50 Winters on Planet Earth

Reflections on family and alienation at the half-century mark

I was born 50 winters ago to two people who hated each other and had no business having children.

As far as I know, they each had one child with someone else before they had me, and I hear they might have tried to adopt a kid. They never talked about it, so I don’t know. They would have three children after me, and we all suffered. We barely talk to each other now. The second youngest, Evan, killed himself in 1999, almost exactly 15 years ago now. The rest of us found a way to survive.

My parents divorced when I was about 7. One night I woke up to Jeni tossing Doug’s stuff out the back door, and that was basically it. He did what he wanted, and we tried to carry on. I was told I was smart and talented, but it didn’t help me much. Without loving parents and a stable home life, I struggled constantly. I was displaced, dispossessed, neglected, betrayed, and abused my entire childhood.

We all moved around a lot with Jeni until we got fed up and went to live with Doug and his new wife. It was awful, and it stayed awful for a long time. It was clear that they hated me and looked forward to the day I would move out. I left home when I was seventeen, and I joined the army a few years later.