Biography
"There are many worlds but they share the same sky--one sky, one destiny"-Kingdom Hearts. In this series the protagonist, Sora, visits different worlds. Though I've never left Earth, I've lived in many worlds. I've shacked up in over a handful of foster homes, and I've switched school about seventeen times. Each new home had different rules, cultures, and customs.
I became an expert traveler. I could make friends anywhere, but I lacked the social skills to keep them. Sometimes, my lack of social skills -along with my lucky genetics for being the shortest kid in my grade-made me a target. In second grade, I remember coming home every day with bruises from getting beat up in the after school program. It was okay, I reasoned, because I could take it. If I was the one being hit, someone else didn't have to suffer.
Eventually, I met a family who adopted me, and was introduced to yet another new world. For the first time in my life, I had a father figure who was supportive and believed that my opinions mattered. With this newfound validation and backing, I was able to pursue my passion for performance. Ultimately, I was offered a one-year contract with an agent, provided we would move to Los Angeles.
My parents chose to leave their house, move their lives, and support me while I followed my dreams. The confidence that I've gained from them has been invaluable. My parents not only taught me how to work hard to turn a dream into a reality, but how to use every resource that I have to help others in the process.
Living among these worlds has taught me a number of lessons: there are no one-sided stories, there is seldom only one "right way" to do things, there is rarely a definite right or wrong, we fear judgment- but in acceptance we are supported. In our many worlds, we all share one sky; we've got more in common than we think. I've realized I want the best - not only for myself, but for my friends, my family...for everyone.
...
Everyone has a pivotal moment in their personal history they credit for defining their entire essence as a human being. Mine was the last time I saw my mom.
Police pulled up outside, sirens screaming. My mother yanked me into the closet and desperately slid the door closed. She took my hands in hers, looked me in the eyes, and whispered that she "would never leave me," that "family sticks together, and they don't tell lies." She choked as she said "Jeremy. Don't trust people-," but she caught herself in the lie. With a shaky breath she continued, "Not even me. I-..." but she was silenced by the shouts of the police, their boots slamming against the door. They stormed into the room, flung the closet door to the side, and yelled out their protocol.
Except for the shaking I felt through our clasped hands, she wouldn't move. Despite the tears that streamed down her face, her eyes were fixed on mine. It was as if she was trying to hold on to that moment-trying to anchor us to that place in time, to stay as long as she could. But the harder she tried, the more difficult it was for her to look me in the eyes and convince herself that the love she felt for me could make up for the guilt she harbored for abandoning me again and again. That guilt fell heavy in the space between us; her hands slipped from mine. Her last word to me was, "'Ohana."
That word she uttered - 'ohana - means family. We learned it from the movie Lilo & Stitch - the only movie my mother was ever able to afford to gift me with. For the characters, 'ohana means "No one is left behind." During the dark period of my life that followed, I dismissed her final word as another empty promise. She made that promise not to abandon me just before disappearing from my life, so I clung to the rest of her advice instead - trust no one. At the time, it made more sense. Everyone lies. Everyone leaves.
But that wasn't the end of my story. As I matured, I came to see a deeper purpose behind that word. Instead of mistrust and deception, I chose to practice acceptance. If the fear of abandonment drove me, then I reasoned it might be driving others as well. So instead of turning my back on others out of apprehension, I chose to stick with them, regardless if others labeled them "sick," "poor," or even "perfect." I chose to craft my own future with optimism and strength...to practice 'ohana in the way I chose to understand its meaning.
...
My life before being a father used to be divided neatly in half: before adoption and after adoption.
I began in a metal trailer with a leaning broken wire fence and a red dirt front lawn somewhere in Sylmar Los Angeles. Before my adoption, I switched between foster homes and my biological mother. This resulted in many different classrooms and different curriculum, none of which were synchronized, creating an educational situation that was just as unstable as my home life. No one really had time to assess the growing cracks in my education, no one really took the time to address the areas where I was falling behind, and no one bothered to impart to me that an education was a vitally important thing to have.
When I was fourteen, my mother was murdered. I contacted the reporter who wrote her story. I found out a woman who was not my aunt, biologically, but who my mom had thought was her sister had also been in contact. This woman sent me my sole inheritance; pictures of my biological mother, only a few of which included me, and a series of letters that my mother had written to her.
I found out she used to work for Warner Brother Studios and was a singer at Universal. She dated SuperBoy, Gerard Christopher in 1989, and she was apparently friends with Whoopi Goldberg during their time on Strong Medicine. The text of these letters confirmed what I'd suspected - that my mother hadn't had an education any better than mine. At twenty-seven, she was functionally illiterate. This gave me a better understanding regarding why my education was so lacking during those vital early years.
The second half of my life began when I was adopted at age nine. I still remember the wonder I felt when I even pulled into the neighborhood. My first time at a gated community. I walked in the house and I was completely overwhelmed by the absolute grandeur. The living room had two stories. The backyard had an ocean and a boat. But more so than the luxury was the insistence on studying.
For the first time, the value of education was pressed upon me. These new lessons included daily fluency courses where my parents would time how long it took me to read an excerpt of text. One excerpt a week, timed, 5 times a week. I also had an entire game room and library of books.
I was the bad kid who would stay up late. You know, the bad kid using their nightlight in the corner of the room to read. That kid. That was me. But could you blame me?? It was a completely new world to me. And I was fascinated.
I realized that my lack of early literacy education hadn't equipped me with a proper knowledge of grammar. I've spent many hours working to reverse the effects of my early non-education. Additionally, as a student with a 504 status Learning Disability, I've had to work very hard to accomplish certain tasks.
I was ecstatic to learn I was admitted to Los Angeles High School for the Arts. Because of my participation in a boy band at 17, I went to OFY to accommodate my busy schedule.
During this time I began writing scripts. Something my first year teacher Jeremy Guskin said had stuck with me on my way to graduating: "You want to be seen? Don't wait to be cast. Start writing your own material." By the time I left for college in I had been at the helm of four self-made productions. I don't really count directing a short for my church out of fifth grade because it's cringe, but I guess you could say that was my first directing credit, which would make the total five by this point.
My past has not always been easy, but learning to rise above and overcome the challenges put before me has taught me invaluable lessons. I use these lessons each day now as a father.
In 2018 I became a father at the early age of 21. My, now fiancée, Ariana Parker, gave birth to a 6IB baby boy. A shorty like his dad, we named him Ezra Jeremiah Herzig. A year after his birth I finished drafting my first book.
I completed my first book My Heroine Mother in 2019. It is a farewell letter to my mom, Chandra Nobles, or Chandra Moore as I knew her. My book details my processing of foster care, adoption, and my goodbye.
I was always planning on coming back to Los Angeles, but decided to extend my hiatus to care for my family.
