User:Gregjhthewriter/sandbox

An Autobiography
I (Greg) was born November 22, 1954, in Detroit, Michigan, in the United States. I was adopted. In fact, my younger sister was also adopted. In my life, I have held many different jobs - busboy, movie theater usher, dishwasher, real estate salesman, job placement specialist for disabled individuals, singer, songwriter, recording artist, self-employed job placement specialist for severely disabled workers' compensation claimants, medical transcriptionist, story writer, and poet. I live in Kansas City, Missouri, and have lived here (off and on) ever since. I consider Kansas City, Missouri, my hometown, and I will probably live here for the remainder of my life. I write this autobiography because my life has been filled with defeats and challenges that led to success and victory. And, though the challenges will continue, my tale may inspire a reader to explore what is possible and defeat what others may have said is impossible,

My Parents
I was born on November 22, 1954, at Providence Hospital in Detroit, Michigan. I was adopted shortly after birth by Gordon and Stella Hillman, who were living in Lansing, Michigan. My natural birth history is unknown. While I attempted to determine my ancestry, too much time had passed before my research, and records containing this information had been destroyed.

In mid-1950s America, it was not uncommon for unwed mothers to give birth in a city other than where they lived to avoid the scandal and shame associated with having a child out of wedlock.

My father, Gordon Francis Hillman, was a fingerprint expert for the State of Michigan when he married Stella Marie Kintz, a nursing student, in Lansing, Michigan. Gordon and Stella's early life began with a "crazed" yet romantic dating life and a history of alcoholism, which would last the majority of their marriage.

Other than my mother's parents' names - Geroge and Louise Kintz, and her younger brother Cletus (Clete) and his wife Reva and their four sons: Steve, Larry, Phillip, and David - know next to nothing about her family. While we saw them occasionally and got along well, Clete and Reva lived in Detroit, Michigan, and my father HATED to travel outside of Lansing. ￼

I have a GREAT DEAL of information about my father's family.

Gordon was the youngest of three children born to George and Louise Hillman. Gladys was the eldest, and Alice was the middle child.

Most of my information came from my Aunt Gladys - a real "character" and a source of wisdom and hilarity whom I dearly miss.

My father's rebellious nature marked his childhood. He freely admitted to urinating off his parents' garage roof. and was punished (at least once) by being locked in a closet. He used alcohol at an early age and would continue to be a heavy drinker throughout most of his life. He and his sisters were raised Catholic, though their adherence was spotty and not precisely "spiritual." In fact, my grandfather, George, wasn't Catholic when he married Louise, and they weren't married in the Church.

My parents' dating life was filled with drunken escapades and MANY romantic and humorous exchanges. My mother told me of their "crowd" being so drunk in high school that they almost passed out on the steps of the State Capitol building in downtown Lansing. Though they flirted with others, they were securely smitten. My mother relates that when she saw my father off when he was drafted by the Air Force in World War II, she saw another man off at the other end of the same train. ￼

When my parents were married, my father was a fingerprint expert for the State of Michigan and my mother was a nursing student. In fact, my mother was so devoted to her career that she delayed marrying my father until she graduated - a rather progressive stance for a woman in the 1950s. She would work as a nurse her entire working life. She was particularly skilled in patient care and, after avoiding it for many years, was finally promoted to a supervisory position the last few years before she retired; she dearly missed direct patient care.

My father quickly became disappointed with his position with the State and obtained a two-year business degree at the local community college. He got his first "professional" job as an insurance salesman, and my family (my sister Louann had been adopted by this time) moved to Short Hills, New Jersey. My mother didn't work and was busy caring for Louann and me while my father was selling insurance on the railroad. My father relates that this job wasn't a "good fit" for him and many of his fellow salesmen were alcoholics, Based on this and the fact that he felt homesick for Lansing, we returned there after a very short stay in New Jersey,

My mother quickly found a nursing position, and my father obtained an entry-level accounting position at Michigan Millers - a small business insurance company; he would work there his entire career.

My Sister
You may note that I mention very little about my younger sister, Louann. Although we've been"estranged for a couple of years, our discomfort with each other has more to do with how boys and girls were raised in Catholic families in the 1950s and our geographic distance than personality conflicts. While I've considered returning to Michigan to "reconcile" our differences, I see no value for either of us, and my trip to Michigan is very much in doubt. If she happens upon this writing and responds in some manner, I will edit this piece and include her corrections and/or comments.

My Childhood
Before my puberty, my family moved a lot. The first residence in Lansing I remember was a rented house around the corner from one of my mother's relatives. They had an older daughter who often walked the one-and-a-half blocks to St. Casimir Grade School with me. I have two memories from there.

The remembrance of lesser significance is when I sprained my ankle and had to go "Trick-or-Treating" while wearing a cast (the mode of treatment at the time).

One morning, another student and I decided to "do a good deed" and earn some "brownie points." We decided to straighten the desks in the classroom while our fellow students were at Mass. Of course, leaving Mass for ANY REASON was strictly forbidden. And, to make matters worse, when we returned to Mass some ten minutes later, we genuflected with our backs to the altar. In those days, the nuns were seated in a separate room at the rear of the church with a glass window. Needless to say, we were caught red-handed! I'm sure my parents were notified, and it never happened again.

Our second residence was on the west side of Lansing at 1413 Willow Highway. We lived here from kindergarten through the first half of seventh grade. I attended kindergarten at Bretton Woods, and my mother and Louann (probably being carried or in a stroller) would walk the few blocks with me to and from school.

I attended St. Gerard Grade School first through the sixth grade. St. Gerard was also one-and-a-half blocks from our home. A very significant event happened at St. Gerard, which still haunts me. On my birthday (November 22, 1963), President Kennedy was assassinated. In a public school, this wouldn't have raised an eyebrow. However, President Kennedy was America's first Catholic president, and in St. Gerard, his death was a full-blown tragedy! At St. Gerard, our mothers baked a treat for us to pass out to our classmates on our birthdays. My mother baked my favorite chocolate chip cookies. Just before I was able to pass them out, a nun ran into our classroom, announcing Kennedy's death. We were rushed to the church next door, and school was dismissed. I was still hopeful for a joyful ninth birthday celebration because my grandparents, Aunt Gladys, Aunt Reva, her husband, Uncle Bud, and their son Mike were coming over for my birthday celebration. Remember, my family was Catholic. So, all their time was spent watching the TV coverage of the assassination. Very little attention was paid to me. I hated President Kennedy for a good portion of my life for dying on my birthday. It wasn't until I was out of college that I understood what a fine president he was. However, even at the age of 69, his death is still a burr under my saddle.

There were some beautiful memories of our time on Willow Highway. I recall spending many childhood Christmases at my grandparents' house. They had set up a display of a small village made of plastic models at the base of their Christmas tree. I remember lying there for hours staring at the plastic figures and imagining what these little people might be doing for the holiday. ￼

My best friend was a boy named Billy Lietzau. ￼ He and his sister Christine lived with their parents across the street from us. Billy and I would play for hours in each other's garage, enacting scenes from the popular Secret Agent TV show - THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E. would play the role of Napoleon Solo, and Billy was Ilya Kuryakin. We would battle the evil forces of T.H.R.U.S.H. for hours and always come out victorious.

I also recall a boy named Charles Lawler. He was around my age and had set up a small library. My father had instilled in me a love of reading, and I was following the Hardy Boys Mystery Series. I had read all the books in the series except for the Hardy Boys Detective Handbook Well, Charles had a copy, and I checked it out. However, I kept the book past the due date but refused to pay the fine. My father was told, and I paid the fine. This was the first of many times my father tried to give me some sense of financial responsibility, a skill I still struggle with today.

I also recall Louann and I begging my parents for a kitten. My father finally brought two of them home, but they scratched the leg of a very expensive dining room table, and my father let them go to a nearby field.

After pleading with my parents to send me to public school, they finally gave in, and I started seventh grade at Waverly Junior High School. I met a boy named Banny (a nickname). One day, when Banny was showing me a breadboard, he had made in woodshop class, he turned and hit it against one of my front teeth. I still have this chipped tooth.

Longing to return to his childhood neighborhood, my father moved the family to the east side of Lansing to 2950 Mayfair Drive. This proved to be disastrous for me.

Spiritual and Emotional Fog
Shortly after the move, Louann and I befriended a brother and sister living nearby -. Bill and Beth Bresler. Louann is still best friends with Beth.

Bill and I went through puberty together. Our first girl of desire was a girl who lived on our block - Kathy Green. She had large breasts (attractive to Bill and me), but her legs were large, and we referred to them as "Roman columns." Bill and I would often shoplift Playboy magazines from the local pharmacy and hide them in a plastic bag stored in our "underground fort" in a field behind my house. Shortly after we started this practice, the rain washed away our fort and the Playboy collection. I doubt Bill's interest in pornography. went any further. However, my interest and participation in it had just begun.

The Goodmans lived next door, and they had a daughter named Janice. Janice (as luck would have it) had large breasts and was near my age. I remember meeting her in the field behind my house one afternoon in a purely childish attempt to kiss her and fondle her breasts. At first, she couldn't figure out what was happening but then laughed at me and walked away.

While attending Resurrection, I began my seemingly never-ending quest to "be cool" and popular. This had much to do with my father being very cool and popular among his friends and family. This popularity search led me to a habit that was as hard to break as nicotine or crack addiction - LYING!

In eighth grade, I told a WHOPPER! I claimed to have seen a flying saucer. Of course, this never happened, and the entire premise was foolish of me. However, I clung to the improbable reality of this lie under questioning from my peers and other students. The effects of this lie prompted reactions opposite to those I desired. Instead of becoming popular, I was quickly labeled an outcast and crazy. Although I was picked on and ridiculed, the most painful reaction I endured was to be completely ignored by other students in the "in crowd," which I desperately wanted to join. This desire to "be cool" and part of the "in crowd" would control the majority of my life since then.

My lying (and reputation for it) followed me into high school. I was enrolled in Gabriel's High School - the local Catholic school. Despite my pleas to join my friend Bill at the public high school - Eastern - just across a large field from Gabriel's. I HATED EVERY SECOND OF HIGH SCHOOL!

Gabriel's was run by the Christian Brothers' order of St. Joseph. For those readers unfamiliar with Catholicism, brothers are the male equivalent of "sisters" or "nuns" in the Catholic church. Almost all of my teachers were Brothers.

Students at Gabriel's came from wealthy families. My family was wealthy, but you'd never know it to see me in high school. One reason why my parents were so well off is that my father had a famous (among his family and friends) for humorous practice of never spending a dime if he didn't have to, This may have been a workable strategy for wealth accumulation, but his reputation as a "skinflint." proved disastrous for my high school experience,

I remember Sanzabelt slacks being the popular clothing item for a while. However, in keeping with his thrifty ways, my father wouldn't purchase name brands but cheap knockoffs. I remember being stopped in the high school hallways, having my pants pulled down by other "cool" male students to see if my slacks were the "genuine article," then laughed at and tossed to the floor when they discovered they weren't the popular brand.

I was the victim of countless incidents of cruelty and derision.

Coach Greenwood was the school's "Physical Education Instructor." He was also the wrestling coach. In those days, the high school wrestling season lasted most of the school year and was the only thing practiced in our Physical Education Class. I remember Tim Theiss - a skinny classmate and a wrestler- - joining my class during the last period of the day. I have never been strong, physically fit, or coordinated, and Tim would take advantage of this and wrestle me almost daily. I was no match for him (or anyone else) and often just laid there and let him defeat me without a fight so I could end the ordeal quickly. I told my parents of this abuse, and (thankfully) they made it possible for me to be excused from Physical Education Class for the remainder of my time in high school.

With my reputation as a lying outcast and no friends (Bill had gone on to develop friendships in his public high school), I evidently fell into a deep depression. However, before my parents deemed my condition serious enough to warrant treatment, I sank into what I refer to as my  Spiritual and Emotional Fog.

While not an actual addiction, I began an almost lifelong habit of spending money on pornography (quarter-per-play X-rated video arcades) using my parents' car to cruise the downtown streets and pick up girls for blow jobs, etc.).

I lost my virginity when I was seventeen. I always looked older than my age and would often be able to enter a bar without having my ID checked. One night, when my family was out of town, I picked up an older woman at a bar and took her to my family's home for my first sexual encounter. I lied about my age and profession; I'm certain the woman knew this very well. We had sex in my bedroom, and it was GREAT! She said I would probably be good at oral sex. I had never heard of it and asked her to teach me. However, she was through with me, and I took her home. I attempted to have sex with her again several weeks later and ended up assaulting her. She never had sex with me, and if she reads this and recognizes herself or the situation, I sincerely apologize.

It must have been around this time that my parents sought treatment for my depression. I have no memory of being evaluated for it or when I started the medications. Still, I was placed on Zyprexa, Desyrel, and Trazodone and remained on them almost continuously until 2022. I do not remember ever being evaluated periodically to determine their effectiveness or update my treatment.

Needless to say, my sense of "reality awareness" was severely impaired for many years.

A Period of Musical Lucidity
A very positive series of events DID happen in high school. My musical talent continued to grow, and Jefery Nilsson, one year older than me, heard about my organ laying and introduced me to his older brother ' Paul Nilsson'. Paul was (and probably is) an artistic genius. Not only is he a talented artist and singer, but he turned out to be a mentor to me for musical expression and how to make my way in life in the face of my troubles.

Paul was the leader of a four-piece band named Norwood" - no doubt loosely named after the Beatle's song "Norwegian Wood.'' I wanted to become a full band member quickly, but I wasn't talented enough yet. Paul, recognizing this, allowed me to be a "roadie," handle sound mixing and equipment setup, and act as a "gofer" for the band. He recognized that my talent and personal growth WOULD reach the point where I could comfortably be included in the band and perform with them.

We played a variety of small gigs: Weddings, high school graduation parties, and a few proms and homecomings, We eventually found a regular gig at a restaurant and bar near Michigan State's campus called the "Frank N Stein." As I became better at playing my organ, I often played a solo gig or two at the Frank N Stein.

Though we went through many drummers, the band's permanent members included /a female singer named Cory, Jim Pearson, the bass player, and John Koenigschnecht on lead guitar and vocals. Norwood finally went the way of most "garage bands." Paul was only in the band to support himself while he looked for a high school teaching position. His girlfriend, Christine (Chris), would later become his wife and mother of their two children, Aaron and Leah. Norwood split up as the members went their separate ways. John later married Kathleen, and they changed their last name to Kingslight. They became successful musicians and would later perform on my album '''Quiet Times on a Lonely Night.

My Undergraduate Years
In my junior and senior years in high school, I somehow developed a goal to become a psychologist. Not just an "ordinary" psychologist, but a "world-famous" psychologist - the "Sigmond Freud" of all psychologists. This was another "delusion of grandeur." I had (and still have) no talent for this profession. While I am learning to listen, I had spent much of my life being a "talker." And listening is something I focus on each day.

In search of a good college to study psychology, I investigated Hofstra University in New Jersey. However, my father was dead set against paying for me to live away from home and chose Michigan State University instead. ￼

Once again, my decision to choose a major was as "cockeyed" as all other major decisions in my life at that time.

Still believing that I was going to be a world-famous psychologist, I also believed I would be the "savior of the African American population" in America. Because of this delusion, I deduced that I would be working in a large city. Because of this, I also concluded that education regarding large cities would be helpful. ￼

In 1972, when I entered Michigan State, the university opened the College of Urban Development. Of the two majors within the college, I selected Urban & Metropolitan Studies (to study the city, of course). I thought this would set me up to work in a large city.

My three years as an undergraduate at Michigan State was personally fascinating and tragic. My choice of a major had no bearing on my employability upon graduation. Again, it was connected to this "pie-in-the-sky" idea of becoming a world-famous psychologist. My "plan" was to pursue a doctorate in psychology upon graduation from Michigan State. ￼

If you've been paying attention, you should remember that I was still in the throes of my sex-and-porn habit. Rather than focus on my coursework, I spent the majority of my undergraduate years trying to sleep with every girl in a skirt and spent what little money I made from part-time jobs on porn and prostitutes. ￼

I recall a couple of coursework experiences. The first was during a required class in my freshman year in Natural History. Professor Racle had a guest speaker who introduced the concept of "special creation" instead of "evolution." While I may not have paid much attention to it at the time, exploration of the idea of "special creation would later, in my opinion, for the creation of humanity. ￼

The second course of note was Astronomy 101. Professor Saaf taught this. It was a popular class for social science majors as we were required to complete a course in the Sciences. Knowing this, Professor Saaf polled the class on the first day and noted only a few out of close to 100 people in the class were Science majors. The course was structured, so class attendance wasn't mandatory, The three tests were based on the textbook, and your final grade was on a curve. I didn't learn many scientific details about astronomy, but Professor Saaf left me with a lifelong fascination with the stars.

I had some very positive relationships during my undergraduate years at MSU. ￼

The first was a girl named Mary Lou Sloboda. I can't recall how we met. However, she (as with many women in my life) had large breasts, which initially caused me to overlook many of her less-redeeming qualities. The first was that she was a smoker. I hate smoking and rarely dated a smoker. She may have been the first college girlfriend I introduced to my parents. My parents were actually encouraged about the possible success of our relationship because of her smoking habit. On the other hand, most of my efforts were aimed at trying to have sex with her and be the boy to which she lost her virginity. Two things led to the breakup of our relationship after approximately seven months. The first was a Buck Owens country music concert I took her to. He performed a version of Chuck Berry's "Johnny B. Good," and it was terrible. The second was the fact that, despite many attempts, we never did have sex. ￼

My relationship with Kathy Potrikus was more significant. I forget the name of her major, but she performed a great deal of research on termites. I think I met her because she was a friend of my barber. She was a wonderful young woman, and (because I was deep in my fog), I really missed an opportunity to be involved in a wonderful relationship. After dating for almost a year, her brother died in a car accident. I had all the sensitivity of a stone and told her I couldn't talk with her about her grief because I had no experience with losing someone close to me. She broke up with me soon after that statement. I would have done the same thing. I hope she is well and happy wherever she may be, and I still regret that missed opportunity.

One of my professors was a very positive influence on my life: Tom Tenbrunsel. I developed (what I termed) a "friendship" with him. Looking back, I'm sure he may have felt a little sorry for me because I was having so many personal problems. I introduced him to my parents and spent some time with his wife and two children. Soon before I graduated, he moved to Montgomery, Alabama and I made a visit there and spent a day with his family. As with another man in my life, I would meet later, I now realize I was looking at Professor Tenbrunsel as a "father replacement" because I so disliked my own father. As you'll read later, my feelings about my father are a "mixed bag." Of course, he would never be a replacement father to me, and time, distance, and maturity have helped me to position Professor Tenbrunsel in a proper position in my life: significant and positive but not of long duration.

An idea that wasn't "cockeyed" and actually proved to be crucial in my only successful career choice was my relationship with a man named Richard Bolles. He is the author of the 'What Color is Your Parachute 'book series regarding unconventional ways to become employed. I worked for Mr. Bolles in one of his experimental "Job Shops" in North Carolina shortly after graduation. However, as could be predicted, I had neither the management skills nor the maturity to perform the job and was fired after a couple of weeks.

Following Undergraduate Graduation
I graduated from college! How I escaped with a "B" average is beyond me.

- Please keep in mind that I am still in and out of this spiritual and emotional fog -

There I was with a completely worthless college degree in terms of employability. If I had selected "Urban Planning, " THAT would have been marketable. However, my degree in Urban & Metropolitan Studies qualified me to do absolutely nothing with which I could earn a living. So, what was I to do? ￼

The first thing I had to do was generate some source of income. I must say that, even during my fog and for the remainder of my life, I have found some employment that pays me enough to live on.

Using my relationship with Fr. Sullivan, he provided a reference for me to get a job as a "bouncer" in a rock-and-roll bar across from the Michigan State University campus. This job would lead to my first marriage. ￼

The idea of me being a bouncer is absurd. I HATE any violence. Luckily, the other bouncers working with me were involved in sports at the university and loved to "mix it up" to throw out drunk and rowdy customers. I happily held the door open as they did so.

One evening, while I was checking IDs at the door, an older woman came in with a girlfriend. She was attractive (in spite of having small breasts), and I remember using the line: ''What's a nice-looking woman doing in a bar like this? Slumming?'' She responded by giving me her phone number, and I called her and started a relationship.

I was in my early 20s, and she was in her early 30s. Her name was Sally Osgood. She had a seven-year-old daughter from her previous marriage named "Tory" (a nickname for Victoria). My relationship with Sally was entirely based on sex. Before our wedding, the sex was great. After the wedding, the sex died, and the marriage followed in less than a year.

There were some significant events during my relationship with Sally.

One was my relationship with her younger brother Michael. Michael was a large man like me, and he and I got along fairly well. He was married to Shelly (a nickname for Michelle), and they had two children. They lived near the small town of Eaton Rapids, Michigan - approximately ten minutes south of Lansing. They lived at the end of a dead-end dirt road and their house was a mess, despite Shelley's efforts to keep it clean. Michael was essentially unemployed but managed to provide for his family with a variety of odd jobs. He was a fairly good auto mechanic and repaired my Datsun more than once. I remember his efforts to complete a pole barn on their property.

Sally also had an older sister, but I cannot recall her name. Her husband worked for an automobile manufacturer, and she owned her own flower shop. They had three children.

While Michael and I got along, All other family members (mine and Sally's) were against our marriage. My parents didn't care for Sally and Sally's sister didn't care for me.