In my daddy's footsteps?

I did not want to end up like him. I saw what alcohol did to my dad—the DT's, the lack of self-respect. When he drank too much, he couldn't work, and someone had to drive his truck, delivering the laundry and making the collections, or there wouldn't be enough money at home. Even Mother, who was not a good driver, had to make deliveries for him. Sometimes when she drove, I was the one who went to the door with the laundry to collect the money.

My mother spent years praying for Daddy. Later in life, I would learn how to heal those hard, suffering, unhappy memories through prayer. But those were tough times for Mother and us kids.

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To see righteously, not self-righteously
February 24, 2003
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