Reminder: I was only five years old in the late 1970s. I was actually having important conversations with adults who hadn’t told me their real names. To this day I am not certain who they were.
I was being pushed around in San Diego, CA and I pitched it to people doing it: “Hey, why not create and use ‘big Abrams’ instead of the small ones?” It was so clear that whoever was messing with me, grabbing me, taking me around needed bigger people who knew more people, had more in their life.
It was clear I could not pay people off, and it sounded like my family members were injured and missing. I didn’t know what to do. By then I had lost my Hollywood professional name, people were stealing me from school so I didn’t get to know people there to grow up with. It was very confusing. They said I was a small Abrams… however I actually have no proof of my ancestors. Some may exist, however I don’t know how much truth the “legal documents” are.
At some point I was in France or Scotland with a group of people and they begged for me to “not be an Abrams”. I said, what about “Underhill”? They accepted this and then walked away. I think I was grateful because I got less picked on.
I could not fill the needs of people in San Diego in the 1970s. I was not enough for them. This coordinates with people creating the San Diego Spielberg team who also told people they were the working people and I was to be sent home to Honolulu, HI.
I was inspired by this post because now in 2025, I am still not certain why San Diego is FUNKY toward me. And I have to write yet again: I am not seeking work. My body is too compromised. I actually have more than one illness and there is still body damage some would label me “crippled” and unable to work. Enough damage I am not able to take on a husband. I AM NOT COMPETITION HERE in San Diego. I hope people can just move on from me and get others. I am “dead meat” and “Deadsville”. I’m clearly NOT one of the “big Abrams” either.