I was 15 years old, visiting my Dad in Edmonton Alberta during my high school Spring break in Washington State. Strangely He and I went on a shopping spree. Blue plaid suit, deep blue shirt and a white tie. The next day we got up early. Dad standing in front of me shirtless freshly shaven, … Continue reading “Day in Court”
I learned that you are dead. Although words say you have passed, your cruel deeds committed by you to me as a child still lingered for decades. You might have softened and treated your own children better than you treated your foster children. I had a condition you judged as a plea for attention. Rather … Continue reading The Obituary
Visited my Dad Gerald last night in a dream. Perhaps it was brought on after watching "Walk the Line". Dad admired Johnny Cash. Perhaps for his out reach to prisoners but I am sure for some of his wry lyrics in songs like I Got Stripes "On a Monday, My momma come to see me … Continue reading I Got Stripes
14 years old Your arm was around me You were my hero I noticed the strength in your arm I felt safe and loved The veins in your arm were pronounced, bulging, appearing to be at capacity of their designed function. I commented that your strength was that of a body builder. You responded that … Continue reading Veins
"Margie" As I type that name I want to scream! No words can describe the level of terror this woman woman inflicted on us 3 kids. Flash-bash, MidSixties, British Columbia, Canada: To memory, Margie first showed up on the scene in '67. We lived in a small house on a corner lot of St. Paul … Continue reading “Margie” Abuse or Discipline?
"I'll see you kids soon", famous last words as my dad was carted away for another stint in either drug rehab or "the joint". I was youngest of 3 kids, Danny, 3 years my senior and my sister 1.5 years older. I was in 2nd grade and North Bay Ontario was our current region of … Continue reading Foster “Care”
We all have a sad story but I believe we also have a story of hope if we can recognize the chains that bind us making us prisoners of our past, "sins"of our fathers, (sins in the sense that what we have learned from our parental figures(blood or not) that keep us from experiencing the grace … Continue reading Go Boy, Breaking Chains