It's been some years ago that we built our first webpage. Our life has changed so much in such a short span of time -- when looking back, that is; when we were living it, it seemed to take forever -- we felt it necessary to completely revamp the webpage. So much of it is inaccurate; there was still so very much we didn't know. Some of it is simply a journey of reaching an understanding with each other. Some is simply a coming to terms with truth, learning to embrace the absolute reversal of life-long teachings and beliefs.

We are known as Corrieco now, and have been for some time. A bit of background is in order, I'm afraid. Forgive me for rehashing old meanderings should you already know the story.

The Understanding...

It all began with a baby girl -- the firstborn child of a young couple in the 1950's. From all accounts, she was doted upon, especially by her maternal grandmother. When the baby girl was 14 months old, her first sibling was born. He was a boy who did not survive the birth. That's when the baby girl discovered that girls were worthless.

His first memory was of lying in a crib, looking up at the curtains billowing in the breeze. The curtains had animals on them -- cartoon animals, not scary ones. Even then, he knew what fear was, but he wasn't afraid. She was afraid. The baby girl was afraid. He smiled at her, showing off the dimple in his left cheek, and she stopped crying.

In the years to come, the boy would be known by different names; he would be described in many terms: imaginary playmate, a lie, a guardian angel, a ghost, a demon, a fictional character with a mind of his own, and finally an alternate personality. She first called him "Chris" -- a male derivative of her own middle name. Chris was her companion, her comforter, and her protector.  And, for a time, he was her greatest enemy.

Oh, yes... the discovery... My life has been such a myriad of emotion and experience... There's still so much I don't understand... so much I don't dare explore. On the surface, I was ... well, I don't really know what I was or what I appeared to be -- but I must have managed to convey a certain sanity or normalcy. I'm basing this assumption on the reaction of others and the way I was treated.

I led a very sheltered life, or at least that was the goal of my parents. I can think of at least two reasons this goal failed.

(1) It is impossible to shield children from the harsher realities of life.

(2) When this shielding includes a lack of parental instruction concerning those harsher realities of life, the child is left defenseless -- the perfect victim.

This is not to say that I believe I am the ultimate victim or that I never had a choice in most of life's situations. However, I do believe I could have made better choices had I been given the proper information. Sadly enough, I was given a very painful and confusing education in these realities by the world, in spite of my parents' best efforts to protect me.  I was left dazed and confused.

Snowball effect...

Looking back, I realize that my life was spent pretty much in free-fall; more like a snowball out of control, gathering force and threatening more destruction as it rolls, until it becomes an avalanche. Or perhaps like a runaway train with everyone on board fighting to be the engineer.

Chris always seemed more in control than I was. People laughed when he told stories; my jokes always fell flat. He was more athletic, more courageous, more adventurous, and a lot more fun. Is it any wonder that he fronted more than I did?

Looking back, especially now that we look back together and the memories are more complete, I have found peace with my past -- most of it, at any rate.

During the 70's, in spite of my best efforts to shut him out, we were definitely still a dual personality. I kept falling in love with every boy who looked at me; he kept making buddies of them. The one boy he didn't make friends with turned out to be the one I married. Big mistake.

In the Spring of 1974, with tornadoes whirling all around the mobile home where I set up housekeeping, I "created" the character of Eli Bracken for a story I was working on. I was several months pregnant with my first child; sitting in the living room floor, using the coffee table for a desk. Eli was supposed to be a supporting character, with a minor role, as a reluctant hero. He became much more. I never finished the story, but I couldn't get Eli out of my head. It would be nearly 30 years before I realized what had happened.