For the first five years of my life my father was not only in the U.S. Navy, he was also going to school to become a minister in the Southern Baptist denomination. I learned early on members of the clergy were not necessarily what they appeared to be. I remember if he thought me or one of my younger siblings was lying to him or my mother, he would make us put our hand on his bible and swear to God we were not lying. He would tell us if we lied with our hand on the bible, God would do worse to us than he himself ever could. We learned God was a being to be feared, literally.
At some point after that, I don’t remember when, my father turned from the church. I remember him saying it was all hypocrisy and we created our own heaven and hell on Earth. He said there was no God and we were never to bring it up again. And the few times I made the mistake to bring God up, the punishment was extreme.
My mother and father did not have a good marriage. Daddy wanted to talk, mom wanted to run home to her mother. She didn’t want to be there for him or for us. I always got the impression we were unwanted and in the way. Mistakes she would have taken care of if she could have. I remember a family member once telling me my dad threatened suicide if my mom didn’t marry him before he went out to sea. So she did, I guess out of guilt. Was that a good thing? I don’t know. I wouldn’t be here if that hadn’t happened, but it certainly was no way to start a marriage if that was indeed true.
Mom hated Daddy, especially sexually. She refused him regularly, so he came to me, always at night. I would keep my eyes closed as tight as I could, stay as still as I could, praying he would stop what he was doing to me. Maybe if I pretended to be asleep he would get bored with me and stop. But he never did and he always took what he wanted.
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