The Ballad of Seth Glover - Chapter One

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Someday, I'm going to write my memoirs and publish them in book form.

Today is not that day.

I used to keep online journals, blogs, on a regular basis. I used to think a really good idea to keeping track of dream I had. I used to have such vivid dreams, and it seemed that night after night they told a story. I still hve those dreams, but now I think it's all so trivial. No one cares about kittens and yachts and the color of leaves in caves made of crystal.

I want to write about something important. Something that means something. I want to write something that opens eyes. I want to write something that makes others feel like they are not alone. I want to write something empathic, touching, liberal, tolerant, world-changing, and above all things ... real.

And then it hit me.
I'm going to write about my life.

I look back on it, and it's not your typical life story. My teenage years were not filled with the stereotypes of high school life - of cheerleaders daydreaming about quarterbacks, goth kids silently protesting pep rallies, geeks playing Magic in the gym before class ...
I realize that at the time, when you're living it, it may seem like life - the biggest thing that could ever happen to you - ballgames, weed, prom, detention, band camp, art class - but honestly? In the larger spectrum of things ... it's all so very trivial.

But I knew all this when I was in high school. I knew that then and I know it now. It's probably why I didn't quite fit in, why I exceeded at so many things and was so determined about my future beyond education.
Experiences really do carry a heavy weight on your personality. Nature versus Nurture and all. I tend to lean towards Nature on somethings, but NURTURE on much more.

My parents.
My parents had always been supportive of me. When it came to playing the piano, writing, religion, school, orientation - all the major decisions in my life - they were there to support me. It was my life. I was allowed to live it how I wanted.
That's important - the support of your family. My parents gave me room to grow, learn, play, and experiment. They allowed me to become my own person, taught me that it was so much easier to be who I am than to live as something I'm not, taught me manners and tolerance, taught me to treat others how I expected to be treated, taught me that Karma is a bitch. They taught me how to fish, how to ride a bike, how fighting my big brother would never bring the cookie back. They taught me the value of negotiation and compromise, taught me how to love my neighbor and my enemy.
They guided me to the path that was Me.

My parents died when I was fifteen. Killed my a drunk driver.
My father was that drunk driver.
The tragedy changed my life, but I lived through it. I'm still here and I'm still me.
After they passed, I was sent to live with my mother's mother, Mamaw Cole. She hated me, my decisions, my life. She hated ME. And not just because I was Wiccan and she was very strongly a Baptist.
Not because I was bi-curious and she was very strongly opposed.

But everything to do with the fact that I was a boy.

Don't get me wrong; she loved my brother ... just not me ... because I was a boy.
She had no granddaughter. At least ... not anymore.

She'd enjoyed having a granddaughter for twelve years. When I was twelve I made a life-changing decision. Because until I was twelve ...

My name was Stephanie Marie Glover.