Thursday, November 12, 2015


There's no doubt that I've had an extraordinary life - - much of which I would be reluctant to reveal in a public blog (or even a memoir, for that matter). Despite the brash facade that I project on this blog, I am in truth fiercely private and introverted. I'm not comfortable talking about myself. Also, I'm often hesitant to reveal certain things, because - to be blunt - they might not be believed.

I've noticed, however, that the older I get (not that I'm old, of course....) the less concerned I am about what other people think - - and the stronger my desire is to reveal things about myself and my past.

In my previous post I mentioned that I believe curses come home to roost, and that I had a story to tell. I've never told this story to anyone before, except my mother and one of my cousins - - mainly because it makes me look bad. Vindictive, childish, completely irrational.

My only defense is that intense anger - especially after years of pent-up rage - can make us do insanely irrational things.

It's no secret that my father and I always had an extremely turbulent and violent relationship. There was no mysterious reason behind this. My father was an extraordinarily violent person with a temper so insanely brutal that I still shudder at the memory of it. I feared him until the day he died. His inner demons caused him to lash out at anybody, for any reason. Since my mother and I were the people nearest  him, we always bore the full brunt of his rage. The frequent physical violence was also accompanied by constant verbal abuse. His vile words cut like a knife.

One small, random example of physical violence happened one summer when I was fourteen. My father was working in the back yard, putting down a cement sidewalk. I was watching him and happened to get in his way. A huge mistake.

He immediately started pummeling me with his fists, then stomped on my bare feet until they were bloody (he was wearing heavy work boots). He then got me into one of his infamous bear hugs (it wasn't the first time) and managed to fracture two of my ribs. My hysterical mother managed to intervene and save my life.

I was a fourteen-year-old kid - - pathetically skinny and abnormally frail. I didn't have a fighting chance. 
That's only one small example of many, many others.

What about the curse?
Fast Forward - -
years later when I was a young adult. No need to go into details. My father and I had another blowup, which - of course - was violent and physical. During the course of this one, dear ol' dad got a loaded gun and threatened to kill me. Eventually he turned the tables (so to speak), handed me the gun, and begged me to kill myself, over and over.
Implored me to kill myself - - said that he prayed I would die and wanted to see me dead.

My intense hate for him always rendered me helpless and caused me to act completely irrationally. Later that day, in a blind fury of hate, I found an old photo of him. I spat on it, cursed him out loud, and said that I wanted him to die. I took a pin and jabbed his photo in the abdomen, over and over, cursing him every time.

That very night, a few hours after I went to sleep, I began having severe abdominal pain. As I became fully awake the pain got worse, until it was so violently intense that I was writhing in agony and couldn't get out of bed. It was the worse pain I ever had in my life - - and it was located in the exact area of the abdomen where I had pierced my father's photo with pins.

To abbreviate a long story:
I had an attack of kidney stones which was so severe that the stones ripped my right kidney and seriously damaged it. I was in the hospital for a week and it took many months to recover. I had pain in my right kidney for years afterwards.

I remember grimly saying (about my father),
You can't win with that son-of-a-bitch. Even my curses failed.

Was this all a mere coincidence?
Not on your life. After this incredible incident, I fully believe that curses come home to roost. 

Link to my other blog
(one is enough - why the hell would I have two??):

Cabinet of Curious Treasures 


  1. SOBs like your old man (and mine) DESERVE a horrible death. period.

    1. You can NEVER win with bastards like that. I tried my entire life and always failed.

  2. A child deserves safety and a life free of fear. I didn't suffer what you did and am not sure I could have found the strength to emerge from it as well as you. I tried hard not to be a mad dad. Even so, things sometimes got so tense and exciting while I was raising kids that I had to go outside to calm down --also kept an emergency beer in the pumphouse. But what you went through makes me marvel at the intelligent and talented man you grew up to be.

    1. My dysfunctional childhood seemed so "normal" to me that I never thought much about having to overcome it. In retrospect it left a lot of emotional scars and seriously impeded my ability to mature emotionally and grow into an adult.
      I have no doubt that parenting is an exasperating job - but you and Norma certainly did something right, and I heartily applaud you for that.

      I love the idea of an emergency beer in the pumphouse.

    2. Norma did everything right. But I was the one what kept a beer in the pumphouse --Guinness Extra Stout of course.

  3. Oh, that is creepy, it really is. And how nightmarish to have a father like that always inside your head. I have always felt that it's bad to dwell on horrible stuff, and it damages the person who thinks it as much as the person it's directed at, but that's all about karma really. Your experience sounds worse than this ..... yes, quite definitely scary!

    1. After my father died all of my pent-up hate suddenly vanished - - but for years it nearly destroyed me.
      The "curse" experience was extremely ironic and frightening.

  4. Jon I'm so sorry you had to go through this with your dad. Some men are just not meant to be a dad and I think he was one of them. I was lucky to have the most loving and sweetest dad. You turned out to be a great person, and had a beautiful loving mother.

    1. Jean, you were so very fortunate to have had a sweet and loving father. I honestly never knew they existed. My mother was an extraordinary woman in many ways - - unfortunately her only weakness was that she never left my father (she tried several times but always went back).

  5. Jenny just expressed what I was thinking ... except Karma boomerang-ed so viciously, I'm loathe to ever use its name again.
    Thank goodness the genes you inherited from your mom (obviously) overcame the venom!

    I hope by telling this story you're a little less burdened. Bit by bit .....

    1. Fortunately I am very much like my mother was - - both in looks and intelligence, but I also inherited many of my father's wild and rotten traits (but THANK GOD I didn't inherit the insane temper).
      This is only one of many bizarre stories. I'll save them for my memoir........

  6. Jon,
    I have had no pain worse in my life when I had a kidney stone arrack. I've been through this ordeal four times. The last time the pain was so excruciating I wished that I would die. Two operations later (one kidney stone was stuck in my uretha), hopefully I am finally free of them.


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