The Right Way to do Wrong Things

    My name is Justice, Justice Dunn, and my dad undoubtedly thought he was the cleverest man alive when he wrote that name on the birth certificate that first time. Maybe there was a time I would have agreed but not these days. Now I introduce myself as JD to avoid any of those same, worn out lines I have heard hundreds of times before. I also used to think I was living a pretty nice life. That was until I realized it wasn’t MY life at all. My life had been slowly molded by a series of life altering decisions, both difficult and simplistic, that were made by people who claimed to care about me, and with complete disregard to what I really wanted and obviously ignoring what true Justice really is. Sure, everyone who had a hand in creating the man I have become is happy with the status quo, but not me, not even close. Day after day, I have sat back in silence, and let others make every decision, no matter the cost, without protest and have become complacent, much like a tiger in a cage that loses interest in hunting and providing for itself. That’s me now. That overweight tiger at the Zoo you never see because his lazy ass wont get up from behind that damn rock. Not even I can explain how or why I have let things go as far as they have gone. Maybe because it was just easier, you know, not having to stress if I am making the right choice or not? Or maybe I was afraid? Afraid of picking the wrong option and having to deal with the consequences. Or maybe, just maybe, it's because this is the only life I have ever known?     This pattern of letting others make my decisions started when I was just a kid growing up in a small Carolina town of Rainy Valley. Anytime my father, Lawrence Dunn Jr. ever asked my opinion, it didn't matter what I said, my answer would quickly be dismissed or outright ignored and replaced with the “correct” answer, “his” answer. I used to ask why but after hearing him tell me “because I said so” a few times I just accepted the inevitable. It was easier than listening to that f****d up nonsense he calleds wisdom that he always used to avoid logic, so I let it go. Some people see nothing wrong with it and would say my dad was right and he knew what was best for me, or it was for my own good and I would probably thank him one day. Yeah, ok buddy, everyone is entitled to their opinion, even stupid ones I guess but that s**t should be illegal. Intelligent people would say he was definitely way too controlling of my life and this type of psychological abuse was never lead us down the road to a happy ending. Sorry ladies, this is not exactly a fairy tale. Can you really see this journey ending happily ever after? I seriously doubt that I will ever end up as some southern belle’s Prince Charming because honestly, I suspect I may be just as much of an irritated ass hole as my old man. Only difference is that almost everyone could easily see that Lawrence Dunn Jr. was basically a garden variety, textbook asshole.      This overbearing behavior could be traced back to the parenting philosophy of my GrandPa, or GP as I call so affectionately rebranded him. Lawrence Dunn Sr. was never the most involved father. He was too busy trying to start a business with nothing but a 3rd grade education and sheer determination. The great depression was like the ax event in the strongman competition to the Davis family tree and like most kids of that era, GP missed out on having a childhood. Taken out of school before he ever turned 10 and admittedly considered himself lucky to be able to count that high, went to work, doing whatever he could to help support the family. Regardless of any setbacks, GP became a more than proficient contractor and way more successful than he ever imagined. Although that depression mindset of “we could lose it all again tomorrow” never allowed him to feel satisfied and therefore never got a chance to relax until after he retired.     In the years after finding financial stability, GP became a father for the first time in mid December, and then again on the exact same day, 3 years later. The fact that my grandparents' celebrated their wedding anniversary 9 months to the day before the siblings shared birthday, could easily be a coincidence, or, it could be a sign of a failed marriage during a period of time when divorce was just not an option, which is a far more likely scenario. By this time the depression was over and American kids were able to be kids again. Although the patriarch of our little family never seemed to fully grasp the concept of play, he didn’t deter this behavior in his children either. My pops was never told he couldn’t participate in sports as a kid, but at the same time, he also didn’t receive any encouragement either. Even without the full support of his parents, he was still a formidable athlete and this is why he ended up pushing me so hard. He truly believed he was helping me to succeed and that there was no such thing as too much encouragement.           When I was born in April of ‘86, I was the old man's 2nd son, but really his 1st opportunity to make up for the faults of his father. Pretty sure my older brother Trey inherited all of his genes from my mother, Denise’s side of the family and you guessed it, they were all high waisted and bell bottomed. We could not have been any more like night and day. Polar opposites for sure. Most people assumed Trey was a nickname stemming from his full name being Lawrence Dunn III, because Trey could be short for 3, right? Wrong. This was not the case at all. Is it possible that pops. knew Trey was not worthy to be the 3rd Lawrence Dunn, or did he feel like giving him this name would be applying too much unnecessary pressure? Either way, we have all basically accepted it as a good call because my brother was a weak little limb on a family tree full of mighty branches. Other than Trey, the rest of us Dunn men were basically clones on a cellular level, and just alike in almost every aspect, which caused us to always be at each other's throats. Truthfully, no one likes another person that is just like themself because it means your own faults are often displayed much too prominently. GP had set the bar pretty high for the rest of the men in the family to get s**t done, He had also done most of the leg work for us too. He was building houses before there were power tools, and I get exhausted just from thinking about it. He was able to pass his legacy, Dunn Dimensions down to Lawrence Jr who thought would eventually be taken over by the next in line, me, but how often do plans people make ever work out just like they were intended?