Candy's Journey by Candyrain76
October 2020
8The End Of The Story
9The Webs I Weaved / Pt 1
12The Webs I Weaved / Pt 2
13The Webs I Weaved / Pt 3
14The Webs I Weaved / Pt 4
15The Webs I Weaved / pt 5
28Locked, Loaded & Ready
The Webs I Weaved / Pt 2
October 12, 2020

I raised all my children just like my mother and father raised me. Treat everyone as you would like to be treated. And never hate anyone and, most importantly respect others as well as have respect for yourself. Never let anyone disrespect you. Stand up for what you truly believe in.

And I lived by those exact words that both my parents instilled in me.


We lived in a middle class neighborhood in the suburbs of Alexandria Va. Where keeping up with the 'Jones' was what everyone was doing back in the 70's. I always wondered who the hell the Jones were back then. Never seen them visit my parents before. But I knew they must of had a lot of money because my dad made sure my mother drove Cadillac's all those years. I will never forget the most disgusting one she bought. It was just so unlike her to buy a yellow Cadillac with a brown top. Thank goodness she got rid of it and traded it in for a Riviera. Oh wow mom's feeling a bit sporty I thought to myself. And it wasn't a Cadillac.

Never the less my mother had exquisite or better yet expensive taste. And people saw her as a bit of a debutante always shopping those high end stores. She always taught me it was best to have a few classy expensive clothes just in case you needed to make a grande entrance somewhere.
Dress to impress was her motto.

She couldn't stress enough to tell me that it was important who I knew in society. That people judged you by who you associated with. At the same time I became confused listening to her tell me her story about how she grew up with nothing. She didn't finish school and as a matter of fact she didn't get her diploma until she was in her mid mid fifties. How the house she lived in had dirt floors, and there was no bathroom in the house. And how she hated to clean what they called an 'Out House'. I had no clue what a out house was until my dad pointed one out to me.

'Oh my god ! You got to be kidding." I just shook my head feeling all skirmish at the idea of having to use one. In which I did once. It was disgusting !

Living in the suburbs right in the middle of lower class neighborhoods kind of worried my parents when they bought there first house. Plus the fact the area was not all white.

"Oh I can see it now Cliff. she said to my dad. We are going to be just like that movie, Guess Who's Coming To Dinner."
You just wait and see.

Guess you could of called me rebellious or better yet don't label me at all. I hated labels and I still do. But I learned that my friends in the neighborhood were so much different than the friends I made in school in other neighborhoods just outside my neighborhood. They used to tell me that I lived in that rich neighborhood.

"We're not rich!" I said. And I felt as if they were looking at me differently than them. I didn't like that they thought like that. Like something was wrong with where I lived. Or did I make them feel less than me. Either way I didn't like the comment that was made. And I certainly didn't want them to feel that I was better than them. Because I wasn't.

To be continued

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