Long, lost sister Susan Kendall McClure Etengoff!!

It was about the year 1980 or 1981 when my father Fred William Kendall came out to California with his then wife, Rita. My first husband and I lived with our 1 year old daughter, on Palo Verde Ave. in Lakewood, CA.

I think this picture was around the time that he came to visit and we started looking for my younger sister, Susan.


During one of our conversations, the topic of Susan came up. She was the daughter of my fathers' 2nd wife. To see how this came about visit ( How many siblings do I have???) We talked about when the last time he saw her was, what had happened, and where she was at this point. He hadn't seen or heard anything about her since about 1964?

She is the little blonde in the front. Susan Kendall was her name then. This was in Jan 1963 and was right around the time that I last saw her.

After my father cheated on Carol (Susan's mother, the first lady on the left), she divorced him and moved away. Her last known address was in Cypress CA, living with her mother. My father knew the address but wasn't allowed to see Susan. Soon, the house was sold and the whole family moved away to AZ. No forwarding address, no information and all letters that my father wrote, were returned undeliverable. He did know that her new last name had been changed to McClure.

So as we talked more about her, the more we wanted to find her. We had always wanted to find her, but were at a loss and didn't know how to go about it. We decided to take a drive to the old house, that was her last known address in Cypress, just to take a look. He wasn't even sure which house it was but knew the general area, on the street.

As we drove slowly down the street, trying to figure out which house it was, there was a man out in his front yard, watering his lawn. We approached him and asked if he had lived there long and that we were looking for someone that had lived there some 20 years or so, ago. He had lived there since the track was new!! We asked him if he remembered a family that lived on that street, that had a daughter and a little girl that moved in with them. Surprisingly, he remembered Carol and Susan and remembered that they moved to Scottsdale, AZ? I don't remember now, if that was the correct town, as that was 34 years ago.

So, we returned home with a little more information than we had when we left. I called information in Scottsdale, AZ and asked for McClure's phone number. I was told there were 5 or 6 of them. So I explained our situation and what we wanted to accomplish. She surprisingly gave them all to me. I began to call the numbers, one by one, but they were the wrong number, until........the last number.

I asked for Carol. The lady that answered the phone said that she wasn't there at that moment. WHAT?!?!?!  Oh my goodness! I don't remember the conversation that took place but found out that Susan had married and moved to Vancouver WA. I was given her number. We were all in shock! Did we finally find her after all these years?

There we sat, all nervous and anxious, what would we say to her when we called? Well, I called and we were all in shock that it was really her. We talked a bit about our lives and where we lived and what professions we were in. She told me that all the pictures she had of our dad were taken from her and destroyed by her mother, Carol. She remembered that he was tall and had dark hair and that he was handsome. She had faint memories of him. Then she asked me, "Do you know where dad is?" I gulped and said, "yes Susan, he's sitting right here next to me!" We all started crying, everyone in the house, including my mom!! He got on the phone and they talked, for what seemed like forever.

It was a happy ending that we found her before our dad passed away. They exchanged pictures and he got to see his grandchildren from her. It was bitter sweet because although they found each other, they never did get to see each other in person.

I was able to meet her in person, years later. This is me on the left and Susan on the right.


As for my other two younger sisters, we have yet to find them and he hadn't seen them since they were little kids. He passed away in May 1992. I am still on the hunt for them, Theresa Kendall and Tammy Kendall were their last known names. Maybe Teresa Kendall and Tamara Kendall and their last known address was somewhere in the state of Indiana. I hope to find them someday also.

A Broken Household!

It was the beginning of 1969, when I changed schools again for the second time, in less than two years. It was the middle of 5th grade and now I was attending Crenshaw Elementary School in Torrance. I finished out the 5th grade at that new school. I made new friends and had a very best friend named Lori Thurber. She lived on our street and we spent the night at each others house all the time.

During the summer following 5th grade, something was different and weird in our house. My mom and Ben were not talking to each other and he wasn't there much. He stayed out late and maybe never came home at night or until early morning. When she would cook dinner and serve it to him, without saying a word, he would get up and dump all the food into the trash can. She wouldn't say a word to him. I had no idea what was going on, but it was scary and weird.

Before I knew it, we were moving again, after living there for only about 7 months!! This time with only me, my sister and mom! We moved about 1-2 miles away, still in Torrance, but on 170th street, directly across from Carr Elementary School. This is where I began the 6th grade. We were happy in our new apartment, even though it was only a one bedroom. The room was big enough to fit a full size bed for my mom and two twin beds for me and my sister. No more walking on eggshells, no more arguing, no more sexual molestation by Ben, we were doing good. I was adjusting to my school and meeting new friends, once again. My sister was attending North High school (9th grade) and everything was going smoothly, until we started seeing Ben again. He eventually moved back in and that's when all the shit hit the fan.


The sexual abuse worsened, getting put on restriction by him, his spying, and his strictness and controlling us was insane. This wasn't going to last long, four people living and sleeping in a one bedroom apartment. We lived there for one year, while I attended 6th grade at Carr Elementary. So off we go, moving again. This time to the ghetto, Hawthorne, CA. I started 7th grade at Yukon Intermediate School and the trouble started from there.

Watts Riot, Los Angeles, CA 1965

In August 1965, we lived at 614 W. 79th St. in Los Angeles, CA. It was a house that we bought for cheap and it needed to be totally remodeled. Our step dad, Ben Kirkland took many years remodeling it from top to bottom, back to front. It was a nice house with a smaller house in the back. We rented out the house in the back to a couple named Tony and Dora.

Here is the outside of our house and pretty close to just before we moved.

I remember my mom working on the weekends and me and my sister always being watched by our step dad, Ben. On this particular weekend, we were going to the horse races at Del Mar race track, located in the town of Del Mar, CA about 20 miles north of the city of San Diego, CA. I also remember the whole drive there, which was about a 100 mile drive, there were military vehicles driving north, while we were driving south. We never thought anything of it, my sister and I, but that doesn't mean that our step dad wasn't thinking about it.

After arriving home that evening, I remember us pulling into the driveway and Ben saying to us, "now, I'm going to go unlock the front door and when I wave to you, both of you get out of the car as fast as you can and run up to the house." HUH? Why? I was only 7 years old and had no idea what that meant, I just know that I was scared as heck.

As soon as my mom got home from work, we packed clothes into the car and left. We went and stayed with some very close family friends, named Alma and Syd. They lived in Los Angeles but a different part of L.A. that wasn't involved in the Watts Riot. Ben had to go back to the house to board up the windows so nothing would happen to our house. He also had to go to work everyday and Syd would drive with him and when they were stopped by rioters, Syd would tell them it was okay, that he was a brother. This was the only way our step dad could go to work.

I remember having to drive through the area of the riot and there were military personnel standing on all the corners with their rifles. When we came to a corner, one motioned for us to open our window. When we rolled our window down, he said to "turn right or get shot!" Holy cow, was I scared shitless!! Needless to say, he probably wouldn't have shot us, but I thought he would, because that's what he said.

After the riots subsided, we were able to move back home, but nothing was ever the same. I remember living there for a few more years. In 1967, I moved from Manchester Ave. school to First Brethren School, located in Inglewood, for 4th and half of 5th grade. I suppose it was due to me and my sister getting picked on all the time.

I believe this was my 4th and 5th grade picture, while I was attending First Brethren.


At the end of 1968 or beginning of 1969, we moved to Torrance, to Delia Ave. We lost everything that was ever put into that house. We sold it for practically nothing. From that point on, we never owned another house.

Money means more!!

It was 1970 and I was 12 years old. We lived on the 13600 block of Lemoli Ave in Hawthorne, CA.

There was my mom, step dad, (Benny Allen Kirkland) and my sister. We moved here from a one bedroom apartment in Torrance, CA. (To learn why we all lived in a one bedroom apartment, follow this link, "A broken Household" ) to a 3 bedroom court type of house. My sister didn't live there long, as she became pregnant at age 16 and moved away.

Here we were at age 15 and 12. This was just about one year before my sister became pregnant and a little over a year before she got married and left our house.

I suppose the reason my sister got pregnant at such a young age, was to get away from our sexually and emotionally abusive, step dad. We never talked about it, but I figured it out later on in life.

I hated everything about my life. I hated living in the ghetto. I hated the way I looked. I hated living with our step dad. I hated moving again and hated the way I felt around my step dad Ben. It wasn't until this age that I realized what Ben had been doing was wrong and sexual toward me, even though it made me feel uncomfortable and weird. I decided one day to gather up enough courage to tell my mom that he had been making me feel very uncomfortable in sexual ways and that I didn't want him to continue.

I remember walking into the kitchen where she was cooking at the stove. I remember the washing machine was in the kitchen next to the stove. I walked up to the washer and stood next to her. I told her that I wanted to talk to her about something. I said that Ben had been doing things to me that wasn't right and I wanted him to stop. She asked what kind of things. I told her touching me in my crotch. She turned to me and said, "I don't believe you!" This is the exact moment that I know, I lost all trust, what little I ever had, in my mom or anyone. I was lost, numb, hurt, angry and confused. I didn't have anyone on this earth to protect me, but her. My sister was gone, my dad wasn't present in my life, I had no relatives, they were all in Japan. No grandparents, no aunts or uncles, no cousins, no friends, no adult figures that I could turn to for help. I only had my mom and she just turned her back on me. Money meant more to her than protecting me. She didn't want to leave him and have to support me by herself. After all, she had just been out on her own raising two daughters by herself a couple years before this and I guess she didn't like it.

Here is my mother and me just before I decided to tell her about my step dad. I was a strong kid, with strong emotions and a strong personality. I suppose that is why my mother never paid me no mind. It had always been that way all of my life. By her not leaving him to protect me, was kind of the same feelings I had always gotten from her. Me or my feelings didn't mean much!!

Bitter wife, bitter ex, bitter life!!...... Part 2

Back in about 1984, just after our second daughter was born, I was living with my husband, not happily, but married nonetheless. We had, had much trouble in our marriage, (as documented in Part 1) and had been married for about 4 years, with two daughters.

We lived in Lakewood and I became friends with our mail carrier. (I know, I know) He was very nice and we talked almost on a regular basis. I worked hours at work that I would come home around noon, so there was always a chance that I would be home when he delivered our mail. I remember a bitter cold, rainy, stormy day and he was drenched and shivering. I knew he would be soaking wet when he came by and I made him a cup of hot chocolate. When he came, I offered it to him and he gladly accepted. We talked as he stood on the porch, dripping wet and we talked for quite some time. We talked personal stuff as he had been experiencing difficulties in his marriage as well. (at least that's what he told me) As the days went on, we talked. We exchanged phone numbers as offerings of communication, when we were going through difficult times with our spouses. His wife found my number on a piece of paper and called my husband. She asked him if he knew that I was having an affair behind his back, etc. etc. We really weren't, but that's what she told him. He confronted me and I tried to explain that it was a friendship, but he didn't buy it. Well, at least he said that he didn't. This started the bitterness between me and my carriers wife. Her because she thought we were having an affair and me because she called my husband to tell him about what, she thought was going on.

We remained friends and talked each other through hard times, fighting, drinking, etc. He eventually told me that he left his wife and moved into his moms house. She lived nearby and had extra rooms, as she lived alone. He lived in a room in the back of her house. We continued to talk and the bitterness between my husband and I grew. Every time I went to the store or anywhere, he would question me. I was not having an affair!! Lew called the broker/real estate man that sold us our house and told him that we didn't want it anymore and couldn't keep it. We owed way more for it, than it was worth. He told him that if he didn't take it back, that we were going to walk away from it, so all papers were signed for him to take over the house. (lucky us) We decided to separate and I moved and got an apartment with my two girls in Huntington Beach, CA.

As I lived in Huntington Beach, CA with my two daughters, Lew would visit and we would go out, occasionally. I guess you could say, we were seeing if things would or could still work out between us. He started dating (openly) a few different women from our work. (trashy, I may add) In the meantime, I was also talking to my ex-mail carrier, as he was separated from his wife and getting a divorce. (so he told me) As my husband was deciding that he didn't want to try and reconcile, I too was deciding that I felt more for my friend/mail carrier than I had thought. My husband filed for divorce from me and we decided amicably, all the details of our divorce. My husband was to pick the girls up every weekend, but that proved too much for his dating life, so it became less and less. He asked to take them on vacation to Ohio to visit with his family and I agreed.

He took them for a week and this is when he met up with Sharon, someone he knew in Jr. high school. They went on a date and the rest was history. He spent the whole week with her and my girls stayed with their grandma Clay. Nice vacation for them, they thought they were spending a week with their dad!! No such luck!

We definitely were not getting back together this time. I thought for moments that we could make it work and then there were times that I knew we couldn't. I was now dating Charlie, my ex-carrier. I thought and felt that we were exclusive, but was I in for the shock of my life! This is where my bitterness came in toward him.

I had talked with his mom on occasion when I called her house to speak with him. She informed me that she was so upset as she was just informed that her son, Charlie and his wife were expecting a baby. They both knocked on her door and when she came to the front door, they both told her. She said she was so mad, as they were separated and he was living with her. He moved back into his place with his wife and that was that. When I did speak with him, he professed his misery and stated to me that he didn't want to stay and that all this was the biggest mistake that could happen. He again, moved out and to his mom's house. We would see each other on occasion and he professed his love to me. He told me that they were continuing with their divorce even though she was pregnant, I believed him. I know it was wrong and if I could ever turn back time, I would. This would have never happened. I can look back now and just cringe. She eventually gave birth to a boy and was planning on raising him by herself. (Mind you, all of this is what I was told, as I never spoke with her directly to get her side of the story.) As a result of our love for each other, I became pregnant also. We were together throughout my pregnancy and I gave birth to our daughter, Michelle Leigh on Sept. 5th, 1986.

We moved into a house in Lakewood and his older son, by a previous marriage, came to live with us. He eventually divorced (finalized it) but nothing was ever right or was it ever, bitter free. She never forgave him and made his life a living hell for as long as she could. We all felt bitter. I felt bitter toward him and her, she felt bitter toward me and him, and he felt bitter toward both of us. I think because he didn't handle the situation properly from the start, we both felt that he wasn't truthful to either one of us. She felt betrayed by him as he was lying to her and I felt betrayed by him as he wasn't truthful to me either.

Here is a picture of him and I with 3 of our 5 kids. Missing was his son Andre' and our daughter, Michelle. We were dropping my two oldest off to their dad in San Francisco.


This was all such a terrible time in all of our lives. If it were to be done all over again, it would've been done very differently.