This book tells my life story. The good the bad the hard truth. It tells who I was; who I am and what I've overcome. It shows my financial hardships and my many relationships. This book also tells my survival of my street life and my encounters with the law.

My Life, My Story, My Pain

By Rip Kesee

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Rip Kesee
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-3658-8

Chapter One

MY LIFE, MY STORY, MY PAIN

I look at life as a story to be told - a testimony. Life is a book that you write day by day as you live it. It is to be shared with others, but you have to understand each chapter, and you have to realize when an old chapter must end and when a new chapter must begin.

My life has always been a fight, full of complete and incomplete chapters. I'm trying my best to complete a lot of my unfinished chapters because of the problems I've caused other people. I've come a long way in life, yet I'm still traveling and trying to understand my purpose.

My story begins in the early 1970s. I was the youngest of four siblings. My brothers are Steve and Randy, and my sister is Sally. I had another sister who passed away before I was born. I never knew the circumstances of her death or what happened, and I never asked any questions.

I was born in El Dorado, Ark., a small town near Louisiana that's surrounded by woodlands and rooted in oil. We were very poor, and sometimes we had to rely on welfare and food stamps when my mother was out of work.

My father was around, but my mother didn't get any help from him. She did the best she could by herself. Times were so hard that my brother and I had to share clothes. In the real world, sharing clothes was not a cool thing, but a lot of kids had to do it.

The kids who didn't have to share talked about those who did. In our house, we shared clothes, shoes, underwear, suits and whatever else we had. Sometimes, when we would take pictures at school, the other kids would point and laugh. "Your brother had that suit on yesterday," they'd say.

It hurt, but I had to make myself understand that my mother was doing her best. I can remember when the Michael Jordan sneakers came out. They were red, black and white, and I wanted some so bad, but I knew we couldn't afford them.

I asked my mother to buy me some anyway. After she looked at that price, she told me that she would get them if she could find a discount. That didn't take that long, because about two weeks later, the Dollar Store came out with their own version of the shoes.

You could tell they weren't real, but we didn't care. We wore them with pride. Everybody at school knew they weren't real, too, but we ignored them. We had some; that's all that mattered. The one pair of shoes that I hated most was the maypops. Now those were the "Dollar Store special."

The shoes were blue and white and uglllllly! But sometimes that was all we had.

Steve was the oldest, and he didn't fall into the same "poor" category like the rest of us. He was adopted by my aunt and uncle. They spoiled him a lot; he always got to do whatever he wanted. Every week he got a haircut and new clothes, while the rest of us would be lucky to get a pack of cookies when my uncle brought him over on the weekends to visit us.

Uncle LeRoy, who adopted my oldest brother, wasn't really our uncle. He married my Aunt Penny. Uncle LeRoy had a few rent houses, and he loaned money to people all the time. A lot of times he had to help my mother out when she didn't have all her "bill money."

I used to thank God for him and thought he was our angel. He kept us out of the dark many times. He had a Volkswagen that he loved to drive. Uncle LeRoy and Aunt Penny kept money in Steve's pocket, so of course he thought he was better than us. I remember one time he got in trouble at school for having too much money in his pocket. A lot of times Aunt Penny would steal money from Uncle LeRoy when he was drunk and give it to Steve.

And Steve wasn't always the "good" son, because he got drunk too. On one occasion, he got a D.U.I while riding a bicycle. My uncle was very upset about that, but he still got Steve a car so he didn't have to ride a bicycle anymore. But that's enough about them.

I remember a special Christmas when my brother Randy got a bike and I got a Big Wheel. That was the best Christmas of our lives, because we never got anything new on Christmas. All our stuff usually came from the Salvation Army, thrift stores or garage sales.

I was happy until he decided to give me a push and busted the back of my Big Wheel. I cried all day long. I think Randy cried all day, too, because his butt was hurt. I remember asking my mother for money so I could go buy a kite or something to play with. But a lot of times she was broke and would tell me that if I found some money around the house I could have it.

One day, I searched for money in some old purses she had lying around the house. I checked them all of them, but they were empty. My favorite Aunt Sadie stayed with us at the time. That was my mother's sister, and she also had a few bags and purses. I asked her if I could look for some spare change, but I didn't exactly say where.

She said OK, so I looked around and eventually hit the jackpot. Boy, it felt like I was in heaven; I found so much money! I felt like I was rich ... like I was some kind of superstar. I went to the store and bought a lot of junk - kites, drinks and candy. You name it.

My brother Randy asked me where I got the money. I told him I found it. He didn't believe me and said he was going to tell mama. By the time I got home, everybody was waiting for me. My mother asked if I had any money.

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

"Well, where did it come from?" she asked.

"U mm. I found it."

She just had to keep asking questions. When she asked where I had found it, I pointed and said, "in there."

"Where in there," she asked.

"In Aunt Sadie's room," I said. "It was in some old purses that she didn't want, so I got the money. She can throw them away now."

And, of course, Aunt Sadie had to open her mouth.

"Boy, I did not tell you to go in there and pick through my purses," she said. "All that money you got was my bill money, and you need to go get it all back from everybody you gave it to."

Randy was just mad because I didn't give him any money. So there we went, all over the neighborhood, getting the money back. We were short some, and I got my butt tore up that day. I never did that again. Shortly after, my nephew and I were playing cowboys and Indians in the house. He had water gun, and I had a B.B. gun. It was empty at first, but I found a B.B. stuck to the gun with some duct tape. I loaded it and just sat there waiting for him to stick his head out. When he did, I shot and hit him in the eye.

It was real bloody; I was so scared because he was hollering like crazy. My mama ran to him, scooped him up and rushed to get help. They took him to the hospital, and the doctor said the B.B. had lodged under his eyelid. When they got home, I felt bad, but it was funny because he had a patch on his eye.

It wasn't funny when my mother got through with me, though.

Time passes on....

I remember one time we were at home by ourselves and there were big rats everywhere - they were running all over the house. We were on the couches and chairs and didn't get down until our parents made it back home. I guess the rats were hungry or something, I don't know.

I remember one time a rat ate the top of my finger off, and I had to get a shot. I have been bitten by a couple of times by rats, so I'm afraid of them. After the rat incident, I just wanted to get out the house for a while, even though I never was athletic. I had a friend up the street named Tony, and I went to his house...