My Story, The Gandolph Story

Last time I spoke that I was born to somewhat ungoodly parents. This time I'll talk about my goodly parents, the Gandolphs. It happened around the 5th of May 2004 when I arrived with my younger brother on my now parents doorstep. They had done foster care for many years and so were very much aware of how to take care of kids.

As for me, because of the abuse I endured, I didn't trust adults. I was afraid of anyone who was bigger than me. I was afraid of being in this strange home with parents that were like the grandparents I never knew. They were sweet. They were kind and they were frustrated that I couldn't keep my mouth shut. (I still have trouble with that though not as bad). Whenever I ate food I couldn't keep it down. My parents say otherwise but looking back I was quite the troublemaker.

Yet... they never struck me. I could only think of one occasion where I got roughed up a bit.  But on that one occasion, I made a major stupid mistake and so I think of it as justified.  I look at the many life lessons, the multiple discussions that were had, and the suffering I gave them as a teenager and wondered: How in the world did they deal with my crap? My own question was answered by the loving chastisements of my father, "James, could use your head more than just a hatrack?"

As a man, I look back on that advice and I am grateful for what my dad said. I have strived from that time forth not to use my head as a hatrack. Below is me with my family. This photo is a couple of years old. I'm the one sporting the "Bob Ross" look. I love my family very much. and wouldn't have it any other way.