(Thanks to Father Horne-y I was a seven-year-old sexual predator.)
Recently I went to the park in the little town in Illinois where this all took place. The building is known as “the log cabin,” built in 1952 according to the plaque outside the door, and it's still the town meeting place for Brownies and Girl Scouts, just four blocks from the Catholic church where Father Horne-y aroused me at age five, turning me into that preschool aged sexual predator in a Brownie meeting.
I was only seven years old.
Still I was whisked away and shunned. In fact the family moved to California to start a new life shortly after my incident with the Brownies. I often wonder how much the whole affair with Father Horne-y and my mom, and rumors starting to spread around the town, tied in with my dad’s decision to move the family from Bartlett Illinois to Los Angeles in 1955.
I'm here in 2012 living in a town near Bartlett trying to experience geographic triggers. I figure if I'm in the area, I’ll get an inkling of memory from a smell, or the way light comes through the trees at a certain time of the year. It's difficult because it's been more than sixty years since most the incidents happened and the world has just changed SOOOO much since the early 1950s.