I was born in a trailer park in Jessup, Maryland. I’m not sure how my parents ended up in this location, and in these circumstances. Our trailer was close to one of the largest prisons in Maryland. It is so large, and Jessup has so few other attractions, that the prison is simply called “Jessup” in the rest of the state. Our trailer park was close enough to the prison that one of my earliest memories was hearing a strange siren coming from the woods. When I asked someone what it was, they would say that someone had escaped from prison. Some parents would keep their kids inside because of this, mine didn’t. I still don’t know if it was the truth or not. As my consciousness started to become more linear, I was fully aware of my surroundings. I knew that most people didn’t live in trailers, I knew what popular culture had to say about people living in trailers, and I knew that I might be stuck in this lifestyle my whole life, because so many others were.
I don’t talk about this to glorify an “impoverished upbringing” or to tell any rags-to-riches story. I actually tell it for the opposite reason. My father wasn’t an abusive drunk or a deadbeat. He had the same job when we lived in a trailer park as he does now. Me, my brother, and my immediate family all had the shared belief that we shouldn’t be there. What’s interesting to note is that many of the other residents were the same way. People moved in, and out, and not all of them, not even a majority, were losers. Because I knew that not all people living in poverty are unsavory people, I too thought that not all people living in better conditions were great people. When I was 5, I attended kindergarten.
To be continued.
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