Home Life

Growing up, I always thought my life and family setting were normal. We lived on Mansfield Drive, as did my Nonni, Nonno, Nonna and Zia. I suppose when you don’t know any different, what would you possibly have to compare to?

My mom, dad, little brother and I lived in one of the biggest houses on our street. My parents even had a pool built in, (the only one on the street, unheard of in South San Francisco). My grandparents lived about a dozen houses away, on the same side of the street. My aunt lived across the street. My little world was happy and stable. I loved going to school and was pretty good at it too. My Nonni and Nonna would meet me after school, with my brother in the buggy, to walk me home and wait for mom to come home from work. This was my first school, Serra Vista Elementary School. I went to Serra Vista through the third grade.

About this time, my parents purchased a home in Belmont, CA. It was 1976. I remember because we moved in over the 4^th of July weekend, and it was a big deal then with the bicentennial and all. Still, to this day whenever I see a bicentennial quarter, it makes me think of that weekend moving to Belmont. I remember not wanting to be so far from my Nonni and Nonno. I remember feeling so scared to start anew. Little did I know at the time, but this moving stuff was going to become the norm for me.

I began the fourth grade at Benjamin Fox Elementary School with Senorita Clark. A woman I despised from our very first meeting. She insisted we call her Senorita and tried to teach us Spanish, which pissed me off at my young age of nine. It was truly my worst year of school to date. I don’t remember having many friends, but I do remember taking up smoking: menthols.

From there, our school caught fire in the summer between 4^th and 5^th grade, so we were bussed off to McDougall Elementary School, where we were not very welcomed. About this time my parents started having marital problems and my dad, whom I adored, got his own apartment. This is when my grades began to drop and I developed many stomach aches and various ailments. I remember one time feeling ill and going to the office with complaints. After the nurse called home, I was so elated to see it was my dad who came to pick me up.

My 6^th grade year was back at Ben Fox and I still remember my teachers’ name: Mr. VonKluck. He was an eccentric little man that wore a suit and tie every day. I remember thinking he looked just like he had popped out of Topper, (I always loved those old shows, still do). At this point, I still did not have many friends, but I didn’t care because I got to spend every weekend at Nonni and Nonno’s house where I did have friends.

Middle School came and I attended Ralston Intermediate School. I actually loved it there and made many friends. I even had made my first “best friend” Chrissy. Having a great friend made going to school more desirable and also started to keep me home on weekends. It was about this time that I started going to parties, drinking beers, and noticing boys in a totally different way. I was having fun for the first time in a long time. My dad was still intermittent with his home time.

It was towards the end of my 8^th grade year when I came home from school one day, and to my surprise both my mom and dad were there. They sat me down to tell me of their parting ways. It went something like this, “Lisa, we both love you and always will. This has nothing to do with you and is in no way your fault, but mom and I are getting divorced. We still love each other, but can no longer live together.” Wow, I had no idea. I was eleven at the time, my brother eight. I think I was the one to break the news to my brother. It was all very sad and I think I must have blocked out a lot from that time as it was so painful, there are very few details I can recall. It was soon after that that my dad just never came home again. My mom was sad and our lives were about to change dramatically once more.

As all of my friends were gearing up to start high school, I was about to move once again. Heartbreaking as it was, I had lived in a place I grew to love for five years and was now faced with starting all over once again. This was really a difficult time for me. My Belmont home was long forgotten, my dad was gone, and my mom, my brother and I were moving to San Mateo into a little house on 31^st Avenue. It was about this time that I started smoking in the house in front of my mom and family. It was also at this time that I really stopped caring about my life, myself, and about school. I just didn’t care anymore.

Hillsdale High School was not much fun for me. Again, I had no friends, no ties, nothing. It was a whole lot of despair. All I wanted to do was be with my old Belmont friends and party as to forget my sad situation. I only went to this school for the first semester of my ninth grade year.

We moved again, shortly after Christmas, this time to Sunnyvale, which seemed a lifetime away from Belmont or San Mateo. At least in San Mateo, I was still in proximity to my Belmont friends and could meet up with them by using public transportation. Sunnyvale was much farther away, and it was the middle of the school year. Apparently, my mom had a new job and a new boyfriend, (that I hated with every ounce of my being). To make matters worse, I was on my way back to middle school as this county had their students in middle school through 7-8-9^th grades. Bummer. I will never forget my first day at Peterson Middle School, my mom brought me in and said, “I don’t know how you are going to get home, but you’ll figure it out.” All I could think of that day was, “where exactly am I and how will I find my way home?” Luckily there was a big map in the counseling office that I could look at and decipher a route home. We did live pretty far from school. I am guessing at least two miles. I did OK at Peterson, but looking back now, I was a sad little girl.

My tenth grade year began at Wilcox High School and I felt pretty sure that things would go well for me. I started making some new friends and it wasn’t until I had found a boyfriend of my own that I really felt a bit more confident. His name was Tom and he was a friendly and fun guy to be around. His family was nice to me and I began to spend more time with his family than my own. Besides, my mom had stopped coming home, or even grocery shopping for us anymore. Still, I tried to avoid my own home life as much as possible. Looking back now, I wonder what my little brother was doing. It seems we were merely surviving.

Since my grades were slipping due to my continuous partying and non-caring attitude towards school, I was recommended to go to our districts local continuation school, Valley. I did so and really enjoyed my time there. Honestly I never belonged in a continuation school in the first place, as I was a smart student. I just had a fucked up home life that got in the way of my success. I did well at Valley and would have loved to stay there beyond my junior year, but once again, the turmoil in my home took precedence.

My mom had broken up with her asshole boyfriend by this time and was dating several black men. It was the summer of 1984 that she met and married Rocky, who wasn’t much better than any of the others. Rocky moved in to the mobile home my grandparents had bought for us and began to take charge, even typing up a list of duties for my brother and me to abide by. It was all so unreasonable that I could not simply sit by and allow this stranger to take over my life. I truly hated him. It came down to a confrontation one afternoon when my mom was not home. He pretty much told me to “get the fuck out.” I left home and called my mom in hopes of some comfort and what she said to me at that desperate moment of my life is something I will never forget. She said to me, over the phone, “if Rocky leaves me because of you, I will never forgive you.” Those were probably the harshest words ever said to me; because at that moment, what I really needed was love and reassurance. That is not what I received. I was crushed and felt incredibly alone, as if I had no one left to care for me. I did not know what else to do, so I called my dad. He was living in Burlingame at the time with his new, young wife. He came to pick up my brother and I and took us home to his apartment. It was clear that his wife did not like or want us there. I was already broken and did not care about myself or my life. It seemed that no one really cared for me, so what value did I have?

The next morning, my dad took Aaron and I to my grandparents home. I should say that by this point my grandparents were not speaking to my mom and had not been invited to her recent wedding, as they did not approve. My brother did not stay with Nonni, Nonno and me. He missed my mom too much and returned home to her and Rocky. I stayed with my grandparents and vowed never to return home again. I never did.

Luckily my grandparents took me in with open arms and plenty of love. I was about to begin my senior year in high school and again about to embark on a new environment. Since I had just come from a continuation school, I was placed in another continuation school in another county. This school was called Baden. I didn’t much like it there, but I did well I think mostly because my home life was now more stable than it had ever been. I actually did so well that I was recommended to go to the mainstream high school mid-year. Again, I transferred schools and was now at El Camino High School. Unfortunately, with all of the transfers and many schools on my transcripts, I had missed out on some units and told that I did not have enough to graduate with my class. I was brokenhearted once more. My Nonni so understood, she allowed me to drop out just weeks before year end. I then pursued my high school diploma by taking my GED. My horrible high school experience had come to an end. I lived with Nonni and Nonno for five years before moving back to the south bay.

I should also mention that at the time my mom married Rocky; I had met and started dating my future husband, Glenn. I really loved him and it made it all the more difficult to leave my home in Sunnyvale and live in South San Francisco again. I was sixteen, in love, heartbroken and in need of some stability. Throughout this tough time, Glenn and I stayed together, spending weekends together and enjoying each other’s company.

Glenn and I dated off and on for the next six years. We eventually married in 1989 and have remained happily married to this day. We now have two beautiful, intelligent, and well adjusted children that brighten our days. We have worked hard to provide stability, consistency and a loving home for them. I am proud to say that Glenn and I will be celebrating our twentieth anniversary about six weeks from now. I am also swollen with pride in the fact that I have been able to keep my children in the same school district, with their same peers throughout their school careers. Sarah graduated in 2008 at the top of her class with the same students she went to kindergarten with. Alex is about to begin high school and also has some of the same acquaintances he has known since preschool.

I think some people take for granted just how lucky they are to live a stable life and have the opportunity to build lasting relationships. I have very few. Fortunately, I do have Glenn. Glenn is my best friend in this life. I love him more than he may even know. He has never wavered in his love for me and I find that extremely admirable. He sees in me what I do not see. I am blessed to have him and the home life he has helped create for me. I don’t always show my feelings and have a real difficult time trusting people.

All I ever wanted in this life was a stable family stemmed from love. I now have these things, but still have days where I think I don’t deserve what I do have. I know it comes from that sad little girl inside that doesn’t feel loved or of value. I know that is not me anymore, but sometimes, just sometimes, when I am having a weak moment, I feel like that sad little girl all over again.

Thank God for Glenn, Sarah, Alex and this stable life I am now living.