EPILOGUE

Recently (August 2011) I read Lindsey Rosa’s memoir, Not My Idea of Heaven.  It was touted as being, “The inspiring story of a young woman who broke free from a strict religious sect to find her own voice.”  It wasn’t.  She never got better, she never found happiness, and she never experienced joy.  Far from “inspiring” the book was depressing, two-hundred and sixty-eight pages of doom and gloom.

Hopefully Twenty-five Address has treated its readers better.  If anything, I have understated the most difficult experiences of my life—namely the abuse and violence at the hands of my father and brother, as well as Bobby, Hal, and Billy.  What I have shared is only glimpses of some events, a small portion of what were the day-to-day realities.

Pat Conroy has been one of my favourite authors, and when Vince and I first bought a VCR in the mid-1980s, we rented the 1979 movie based on Conroy’s The Great Santini.  At its core, the story is about a demanding father and his teenage son.  Although I do not remember the details, about half way through there was a confrontation scene between the two, and it totally devastated me. 

This wasn’t your typical crying at the movies, shedding a few tears; it sent me to my room in such desolation and despair that it took a few hours to recover.  I never saw the rest of the movie, and although I have the book, I may never read it.  That emotional meltdown demonstrated how I deal (or don’t deal) with those painful episodes of my life … they are like boils festering just below the surface, exploding when poked.

In 1997 Soo Kin and I went to the Lumiere with a (now former) friend, Gust, to see the movie “Star Maps” which he had recommended.  It was the story of Carlos, who left Mexico at eighteen to work with his father (Pepe), who ran a male/female prostitution ring, under the guise of selling maps to stars’ home in Hollywood.

Carlos wanted to be an actor, and one of his clients, a rich soap opera producer, offered him a bit part in her show. Pepe tells Carlos that she is just using him, and demands that he not see the women any longer. Then Pepe beds the producer, and gets the part that was meant for Carlos.

The subsequent confrontation between the two got extremely brutal … that’s when I started to shake, the tears running down my face.  Just as I was about to bolt from the theatre, Soo Kin firmly grasped my knee and said, “It’s all right.”  He kept his hand there until the end.

Afterwards, back out on the street, Gust was apologizing for having made the recommendation.  Naturally he couldn’t have known.  With the tears still running down my face, I said, “No, that’s okay.  This just proves that despite it all, I have become the man that I am today, a man that I am very proud to be.”

And that says it all.

Now that you have read the story of my first fifty years, stay tuned for My Life as a Cow (Kau) and my next fifty years.