THE HIGHWAY ACCIDENT
My parents bought a shitty fixer upper house out in the middle of nowhere when I was 9 years old. The year was 1962. The house had electricity but no running water or indoor plumbing. We were expecting the FOURTH child, my brother. The house had only two bedrooms and was heated by an oil space heater in the middle of the living room. The entire area of the "bungalow" was about 550 sq ft. I guess we were poor, but I had a reel to reel tape recorder and heard The Beatles on the radio for the first time. I recorded the music from the radio and could listen whenever I wanted. We had a very long driveway at that country house and my father taught me how to drive when I was 10 years old. I had a burning desire to drive a car and he couldn't say no. I already knew how to drive from watching my father quite closely when we were in the car. When I became proficient at driving, he let me take the car up and down the driveway all by myself. That was an excellent boost to my confidence at 10 years of age!
There was a two way highway up the road from our house and my sister and I would always ride our bikes up to sit on the hill and watch the cars go by on the highway below. Sometimes the boys who lived across the street would join us. We were always on our bikes together rain or shine. This fine summer day we were out riding and heard a great loud crashing noise. My sister and I rode out to the highway to see what had happened. A small white car had crashed head on into a tractor trailer. We rode right up to the car--it had just happened and nobody was there to stop us. The first and only thing I saw was the red blood spatter on the side of the white car. Then I turned to look at my sister and saw her face. IT WAS WHITE! I never looked back at the car--just took my sister away from there! Somewhere between the highway and the house we had to stop because my sister got sick and vomited. I felt at the time that she must have seen much more than I had. I remember this event like it happened yesterday but my sister has no recollection.
My mother had to haul water from an outside pump into the house and boiled a kettle to bathe us. One of her favorite forms of torture was during and after bathing. She was very rough with the washcloth, especially in the genital area. It was very painful. After the bath she would "comb" out our hair to the point where we were screaming in pain.
Covert sexual abuse or subtle sexual abuse may seem normal but paired with emotional abuse, it leaves the child feeling no less dirty, dehumanized and degraded than if the perpetrator had performed overt sexual abuse.
My father eventually installed plumbing and bathroom, kitchen, septic, etc., in that house by hand all by himself using handyman instruction books and manuals.
There was a two way highway up the road from our house and my sister and I would always ride our bikes up to sit on the hill and watch the cars go by on the highway below. Sometimes the boys who lived across the street would join us. We were always on our bikes together rain or shine. This fine summer day we were out riding and heard a great loud crashing noise. My sister and I rode out to the highway to see what had happened. A small white car had crashed head on into a tractor trailer. We rode right up to the car--it had just happened and nobody was there to stop us. The first and only thing I saw was the red blood spatter on the side of the white car. Then I turned to look at my sister and saw her face. IT WAS WHITE! I never looked back at the car--just took my sister away from there! Somewhere between the highway and the house we had to stop because my sister got sick and vomited. I felt at the time that she must have seen much more than I had. I remember this event like it happened yesterday but my sister has no recollection.
My mother had to haul water from an outside pump into the house and boiled a kettle to bathe us. One of her favorite forms of torture was during and after bathing. She was very rough with the washcloth, especially in the genital area. It was very painful. After the bath she would "comb" out our hair to the point where we were screaming in pain.
Covert sexual abuse or subtle sexual abuse may seem normal but paired with emotional abuse, it leaves the child feeling no less dirty, dehumanized and degraded than if the perpetrator had performed overt sexual abuse.
My father eventually installed plumbing and bathroom, kitchen, septic, etc., in that house by hand all by himself using handyman instruction books and manuals.
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