My Life Story

The Life of Lee Giles:

Quote: I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness and the willingness to remain vulnerable. (Anne Morrow Lindbergh)

Brief Synopsis:

In 1966 I was diagnosed with glomerulonephritis, a chronic kidney disease. In 1982 I was married with six children and developed End Stage Renal Failure, which is the term applied when the kidneys stop working. I started kidney dialysis in 1982. Six months later, the day after Christmas, I received a kidney transplant from my sister. The next day my house burned down, but wife and ally my children were not at home and were safe. Two months later my told me she was in love with my oldest boy's Sunday School Teacher and wanted a divorce. As a result of the stress brought on by these events, I lost my transplanted kidney and had to go back on dialysis. For the next ten years friends have told me that my life was a soap opera, and that I should write a book. I wasn't able to work for most of the next ten years because of my health, and because nobody was willing to hire me while I was on dialysis. Ten years later, in 1992 I received my second transplant from a car crash victim. In 1994 I married my third wife. Since then I have had basal cell carcinoma (skin cancer), two heart attacks, 5 angioplasty stints, non-Hodgkin's lymphoma resulting in chemotherapy and radiation treatments, an open heart quadruple bypass operation, and now degenerative disc disease which has cause nerve and muscle damage in my arms and pain in my back. This is my story.

Names Have Been Changed:

Because of the dynamics of my life, the fragile relationship with my children, and not wanting to hurt anyone, the names used in this biography are not their actual names. As you read on, you will understand why I have chosen to keep their names, and mine secret until after I die.

Why Write This Story?

I was talking to my daughter the other day and she asked a question about my past, which I did not remember. After some kidding around about losing my memory (don't know it was always kidding), she told me that she wanted me to write my history so she would be able to know more about me, since I wasn't able to raise her and had no real relationship with her until she had her first baby (that story will come later). So this is for her.

The Early Years:

I was born in Salt Lake City, March, 1949. I weighed 10lbs 11oz, the largest baby the doctor had delivered, and the third largest baby in the history of St. Mark's hospital. I lived in Salt Lake City (Rose Park) for the first two years of my life. My dad was a manager for J.C. Penny's and was transferred quite a bit in the early years of my life. By the time I was in first grade, we had lived in Billings, Montana; Rock Springs, Wyoming; Twin Falls, Idaho, and Portland, Oregon . The only thing that I remember about Billings is that once it snowed so much that we couldn't go out of the front door because it was buried in snow up to the top of the door. All I remember of Rock Springs is dirt and wind. I don't remember anything about Twin Falls. After the move to Oregon, my parents decided they didn't want to move around anymore so we settled in Portland.

My first memories in Portland were walking to school. I'm guessing it was about a half mile away. We didn't live in a very nice neighborhood, but the perception was that children were safe back then, and most everyone walked to and from school. The playground of the school was next to a large park, and there was very little cement or blacktop in the playground area.

I also remember going to Peninsula Park, to watch the penguins. They had converted the swimming pool into a penguin display. I thought it was pretty cool, no pun intended since these weren't cold water penguins. We had an apricot tree in the back yard, and I loved to pick apricots. My brother and I, and my two sisters, had bedrooms upstairs, and our parents bedroom was on the main floor. That's about all I remember about living there.

In the middle of my second, or third, year of elementary school, our family moved from North Portland, to North East Portland. I later found out that the reason we moved was that we were originally living in the Jefferson High School district, which was mostly black. I didn’t know it at the time, but it became very apparent later in my high school years. All I remember is that when we were looking for a new home, I loved one particular house that we looked at – because it had red carpet going up the stairs. That’s all I remember out the house that we moved into, in 1956.

The house we moved into was a Dutch Colonial. The address was 2724 NE 24^th Ave, on the corner of Knott Street. In this neighborhood, all of the streets that run north and south are Avenues, and the east west are Streets. Most of the streets have Native American names such as Klickitat, Siskiyou, Stanton, Freemont, Tillamook, etc. The grade school I went to was Alameda Elementary School, and included grades 1 – 8. I walked to school everyday (.6 miles – seemed farther when you’re in grade school). I remember many of my walks to and from school. Sometimes I would run, but most time I would walk. I remember many times when I left my coat at school, and when I got home, I would have to go back and get my coat. I don’t ever remember, during all the time we lived in this house, 8 years, having two cars. I don’t ever remember my parents driving to me school, or picking me up from school. I don’t remember walking to or from with any of my brothers and sisters, but don’t know why. I may have, but I only remember walking by myself.

I remember the first day of school, looking around at all of the other students, actually all the girls, to see which one was the prettiest. In thinking back, I realize that I have done this all my life, even now. I later realized that I am a visual person and visual looks are important to me, not only the visual looks of people, but in everything I see, which explains why art and photography have been such a major part of my life? Although the visual is important to me, it’s not everything. I recognize good looks, but don’t always need to, or even care, about making them better. For example, I have never considered myself good looking, but I don’t really do anything to make myself look better. I like nice looking homes and interiors, but don’t find it necessary to have them. I’m looking at our home as I am typing, and what I see is nice, but not great. Now if I had lots of money, then things would be different.

One of the prettiest girls in my third grade class was Trudy. Our relationship for the next ten years was a classic on and off relationship. I liked her in third grade, she liked me in fourth grade, I liked her in sixth grade, etc. She was also my sister’s best friends. She was a big part of my life growing up, and eventually broke my heart more than anyone else ever has. But in looking back, I can see that if we ever had hooked up, or married, it would not have worked. I don’t think she, nor anyone else, could have or would have stayed with me through all of my ‘trials’. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve to be put on trial, and I don’t know what I am accused or, or what the verdict will be.

Unlike many people, I don’t remember the names of any of my teachers. I don’t even remember them, or my interactions with them. I don’t have a lot of memories of grade school, but I do have some…

My most memorable memory was in fifth grade. From first grade through sixth grade, we stayed in one room for all subjects. But we did have special teachers that would come in for an hour and teach their specialty. One teacher taught music. I remember the entire class had to sing a song, which I don’t remember, but I do remember what happened. The class san the song, and at the end of the song, the teacher had me and three other students stand. He said that because we didn’t sing the song the first time, we would have to sing it again – by ourselves. The other three boys sang the song, but I didn’t. So he had me stand and sing a solo. That was NOT going to happen. So I had to stay after school, and I had a private music lesson. I was in the school band or orchestra and he was the director. One year I played trumpet, and the next year the drums. So my teacher was a little suspect when I told him I couldn’t sing, because I couldn’t find the correct notes. He said something to the effect that I could find the notes when playing the trumpet, so why couldn't I when singing. I told him I didn't know. I then tried to sing, and I don't remember exactly what he said, but basically he agreed with me. He said I could take some voice lessons (I don't remember if he offered, or if they were to be by someone else), but I wasn't interested in the least. So while it wasn't because of this class, but none the less, I don't sing in public. Never have, never will - not in a group, not even in church. But of course there are always exceptions... I once sang Happy Birthday at a party, but that's about it.

The other memory I had while attending Alameda Elementary, was my Art teacher. She said I was very good, but there was one other girl who I thought was better. She had more talent. All I could do, and it never changed later in life, was to copy work that someone else had already done. I was never really creative, but I could duplicate what I saw pretty well. This is trait has lasted my entire life. Along with that has always been a lack of self esteem. I am very critical of myself, as evidenced by my not taking any art classes in high school because I felt there were two other students that I knew that were better than I was. So I didn't want to take art classes and have someone be better than I was, which would hurt my self esteem. I know it doesn't make any sense, but that's the way I felt.

I remember gym classes at Alameda. We played kick-ball, softball, basketball, and soccer. When we played outside,it was on asphalt. We had no grass anywhere on school grounds, and there were no parks close by. I wasn't real good at any of these sports, but then as I always say, "good" is a relative word. I was never the last kid chosen when teams were picked, but then I was never picked first. I was usually picked somewhere towards the top, but never the top. Another story of my life. But there was one thing that I was good at. The school had all sorts of physical tests that they kept track of, and even had a plaque that hung in the gymnasium with all the school record holders of the tests posted. The tests were like 100 yd dash, high jump, softball throw, and standing broad jump. I was the best at the standing broad jump, and my name was on the plaque for several years, and for all I know is still hanging there.

I also remember the first fight I ever had (the first of three in my life). We were playing recess, and another boy didn't like what I said or did, but he started fighting. I took him down and put him in an arm lock, and held him there until a teacher came. To my surprise we were both taken to the office and were both sent home. They were not concerned who started the fight, or that I was just defending myself, but only that there was a fight. I don't remember being disciplined by my mother, who was the disciplinarian of the family, so it must not have been bad.