Life Begins (2 page)

Preface

I want to start off by saying that I object to
the writing of this book. While I see the purpose of looking at my
past to see where I have come from in hopes of realizing where I
may be going in the future, I am only eighteen. I do not know what
I want in life.

I also object to the fact that I am not the
best person to write my autobiography. I have a tendency to lie
about myself and to myself. To counter this natural tendency, I
will write my story and will have those closest to me filling in
the gaps. The truth will lie somewhere in between. Their version
will appear in a different font.

I also want to say that I am only completing
this assignment because I feel that it is essential to leave a
written record of myself and my time here on earth. It is a purely
vain and egotistical reason and has nothing to do with my teacher's
intent of the assignment.

Sincerely,

Jack Gynapsy

Chapter One

I Am Born

I came into this world in the usual manner.
The first thing I remember upon leaving my mother's womb was a
bright white light and a smell that I would later recognize as that
hospital smell. How odd that we should come into this world in much
the same manner that we should leave it? I only know this because I
have been born and died many times. My eyes have seen the greatest
horrors mankind has ever inflicted upon itself. I have witnessed
murder, genocide, and plagues. I have also seen glory beyond what
the human mind or eye could comprehend.

So here I was being brought into this world
again. But before my eyes could fully focus on my new surroundings,
I was taken by a pair of cold hands and cleaned off. I was then
given to the woman that birthed me. She looked nice enough. It's
always hard to tell. She had just spent nine hours in labor. She
didn't look her greatest. My father seemed to love her. I figured
that as long as I had two parents who were in love I would be
fine.

Now, if you believe any of that story, I have
some land in Florida that I would like to sell you. It's wonderful
beach front property. But the truth about my birth is that I was a
virgin birth.

In fact, I come from a long line of virgins.
Both of my parents were virgin births just like their parents
before them. My great-grandparents were born the usual way. I guess
I didn't know them enough to care whether or not they ever had sex.
The thought of my parents and grandparents having sex makes me
sick.

It's not that I don't want them to love each
other. I mean, there is love. And then there is sweet, sweet
lovin'. It's just disgusting and immoral. It's one thing for me to
have those feelings for somebody else. But for my parents to have
feelings like that?!

So I will stick by the fact that I was a
virgin birth. Actually, I am kind of repulsed by the idea that I
came out of my mother's body.

I was delivered by a stork. No, I don't like
that idea either. I was created out of the dirt like Adam. I later
had plastic surgery to give myself a belly button. I had to make it
look like there was nothing out of the ordinary about my birth, or
non-birth in this case.

The truth is that I don't remember my birth.
This is probably God's greatest gift to mankind. Women forget the
pain of childbirth. The child doesn't remember being born. And the
man got to have sex (except my parents and
grandparents).

I'm hoping that I wasn't breast fed. That
would be kind of disgusting, too. Actually, it would be very
disgusting. I was bottle fed. I've only ever had baby formula or
cow's milk. Human milk is not for drinking. That is why you never
see ads for it.

And that is what I remember about my birth.
You could ask my mother about it, but all she remembers is that I
made her miss her soaps that day. It's nice to know that I was a
special event. I can't really blame her, though. I don't even
consider my birthday to be my real birth. My true birth came about
five months later when Christine Parnelle Robinson was
born.

I don't remember that event either. So here is
Christine with her own birth story.

~~~

I am writing things here because
Jack has promised me that he would not alter what I would write. No
matter how long we have known each other and loved each other,
there are still a great many secrets that we have not shared with
each other. I probably hold more than he does. He is only guilty of
holding his heart close to him. The secrets of his heart are easier
to reveal when I get him alone. And his secrets are beautiful. Mine
are all dirty, little secrets that I usually found out as I was
taking care of my mother as she was recovering from a drinking
binge.

My parents never got along. My
father was a handsome and successful man. He was a playboy and
could have any woman that he wanted. My mother was attracted to
him. She was a beautiful woman. She was sweet and funny. She may
not have been the smartest woman, but she was pure and honest. She
had the misfortune of meeting my father at a point in his life when
he decided that to be truly successful he needed to settle down and
get married.

I am guessing that this had
something to do with Jack's dad. He and my father were the greatest
of friends. They were nothing alike, but they were the best of
friends. I think Jack's dad was always a curiosity to my father. I
don't think my father ever understood him or what made him tick. He
was successful, smart, and could have anything that he wanted.
These are all qualities that my father admires. He possesses most
of these.

What separates the two men is that
Jack's father had a kindness and moral authority that guided every
decision he made. My father is guided by a selfish desire to be the
best. If he wants something, he gets it by any means necessary.
Jack's father was motivated by the philosophy that he was put on
this earth to help other people.

I am guessing that my father
wanted to marry my mother because Jack's parents had gotten
married. My father saw how happy Jack's mom made his father. My
father wanted the same kind of happiness. And that is where my
mother stepped into the picture.

She had the misfortune of being
near him as he was trying to possess something that was beyond his
reach. My father played the part of the love of her life. He fed
her all of the lines and did everything that he usually did when he
was trying to take over a business. He left her weak and
defenseless, and then came in for the kill. With the demolition
complete, he consumed what was left.

My mother didn't have to wait long
for the demolition to take place. While they were on their
honeymoon, my father slept with one of the maids. I am not sure on
the exact details. My mom was on several anti-depressants at the
time and had a few drinks when she told me that story. What I
understood her to say was that the honeymoon had started off
romantically. They had sex for the first time that night. It was
her first time ever. It was everything that she had always dreamed
of. He was soft, sweet, and thought only of her.

Afterward, he went out for a
cigarette. An hour later, my mom went looking for him. She found
him down the hallway on top of one of the maids in the closet. She
ran back to her room crying.

My father did go to see about her,
once he had finished his business with the maid. And that is when
he consumed what was left of my mother. He told her that if she
left him, nobody else would take her. She was damaged goods. What
would people say about her getting divorced so soon after getting
married? What would her family think about her?

And that was how my parent's
marriage was. I wish I could say that there were bright spots, but
I doubt that there were any. I can not even say that my birth was a
joyous occasion.

I think that my mother wanted me.
She had been pregnant once before. It was two years after they had
gotten married. She was supposed to be on the pill, but she wanted
a child. I think it was more out of loneliness than anything else.
A child would give her somebody to talk to and endure the misery
with.

When my father learned about this
first child, he had it aborted. He didn't want a child. My mother
was told that if she forgot to take her pill next time, he would
get rid of her and the baby.

And then a miracle happened.
Jack's parents became pregnant. My father saw how happy Jack's
father was. He then decided that it was time to have a baby. When
Jack was born a male, my father had great hopes for me. He was so
disappointed that I had been born a girl that he left me and Mom at
the hospital. Jack's father was the one that drove us home. I think
he is also the one that got my father to let us back into the
house. He would never tell me.

And that is why I owe Jack my very
existence. If he had never been born, I wouldn't be here. I can’t
comment on whether this is a good thing or not. Jack says that life
is nothing but a search for meaning by people who were not asked to
be born and who are too afraid to die now that they’re here. I
can’t tell if he is being funny or not. I don’t always get a lot of
his jokes.

~~~

As I was growing up, I heard nothing about how
I should not be here. My family has always been one to tell me that
I have a purpose in life. I have been marked for a
destiny.

I was a troubled pregnancy. From what I have
heard, my parents tried for many years to have a child. After
several miscarriages and eight years of marriage, I was finally
conceived. At my mother's first meeting with her doctor, she was
told that she would be doing good to deliver me.

I don't think I have a destiny or
purpose in life. If I do, I don't know what it is. My father was
strangely silent on this topic. He never treated me like I had a
destiny, but it was like him to keep things like that to himself.
He had a way of sensing things and knowing things beyond his
knowledge. His mother said that he was a
chozeh
and could see into the
spiritual realm.

When Christine's parents were getting
divorced, I asked him about… my birth, destiny, and Christine. It
was a rough time for me. For the first time in my life, Christine
was away from me. She had been sent to a boarding school to be away
from the whole divorce proceedings. I needed answers and assurances
that everything would be okay.

Although I asked him a direct question, he
told me a story about the Jewish people. He told me about Joseph
being sold into slavery by his brothers and then saving his family
and people during a famine. He then told me the story about the
Jewish people being in slavery in Egypt and Moses leading them to
freedom. He then told me about the Holocaust and the formation of
the modern nation of Israel. He then asked me if I
understood.

I didn't. All I saw was that something bad
happened to the Jews. We were then rescued only to have something
bad happen to us again. My father kind of laughed and then went on
to tell me that I Am Who I Am brings about triumph out of tragedy.
Where there is evil, there is hope. Where there is hope, there is
faith. Where there is faith, there is love.

I knew that there was an important lesson here
that I was supposed to learn, but I had no idea what he was talking
about. So I asked him again. He then hugged me and told me that
when bad things happen not to look at it as the end. It is just the
beginning. He then told me that I should not be looking for my
purpose in life. My purpose would find me.

When I asked him about Christine, he told me
that she probably had a greater destiny than I had. When I looked
at him strange, he explained that she had the greater tragedy in
life. She had the greater chance to triumph.

When I started to argue that I had been a
troubled pregnancy, he cut me off with the fact that my birth led
to Christine being born. Maybe I had been born to bring her into
the world. Maybe my destiny had already been fulfilled and I should
look beyond myself. He then shot me a look as if this was the final
word on the subject. I did not fully understand, but I let the
subject drop.

And that was all that my father ever said on
the subject. He would die shortly after that, but that story
remains for another chapter. I can’t tell all of the most
interesting parts of my life in the first chapter.

________________________________

Much of the world I was born into
no longer exists. I don’t know if that is a good thing or not. For
all of the advancements in the mental health services in regard to
the diagnosing of autism, learning disabilities, and other behavior
problems in children, there was something freeing about being
autistic and not being treated differently.

I spent the majority of my adult
life not knowing I was autistic. I went to normal schools and
played with normal children without any special consideration. If I
had been born today, I would have an individualized education plan
and other special accommodations for being different.

Some could debate whether it is
better to treat autistic people differently, or whether we should
treat them the same. I mean, it’s not like they have a disease or
have a mental impairment. They think differently. Throughout
history, it is believed that autistic people have accomplished
great things, but then again they were thought of as being normal.
These people include Thomas Jefferson, Henry Ford, Beethoven,
Michelangelo, Isaac Newton, Jane Austen, Mark Twain, and Albert
Einstein.