Monthly Archives: August 2013
My first stepmother was crazy. I say this with through a smile and a grimace, as there is a dichotomy in the practice of crazy. Crazy can really fuck you up and crazy is what makes life worth living. … Continue reading
In 1973 it was common to call Native American people Indians. We lived in Montana and demographics always included a large percentage of Native American families. In my stories I refer to Native American’s as Indians, because it holds true … Continue reading
Obviously I admire the artistic prowess of my family from a distance
Because my mother was in and out of sobriety and my father remained solidly out throughout our entire childhood, it was common that mom would schlep us off to Alateen so that we would have a clearer understanding of the … Continue reading
Artwork by my amazing son. I asked him draw a simple picture of two girls fighting, one on top of the other. He is not reading my posts.
This one is difficult. Living with our parents’ alcoholism and drug use was a real drag (definitely pulling my punches). The end result was a whole lot of abuse and neglect. I read somewhere that children of abuse grow up … Continue reading