Another one Bite the Dust

Now what happened next was somewhat of a blur for me. Not only because I was so young but because it happened quickly. I remember looking at my sister Barbara standing on the stairs that led up to the main floor of the house where my grandmother lived and I remember hearing that my mother and father were arguing. I turned around to see what was going on and in an instant, I saw my father’s closed hand fly through the air and land squarely in the middle of my mother’s mouth. For just a second, the entire house was as quiet as a house full of children on Christmas Eve. Not a sound was heard or word was mumbled as my mother stumbled backwards and hit the faux wood wall that lined the flooded basement walls. Barbara says that it is not possible for me to remember something as damaging as this moment but most of it I can remember with crystal clear clarity. It’s amazing that a child as young as three can remember such a horrific incident for the rest of their lives, but have trouble remember how to change a fraction into a decimal isn’t it? But not me I can remember fractions fairly well. LOL Well anyway, My mother continued to live with my father and us kids. I can't understand why she chose the life that she did but she did and there's nothing I can do or say to change it now. Over the years, there were fights and more fights and arguments and flying furniture and silverware until the one night that my mother came home from a doctor's appointment and told my father that she was pregnant again. This was the beginning of the end for the Lorenz family household.

The memories I have to bare are the only form of Heaven I have on Earth (Robert Cruz 16y/o)

From what Barbara tells me, after my mother had cleaned the weapon with my father, the argument started. Mom knew that after she had cleaned the gun, she put the magazine in and cocked it which put a round in the chamber and after doing so, she dropped the clip and left the gun on the table where she was cleaning it. I still, to this day, don’t understand what got into my mom’s head. Unfortunately I never will because she passed away in December of 2007. Anyway, my upbringing was marred by a few incidents and accidents here and there but the most memorable “incident” happened when I was about 3 years old and I can remember it like it was yesterday.

After my mother and father had gotten married, they moved to Texas and lived there for a short time. Nobody in my family really remembers anything that happened in Texas. I am not sure why but I am guessing that it has something to do with “selective memory loss”. Anyway, we lived in Texas for about 2 years and finally ended up in Valhalla, New York which is where my father was raised. My dad’s side of the family owned a large house there since the early 20^th century and to save money, the entire family moved in with my grandmother on my father’s side. My mom, dad, sister and brother and I all lived in the basement of the house. Now, mind you, since the house had been built by my grandfather, nobody really knew more about it than my father but as big as the house was, neither my grandma nor my dad chose to actually keep up with the important maintenance. Of course, when it needed a new roof or a paint job then it was done. But since we lived in the basement and my grandmother live upstairs, she didn’t really know that every time it rained, the basement would flood. My dad would complain about it and say that he had to do something about it, but he was always too drunk to follow through on any of his promises. So imagine a family with three young children living in a house in which the basement flooded all the time and nothing would be done about it. Yeah it was that bad.

On one particular evening, my mother had just come home from work and my father had already been tipping the bottle for quite some time. One thing led to another and an argument arose –which wasn’t really an abnormal occurrence in our household- and the five of us were about to have our lives changed in the most unusual and horrible ways that a family can be changed…

Where do I begin?

Ok, so where should I begin? Should I start where my life began? Or should I begin when my life had changed into what I was trying to achieve a few years ago? Actually, you can't really tell a real story unless you have all the facts from beginning to end right? SO... I am guessing that maybe I should start all the way from the beginning. I hope you are ready for a long story because I don't really know how to tell all about myself if I don't write it in detail. I will try to spare you all the boring and unremarkable times that don't really have any meaning if that's o.k. with you. Actually now that I think about it I don't think I will. I want to tell a story and the only way I know how is to let every detail and every experience come to life in these words that you are reading here. So here I go, prepare yourself for a wild ride through the turbulent life and twisted mind of Ron Lorenz.

I should start with talking about family cause that is the number one issue with me. I won't go into detail just yet right now because if I do, this blog will never end. But anyway, life for me began in the summer of 1980 in Long Beach, California. My mother, Peggy, and my father, Ron, had met in a bar somewhere and had dated for a few years before committing to marriage. My father had been married once before to a woman named Mindy and had a daughter through this union whose name is Brianna. My mother had also been married once before but she had not one child, but two. Her first child, my sister, was born in December of 1969 and her name is Barbara. Between my sister and my mother’s other child, Gary, my mother and her previous husband had another baby girl but opted to put the child up for adoption. The reason behind this is as of this moment unknown to me but as soon as I find out, I will update you.

Back to the story at hand, I was put through a lot of hell even before I was born. Not only did my mother and father argue on a constant basis, physical encounters were more than usual and happened very frequently. One such encounter occurred during the fourth month of my mother’s pregnancy with me. A small argument escalated into a household fight with objects being thrown and fists flying. My mother (in all her drunkedness) thought that, instead of continuing on with the lavish display of hostility towards my father, she would end the entire tirade with a single movement. She reached for her 9mm handgun and pulled the trigger. She did not fire at or even towards where my father was standing, she did not shoot at either my brother or my sister. Hell, she didn’t even aim at anything on herself that would cause too much damage. That would have been to easy! Nope, my mother looked at my father, her two other children and then down at her feet. She took a stance after deciding that her left foot was an appropriate target, closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger!

Hello everyone!

Ok, so this will officially be the first blog I have ever made that is not linked into a different website. Hooray! But on a serious note, this is going to be my way of letting the world know what is going on with a random-no-name guy that lives a stressful Army life. You will learn all about me almsot all the way down to the deepest core of my being. Some of you will like me and some of may hate me for things that I have done or have been a part of, but this is blog is not meant to get people to like or not, this blog is meant to open the world's eyes to what goes on inside the mind and life of me Ron Lorenz. I hope that you will all enjoy taking part in the ups and downs of my life and the lives of those around me but most of all, just read, understand and enjoy what I have to tell you. In case of my demise, my wife Stacy will continue on with this blog (hopefully) so that everyone will know what happens and what happenED to me. Here is where it begins but not where it ends...