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PLAYING DEAD | 15Chapter OneGENTLE GIANTSan Diego, CA: 1960’s-Fall 1983Let’s start at the beginning with the obvious rst man in my life—someone who was literally and guratively larger than life.My Dad, William Earl1 Faison—best known as Earl—was an All-American football player at Indiana University and the Los Angeles Chargers. First-round, draft pick of the AFL, one year before the team moved to San Diego. In 1961, he won Rookie of the Year and was an all-star four years in a row as part of the Chargers’ original “fearsome foursome” defensive line that ultimately won the 1963 Championship game.At that time, in some areas of the country, black players were forced to room separately from white and often could not even dine in the same restaurants. My Dad was outspoken on racial issues and became something of an activist. Most notably, he was embroiled in an event that became known as “the Great Walk Out” in Louisiana in January 1965. From the moment black athletes arrived at the airport earlier to play in the AFL All Star Game in New Orleans later in the week, they were subjected to a barrage of racial slurs, segregation, and physical threats. Twenty-one players, 1. Later in life, he changed the spelling of his name to Earle.

16 | MONIQUE FAISON ROSS and GARY M. KREBSincluding my Dad, took a vote that resulted in their refusal to play in the All Star Game. Who can blame them? These football greats couldn’t even get a “colored taxi” without being on the receiving end of taunts and abuse. In a show of camaraderie, the white players also joined in the walk out.My Dad stood six foot, ve inches and weighed 270 pounds. Despite his immense size and intimidating presence when he entered a room, he was a gentle giant—well-mannered with a certain kind of charisma. He was Hollywood handsome with skin so dark and glistening it almost looked purple and with magnicent straight white teeth. It’s no wonder he was always popular with the girls. He met my mother, Barbara Jewel Marshall, while they were attending Huntington High School, an all-black school (due to segregation) in Newport News, Virginia. My Mom, a smart, slender, outgoing beauty, loved anything she considered “glamorous.” She enjoyed theater and was a majorette in high school. Though they didn’t ocially start dating until later when they were undergraduate students at dierent universities, Dad did escort Mom to her prom while she was a junior and presented her with her rst orchid.After high school, Barbara and Earl went their separate ways: he to Indiana University; she to Ohio State University. They ocially started dating while he was a senior and she was a junior. After he began his pro football career and while she was still attending Ohio State, he invited her to see a professional football game in Bualo, New York: the Chargers against the Bills. She enjoyed the game—which they won—as well as their visit, and their relationship evolved into a long-distance romance.Months later, Dad visited her at Ohio State and surprised her with his Kappa Alpha Psi fraternity pin. Back in those days, “pinning a girl” was a big deal and signaled an engagement forthcoming—which did occur shortly thereafter. They married on June 8, 1963. They had such a large wedding that police had to direct trac.

PLAYING DEAD | 17My Mom suered some miscarriages in their early years, which explains why I was adopted from a San Francisco foster home in 1966, a few months after I was born. My parents had to endure a ten-hour drive from San Diego to San Francisco to get me. I’m told that I cried in my mother’s arms the entire way back. We lived in a custom-built, split-level cedar home on Laurie Lane in East San Diego, which was an up-and-coming area at that time. Most of the walls were solid oak, except for two made of plaster, upon which a local artist had painted custom murals. I don’t remember much about my Dad even being in this house, since my parents separated while I was young. Once my parents were divorced, my father seemed to lack the tools necessary to maintain a relationship with me. In fact, he seemed to struggle with relationships in general.At the same time, my mother battled alcoholism—a disease we believe was inherited from her mother’s side of the family. On several occasions she would drink vodka to the point of blacking out. In social situations, she would end up so inebriated that she would become belligerent and embarrass my Dad. As with many marriages, it was the little things that eroded their relationship, though her drinking was a contributing factor. On one occasion, she drunkenly cursed out a top bank executive at the Bali Hai Polynesian restaurant in San Diego, which was the last straw for my Dad. Proper and dignied, he could no longer tolerate her behavior and made up his mind to leave. His rst instinct was to ght for custody of me, but this was a losing battle for men at that time when it was largely believed that only women could care for young children. Also, my Dad had a demanding travel schedule, so he would have needed full time childcare. He tried to enlist the assistance of my paternal grandmother to take care of me, but she worked full time.

18 | MONIQUE FAISON ROSS and GARY M. KREBSAfter the marriage ended, my Mom was engaged twice over a period of thirty years but never remarried. I suppose she never truly let go of my Dad. ***As the years passed, my mother was left fending for herself as a single parent. Though my Dad gave her the house, the car (a Ford Thunderbird), and all our other major possessions, he was not forthcoming with nancial support. He had visitation rights with me and at rst followed through on them, but after a while found that the drop-os were too emotionally painful for him, and he stopped coming.To be honest, I don’t know how my Mom managed to support us. She had a beautiful voice, so for a short time—and some extra cash—she sang Aretha Franklin’s and Gladys Knight’s tunes in local nightclubs. I enjoyed when her talent surfaced at home, and together we sang along to all the Motown tunes that she played on our phonograph.I recall her suering from depression—which was not discussed at the time—and that she spent a lot of time in bed when she wasn’t shopping. Even at a young age I was aware of her drinking and remember emptying her vodka bottles and lling them with water. My Mom was not religious, but felt I needed to attend a private school. I was taken to school daily by Mrs. Lefton—a stout blonde with wavy hair and a warm smile. The Leftons lived down the hill from us with four girls and a boy. Mrs. Lefton drove her ve children and me to our small Christian school and then to church on Sundays in their large passenger van. Growing up I felt like a member of their family. At school and at church, something always seemed to prevent me from nding secure footing. Perhaps it was because my Mom never attended church with me; I

PLAYING DEAD | 19was always in tow with the Leftons. For a while I tried the soulful black church in town—which seemed to help a bit.Personal safety has always been an issue in my life. When I was about ve years old, as a result of a break-in, we had to change the locks on our front door. Cli Locke—aptly named, since he was the locksmith we hired to complete the job—was welcomed into the house by my mother, who subsequently passed out on the couch. After completing his work, Cli tried to wake my mother to let her know he was nished. Let’s just say he wasn’t exactly successful. He had to make the dicult decision of whether to stay and watch over me or leave me alone in the house with my passed-out mother. Later, Cli became a close family friend and my mother’s AA sponsor.One year later, my Mom recognized that her drinking had gotten out of control and sent me to live with my grandparents in Hampton, Virginia, for one year. During this time she voluntarily placed herself in a recovery facility called Turning Point for Women. I didn’t mind the separation since I was thrilled to be spending time with Nana, Pa, and my uncles. I especially liked being with my Uncle Rodney, who was only ten years my senior and more of a brother to me. He came across as a lovable teenager who was always getting himself into trouble. After the year passed, my Nana accompanied me on my return to San Diego. My Mom’s remarkable transformation to sobriety amazed me. My Nana called my Pa to let him know she and I had reached our destination, and they “had their Barbara back.” My Mom had returned to my grandparents and me. She went back to school, enrolling at San Diego State where she studied Industrial Engineering. She landed a job in that eld with a private company and began what would become her career until her retirement many years later.