Wednesday, March 25, 2015

A bit of history: 4

Barrington was an upscale New England town in which things like this didn't go on.

It was a quaint yet prosperous place.

Quiet and very prim and proper.

I lived in the house with "the flowers on the door". Mom was an artist and painted the pretty little petals herself. I was so very proud. But really... according to town talk, it was b-a-d.

My family type just didn't belong. Mom was deemed wild, loose and unwelcomed. 

Other parents treated me different and children constantly bullied. People whispered and strangers turned their heads.

Mom and stepfather drank. It was more of an evening thing with them, I think. Regardless, stepfather always reeked of alcohol and mom always smelled like an ashtray. 

Dad drank continuously but I never made the connection until adulthood. He always had a can of beer or gin/ tonic but he was never mean and never a threat.

His behavior was always consistent, and basically, dad was always just dad.

Loving and warm but just not available.

testimony by: Hallie Agar

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