Conclusions
Between what I learned about my childhood, what I learned in California, what I learned as a freewheelin’ contractor and what I learned as a homeless person, I’ve come to some conclusions. In this final chapter I’m gonna break them down to you.
My stepfather was involved with the U.S. military and had acquaintances on the Chicago police force. I knew that as a child. With some additional knowledge gained later in life, I know exactly what happened to my family in the 60s.
Though my father was in the English army during WWII, he was from Poland. That country became communistic after the war. Flash forward to the sixties and my father, proud of achieving “The American Dream” has on numerous occasions invited friends from his country to visit him. This is during The Cold War and The Cuban Missile Crisis. Well, that certainly got the attention of a few people. On top of that, he was a successful immigrant. He had three kids in Catholic school, a wife that didn’t need to work, and a rather nice house. They preceded to gaslight the hell out of him. I researched the media at the time. They went so far as to have a babysitter teach lyrics to a five year old.
My stepfather never intended to get my mother pregnant. That was an accident. You have to remember that he didn’t marry my mom for years. He continued to see his wife for a very long time. Eventually, he was trapped and had to. He died in the house I was living in while I was in high school. He survived both of my parents.
My father was an old school European that spoke five languages. My mother’s affair pretty much destroyed him. My mother, before she died, was a slightly crazy, black woman. They never told me this, but I suspect she committed suicide.
