Sunday, June 20, 2010


my father was  a selfish mean drunk that beat my mom and would back hand you for most anything - children should be seen and not heard was his mantra - one night while punching my mom , my teenage older brother  tried to pull him off  and he beat him pretty bad , broke his jaw blacked his eyes.  - to stop him mom hit him with a ketchup bottle ( the  first thing if substance she saw)  this was around 1962 - he left and never came back - but so much damage was done - she  tried to leave for years but he went to the priest and the  priest made her take him back  saying she would be kicked out of the church if she  disobeyed.  I saw him stumbling drunk on the street once I was driving around with my friends as a teen, they laughed he was hanging onto a street sign so not to fall. I never told them  who it was . years later my closet brother and I made a relationship of sorts with him  he was old and had surgery and in  ill health it was a chore because he had control issues ans still cussed a lot , was a racist. and after some cruel remarks I avoided him again . the next time I saw him was in the hospital he had a stroke at a bingo game and  lost the game as he stood to curse out  "god damn , son of a bitch - he fell over. after that the only words he could utter were  " god damn , son of a bitch "  which meant  all things  how are you - are you hungry - do you need the nurse  all answered with  those words.
 he was in a nursing home for 5 years before he died of lung disease ( the reason he had surgery  he had 1/2 of one lung removed ) he worked all his life since his teens at the local glass factory.  everyone assumed it was job related .
I remember  when I was around 4 or 5 asking for something ( I can't remember what now something friends or family had ) but he sat me down and said the family was poor because I came along and it cost so much to take care  of me  that the family had to make do with being poor . looking back as an adult  I see how abusive he was  but then it was just how family was.  mom crying in the night  bruised  and pale in the morning,  I slept in a crib in their  room until we moved when I was 6 .  I can remember the smell of  booze breath  filling the room and the cries at night and the sounds - I would hold my ears -- if I had to go to the bathroom I just would wet in my bed - and scoot over so not to get in trouble until morning  which I did for  wetting the bed. . I got  hit often so I learned to be quiet around him..  I cried and cried at his funeral not because he was a good dad he was far from it.  but  a part of me always hoped and prayed he would snap out of it and call me princess instead of fat face -  and be proud of me  and turn into a dad like on father knows best .  with him dead  those dreams were gone too.
this was  harder to write than I thought .


  1. I think it was 1963 when mom and dad got divorced,that was after he broke our brothers jaw in three places. He was always able to convince people that anything wasn't his fault in 1952 he beat me so bad . they called to police,the doctor came to the house and the priest.I miss the whole month of Jan. from school. he was a mean drunk and a womanizer and a bad father . when i met my future husband he was better .he was.a bully but was afraid of a man who saw what he could do,growing up my brother that is 3 years younger and i would do our best to keep him from beating mom. there was no help back then for people like us. yes we were poor but it was because he would stop at the bars on payday and treat everyone there and buy things for his girl friends. a lot of bad memory's and the last time i saw him he was at the place mom worked and threating her with whathe was going to do to her .My husband told him what would happen if he brothered her again..he left and i never saw him again. it took me years to forgive him for the things he did to me growing up. he was never proud of me ,never tried to contact me although he knew where i lived . he never cared for anyone that was family

  2. From when I was just about 7 until I was about 14 I got to live in California. In Whittier and West Covina. Sounds Great until I tell you about my 1st Stepfather. Part of it was fun because it was a new adventure with my 2 brothers and my sister and out single Mom. Mom was a 2nd grade school teacher but it turns out that even with the 4 of us that she was lonely. But I was a kid and didn't know anything yet. She met a Car Salesman when she had to get a differant car when hers broke down. She started seeinf him, then he would stay over and thats when I first learned what a Drunk was. Yes he was a Drunk and not an Alcoholic because he would not get help. He would get home and take all but his underwear off and start drinking. If Mom was not home, we were in trouble, cussed at, yelled at and then the Stupid Haircuts started because he wouldn't pay for our hair cuts. If Mom was at home she was the Target and got hit several times in front of us. My older brother and I had had enough when one night they came home and he hit her and knocked her down. We told him to leave because if he went to sleep he would NEVEN wake up. We were going to beat him with out baseball bats until he would never be able to touch her again. The next day Mom pacted us up and we headed back to Ohio. He followed us to Ohio later but left when several men from town Reminded him that hey had things more hurtful than baseball bats.

  3. my sister is anonymous - she is 12 years older than me, my beautiful big sister. I guess she never knew how wonderful she was. I still think she is .