was very pregnant with my brother. She told herself she couldn't go to prison with kids.

So, no, my first words weren't as funny as that little German boy's. But that woman made a grave mistake. She got me talking, and now I won't shut up. Serves her right.

I spoke my first sentence, "Because she hurts me."

Friends and neighbors, those of you who know my mother know what just happened to her face when I said that.

We were on the doostep of this woman when this happened. The only reason my mother didn't kill her when she came to the door was she

crying when my mom would drop me off. She couldn't understand why I wouldn't want to go to a house with a smiling caretaker and playing, happy kids.

I finally talked. She asked me, in frustration, expecting no response, why I was crying, and why I didn't want to go to the daycare place.

That became a pattern. I would try to get up, and would get set back down and pinched. I tried to amuse myself by tracing my finger over the wrought iron curio stand, because I knew better than to touch the curios. That got me pinched. I would forget and do it again. More pinching.

I started

a couple times? I never saw the rest of the house or the yard.

They had donuts one day. Everybody was muching them and they looked delicious. I was not allowed to have one. I couldn't really ask for one. The words weren't there. I did try to go get one, and was set down hard. And pinched.

side of the big box those tv's had. I remember it was a huge tv. I was pretty sad I never got to watch what the other kids watched. The dad would sit and watch, too. I wasn't allowed to leave the mat.

I'm pretty sure I was in diapers- or training pants still. I remember going to a potty

to her chair. It had a little rug, and was a nook between the chair on the one side, and a little wrought-iron curio stand against the wall on the other side.

They had a television, but it was against the wall the curio stand was one, meaning I couldn't see the screen. I could only see the

I didn't really like the place. I never got to play with the toy. As soon as my mom was gone, the woman would take the toy, and I wouldn't see it again until I was being picked up by my mom.

Plus, the woman decided that I couldn't play with the other kids. I had to sit. She had a corner next

her kids and some others at her house. Unlicensed daycare? Why not? It was, first and foremost, affordable.

My mom would drop me off there, and I was allowed to have one toy to take with me to reduce the anxiety of being in a stranger's home. One, because it was easier to keep track of things.

intention of raising kids by himself, ever. My mom was pissed. This was the late 70's, so no one stopped him with a 1-year old on a motorcycle.

For a while before their official divorce, he was gone a lot. I needed care while my mom was in classes, so she took me to a lady who took care of

I was in that second group. I can remember stuff from before I could talk. I remember riding in front of my father on his motorcycle through Arlington, no helmet, no thoughts. Apparenty, my parents had been fighting, and he "took" me. Of course, we came right back because he actually had no

My scream was legendary. No one heard me. My sprint was Olympic-caliber after I yeeted that can and its eldritch denizen.

Mom let me know slugs like beer. I had just learned what a slug was, firsthand.

Now I think slugs are pretty cool molluscs. But at 3 years old? Beer cans held horrors.

Slowly, inexorably, my thumb was being covered by a slimy, alien presence. It was issuing out of the can's opening, huge and fat and darkly pulsing its way onto my hand.

Why did I stand there and let it ooze onto me? Shock, mostly. I was frozen for about a second, which let it "get" me.

I found some "empty" beer cans behind the bushes one morning. Picking them up, I realized there was still beer in them. It smelled funny. I didn't really want to drink it, but I considered it. Maybe it would be ok?

While I was considering, I felt something wet and cold carress my thumb.

Beer came in cans, and cans were eaily discarded behind bushes and in out of the way places. Anyone who had picked up after a party knows that beer cans are almost never fully empty. Partiers forgo that last swig, and toss it in favor of another, with less foam.

I loved exploring behind bushes.

It's a green-necked cushaw, for what it's worth.

Whenever I was unsure where I was, or where mom or anyone was: hug a tree.

You couldn't go wrong if you stayed put and hugged that tree, so to speak. Wandering could get you more lost, or make you miss who was looking for you.

So that's a lesson I still teach. If you're lost: Hug a tree.