When Water Turns To Blood (A Very True Story) Part I

Father Son Night Beach

AS A CHILD… 

When I was growing up, in a suburb of, what I would call, a medium size city in the Midwest, life was pretty good.  It was the late 1970’s before I have any recollection of life.  I had two older siblings that were going out to Discos, yeah Discos for you young ones reading and following my blog, and the Bee Gees and KC and the Sunshine Band were ruling the FM bandwidth of the radio.  And yes 8-tracks really did exist along with vinyl 45 rpm and 33 rpm LP’s.  Bell Bottom jeans ruled fashion along with Butterfly Collars and Leisure Suits and no-one locked their front doors.  Hell, I don’t think we locked our front door until the early to mid 1980’s.  And Sundays was ALWAYS family dinner at our house!!! Mom was cooking EVERYTHING!!!  Fried Chicken with all the fixin’s, or we were grilling out… on a charcoal grill now, NO GAS GRILL.  There was Football or Baseball on or cards being played.  The kids, meaning me too, were running around while Gran chain smoked her cigarettes and I swear she could smoke an entire cigarette without ashing, wave her hands around and never drop her ashes… I mean isn’t that a world record or something???  I swear… life was good!  We were all in our comfort zones and we thought that everyone had it like that; we thought all families did the same thing and that every member of every family had a “real” mom and dad and brothers and sisters and cousins and… well, you get my point.

Then in, oh, I guess it was the 4th grade, I made my first friend that wasn’t living with their Mommy and Daddy… she was living with her “Grammy”.  I didn’t get it at all.  Why? Where was her Mommy and Daddy?  I remember asking my Dad and in his sweetness he said, “STAY THE HELL OUT OF IT AND I MEAN IT”!  Okay, that helped a lot… thanks Dad.  Of course I didn’t stay out of it, how could I?  After all I was the child who always asked the who’s, what’s, where’s and how’s of everything, even if it took hours.  He shoulda known better.  So, the next morning at school I asked my little friend why she was living with her Grammy and the truth of the world hit me smack dab in my face… BOOM!!!!  She told me that her Daddy beat her and her Mommy up all the time and her Mommy stuck needles in her arm for pain and people came an took her to her Grammy’s house to live.  Well, okay, I didn’t understand all of it, but I was done prying.  I did however ask my Mom about it and she told me that it was really bad what happened to my friend and she was very lucky to have her Grammy. Mom went on to tell me that I would have my “own” kids one day and I would be a “great parent and would raise my own kids wonderfully”.  That made me feel so much better.

Continue reading When Water Turns To Blood (A Very True Story) Part I