Tag: father

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Rev. Joe Goes to The Big House.

My folks would never have been in the running for the Ward and June Cleaver Parenting Award.  The reason they had children, let alone 5, is unclear to me.  It seemed then and seems now that they felt as long as we were fed, clothed, and a roof was over our head they had fulfilled their parental duties.  They were more involved with the youngest two.

For reasons I will not go into here, I was estranged from my father since I was 13. What few interactions we had were never pleasant, and occasionally they were violent.   Continue reading “Rev. Joe Goes to The Big House.”

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Every Time I Went to Kiss Her

When I was a young teenager my father had a hi-fi stereo, state of the art. We boys were not supposed to touch it, but of course we occasionally did. In my father’s LP collection was a comedy record that we had been explicitly charged with not listening to…under any circumstances. That ranks right up there with waving the old proverbial red handkerchief at “el Toro”, with telling Brett Favre he should retire, or Mt. Everest beaconing Sir Edmund Hillary. It became a challenge. I had to hear that comedy record. Continue reading “Every Time I Went to Kiss Her”

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Winter’s Bone

Winter’s Bone

I was curious when scanning the local theater offerings to find a movie that was not on my radar.  Reading the first few lines of the synopsis, I became curiouser and curiouser.  The film was shot in Southwest Missouri, directed by a woman and winner at Sundance.  My hubby, being of a good nature, often lets me drag him to the latest movie that I want to see.  But he does tend to like little known, artsy and foreign films.  We have an agreement that certain percentage of rentals must be in English.

Continue reading “Winter’s Bone”

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Sunday Morning Snobbery

I first noticed the father, a vaguely unkempt looking man picking out a bowling ball.  It was hard to tell his age, but I am guessing around mine, pushing 60.  His hair was all white, and he was bald on top.  A comb or brush would not have hurt his look.  He was dressed in a pair of black Rustler jeans and a black t-shirt that was a tad too short for him. 

imagesI then noticed his wife. She appeared to be at least 20 years his junior. She was obese enough that her belly had more than formed an apron.   Initially I thought she was Hispanic.  I shortly heard her say something, and it was classic Tennessee country.  Neither she nor her husband were ugly, but then again they were not particularly handsome.

Then the passel of kids came into focus.  There were a total of four.  The oldest, a boy, who never took down his sweatshirt hood, looked to be 12 or 13.   Continue reading “Sunday Morning Snobbery”

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Steak and Kidney Pie

steak-and-kidney-pieOne of my favorite stories about my mother involves Agatha Christie. When I was in high school she really enjoyed reading these mystery novels by the famed English author. Apparently, a popular dish in England and Agatha Christie’s novels is steak and kidney pie. My mother decided it sounded delicious, and one evening when my father was not going to be home for dinner she decided to make the dish. The fact that she waited until her husband was not going to be there will give the reader a clue as to what is coming next.

She found a recipe, and bought all the ingredients. I’m sure the steak and kidney were not cheap. She prepared the dish and put it before us unsuspecting guinea pigs, oops I mean boys. After a bite or two, none of us would eat anymore, and remember we were teenage boys aka bottomless pits. My mother became very upset, and began to cry. The funny part is after a bite or two of Agatha’s dish, she decide she did not want anymore either.

We never saw steak and kidney pie again.

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Red Heads and Lime Green VWs

When I think of  my Aunt Gayle I think of a big, lop-sided smile and red hair.  Her hair had been many colors through her life, but mostly it was red.  Folks who knew her called her a lady.  She always presented herself perfectly coiffed and perfectly dressed.  Her manners were in the same mode, but she was as earthy as my father was prudish.  I say earthy, but more in a matter of fact Mother Nature sort of way.  It was a refreshing combination.

Her online handle was Sewing Mama.   She had always sewn, but in the later part of her life she discovered quilting.   She was very good at it, and was widely acknowledged as being so.  She obviously enjoyed the process and the recognition. Continue reading “Red Heads and Lime Green VWs”

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Something to chew on…

 Scary truth about drugs and religion in the home

 Quoted from “Sexual Abuse in Christian Homes and Churches” by Carolyn Holderread Heggen:

A disturbing fact continues to surface in sex abuse research. The first best predictor of abuse is alcohol or drug addiction in the father. But the second best predictor is conservative religiosity, accompanied by parental belief in traditional male-female roles. This means that if you want to know which children are most likely to be sexually abused by their father, the second most significant clue is whether or not the parents belong to a conservative religious group with traditional role beliefs and rigid sexual attitudes. (Brown and Bohn, 1989; Finkelhor, 1986; Fortune, 1983; Goldstein et al, 1973; Van Leeuwen, 1990)