I grew up in Stockton, California, in a place on the east side called Garden Acres, better known as “Okieville” because that is where a lot of people migrated to in the 1930’s and later. My father moved us there in 1944, built a shack, and then left my mother for a waitress from the local diner. We were worse than dirt poor, but we didn’t know it because my mother never let a day go by that she didn’t let my brothers and I know that she loved us. I believe that is the only reason I am here today. I was an unruly and selfish child who believed I should get anything that I wanted, and it did not matter how I got it. Growing up in Okieville, I got into many things that others did – most of them illegal. I broke my mother’s heart many times growing up, and I never gave it a thought. I believed that was just the way of life, and it was not until I was forty-four years old that I realized who I had become. It was overwhelming when I discovered that not all of the other people around me were the idiots, but the idiot was actually me.

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