Myron

I grew up in a small southern town in South Carolina. We grew tobacco, corn, soybeans and feed for our livestock. I loved being on the farm as a kid. Those are my fondest memories even today. I look back today and realize that those first few years of my life were the closest to normal and fun I would have for a long, long time.

My father was a very angry alcoholic. I can’t remember him not drinking and being violent. He hit my mother a lot and was rough with her all the time. My whippings consisted of being kicked or hit with tobacco sticks. I was afraid of my Dad and I hated him for the way he treated my Mom.

My dad started giving me drinks of whiskey at age 6. He called them snorts, and I remember how they made me feel. He was a hard working man (farmers are a different breed – very hard workers). And that is what he taught me. He taught me how to work, fight, drink whiskey and ride horses.

I’ll never forget my first ride on a horse. I was five, and my father and his drinking buddies were at the stables drinking. He called me over and sat me on a huge mare, no saddle or bridle. He told me to grab her mane and hold on, and slapped the horse on the hind quarter. It took off at full gallop across the pasture. When it finally stopped by some old oak trees, I had both arms and legs wrapped around her neck. I fell to the ground and the mare looked down at me. I don’t know how I held on. I guess God had already started protecting me. There would be many more times to come.

The rush I experienced that day became something I chased my entire life. I think I lost my fear on that day of things that could hurt me, with the exception of my father. I lived in fear of that man and what he could do to us.

When I was 7, two of my brothers were in Viet Nam. That left me and my brother Steve to deal with our Dad. Steve was my best friend.

I smoked my first joint and got drunk when I was 9. I became rebellious and even more stubborn. My Mom was, and is, a saint. She held things together somehow. She had a faith that no matter what was happening around her everything would be okay. Today I know that kind of peace comes when you’re close to God.

My brother Steve had a ’67 Chevy Nova. Like many others in our small town, he would drag race all the time. On Sunday, September 15 1974, my brother and his friends were drag racing. It was a typical summer evening. I hopped a ride with the 3 rd car out. My brother was in the 1 st car. We were off for yet another race. Our car was way behind and I saw a flash in the sky like a fireball. When we got closer I saw 2 crashed cars, but it never entered my mind that it was Steve. We were about twenty feet from the mangled mess when someone said Steve Dean hit somebody. I remember thinking ‘Man, I hope he didn’t get hurt.’ When I walked up to what was left of my brother’s car I saw the awful truth. All four people in Steve’s car were dead. My brother and his best friend were decapitated. I was eleven years old. That nightmare, the vision and smell would never allow me peace or rest for the next 33 years.

I quit school and began drinking and drugging just to survive; the drugs and alcohol seemed to ease the horror of that night. I went to reform school for the first time at age 13. After a second stay in reform school I began my prison sentences. I landed in prison 5 times as a direct result of this disease and not caring whether I lived or died. When I was sixteen, my father became very sick. He would soon die because of his alcoholism. I took care of this man I hated for two weeks. The day he died he grabbed my hand and told me that he loved me for the very first time. I remember the look of pain and sorrow in his eyes.

Between prison bouts, my life consisted of drinking, drugging, fighting and racing fast cars. I was shot 3 different times in the back and chest.

God has been protecting me since my first horse ride. I believe he knew that someday I would carry this message of hope. In 1999 I was in a car crash and broke my neck in 2 places. I wore a halo (neck brace) for several months but still couldn’t stop drinking and drugging. I would continue until God directed my path to the Rebound program at Charlotte Rescue Mission in 2005. Today I don’t question why I’m still alive. I know it is only by God’s Grace that I am here at the Mission. This place has given me direction and helped me build a foundation for life. I’m not the same man that walked in that door almost a year ago. Today I walk with a purpose and have peace. For the first time in my life I can look in the mirror and know who I am and why I’m here. God protected me from death so I could carry this message of hope one day at a time. Thank you, God. Thank you Charlotte Rescue Mission.