Son

Born at the end of the baby boom, he was born as a 100% All-West German bastard. Yeah, as a bastard. His biological mother (Ilse) was a bit of a loose cannon (free Love, Spirit thing). Well, during one of these romps with a U.S. Army GI (who she names as Michael Cache'), she becomes pregnant. She's already a once divorced single mother at 20yrs old, she did not need this headache either.

Well, he was born anyway and his first official language was toddler-German his first breaths in a small town in Breitenbrunn, Germany, . He doesn't remember any of this, but his "siblings" do since they were all older than he was.  He knows that his grandmother (Oma - JoHanna) was a big influence in his tiny life, but he doesn't know why.  His first memories were of him attending kinder-garden, but not sure if it was a German or American school.  So, who was Dad?

Biologically, who knows. Paternally - well that distinction went to a kind hearted G.I. stationed in the area where he fell in love with Ilse and her 2 children (Tammy and Michael). That huge influence was Patrick F.  Michael doesn't quite remember life before there was a Patrick F., but his older sister (actually half-sister Tammy) did and stayed in Germany with Oma.  Patrick married Ilse in and suddenly Michael and Ilse were American citizens.

Michael remembers that he was not a very good son. He remembers that he used to kick his feet in a steady rhythm or knock his head against a pillow in a steady rhythm. He also used to suck his thumb in a weird way. The family (which went from 6 kids to 8) tried to break him of the habit, but were not successful.  He had a temper and was not afraid to use it.

Michael remembers being moved around quite a bit when he was young, just not sure where. He remembers Hawaii, Germany, Texas, Kansas, Colorado. His true and lasting memories started in Prairie Village, KS - and some details have never been spoken of before.

Michael and his closest step-sibling (Alice - born 3 days before Michael) attended 2nd-4th grade in Prairie Village. Those were some wild times. This is where Michael was introduced to:  smoking cigarettes; sex; marijuana; using a lawn mower; climbing huge trees; acting like a robber with a fake gun; breaking school windows; staying up late and the worst - lying through his teeth.

Patrick F.'s business took off and he took us away from Prairie Village to Shawnee, KS.  We moved into this huge house, had a creek in the huge back-yard. I remember was moved in the summer and I wanted to play football, like his big step-brother did.  So, between my older brother, Mom and "Dad", they worked out that I can play for the local YMCA team:  Eagles.  I was enjoying the crap outa it.

Well, I thought I would. My first practice, I remember running faster than the rest, taking charge and encouraging kids during practice (no pads yet).  I still didn't know the game of football.  So, when the coaches saw me do all the cool/quick/smart things, immediately I was selected as a half-back.

So, still not understanding the game, after 2 practices trying to find either the 1, 4 or 3 hole, I failed miserably.  I was soon that kid who watched the game from the sidelines.  I remember our very last game of my first football season and the defensive coach called me into the game. His lead linebacker was hurt or not well or...probably tired. The coach said:  Murf, I want you to go in there and tackle their guys who have the ball.  You need to sacrifice your body.  I really didn't know what it meant running out on the field - then it dawned on me:  who cares about getting hurt? Hit 'em harder.

Well, that's all it took - Sacrifice your body - last game of the season - so I did. QB sacked. An interception and multiple tackles.  Un-friggin stoppable at 10yrs old.

So, even though I was new to the school, this gave me celebrity status in 5th grade.  All the cool kids who didn't play football, suddenly started asking me about it and I hit cool-kid status.  6th grade comes around and I'm a mighty veteran of football now.  I am the lone star linebacker, along with my buddy Thumper.  I continue through the 6th, 7th, 8th grades as the star linebacker.

9th grade. Not sure what happened here. As the season started, I noticed some of the guys I used to knock on their ass, were suddenly harder to hit and actually hurt.  I noticed they were getting bigger and I wasn't. I noticed they talked about lifting weights and I talked about swimming or diving or ... better, I was out stealing cars to joy ride.

I started it. One night while lying in our sweltering house, I got up, looking for some butts to smoke. I saw my Dad's car keys.  Hmm...I can drive. So, I did. I drove his big ass Oldsmobile around the neighborhood, stopping at my friends house, calling him out.  I was scared to death, but we had a good time.

Well, one night, already have driven more than a couple times, I went to Scot's house, did a U-Turn, put it in Reverse.  Something hit. I think it might have been the tailpipe hitting the high curb.  Anyway, upon hitting something, I panicked and floored it -- still in Reverse. I nailed a fire hydrant and a light pole, tearing up my Dad's car.

I limped it back to the house - then - getting balls from somewhere - actually told my parents.

(This is probably the shortest blog ever. Since I can't get any money, I have a negative balance in my account, I've been mooching off the Chase credit card my ex wife opened. I just tried to use it to buy some "dip"...Declined. LOL. That's fkg awesome. My only source of food. My only source of sanity left in this world).