I was three or
four when my mom left my biological father. My memories of those early years
were surprisingly vivid. I remember my father arguing with my mom and hitting
her on a regular basis. I remember throwing marbles and green army men at his
back in a feeble attempt to intervene. I remember when he caught me urinating
in the neighbor’s garden and slapped me full-force across the face, nearly
knocking me off my little feet and leaving my left ear ringing like a gun had exploded
near my head.
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| Me at about 2 |
Although we were
still very poor, things improved when my mom left him. She got a job as a
secretary at the elementary school I attended and we lived in a trailer on my
grandparents’ property. Food was scarce, new clothes even scarcer, and luxuries
such as toys, treats and sodas nonexistent.
My mom joined
this church that attempted to control every aspect of our lives. We could only read Christian books and listen to Christian music, couldn't associate with people of other religions, couldn't watch television, etc.
When I was in second grade, the preacher started his own school and we had
to enroll. My mom left her job and began working as a monitor for the church’s
school, which believed in corporal punishment.
When any of the boys in the school would do something wrong,
the principal would make us bend over and grab our ankles while he hit us with
a large wooden paddle. I was often forced to let go of my ankles and grab the floor to
keep from falling over—that’s how hard he hit us.
Outside of school, my mom had
me and my brother stay with the principal several times while she attended religious retreats.
On one occasion, he made me wash his van, and then beat me because I left
streaks. Well, the first three strikes were for leaving the streaks—the next
nine strikes were because I refused to cry. And there was the time he and
another member of the church tied me up and dunked my head in his toilet repeatedly,
because I didn’t use the “correct” language when asking for rolls at dinner and then I refused to apologize.
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| Private School Banquet (Literature Award) |
The whippings at the
hand of this principal lasted about two years. I had just finished the fourth grade when
the preacher shut down the school and told the parents they had to teach their
children at home. My mom got a job as the church’s secretary—the pay was meager—and
this allowed her to work from home while “teaching” us.
When I was
about twelve, I convinced my mom to let me go to work on a full-time basis, promising
to do schoolwork at night. I worked as a carpenter’s helper for a man from her
church, and it allowed me to help her pay bills and put food on the table. I
didn’t do much schoolwork after that, but I did start reading…a lot. I
eventually discovered an author who would change the course of my life forever.
Thirty-one years
later, I found myself happily divorced, the father of two amazing children (Brandon and Grace), and
in a new relationship with Amanda, a single mom and a psychologist. As Amanda
and I got to know each other, we exchanged stories about our lives. She looked
at me one day and said, “I’m surprised you’re not messed up.” I laughed it off,
but she went on to explain how lots of children would’ve been scarred from some
of my experiences. She said she was surprised I’d been so successful,
considering the scant opportunities I’d been afforded and the seemingly
insurmountable obstacles I’d faced.
I’d never
reflected poorly on my childhood. It hadn’t mattered that the principal beat
me, or that we were poor, or that I didn’t have a dad. I’d rolled with those
punches and remained a happy kid, growing stronger with each challenge I faced. I never looked back and I never harbored any ill feelings toward my father, the principal, or anyone.
Amanda’s words prompted me to consider my past. Statistically
speaking, I’d been destined to fail. My brother, who grew up right beside
me, had mentioned several times that he had been scarred by our past. I'd brushed him off and told him to get over it...that adversity only made us stronger. However, he eventually turned to alcohol and drugs to cope,
and lost a successful business, a wife, and his children in the process. Essentially, it had ruined his life.
So, then, how was it that I was able to work my
way from police cadet to chief investigator? Develop and command a successful
police sniper team? Become a traditionally published novelist? Achieve my
dream of being a professional boxer?
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| Me as Sniper Leader, Pro Boxer, Published Author |
As I pondered this, I suddenly realized
all of my successes could be directly attributed to one activity: READING. Every
time I’d wanted to learn a skill or embark upon a new endeavor, I turned to
books to be my guide along the path of knowledge. While I owe a debt of
gratitude to the authors of the many instructional books I’ve studied over the
years, the one author who has influenced me the most, especially during the most critical years of my boyhood, is Louis L’Amour.
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| My Current Louis L'Amour Collection |
I tell everyone
who’ll listen that Louis L’Amour raised me. During those impressionable years
of my youth, I learned more about real life from his fiction than from anywhere
else. I learned how to treat a woman with respect, to persevere even in the bleakest
of circumstances, and to be courageous in the face of grave danger. I learned
to be loyal to my family and friends, and to “ride for the brand”. I even learned
to stand on my own and achieve my goals through hard work and dedication, and
to never give up on my dreams.
Later, as a
father, I would always encourage my children to read…a lot. At worst, I knew
they might discover an alternative means of entertainment. However, I hoped reading would enrich their lives, and assist them in achieving their goals and realizing their dreams. Thankfully, I’m witnessing the latter. One thing is certain; had I not started
reading as a young boy, I would’ve been a statistic—the one that suggests
fatherless, uneducated boys who come from poor households almost never succeed
in life.
BJ Bourg is the author of JAMES 516 (Amber Quill Press, 2014), THE SEVENTH TAKING (Amber Quill Press, 2015), and HOLLOW CRIB (Five Star-Gale-Cengage, 2016).
© 2015 BJ Bourg
BJ Bourg is the author of JAMES 516 (Amber Quill Press, 2014), THE SEVENTH TAKING (Amber Quill Press, 2015), and HOLLOW CRIB (Five Star-Gale-Cengage, 2016).
© 2015 BJ Bourg
