I was born in 1952 in a small town in Mississippi. My dad worked in a Cotton Mill, We lived in a Mill Village.I was the fifth of seven kids, it was hard making ends meet. The mill closed, we then moved to New Orleans La.where I grew up.

My dad worked as a security guard. He was a very mean man, I learned at an early age to stay out of his way. His abuse was mostly verbal. but at times the abuse was physical. I remember one time when I was about ten years old, he whipped me until I was black and purple, while all the time my mother was trying to make him stop.

I remember my dad breaking dishes, throwing all our food in the garbage. One time at 3:00 am he came in from work, I was crying because I had stumped my toe real bad, and it was hurting. He was so mad about me crying,  he turned every light on, the tv, radio, washing machine, he turned on everything that was electric. Can you imagine how I felt?

There was the time my mother was going to leave my dad, We were all packed, they were fighting, he didn’t want her to leave. My mother had already called a cab to take us to the bus station, we were going to MS, boy did I want to leave. We got into the cab. The cab driver asked who the man on the steps holding the gun was. It was by dad, he got in his car and  followed us all the way to the Gray Hound bus station.

When we got there, my mother hid, with us kids in the restroom. Finally my mother went out to talk to him, I was so scared. My dad talked my mother into coming home. Things were better for a while

When I was five, I was real sick, burning up with a fever, lethargic. My dad had worked all night and was sleeping. I was so sick my mother got scared and told my dad to get up and take me to the hospital, he got mad, refused to take me to the hospital. I remember my mother wrapping me up in a blanket like a baby, and took off walking to the hospital with me in her arms. my mother didn’t drive. I remember My dad driving up to the curb telling my mother to get in the car, still holding me, mama got in the car, we headed to the hospital to find I was one sick kId.  I was sick with rebel-la.

There was the time my 14 year old brother came home high off of sniffing glue, my dad reacted by heading to his car where he kelp his gun, I remember the fear I felt as my mother tried to keep my dad from getting the gun, then seeing my mother fall to the ground as my dad pushed her out of his way,then the sound of gun shots and the sound of my mothers voice as she screamed for my brother to run, I was in shock, I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t utter a word. this is but a glimpse of life at my house.

If life wasn’t cruel enough, there was the poverty. Poverty was just a normal way of living for us,but even though we were poor, we kids didn’t know it. My  mother made sure we had A hot meal  every day, clean cloths She made sure our house was clean.It was so comforting just to know she would be there waiting for us kids to come home from school.

This was my life every day, but even though things were bad in my home I still have some good memories of my child hood, of my sisters and brothers with whom I shared the same hellish home.