Two kids on a bike in Ray, North Dakota. I'm guessing in 1960 or '61. That's me on the back, my brother Scott is at the handlebars. Today he would have been 65 years old. He died in August 2006 of pancreatic cancer. Given our history, I don't miss him. But I do miss the boy who was sweet to me before things got ugly. And I'm happy to have photos like this to remind me that he wasn't always a monster. A very charming and handsome monster who sold drugs out of a creepy room in our basement while our mother looked the other way. A monster who made my life a living hell for over two years while he tried to molest me. Also while our mother looked the other way. I sometimes wonder what turned this boy into a bully and a sociopath. Though I'll never understand, I have accepted that what happened was no fault of my own. I have forgiven him, if only to be able to let go of the pain and anger. Looking back to a more innocent time helps.
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