I was born in March of 1980, in San Jose, California. I was my mother's only child, with my father many miles away. He may have been in the delivery room that special day, but when it was all over his place was else where. It was hard for me to understand why my dad didn't live with us. My mom made it very clear to me that my dad did love me, but was definitely going to live with his other family. This made me think of the construction of me. Was I an accident? Was I a strategic movement in the game of life, that had backfired resulting in the current situation? So many questions at a young age, but not well articulated.
I visited my second family most holidays and summers. It was my chance to bond with my siblings. I loved my older brother! In fact, I would follow him EVERYWHERE! If he would go in to the kitchen for water, I would be there grabbing a glass too. Going to the bathroom? I would stand out side and wait. I was like his light skinned shadow, with no chance of ditching me. This game of follow the leader wasn't always welcomed by my brother, but I think he knew I just really looked up to him. As his patience would run thin, he would often start showing off his athleticism to see just how far I would mimic. I knew I didn't stand a chance once he started walking on the top beam of a wooden fence or bust out a few back hand springs. This just increased my desire to be like him even more.
My younger sister was also around, but very independent. We would have an occasional wrestling match that she would win. I believe her success came from testing her technique in earlier matches with my brother. She tolerated me as much as she could, but would definitely get irritated with my ignorance to country life, as well as, my lack of pop culture knowledge. The music for the latest dances, movies, or TV shows I had no clue what was cool and what was not. I had no idea what it meant to have siblings. When I was in San Jose, I was an only child. If my mom was at work, I would be at the babysitters or home alone (depending on my age). I didn't have to be witty with come back jokes. I didn't have to be punctual to get in the bathroom first thing in the morning. I liked this style of living; lots of chaos and always someone to talk to or play with.
When I would spend a few weeks out of the summer in Tulare. I loved the first week or so, after that I would get home sick and want to return to the bay. Days while my brother & sister would be at summer school, I would spend long days with my grandmother. She would be smoking a bunch of cigarettes, screaming at contestants on game shows giving the wrong answers, and drinking cases of beers. I was too young to appreciate the life knowledge she would drop on my head, but the more and more she repeated it, the more it sunk in.
I am thankful growing up a Baker. Make no mistake my mother's side has made amazing contributions to my life, but today we are focusing one side of me. Growing up as a Baker taught me the importance of planning out your life. I received many stories of wrong choices and living with ones decisions. Thinking I was immune to similar fates, I didn't pay close attention to the struggle of those before me. All the prior knowledge has since been taken in and mulled over. I am thankful I have had to work for all my success. The appreciation for achievement cannot be measured. Remembering nights my dad would get home late from working the train yard, to tuck us in bed, makes me want to work even harder, so I can be home earlier enough to see my kids grow up!