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[Disclaimer: Everything depicted in this story is fictional and solely the product of the artist/author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or people is purely coincidental.]
Background:
From his shadow's point of view, this story contains the poignant events from Raymond Kohl's life that made him what he is today, a self-made tech multi-billionaire.
Somewhat of a recluse now, Mr. Kohl's early public persona was that of a stoic, ruthless, robot-like businessman.
This story reveals the private, very much human side of Raymond H. Kohl.
"La Silhouette Se Souvient: Demons of Childhood"*
"Life provides the experiences. People provide the paranoia." - Dr. Kohl, PhD (Raymond's father).
An experience or event is neither good or bad. It just "is".
Unlike observable physical trauma, "Mental Trauma" is purely subjective.It can't be directly seen, inspected or measured.
The clumsy definitions and pompous labels within the DSM-IV (pub. 1994) are merely inferences made by observing the effects of trauma, not the trauma itself.
To Raymond, that was just like naming a species of fruit "itchy", "rash" or better yet, the scientifically sounding moniker of "immedia de anaphylaxia ". Lol!
But no matter the cause, any unresolved issue from unreconciled mental trauma can spawn a joy-killing, soul-sucking personal demon.
Everyone surviving childbirth and puberty possesses one, two or a few personal demons that must be dealt with, surrendered to, or accepted and tolerated.
Raymond had plenty of them.
Two of his personal demons standout from the rest; mainly because they hurt the most and have been tormenting him since childhood.
Raymond knew that they may never go away, but at least he'd managed to negotiate a detente; that is, the best emotional reconciliation he thought possible.
However, like every other breathing and feeling person on Earth, if Raymond lets his guard down, those personal demons emerged from the shadows; Hell bent on wreaking havoc on all aspects of his personal and professional life.
It's best to begin at the beginning...
An Unhappy Childhood -
To this day, when Raymond thinks about his childhood, it still hurts.
Little Raymond didn't look, think, talk or act like other kids of the same age.
Raymond remembers every time his father told other adults that, "My son was born middle-aged".
The clever statement made people laugh.
His father would add some nervous chuckles to the group laughter.
But both his father, Dr. Kohl, PhD - Guest Professor and well respected Alumni of Boston University; currently serving as the Head of the U.S. Veterans Administration's Counseling Psychology Department - and Raymond knew that the statement wasn't meant to be a joke.
To make matters worse, young Raymond was fat.
Not just chubby or baby-fat cute, he was obese. And he blamed his Asian parents.
You see, to this day in most Asian countries, a fat child is considered a status symbol, a testimony to the wealth of his parents and looked upon favorably by others.
But in the United States, fat children are ridiculed and stereotyped as being lazy, cowardly, comical and stupid.
As far as little Raymond was concerned, his parents "just didn’t get it."
They acted like being made fun of daily at school wasn't such a big deal and believed that Raymond was exaggerating and overly sensitive.
Raymond couldn't count how many times he secretly cried over being – as his mother would say – “husky.”
He remembers dreading each new season of shopping for school clothes.
His mother never wasted time looking at clothes for normal size kids; making a beeline straight to the section of the store marked: "Husky-Sized" Children's Apparel.
Almost always, that section would be a tiny, out of the way area in the back of the store.
Still, Raymond was so ashamed that he would scan the immediate vicinity of the dressing rooms for any stray, random schoolmates.
Once clear, he snuck into the dressing room with his bundle of "Husky-Sized" kid's clothes.
Then he performed what felt like a Mach 2 speed – twice the speed of sound, or more than 1,290 mph - fitting session.
Finally, he again made sure the coast was clear before exiting the dressing room.
If his mother was satisfied with the amount, style and price of all the Raymond-fitting clothes, the ordeal was over.
But if his mother wasn't satisfied, Raymond would rinse and repeat his covert fitting routine, aka "Operation Husky Pants", until the mission objective was achieved.
At 9 y/o, Raymond was fed up with being fat.
School had just ended and Raymond planned to spend the summer break losing weight.
He'd already done a lot of research on all things related to obesity, nutrition and fitness.
He told his mother not to bother cooking for him because he would prepare his own meals.
At first, his mother didn't believe him and kept making dinner for him. But after weeks of refusing her food, she realized he was serious.
And since sharing food is a common way to show love and affection, his mother felt hurt, then disappointed, then disrespected and finally, angry - very angry.
Nevertheless, Raymond stuck to his nutrition and exercise plan.
When the next school year began, most people didn't recognize him.
He was taller, lean and fit.
And more importantly, he wasn't wearing "Husky" clothes anymore.
The other top demon from Raymond's childhood was racial discrimination.
Racism was alive and well in the New England of the 60’s.
And when Raymond's family moved to Florida in the 70's, it was worse.
He was often ridiculed for his slanted eyes and brown skin.
But most of the time, he was simply ignored, “invisible” – grey in a “black and white” world.
To make matters worse, because of his father's job, the family had to relocate every 2 - 3 years; making Raymond "that new kid" and forcing him to "run the newbie gauntlet' over and over again.
One time, Raymond attended a school in Southern Florida called "White City Elementary" (no kidding).
He'd only been there for a week, but already been labeled "that chink, jap and half N-word".
Then a new student arrived.
She was Russian and had only been in the United States for a month.
Raymond thought she was cute.
Even though she seemed friendly and desperately tried to make friends, her limited English skills got in the way.
The only English she'd learned so far was from watching television.
The more Raymond observed her, the more he admired her.
Whenever she knew an answer to a question or math problem, she immediately raised her hand.
If chosen by the teacher, she would proudly stand up and answer in her best, heavily accented, bad grammer, broken English.
She didn't seem affected by the cruel foreigner jokes and overt exclusion on the playground.
If someone was mean to her, she simply walked away.
But one time, she was right in front of Raymond in line at the water fountain.
Then someone behind Raymond yelled, "Hey! No stinkin' Russkies allowed at this one. Go use the other one".
She didn't budge.
Another jeer, more ignorant and profane than the first one, came from further back of the line.
Much to Raymond's surprise, the girl turned around and politely said, "Pliz be so kind as to siv my pliss in line, okey-dokey?"
Still shocked that she talked to him, Raymond just dry gulped and nodded.
He watched as the girl walked up to the school bully, got inches away from his face and glared at him until he put up his hands and said, "It wasn't me. I swear!" And pointing at another boy, he added, "It was him! Honest!"
Raymond watched as the cute little Russian girl walked toward the boy who was just ratted out by the bully.
He wasn't as big as the bully, but a little taller and a lot more obnoxious; spitting on the ground before the girl got close enough to be face to face with him.
He said, "Well, well, well. If it ain't little Miss Commie. Whatcha think you're gon'na.."
[BAM!]
The girl punched the boy in the nose! And when he reflexively covered his face, she kneed him in the groin!
It was over in seconds.
The boy went down like a sack of potatoes, crunched into the fetal position and began whimpering, "Mommy! Where's my Mommy?! I want my mommy!"
The girl spun on her heel and headed back towards me at the front of the line.
And the line parted like the Red Sea for her!
Raymond will never forget that girl.
She had curly, sandy blond hair, hazel eyes and a smile that could swallow the world.
Her first name was "Leshia".
Raymond could never pronounce her long last name properly.
And reading it did no good. It had way too many letter combinations that Raymond had never seen before.
They became friends and for a brief time were inseparable at school.
But nothing good seemed to last for Raymond.
About three months later, Raymond and Leshia were having fun on the playground.
Raymond was laughing as he pushed the seated (and squealing) Leshia at the swings.
Suddenly, Leshia dug her feet into the sand (akin to putting on the brakes) and the swing came to an abrupt halt.
The momentum sent Leshia flying out of the swing and into...
...her father's giant forearms!
Raymond couldn't figure out how such a big man could've snuck up on him like that?
With his scowl and full face, reddish beard, he reminded Raymond of a 6'2" Tazmanian Devil.
And he was mad!
He yelled in Russian at Leshia and then did the same to Raymond.
Leshia began crying.
Her father frowned and shook his head "No".
In rapid fire Russian, Leshia appeared to be pleading with her father.
Again, he shook his head "No", turned Leshia toward Raymond, performed some kind of rapid fire Russian soliloquy and finally snapped his fingers.
"What's going on? What did he say?" Raymond asked.
In between sniffles and wiping the tears from her eyes, Leshia said, "He say me to say you farevell becoz I vill neveer see you again."
Now it was Raymond's turn to plead.
"But why? Did something bad happen? Whatever it is, I'm sure there's people who can help."
"Eet iz no matter. Dere's noting to be don. Tank you for be my goot friend. I VILL NEVEER FORRGAT YOU!"
Leshia's lips trembled as she waved good-bye.
Her father grabbed her hand and they walked off the playground.
Raymond never saw her again.
Later in life, Raymond wrote down what he heard that day on the playground.
His memory allowed him to recall the whole conversation and phonetically write down the Russian words verbatim.
According to translation software, here's what Leshia's father said:
"I heard from your teacher about your infactuation.
I was not surprised to hear about this elementary school romance.
You are Russian.
Women in Russia mature quickly.
Young marriages are common.
My curiosity compelled me to see this Prince Charming of yours.
But this is shocking and will not be tolerated!
You have Royal Russian blood.
And as long as I am your father, I will make sure you never see this, this dirty brown monkey again!"
Imagine that?
[Submitted for your entertainment.]
May you and yours be well and loving life today.
In Lak'ech, JaiChai
*The "Demons of Childhood" NFT is from the Opensea Collection named "La Silhouette Se Souvient" (The Silhouette Remembers) - https://opensea.io/assets/matic/0x2953399124f0cbb46d2cbacd8a89cf0599974963/63477199864332346876047430691250883279803745216811129316337883303801931169793/
[See more of my NFT collections on OpenSea: Exquisite Women of Color II; Filipina Allure; Empyrean Beauty; Viking Women Warriors; Proud, Strong and Beautiful; Exquisite Women of Color; Exotic Allure; Assassin's Exotique; Orbiting Outliers; Quae Volant and Ancient Alien Digs]
(JaiChai 02 Nov 2022. Simultaneous multi-site submissions post. All rights reserved.)
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