Words From Another 'Throw-Away Child'... My Brother

Words From Another 'Throw-Away Child'... My Brother

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Being a throw away child, I
remember a long period of time when I walked alone, I had no one I could trust
or count on, what mattered to me meant nothing to anyone, I was the only one
that saw the things that I saw. I saw my aunt drive a man to suicide, and bitch
because he did it, I saw my cousin dance naked before his sister and her younger
cousin, I saw my uncle, and his children destroy thier lives and everyones lives
around them with alcohol, I saw the deprivation of Satan's children upon the rest
of our family, and the world around them.
Being a throw away child, I
remember the time when some of us tried our best to walk with what little
dignity that life would allow us, it was crushed by the useless values of the
rest of our family, who seemed to have no values at all.  Being a throw away child, I
remember being used and abused by those that thought they were Gods gift to the
world, and people like me, were nothing but the dirt people spit on.  Being a throw away child, I
remember the time when there was a lock on the TV. I was not allowed to watch it
unless someone else decided that I was "worthy" of such a "privilege". I
remember finding a spare key for that TV lock, I was on top of the world, I got
to watch TV, until my Dad came home and put his hand on top of the TV. He knew I
had been watching it. He wore a belt out on my backside, broke it in several
pieces, about 4 pieces as I can remember, he went out to the railroad bank behind the
apartment and cut a bunch of branches and came back to inflict more punishment,
his mom, my grandma... came home from work and decided to get in on the fun, they
took turns beating me while the other rested, the next morning, my body looked
like a parking lot, I could hardly move, but I was forced to go school anyway
and endure the embarassment of how I looked, fortunately I got to skip dressing
out for gym class.
Being a throw away child, I remember how one wrong word or one wrong move
would land me in my bed for 3 days and 3 nights with nothing to eat for those 3
days, only bathroom privileges, and only the water I would sneak if I went to the
bathroom.
Being a throw away child, I remember being slapped, and backhanded, knocked
off my feet in public just so someone could show off to his friends how big and
powerfull and controling he was to his friends.
Being a throw away child, I was able to bear witness to how much truth that
there is in the statement,"There is nothing more cruel than mans' inhumanity to
man"...

NOTE:
These words are written by my younger brother, Wm. Ernest.  He wrote them last night to send to me to put here on my blog.  He has stories of things that happened to him as a little innocent child... bad things.

Not only did I get thrown into hell... my little brother was thrown into a different hell.  Mine was in North Carolina living in the house that 'guarded the portal to hell'... his was in Wisconsin.  I, like you, will learn about 'his hell'.

I will begin to add his stories, along with any stories from other family members along with my stories, my 'colors of life'.  Here, you can see what we all survived.

Children and pets, loved ones are meant to have, to love, to be treasured.  No one should have them unless they are prepared to care, sacrifice, protect those children, pets, loved ones.

Through my words you hear, see how people abused us as very small children ... you'll feel the pain in my little brother's words as you read them.  I felt them last night when I read them... we are the product of when parents don't have their priorities in order, don't protect their children.... when they are just too young.

When parents are too young, addicted to alcohol, drugs, can't take responsibility... their children become scapegoats for others to kick around... if they don't love them, no one else loves them.

People see the opportunity and... take it... to molest little children.  I know very well, I was a very little girl... back then.  I knew how men 'who were somebody in the community, well-thought of, respected, had their own little girls'... loved to molest, put their hands on a little innocent girl.

There were 'sneaky hands' coming from 'the blue' so unexpectedly that I was very nervous as a child... I never knew what to expect from people's 'hands'.... male hands.

As time goes by... these stories/my colors will be told.  I don't tell them to hurt anyone at this late date and time.  I won't name people by names... most are dead and gone now, I will name relationships.... no one will know them anyway.

Maybe you who are parents will learn something about protecting your children in ways you weren't aware of.   Sometimes... 'people aren't what they seem'.  Sometimes 'those kind, sweet expressions on loved ones' faces hide things'.....

No one on both sides of my family ever 'knew the other side of my family'... no one ever knew I ever had three brothers, one sister.  I never told them, either.  How about that?

No one knew I was my mother's daughter when I came to live with her as a teenager.  No one in my 'family' ever really knew 'me'... though when I became an adult I was treated with respect.  People 'forgot' how they treated me as a little girl... it was like I was 'two people'... not the same person.

I will tell my brother's story as I go... when he writes his words of being a 'throw-away child'... I will put them here on my blog.

I will encourage him to begin writing his own story someday... if he doesn't... he has a big sister who will do it for him.  I love my brother... I love both of my brothers, one sister ... who are still living.  Wm. Ernest, David, Teresa.  I loved with my heart also, my brother Rick-Rick who died several years ago.

Even I don't know all of the abuse my brother suffered, through the years I 'heard rumors'... I never got the opportunity to be close to him as we both lived, traveled in other parts of the USA.  I always wanted to talk to him... now, as he writes, like you I will 'know him'.

When you read his words, think of a little precious, brown-haired boy standing there looking up at you.  He wears little denim pants, plaid shirt... he has his little hands in those pockets.  Looking at him melts your heart... that was my little brother that I knew all these years... I missed knowing him as an adult.  It's so sad, it hurts me deeply.

The positive about all of this is... that I will finally get to know him.  I know I will be sad alot reading what has been 'inside him' all of these years... but, I will get to ... know him.

Sometimes our tears take on the form of words, sometimes it is good to cry... so, sometimes it's good to ... write.  I will write for the rest of my life... it has made a good difference in my life.  I hope that happens for you, Wm. Ernest.  Your big sister loves you.

The colors of my life will take forever to write... there are many of them.  This is some 'of the others'....  colors of a little thrown-away boy...  'words from another throw-away child'.