This is the way I remember it.
God saw fit to place me in Flint, Michigan on January 15th, 1972 at 7:49 pm. I’ve always been a bit of a night person.
My mom, Sharon, was a courageous sixteen year old who decided to live up to her responsibilities. We started out living with my grandparents, John and Arleah Wilkins, my two uncles, Bill and Gary and my aunt, Donna. I’m sure it was crowded, but my memories are of it being a blast. When I wasn’t busy pleading with my teenage housemates to flip me in the air, I was occupied looking out the screen door at the activity on our dead end dirt road or watching Popeye on our twenty five inch console tv.
They tell me I was spoiled. Being the first grandchild and surrounded by so many fun and loving people, I’m sure there was a temptation to spoil me. Who could resist someone as cute as me anyways? However, I’m certain I was not. I was simply good at selling people on why I should have my way.
Our house was a beehive with neighborhood kids popping in and out at all times. I recall one of them named Ira. When I tried to say it, it came out as “Wa” and Ira was known as Uncle Wa. The street was one of those places where everyone knew each other. Even my grandmother’s friends would come by or we would go and visit them. I looked forward to these visits since these sweet old ladies fed me.
My mom was determined to care for our newly formed family and did what it took to make that happen. She found a job at Kmart and we moved out onto our own.
I only have a handful of memories about this time. One involves a dream I had where I was looking for a belt at Kmart and the one I fancied had Dracula on the buckle. Once I removed the belt from the rack, it released Dracula from his imprisonment in the buckle and he stood as a giant in front of me. Then I woke up.
About this time, I also recall having two imaginary friends. Actually, I had one imaginary friend and my imaginary friend had a friend. Mine was named Wolf. He was a tall wolf with black fur, a red hat and a red tie. His friend was a short grey wolf. They both walked on two legs. Wolf and I would talk to one another, but only Wolf could talk to his friend the shorter wolf.
My mom was very proactive concerning my development and education. She would buy me workbooks that taught shapes, colors, letters and numbers. I recall working through these books and asking her to check my work. I developed a hunger to learn and I have her to thank for it.
When living in an apartment on North Saginaw Street, a new person entered our lives, Nic. I used to ask mom, “Is Nic coming over today?” Her response set my mood for the rest of the day. She tells me I didn’t like him at first because he made me obey. There’s an insinuation there that I’m not fond of. I prefer to think of myself as an obedient child who was scared of this man nicknamed Bear. I’m not sure if it was because of his quiet but intimidating demeanor or the fact that he was as hairy as a bear. With long thick black hair down past his shoulders and a beard as voluminous, I like to think it the latter.
Nic started coming around more often and the next thing I know, he is married to my mom. I was four years old when Nic became dad. We spent some time back at my grandparent’s in order for my parents to save up money for a house.
I spent my time going to the corner store for a Hire’s root beer or an ice cream cone. Our neighbor across the street had a Golden Retriever named Rusty. Maybe he wasn’t a Golden Retriever since he wasn’t golden. Once, I shoveled the snow off their driveway and then knocked on the door asking for the money. They paid me, but informed me I should ask permission before doing the job next time.
I started kindergarten at Central Elementary in Mt. Morris. I’m not sure where the town got its name. There isn’t a mountain anywhere to be seen. The first morning of school, the bus picked me up at the church next to our home. The feeling of being intimidated by the rowdy older kids is deeply entrenched in my memory. I begged my mom to take me to school in the mornings, but strangely enough was ok with riding the bus home. Maybe it had to do with sensory overload early in the morning. Maybe it was that I was told to find the bus after school by looking for the Bugs Bunny bus. Each bus was labeled with a different cartoon character and Bugs was mine. I enjoyed the ride home so much that I asked our driver to make me the very last stop. Each day, Mr. Aiken would let me ride the bus until everyone was dropped off and then swing me back home.
Two events occurred at this point. One, somewhere in the two years between my mom marrying my dad and my kindergarten year, my grandpa died. His white socked feet and blue or green Dickey work pants are my only memories of him. I spent most of my time on the floor playing as a kid. This was my vantage point. He had a heart attack and didn’t recover. I believe he was fifty seven at the time.
The other occurrence was a move to Flint. The summer after my kindergarten year, my parents bought a house through a friend on the east side of the city. It would be in this house that the rest of my formative years would take place.
Joel Stiff's Adventure 