Like I said in the story of My Earliest Memory, I remember him kicking me so hard, I went at least 10 or 12 feet. I was only a small child, but that didn’t stop him from punting me across the room. I remember him drinking at the table in the kitchen with his buddies Tom, Dick, Harry never came round much!
recall being just a little older, still living in Stabb Court, I was learning how to ride a bicycle, he wasn’t around, so I was out there by myself, trying my best. I fell off the bike and skinned my knee pretty good, I was crying on the ground, when he came out the door and proceeded to pick me up off the ground, not to console me, but he kicked me again, this time I landed on the corner of the concrete step, hurting my hand and side. But that didn’t matter to him, I ran as fast as I could, more like hobbled cause of the pain, and all I could hear was “Keep crying and I’ll fucking give you something to cry about” (can you feel the love?).
When we moved to Keegan Court, nothing changed except the beating he gave my mom, never my sister, just myself and mom. Many a night the police came to take him away, but she never went through with it, she just let them leave with him there, usually passed out by that time. One time, I remember my mom calling my sister and me into the kitchen and she told us if we ever heard her screaming, she wanted us to come into the room because he would stop beating her? Don’t remember ever doing it, cause she would have been wrong, and I would have been beaten too.
I recall bringing a friend home from school, his name was Don O’Brien and we hung out after school a few times and I went to his house, this particular day, I had invited him to come to my house. We weren’t home more than a few minutes, and six guys proceeded to carry my dad through the door, he was out cold and had pissed himself. I was totally embarrassed, and the look on Donny’s face said it all and he said that he’d better leave! That was it, I never hung out with him after that day, I was too ashamed at what he saw, it’s too bad, cause I felt that we could have been friend’s a long time. Luckily, I found him on Facebook, post on each others timeline, but nothing like it could have been.
I recall many a night staying at my Nan’s house on Pleasant Street, usually either after he hit my mom, or he was drunk to the point he was unbearable, so needless to say, we went there to stay the night often. I used to stay on the leather couch in the living room, I used to stick to that puppy, it was hot!
I also recall him picking us up from that house, most of the time, drunk. One time, he went down Springdale Street, went through the intersection and I remember mom grabbing the wheel, he went around a pole, knocked down the street sign and went up 3 or 4 stairs before coming back out onto the street (See picture below). He could have killed us all, or any pedestrian that could have been there, unbelievable that she would even get in the car, let alone put us all in danger like that, over and over and over.
He died in The Health Science Center on Jan. 21st, 1985. I was there earlier that day, my Aunt was there and she made me hold his hand. He awoke and when he realized I was holding his hand, he pulled it away (again, can you feel the love?). I distinctly remember my Dad never once in his lifetime saying that he loved me, I may have said it to him in the early years, but pretty sure I did not.
Nans house (On the left)
Drunk Driving Incident