The following is an excerpt chapter [rough] from an upcoming memoir by Kevin Michael Miller entitled “Little Fires Everywhere”: The Education of and Political Triumphs of an American Political Scion [Publisher Forthcoming]

Baseball which was something that I enjoyed as a kid. And a sport that I still enthusiastically incorporate into my life. Had, by the fourth grade, become something which I knew could carry the day. And, eventually propel me into the local, and national media’s spotlight. In Tampa, Florida. And the surrounding area. One of the most complex, and painstaking things which could have ever happened to me, for the better. Was when The Supreme Court of the United States, handed down a direct decision to the local baseball league which I’m still proud to be affiliated with. That required them, directly to allow girls, and women, of a certain age, to both perform, and participate in league activities.

Town & Country Baseball, which was party to a countersuit that interjected with the plausibility of a previous courts Title IX ruling, against little league baseball. Was decided in a close decision, which rested on Justice Sandra Day O’Connor, the first female United States Supreme Court Justice, to rule in a contentious 5-4 decision. That the state of boys sports, and baseball in particular (Pop Warner Football would come in a later ruling), could no longer discriminate against ageless females. Including girls. And that, under the requirements of the ruling. The league was required to allow “free and open”, competitive positioning to females, of a certain age, and prospect.

This ruling, which I’m proud to have witnessed play out on my television screen at my home in Carrollwood, Florida was at once welcomed, but also vilified by almost a majority of the players and coaches, in, and around my privately funded, and run, little league baseball, sports league. Their contention, and emotions are still intemperate to this day. That if a girl is in the league, and specifically on their team, then the facilities requirements, as well as the amount of competition, will decrease, therefore preventing the free, and enjoyable competition within the league. And, since the facilities, were partially funded, and existed on land, which was technically a part of the Hillsborough County Public School District. That meant that the onus on fulfillment would rest with the league, and failure to do so, could jeopardize the future of the privately run league, as a feeder system for some of Baseball’s most promising recruits. Including its now current Republican Governor, Ron DeSantis.

The decision, which necessitated Major League Officials on hand to implement. Meant that the game which I grew up with, had been forever changed. My reaction, was not one of any sort of male braggadocio, or machismo, but actually of calm, and acceptance.

When I entered into the winter league with “Jaime”, as one of the first female recruits to our “Mustang” league. I must admit I was actually more than intimidated. After all, I was someone whom had only known the game to be composed of mostly young boys, and men at that age. And my awkwardness preceded my every move.

As someone whom I would respect, as a competent, and skilled center fielder. She, Jamie, was someone whom, on my fifth grade baseball team, had become someone who built a steady rapport, and comraderie, with me, as the season continued. Her most obvious answer was almost never the answer that I received. And her desire to “just be one of the boys”, could be rewarding at a time that I struggled to have, and maintain friendly relationships with the opposite sex. And provided the cushioning, and proper complexity, that I needed in my life, and really, we all need, at that age. Which was essentially my first introduction to multi-cultural perspectives, and gender studies, writ large.

As I got older, and was at times both curiously affectionate towards, and extremely shy, in front of the opposite sex. I never let the lessons which she taught me (including one of my first heartbreaks), pre-adolescence, become something which didn’t dawn on me, or prevent me from successfully appropriating my feelings toward the opposite sex.

The lessons that her presence on the baseball field inured within me. Are lessons, which really, all of us should learn at such a crucial age, as we grow up, and mature from pre-adolescence, to becoming teenagers. Where relations, and friendships with the opposite sex become more common.

And, had I not known then, and from her, precisely how chauvinistic, and male-dominated my personae had become, during those twelve seasons of baseball that I’d participated in up to that point. With my days filled with boys my age playing tackle football, games of pickup squash, and kickball. I don’t think I would’ve ever understood, as succinctly as I do now. The more formalized relations, and reactions which I received in the seventh, and eight grade. When I would move to Tallahassee to be with my Mother. And ran into, in this the Capital City of Florida. More formalized undertakings, and relationships. That rested more, and more, on my perceived, social status, and nearby constituent organizations which I was a part of.

This far more heavily Democratic Party leaning portion of the state. Leon County, Florida. At the time, and still is. Due to its Bureaucratic, and highly urbanized setting. Was one of my first introductions to kids my age, that had more money, and time, than they knew what to do with. And, whom would often smoke not only considered by me to be hard drugs (like marijuana), cigarettes, and cigars. But would, actively seek out, and drink alcoholic beverages. At the seeming behest of their parents. Including at one time raiding my own Mother’s liquor cabinet. Them, then partying late into the night, with her own, handcrafted, Crown Royal Canadian Whiskey Recipes. While my only respite, and consolation, would be seeing the girls that I admired, chatted with online, and looked up to in my Middle School. Getting drunk, “skinny dipping”, in my Mother’s backyard pool, and pool house, while playing video games with me. Often until the sun came up. At one time even marveling over my then “prosaic”, 16x “viewfinder” telescope, in the nights sky.

One story that I’m able to conjure up from this era has to do with “Benjamin”, the black labrador dog that my Mom brought home for me one day.

I always thought it would be cool to have a dog, but as long as I lived with my step-mother, who was ghastly afraid of dogs, or any other type of animals. I had to be content with “visiting”, my best friend Nicko, and his small Shizu’s that his Father allowed him to have. As well as my other best friend from Tampa, Alex, whose mother had a cat named “Nirmal”. “Benjamin”, a dog which was given to my Mother by friends of the family, became an instant companion, from the moment that I first had him. In fact, for a number of months, from first moving to Tallahassee to be with my Mom, he was my only friend, and companion. Later, while caring for “Benji”, I was notified that he in fact would have to be sent back to where he came from, a local animal shelter, since I was too young to care for him all by myself.

When they came to take him away, I was just getting out of the shower in the morning. As I put my clothes on, I noticed that he wasn’t barking in the backyard to our home anymore. When I ran outside to see him leave, I could only just make out the vehicle they used to transport him to his new home. (I eventually got separately two hamsters as well “Chip”, and “Dale”). And, it was the first, but not last time that I would cry over losing a pet, and best friend.

Later when we moved to the other side of Thomasville. I would come across a neighbor whom happened to go to my Middle School.

In the intervening “Corbin”, a categorically beautiful girl, but far from one of the most beautiful girls at my school. Was a popular girl, that was friends with a nearby neighbor “Peter”, a fellow pupil, and someone I happened to meet before school could formally start over the winter break.

As we met up, and I introduced myself to her, and her family (her mother was also a nurse). Corbin introduced me to her newest family member. It was Benji, now eponymously coined as “Cisco”. The same black labrador that I was forced to give up earlier that year. When I saw him, along with what was apparently one of his sisters, I was so elated to see him, and I could tell from the way that he looked at me, that “Cisco”, recognized me as his former companion. Even if he did growl at me, after seeing his curious younger, sister puppy nearby. Still, to know that he was just across the street from me, and that I could hear him bark whenever I came outside, was a welcome relief that brought a sense of closure, and additional closeness, to our short, but sometimes tumultuous existence together.

This Middle School which I attended, Swift Creek, had, up until those more recent occurrences, made my life an unfortunate mess.

It was stories like these, that began to take on an uncharacteristic feeling of life imitating art. As I attempted to navigate a highly pressurized, and society infused Middle School social scene. That rested itself, almost exclusively, in Thomasville. The tony, and exclusive suburb which my Mother and I moved to. And the likewise surrounding “high-rent” suburbs in the area. Along the Florida, Georgia, State Line.

These suburbs, which by the eighth grade, could be populated with kids from political figures as varied as Senator Marco Rubio, Governor of Florida Jeb Bush, Governor Rick Scott; the since run Presidential Candidate, Ron DeSantis, Andrew Gillum, and Speaker of the Florida State House of Representatives, Don Gaetz; the Father of Matt Gaetz. Had decidedly made my big league political ambitions, come all but true. No matter how dreadful their nearby existence could be.

Matt Gaetz, whom I attended Middle School with, and eventually befriended. Was regarded by me, as cooler than he would at first appear to be. And, to this day, I follow him on social media, and the internet. As it both pleased me, and annoyed him, that I would call him “Fucts Destroyer”, after the black, emblazoned, skateboarding apparel company “hoodie”, that he was always known to wear, in our Middle School, and High School Years. Even to the point of me, later, contributing to, and endorsing his ideas, on my still updated Politics Website, kevinspolitics.com. For his first, and subsequent Political Campaigns, for Florida’s First Congressional District, in the United States House of Representatives.

And while I was always reticent, but also, erstwhile, heavily influenced, by his campaigning for the eventual ouster of former Speaker of the House Kevin McCarthy. I’m still grateful for his contributions to the Republican party, in advancing the cause of Freedom, Democracy, and Common Core Christian Values. And, I welcome his presumably, newly founded, political, and morally guided contributions, to mine, and his, Republican political process, and politics.

This marriage of the political, as well as the societal. Was a world which I had always burgeoned around, but until my successful matriculation at Swift Creek Middle School, was something that I had very little actual formal experience within myself.

But as I said, One of my first true Middle School bullies, whom would later confide to me his sexuality, as a friend, and “ska” music bandmate, together, in this cliquish “Capitol Hill” existence, would be Peter “Pete” Buttigieg.

Pete, someone whom came from the same highly cultured edifices, in the surrounding. Yet was still from, some of the same, in my opinion, seriously flawed, Democratic dominated politics. Was someone whom had befriended the schools Information Technology Administrator, and future Democratic United States Senate Candidate, and Democratic National Committee Chairman, from South Carolina, Jaime Harrison. After explaining to Harrison, the particulars of the schools LAN networking schema, and how it was structurally flawed from one of the positions of its creators, whom preceded him. He was thoroughly impressed with my entrée into politics.

With this knowledge, I had not only impressed future State Senator Harrison. But also “Pete”, and his on again, off again, best friend; my neighbor, and secret boyfriend to Pete whom also had the name “Peter”. And erstwhile, some of the most popular kids in the entire school. To the point that I began to be invited to Social Gatherings, Parties, “keggers”, and “get-togethers”, on the weekends, with the other kids, but really the other girls, that attended my Middle School, Swift Creek, and lived in the surrounding suburbs.

“Peter”, someone whom was my classmate, and nearby neighbor, was someone whom “Pete”, had been secretly in love with, all throughout my time there.

In fact, one of the most jarring things, I ever saw happen to Pete, someone whom had become a friend of mine over the course of our time at Swift Creek Middle School. Was when “Peter”, a neighbor that only talked to me casually. Dumped “Pete” prematurely, while at an after party, after a highly anticipated school dance. And instead made out with his, Peter’s girlfriend, that whole night, and weekend.

This tryst, something which being from a male dominated baseball culture, such as in South Florida. And having no prior experience with the plausibility of another boy dating another boy. Especially in my Evangelical, and strict Father’s household. No matter how openly accepted, it may be. Could be at times jarring, and counterintuitive. Like the time Pete spread a false “rumor” that he was dating me.

But also, for my own societal ambitions, frustratingly simple.

In fact, to expect one thing before arriving to the capital city. A sense of ultra popularity, belonging, and non-conformist, intellectual curiosity, bordering on Hyper-Affability, and Geniality. That had enamored me to so many, so quickly. In my hometown, and similar enclave of Tampa, in Carrollwood. Only to find the confines of the Capital City, Tallahassee, to be frustratingly stuck in their own chiasmic, and meretricious societies. To be a wakeup call, that I never truly expected to experience in life.

And, while it was going on, with no forthright knowledge to how the spectacles which played out, on a nearly continuous basis, at my newly built middle school, and how they would affect me. But also, the highly intricate, and seriously big league politics, which would play out in the states capital. You never caught on, to how insulated a bubble people were actually portraying. As well as hoped for you to exist in. And you thought the individuals, particularly the girls, with their pink, bright, and puckish skin, and lips. With long blonde hair sprayed and dyed, on an almost daily basis. To be an existence that you never stopped to presume, would ever end. Either for them, or you. No matter how cruel, and manipulative, their “games without frontiers”, could actually become, And seemingly be.  

Add to that, the insularity of the suburbs, including only the Thomasville area, and the immediate enclaves surrounding. Tallahassee, a town which had much cultural, and material wealth. But could also be, to my own suburban, and enclave upbringing, devastatingly impoverished. My lack of official time with my mother, whom was a constantly attendant full-time Bed Nurse, to a child-hood, near-drowning victim.

Including to that, the prevailing social, and societal mores, that were in constant attendance of the Democratic Party controlled Legislature, and Governor’s Mansion. Clashing, sometimes, to never before, previously witnessed, conniption. Against my own ideas, and free-spirited, and conservative underpinnings.

With my mother and father. While true, being Conservative. Had raised me in successive, staunchly Southern, Democratic Voting, African-American households. And were all too ready to take up their own appurtances, and attitudes. Even as I still attempted to participate in after school, and officially school sanctioned activities.

I, luckily, was not involved in many of the controversies, which surrounded this peer graduating class. Including an episode of drinking during the school day. An enormous, heretofore unheard of amount of truancy, and disciplinary action. And while it included a period of extended, unexcused (erstwhile) absences, and truancy on my part. After the untimely death of my older, college aged Cousin, Michael Mitchell, on Thanksgiving day. That caused me to have to embarrassingly, partially abandon the credits earned, for my textiles manufacturing course. I was never implicated in those, and the many other scandals at my own middle school. As well as, at least two high profile, and provocative abortions from one time fellow classmates.

This season, which existed in my life, would prove to be only the beginnings, of what had become a society wide, social, drug fueled “epidemic”. The now so called Opioid, and Fentanyl Crisis. That wouldn’t end until very recently with the scandals involving the “Varsity Blues”, cheating, and test taking scandals. As well as the “Abercombie Gate” scandals, that had begun to engulf not only the once prosperous, but now severely drug enabled community, in that Tallahassee, Capital City, and well to do enclave, in Thomasville. But also, the just as new, and prosperous suburb, which I would inhabit, in the bread basket, heart of the nation, Palatine. Which was located along the end of the John F. Kennedy Expressway, in the highly affluent enclave, of the North West Suburbs of Chicago, Illinois.

These experiences in my life. Navigating a “totally contrived”, and “totally pretentious”, social scene. At first in Middle School at Swift Creek Middle School. And then, only later, to find the same instances playing out in my High School, Palatine High School. In the Northwest Suburbs of Chicago, Illinois. All while at the turn of the 21^st century. And, having done so willingly. Had, in both instances. Left an indelible mark, for good, or for ill. Within the social contextualizing, which I would carry with me in life. Throughout my DNA. That I’m only now writing about in this book, at length, and with, thankfully, not the same life choices, as its unintentional victims. With a sense of pleasure, and accomplishment. Even at this late date.

To say, however, that I don’t regret the circumstances, and the resultant endings. Of Midnight Partying. Drinking before the Sun even comes up. And the other stereotypical things that highly affluent, highly conformist adolescents, are presumed to spend their time doing.

The bartering, and selling of sexual favors, for drugs, and alcohol. So called “Affluenza”. Is something that I have a hard time squaring with my own life, and the sometimes mediocrity, of my highly literate, and often times “plain”, and “boring”, quiet Friday, and Saturday nights, as they’ve existed over the last two decades of my life. And, while I always presumed, that the children of some of the adults whom I got to know, and befriend, during these periods in my adolescence. Would grow up to be much like their adult counterparts. I understand now, the many nuances, and subject matters, which only adults can truly grasp the gravity, and weight of. And in ways, which only an adult, can fully appreciate.

I still question, what the legitimacy of my actions at this age in my life, as I end my thirties, would’ve been. And precisely how casual some of these acquaintances would have seemed. And indeed, the scenarios which played out within them. Had I not come across such fool heartiness, and wanton destructive behavior. In a previous, less mature, and adolescent, period in my life.

However, like I said, the experiences which I had both on, and off the baseball diamond. Would shape, and mold my character, and existence, at least into my adult years, and beyond. Something, later on, I would not find lacking. When I needed to truly be alone, and have the sense, and willpower, to concentrate. And the academic studies I would embark on, would last days, weeks, and sometimes even months, and years. Effectively killing any premature, and adolescent social ambitions, which I would presume to have for myself.

This understanding, between the social, the affable, and yet still very consciously serious. Is something I would have to navigate at a later period in my life. And, after the lessons, and teachings of my youth, along with the understandings of what dangers can befall you in the world. Irregardless, of the perception and outlook of others. Including the desire, and need to conform to the expectations of the media, and a much wider, and more influential swath of not only the United States, but the World as well.

These lessons, this nuance, and its understandings, however nascent. Is the life blood of my proud American upbringing, and spirit. And is something, however plain and contemplative my existence would become, as I got older, and true friends, and friendship were hard to come by. Even within my own family. Is something, I would not, come to regret.