: Clifford F. Gant
: Why Am I Here? An Autobiographical Exposé: Duty, Theft, Murder& Redemption
: BookBaby
: 9781667805917
: 1
: CHF 3.10
:
: Biographien, Autobiographien
: English
: 344
: DRM
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
Why am i here? is the autobiography that challenges the reader to question their own missteps. This is not the feel good story of the year, but it is the confession of our lifetime. If conspiracy on the high seas, true crime, and internal reflection are your page-reads of choice, you'll have little need of a book mark. judge me as you wish but remember, until recently, i was just another you. if you love a happy ending, kindly burn this book.

Chapter I


South Moves North


North Moves South


 

 

Growing Up

To start anywhere other than 3232 N. Woodburne Drive in Chandler, Arizona would be a travesty of justice. I was the firstborn of my mother, Tammy Marlene Gant, maiden name Biddle. Due to a previous marriage, I was granted the honor of being the third born to my father, Clifford Earnest Gant. I was his second son. My mother opted for a midwife and a home birth, which was not completely unique in the 80’s, but no doubt nerve-racking as well. A home birth was definitely uncharted territory fora first time mother-to-be. Nonetheless, on December 10th, 1984, I breached the ‘Veil of Maya’ and was granted consciousness-of-decision. In other words, I was born. Clifford Frederick Gant. My dad’s hands were the first to touch me. That meant something to him. The few surviving pictures I have seen of that day show a woman, strong in determination and perseverance, physically spent and spiritually renewed at the sight of her ninemonth burden-of-responsibility. I am still inspired by the sense of achievement tangibly apparent in that 25-year old, on that 3x4 inch, thickKodak picture.

I wouldn’t be hers alone for long, though. No. Turns out I was just the pole position, the torch-bearer, for a litter that would total six over the next nineyears. I think of it now as the“one out, one in” policy. Looking back, it’s disappointing they both neglectfully subscribed to, or at least permitted, that scenario. One year and sixdays later, my sister Melody entered the fray, followed by Jessica, Melissa, Matthew and Mitchell. For those keeping track, it went me, THREE sisters, and then two brothers that weren’t old enough to beat up till I was atleast 14. Also, every child hasthe letter ‘M’ in their name except me. (Jessica’s middlename is Marie.) I also found it odd that that whosever names started with the letter ‘M’, were born natural red-heads.I’m happy with my dark hair.

In the early days, before our troupe was completed, I remember moving around often. Dad invented a razor that he thought would revolutionize shaving. He called it “The Handle” and later changed it to “The Gant Razor,” a possible harbinger of his ever-v