On July 20, 1982, my mother re-married a man by the name of J.C. Clemons Sr.
The letters of his name never stood for anything. It was just his name.
I had a love/ hate relationship with this man. He was a true character indeed. He was a man that worked hard to provide for us as a family. For that, I gave him the respect that he deserved.
However, he never let it be that he didn't like me and my sister because we were not his kids.
Part of the reason that I lost my respect for my mother is because she would let his verbal abuse to us slide because it was his house.
Even though he was verbally abusive, I still had respect for him because I felt fortunate to grow up in a nice house with a man leading it. I could not say that for some of the other kids that lived in my neighborhood.
I laugh about this now, but every year that my birthday came around he would remind me about how many years left that I had to get out of his house. This started after the year that I turned 13.
I really don't think that he meant it as harshly as it came out. I know now that it was his way of reminding me that I had only a few years left until I were to become a man and that I needed to figure out a plan for my life. Some of the better memories that I had of him was during the Christmas season. He would always get excited about putting up the Christmas lights and decorating the Christmas tree. This was always one of the more softer times that he would show happy emotions towards us as a family. Every year for Christmas, outside of all of the presents that we would receive, we would also receive a full bucket of cashews, apples, and oranges. To this day, I never figured out the reason why that happened.
Another happy memory that I had of him was when he used to rent old black and white movies that starred Abbott and Costello and Tarzan for out family movie times. This was a way for him to relive his childhood as well as expose us kids to something that was new to us. I came away with more knowledge than I had bargained for. None of my friends would ever know the excitement that I would have watching those movies with him.
Years later after we had all moved out of the house, I sat with him and I asked him what it was like to finally have his house back. He replied, " I am enjoying being able to walk around in my underwear, but now I have to talk to your mother. I have forgotten how to do that. "
As I have stated before, he was truly indeed a character.
On April 8, 2010, we lost my stepfather due to a secretive battle with lung cancer. After his death, my family has never been the same. No longer do we put up the lights or gather at the family home during the holidays. Being estranged from my family is not something that I had planned that my life would be like, but it is what it is.
The moral of the story is this: No matter how much you disagree with the ones that you love, always find a way to establish peace among all of you of you. When the world has turned it's back on you, your family is all that you have left. Never for get it.
