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 Author Thread: My very own short strory.
 madisonphoenix
Joined: 4/7/2009
Msg: 1 (view)
 
My very own short strory.
Posted: 5/5/2009 1:15:09 PM
I don't remember much of my early childhood. I was born while my father was in Vietnam and a year later my sister was born. When my father returned from Vietnam he had the same problems as many others coming back from Vietnam; alcohol, drugs, and a depression from the things he had had seen or done. I don't know exactly what, but he was numbing himself from something. My parents were separated and then divorced shortly after his return. My mother told me only because I asked; that she was beaten, cheated on, and usually left on her own to raise us with little money.
I loved my father. He taught me a lot of good things; to respect my elders, love and respect to animals, and generosity. We often had people living with us. People were always coming and going. My Dad would give away his last dollar to someone in need without a second thought and worry abut the money he would need later. Finally my father never missed a visit with my sister and I. He was a drinker, but spent every minute he could with us kids and just drank while he did it. My father taught me some bad things too.

1979

My father was remarried. I guess I was about 8 or 9. Becky was my step-mother and I liked her enough, I guess. But she liked to drink also. Our days revolved around beer and smoking. My sister and I stayed at my fathers every other weekend and every Wednesday. The family would get up and go fishing. A case of beer usually lasted a while, but when the beer was gone, we were done fishing. Then we were off to the bars. We cruised to all the bars, you know the ones; out in the middle of nowhere, one after another, cruising in dads 1976 Trans am-driving 90 - 100 miles an hour. It was fun, like riding a roller coaster, taking 25 mile an hour turns at 65 and hitting those small hills at a 100-the ones that make you stomach go up in your throat and then come back down again taking your breath away. They would pass their small cigarettes back and forth the whole way and would usually start arguing about something, but I never knew what. I was just listening to our 8 track; rocking to Reo Speedwagon, Bad Company, or Sieger singing, Down on Main Street. We ate our suppers at those bars and always had enough quarters to keep little sister and me happy or we were playing pool: Dad and little sister against Becky and me. On our way home we were listening to Take the Long Way Home by Super Tramp.
I was very tired by the time we got home, but going directly to sleep was usually not an option. My little sister and I were stuck in the living room watching my step-mom slurring swear words at my father that would usually end up with my father slapping her or choking her saying, " I should just kill you" or "If I killed you I could be out of prison in 10 years". My father had a story of how he knew a man that killed his "****y" wife and only spent 10 years in jail. I never knew if that was true or not. When my dad got drunk he had a lot of stories. When he was drunk he would tell stories about Vietnam or about how crazy he could be. I remember thinking that this was an act, because no matter how crazy he acted he never touched my sister or me. He just wanted to keep some persona that he was a crazy Vietnam Vet and only did this when he was drunk.
I begged him to stop, not out loud but I was begging. I remember thinking I wish she would just shut up and he would stop. Why won't she just shut up? She didn't but somehow it would all end, to his day I can't remember how it ever did, but just remember waking up the next morning and it was like nothing even happened. My sister and I would be dropped off at my mothers on Sunday night and it was back to some normalcy for awhile.
 madisonphoenix
Joined: 4/7/2009
Msg: 2 (view)
 
A man recalls his life.
Posted: 5/5/2009 12:58:23 PM
I don't remember much of my early childhood. I was born while my father was in Vietnam and a year later my sister was born. When my father returned from Vietnam he had the same problems as many others coming back from Vietnam; alcohol, drugs, and a depression from the things he had had seen or done. I don't know exactly what, but he was numbing himself from something. My parents were separated and then divorced shortly after his return. My mother told me only because I asked; that she was beaten, cheated on, and usually left on her own to raise us with little money.
I loved my father. He taught me a lot of good things; to respect my elders, love and respect to animals, and generosity. We often had people living with us. People were always coming and going. My Dad would give away his last dollar to someone in need without a second thought and worry abut the money he would need later. Finally my father never missed a visit with my sister and I. He was a drinker, but spent every minute he could with us kids and just drank while he did it. My father taught me some bad things too.

1979

My father was remarried. I guess I was about 8 or 9. Becky was my step-mother and I liked her enough, I guess. But she liked to drink also. Our days revolved around beer and smoking. My sister and I stayed at my fathers every other weekend and every Wednesday. The family would get up and go fishing. A case of beer usually lasted a while, but when the beer was gone, we were done fishing. Then we were off to the bars. We cruised to all the bars, you know the ones; out in the middle of nowhere, one after another, cruising in dads 1976 Trans am-driving 90 - 100 miles an hour. It was fun, like riding a roller coaster, taking 25 mile an hour turns at 65 and hitting those small hills at a 100-the ones that make you stomach go up in your throat and then come back down again taking your breath away. They would pass their small cigarettes back and forth the whole way and would usually start arguing about something, but I never knew what. I was just listening to our 8 track; rocking to Reo Speedwagon, Bad Company, or Sieger singing, Down on Main Street. We ate our suppers at those bars and always had enough quarters to keep little sister and me happy or we were playing pool: Dad and little sister against Becky and me. On our way home we were listening to Take the Long Way Home by Super Tramp.
I was very tired by the time we got home, but going directly to sleep was usually not an option. My little sister and I were stuck in the living room watching my step-mom slurring swear words at my father that would usually end up with my father slapping her or choking her saying, " I should just kill you" or "If I killed you I could be out of prison in 10 years". My father had a story of how he knew a man that killed his "****y" wife and only spent 10 years in jail. I never knew if that was true or not. When my dad got drunk he had a lot of stories. When he was drunk he would tell stories about Vietnam or about how crazy he could be. I remember thinking that this was an act, because no matter how crazy he acted he never touched my sister or me. He just wanted to keep some persona that he was a crazy Vietnam Vet and only did this when he was drunk.
I begged him to stop, not out loud but I was begging. I remember thinking I wish she would just shut up and he would stop. Why won't she just shut up? She didn't but somehow it would all end, to his day I can't remember how it ever did, but just remember waking up the next morning and it was like nothing even happened. My sister and I would be dropped off at my mothers on Sunday night and it was back to some normalcy for awhile.
 madisonphoenix
Joined: 4/7/2009
Msg: 17 (view)
 
A man recalls his history.
Posted: 5/5/2009 12:49:26 PM
I don't remember much of my early childhood. I was born while my father was in Vietnam and a year later my sister was born. When my father returned from Vietnam he had the same problems as many others coming back from Vietnam; alcohol, drugs, and a depression from the things he had had seen or done. I don't know exactly what, but he was numbing himself from something. My parents were separated and then divorced shortly after his return. My mother told me only because I asked; that she was beaten, cheated on, and usually left on her own to raise us with little money.
I loved my father. He taught me a lot of good things; to respect my elders, love and respect to animals, and generosity. We often had people living with us. People were always coming and going. My Dad would give away his last dollar to someone in need without a second thought and worry abut the money he would need later. Finally my father never missed a visit with my sister and I. He was a drinker, but spent every minute he could with us kids and just drank while he did it. My father taught me some bad things too.

1979

My father was remarried. I guess I was about 8 or 9. Becky was my step-mother and I liked her enough, I guess. But she liked to drink also. Our days revolved around beer and smoking. My sister and I stayed at my fathers every other weekend and every Wednesday. The family would get up and go fishing. A case of beer usually lasted a while, but when the beer was gone, we were done fishing. Then we were off to the bars. We cruised to all the bars, you know the ones; out in the middle of nowhere, one after another, cruising in dads 1976 Trans am-driving 90 - 100 miles an hour. It was fun, like riding a roller coaster, taking 25 mile an hour turns at 65 and hitting those small hills at a 100-the ones that make you stomach go up in your throat and then come back down again taking your breath away. They would pass their small cigarettes back and forth the whole way and would usually start arguing about something, but I never knew what. I was just listening to our 8 track; rocking to Reo Speedwagon, Bad Company, or Sieger singing, Down on Main Street. We ate our suppers at those bars and always had enough quarters to keep little sister and me happy or we were playing pool: Dad and little sister against Becky and me. On our way home we were listening to Take the Long Way Home by Super Tramp.
I was very tired by the time we got home, but going directly to sleep was usually not an option. My little sister and I were stuck in the living room watching my step-mom slurring swear words at my father that would usually end up with my father slapping her or choking her saying, " I should just kill you" or "If I killed you I could be out of prison in 10 years". My father had a story of how he knew a man that killed his "****y" wife and only spent 10 years in jail. I never knew if that was true or not. When my dad got drunk he had a lot of stories. When he was drunk he would tell stories about Vietnam or about how crazy he could be. I remember thinking that this was an act, because no matter how crazy he acted he never touched my sister or me. He just wanted to keep some persona that he was a crazy Vietnam Vet and only did this when he was drunk.
I begged him to stop, not out loud but I was begging. I remember thinking I wish she would just shut up and he would stop. Why won't she just shut up? She didn't but somehow it would all end, to his day I can't remember how it ever did, but just remember waking up the next morning and it was like nothing even happened. My sister and I would be dropped off at my mothers on Sunday night and it was back to some normalcy for awhile.



 madisonphoenix
Joined: 4/7/2009
Msg: 222 (view)
 
Hello all,
Posted: 5/5/2009 11:58:54 AM
You can always view my profile to know more about me. Right now I am trying to figure out how to use the forums.
Scott
 
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