In My Teens

I was a shy kid. No self-confidence, no self-esteem. Probably just like any other kid from the rez in the 80s, except I lived in a mid-western town. Newberry, Michigan. Full of racist white kids. Then I moved to Boulder, Montana, where my dad got in a job in the state hospital. Cowboys. Rodeos. Square dances. Ranches. Horses, mountain lions, and rattlesnakes. Ghost towns. Mining. Don't know what it was about that town, but holy crap. It was a hell of a place to grow up in. It's where I learned to party hardy, put makeup on, and dress nicer. Much nicer. Thanks to a couple of kids that befriended me. Lisa C., Marcy B., and Susan R.

Oh, the things we got into!

Of course, it's also where I started getting into trouble at home, and getting into trouble with the law. It's also where I learned to play pool, to ride a horse, and had my first ride on the back of a Harley. And where I learned to drive.

When I was about 16, I set off on a country-wide tour, visited over 10 states, from Nevada to New Mexico to Minnesota. Memories I'll never forget.

Why am I telling you all this? I think I'm just putting this down as a testament on how I became me. The me that exists today. I lived through all the crazy, self-destructive crap I did back then, and am here to tell you about it.