Early Years

Our early formulative years have much to do with who we become and I’m no exception.  A good foundation is a key to being successful in darn near anything, especially coping with adversity. This is just my story and what worked for me may or may not work well for you. I hope people will come away with some good food for thought. I don’t think we can overstate the importance to what happens to us in our most formulative years. Join me and we’ll have a few laughs along the way.

I spent my earliest years mostly in hospitals. I went through a number of operations on my feet and hips which I have no memory of. But I do remember looking out through the bars of the little bed they had me in. The room was dimly lit and I remember my grandmother there in the chair next to me. I remember one day crawling out into the bright hall way and seeing the nurses’ station and being picked up and taken back to my room. It was said by my doctors not long after I was born, that I would never be able to walk.  I only remember tiny fragments from this time. I did learn to walk.

My great uncle Frank was a World War II veteran who served as a medic in the South Pacific and an avid body builder. He used to take my brother Chase and I to the YMCA for exercise and a part of that was swimming. Uncle Frank stood me up in the shallow end of the pool and before anyone knew it, I was walking! He invited my Mom and Grandmother to come see for themselves! After some more trips to the pool, he stood me up next to the pool and I walked back to the locker room unassisted and I’ve been walking on my own ever since. Chase thinks he got the idea from President Roosevelt walking in the pool many decades before. I may have started walking anyway  but at the least, this got me mobile pretty early in life.  

I’m proud to say I grew up in North Carolina. My brother Chase and I were coming along not so long after the Civil Rights Movement brought about a bunch of change in the USA. Keep in mind we were in the south. My mom, Helen was a schoolteacher.  Early in life, my biological dad was replaced by my real dad, David LaVack. He is a big guy from California who at the time had a long black beard. He looked like a hippie biker, not the federal employee he was.  When he met mom, we lived in a small town home a very short walk away from my grandmother’s town home. Having sidewalks leading everywhere, I could get around quite well. I did not yet wander off like brother Chase but my wonderings would come later. Life was easy but I would soon be in for a few challenges. David LaVack hence fourth known as Bear / Dad had two children from an earlier marriage, Davie and Buffy. The first time we met it seemed awkward and weird, who were these kids? We would go pick them up every other weekend or so and do day trips to the mountains or simply hang out at home.  The awkwardness passed quickly and we all got along very well for the most part. I was only seven and life was changing fast.

Not long after they were married mom and dad bought an old house in the country down a gravel road. It was not just any old house. We children came to think of it as being haunted. It was built around 1911 surrounded by large trees and small field in the back. The front facing the driveway was red brick and the back added on a few decades later was dark red painted wood.  This place had a character all its own.  The living room and the den in front were nice and level as were some of the rooms above on the second floor. The kitchen, dining area, a small bathroom and laundry room sloped downward about 5 or 10 degrees. Walk into the kitchen and yes, you were going down hill. The large bedroom Chase and I shared upstairs was also going slightly down hill. We had a ton of room and a nice view of fields and trees. Outside there was a small shed and a large old storage building and a one-car garage.  I had visions of being stuck inside all day while my siblings ran joyfully through the fields and woods. What was I going to do with myself? I told Dad I could not walk in grass. He asked me to give it a try. I did and much to my delight, it was no problem. I could not run but in no time I could go damn near anywhere I wanted, including the woods. Dave and Buffy continued to came every other weekend and we played games outside like cowboys and Indians. We had a cool run down two-room shed we called our fort. Needless to say, we spent most of our time out doors.

Living there was awesome. It was a great place to inspire one’s imagination. In those days, we were left home most afternoons from school without mom and dad. We could hang out at the fort, do a little fishing in the nearby pond in the summer and explore seemingly endless thick woods and rolling fields. On long exploration trips Chase would haul me along in a little red wagon and later we would ride double on his bike. There was a small store about a mile away we would ride to for drinks. Before the age of internet access, cool video games and micromanaging parents, we had to entertain ourselves. Exploring became our favorite activity. At that place and time, we could wander off for several hours at a time and no one had to worry if we had been kidnapped by psychos or terrorists. We had a lot of freedom. Chase would dress me up in football pads and a helmet and we would play our own version of football in the field behind the house or in our huge bedroom. If I could pass the ball without him slapping it down, where it landed was my yards gained. I could also run into him and try to drive him back. If I caught him just right this worked.  It was a good excuse as any to knock the crap out of each other without getting into trouble. Our toys called for lots of role-playing, not pre-scripted games.

 We must have had well over two hundred little plastic soldiers from World War II guys, knights from the middle ages as well as civil war yanks and rebs. Cowboys and Indians go without saying. We made and destroyed forts and towns from Lincoln Logs, Legos and any other material we could find around the house. Characters of our own creation came to life and killed off each other weekend and week out. I planned out entire cities with matchbox cars and toy airplanes. I learned how to dream big.    

 I’m not a parenting expert but just like everyone reading this I have parents and they did a lot of things right by me. They did one simple thing that helped me more than anything else; treated me just like my siblings; Chase Dave and Buffy. I was never felt sorry for or denied an opportunity to try something I wanted to no matter how odd or crazy! From a very young age I’ve always been encouraged to do and try all I wanted to and then some. There was a time I wanted to be a long haul truck driver (there is a part of me that still does). Sure, Dad said, you can do it. Modify the truck.  Air Traffic Controller, yes and let’s find someone you can talk to. Fly a plane, give it a try, more on that later. When I was older I thought about being a bar owner, sure but think it over carefully. Do you really want to deal with drunks, ALE and cleaning spilled beer every night? If you are a parent or a sibling of someone with a disability this is the most important thing you can do. Let them dream big and do all they can for themselves but be available when the really need you. This also applies to schools, becoming more independent and the inevitable slips and failures. I owe a huge amount of my success to my family and how they tossed me into the world from a very young age. 

When I was very young, I started off at a school for “special” children. It was basically a school for children with mental and physical disabilities. Although the staff were good and caring people, Dad quickly realized this was not going to be such a good idea for me because he felt I was simply not learning anything. He felt for me to have the best chance in this life, I must face the challenges of the rest of the world. This is not to say anything bad about schools for the disabled; this is in my case. Dad talked with Mom and Grandma and they agreed to put me into a regular public school. I think this was the most important thing they ever did for me during my childhood for a lot of reasons. Most importantly, it would force me to adapt to being different in a positive way. I would have to be social and learn how to ask for help when I needed it. We lived in the countryside at the time so off to the nearest public school I went.