Breaking The Chain

BREAKING THE CHAIN

iUniverse, Inc.

Chapter One

On my mother's seventeenth birthday, she and Larry Owen Azlin eloped and went to Las Vegas against her parent's wishes. She remembers wearing a green, velvet dress and that he wore a pin-striped suit with shiny, black Stacy Adam shoes. He was six foot; she was just a few inches above five. His dark complexion, wavy, black hair, and green eyes contrasted with my mother's fair complexion and blonde hair. Petite in stature, she weighed just ninety pounds the day they married.

In telling me about their early days, my mother proudly mentioned that all the girls in high school flocked around Larry. My mother adored him and stated, "I felt as though I was marrying a teen idol." My mother came from a family that struggled financially; my father's middle-class family did well. After they were married, he drove her to the home of his sister, who also had recently married. Daddy left my mother there for a week while he partied with his friends. She also told me that they didn't consummate their marriage until they had been married for seven days. A virgin at the time, she was on edge about the big night. Their relationship was unconventional from the very beginning and continued for years to come.

Her wedding day should have been a sign to Mama that she had married a man who would show her a lifestyle that could only be explained as "different" with a plot sordid enough to be on the big screen. Mama explained to me that she had been in love with Daddy since she was a small child and had often admired him during her years in junior high and high school. She felt a boy like him would not have anything to do with a girl from the other side of the tracks. At one time, her family lived in a tent with dirt floors. Her family picked fruit to sell and lived on the profits.

Popular and strikingly handsome, Daddy was actually shy and a loner. When he chose Mama, she felt as though she had just been saved by Prince Charming. She told me a story of one of their dates when he reminded her, "Bring your scooter pie." So she brought a scooter pie cupcake on their date. She told me how he laughed all night at her while she was embarrassed by his forward way of approaching her for more than a cupcake. She was a virgin and remained that way until she married him. At least, Daddy knew she was a good girl and saw the qualities in her that she may not even have seen in herself.

My mother was a loyal wife. The townspeople called her "foolishly in love" because she never gave up on Daddy no matter how much he put her through. She stood by his side regardless of the personal cost that could never be measured; she worshiped him until the day she died. He put her through things that most normal women could not handle, yet she stayed and endured the madness for twenty years. She would go toe-to-toe with any person to defend her husband's reputation

She was certainly not a typical mother and was known for carrying a pistol in her purse just in case things went sour anywhere she went. I remember the day she entered a convenient store to buy some snacks for me and my sister. She blatantly laid her pistol on the counter as she attempted to find her wallet that she thought she had misplaced. The checker's eyes widened and my mother politely stated, "Oops, that was not meant for you." We left the store happy. Mom had no real reaction, as this was a mild infraction compared to the life to which she was accustomed.

People in my parents' crowd often remarked, "There is no Larry without Paulette, and there is no Paulette without Larry." Even with a separation in place, no one dared to disrespect either one of them as an unspoken bond remained. When their love was good, it was really good; but when it was bad, it was horrible. When I turned seventeen, the age Mama was when she married Daddy, she said, "Honey, if you fall in love and it don't come easy, and your heart is in pain more often than not, get out and fast." My mother knew she would never shake the hold Daddy had on her, and she really had no identity without him.

If my mother loved someone, it was a love she would die for. But if she no longer cared for a person, she wasn't afraid to let it be known publicly to the person's face and to the point. Mama was a beautiful woman with long, blonde hair, a perfect tiny body, and green, catlike eyes. Her smile melted hearts and her wit and humor made the hardest of the hardest laugh till they begged her to stop as she was making their tough guy image seem weak. She always pumped Daddy up as a man who had the potential to conquer the world. Even when he was shunned by society and classified as a junkie, she was his biggest and most loyal fan who never gave up hope. I believe she is the main reason others could recognize his talents since she was known for telling detailed stories about the perils of his life and the subculture we lived in. I don't remember that she ever belittled my daddy. Somehow, she always found his strengths. Even in the midst of the storms of our lives, Mama always had Daddy's back.

Mama had her own crutches and vices. These allowed her to manage the pain of living with the man she was desperately in love with but who did not have the ability to give her the life she absolutely deserved. To her, he was an incomparable legend. Her legend was alcohol. Daily, she drowned her sorrows in the bottle, yet many days the bottle let her down. A few times, we thought the trauma and stress caused her to lose her mind for good. Still, she always mustered up the energy to keep living. This strength came from the place in her heart that she saved for her girls. We were what she lived for, and she would die protecting us. Literally, she did just that. She died a true hero, and for that I owe her everything. Thanks, Mama, for loving me and Melinda so much that you were willing to protect us against anything. You had no fear; I respect you for that.

Chapter Two

I was born in 1967. That year, the war in Vietnam had escalated and required more troops. Most of Daddy's friends were drafted and jerked away from the comforts of their home to fight a war many did not believe in.

Daddy did not believe in fighting for a government he considered to be a bully that focused only on what it could get out of the oppressed and disadvantaged due to America's resources and man power. He stated his philosophy was that of a socialist—one who gave everyone the same amount of playing ground and left little room for the haves and the have-nots. From his viewpoint, soldiers were "yes" men who would do anything their superiors commanded even if it meant going against their beliefs and morals. He wanted no part in that.

Despite his personal feelings and a lack of faith in the government, Daddy was called to be screened for the draft. Knowing there was a high probability that he would be drafted at some point, Daddy concocted a plan to escape the draft. He took advantage of his pretty boy features to trick the government. He carefully put on eye shadow and lipstick, teased his Italian curls, and borrowed one of Mama's purses. All dolled up, he headed to the government post to be screened. He swayed his pretty little self into the line and spoke in a feminine style when asked about being a soldier. While the officials never asked him about his sexual preference, they denied him the right to fight for our country. His outlandish plan worked, surprising those who thought he would not achieve his ultimate goal of escaping the draft. He left the government post laughing out loud. He felt a certain pride in knowing that he escaped the possibility of death with his well thought-out plan. This was the beginning of his quest to defy all societal rules; he did it, no war for him!

With the threat of the draft behind, Mom and Daddy frequented bars on the weekends and took me with them. I remember seeing fights that included weapons. This seemed to be a common pastime for the people who ran in Daddy's crowd. The toughest men were the most popular, so Daddy was right up there with the best of the best.

I had been told the story about this night in my early teens and it was one of the only secrets Daddy kept from me as he states he did not want me to think of him as a "monster".

The night was planned. Mama wore her prettiest miniskirt, and Daddy's best friend Benny decided to go to the bar with my parents. The norm for this crowd was to take pills called "reds" and drink all night long. After a handful of reds were passed around in the bar, a fight broke out between Benny and his brother, Calvin. When Calvin broke a beer bottle and was about to cut his brother, Daddy attempted to get in the middle to stop it. Both brothers turned on Daddy and pushed him to the ground into a corner and beat him. When one of the brothers lunged at Daddy with the broken bottle, my daddy pulled a gun out of his boot, closed his eyes, and began shooting.

Three people were shot as my mother and I hid under a bar table. I was only one year old. Daddy's best friend was killed, Calvin was wounded, and Calvin's wife had been shot in the nose. Benny, the man who Daddy was so close to that he called him "brother," was lying on his belly, wearing Daddy's cowboy boots—dead.

When Daddy was arrested, the press had an incredible story. Mom rallied friends and family to pitch in for an attorney as Daddy was looking at a possible life sentence. After a couple of weeks in jail, he was bailed out, but he was not the same. His expression proved that the event broke him. Living with the fact that he killed his best friend broke his soul and changed our lives forever. When he was acquitted of the shootings due to self-defense, he began to party harder than he had in the past.

His friend's death stayed with him. I remember a time when I was in my twenties when Daddy woke up screaming, waking me up in the middle of the night. I ran to his room and saw him sitting straight up and sweating with a terrified look on his face. I asked, "Daddy, what is wrong?"

He simply replied, "The brothers are haunting me again." He experienced flashbacks about that dreadful night. His conscience did not allow him to heal from the wounds caused by taking his best friend's life. Even after twenty years, he was tortured by that night.

During this time, law enforcement consistently harassed Daddy as they knew he was part of a smart crowd that committed many crimes; however, the police were determined to bring them down. Daddy had several friends who committed burglaries. One day, the newspaper headline read: "Burglary chain wreaking havoc and fear in rural Fresno County." The offenders often came to our home to count the profits from their recent burglaries. I remember seeing jewelry boxes and wrapped Christmas packages that had been stolen from residents' homes during the Christmas season. Their "take" also included interesting rare coins and medals. I was so small, yet the homeboys allowed me to sift through the merchandise for fun. They always gave me the costume jewelry for my own little collection that I had been acquiring. Looking back, I realize it was cruel and dysfunctional for a family to do this as an ordinary evening event. But to us, it was normal and a way of life.

I recall a time when Mama became distraught and her guilt surfaced. She opened a jewelry box and came across the teeth of a child that a mother had saved throughout the years. Mama also found war medals, apparently belonging to a family member, alongside the teeth. She thought about our family and how we would feel if we were robbed as this family had been. Ironically, I had just lost my first tooth and Mama had saved mine as a keepsake.

To this day, I only wear my wedding ring and a mother's ring my husband purchased as a gift due to my past experiences. Having access to so much jewelry through the years, I find jewelry to be a memory I choose to forget. My husband laughs and states, "At least you don't spend all our money on diamonds and gold." He knows any jewelry as a gift would not bring me happiness, and he respects my feelings.

The police knew Daddy associated with and knew most of the criminals in town. Therefore, they were constantly on his tracks, seeking any opportunity to bring him in for questioning. One night, he was pulled over. This was the opportune time for the detectives to haul him in for questioning. The police tended to use scare tactics in the questioning process. They may offer something similar to: "If you cooperate, the state will make you a deal." The authorities questioned Daddy for hours, and he always replied, "Loose lips sink ships." On this particular night, his lips were not talking.

The detectives were desperate and offered Daddy a deal. "Okay, Larry, is there anything we can get you to make you more comfortable so we can get more information?"

Daddy replied, "Well, I could use a cigarette, preferably a non-filter Camel." The detectives obliged and sent a rookie to the corner store to buy a pack.

Daddy smoked a few cigarettes and made small talk. Then the detective asked, "Is there anything else, Mr. Azlin, we can do to assist with your comfort while you talk to us?"

Daddy answered, "Well, I haven't eaten all day. A Big Mac, fries, and a vanilla shake would really help me with this thing you're asking me to do." The detective sent the rookie to McDonald's. Cuffed to a chair and detained, Daddy was amazed they were doing all this. Daddy took a significant amount of time to eat his meal, watching the detectives becoming more and more frustrated with him. After sipping the last of his vanilla shake, he stated, "Um, I suddenly lost my memory officers."

Later, Daddy stated five detectives beat him severely and that no one intervened to stop the beating. He also stated his hands were cuffed behind his back; he had never felt more vulnerable and thought he may be in need of hospitalization. Daddy was released the following morning for lack of evidence. He had a missing tooth, two black eyes, bruises all over his body, plus goose egg sized lumps all over his head. He later laughed and explained to us, "The beating was worth the milkshake, best one I ever drank."

Chapter Three

When Daddy promised to "get straight" and take care of us, my Daddy's parents bought us a home. He did well for about six months, but the same wild crowd began to frequent our home. It not only became a place to crash, but Mama cooked for all the goons when the sun went down.

When I was five, I woke up one night to screaming from several people, including Mom and Daddy. They slapped a man in the face and kept yelling, "Wake up! Wake up!" Mom got several big buckets of water and ice, which were thrown on the in our tub. Next, someone turned on the shower and continued slapping the man furiously.

I was terrified and asked Mom what was happening. She said, "Oh honey, I'm sorry, go to the other room, and don't watch. He drank too much wine." My little mind knew it was much worse than wine.

Later, many more men, including Daddy, were put in that tub. Heroin had hit the streets and raged through my parents' crowd. The only one who never used this evil black stuff was Mama; Daddy would have killed anyone who gave it to her. Mom begged and pleaded with Daddy to not get caught up in this new craze of "black tar, chasing the dragon."

Once, before Daddy was truly addicted, Mom recorded herself arguing with Daddy about his dabbling in drugs. In the recording Mom said, "Larry, please don't do this, you'll be so addicted you won't be able to quit." She played this back to him several years later as he sat on their bed; they both cried as Daddy apologized for not listening to her.

At that point in their lives, they both knew it was too late. The money was gone quickly. The house payment, electric bill, and groceries were due. It was also one week before Christmas. Somehow Daddy made sure we had a tree and that I had several nice toys, but Daddy had a plan. He went under our house with a soda bottle full of gas and lit the rag leading to it. After running swiftly to the car where Mom and I waited, he said, Don't look back."

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from BREAKING THE CHAIN by Shirley Anne McMurray Melinda Leigh Alkire Copyright © 2012 by Shirley Anne McMurray and Melinda Leigh Alkire. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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