Where were you the night Bobby Kennedy was shot?


I have 3 older brothers ,Steve born in 1954, Geno born in 1957,and John born in 1958. I also have 1 older sister Rose who was hatched on a dark day in 1961. I was born in the middle of a snow storm in 1964, thereby making the family more or less complete. John was not happy with me at all. I was born on December 1st. He was born on December 2nd. He complained to anyone who would listen that I had forever ruined his birthday. At one point when I was 6 or 7 months old he tried to trade me with a neighbor boy for a red wagon and some comic books. Mom thank God put a halt to that.
Even when I was as young as 2 or 3 I kept a wary eye on John. I knew he was out to get me.
Unfortunately I was keeping an eye out on the wrong brother.
On Christmas eve 1967 , while all of us children hid in the bathroom, a very drunk Santa (After opening a beer and making a pass at Mom ) left his gifts for us children. When it was safe, we rushed out and tore open our gifts. Rose was happy to find a Chatty Cathy doll, Geno and John were given toy bow and arrow sets(the arrows had suction cup ends or I would have had an arrow sticking out of my head that night.) I was given among other things cowboy and Indian toy figures with a little fort for them to fight over.
Steve opened his gift to find a b.b. pump action rifle. At the time it was the most powerful b.b. rifle you could buy. Steve smiled ear to ear when he saw it. He would point at all of us and mock fire it.
Mom was clearly not happy. We had already had one gun incident in our home around 6 months earlier. Also when she was a little girl her brother was killed when he slipped Deer hunting and shot himself in the head. She made her feelings known to Dad who said,"It;s just a b.b. rifle. What could happen?" He then opened another beer can and went back to drinking.
During the next 6 months Steve spent most of his time outside firing at little targets he would set up in the back yard. Sometimes he would let Geno and John join him, but he was always very careful to watch them. He didn't want a accident to happen. Even though I'm sure I asked he would never let me touch his rifle. He said I wasn't old enough. Rose also wasn't allowed to fire the rifle because often one of her Barbie dolls was the target.
In the Early evening of June 4 1968 ,Mom and Dad decided to go to a movie. Instead of looking for a babysitter like they always did, Mom and Dad let Steve babysit us for the first time. Steve who was 13 had wanted to do this for a while. He took his new responsibility very seriously, watching us all very closely.
Since I was the youngest he spent most of the night playing with me. I really loved playing cowboy and Indians. Since Steve had the rifle he was quite naturally the cowboy. Geno and John let me borrow one of their bow and arrow sets to play the Indian.
While Steve and I were running all over the yard and the house pretending to shoot each other, Geno and John were constructing a make shift tetter-totter with a large board they had found. Once it was made they convinced Rose to sit on it. The two boys then spent the next 10 minutes bouncing it up and down so fast she couldn't get off. When she finally fell off she ran into the house crying. Steve was so mad he made all of us go in the house.
Besides Star Trek was coming on.
Once in the house I continued to run up to Steve and shoot him with my bow and arrow. My shots were so bad I was hitting everything but Steve. He was tired of the game by now, but wanting to keep me happy he would lazily point the rifle at me and say ,"Bang." Geno, John, and Rose were sitting on the couch watching television, doing their best to ignore us. At one point I jumped out from behind the couch and fired my bow at Steve. It missed wildly. As I turned to run Steve pointed the rifle in my general direction and said,"bang." However this time Steve actually pulled the trigger.
The rifle made a loud,"POP" noise.
A b.b. pellet entered my back and nicked my spine. I fell to the floor like a sack of wet potatoes, out cold.
Everyone else jumped when the rifle went off. Steve started cussing loudly. He had thought that it was unloaded. For a few moments no one noticed me laying on the floor. When they did see me they thought I was just playing dead, but after jabbing me a few times with the b.b. rifle and seeing the trickle of blood they understood I'd really been shot.
"Jeez Steve you're going get it now" John said.
Steve ran around the living room for a few minutes saying over and over again,"Oh God Dad's going to kill me. Dad's going to kill me!" Evertime he said it, it was more desperate then it was the last time.
Like any other group of kids that had just seen their brother shot they were unsure of what to do. Instead of calling the hospital or police or anyone they drug my limp body into Mom and Dad's room. Then they discussed what they should do with me. Steve said ,"If we all stick together we'll get though this." Geno, John, and Rose all agreed.
They were in the middle of trying to make it look like I had shot myself when they saw my parents pulling into the driveway. Geno, John, and Rose wished Steve good luck and took out the back door doing their level best to make it look like they had been playing outside all night.
Steve met my parents at the door and tried his best to look innocent. Mom asked Steve how everything went.
"Fine", he said. After another second he asked,"Mom, Dad do you love me?"
Mom looked at Steve and said gently,"Of course we love you Steve." Dad immediately alarmed started looking around for what was wrong.
Dad asked, "What did you do Steve?"
"You'll love me no matter what?"
Now Mom was getting a little worried. "Of course Steve", she said.
"What happened Steve", Dad asked very harshly.
"I killed Tom! His body is in your bedroom!"
"What the hell were you doing in my bedroom", my father asked before what Steve told him had sunk in. Mom and Dad ran to the bedroom to find me laying on the floor.
At this point the other kids came in .
"Oh My God! Why did you shoot Tom", Rose screamed
"Why didn't you come and get us", Geno asked.
"Oh Steve, how could you", John said in a very sad voice.
My Dad picked me up and carried me out to the pick up truck. He laid me in the back and had Mom sit back there holding me. Dad sped off tot the hospital.
One of my first clear memories after being shot was the bright circle of lights above the exam table, with Doctors and Nurses peering down at me. At three years of age I wasn't sure what I was seeing , but I was fairly sure I had been shot and kidnapped by aliens.
Early the next morning the Doctors told my parents that the b.b. was too close to my spine. If they tried to remove it they might paralyze me. As I lay in my hospital bed still trying to understand just what was going on, I could hear Nurses and other people saying things like ,"I can't believe they shot him!" Some were even crying over it.
Wow, I thought. They really care about me.
Before I came home Mom removed all the guns from our house.( It was about time) and life returned to semi-normal. It was only much later that I found out that this was the same night Bobby Kennedy was shot. I've tried to prove that Steve and Sirhan Sirhan planned the whole thing but so far no luck.
I mean honestly, Bobby Kennedy and ME being shot on the same night? What are the odds?
That damn b.b. would stay inside me for almost another year causing many problems before the doctors finally got it out.
And Steve would only babysit me once more before my parents came to the conclusion, that this was just a bad idea.


Me on the hospital bed.

Dad

(Dad shortly before he seized power in Iraq)

It was Fathers day last Sunday. As a loyal son I spent part of the day with my Dad. He's old now. Older then his 68 years. He's had at least 10 small strokes and each one has robbed us of a little bit more of him then the last one.
So for Father's day I'll finish my thoughts I began last time and move on. As you read this blog you may notice my Dad will seem to have 3 distinct personalities. One is a abusive drunk , with a beer can almost always in his hands. Another is a alcohol and drug consoler who devoted his life to helping other people with substance abuse problems. The third is a man with a perverse sense of humor. This guy thinks nothing is funnier then convincing his youngest son that something incredible is happening. And of course the youngest son (me) falls for it everytime.
Dad is a man that changed much in the course of his life. He started out as a charmed man to whom everything was easy for him. He was the lead singer in a very popular county and western band. By 18 he was the most popular DJ at the local radio station. He joined the marines and served two years. When he came back he was engaged to a very pretty young lady from his hometown. He got his job back with the radio station and everything seemed to be on track with him.
At this time Dad saw his former girlfriend. He was dating her before he joined the marines. They started talking and decided to have a drink together. As they were driving home She asked Dad to pull over. When Dad did she pulled a picture from her purse and showed it to him.
It was obvious that dad was looking at his 2 year old son. His name was Steve he was told. She told Dad that after he had left for the marines she found out she was carrying his child. She wanted Dad to think about what he wanted to do , and then give her a call. Dad dropped her off by her car and went home. He showed his Mom the picture he had been given. Grandma took one look and said ,"Well it looks like I have a grandson. What are you going to do about it ?"
It took Dad a week to decide. But being the type of man who took responsibility very seriously he broke up with his fiancee , and married my Mom. Now I am very happy he did this, but I'm not sure I could have done what he did. He left the woman he loved to marry my Mom out of a sense of obligation. Of course it could have something to do with my Mom's Dad and 9 brothers all carrying shotguns.
What's worth pointing out is if you look at a picture of my Dad when he's younger he is almost always smiling. If you look at a picture after he's married there's always a frown on his face.
My Dad at Christmas? Frowning.
My Dad at a family reunion? Frowning.
My Dad when I was born? Really big frown. (Looks like some tears as well)
After he married my Mom , Dad's life didn't go as well as it had been. Dad began to blame my Mom and Steve for his life turning out the way it did. Always a heavy drinker he now began to get drunk with a greater and greater frequency. Dad began to become abusive to my Mom.

My first memory is a very violent one. I was 3. I had originally wrote in this space about it. But after reading it I realize I don't have the talent to describe that night. My Dad was by far the one who ended up worse for wear that night. But what's so surprising is it wasn't a turning point. Dad didn't drink as much for a while. He was less abusive for a while. But in the end it didn't change anything.
It took almost 7 years for Dad to quit drinking finally. His life changed almost overnight. Dad went from some drunk staggering out the back door to get more beer , to a man wearing a 3 piece suit and asking the Governor of Iowa to speak at a fundraiser for the drug abuse clinic Dad was trying to get off the ground.
Dad built and started The Good Shepard Foundation. It was a place where anyone with substance abuse problems could come or call almost 24 hours a day for help. For the next 17 years he spent a great deal of his time trying to help people overcome their problems. He never did become a warm a fuzzy guy. If anything he went from a mean and grouchy drunk , to a mean and grouchy substance abuse counselor. My friends were all scared of him before he stopped drinking , and they were all scared of him after he stopped drinking.
Hopefully I'll be able to touch more fully on Dad's story as I go further and further into this blog. Please keep in mind that Dad's a complex person , one that I might not be able to fully get a handle on .
One last thing.
Since this is a Father's Day posting (kinda late I know ), I'll say why I admire my Dad so much,despite everything he was when I was younger.
Once I asked my Dad what finally made him stop drinking. Dad told me he was sick and tired of being the person he was. He knew that eventually he would lose his wife and family . Dad decided that day he wanted to be a better man then what he was.
And that's Dad's gift to me.
No matter how bad life gets , I know I can be a better man then what I am. It's never to late to change and start your life over. It's never too late to affect the world around you in a more positive way.

Unless you're French. Then you're just a hopeless cheese eating surrender monkey.
( If you are French please see my very sincere apology of September 9)