I've been thinking of writing an autobiography or memoir but it just never comes together for me but I figured if I write one story at a time and post it on my blog maybe once a month, I can do that. Maybe one day I'll pull all the stories together and put them in a book but for now I'll just share some stories with you about my childhood. Some of the stories will be happy, some sad and some horrific because that was my childhood. But they will all be real, things that actually happened. If it seems like something that people enjoy reading maybe I'll keep it going. These stories will not be in any kind of order, I'll just write them as they come to me.
Why I don't like any drama around meal times
When I was a kid my mom cooked and had dinner ready by the time time my dad got home from work. That was just how my dad liked things so my mom would do that. On the weekends though my parents would drink heavily all day so by dinner time my brother and I knew to eat fast because the likelihood of our parents getting into a screaming match was pretty much 100%.
But my dad would do more than just yell. Oh it would start out yelling for whatever reason. They would get into arguments for the dumbest reasons and then it would escalate. Most nights on the weekends we would sit down to dinner, my mom and dad being in the living room on the couch and me and my brother at the kitchen table. Once my dad got really mad, he would throw his plate of food against the wall, take my mom's plate and throw it against the wall and start hitting her.
At that point my brother and I would get the dog, Poochie and run to the backyard. Because if Poochie started growling or barking at my dad while he was hitting my mom, my dad would beat the dog as well. So we stayed in the backyard until my mom would either come get us or we saw her sitting on the back steps. At that point we would go back in the house, get our plates of food and bring them out to the back steps and share our food with our mom so she had something to eat. I would go get seconds sometimes so she could eat more. We would all stay outside until my dad passed out on the couch or in their bedroom.
My brother and I learned to eat our food fast if we wanted something to eat especially on the weekends because we knew that the plates of food might get tossed against the wall if we said something out of line. We still eat fast, my brother faster than me because he got more abuse than I did from our dad.
My dad hit us kids as well. One time my dad beat me with a belt so severely on the back of my legs, butt and back that I had bruises, welt marks and could hardly walk for a few days. So my mom put a note on the door for her parents to see that said we were quarantined inside the house because I had Scarlet Fever. I never had scarlet fever but my mom didn't want her parents seeing me all bruised up. I missed a few days of school because of it too. My mom's mother, my grandma would leave bags of food on the front porch while my dad was driving a truck for Adohr Farms and was away for a few days making deliveries. My dad never even asked how I was when he got back. I learned early on to either stay in my room, outside or just keep my mouth shut around my dad.
My brother got hit and smacked all the time by my dad for dumb things like not being able to catch the football my dad would throw to him. I was 12 and my brother was 10 when my parents got divorced.
Links to past stories
2023
