And Now Miguel (part one)

I am an old man by many standards. Not a problem. More happy now than I ever was.

I’ve been through two homeless shelters. Wouldn’t trade that experience for anything in the world. A dear girl, but 22 years of age found it in her heart to rescue me out of the last one. My Granddaughter, and what a grand daughter she is. Dominique C. Oquendo.

I did most of the raising for that little critter. We were so close and she saw fit not to forget her gpa. I have my own apartment, furnished, housewares, and all necessities. She and He (God) put my feet on solid ground. On my own, thanks to a young person. She’s a dynamo.

Back to me.

I came to America when but six years of age (1957). Bronx NYC. What a life. Wonderful and exciting. Some scary moments. Many happy ones. Oh yes, and heartbreaks. Loving heartbreaks. The heartbreaks of a young man. lovely memories and lovely people.

My father who had sexually abused some of us (unbeknownst to me at the time) would beat me repeatedly, and brutally. I admit that what my beloved brother Manny went through was worst. Part of my beatings were manufactured due to a sister’s complaints against me. I did not know at the time that I was getting my ass whooped to keep a sad secret quiet. My dad owed her. Clandestine sex abuse.

Well this did quite a bit towards investment that I would grow up to be a violent young man. Anyone in my close vicinity would laugh, I was in their face thinking the laughter was directed at me. Ridiculous. Tough guy, tortured soul.

I drew a lot. Good artist. I spoke very little, but I drew. Little by little I learned. As events would have it, my pa would shuffle us off from one poor neighborhood to another, chasing that cheaper rent.

Wilkens street Bronx. Boosters, drug addicts looking to steal that they could buy their next high, watching the move in truck. Coming very close, just served to make me bold and angry, for they showed no class, very obvious. I stuck close to them and stared them down. Looking for a confrontation. They didn’t want one, they were looking for ease.

To Be Continued…

https://andnowmiguel.wordpress.com/
I can also be contacted at;
kingrat1397@gmail.com
and, turbans713@yahoo.com
or face book as Miguel Angel Oquendo

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9 comments

  1. I Read all parts to this series. I am an artist. so when i read detailed stories like yours, i have visions. Reading your stories was like a movie playing in my mind. Have you thought of writing a book?

    Liked by 2 people

    • Yes, I have, for many years now, but have been struggling with a innate configuration best described in another post which I will drop off by you on facebook. It will clarify why I have never been able to get that project off the ground. Also I will, when I come up with the time tell you of some other venues I have attempted.
      And thanks for thinking so well of my presentations.

      Like

  2. This is my first read on your blog. You definitely have the gift of a writer and a communicator. Ya’ know child abuse is an ugly, ugly thing. My Dad hit me a few times and he also verbally abused us all and said the most disgusting words I have ever heard. He beat my mother and created such an unstable home life. It did its job on me, but Jesus has healed me in so many ways. And guess what? Toward the end of his life he gave his life to Christ and God healed the anger I had toward Him. He’s a good, good Father. I’m excited to read more.

    Liked by 2 people

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