You Have No Idea by ConTextos Chicago

You Have No Idea

D. Wallace

The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people who are at risk of, victims of or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017, this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high-quality opportunities that nourish the minds, expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive selfprojection to author new life narratives. Since January 2017, ConTextos has collaborated with the Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Division X of Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narrative about violence and peace-building, and help author a hopeful future for these men, their families, and our collective communities. While each memoir's text is solely the work of the Author, the images used to create this book's illustrations have been sourced from various print publications. Authors curate these images and then, using only their hands, manipulate the images through tearing, folding, layering, and careful positioning. By applying these collage techniques, Authors transform their written memoirs into fully illustrated books. In collaboration with

You Have No Idea D. Wallace

I was born and raised in a small town in southeast Missouri called Poplar Bluff. Adopted at the age of six, I can still remember times with my biological mother. We were poor. We lived in a poorly shaped twobedroom house on the lower east side of town. For a long time I thought those colored food stamps were actual US currency.

We were poor, standing in the Rescue Mission line for food weekly. Toys, fruit, and candy on every holiday. When it rained, for fun we would play in ditches only wearing our tighty-whities, because we couldn’t afford to go to the public pool. When there were days it did not rain, we would walk to Black River, which flowed southward less than a tenth of a mile from our home. We skipped rocks across the dark muddy water from the river bank. As time passed, fear left us and we started swinging on ropes slung over huge trees, splashing into the water.

Our bond we built as brothers and sisters would go on for years to come, even after we got adopted. My younger brother Buddy and I went to the same family, our oldest sister Leah went to a foster home, and our oldest brother Dennis went with his dad. At the time, we all thought Dennis was the lucky one, because he got to go with his dad. Leah was the most unlucky, because her father didn’t want her, just like our father didn’t want us. But as it turns out, Buddy and I were the blessed ones.

Our new family, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, became our angels sent from Heaven. They were a hard-working, middle-class couple who wanted to make a change. My father, Robert Wallace, started his change-making years before we came around. He was a firefighter, absolutely one of the best in our town. He started out as a driver, moving through the ranks to lieutenant, captain, and then shift commander. My dad saved lives, from risking his own life to saving others. He was blown up in a fire at the Tower Motel; the burning building collapsed down on him, and he dug his way out with everyone still alive.

My dad is considered a true All-American Hometown Hero. When my dad wasn’t at the fire station, he ran his auto body shop out on Highway W. For as long as I remember, he was always at a shop. He didn’t start with his own; he worked at Joey’s, then at Gilmores, which was perfect at the time because Gilmores was next door to the firehouse on Barron Road. From there, he opened his own shop. His hobby, his passion was helping others. He would always beat everyone else’s price, even if it meant taking a small loss.

My mom was a flag woman for road construction. She would wake before the sun rises and come home after the sun sets. Standing out over the heated pavement while sun rays beam down on her, moving slowly mile by mile to resurface and make new highways. When my mom wasn’t working, it was family time. From keeping my sister Amanda in beauty pageants and swim lessons to my brother and I being in baseball, soccer, and basketball, we were a busy family. Sunday was a day of rest; we would attend church, and on most Sundays it would be all day.

My mom is an animal lover too, som ething my dad couldn’t stand. My mom always had a few dogs, a cat, and even a bunny at one time. The bunny did n’t last long. The snow white, red-eyed rabbit got out his cage and ended up in our backyard where our rottweiler was. And that was the end of him. It looked like a small mu rder scene, and my mom damn near had a heart attack. While it was funny to us boy s, my mom and sister didn’t think so. It was like the y lost their best friend.

I had great role models to set examples for me, so I try to raise my kids by my parents’ standard. Although I know I will never compare, I will always try. I always wanted to be like my dad, wearing a uniform and loving his wife and kids. I started my career at 23; I started a little late because I went to Hickey College first, a small business school in Maryland Heights, outside St. Louis. After earning my associate degree in accounting, I worked for a CPA and construction company before I joined the Army.

I joined the Army in June 2006, June 21st to be exact. When I first left, I made my mind up that I have to do whatever Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m told to do. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m getting paid to get yelled at and to work out. Shit sounds easy to me. While in basic training at Fort Sill, I learned a new way of life, waking up before the sun rises, completing weapon inspection, hygiene and cleaning living quarters, running at least two miles a day, and completing PT (Physical Training), all that done before breakfast. I soon became a morning person.

The Army changed my life for the best. I knew I would be taking on a huge responsibility of fatherhood for my daughter Katelyn, and I wanted to be prepared. Making a change for the better, getting out of a small town that some people call a sinkhole, I felt like I made the right decision.

After being at Fort Bliss in Texas, running miles and miles in the Franklin Mountains, the farther I pushed myself, the better I felt about my future with my daughter Katelyn. In November 2006, I graduated AIT (Advanced Individual Training) and headed over to the 82nd Airborne Division at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Inprocessing there, meeting a ton of new people and catching up with friends I made in basic and AIT, we all learned in the same briefing that we would be deploying as soon as Bush made the call.

I remember when Bush addressed the nation. It was sometime in January 2007, and I had a few friends over for dinner at my home in Spring Lake, a small country town about ten or fifteen miles outside of Fort Bragg. It was Munoz, Flores, Lopez, and Martinez. We all were drinking and playing Madden on Xbox, with music beating in the background. We made spaghetti and french bread that evening. While sitting around the dinner table, we silenced all conversation, turned the music off, and focused on President Bush while he addressed the nation on his new plan to counter terrorism.

While he spoke about beefing up numbers in Iraq and Afghanistan, he mentioned the 82nd Airborne Division, which was us. About three minutes after he mentioned the 82nd, Bush was still speaking and then everyone's phone rang. Almost at the same time. It gave me chills and the hair stood up on my arms. I sat back in my chair and thought, Shit just got real. Everyone was silent, eyeballing each other to see who would answer first. And then all the guys looked at me. At that point of time, all of them looked up to me.

I had always been acting platoon sergeant or squad leader in basic training and AIT. I led these guys and helped mold them into young rookie soldiers like we all were. So I answered my phone, and everyone else followed on theirs. We were told about an 0800 formation the next day, and those that lived in the barracks had to be clear by noon. We all ended the calls, and a strong silence forced itself all over the house. It was quiet; all I could hear was my ears ringing.

No sound from the TV, no one tapping on the phone, nothing. That lasted for about a minute or two. But it felt like ten minutes. Then Martinez lifted his bottle and shouted, “Salud!” We all raised ours and shouted back, “Salud!” A small get-together turned into a going-away or, as we called it, deployment party. That night we all told each other, “Be safe, see you tomorrow.” Handshakes and hugs as always, but since we were in different companies spread throughout Fort Bragg, tomorrow never came. That was the last night I saw or even spoke to any one of those guys.

And that's when reality sank in, watching my daughter play, knowing how sad she was going to be. Knowing she will be hurting from missing her daddy. Tears started to flow. For a moment, my vision got blurry and sound was distorted. And then I heard my brother say, â&#x20AC;&#x153;We should head that way, bro.â&#x20AC;? We left to the motor pool. It was a quiet ride. No sounds from my brother or mother, no radio. Even Katelyn could sense that something was going to happen. My brother was driving. Every time he used his signal, the clicking was extra loud. Click, click, click, click. You could hear every snap of sticks and rocks we crushed on our way. We arrived at the motor pool around 12:30, and we took our last pictures, hugs, and kisses.

My brother had just made it home from Afghanistan and I was heading over to Iraq. The yellow ribbon in front of their home never came down. Our family watched the formation as we marched in single-file lines, one squad after another, onto the eight black-and-white government buses. Most of the family members followed us as we headed to the Louisville airport, where an airliner waited for us. The bus took us to a hanger, where we got off the bus and formed a formation again for head count.

Most of everyone was quiet. The sounds of aircrafts landing and taking off over the thousands of cars on the highway nearby. Our bus left during a briefing, and our liner pulled up, British Airways. So we knew we were flying at least to Germany. After a 14-hour flight and a layover in Germany, we arrived in Kuwait, a place we call the gateway to the Middle East.

I sat in the middle of the plane, in an aisle seat so I could stretch my legs. As I walked to the exit at the front of the plane, I could see the bright sunlight, making that transition from the plane to outside. The sun beaming down on us, the heat feeling like a hair dryer blowing on us constantly. We had a formation for head count and weapons draw. Then we loaded on a charter bus that took us to Camp Buehring. Riding through Kuwait City, heading to Camp Buehring, I noticed the change in environment in the inner city.

The roads were beautiful, lined with trees and light posts, similar to most cities here in the US. You can see people walking, dressed with, what I like to call it, sheets over them. Females were covered from head to toe. Most people were staring at us as we drove past them, as if they knew who were on those buses. As we left Kuwait City, you can see a major change in the terrain. Refineries came about every mile. Heavy barbed-wire fence ran along the side of the road to keep people out of the refineries. Even further out, I saw people walking in groups, on camelback.

Once we got to Buehring, we completed a head count and weapons check. A lot of “hurry up and wait.” The wait seemed extra long because of the heat. The sun beaming down on us with very little shade. Our pop-up tent had little to no effect on the sun. We waited for more buses with our sister platoons, 1st and 2nd. When they arrived, we had a huge horseshoe-shaped formation. And that’s when I first saw my wife, Lisa.

While my 1st sergeant did what he does best, running his mouth, repeating everything about six times, I was enjoying my view. With so many guys around, I was sure she didn’t notice me, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only person checking her out. She standing there as if she was glowing. I knew I was attracted to her, but I didn’t know that she would be the one who changed my life again, who I would marry and grow old with.

I ended up catching up with her later that night. As my boy Moses and I was leaving the USO, her and her friends were standing outside waiting to enter. We introduced ourselves and conversated a bit. We would stare into each otherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s eyes, carefully listening to each other. We exchanged contact info, and left it at that. So after spending a week in Kuwait, training and getting acclimatized to being in the country, our unit flew north to FOB Speicher, just outside Tikrit, Iraq. We were staying at an airfield that Saddam Hussein used to manage. It was a rough few months of heat-blistering missions, dodging IEDs, pulling overnighters, living out of trucks.

It was November before I would catch up to my wife, Lisa. I was taking an early R&R, but before I left, I needed to see Lisa. I asked her why she hadn’t messaged me. She responded, “I heard you were married.” I told her, “If I bring you back my divorce papers, how about then?” She stated, “We will see.” At the time she was right, I was still married, but was going through a divorce that was going to wrap up on R&R. I knew I was good.

After having a small layover in Kuwait, I was able to catch a C-17 heading north to Iraq. Once I returned, I signed in, turned my divorce decree in at headquarters, and signed out my weapon, an all-black M249 that could fire up to 1000 5.56 rounds a minute. I was lucky enough to catch the list for that night’s mission with 1st Platoon. How is that lucky you ask? Lisa was a squad leader in 1st Platoon. I knew she would be rolling, so I added myself on the mission. I checked in with my squad leader and platoon sergeant. They briefed me with current news in-country, then they told me to get some rest. I did. I slept until 2000 hours, awoke, and packed my assault pack. I met up with my boys, and we left to the motor pool to dispatch our trucks for tonight’s mission.

Moses and I operated a 60-ton truck called a HET (Heavy Equipment Transporter). We would carry tanks or oversized vehicles that have gotten hit by an IED (Improvised Explosive Device), or needed to be taken from one place to another to complete a combat mission. We completed a PMCS (Preventative Maintenance Checks and Services).

And then I saw her—Sergeant Arreola, Lisa, the one I’ve waited so long to see again.

I jumped down out of my truck and called her. I told her what I felt: “I been thinking about you so much. I was hoping so bad that nothing crazy had happened to you.” As I was talking, I was thinking that I may have came on kind of strong and crazy-like, but she asked immediately, “Did you get your divorce taken care of?” I told her that yeah, I had a copy just for her. We walked back to my truck and I gave it to her, and told her she could have it. She smiled and said, “We will talk later.” She left it open like that. I was like, WTF? I laughed to myself, and just went with it. We started talking through Myspace. Things slowly picked up between us. By the end of December we were seeing each other, but really hadn’t labeled it. We had pulled missions together often, always trying to stay within a few trucks from each other, going from FOB to FOB.

We were able to call home often, before or after missions. It just depended on what time it was. With a 14-hour time difference, it was kind of hard catching family back in the States. On New Year’s Eve night, the Army held a dance for the soldiers that we would attend. We all went, four of her friends and Lisa and I. It was a sweet night. Once inside, the gym was darkened with dim red, green, yellow, and blue lights, with blacklights hung from the ceiling. Fog covering the floor, giving the gym a club-like feel. We danced from song to song, drinking liquor we had imported from the States illegally. I must have impressed her, because the kisses I got that night, I can remember them even today. That wasn’t the only party we attended that year. The Army had a Super Bowl party at the DFAC, with a two-beer limit. Lucky for me, Lisa and her friends didn’t drink beer, so my limit expanded to eight. Yes, we all were feeling pretty good.

My wife took R&R in May 2009. She scheduled it in mid-May because her birthday falls around that time.

To make her feel special, I ordered some flowers while I was back in Iraq and had them arrive on her birthday. Whenever she couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t buy snacks for mission (because she would be getting their trucks ready for mission), I would stop by the PX and grab enough for both of us. Gatorade, jerky, chips, and candy. A lot of times, once we staged our trucks for missions, our platoon would always stay back and secure them. Usually someone would run to the DFAC and get everyone a hot meal. But my wife being the person she is, she always came back with pizza from Pizza Hut, or some sandwiches from Subway. She already knew what I liked.

She had gotten out of the Army in 2009 and went into the Reserves. I got out in 2011, and I fell in IR status (Inactive Regular Army).

We then moved to Chicago, where we purchased our first home in Country Club Hills. I never will forget: after we bought the house, the lady who we bought it from still hadn’t moved out, so we agreed to give her an extra month. And when the month was up, we went out to the house to find it empty. It had a smell of wet dogs, and the garbage was piled at least five feet high, from the garage door to the rear wall, of things she didn’t want and trash. I was stunned, thinking, Holy shit. But my wife didn’t pause a beat. She immediately ordered a huge garbage bin that night, and the next day we went to work. Turning a negative into a positive, we found at least $50 in lost change, several antique pistols, and a rifle. A lot of items were still new and in boxes, and we later sold them and made a profit off of them.

After cleaning the garage, we moved into the interior of the house, gutting the kitchen appliances, removing the carpet, and sanding all the walls. Once we finished all of that, we were ready to hire help with painting, adding new light fixtures and ceiling fans, updating light sockets, and having Home Depot come in and lay down new carpet and laminate wood floor through the whole house.

We grew into a beautiful family. Katelyn, Alyssa, and Aiden wrap our family with neverending love. Like I stated earlier, I would never amount to my father. I caused my wife several headaches, and she has forgiven me countless times for my repetitive stupidity. We have learned to love each otherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s weaknesses, and build and mold a friendship that could never be broken. We were able to learn from the best, our parents. Our families were alike in many different ways; our fathers held tough love, while our mothers were very forgiving, so loyal and loveable. They all live by the Bible. I thank God for our parents, and I thank him once more for Lisa, and our family.

There was one more issue: the pink ’80s-style toilet had to go. With a few days before our home was finished, my wife sent me to Home Depot to buy a toilet. While I was there, a young man approached me to assist in my purchase. We discussed several toilets, and he, not knowing about the rest of my family, showed me this gorgeous single- or dual-flush 16-inch toilet that he strongly recommended, based off of my height and size. I was thinking, Perfect. This toilet sat there in front of me with a halo over it, glowing. I took a picture of it and sent it to my wife, and she agreed, so I bought it. Home Depot came out the next day to install it. After buying all new Samsung appliances for our home and new living room and bedroom sets, a few days before Christmas we were ready to move in. The smell of fresh paint, the new carpet smell, and taking the plastic off of the appliances felt so nice. Our house became our home. The first time she used the bathroom, I heard my name: “Wallace!” I ran to the bathroom, thinking something was horribly wrong. When I opened the door, my wife was standing in front of the toilet. I immediately started looking for a leak. She said, “No, Wallace, there’s no leak.” She asked me, “Why did you buy this toilet?” I told her that it’s nice, white and dual-flush, besides that, she liked it too when I sent her the pic. She then told me that the toilet was way too tall. Before she could even finish her sentence, I had a flashback of the salesman and my conversation about it being a 16-inch toilet.

I came back to life and said, “It can’t be that bad.” So she showed me. She sat on the toilet and her feet dangled in front, just like a toddler child sitting on a bench. I started rolling, laughing so hard my gut began to hurt. I summed up our conversation, already knowing her answer, but I had to ask: “Would you like to pick out another toilet?” She paused for a few seconds, stood up beside me, and stated, “We’ll have to make it work.” With the small/minor set back, we were happy with our purchase. We felt like our family was complete. I will never manage to be the person my father was, but I can say my wife is the closest person that I can find to measure up to either one of my parents.

In Memory Of Robert Wallace Arnold Jones Dennis King

D. Wallace I am from SEMO, From the home of Briggs & Stratton and Gates Rubber. I am from the gateway to the north, the south, or the Ozarks. Just north of the Mason-Dixon line, a town of all colors, the flooded muddy Mississippi River. The stench of cotton is a smell you’ll never forget. I’m from choir rehearsal and prayer meetings and discipline, yes ma’am, yes sir, From Robert and Olivia Wallace. I’m from a multi-colored and God-fearing family, From “better be home by midnight and not a minute later.” A small white country town, but the name of our water source is the Black River. I’m from miles of dirt roads, deer trails, and cottonwood trees. The home of the mules. Great soul food, chitlins, and greens, that I never tasted, Mom would always cook something just for me. From the thirsty bloodsucking mosquitoes. The long list of leaders: Frank Jones, Robert Wallace, so on and so on. The living room that surrounds you with family pictures and trophies To show that hard work paid off. A family that prayers together stays together.