Memoirs of a Flower Child by George S Geisinger (best novels ever txt) 📖

my doctor, I was told that tuberculosis is very contagious, and is easily passed from person to person in environments were a lot of people share a relatively small, mutual space. Since I was confined to state hospital wards frequently in my youth, it's quite possible I contracted the disease easily enough, was treated just as easily, and my immune system adjusted easily enough to subdue the threat against my life.
I had occasion to study some of the historical writings about the famous young author, Ann Frank, from the days of the Nazi concentration camps of WWII. The idea that she had been executed in a gas chamber or some such thing, is entirely a false assumption. In fact, Ann Frank contracted tuberculosis after she had gone to the camp, and died from a lack of medical treatment for the disease. This does not detract at all from her heroic contribution to classic literature, or minimize her sacrifice as a human being in such dire straights at such a tender age. It is only an observation that that age-old disease can still be fatal if left untreated, even in modern times.
All told, I personally feel a lot healthier in general, and a lot healthier in regards to my breathing specifically, than I ever expected I would, after all the abuse I did to my lungs over the years.
I am very grateful to my higher power to be given the opportunity to have so much health and recovery from so many abuses that I chose to heap on my own body by my own hand, when I was such a foolish youth.

Bicycle
Chapter 2

How young was I when my Uncle's old bicycle became mine?
I remember so easily some things about my life.
That bicycle was a classic, a fat-tire Schwinn, heavy as lead, very tall to mount, for a kid, and gave all takers a significant workout.
Nothing like that bike for transportation though, up until the time I could drive a car.
I remember Bond Hill, Cincinnati, where my mom's folks lived. There was a well established old school there, with plenty of cement walkways, and plenty of parking lots to ride on, right across the street from grandma's house, but I'll be switched if I can remember the name of the place.

I remember we lived in West Elizabeth beside the big river south of Pittsburgh, when I had the bike to ride some place different from the big school yard in Bond Hill. Me and my buddy got yelled at a lot going through the old saw mill by the church. They didn't want us kids back there because they thought it was too dangerous for us.
All of West Elizabeth wasn't hardly any town at all. I don't remember anything being there, except for the sawmill and that church.
There were two sisters our age who came to Dad's church with their folks. I thought much later in life that they were recording artists on the radio, or something. At least the names were familiar.
Their parents used to bring the girls to play with us outside on the old jungle-gym. I don't remember much more about those girls.
Billy's dad took the two of us down to the boat races on the river once. They both ranted about the boat races. I didn't want to go to the river because it frightened me. But I did go to the races with them once, scared or not.

Next, we moved out into dairy country to a town called Scottdale, south-east of Pittsburgh. It was different than the river town.
There were hills all around. Some were quite steep. I never really developed much interest in that town, except for riding past the one girl's house to see if she was outside. She usually waved.
I'd become a teenager all of a sudden.
Annie sang with a rumbling voice from deep in her flat chest. Sis was her sidekick. Sometimes they'd wave at me when I rode by on my bike. Sis wasn't anybody, except you never saw Annie without her.
Annie and me had had our chance in the spotlight back when. She was more like a second tenor than an alto. I was a boy soprano. I hated all that. Our chorus did one of those way-too-bitter-sweet, sunshine-up-the-nose, la-Dee-duh musicals from the movies. Annie and me did the duet.
There I was on stage with her in front of that whole town, singing. I stood there with my hands behind my back. That girl wasn't going to get a chance to be all cute and everything, and take hold of my hand in the middle of that stupid song or anything. I kept my hands out of reach, and that was that. I wasn't taking any chances.
Standing up there with Annie was really embarrassing. I thought about her in my sleep. Seemed like everybody knew it, too. I wished I was dead. We got through it, though. One duet, right down the pipe, perfect.
I'd ride my bike up and down the street past her dad's house so much I just knew I was way too obvious. Annie and Sis would come outside and sit on the front stoop again, and she'd wave at me again. I never did get up the nerve to simply stop and chat with her. She was friendly and all. I just didn't want to believe it. Don't call me shy. I just didn't feel right. Besides, there was this guy threatening me about her all the time...
I knew Annie from the time I was 11 to the time I was 13. I've been thinking about her, like so many other girls, for the better part of a lifetime. How do they do that, anyway?

We left town after my dad flipped out. It was such a relief. Dad up and left town. He didn't even sneak away. He said goodbye, and off he went. We left pretty soon after that ourselves – off to Grandma's new place in Maryland. Had to. Dad took all the money. There weren't anymore beatings, though.

We ended up in Maryland with Grandma. Grandpa had died a few years earlier, and Grandma moved to where my aunt was. They had a new house built there, and we all ended up there when dad split.
The new house in Maryland became home for us, and it was the family homestead for many years.

I was new in town and found five girls sitting on the back porch of a house near the corner.
I figured, what the hell. You only live once, right? What were they gonna do, kill me? So, like an idiot, I rode my bike right up to all those girls and proceeded to sling a line of BS at 'em a mile long. I couldn't stop talking.
I was all nervous energy.
Soon enough, one of them came up with some excuse why it was they needed to go in right away, and they all got up and went inside. I just sat there on my bike and watched 'em all go, knowing I was a fool. I told myself I didn't care.
Soon enough, there was the school bus to wait for every morning, but none of those girls were friendly. Not even a little bit. I told myself it must have been their problem.

I rode down by the motel, where I eventually worked as a bellhop, the apartment complex had an above-ground pool, in those days. When I found the place the first time, there was a girl about my age in the pool. Once again, I was all bold & brazen & whatnot. We spent hours of days talking, over the side-wall of the pool. She seemed to enjoy herself, I guess.
There was a song on the radio I'd sing to her, like the flirt I was. I stared at her new bosom and into her eyes, trying to make my eyes more blue than they always are. She smiled a lot.
“Hey there Little Red Riding-hood. You sure are looking good. You're everything that a big bad wolf would want. Ow! I mean bah...” She'd stifle a giggle. We were really only kids. But it was a lot of fun.
One day she said her dad got a new job. She was moving away. I never saw her again. I can't even remember her name.

I met Peaches in my church youth group, MYF, one evening. All my closest friends from school went there. There was some new girl with long straight red hair and a smile right back at me! We were all-of-about 13 or 14 years old; something like that. She smiled at me. I thought I'd fall down on my chin, if I wasn't careful! I was all tripped up.
But I was OK. No problem. I got along just fine. I'd just been notified directly enough, that the new girl in town liked me. She was sweet as peaches. I'd just never seen a real live, pretty girl, come on to me like that before. Right there inside my own church group, nonetheless. Well, I thought I'd only had bad luck all my life. It seemed like I never had any good luck at all. Yet, there she was. I didn't have a clue. Heck! She had to be staring at me to never miss my glance that often. Ahhh? OK.
This was my first time with that sort of girl. The idea kind of blew me away. She was blue-eyed, natural born red-headed, cute. We were only kids, but I forgot about the world when I met her. I call her Peaches. She was really sweet.
Anyway, her daddy was nice whenever it was I got to know him, and her mom was real nice, too. He was a military man. Peaches had one older sister. They were all real nice folks.
We used to ride around on my bicycle together, all over the army base where they lived. She rode side-saddle on the crossbar of my old Schwinn. I never noticed the whole world like that before. Not till I met Peaches. I guess they call that puppy love. I don't know what else it would be.
We were every boy and girl who ever lived, or ever will, I guess you could say.
She and her family had just come back Stateside, from Germany. Peaches daddy was a major in the army. He'd been reassigned after they'd been across the pond for a while. She'd picked up a little German while she was away. She taught me some. She could've taught me anything, if she'd only known. I hung on her every word.
Of course, there was “Ich liebe dich,” she loved me.
“Du hast himmel blau augen,” she said.
Huh? I asked her.
“You have Heaven blue eyes.” It was a self-suspending moment. The whole German language still keeps me going about