The house I was born in was a tiny box of a house in a shitty neighborhood. There was an empty lot next door where prostitutes would hang out at night. During the day we would go play in the empty lot. My father had to clean up the used needles and broken glass to ensure it was safe for us.
There were these concrete steps that my brother fell down a lot. He has a little scar on his chin where he split it open once. Or twice. It’s hard to know.
I remember very little about this house or this neighborhood. We moved away before my little sister was born, so I was probably two when we moved.
But I do remember our neighbors. They had this thing in their yard. It was a giant metal spaceship. It was a life sized replica of a spacecraft.
We would go back to visit the old neighborhood and I was always excited to see it. I would wonder, for hours, where and why they had bought it. Or had they made it themselves?
Were they UFOlogists? Was it secretly a working spacecraft that they intended to try to fly? Was it secretly a crashed alien spacecraft? Did they have aliens hidden away in their basement?
The possibilities were really endless and endlessly fascinating. I would sit and think about it for hours. Literally, hours. I was fucking obsessed with the riddle of this bizarre spacecraft hidden in the middle some drug filled city neighborhood.
In retrospect, this was probably the beginning of my interest in the occult. Let me explain, that I don’t really necessarily believe in the occult. But I am unusually fascinated by it.
I have thought about this UFO off and on for many years. I first saw it when I was two. But never forgot about it. I still think about it once in a while. Still wondering what the purpose was. I think this might say something about me, because…
I finally asked my father about it a few years ago. It took me a few minutes to explain what I was referring to. But then he finally realized that I was talking about our neighbors that had an old airstream trailer in their yard.
It’s funny how memories work sometimes. It’s funny the way my mind remembers what was probably a broken down, rusting, trailer as this incredible spacecraft. And it’s funny the way my mind refuses to believe it was anything but that.