A Banquet Or A Prison Cell?

It seems that in life there are people who love being in a family and there are those who wish they were orphans. Families are a funny thing. We all bring our own stories and our own memories to the table. Some of us feel as if we are seated at a banquet table sharing a sumptuous feast and some of us feel as if they are in a prison cell eating gruel and cold porridge.

My sister and I have always loved being in a family and sharing that special history that is unique to us. Thus this web site to help keep the memories alive: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Yes, I know that some of the memories are rather far from normal but that’s what makes our story unique and has given us such a wealth of material.

Harry HoudiniIn our family, we always try to see the good in our experiences. Baby strait jacket? How interesting that they had them in different sizes. Children on leashes? No wonder they have leash laws today. Being hit with switches? Better than being hit with a bat. Mother who hung out in bars? That taught us that alcohol can sometimes make a person happy. Temporarily happy, but with Mother that was better than nothing I suppose. Mother abusing pills? That taught us that pill popping can sometimes make a person (temporarily) happy. Mother engaging in secret food abuse? Taught us that food can sometimes make a person happy. Again, temporarily, but as children we took what we could get.

Bottle of Jack DanielsWell, you get the idea. Mother’s happiness was fleeting and always at the end of a bottle of booze or a bottle of pills or a buffet line. Her happiness was dependent on a chemically induced coma of sorts, whether from liquor or sugar or speed.

Our mother was not a family person. She loved to regale you with (made-up) family tales from the past but the present was foggy and disturbing to her. Too much family time was a curse and one she tried to avoid at all costs.

Our stepmother Beatrice also looked forward to kid-less days and counted the days until she would be free from the burden of the four of us. Little did she know, remember or acknowledge how important family was to Dad. No, we were never far from his thoughts and we made pilgrimages to our family home whenever possible.

Yes, my sister Abby, Dad and I are family people. Our time together was always special and we relished each moment. Mother and Stepmother were unable to dampen our spirits, although Lord knows they tried. Family first is our motto!

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