track Dian down all the way out here, unless …… they wanted to kidnap her. What if they wanted to use Dian as a way to pressure her grandfather into doing or saying something? I did not totally dismiss that possibility, but kept on thinking of other alternate reasons for these guys showing up.
Then I began to wonder if her grandfather might have found out that we eloped and sent someone to find her and bring her back. Dian was under the legal age to get married in Indiana and her parents did not approve of her getting married to me, because of the trouble that I got into as a juvenile. So, we decided to go somewhere else to get married and start a new life together. That decision on my part, may have been at least partially a result of a personality quirk of mine that resisted being controlled by others, which included telling me that I can not do something. That stubborn streak of mine, is one of the things that has caused me lots of problems during my lifetime. Could that be it? Are these men here to stop us from getting married? Now, that seemed like a very likely possibility, IF, her grandfather had been and still is connected to any underworld figures. I would not dismiss that as the most viable option I had thought of so far, but just to be sure, I wanted to try and think of any other options.
Twin City Baptist Church
Once I began attending the Twin City Baptist Church, it did not take long for me to respond to an “alter call” and turn my life completely over to God. I began attending services twice on Sunday and even on Wednesday night prayer meetings. Eventually, as I grew in my faith, I also started joining the Tuesday night “visitations” where we would go visit with members that might be sick or missed services for other reasons, as well as trying in invite new people to come join our services. During those visits, there were also times that we got a chance to “witness” to others and lead someone to accept Christ as their personal savior.
I also joined their 90 voice choir and with all of the time we spent together at rehearsals and other events for the young people, Dian and I eventually started dating. She was so different from the type of girls I had been involved with in the past. I had finally met a “nice and respectable” girl my mother would approve of and coming from such a pure and innocent background, I could not imaging Dian would have had any ex-boyfriends that might have gone to the length of sending someone after her. Besides, we did not tell anyone where we were heading.
After turning my life over to God and meeting Dian, I thought my life was on a very positive track. I had put my old life full of pain and bad decisions behind me. I was no longer the angry and resentful kid that I had been in my past. I put all of the fighting and wild years behind me when I made that trip down to the alter and got down in my knees in front of God and the entire congregation. I was planning to go to Springfield, Missouri, so that I could attend the Baptist Bible College, and become a minister. I was about to get married to a good Christian girl. So, what could I have done to inspire or cause these guys to come look for us? Then I suddenly realized something. Could this have something to do with my old life before I turned my life around and started attending church?
Early Childhood
My real early childhood had been quite rough. I only had a 9th grade education but ended up going to ten different schools. That was partially because we had moved around so much. Another reason was because I spent most of my childhood living with a single parent. That was Very unusual during the 1950’s. Our life was nothing like the the TV shows or books represented the average family was supposed to be during that era. Heck, I didn’t even know any other children that came from a single family home, during that time frame.
That didn’t necessarily mean they didn’t exist. I am sure there were other kids that didn’t have fathers with them, it’s just that I can not think of any that I know. But then again, I really know very little of my youth, other than what I was told by others, or saw in the sparse collection of photographs from my past. To be totally honest, the first ten years of my life is a total blur. I have very little in the way of memories from that time period. I don’t know the total extent of what happened to me, due to PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, a phrase that, to the best of my knowledge, was never spoken of or mentioned in writing until 1980. All that I do know is that I have a handful of “snapshots” of specific events that took place during my early childhood and one reoccurring nightmare.
I will not go into detail as to the exact content of the nightmare, but it was detailed enough to let me know that something sexual happened between me and some man, when I was real young. To this day, I can not be positive as to who or how many men were involved, but I have a pretty good idea as to either the occupation or location of one of the man or men, in spite of not knowing any names or seeing any face.
Anyway, that event or multiple events, had a major influence on my entire life and while I have heard the comment many times that what does not kill you, will make you stronger, I can attest to the fact that while things in my young childhood did not kill me, they made me determined to resist allowing anyone to tell me what to do or what I can not do. While reflecting on my early childhood, for a split second I wondered if the man or men involved in doing things to me that were immoral and illegal, could be responsible for the two men with guns approaching my car. It was an interesting idea that I would keep available as another possibility, while I continued to research the dungeons of my youth.
As I continued to examine what little I knew about the first TEN years of my life, I could find no memory regarding the names or faces of any childhood playmates, friends or classmates. However, from stories and photographs, I know that I had three female cousins that I spent time with on occasions, but can not personally remember any actual events or faces.
The only aspects of my early childhood I can actually remember are trivial in the aspect of any connection to the California incident, such as the moment where my mother and I were on a city sidewalk when some man on a motorcycle pull up to talk to my mother. I was so intrigued with his motorcycle that I got to close to the exhaust pipes and burned myself. That initial interest in his motorcycle may have been at least partially responsible for my love of big Harley Davidson motorcycles during my entire adult life, but I don’t think it had anything to do with those men in California, approaching my car.
Another memory was of me climbing a tall set of steps outside of a building, that were leading to an upstairs apartment. Once I arrived on the landing, I could hear children inside singing “Happy Birthday” and it brought me to tears because it was my birthday and here these kids were celebrating someone else’s birthday instead. It was not until later that I discovered it was actually a surprise party for me.
There were two more short memories of my early childhood. One was of my brother and I walking through a field as we were coming down the side of a mountain in Pennsylvania and me stopping to tie my shoe. As I was sitting on the ground with my shoe off, I noticed a large snake right beside me. I was so scared that I got up and ran the rest of the way down the mountain without my shoe.
The last one was when I had joined the cub scouts and we went to a TV studio to watch the airing of a TV Show called “Pussy Platypus and Friends.” While the camera was filming our scout group, either I did not have a uniform or I did not have a cap, because my mother could not afford it, I can not quite remember which. But either way, I remember that I was bouncing up and down, so that my brother could recognize me when he watched the TV show at home.
It wasn’t until I actually listed these memories for this book, that I realized there were no happy memories from those first ten years of my life. It’s hard to believe that I could go through ten years of life, with no happy memories, but that was my life, as least from my perspective.
Moving to Indiana
When I finally turned ten, my life started to change. The first real memory of a actual person and object that I can recall, was being inside a 1952 Ford with my mother, my brother and my new step-father Bill Knapp. Wilbert was his real name, but we just called him Bill, and we were heading down the Pennsylvania Turnpike, toward Indiana.
The important aspect of this car ride to me was the fact that we were leaving Pennsylvania behind us and moving to Indiana. But that wasn’t the only improvement in my life. I actually had a man in my life that I liked and trusted. I think the reason I liked Bill so much is that he had a very outgoing personality and the most important aspect to me was the fact that he paid attention to me.
For example, as we were about to leave the state of Ohio, he asked me what the nickname was for Indiana. Of course, I had no idea, so he told me it was “The Hoosier State.” Sure enough, another mile or two, I saw a large highway sign stating, “Welcome to Indiana, the Hoosier State.”
What that meant to me was there was a man in my life that actually cared enough about me to try to teach me things and talk to me like a real human being. He seemed to care about what I was learning.
Another thing I remember about Bill teaching me things was after we arrived in Indiana and he took my brother and I to a movie. After the movie was over, he asked me what the title was and what it was about. I couldn’t tell him so he told me it was, called “Run Silent, Run Deep” and preceded to explain the meaning behind the movie.
Now that I am older, I realize one of the reasons he wanted my brother and I to see that movie is because it was about a U.S. Navy Submarine, during WWII and he had served in the Navy during WWII and wanted us to get a bit of an understanding as to how serious World War Two was and what some of the soldiers and sailors went through, in order to protect America from being taken over by Fascists and/or Communists. But at the time, as a kid, I simply thought he was trying to instill the importance of remembering details.
I have to admit, that as a preteenager in the 1950’s, I also thought Bill was a cool dresser. He wore short sleeve shirts that had the sleeves rolled up and had a “Flat Top” haircut, which was very popular or “cool” at the time and he had tattoos on his arms. He even encouraged my brother and I to get our hair cut into the Flat Top style, so that we would fit in with the other kids of that era. Plus he told me a story of how the sailors would take their bandanna or a handkerchief and fill it with a roll of quarters, then tie it around their hand, if/when they were about to get involved in a fist fight, to dish out a bit more pain with each punch. That little tidbit of information was something I was able to use and build on, during some of the troubling times of my youth.
Another asset that Bill brought into my life was music. He was one heck of a musician. I don’t know how many types of instruments he could play or how he learned to play them, but I discovered he was able to play the drums, trumpet, bugle, harmonica and sing. When we moved to Goshen, Indiana, he joined the local VFW and headed up their Drum and Bugle Corp. He even get let me play the cymbals with the group.
Unfortunately, Bill didn’t stick around very long. I don’t know why he left us, but while he was there, he had a very positive effect on my life and I will be grateful to him forever, for getting me away from Pennsylvania and helping me start a new life. To this day, while he may have only been in my life for a short period of time, he was a very positive father-figure to me and I was totally crushed when he left.
While writing this book, I have been able to make another connection. Years after the California incident, I discovered that my birth father who also served in World War Two and was injured, experienced some major mental and emotional times he would not discuss with anyone and now I wonder if the mental effects of what my father and my step father endured during the war, could at least in part, be the reasons their marriages to my mother did not last. That is a question I will never know the answer to, since all of the parties involved are now deceased.
But as I thought about my short time with Bill, I was also conscious of the fact that unlike all the negative memories I had of my life in Pennsylvania, my memories of life with Bill were all positive memories, with the exception of him leaving us. I also could not think of any connection Bill and his time with us could have anything to do with the men that were approaching my car in California, so I figured I better be paying attention to them and prepare myself for what ever was about to happen right outside my car, NOW.