My Voice to share ...

From the man who brought you “Laces ... for a Goalie” a fun story shared from one of many memories stitched together over fifty years.

Allow me to continue weaving more pieces onto the tapestry of my life. This next segment although, came with a foundational cost. I won’t lie, this little souvenir had encrusted itself into my psyche for decades. If we dig deep, beyond the layers set in my history I’ll reveal a most terrifying and devastating experience, an attack against my innocence, a piece which may never be restored.

With that said, If I may start with one of my favorite quotes by ... Marianne Williamson

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves – who are we to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you to not be?

You are a child of God. You playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fears our presence automatically liberates others.”

This following account is not for the squeamish, it will be offensive to some and for those who have felt their mettle tested under such desperate agony.

But I’ve learned through my years, there’s strength in numbers and everyone deserves to share their voice or experience, giving strength to others, letting them know that we have fought through the empty feeling of darkness and have come out the other side more powerful.

So, when you read my emotional script, you’ll understand that I no longer place myself in fear of telling others. Telling others of how I suffered in silence, while a single act built and shaped itself inside me, without prejudice. Leaving a young and impressionable boy tormented carrying the burden of feeling embarrassed, insecure, guilty, stigmatism, ridiculed, teased, or judged by my family and friends...not to mention having mental anxiety, anger issues, suicidal tendencies that challenged my worth, and falling short of nothing every time.

Yes, I was low, as low as you may get, but it was someone nearly twelve years ago who said that I should stand up, fight for my life, and find the justice within. And so, If I might help be that spark for someone else who’s been struggling, even at this moment now, then I’m doing something good. The name of my predator is Pat Clarizio, and he is as close to a devils’ touch as I’ll ever want to know. If there were others inflicted by his cowardly acts, I truly apologize.

It began as an ordinary summer morning. I was almost ready to pry my little body from the comfort of bed but chose to watch the delicate beam of sunlight split through the bedroom curtains instead.

When a buzzing from the alarm clock broke my attention and suddenly noticed that the hour was close at hand. Time for my regularly scheduled programming; Saturday morning cartoons. My Mom was in the kitchen making me a latte, well not the real kind, (I was only seven) it was made with an abundance of warm milk and a hint of espresso.

On occasion, she’d spice it up by mixing a single egg yolk and quarter shot of espresso before adding the milk, but not today. Today I got my usual, a nice decadent latte, perfectly favoured for dipping my Milano cookies. Ahh how those Ladyfingers would melt like butter and they tasted phenomenal.

After watching those shows, I was eager to fill the rest of my day with whatever my little heart desired or anything my little imaginative mind could conceive. But first I needed some funds, (I remember the days when you could buy just about everything for a quarter).

And on this particular afternoon, I was on top of the world. The richest kid on Gilbert Avenue with six quarters to spend any way for me to choose, and I planned to use it by hitting the entertainment district. Gino’s Variety Store the neighbourhood convenience shop with the only available video arcade game.

I popped my head inside to take a little peek at the latest game, and what to my wondering eyes, there were two new arcade games, and an even greater surprise, nobody was parked in front playing them. Here was my chance, some one-on-one time, an opportunity for uninterrupted play. I could hear the quarter slip past the slot, travel through its’ course dropping deep into the machine, then a final plunking sound when it hit bottom.

Pressing the start button, I instantly became fascinated by its graphic lights and sounds. And for a moment, I was a king. It seemed like I was playing forever until some random stranger pushed me out the way, taking my place at the helm. I considered making a fuss at first but realized he was stocky and heavier in build, so being much smaller thought it better to step away. Though oddly enough, did see what he was wearing; a red plaid lumber jacket-type shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of North Star running shoes; I recalled those particular items because I would see them again.

Leaving the back area, I walked to the front, stood before the counter searching for that golden wrapper, the one that single handily was responsible for bringing comfort and joy. It always seemed to speak to me, Ah yes! “Coffee Crisp…you make a nice light snack” and it did, it certainly did.

While unraveling my purchase I followed the stacked aisles towards the exit. Stepping outside the door to enjoy the sweet delicious crunchy wafers, savouring every morsel of that chocolate delight. On my last bite, something reflected like a sprinkling of dust attracting the darkness in my tiny pupils and filling up the strands in my brown eyes. It was the flecks from the round pappus head belonging to a dandelion. You know that fluffy top part used to blow those little white fuzzy stems away while making your wildest wishes and doing it until none remained, well I made a few doozies at that moment before placing all hope into my final wish. The mini twig snapped off and took flight, soaring beyond view and that’s when I saw what I’d be doing and where I’d be spending my afternoon.

There in the distance, down the road from where I stood was the old wooden railway crossing bridge. It held such an intrigue for me, it was fun, it was brilliant and for a kid my age, it was my way to feel like I was on cloud nine.

Her majestic height kept me coming back over and over. I would collect stones near her feet below, then climb those asphalt brushed steps to the top. She allowed me to dream I could fly like Superman. On most days, the first landing was where I’d practice a game called five rocks. Since I was a young child with a flustered mind of ideas, I wasn’t interested in playing games today.

Today I wanted something more and there was nothing more thrilling to me than to drop rocks onto the tracks below while eagerly awaiting that blissful sound when they’d crash onto the metal strips of rail; it was my sanctuary.

With my legs comfortably crossed and my head leaning against the safety fencing, I was prepped for a little fun. The stones I gathered were resting between my legs and randomly plucked out to be tossed over the side.

What happens next is something I haven’t been able to shake or erase. The final stone rolled off my tiny fingertips falling with purpose from my hand when a set of larger hands grabbed my neck dragging me down to wooden planks and that’s when I see them. The red plaid lumber jacket-type shirt, blue jeans, and the pair of North Star runners, the same articles I saw earlier. It definitely was the same person who pushed me off and away from playing the video game but this time his only need was to feed his appetite for power and fear.

He leaned his pudgy head down over my terrified face and said, “If you don’t suck my dick, I’m going to throw you off this fucking bridge” panting heavily in my ear, he then served up his power saying, “and there’s nothing you can do about it.” This time I chose to fight back with all of my might yelling loudly, “No!” while trying to get to my feet. In one quick motion, he had me pinned and pressed up against the top of the five-foot metal safety barrier warning me, “If you don’t fucking do it what I ask, you’ll never see your family again,” squeezing my throat harder, then said, “do you want your family to see your guts splattered all over the tracks?”

With some fight still left in my tank, I again gave a resounding, “NO!,” and that’s when I found out just how serious his threats were. He lifted my body higher past the top rail and my legs were dangling dangerously over the edge. Screaming for help at the top of my lungs only to hear him re-affirm my greatest fear. “No one can hear you … scream all you want,” he chuckled, knowing he had the upper hand. I was completely immobilized against the fence feeling almost powerless, he began to unbuckle his belt.

I took that moment, to give it one more shot and try to break free from this monster. I managed to pull away, but that feeble attempt was short-lived, after tripping over the fright I felt and sadly was clutched by the arm near the top step. Angered with my unwillingness to participate in his wishes, he forced my head to his crotch and told me, “ pull them off!” demanding me to remove his underwear to expose his penis. My dejection and repulsive expression to comply, infuriated him more leaving him no choice but to slide his underwear off and driving his penis into my mouth.

When he was finally satisfied, he let me go but I could barely move, it was as though I had been struck down by lightning and welded to that spot; no tears, no feeling, just an emptiness hung over me. I mustered some energy to wander home, spoke to no one about it, barely made eye contact with anybody. I kept replaying what had happened, trying with all I had to scratch it from memory but his warning rung in my head, “if I ever hear that you told anyone about today, I’ll find you and you’ll be sucking my dick for a lot longer…do you understand?”

No matter how hard I scrubbed myself in the shower, I have never managed to wash that memory from my history.