THE BOY I USED TO BE

Most everybody I know is familiar with my history and they are probably tired of hearing it re-hashed and frankly, I am, too.

The boy I used to be made me the man I am today, with less hair, more weight and wrinkles and lines I have earned over the years = I've paid my dues.

So, this is a new history, one that brought me back to my native state, clinging to my little terrier dog Benjamin and running from an impossible situation in Georgia, where I had lived for 24 years. I consider Georgia my "second home" - did then and I do now.

This is a new chapter, or new chapters, as I face my last journey on the road that has been so bumpy and rocky over the years. I'm not going back past 1997, when I moved back to Kentucky, because this is the story of the Native Son who took a chance on a difference life from the one I had in Georgia.

Long story short about that move to Lexington in May of 1997, with Benjamin resting on his favorite quilt in the back of my little blue Dodge, my 4-door Dodge I bought when I got my Disability Settlement, my "crazy check" lump sum, if you will. I settled into an apartment, found a part-time job and spent the days taking care of Benjamin. He was almost 17 years old when he passed away in my arms, at home, on November 12, 1997. That day, I believe, altered the rest of my life, because I finally saw the meaning of true love, between a man and a faithful, loyal, beautiful little terrier who gave up the fight, couldn't go on any more.

I tried to foster a little blind dog named Henry, but I couldn't do it. After I took Henry back to the Humane Society, I realized what a grave mistake that was. But, it was too late. That day, too, altered the rest of my life.

And here I am, in 2016, a 70-year-old man who has completed his final arrangements and what a trip that has been!

While researching and soul-searching my Memoriam, I happened to see a picture of me when I was 16, a black-and-white photo of me sitting in the grass in my sister Marie's yard, with her son Terry Brent sitting in front of me. It looks like I'm showing off my class ring, so I must have been 16 at the time. It was an awkward stage because I was all arms and legs with a crew cut and very aware I was different from most of the boys in my senior class. I knew some of them were "just like me" but I really did not know what that meant.

But, I've come to terms with that = "the difference" = and have settled into a "routine" of routine things = taking care of my nine babies, my fur babies, rescued cats I have saved over the years, living in a trailer on a narrow road in the middle of the country. I've settled into that, too.

All the people I know are aware of my daily struggles but I try not to dwell on them and post them on Facebook, which a lot of people use to connect to other people. But, when I do slip and post something about the way my day is going, I go off on a tangent and go overboard, and I'm tired of doing that, because I don't want to portray myself as a Pitiful Pearl, whose life is centered around my survival.

But in reality, I "fight" to get through every day and that is not an exaggeration. Blind in one eye since October 2014 and diagnosed with MS that same year in May, I spend my days adjusting to those facts, but the BP Disorder I was diagnosed with in 1995 is thrown into that mix and at times, I believe I am living in a surreal world that don't exist for other people, just me and my babies. Well, that isn't true, I know there are other people around me, but they're like blurry images most of the time in my mind.

The MS has created its own set of problems, weakening my immune system which leaves me vulnerable to illness and parasitic infections = another thing to fight off. Most don't believe me when I tell of these events, so I don't go into it anymore. I don't want to force any information onto anyone, so I let it stay inside my mind, not sharing it anymore. I've just shared it here, but you know what I mean, share it in a daily conversation, no I don't do that anymore. My only sibling survivor, a sister, refuses to let anything register with her unless she can become part of the story and add drama to it. Otherwise, she doesn't really care what is wrong with me. Tied up in her own world, tied to her family and the church, afraid to break those ropes that would set her free.

I've become the man I am now because of the boy I used to be.

There are no ropes to bind me, no church to hold sway over me, no human to interfere in my life, but I am bound by a faith that takes me forward, a faith that was late coming into my life, but I know it has touched God on the shoulder and He has put His hands on me and guided me to this point on this long and treacherous road and from this day forward, I hope to keep my journey in this "blog journal" so other people can see, if they want to, what it is to be me and walk daily in my shoes.

I've become the man I am now because of the boy I used to be.