A child is born with an incredible gift. Whether it be intellect, athletics, music, arts or something other. One would think that the good parents and good family members would naturally want to feed the spark of the child's gift. So, that it grows to it's final fruition. This seems natural to want to do. To enable a gift to grow within any child and to foster a love for that gift or maybe even gifts. Wouldn't that be a wonderful thing to do for any child.
But, That is not what I witnessed the other day. I witnessed a very talented musician who was invited to play at Ruth Eckerd Hall. I got to sit next to her family. They were so filled with dismissal and almost being forced to be there as if they had some more important things to do other than be more than just present at their young family member's recital. They did not clap once. They did not smile or even pretend to want to be there. I felt sad for this young woman who has such a musical talent to have to endure the negative emotions of family members.
Always find the positive lessons contained within. Then take continuous positive actions for the sole benefit of any young child. Even if they be not of your blood line. To think about it more accurately. Everyone is of your human blood line all the way back to Noah and Adam. So, we are all one family and of one human race. This is truth.
I am reminded of foster care and how that ruined my gift and love of baseball. In the form of emotional abuse by the foster father who did not want to take me to any practices or games. Riding in his VW Beetle was brutal. I failed in practice and in the games. So much so that I just quit. How can any child who was also being nearly starved by these people focus and become excited about something when every car ride was full on yelling, accusations and threats. How can any child do well with this? I do not think very many.
How far could I have gone? Maybe play for a high school team as a base hitter and third baseman, catcher. I wasn't big enough for catcher. Maybe college? maybe AAA? Who knows. If I had a fair opportunity.
The same thing for mathematics. I loved math and I could actually see it, until I was forced to realize I had a 70 IQ. Then I wasn't allowed to do math any more. That's how it seemed to me. I just could not verbally articulate. Not that I even tried. Why would anyone try to when you have an IQ of 70.
Running, I think saved me. The distance running forced me to think about a lot of things which had happened and other problems which were on going. My times began to drop regularly. I incorporated swimming, weight lifting and biking. Then I asked my adopted dad to a Gasparilla race that I was running in. It was a struggle. I wanted my dad to see how well I was progressing. To become proud of me. But, at the end of the race all I saw in him was anger. Anger for making him wait around. Anger for then is when I began to realize. That it was the adoptive mother who wanted to adopt a child. For him the relationship is something he never wanted. Why would a super intelligent man of importance want anything to do with a kid with an IQ of 70.
So of course I asked again. This time for the one and only race across the new Sunshine SkyWay Bridge over Tampa Bay. Dad said he would go and then he just disappeared. So, I was late. The last person already started and I could see packs forming up. Without any warm up or stretching. I ran without any thought anything more than just running. It was all surreal. Passing everyone. Not think about pacing or breathing or even stride. It was one of the fastest races I have ever run. I caught up to what I observed to be the 2nd pack. I wasn't tired or physically stressed. I received my medallion and just sat and watched for what seemed like an eternity as people just kept coming across the line. All seemed tired, satisfied of their completion. I sat alone and numb. I was always alone. Yet, I was always the one who kept up the relation with my dad by any means necessary. Because, I knew if I did not. There would be not.
I guess I was never really strong enough to completely sever ties with dad. I just wanted to hold on. Hold on I did. Until William was a young child and he found some things under dad's couch. We stopped having regular visits with dad. To the point of only several times a year. Just to make sure he was still alive. In the end of his life. I was the person whom he called to take care of his body. When those whom he loved only wanted to take advantage of him. I honored the father whom I loved even though his love for me was not reciprocated. I am satisfied with that.
Yes, I hope you got tired of IQ of 70 thing. Because, I was and I am.
I know, I went on a personal tangent. Sorry.
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Musings of an American Truck Driver