# 5 Steven Kendall Wilson

This is a picture of my brother Steve when he was five and in kindergarten.
I remember him at four when we had our pictures taken together at my grandparents home. But most of my memories go back to where we were both in school.
He really was afraid to start school. We lived out in the country and had to ride the school bus. On the first day of school in 1955 he started to cry on the way to the bus.
We had a large front yard, and Steve got about half way to the bus before starting to cry uncontrollably.
Since dad had already left for work, my mother had to doll out the punishment herself.
She brought out a belt and started whipping the crap out of my little brother. She beat him all the way to the bus. The next day, the very same thing happened. By the end of the week, he was more than happy to go to school.
Gee, school days bring back such fond memories.....

That makes me think of the time my parents came to watch me in a school play when I was in sixth grade. My teacher had picked me to sing a short song so I really felt special. On the way home that evening my dad told me that I was an awful singer! Thanks dad, for FUCKING ME UP!

Back to Steve. This story is about him.
I don't remember anything bad about that kid except that he was sweet and very shy. Although he and our cousin Steve Shelly set the back of the Glass Baptist Church (named after our great grandparents) on fire. No worries, it's still standing.
Another very bad thing that happened in the fall after Steve started school. One weekend we went to the local store (as we did every weekend) to buy food and whatever other supplies we needed. Back then you would buy food, fabric and dress patterns, chicken feed and Schlitz, all in the same place. It was like a micro Walmart. Anyhoo, dad bought Steve a paper box kite. Steve couldn't wait to get home and put it together and fly it. Dad was busy and said he would help put it together after work the next day. While dad was at work Steve was just too eager to wait, so he put it together himself. He was only six, so of course he screwed it up a bit. And it did cost a whole fucking ten cents. When dad got home and saw the kite, he grabbed it from Steve, wadded it up and tossed it in the wood stove where my mother had built a fire earlier to take the chill out of the air. There was a chill in the air in their home till the day Steve died...
I carefully placed a box kite (still in it's wrapper) in my brothers coffin just before it was closed, forty four years later.
He would catch Poison Ivy every summer. And of course mom and dad would get mad at him for being a boy and playing in the woods. He should have been hospitalized several times. His whole body would be swollen and oozing. My mother told me one day that he couldn't urinate because his penis was so swollen. He would be in sheer agony for a couple of weeks. They would cover him with Calamine lotion and he would lie in the bed crying in agony.
When we lived in the few shacks without running water, it was Steve's job to carry two, five gallon buckets of water at a time from the well. He was fourteen when they finally moved back to civilization.
We lived in a DRY county. No alcohol sold there. Steve started drinking by the time he was fifteen. Don't know where or how he got the liquor.
When he was sixteen he went back to Michigan and lived with our aunt for awhile. When he came back home in the fall, the town sheriff came out to the house and told our parents that Steve been breaking into vending machines. Steve denied it and swore it wasn't him. Our dad told Steve that was the kind of thing he expected from him. He told Steve that he was "worthless" and would "never amount anything" and told him he was going to end up in jail. The Sheriff suggested they sign for him to go to the military to avoid jail. They immediately did!
Hello Vietnam!
Since he was still seventeen and too young to kill,(need to be eighteen for that) the Army made him a cook.
Back then the Army had a "special" going on. Instead on staying there for twelve months, they would let you go back home after nine months, stay home for a month, and then return for six more months. What a deal! Steve took it. He went AWAL the day before time to go back and it took the Army several weeks to find him and send him back. The day he landed back in Natrang Vietnam, he went AWAL and didn't show up till time to go home. That earned him an "Undesirable" discharge".
He was drinking a LOT when he came back and doing any drug he could find. I've personally seen him swallow handfuls of speed and whatever. It scared me but he seemed to know what he was doing. I didn't drink or do drugs back then. Well I did smoke pot. Does that count? He couldn't live with mom and dad so he bounced around all over the place.
He taught himself to play the guitar very well and had a good voice. I know he made money as a street singer in the very early seventies. He looked and sounded just like Elton John and kids who were just starting to hear Elton John on the radio really did think Steve was him!
I was so wrapped up in my own messed up life that I couldn't think strait.
I know Steve went through much worse than I ever will know.
At Steve's funeral my dad cried and said he wished he had Steve's life to do over.
I wish things had been different and I could have been there for you. I love you Steve