Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Beer and the Butcher Knife

In those days when we went out to eat it was always in a beer bar or did we just happen to eat there because our parents were there drinking beer? Everybody drank lots of beer in those days. I hate the smell of beer to this day and have never tasted it. I always thought the beer was to blame for everything bad that happened. Like the time my Daddy chased Gene down the dirt street with a butcher knife in his hand or the times when Mother and Daddy would have those terrible screaming fights or when Daddy caught the couch on fire from his cigarette when he fell into a drunken stupor. One night at my aunt and uncle's house, Daddy smashed his fist right through a wall when there was an argument.

How scary for mom to be raised in an alcoholic and even violent family. She had to learn to grow up quickly and take care of herself because she couldn't count on her parents to do it. Her dad died when I was a baby, but her mother outlived her. I remember when we would have family get-togethers my grandma would drink too much beer, and mom would be so embarrassed by her behavior. She always got emotional and weepy when she drank too much.

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