Against All Odds: My Story (5 page)

Mom earned fifteen dollars a week, so she pledged to tithe $1.50 every week to the church. Reverend Kuester, our pastor, came to visit us occasionally, and he knew how Mom was struggling to make ends meet.

One day Pastor Kuester and his wife, Margaret, came for a visit and a time of prayer. As they were preparing to leave, Pastor Kuester handed my mother the pledge letter she had signed. “Sister Norris, the Lord knows your heart,” the preacher said. “He doesn't need your money. Your love and devotion to the Lord and your sons are all that God wants from you.” Mom thanked the pastor for his kindness and compassion, but she continued to give 10 percent of her income to the church, and God always provided for us, in spite of Dad.

In March 1951, Mom became pregnant, and Dad took off again. “You'll see,” Mom told Wieland and me. “Things will be better when he comes back.” Although I was only eleven years old, I knew better. Nothing would change in our home as long as Dad continued to drink—and he showed no signs of wanting to stop. He would come home drunk, wake us up in the middle of the night, and make us walk to the liquor store to buy a bottle of Thunderbird wine for him.

I guess you could call Dad a drifter because he certainly drifted in and out of our lives. Drifter is describing him kindly; an alcoholic gypsy would be more accurate. The attic in our house became Dad's trash can. One day I looked up in the attic, and I never forgot the sight. Literally hundreds of empty wine bottles were strewn across the attic floor. Each bottle symbolized another part of our lives that my father had thrown away.

One night when Dad came home drunk, I lay in bed and prayed to God to change Dad and have him stop drinking or help us get out of this awful situation. Mom was not able to work because she was pregnant, so we had to go on public assistance—welfare—to survive. Our only other income came from Dad's thirty-two-dollar-a-month government disability check, barely enough to cover the rent.

Mom accepted things as they were and was determined to make the best of the situation. Neither Wieland nor I had a lot of clothes or toys, but Mom always made sure we had enough to eat.

My brother Aaron was born in November 1951. When he was only ten months old, Mom went back to work to support our family. She got a job at Northrop Aircraft as a silkscreen printer, where she worked the three-to-midnight swing shift. Since we couldn't afford a babysitter, I had to rush home from school every day to babysit Wieland and Aaron, who would start crying the moment Mom left for work. The first few nights that Mom worked the late shift I could hardly wait for her to get home.

I soon discovered that if I put Aaron on my lap and rocked him in the rocking chair, he would settle down. Many times I'd rock him so long that both of us would fall asleep, and Mom would find the two of us still in the rocking chair when she got home at about twelve-thirty. I cannot count how many hours I spent in that rocking chair, holding my baby brother, but it didn't bother me. Mom had instilled in me the notion of assuming responsibility, so it seemed the natural thing to do.

One night Dad had a bad car accident and tragically killed an elderly woman. He was arrested, convicted of drunk driving and vehicular manslaughter, and sentenced to a road camp for six months. Mom took me out to see him on weekends. He looked great and seemed to be in good health. The hard work apparently agreed with him, and we prayed that when he got released, after not having a drink for six months and realizing what he had done, he would stay off liquor for good. But our hopes were quickly dashed. The moment Dad got out, he went straight to the bar.

When I turned fifteen, we moved to a slightly better house in Torrance, California, a suburb of Los Angeles. Unfortunately, Dad was becoming increasingly aggressive at home and abusive toward Mom.

One night I heard my parents arguing in their bedroom. I heard a thud, my mom screaming, and then I heard her crying. I grabbed a hammer and ran into the bedroom. “If you ever touch her again, you're going to have to deal with me!” I screamed at my dad, brandishing the hammer menacingly over his head. Luckily he was too drunk to take my threat too seriously.

The next day Mom and I talked about what we should do. We agreed that it was pointless to continue living this way with Dad, never knowing how or when he'd come home or how much more violent he might become. While Dad was away one night, Mom, Wieland, Aaron, and I packed up everything we could and moved in with my aunt and uncle. My parents divorced in 1956. I was sixteen, Wieland twelve, and Aaron four.

A year later Mom met George Knight, a foreman at Northrop, where she worked. George was not only a gentleman, he was a
gentle
man who genuinely cared for her. One night Mom said, “Carlos, I need to talk with you.”

“Sure, Mom. What's up?”

“George has asked me to marry him, but before I give him an answer, I want to know how you feel about it.”

I hugged my mother tightly and said, “Mom, I think George would be a fine husband and stepfather.” And I truly meant it. Mom married George soon after that conversation, and after the initial awkward stage, my stepfather became one of the best things that ever happened to me.

CHAPTER 5

LIFE CHOICES

W
ith George as part of our family, for the first time in my life, I had a caring and responsible father who gave me the opportunity to be a real teenager. One night while Mom and I were talking, I said, “Mom, I remember the first time I prayed to God to get us out of that situation with Dad. I was twelve years old and always wondered if God was listening.”

Mom said, “God always listens, Carlos. Prayer opens the way for God to work, and God does hear. His answer came at the time he knew was best for us.”

One afternoon when I came home from school, I found my dad in the living room of our house. I heard my mother crying in her bedroom. My father said he was there “to take care of George.”

“No, you're not,” I said.

“How do you plan to stop me?” he said, glaring at me.

I had been afraid of my father all of my life, but I was not going to let him hurt George, who was a gentle man and no match for him.

I motioned toward the door, and my father and I went out to the front yard and squared off to fight. I don't know whether my father saw fear or determination in my eyes, but after a long moment I saw his countenance change. “I'm not going to fight with you,” he said, still with a surly voice but with more a sigh of resignation. He got into his car and drove off.

I saw him only one more time after that incident, shortly after I'd gotten out of the service in 1962. Wieland and I had driven back to Wilson to visit Granny, and we pulled up to the beer joint where we knew our dad could be found. We honked the horn, and Dad sauntered out of the bar. He walked out, waved to us, and said hello. I told him that I was married and that Dianne was expecting our first baby.

“Great,” he said flatly. Then he turned on his heel and walked back into the bar. That was it. No hugs, no words of affirmation, no questions as to what Wieland and I were doing with our lives. Nothing. He simply waved and went back to his beer. Little did I know, that would be the last time I'd ever see my dad alive.

That day in the living room, however, when I faced up to my father, I learned another important lesson about fear. True courage is not the absence of fear but the control of it.

With George's encouragement, I became interested in sports. I played football and did gymnastics. I wasn't a good athlete, and I certainly didn't excel at any sport, but I enjoyed the competition. Similarly, schoolwork didn't come easily to me, but I worked hard and wound up making decent grades.

I discovered a new pride in myself, too, and began to blossom, thanks to our family unity and a strong paternal influence. Mom was able to relax a bit, now that George was part of our family. She felt that she and George were working together rather than pulling in different directions. As for me, I finally had a father figure who cared about me and was a good role model.

When I was seventeen I wanted to join the Navy with my cousin Jerry and best friend Bill, but because I was underage, I needed a parental signature to enlist. Mom wouldn't hear of it. “No, you must finish high school first,” she insisted. “By then, you'll be eighteen years old and you can decide what you want to do after you graduate.”

We moved from an apartment in Gardena to a house in Torrance, so I transferred from Gardena High to North Torrance High in the middle of my junior year. I was still quite shy, however, and avoided talking in front of a class. I was certain that I would say the wrong thing and my face would turn red, as it always did when I was embarrassed.

While still in my junior year, I met a girl named Dianne Holechek, a bubbly, outgoing, brown-eyed beauty and one of the prettiest and most popular girls in school. I saw Dianne often on our school campus, but I was too shy to talk to her. Then one evening I was stocking shelves at Boys' Market, a grocery store where I worked as a box boy, and Dianne came into the store. I pretended to pay no attention, but Dianne was on a mission. She walked straight down the aisle where I was working and asked me where to find a particular grocery item. We struck up a conversation, and I was smitten with her instantly. Eventually, over the next few weeks, I worked up the courage to ask her out. From then on we were a couple. We went steady all through my last year of high school.

I continued working after school as a box boy in the market, opening boxes of canned goods and produce, stocking shelves, and hoping to save up enough money to buy a car. Finally I had enough to buy an old used Dodge that looked like an overgrown beetle. I parked about a block from school because it was so ugly. My stepfather realized how ashamed I was to drive that old car to school, so he gave me his nice Ford to drive, and he drove my old Dodge to work. He was an incredible man.

After graduation my main goal in life was to join the police department. I liked the idea of “good guys” versus “bad guys,” and the excitement and action of police work appealed to my sense of adventure. I explored the possibilities and discovered that if I enlisted in the Air Force, I could get into the Military Police and gain some experience in police work.

I've often wondered what direction my life might have taken had I joined the Navy before completing high school. My friend Bill went on to serve thirty years in the Navy; my cousin Jerry served and then became a police officer. I might have done something similar. I admit, I was extremely disappointed that Mom wouldn't sign the Naval permission form, but I'm deeply grateful today. Had I gone down that road, I would have missed so many wonderful opportunities. More importantly, I might have missed one of the most important spiritual moments of my life. The world-famous evangelist Billy Graham was coming to town for a crusade, and Mom wanted our family to attend.

The crusade was held at the LA Sports Arena, and the place was packed an hour before the service was scheduled to begin. People had come from all parts of Southern California to hear the straight-shooting preacher.

I was excited to go to the crusade, simply because it was such an enormous event, but I really didn't expect to experience anything of significance in my life as a result. After all, I had committed my life to Christ and had been baptized as a boy when our family attended Calvary Baptist Church. But this was different. This was pure power.

I listened to the beautiful music as Cliff Barrows led the mass choir, and the deep voice of soloist George Beverly Shea, and finally Billy Graham's powerful words; I felt a tugging on my heartstrings. The famous preacher explained that Christ had died on the cross in my place, that it really should have been me being punished by death for my sins. But Christ took my place. Now, by believing in him and believing that Jesus died and rose again from the dead, I could be forgiven of my sins, and I could be saved forever.