Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Drinking and Violence


The last three Wednesdays I’ve posted stories that truly were a “downer.” They weren’t easy for me to write, nor, I suspect, were they easy for you to read. My posting for today and for next Wednesday will also be sad, but I want to include in this on-line memoir the stories that reveal why I never married and why I lived in fear for much of my life.
         If this five-part segment disturbs you, please ignore this and next week’s posting and return on February 27 when I’ll begin to post two or three stories that, I hope, will have you chuckling.
         Let us begin: When drinking hard liquor, Dad became an angry and sometimes violent drunk. I was seven and my little brother four, when Dad tried to kill our mother.
         As a result, until I was eighteen and left home, I hid all the sharp kitchen knives, the hammer, and the axe each time my father got drunk. At least two, if not three, times a week, he’d stop after work at the Do Drop Inn in Sugar Creek or Sam’s Bar in Independence and drink until he became a danger on the road to others and to himself.


A bar, similar to Sam’s Bar, in Louisiana. (From Wikipedia)

         Mostly he drank beer, but every so often—maybe once a year—he’d drink the hard stuff.  Then scary things could happen. After the terrifying scene in May 1943—when he tried to kill MomI remember nothing violent happening until the summer of 1947.
         Well, once during that time he almost burned the house down after falling asleep and dropping a lit cigarette on the couch. Sometime during the night, smoke woke Mom. She managed to lug Dad off the couch while my brother and I rushed outside to pump water to throw on the smoldering cushions.
         Mostly, though, on those nights he came home drunk, disturbing sounds filled the house: of loud arguments between a drunken father and a weary and disillusioned mother, of Dad snoring after he collapsed on his bed in a stupor, of Mom slapping down one solitaire card onto another on her playing board.
         However, one summer evening in 1947, when I was eleven and my brother eight, Dad became violent again. He and Mom had an angry shouting match in the front room where my brother and I huddled on the couch. Suddenly Dad reached forward, grabbed hold of the neckline of Mom’s dress, and ripped it open. He proceeded to strip her bare. While he tore all the clothes off of her, Mother stood still. When I think of the look on her face, the words that come to me today are defiant. Imperious. Regal.
         After stripping Mom, Dad shoved her into their bedroom. No door, just a curtain, separated the room from the hall. I heard someone plop on the bed and Dad’s slurred words as he continued shouting names at Mom.
         Terrifying new sounds issued from that bedroom. My brother cried; I held him close, crooning Cole Porter songs I’d learned from Mom who sang her way through the day. I trembled because Dad was hurting Mom and I didn’t know how to help. I just sang louder so my brother wouldn’t hear. At the time, I didn’t know the word rape, nor did I know what it was.         
         At some point, all I could hear was my brother’s sobs and the words coming from my mouth. Then I heard snoring. Then Mom emerged from her bedroom, wearing a housecoat. She told us she was going to wash up and not to come into the kitchen. I heard her heating water and then pouring it into the basin. Finally I heard the slap of a wet washcloth. All this puzzled me because normally we washed in the morning.
         Afterward, she came into the living room and settled in her easy chair to play a game of solitaire. Nothing was said. No explanation. Life went on. 


Postscript: Today the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Content published its list of those “pitches” that propelled authors into the second round of the competition. My name wasn’t on the list. I feel a little down because of this but there’s always tomorrow! Peace.

63 comments:

  1. All I can say is bless "our" hearts. We lived in the times when most of these things were not talked about. Sad... I must add, that we went to Saturday evening confession and then all was well again!!! Unless dad went out drinking after confession... He was a stickler for confessions and Sunday mass. I saw/wondered about this "contradiction" even as a small child.

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    1. Dear Turquoisemoon, like you I wondered a lot about things when I was growing up. Several times, I begged my mom to leave my dad--even though we were Catholics. But she was fearful that she wouldn't be able to find a job to support us.
      Women were in a horrible boxed bind then. And many still are. Peace.

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  2. You should have been on that list, Dee. You're an amazing writer. I have always wondered if times were more genteel in the past or things just didn't get talked about as much. Thank you for pulling back the curtain on that time. "Mom slapping down one solitaire card onto another on her playing board."...my mom did that too. Sadness to it.

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    1. Dear Therese, I think that things just didn't get talked about as much. No talk shows. No articles in magazines. Few headlines. I think a lot of moms played solitaire then. Peace.

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  3. Dee, again I say, how very brave you are to relive this this time and put it all to words. Your mom sounds like woman I really wish I had known. Alcohol does such irreparable damage, especially when it's sword is wielded on children.

    Did your dad ever have remorse when he came out of a binge? I'm so sorry you've had to go through such hurtful things. But in the crucible of all that which was awful, you've become a wonderful person of peace and love.

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    1. Dear Shelly, I don't remember my dad ever expressing sorrow or regret to me. Perhaps he did to Mom. Many years later I told him what his drinking had done to my life and he simply refused to accept that. Peace.

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  4. I am continually amazed that you managed to live that life and see all that you saw without becoming bitter and hateful. While you may have remained fearful, you never lost that spark of compassion. That you don't express vitriol for your father or disdain for your mother in the face of all they showed to you is a true testament to the special qualities you have. Or perhaps you did feel (and express) those things at one time, but you have certainly come full circle. I am so sorry that you had those experiences, but I do admire your willingness to share them with others devoid of destructive emotion.

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    1. Dear Kario, I am blessed in that I've had the means to seek out professional help to work through all this. In some of the comments left for these recent postings, fellow bloggers have expressed admiration for my courage in telling these stories. But the truth is that I told them a number of years ago to psychiatrists and they helped me come to peace with my life and with my dad and others who had a big influence on my life. I don't feel anger or even much regret for all this. I have somehow been blessed with an ability to find good in things. That has served me well and I believe that I learned that trait from my mother. Peace.

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  5. Ah, yes. My mother played a lot of solitaire too. I played with her sometimes.

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    1. Dear Linda, a lot of solitaire and a lot of singing--that's what my mom did. Yours and mine both learned to cope. But oh, I often wonder what my mom's life could have been like. Peace.

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  6. Your childhood left such terrible scars, I get both teary-eyed and furious thinking of you hiding sharp objects from your drunk dad your entire young life. Your compassionate large heart must be the other side of this scarred coin. Without marriage and children, you still created a life for yourself, filled with caring, love, study, knowledge, and eventually, peace. Sending hugs to you.

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    1. Dear Inger, thank you for the hugs on this Valentine's Day. Peace.

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  7. Sending hugs your way, too. I am so sorry you didn't make it onto the next round of competition. It's one reason I don't put myself out there, I get very disappointed. I am hoping that those callouses you have from your childhood help! You are a very brave and compassionate person, Dee. I'm proud to know you.

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    1. Dear DJan, my pitch not being selected is disappointing. But you know I truly didn't have my hopes high. I'd need a judge or judges who liked historical fiction and lots of people don't--judges included! Also, the judge would need to be interested in first-century Palestine!!!! So that's asking a lot. But I'm going to continue to work on the Bronze Age Greece book--despite it being a historical novel that takes place in the 13th century BCE. I just like to do research and that period fascinates me. So I won't be entering the Amazon contest next year!!!! Peace.

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  8. Some people have terrible childhood experiences and become angry, cruel adults. And then there are people such as you, who become exceptionally kind and compassionate. I'm not sure what makes the difference. Perhaps it's that you had a mother who loved you and who made the best of what she had, but I think intelligence and a creative mind come into play, too. I'm sorry you weren't on the list.

    Love,
    Janie

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    1. Dear Janie, thank you for your kind words about my mother and about me. For much of my life I didn't feel particularly intelligent, but I've come to realize that my mind is pretty good! It's served me well. Peace.

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  9. As far as writing about "downers," there may be days that I(or anyone) stay at a distance from them because of something going on personally, but in general I think all parts of life need to be discussed. Hiding "downers" can turn them collectively into a real pathology. My friends, even my blog friends, don't have to be UP to warrant my attention.

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    1. Dear Mary, I agree with you about all parts of our lives needing to be examined and discussed. But I wonder if fellow bloggers really want to come for five weeks in a row to depressing old news. I find myself amazed at the generosity of comments left here and on the past three postings. Readers/comment-ors are so good to me. And I appreciate your saying that your blog friends don't need to be UP all the time. Thank you. Peace.

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  10. Such terrible things for a young girl to endure.....I can see why you never married. But I'm sorry you never had a kind and gentle man to love you and show you that it can be so very different.

    My FIL, who was a sweet drunk, almost burned the house down the same way......I lived with them at the time and came downstairs to get my baby a bottle and saw the glow. I woke him and he put the cigarette out.....I was vigilant from that day on, scared to be upstairs in a wooden house.

    I'm sorry you weren't on that list.

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    1. Dear Nancy, maybe in some past life or in a future one I'll find that "kind and gentle man" whom I can love and who will love me. In this life I have been blessed with so many good friends whose love and support has made everything possible.

      I'm sorry not to be on the list also, but as "Annie" says, "the sun will come up tomorrow!!!" Peace.

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  11. You are always #1 on my list!! It amazes me that you had the childhood you had & became a soul full of peace!

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    1. Dear Fishducky, thank you. You know I think we all have stories of hard times. What's gotten me through has always been friends. I hope to tell about one of those childhood friends in my February 27th posting. Peace.

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  12. Thank you for what you've shared and will share. I echo the commenters who appreciate your honesty; you write in such a way that it's safe to read about your life, the good and bad. As for the contest, I relate very well, having sent out my writings for more than two decades. Once in a while the response is what I'd hoped for, but very often (just yesterday, in fact), there comes the other sort of news. Somehow, I continue to say, as well, there's always tomorrow. Your writing deserves more notice, Dee, and I hope it comes soon.

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    1. Dear Deanna, thank you for the words of support about my writing. I hope you know that I support you in your writing also. Your postings are often so evocative and they always leave me pondering the big questions of life. They, too, deserve more notice. Peace.

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  13. I also meant to add, Dee, that I am truly sorry you weren't on that list. To me, though, that just means better opportunities are in the wings~

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    1. Dear Shelly, yes, better opportunities in the wings!!! I'm going to start looking for an agent. I'll write about this on my other blog. The writing blog. Peace.

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  14. Ah yes! The Demon Dhrink they call it in Ireland.
    It's a rare family doesn't suffer in some way because of it. Do you know what it was that drove your father to drink so much? I've read that when people abuse alcohol they're using it to numb some kind of pain....Not that that in any way excuses a man for mistreating and humiliating his wife as he and so many others do. And his unfortunate children. You've certainly been through the fire....Pity you weren't on that list.

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    1. Dear Molly, yes, the Demon Drink. Do they spell it "Dhrink" in Ireland? I'd love to hear the Irish say those two words together. I bet just the sound epitomizes the whole of the problem.

      I think I do know what made Dad drink as it did. It was his mother's emasculation of him. She was a tyrant of a woman much of the time. And nothing and no one was ever good enough.

      Of course Dad could have matured and not needed drink, but he was a weak man in many ways. And yet, I always knew he loved us. But that didn't seem nearly enough when I was a child. I wanted to feel safe. And I wanted my mother and brother to be safe and I didn't feel we were with him. Peace.

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  15. Sometimes in life, for unknown reasons, these horrific times come back to haunt us. I know where you and your mother come from. I was not the child in this story, but I have been the mother.. The hardest part about these times is that back then, there was no such thing as talking about it. There was no being loved and comforted.It was a dark secret in the house. Some, will turn right away from their Faith at that time, but I have turned more strongly to Jesus. I recognize that the evil to perform cruel acts comes from Satan, not from God... We have good and evil in this world, we can turn our scars into stars, or we can choose to disconnect. For a time after I came out of that 29yr marriage, I couldn't go near a church. I became a promiscuous woman, and had a few affairs. I even turned to New Age, I wanted to see into the future, I wanted answers..
    All I did was feel lost, until I turned back to God, who has been my soothing balm. He is the creator of the Universe and when we come under His wings, He gives the insight and understanding of WHY.. Now I am almost seventy. I have two sisters, both a good few years older than I. They have had good settled marriages, and they are nice people. BUT, they don't have the tolerance, compassion or kindness towards others that I have been told often, I possess. So for this I am thankful for my experiences. And I am thankful I have become Better, not Bitter as I once heard a Pastor explain. Much love sent to you today...with a hug.

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    1. Dear Crystal, isn't there some saying about "that which doesn't kill you can strengthen you"???? I don't know but something like that niggles my mind as I read your comment. What happened to you ultimately gifted you with compassion.

      It's all mystery to me why that happens for some and not for others. Mom always used to say, "Dolores, you find what you look for. If you look for good, you will find it. And if you look for bad, you will surely find that also." So I've always tried to find some good out of every experience. But sometimes finding that good takes years! Peace.

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  16. Your a survival poster child Dee.

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    1. Dear Pam, thank you for your kind words. I think so many of us--maybe all of us--are "survival poster" children. Peace.

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  17. I am so sorry you didn't make the list but I hope that only stiffens your resolve. All the successful writers had to suffer MANY rejections and set backs. Those that succeed keep plugging away.
    Your childhood was extremely painful but instead of making you a lesser person as it easily could have, it somehow strengthened you so that you could become a person who chose to help others. If I wore a hat, it would be off to you.

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    1. Dear Arkansas Patti, Yes, I just need to keep plugging away. The thing for me is that I'm 76--I'll be 77 in a little over a month--and time seems so fleeting. And I can feel myself wanting to get things written and published before I die. It's the writer's curse!!! Wanting to communicate. And to find truths together. Peace.

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  18. Dee,
    You are so brave and strong, kind beyond words, good in every sense of the meaning . . . I'm so blessed to know you.

    I'm praying that your manuscript will find the perfect road to publication. Maybe this is the best time to query agents.

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    1. Dear Elisa, yes, I'm going to start querying agents. I'll post about that on my other blog--the writing one. Thank you for your words. Peace.

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  19. You are describing my life..Except my (dad) he didn't drink..Are punishment came from the end of a belt with a big buckel..I'm so glad you are able to write about this..I think by reading your stories i am learning to let a few feelings go.Than you Dee..It's been a long hard battle..

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    1. Dear Karlene, thank you for telling me that these stories help you. No one could ask for more from his or her writing than to reach out and somehow help another human being. To touch another's life. That is what Oneness is all about.

      I hate to think of you being hit with that belt and that buckle. Oh, the pain of it. The sting.

      Peace.

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  20. Dee, Sorry your name missed the list. But it will come.
    I doubt if there was AA back then either. That would have been a comfort for your Mother. Women also took a lot more abuse because there was no awareness of this and if there had been, courts always favored the man. Strange but delicate times.

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    1. Dear Manzanita, I'm not sure when AA started. But I never heard the term when I was a child. The times were different from now and yet we both know that today there's just as much drinking and just as much emotional and sexual violence toward women. Your last sentence made me pause and really think. And I think that the word "delicate" is so apt for those times. Thank you for sharing that word and that realization with me. Peace.

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  21. Well, you top MY list of talented writer, Dee. What a sad, horrific story -- the terror and depression seeping down through generations. I can well understand why you didn't marry and why life must feel much safer on your own. How heartbreaking, though, that one man's unhappy choices would so impact your life -- though not your faith. My brother and I spent much of our childhood hiding our father's gun -- in the face of his constant threats to kill us -- and so I understand the urgency of your hiding the knives and anything else sharp. Makes one want to reach through time and give those frightened, super-responsible children a big hug and reassurance that all will be well.

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    1. Dear Kathy, I read your last sentence and knew that you really understood what happens when we come out on the other side of all this. I often think of that little girl and the drinking and the molestation by the neighbor and I, too, want to hug her and tell her that she did so well. She was so strong. She and her memories are dear to me. Peace.

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  22. It is a tragedy that so many lives have been so broken by the taboos of the past -- women were expected to stay with their marriages no matter what the provocation, and men were taught that theirs was the world to rule. Even now it breaks my heart to hear of the injustices that we humans bestow on one another through ignorance and intolerance. We all have demons of one sort or another, but drink is one of the best ways to feed those demons that destroy and or batter many other lives besides. Your mother was the most amazing of women, but one can't help but wish she had some other choices open to her.

    I have to say that as far as 1st century Palestine -- a novel about that I'd read in a flash! That's right up my street...

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    1. Dear Broad, like you, I so wish Mom had other choices. But the life of women at that time was such that few avenues of escape were open to them. And we were Roman Catholics besides and that meant--no divorce under pain of mortal sin! She had such a fine mind and could have held down an important job but she never felt that she'd be able to find work to support her children if she left Dad.

      And the tragedy of all this is that the whole thing continues for many women today, caught in situations from which they cannot extricate themselves either because of their own fears or because of real physical abuse and lack of opportunity and money. And so many other reasons. Peace.

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  23. Your mother was an astonishingly strong and courageous woman, Dee, to try so hard to shield you and your brother from the truth of her life with your father. I'm not surprsied such experiences left scars which prevented you from making close relationships with men. Yet you too have been strong and courageous enough to surmount thiose things and not let them blunt your compassion and humanity.

    So sorry your novel didn't make it through to the next round, but very well done for trying. Perhaps self-publication as an e-book may be thee way forward for you?

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    1. Dear Perpetua, Mom was, I think, an exceptional human being. When I came out of the convent, I was angry with her because she'd never left Dad and she'd kept us in the house with those problems. She died 1 1/2 years after I left the convent and I still hadn't forgiven her. It took counseling to find my way. I hope she knows now how much I love and admire her. And respect her. Peace.

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  24. Oh Dee. I am so sorry. Sorry for the fear that you and your mother and brother experienced, and sorry for the impact it continued to have on your life. I also feel pity for your father. I am the child of an alcoholic myself - but it was my mother. For many years she was the woman I aspired to become, and then she became the woman I was/am terrified I will become. Alcohol is a drug with a great deal more power than many know. Ripples in a pond.

    I am also very, very sorry that your pitch did not succeed. This time.

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    1. Dear EC, I can understand being terrified that you will become like your mom and rely on drink. I, too, used to think that I'd be like my dad. The thing about the drinking is that I early on--right after leaving the convent--discovered that I was allergic to alcohol and so I truly can't drink. But I worried that I'd be weak as he was with regard to taking hold of life and to being honest with myself about my problems. I hope that both of us will trust ourselves, deep down, to be our best selves. Peace.

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  25. Dee, Once more I'm in awe of your mother. So often as you share about her I feel that I have constructed a picture in my mind of what she looked like as a young woman in an era where she wouldn't have believed she had any options but to endure. And endure she did. She was amazingly strong in spirit, and you, in turn, were strong also. You wouldn't have had the words or concept to understand rape, but you knew she was being harmed, and protected your little brother. I'm so touched that you share so personally, Dee. It means you trust us, and you surely can!

    I'm also so sorry about the pitch. But you're so right...this was only one source for publishing. You are a talented and dedicated writer. There will undoubtedly be new opportunities. oxo Debra http://www.breathelighter.wordpress.com (I'm still having trouble leaving comments. LOL! )

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    1. Dear Debra, thank you once again for your kind and thoughtful words about Mom and about me also. I do trust my story to all of you who read these postings because you all give me so much support and you seem to understand my need to share these stories in the hope that they will touch some one somewhere.

      Peace.

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  26. My days have been a bit of a muddle, Dee, so it is taking me longer to get to you on this post, which I did read the other day when you first posted it. It left me feeling so sad for what you and your brother saw and for how it robbed you of so many things that can't be bought, like feeling safe around men. I'm so sorry. It also made me feel sad as that, while times have changed and there are more options now for women, this still happens. It is a good thing you had those Cole Porter songs to help your through and give you some inner strength to help your little brother.

    Sorry your didn't make it to another round. You are the best, Dee. Keep on!

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    1. Dear Penny, yes, this still happens to so many women and so many children. It is a human tragedy of great proportions. The one good thing is that because of Mom's love and strength and her endurance and general response to life, both my brother and myself are, I believe, people of compassion. Peace.

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  27. I lead such a happy childhood- I can not imagine the honorers you and your Mon endured Dee

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    1. Dear Pam, I am glad to know that your childhood was happy. I wonder is your delightful whimsy comes from that. Peace.

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  28. OH My.... As much as I have gone through in my life, I NEVER went through anything like you did. My parents never drank any kind of alcohol... That is probably why I have never drunk much alcohol either. My sin was over-eating! OH Well...

    Again, I am so sorry for what you have been through. BUT-you obviously came out in the positive side... Look at that beautiful home you live in.... That is awesome...

    We've been in Arkansas for a week--enjoying life on the mountain.
    Hugs,
    Betsy

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    1. Dear Betsy, my gratitude journal, in which I write five things each night that I am grateful for that day helps me know just how blessed my life is. I'm so glad to get word from you that Arkansas is really being enjoyable! Peace.

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  29. Oh my goodness Dee I cannot imagine what you went through every time your Dad came home drunk... Whew.
    You explained in a comment that your father drank because he was never good enough as far as his mother was concerned. How very sad that he would take his frustration out on his wife and children. I have so much respect for your compassion and understanding because you could've passed on the drunken violence but you didn't! (What about your brother? Did he manage to avoid drink?)

    I'm also really disappointed that you didn't make the list. But glad to see its not stopping your words.

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    1. Dear Rose, my brother seldom drinks and then mostly beer. Every so often he has whiskey and I've noticed that it affects him much more than the beer. I think that he, too, is allergic to alcohol, just as I am (literally). I also know that he is careful about drinking. Both of us learned from watching Dad. Peace.

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  30. At 11 I did not have a clue either until after the fact and it was my father who helped my to recover from that horrible first act against an innocent girl. But I never had to endure violence that you describe, just the drunkenness of a mom and het lit cigs!

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    1. Dear Heidrun, you had plenty to endure. And you survived! That is the miracle. Peace.

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  31. Dear Heidrun, I truly am sorry for the terror in which you lived. It's a wonder that we grow out of these things and can be caring, loving individuals. It's my mom who taught me what I know about caring. She was a great blessing in my life. Peace.

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  32. I'm so sorry Dee. What a sweet little girl you were, trying to protect your brother throughout it all.

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    1. Dear MIchelle, I keep thinking I must protect my brother even now--when he's 73 and I'm 76!!!! I have to pull myself up short and realize that he is a mature adult. And so I offer him my love and my support whenever he chooses to ask for it. Peace.

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