[continued from previous message]   
      
   >> comments.   
   >   
   > Now, that's ironic coming from someone who loves to comment on others'   
   > parents when he's never met any of them. Unlike you, though, I'll base   
   > my comments on what you've actually said about them.   
   >   
   >> My mother was a wonderful parent.  She was fun to be with, spent all of   
   >> her day with my siblings and I, and was always encouraging our   
   >> creativity.  (She was also beautiful, looked like a movie star, well   
   >> educated/a school teacher, and was loved by everyone who met her.)  I   
   >> have nothing but good memories of her.  My mother thought that I (and my   
   >> siblings) were the greatest children ever born -- and inadvertently   
   >> contributed to any narcissistic tendencies I might have today.  She   
   >> enrolled me in dance and music classes, the Cub Scouts, bought me   
   >> presents for each of my recitals (including a pet lamb), and was   
   >> convinced that I was going to grow up to be a movie star.   
   >   
   > That's helpful; it doesn't contradict my theories but rather supports   
   > them.   
   >   
   >> She did believe in corporal punishment, as did most parents of her   
   >> generation.  IIRC, you said the same thing in defense of your parents --   
   >> although keeping you in the house doing chores all day, refusing to   
   >> allow you in the living because "boys are filthy," and whipping your   
   >> bare ass every night go far beyond corporal punishment.   
   >   
   > Incidentally, Lying Michael, they go far beyond anything you've read in   
   > my poem or anything I've told you about it later, as well. I can   
   > understand how desperate you are to change the subject to that poem of   
   > mine - if you do succeed, of course, I'll just move things to a new   
   > thread and leave this one open to write in after you've moved on.   
   >   
   >> My mother would   
   >> never have treated me in such an unloving manner.  Hell, I'd tie up her   
   >> guests while they sat in the living room chairs, and she'd just laugh   
   >> and tell them I was just having fun -- which was quite true, although   
   >> her guests often failed to appreciate it.   
   >   
   > You'd "tie up the guests" a la Red Chief and your mother would laugh at   
   > them? I suppose you didn't get many repeat guests.   
   >   
   >> My father was also handsome, in a dark, Sicilian kind of way.  He was   
   >> even more intelligent than my mother, but since he worked all day, he   
   >> wasn't as involved with us as my mother.  He did make time for us   
   >> though, taking us fishing, digging for antique bottles with me in the   
   >> woods behind our house.  He rarely hit us when my mother was alive --   
   >> and then, only when we did something really bad ("Wait till your father   
   >> gets home!").  He suffered an emotional breakdown for two years after my   
   >> mother's death, during which time he was prone to bouts of physical   
   >> violence. I always stood up to him, but a 12-year old boy can't do much   
   >> against a 47-year old man.   
   >>   
   >> After the first 6 months, his violent outburst gradually became less   
   >> frequent, and had stopped altogether by the time two years had passed.   
   >> He felt bad about it, and did his best to make it up to me for the   
   >> remainder of his life (he passed 11 years after my mother).  He even   
   >> bought me an MG! He died when I was 23.  He'd been disabled by a series   
   >> of strokes three years prior to his death, and I returned from the Navy   
   >> to take care of him.   
   >   
   > That last is interesting. Is that what you meant about "finally getting   
   > the upper hand" in your relationship with him?   
   >   
   >> Unlike the self-admittedly autobiographical narrator of your poem, I've   
   >> never wanted to go back to my childhood home and burn it down.  In fact,   
   >> I was deeply saddened when the new owners made it over, making it almost   
   >> unrecognizable.  I often daydream about buying and putting it back the   
   >> way it was in the 1960s and 70, with all of the flowers and blossoming   
   >> bushes and trees my father planted.   
   >   
   > I've read that is the normal response to unresolved issues from one's   
   > childhood: wanting to go back and fix it all up. But that wouldn't make   
   > for a very dramatic ending to a work of fiction and remember, as I told   
   > you, I was writing dramatic fiction, not autobiography.   
   >   
   >> Except for my mother's untimely death and my father's consequent   
   >> breakdown, I had an excellent childhood -- insofar as my relationship   
   >> with my parents went.  We were far from rich (lower middle income at   
   >> best by my grandmother's estimation) but my parents spoiled us rotten.   
   >> We had a swing set, a jungle gym, a swimming pool, and a tent in our   
   >> back yard, dozens of pets, they turned their den into a toy room and   
   >> filled it up with toys (my father built us a huge three compartment toy   
   >> box to keep them in, and grew up thinking that we were rich.   
   >>   
   >> In many ways, my childhood was as far removed from yours as possible.   
   >   
   >> But, yes.  During the time of my father's breakdown, I have no doubt   
   >> that I endured far more severe physical beatings than you ever did.   
   >> Best of times/worst of times, as Charles Dickens would say.   
   >   
   > That is not what you said earlier, MMP. In the quoted text you   
   > distinctly mention that you fled from and fought both your parents.   
   >   
   >>> thanks. I have no idea if anyone will even read them here, aside from   
   >>> you and I, but if I don't get them down then no one ever will.   
   >>   
   >> Enjoy yourself psychoanalyzing the above.  And, speaking of literary   
   >> characters, my Grandmother always compared me to O. Henry's "Red Chief."   
   >   
   > It may be good background material, but for now it will just go into the   
   > file with all the rest.   
      
   Definitely a lot to sort out, thanks.   
      
   --- SoupGate-DOS v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)