Chapter Five
Markham
My eventual stepfather would not marry my mother for years. They lived together in various places, but never tied the knot. They didn’t even get married after the birth of a second child. He stayed married to his wife for a long time and would frequently go and see her.
I previously mentioned that I went to fifth grade while living with my grandparents in a small town. (Just for shits and giggles, check out my grades for that school year.) By the time I was in sixth grade, my mother’s boyfriend had finally married her and they bought a house in Markham, IL.
Markham is/was a black, working class suburb of Chicago. It was a definite improvement over the inner-city. I was the only white kid in my class, but this was different. These people were not beating my ass or molesting me. I only got in a few fights while living there. Though I had a few friends, I always felt a little uneasy. We just didn’t have that much in common. What many refer to as “racism” is simply the lack of commonality.
I started reading novels in the fifth grade. Living in Markham, my reading exploded. I stayed home more than the average kid and read a ton of books. I still continue to read heavily and only slowed down a bit when I got married at the age of nineteen.
In the eighth grade, I started to try to fix myself. This would continue through high school. I read different religious texts. I read books on psychology, philosophy, history and anthropology. I even read books on the occult. This made my mother nervous. She once threw out a few titles. Perhaps she thought I was becoming a warlock. Rest assured folks, I’ve yet to cast a spell in my life. Well, at least not intentionally.
