The Beginning

Posted: May 9, 2011 in Biography

I know I was born and I know I shall die,
The in between is mine. I am mine.

I Am Mine – Pearl Jam


I was born. December 8th 1989. That was the day I was born. It wasn’t that I wasn’t lovable. It was that I was different. Jason they named me. Jason Alexander. And that would be my name. I was brought home in a blanket to cover what was yet unknown to my siblings. My brother always wanted someone to teach to play rugby. It was how they broke the news to him and my older sister. “He’ll be a soccer player, and a damn good one at that!” my mother said in her quiet, soft, shy voice. No scans had shown what I am. Or how It came to be. A complete shock to my parents and the entire family. I was born on that hot summers day without arms. The 2nd son to a blues musician and the first child to a quiet farm girl from the middle of nowhere. My parents told me they went through a very hard time when I was young. The entire community seemed to shun them and turn their backs on the family. All because they simply had no idea what to say, and it was probably a wise thing too, my father with his legendary quick fists and passion, my mother with her ember to inferno temper and love for me. I was her first born after all.

My mother told me about how my father used to play Sunday cricket. It was the last day of the season. So I must have been just over a month old. All of my fathers friends were there. “Look! Al’s arrived!” they said happily. “Oh… Angie is here too… and… the boy” My mother set up the push chair, put me in it, wrapped in a blanket to hide what were then seen as deformities to the world. An older woman sat in the bleachers as my mother rolled me up and sat down. “What beautiful eyes your child has!” she exclaimed loudly. Another woman hushed her and whispered something that my mother never heard. The elderly woman then turned to my mother and said “Can I have a hold?” My mother almost cried and said “He’s ummmm… he’s a different little boy, but if you want to you can.” The elderly woman turned to my mother with me freshly exposed from my blanket and said “Now. Why would that matter? He is a beautiful baby, such a beautiful smile and lovely huge eyes!” That was when my mother knew. Everything would be alright.

And everything was alright. My parents loved me and cared for me as you would any baby. The town came around and started sending cards. Word has it that one elderly woman was a busybody of the town and gave everyone a scolding about being so cruel to us. I still have no idea who that woman was. I want to say that she has probably passed on but I want to thank her for making my mother have hope that I would become a “normal” child. Normal is exactly what I became. I learnt to smile, laugh even, Play with toys, jigsaw puzzles mostly. They were my favourite thing in the world to do. The fact that you could attempt it in so many ways, and only one was right fascinated me. “Why aren’t there other ways to do it Mummy?” I used to ask. “Why cant the beach chair be on the other side of the beach?” or “Why can’t Mickey Mouse be standing on his head and Minnie Mouse be the Wizard?” It was like I could become one with the picture and think about hundreds of different scenario’s that could occur around the 5 characters shown. That was how I would play, by escaping reality and forcing my mind to work extra hard. I learnt to flirt too. My fathers son some say. I could walk into the supermarket with Mum and all the women and girls on the cash registers would smile and pick me up, I used to blink my big grey eyes at them and flutter my eye lashes. They used to squeal and give me free ice cream. Which I think is totally badass. Even today.


I think Ive written enough for today. I hope those of you who read it like it. And those of you who don’t read it are weird annoying gits. And you’ll never know I said that.

  1. agringa says:

    I’ve come to say ‘hi’. I enjoyed your first post and I’ve subscribed to your blog.

  2. I’m subscribed to Kar’s blog and I enjoy her writing very much. This first post is lovely and I subscribed to your blog too. Cheers!

  3. You should write more — you do it so well! This is very absorbing to read. It’s interesting that you find it hard to do, because the end result is so interesting and so well-written. Hope to read some more.

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