I wrote Beyond the Deep Water with the full realization it would likely have few readers. It was my life mission, at the time, to gain the catharsis the writing afforded and also to state my case to the ones who would pay attention. Until one has read this book, one knows virtually nothing about me, whether as friend, acquaintance or otherwise. I lived the greater portion of my life like a cockroach hiding in cracks and shadows during the history of the greatest decades of the wealthiest nation in history. With the exception of a few episodes I maintained sanity in the face of being ridiculed and ignored. I quit school at age 16 and worked for relatives, framing houses. They most reluctantly employed me, for I was considered too slow, too stupid. Thoughts of approaching a stranger to ask for a real job terrified me and I stuck with them. The year I turned 20, desperation drove me to hitch hike across four states, with two dollars in my pocket and no change of clothes. A car wash hired me to vacuum cars, in Long Beach, CA.
Every day was a climb up a rugged slope, with a raging beast strapped across my back. Even when I married, the struggle never abated. Only the calm that comes with old age has eased my burden in the slightest. During the writing of my book I gained self knowledge I might otherwise have remained ignorant of the whole of my days.
When I set out to write it, I intended to tell the whole story of my entire family. For years I turned out a chapter here, some pages more now and again, but was unable to combine the whole into a cohesive narrative. Discord with some of my siblings made me delete most references to living persons, leaving me with a short tale indeed. I turned to fiction to bind it together and was able at last to wrap it up, with the introduction of Rusty as a ghost.
Every day was a climb up a rugged slope, with a raging beast strapped across my back. Even when I married, the struggle never abated. Only the calm that comes with old age has eased my burden in the slightest. During the writing of my book I gained self knowledge I might otherwise have remained ignorant of the whole of my days.
When I set out to write it, I intended to tell the whole story of my entire family. For years I turned out a chapter here, some pages more now and again, but was unable to combine the whole into a cohesive narrative. Discord with some of my siblings made me delete most references to living persons, leaving me with a short tale indeed. I turned to fiction to bind it together and was able at last to wrap it up, with the introduction of Rusty as a ghost.
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