Hi, I'm Snazzy and I'm Trucker

Yep, Duck and Leannamarie, it's a wonder we all survived. Now a days it's referred to as dysfunctional family. Back then it was known as growing up. Yuck eatting worms and such. Worse trick my older sisters pulled was made me king for the day. They gave me a robe to wear and crown made of cardboard. My thrown was a beautiful chair with honeysuckle trim. I sat down and till this day I'm still picking thorns from my butt. They didn't mention the goathead stickers they'd mixed in. As far as a Boy named Sue, mine was about as bad. They named me Walter after my Grandpa, but liked calling me Rocky and the nickname stuck. Of course this was before Rocky and Bullwinkle came along. So ya'll can imagine the hits I took in school once the cartoons got popular. I survived and still answer to Rocky. Luckily I never had to name a son. But, if I had it woudn't of been Rocky, Sue, or Walter. Any way back to the rat killing. I guess I was about 10 years old when my Mom remarried. My stepdad was a Newyorker that ended up in Texas while in the Army. He had married a Texas girl and gone to work at General Dynamics. He ended up divorced and started his own small carpet cleaning business. Now don't get me wrong. My stepdad was decent man. He worked hard and was a good provider. Let me just say he had a hard life. He was orphaned at an early age and his dad was an alcohalic. I don't like any of the "ic" words. It means to become. It's really impossible to become alcohal. I'm sure folks have over used the term to death. Just sterotype and label a pereson an "ic". Drug addict, alcohalic, psychotic, etc.. It tends to sum up a human life in a split second. Surely there are cases that might be extreme. But, to label anyone who has some past of over indulgence, in some behavier that isn't, lets say acceptable. Give me a break. Anyway, my stepdad was the sort who consumed alcohal and at times became a bit surly. He'd become loud and have mood swings. Never was too violent but more then once scared the hell out of my mom and us kids. He'd sober up and feel guilty. Then things would go smoothly for months or years. He was the only father I knew and I just grew up thinking that this was all normal. I'm not to sure it isn't. Nobody is perfect. Some families fair better than others. I can't stomach the head shaking professionals that feel your pain. It's called life. Take the good with the bad. In other words get over it. If you can't, then you can't. In my opinion no amount of flapping your gums to some paid head shaker is going to cure you. Of course don't stop your therapy based on my say so. Lets take a break.

 

First, thanks Raindancer and Scarecrow for the Welcome. I feel off my soapbox and now it's time to move on. We moved out of Grandpa's mansion and ended up in a nice home not far from the schools we attended. This was around 1960. The world was a different place back then. Kids rode bikes and T.V was a family event. No computers, microwaves, and most homes used water coolers. The rich folks knew about central air and some of the movie houses. People were patriotic and we pledged to the flag and even heard a prayer over the school innercom. Boys wore crewcuts with rolled up jeans and girls wore pigtails and skirts. Men were head of the household and woman knew there place. The really bad guys wore ducktails and rolled up smokes in their t-shirt sleeves. A tatoo meant you were a navy veteran or an ex-con. To see a minority you had to leave your neighborhood and venture across the tracks. On the bus rides all the blacks sat behind the whites. All the schools were either white or black. Doctors made housecalls and a policeman had respect. A girl in trouble just disappeared and the matter was dropped. Even though no one believed she had to go take care of an aunt in upstate wherever. Getting high was done with coke and asprins. Bums were beggers,folks handed them change, but reminded the kids that if they didn't work it could happen to them. The stock market was the slaughter house where the cows were butchered. Kids were smacked when they misbehaved and rewarded with candy for being good. If a child went missing the whole neighborhood joined in. Everyone on the block knew everyonelse. Houses had porches where folks would gather for homemade icecream or fresh slices of watermellon. The corner drug store sold sodas and magazines. The teachers taught and kids learned. The principal and coaches swung a mean paddle. Kids were scared to skip school and parents went to PTA meets. If you skipped church on Sunday you waited till after services before mowing your yard. That way no one would know that you were hell bound. You couldn't purchase much on Sunday because of the blue-law. Anything that was fun, for work, or pleasure was taboo to buy on a Sunday. Jobs were plentifull and workers took pride. Now, remember I'm just describing how I recall it. I'm sure many others have different memories good or bad. Some of ya'll can't recall it cause you hadn't been born yet. We'll leave it here for now and pickup tomorrow.