Where To Start...

I suppose the correct place to start would be with me. As far as which part of me, that is the difficult part. I am a 24 year old engaged college student who attends school full time while working full time in customer service and helping run a family business. My family consists of an endless list of bodies, whom you will meet as we go on, some of which are actually related.

In telling this story, I will try to make it as true to life as possible. Unfortunately, however, memories can be sprinkled with fiction to protect oneself from pain. Having said that, I have decided that truth is more important than perception and hope that everyone involved understands that this is not intended to trample on their feelings.

All of the names have been changed to protect the innocent, wonderful, and crazy. I will let the readers decide who falls into which category.

To begin, I should do some background, or at least what I know of it. My story starts many years before I was born.

My Mother was raised by a woman we refer to as the Wicked Witch (of the West obviously). WW was her maternal grandmother. My mom and her sister were adopted by WW when they were fairly young, a burden my mother felt all of her life. WW ruled a very strict religious household in which my mother could do no right and my aunt could do no wrong. The two girls were never allowed to attend functions like school dances or to spend time with friends, something that would cause my mother great strife later in life. Trips beyond the house were for school, church, or sometimes grocery shopping.

I don't know much at all about WW's husband, other than he was a Danish immigrant and she was his second wife. The fact that my great-grandfather was Danish has little importance in my life other than a really good explanation as to my looks.

On my biological father's side, there is little to know. From what I can remember they were con artists, people who scammed other people for a living. Again, they died when I was very young, but their mere existence and choice of lifestyle would later play a big part in the irony of my life.

My mom married Him (my biological father) when she was 19, not at all uncommon back in the mid 1970's, and settled into a happy life with Him in their small town in middle America. Again, I don't know a whole lot about their life exactly, just that they were happy. Nine years after they got married, they had me and my mother set out to make sure I did not have the childhood she did.

I don't really remember any of my childhood, some of it I can figure out, matching photos with stories, but no actual memories of my own.

My brother, Bubby, was born the year I turned five and I was excited. I was a very social and outgoing child, never knowing an unkind person and having this new person in the house to play with was wonderful. As a side note, our mother never wanted to use the "Bubby" "Sissy" names, but it happened anyway.

My childhood was a happy one, unlike Bubby's. I got the joy of having just over a decade of normalcy. I got to enjoy peace and tranquility in my youth, something that he doesn't remember. We were active in the church and in scouts, were in dance and sports groups and had many friends who came over often. In the warm months we spent all of our time outdoors, biking and skating, climbing trees and fences, and running through corn fields near the loony bin.

To be fair, I should stop and elaborate on that last statement. We. Lived by the loony bin. Okay, it was a residential facility for the mentally handicapped, but to a bunch of elementary and middle school kids... It was the loony bin.

When I hear people talk about arranged marriages and how great they are, I always think of my mother's first marriage. Essentially both sets of parents thought it was a good idea. It was not a joyous occasion for my mother, rather something to which she was expected to attend. There was no bridal gown, no celebration.

Except.

My mother's marriage came crashing down around us. This hadn't been some quick relationship where the guy turned out to be a creep, by the time Bubby was born, they had been together roughly 13 years and no one could have predicted what would come next. In fact, it would be another seven years before everything came grinding to an ear-shattering, mind-numbing halt.