October 3, 1964 in Flint, MI


Management Consultant


Leigh Anne Gibson on May 24, 2003 in Birmingham, Alabama

Grant Dennis, born July 18, 2004
David Elliott, born April 6, 2006

David Lee Kish, 1982

It may seem self-indulgent to write your own biography and it feels a bit awkward for sure. I'm writing this for future generations so that they will have something that most people don't have - direct insight into the life of an ancestor.

I have so many questions about my ancestors. While genealogy research lends itself well to learning about the major events in people's lives (eg.- birth, marriage, death, military service, real estate dealings), it tells us almost nothing about who these people were, how they lived their lives, or what was important to them. When most people die, their stories die with them. How many of you have looked at a photo of someone in an old family album and nobody knows who it is? That person is essentially lost to history and I find that incredibly sad.

So, for what it is worth and for whoever may be interested, here is my story as told through my own eyes.

My Birth and Pre Divorce Childhood
I was born in Saint Joseph's hospital in Flint, Michigan during early morning hours of October 3, 1964. I was the second son of Dennis George and Dian Elizabeth (Parks) Kish. My mother remembers that my delivery was quick and relatively painless compared with that of my brother, with whom she spent 24 hours in labor. She told me that they delivered me in the hallway while she was waiting for a delivery room.

My parents were married for seven years before divorcing in 1969. I was nearly five years old when they divorced and yet I have absolutely no memories of them together. I do have scattered memories of the this time period, but none of them are of my parents together. The family lived at 6822 Fleming Road on the north side of Flint, MI. My parents built the home in 1963/64 and moved in to it around the time that I was born. The house was a single story home with three bedrooms, a bathroom and an unfinished basement. There was a small living room and kitchen and a long narrow hallway. My brother and I shared a bedroom on the left hand side of the hallway near the bathroom. My parents and sister's bedrooms were at the end of the hallway.

My mother has told me that this time period was fairly indescript as she and my father were young, starting out and there wasn't a lot of money for extravagent activities or travel. She does remember there were a couple of families in the neighborhood who they played cards with. She also remembers me crying so much as an infant that one time she actually climbed into my crib to try to calm me down. This wasn't working when she heard a knock at the door. Wondering who would be knocking at the door in the wee hours of the morning, she scooped me up, climbed out of the crib and went to the front door where she was greeted by a police officer who, upon hearing me howl, decided to investigate for possible child abuse! Once he saw that I was actually torturing my mother (as well as the rest of the neighborhood), he went on his way.

As I said, my memories of this time period are pretty scattered, but I do remember some random things. I remember an elderly black woman named Cora who would babysit us. She would cook homemade french fries that were delicious. I remember all of us children adoring her. I also remember two teenage girls named Sue and perhaps Donna that babysat us. They would bring a case of 45 records with them and we would all listen to them.

I remember playing with a neighbor boy who we called Geener (most likely Eugene) who bit me on the rear end while we were all swimming in a kiddie pool. I also remember my mom spanking my brother and me with the backside of a hair brush when we were misbehaving. That memory is particularly vivid! I also remember two family cats, the first named Mittens and the second named Pookie. I remember Pookie running around after my parents had put a fresh coat of paint on the basement floor. I remember laughing at her as she tried to shake the wet paint off her paws. I also remember falling down the basement stairs.

What's really astonishing to me is that no photos of the entire family from 1963 - 1969 are in existence today. There are a number of photos of us children, but not a single family portrait or snapshot has survived. My mother believes it's likely that no formal portraits of the family were ever taken. She does remember taking us children to the studio for portraits, however. She remembers a photo of my sister Darcy standing in a crib that was so adorable that the Studio featured it in their store window. However, the family could only afford to buy a few photos and could not take it home. So, she would walk past the store to admire it on display.

In the summer of 1968, my parents sold our Fleming Road home to my Uncle Larry and bought a home on Fenton Lake. I have a few vague memories of this home but because we lived there for only about six months before my parents divorced, I don't remember much. I remember a staircase leading down to a living room and I remember that our yard was all dirt because of the new construction. I also know that we had a mean German Shepherd named King. I also distinctly remember a toy that I had that floated off into the lagoon and the lake. It was a black rubber gorilla. I've since learned as a result of collecting GI Joe later in my life, that this toy was part of the 1969 GI Joe Capture the Pygmy Gorilla play set.

By late 1968, my parents' marriage was near its end. My mother tells me that there were many fights throughout their marriage and that she felt that she and my father were just too young and too different for the marriage to survive. I don't remember much about the split, but I have a picture in my mind of my Dad in the driveway of the Fenton Lake home with a hard side brown leather suitcase and my Mom trying to comfort us children and downplay the enormity of the moment. I've hardly ever thought of that moment since it occurred and the memory of it, combined with the fact that my oldest son is the same age I was then, brings tears to my eyes as I write this.

Darcy's marble in the diaper

Fleming Road Again
It's funny how most of the memories you have of the earliest portion of your life are of traumatic events that had a significant emotional impact on you.

stitches in finger
sack of candy at 7 11
Farrells Ice Cream parlor
convertible car


Mother's memory of me crying incessantly, she got in the crib with me and finally the cops came.

Darcy and me eating a whole bottle of baby aspirin

going to A&W root beer
with aunt vickie
riding on uncle guy's motorcycle
Milcho's night class puzzle
Bowling alley day care

dog bite
Mrs. Daughty and family
the Units
Raw egg for Easter
Mrs. Taubits
kicking a black boy in the eye

brother shot me in the butt
broken collar bone
steeling candy at halloween
red blue carpet tiles
dancing around the living room when the house sold

hot marshmellow in eye up north

The Hill Road Years



6228 Fleming Road
Flint, MI

Fenton, MI

6228 Fleming Road
Flint, MI

9229 W. Hill Road
Swartz Creek, MI

7510 Miller Road
Swartz Creek, MI

Emmons Hall
Michigan State University
East Lansing, MI

Capitol Villa Apartments
East Lansing, MI

Hagadorn Road
East Lansing, MI


Auburn Hills, MI

Wixom, MI

7510 Miller Road
Swartz Creek, MI 48473

2312 Highland Ave.
Manhattan Beach, CA 90266

411 12th Street
Hermosa Beach, CA 90254

Highland Square NE
Atlanta, GA

5265 Roxburghe Court
San Jose, CA 95138

1115 Longspur Lane
Colorado Springs, CO 80918

3520 Moody Parkway
Moody, AL 35004

7345 Rand Drive
Douglasville, GA 30135

Was yours a religious family?
The first church I ever entered was St. John Vianney Catholic Church where I was baptised on xx-xx-xx. This church was located on Bagley Street in Flint, MI near where my parents lived on Begold Street. It's quitely likely that my visit to be baptized was my one and only appearance in that church as my parents were not church goers.

I was raised primarily by my mother after my parents divorced when I was four years old. My mother was and is not religious. During my childhood, I can remember attending church with her just once. It was Easter Sunday during my highschool years and we attended services at the Methodist Church just down the street from our house on Miller Road.

My father, on the other hand, was very religious. He was raised Catholic [did mom and dad attend church while they were married?] After my parents divorced, my dad married Marcia Jane Fick who was active in the Presbyterian church. My father bacqame very active in the chruch and hence we always went to church on the Sundays we were with him. From 197X to 197X, my father and step-mother were members of Linden Presbyterian Church in downtown Linden, Michigan. [describe church]. It was inside this church that my first religious experiences occurred. Services were usually an hour and fifteen minutes and to that point in my life those 1 1/4 hours were the most excruciating I had ever experienced. The bulletin which included a full half hour of sermon was unbearable for a pre-teen kid. Of all the sermons I sat through there, I don't remember a single one, most likely because my mind was focused almost anywhere but on the Minister's words. The agenda wasn't all misery, however. In fact, now that I think back on it, most of the itinerary other than the sermon went relatively quickly. While I hesitate to describe it as enjoyable, it wasn't half bad in reality. There plenty of interactive activities like taking communion, passing the offering plate and reciting the Lord's Prayer that were down right invigorating when compared to the prospect of sitting motionless and quiet while the Minister delivered the sermon. Of course, the best part of the services were the hymns and there were plenty to sing. My favorites were How Great Thou Art, Victory in Jesus and The Old Rugged Cross.

Swartz Creek Baptist Church


My father and step mother later began attending services at the First Baptisth Church of Fenton and my sibling and I joined them there every other Sunday. However, we children were getting older and soon we were in highschool and our weekend stays with my father tapered off and so did my visits to the First Baptist Church of Fenton. My Dad later joined Maranatha Baptist Church. My only experience with that church is one of tremendous sorrow and shame. I never attended services with my father and step-mother there as I had been in college when they joined the Church.






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