My Shoes: Courage to Tell the Truth

By Adoncia Dunn-Sudds

An uncle who tried to molest me at the age of eight;

Almost raped again at sixteen; accused of child abuse;

Two brothers who were murdered; another brother who accidentally killed himself;

A mother-in-law who was murdered; two failed marriages;

A child who died of a rare disease;

Three mental breakdowns; locked up in three different Psych wards;

Two no-good baby daddy's; Lived the life of a "gang-banger's girlfriend;" numerous affairs, one after another.

The path I walked had plenty of red lights, curves, and bumps until I found the straight and narrow path....

This novel will bring tears to your eyes; it will make you laugh, cry, and feel my pain and I hope it will persuade someone to make better choices.

A true story about my walk in life:

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456710460

Adoncia Dunn-Sudds

Adoncia Dunn-Sudds was born and raised on the south side of Chicago, Illinois. She is the cornerstone of her husband’s life. Adoncia is a mother of two fabulous women and she and her husband are raising three adorable great-nephews and niece. Adoncia wears many hats and her "shoes" move in all directions: she manages foreign accounts for a large corporate bank, coordinates everything from parties, to weddings, to family reunions, and manages her own personal graphic design business. Adoncia has been actively involved for over twenty-five years serving in her church, mainly as a secretary and youth/teen counselor and she is currently in training to become an Elder. When Adoncia enters a room you can fill her positive energy. She is a true humanitarian, always helping everyone. The legacy she wants to leave to her love ones: ALWAYS put God first, others second and do unto others as you will have them do unto you. Her words to live by are: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me and the family that prays together stays together. Her unique LIFE and INSIGHT on life makes her a REMARKABLE WOMAN INDEED!

Book preview

Contents

Dedications

MY SHOES:

Prologue

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dedications

This book is dedicated to the memory of my oldest and dearest friend of thirty-eight years, LaDwenna Jackson-Washington, who recently found out she had lung cancer and became a victim of several strokes. LaDwenna passed away while this book was in production (10.16.10) To Bobbie Ann Brown, my mother’s oldest and dearest friend, who is battling a very serious illness: know that God is the almighty physician and He CAN and He WILL heal you, Bobbie. Don’t give up the fight.

To my devoted husband, lover and best friend: thank you for not being selfish and accepting me, opening up my life to all. I Love you, Your wife for life, Sunshine!

To my daughters, Dominique, Brittany, Frenae’ and all the young women of the world: you are a precious gift from God. Know your worth and demand your respect.

Lastly, this book is dedicated to the memory of my loved ones: my son, Michael Deshea Dunn; my brothers: Timothy Oron, Kenneth Bernard, and Darryl Dunn; my uncles: Dex and Clarence Dunn; my aunt Alveriga (Verg) Brown; Teresa Arnold, my mom’s best friend and my ex-mother-in-law; my mother-in-law I never met: Onie Sudds; and my two special cousin: Rickey Anderson and Rickey Burnett.

MY SHOES:

How can you talk about me?

You’ve never walked in my shoes!

How do you make decisions for me?

You’ve never paid my dues!

These are questions I ask myself

About folks who know more than I do,

Concerning when, why and how I should act

And they’ve never tasted my blues.

Each one of us has a different drummer

To whose music we walk in step,

And yet we hear everyone else’s tune

And make noise that sometimes, should be kept.

Since our feet will never walk

The same pace in time,

Why not just take care of yourself

And let my business be mine!

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t know it all

And advice from people I will need,

But just before you start to criticize

Remember to ask Whose Shoes are these?

Author unknown

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You haven’t walked in my shoes,

Or felt my blues and if you pick up my cross

It may be too heavy for you to carry.

Everyone thinks their shoes are the worst,

Until you hear about someone else

Whose shoes are much worse,

Much more worn than yours

There is always someone out here

Who is worse off than you

Here’s my story, about my shoes, my blues… .

You don’t know my story, all the things that I’ve been through. You’ll never understand my pain; don’t try to figure it out… You’ll never understand what I had to go through to get here… I’ve been through too much not to worship Him.

These are words from a song; oh how they fit me and probably how they fit millions of others’ walk in life. So many go through these trials in life, get through them and never want to remember them. So many people don’t make it through. They end up living day by day with nothing to look forward to or they are in jail, strung out on drugs or literally dead six feet under, or spiritually dead. Me, I do remember every trial, every mistake, and every situation of my life. I open my life up to you, an open book to all who will take the time to read it, in hopes that you will not do some of the dumb shit I did, not make the same mistakes I made and in hopes that if you are in any of these situations that you get out and change your walk in life.

It is my hopes that I inspire someone to want more out of life, to know they are precious—a rare gem worth more than silver or gold. All you have to do is tap into your spiritual being. God made you; there is no one else in this world like you. They may look like you and even have ways like you, but God made you the unique person you are for a purpose and reason; you just need to find out what that reason is! Before you were born, God knew you and who you would become. You have the choice in life to be anything you want to be. The choice is yours. What choices will you make? What steps will you take? Where will your shoes walk?

Prologue

NO GOD! Please don’t let him be DEAD! PLEASE NOT AGAIN, NOT ANOTHER TRAGEDY.

What is taking the damn cab so long to get here? It should have been here. I know my family is wondering where I am. I should have been at the party well over an hour ago. And to think I am bringing the cake for Janet’s surprise party. But Janet’s party and bringing the cake was the last thing on my mind. God, please, please, I beg of you don’t let him be dead. If this damn cab is not here in the next 5 or 10 minutes, I will just have to walk to Cottage Grove to catch one. It is Saturday night; if I walk, it should not be hard to catch a cab on a busy street like Cottage. I have to hurry and get to the party to let Mama and everyone know what happened to Timmy.

You can never depend on a cab when you really need one. What the hell! I’ve got to get to that party. All of my family is there and I can’t go to the hospital by myself. I grabbed the biggest butcher knife I had, the cake, my purse and coat and left walking from 84th and Ingleside to Cottage Grove. It was about four blocks—the longest four blocks of my life. I was crying and praying and walking as fast as I could. I know I must have looked like a mad woman with that butcher knife in my hand, all that crying and what seemed like me talking to myself. God, I know I don’t deserve for you to answer my prayers, but I beg of you, let my brother live. I promise you, God, I will always, always do whatever you say. I have changed and I have been living right. Lord, please hear my prayers, please.

78th and Racine, and please can you go as fast as you can? I need to hurry up and get there; it’s an emergency! The cab driver did as I asked; he speeded on my account. After I paid him he told me, Lady, please be careful with that knife in your pocket. Don’t hurt yourself or anybody else. I thanked him and hurried and got out of the cab. Now there is no way in heaven I would have stopped and picked up a rider who was carrying a butcher knife and looked deranged. But he must have seen that something was terribly wrong and he wasn’t afraid. I had brought the knife for my protection. Walking at 10:00pm by myself down four blocks was scary, but I knew I had to do what I had to do.

I thought about who I should track down first and tell what happened. Not Mama, she probably can’t handle it; it would be either Pam or Janet. Even though it was Janet’s party, I knew she was the one who was more level-headed and she would know how to tell the others. I was out of breath as if I had run all the way there. By the time I found Janet, I was hysterical. Janet, we have to hurry up and get to the University of Chicago hospital. It’s Timmy! It’s Timmy! We got to hurry up and get there. Find Mama and Pam and tell them. I remember Janet shaking me, asking me what the hell I was talking about. Timmy has been stabbed; we gotta hurry up and get there.

I can’t remember who drove us or how we got there, but we all hurried up and entered the ER on 59th and Cottage Grove and asked the receptionist where Timothy Dunn was. She told us to wait one moment while she went to get the doctor. Then she came back and told us to follow her. She put us all in a private room and a minute later the doctor came out and asked us if we were Timmy’s family. We told him who was who. I’m so sorry we did everything we could to revive him, but the cut from the knife hit a main artery and he didn’t survive! I’m sorry!

Here it is, 29 years later, and I still remember that night as if it was yesterday, March 28, 1981. My best friend, my big brother, my get-high partner was gone. Just like that. And I was the last family member to see him alive that night.

I sit now and reflect on my life and what I have gone through, the trials I have endured, the steps I walked, and the paths I have taken and chosen. Some things I had no control over, some choices were mine. I made bad choices, a lot of bad choices and I reaped all the pain and suffering that came with those choices. As you read my story, please don’t judge me, but take what you can from it and learn or share with others so they can make better choices. THE CHOICES YOU MAKE TODAY REFLECTS YOUR TOMORROWS!

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IN THE BEGINNING

MEN AIN’T SHIT! They are low down, dirty dogs that only care about themselves. These are the thoughts of many women and my first encounter with men would really make you think that ALL men ain’t shit.

Hold up, wait a minute. I learned that it is wrong to judge a whole gender because of the ones that I encountered. That’s like saying black people can only rap, dance or play ball, or like saying that all white people smell bad, have no manners and are prejudice. Stereotypes are wrong. We as a people do this to each other all the time and I should not be doing it either. I cannot judge ALL men and think negative of them because of the ones I dealt with. ALL men are NOT dogs! There are some positive, honest, hard-working, respectful, beautiful men in this world; there are some men of honor and integrity and who know how to treat a woman. Unfortunately the ones who first came into my life gave me a false sense of what a man was all about.

At the age of 8 my favorite uncle, the one I looked up to, the one who named me, tried to take my purity, my innocence away from me. I used to go everywhere with him. I loved him so much. He was the only father figure in my life. One day he started playing with me, tickling me. At first I didn’t think anything of it, but then he started doing things I knew he shouldn’t have been doing. He started fondling me and feeling on me in a way that wasn’t right. I started crying and asked him to please stop. Don’t do this to me. For whatever reason, he couldn’t go all the way. It was a lucky break for me. This was the first of many hurts and pain that I endured from the men in my life.

I am the baby girl of six siblings (three boys and three girls): Pamela, Janet, Timothy (Timmy), Kenneth (Kenny) and Darryl. Pam is the oldest and Darryl is the baby boy. We are all almost two years apart. Growing up, I was closer to my brothers Timmy and Kenny than my other siblings. Timmy was two years older than me and Kenny was two years younger than me.

I am the fourth child born to my mom. Yes, I said my mom, not my mother and father because he, my father, was only a sperm donor. I never knew my father. I never experienced that fatherly love. No one ever called me daddy’s little girl. My favorite uncle was the closest thing to being a father figure, and hell, he failed. He left Chicago shortly after that incident, never to return. (They were the first two men of many to hurt me. One I never knew (my father) and to this day I still feel that hurt and pain and the other I loved dearly (my uncle), but he betrayed me and took my young, innocent love for granted.)

I always knew there was something different about me than my siblings, but I never could understand what. I am the only one with a unique name: Adoncia. It is pronounced a’-don-see-a; the only one who is left-handed, and well, you’ll see the rest for yourself.

Mama gave birth to me on January 25, 1958, at Michael Reese Hospital. I was born, raised and spent all my life on the south side of Chicago. My mother did not move around a lot. The year I was born was the year the Dan Ryan Expressway was built. Mama was staying on 51st and Prairie when she was forced to move due to the construction. After that, we lived on 51st and Union until I was 4 years old. Next, we moved to 80th and Emerald. We lived there for 14 years. I went to one grammar school, Gresham on 85th and Green, from kindergarten to 8th grade; and one high school, Calumet on 81st and May.

I can remember every teacher I had at Gresham. I won’t bore you with their names but I would like to mention one teacher who was my favorite, Ms. Marion Krucek. She was the first white woman who showed me love and truly cared about people no matter what color they were. She was a great mentor, teacher and friend to many students. Picture in the late 60’s and early 70’s when there was a lot of prejudice in this world. Ms. Krucek made me see that all white people were not evil and bad and her parents were just as sweet. Now you know they were rare because they were brought up (her parents) during Martin Luther King Jr. time, and there was no befriending blacks in that day and age. Ms. Krucek brought me my first pair of designer pants. She was the first person to take me shopping on Michigan Avenue, ice skating, bowling and to fancy restaurants. I don’t have to tell you, but I was one of her favorite students. She was my 6th grade teacher and I learned a lot from her about life in general. I got all A’s and B’s not because I was her pet, but because she made learning fun and easy. I know if I had not had good grades she wouldn’t have spent that much time with me. And not only did she do it for me, but for about five other students too. I was her favorite girl student and Donald was her favorite boy. That is how I met CT, my first love. Donald and CT were best friends. Ms. Krucek didn’t care much for CT in the beginning because he was trouble and a bad influence on Donald, but she soon learned there was no separating those two. Donald and CT went everywhere together, so CT got to hang out with us a lot. Ms. Krucek was a young, single woman; I would say she was in her late 20’s in 1970. If I had to guess her age now, she would be around 63 years old. I kept in touch with her for a long time after 6th grade and even after I was grown. I tried to get in touch with her a few times later in life, but failed.

I first met Donald when he was in my 5th grade classroom. (We were also in Ms. Krucek’s class together in 6th grade.) I can remember when Donald started liking me and you know boys back then would pick on girls they liked. So one day, he was messing with me, pulling my pig-tails and I turned around and slapped him. I embarrassed him in front of his boys, CT and a few others, so he pushed me down. I had a busted elbow and I still have the scar to this day. I ran home and got my big brother Timmy to kick his ass, and he went and got his big brother Willie to kick Timmy’s ass. Well they never fought, but instead became the best of friends throughout their adult life. Donald was in Timmy’s wedding, and until his death they remained friends. Donald became a trucker in his adult life and died in an accident when his truck jack knifed one day.

8007 S. Emerald; my life began here. I had many friends, few enemies, and lots of childhood memories that took place in that neighborhood. Back in the day, you knew everyone on the block; everyone was friends. We had our days, like anyone else, where we might fight one another, but we stuck together when it came down to it. And if you did something wrong, any parent on the block that knew your mama could whoop your ass. And when you got home, and they told what you did, guess what? You got another ass whipping from your parents. We stayed on 80th and Emerald until I was 16 years old. My homies, I’ll never forget them: Collette, Diane, Naomi and Julia, Alicia, Patsy and Yvonne, Sylvia and Ulysses, Verneice and Derrick (known as Pot). (Over the years, Derrick and I became more than friends. He was my first boyfriend who I quit