7/12/08
So you want to know
Who I am?
I am…
But who are you?
Who are you really?
We both are so complex and we all differ.
But yet were the same.
We’ve all seen how curl the world could be.
I despise of this place humans call home.
Earth.
What is our main purpose in this world called Earth?
Are we supposed to live a routine life, which seems to never end. This is a cold world that starts wars for our own self being, thoughts, and life styles.
With my wide eyes I’ve seen this world do its worst; this world sickness me and at the same time saddens me too.
Last time I checked a home is a place of security, care, and the feeling of love.
In the end it opens its cold arms to wars, famine, pain, disease, lust, murder, jealous, vanity, and addictions.
This is no home.
This is
hell.
So before I answer who I am…
You must tell me.
Who are you?
I am Jack Adams. My story isn’t a story of happy singing flowers and dancing rabbits over a rainbow. This world was nothing I expected to be. I’ve been working on this biography for about a year, but never seemed to get my words right. I always tend to go back and redo it all again. I am going to try this time. I totally agree with anyone when they say that no one is perfect. Practice doesn’t make perfect either. I’m not a negative person; I am telling you the truth. I’ve watch the animal I’ve become over the years. I’ve lied to people more than I’ve actually told the truth. I’m not proud of what I’ve become. It’s not the real me, but take it or leave it because I’m not changing for no one.
A life of routine is something I’ve always tried to avoid; being a normal person always freaked me out. I don’t want to wake up and start over a patter again. We only live once so why don’t we actually live? It hard for people digest those thoughts for some reason…it took me a while too.
Life was never easy for me. I started life challenges at the beginning of my childhood...That will come much later though.
I was born in a small town in Hansel Germany. Thursday; April 28, 1864.
My mother; I herd was an amazing person. She had a good sense of humor and didn’t let anyone push her around. To add on she was an amazing singer, from god herself. She ran away from home to join the Broadway in Chicago when she was only sixteen. Soon it brought her to her father in London and started up her showbiz life again. It didn’t take long till she was a well known singer in all Europe.
I’ve never her sing before, so I am going by people's output.
My Father, now he was amazing. Sparking personality and big joker he was. He has some big talents too. He was a Magician, which started from community star to world known. But pulling rabbits out of top hats doesn’t make enough money, so his original job was the working area of Biology, other than studying trees and flowers he enjoyed to learn about the human anatomy and animal cells.
He met my mother when he was twenty three (she was twenty) and they got married six months later.
That year they had my sister Alice Anabella Adams.
Threw those times it was hard for my parent so Alice decide she was done with them. And moved out when she was fifteen and when my mom was pregnant with my brother.
A couple months later they had Allan Carsten Adams.
His middle name had a meaning. It stood for Follower of Christ.
This didn’t surprise me because my mother and father were both very strong Catholics and loved God very much. My sister just gave God the hand and went her way. She wanted to do things God didn’t allow.
My brother Allan favored mother the most. He just followed her around and did everything for her. When Allan was fourteen I was born.
It’s strange that my sister is about thirty years older than me, but it’s never bugged me since I hardly herd from her. Me and my Father, now that were a fun pair for a fact! He did decide to name me after him and his Father to carry on the “family tradition”. His name was Jackferd Wendle Author Luther Adams the second. This made me the third. So that’s what my name I hate it when people call me Jackferd because I see that more as my father’s name, so just call me Jack.
Anyways, we were best friends, my father and I. He taught me so much, about how life was full of adventures, and how the power of magic worked. I always felt special when I wore my father’s top hat and I did things that he did. It made me feel strong, like life had a meaning, and that’s the best feeling anyone could ever have.
Yes it was all together, just knitted up for the four of us, just so perfect.
Of course life has it curve balls and throws them hard when they please. I remember when I was just five, almost six years old. My father was getting ready for his magic show. His magic was real.
I know it.
There were no strings or illusions about it. It was real and everyone knew it, but being so good and so famous, their will always be someone standing in your shadow wanting to be better than you. There were many men that wanted my father’s skills and power, but never the less they did not. This would always brought problems to my father’s career.
So as my father set up, he came to me since I was in the backstage. He put a hand on my shoulder, leaned down and looked at me. His eyes so old and so loving made me always feel at home. He told me “Jack, you are my last son. I’ve done many things I am not so proud of. But having a family and watching them grow into a life; a real person is the most amazing thing in the world. And Jack, I want you to be you, don’t let anyone hold you down and tell you what to do. I believe in you and I know you’ll be hell of a man. Just like you old father.”
I always hated “the talk” before he went on show. We know his life was always in danger when he was on show. Because it was all real, he put his trust and his own life into his job. And I will always admire him for that. Maybe that’s what I love so much about my father. His love and motivation and trust in what he always did.
That made my father, my father.
We did our prayer and he went onto the stage. Who knew that those last words I’d here him say to me was “In Gods name, Amen.”
In the show my father wasn’t able to open the top to the water tank. He drowned in front of his family. He died in front of me…
The funeral was huge; it was like a town hero had died. It was a town hero that died.
Hundreds of people showed up to see my father’s memorial. They made his a statue in his name and stuck it right under the willow tree. My mother did not attend; she was morning at the house, drinking herself to sleep, wishing that everything would be ok. She didn’t wake up to reality until my brother told her to come. It was just the four of us after a couple hours later when everyone left.
Me, Allan, Alice, and Mom…
You could hear the angels crying above us. The light rain gave me Goosebumps. My mom blamed herself, probably still does. No amount of alcohol could hide his face in her mind. I couldn’t stop crying. My mom just got up and left.
She could handle it. Soon Allan left and Alice went with him.
There I was, just the two of us. It got dark so eventually I got up to leave. Every five steps I look back too see if he was there…He wasn’t there, no trace at all other than the soaked statue under the willow tree.
I could hear my mother cry all night.
You know when you’re not wanted. I wasn’t even in her mind by then. But course would you think of your kid if your long lover died?
I don’t think you would, honestly…
Allan went out to Alice house after their left the cemetery. So it was just me and mom.
Me and mom... You have no idea how weird that sounds to me.
It was night after night that I had to hear her morn. I chewed me up to the bone to the flesh. I need my mother too, but her door was always locked.
So she finally came out and went straight to the bar. She didn’t hesitate to even look down at me. She was gone, I was dead to her.
Now losing a family member is tragic thing that happens, but it’s a natural process that does and will happen. Being an out cast to your family is a totally different subject, and was a new feeling.
Close the curtains and start the story.
