Well, now you’ve got me thinking about Jerry. You’re right, he did make a lot of bad decisions. Many of these grievances are ones I have mentioned before.
He set fires. He set the sausage fire in Galveston, and also set a couch on fire by not extinguishing a cigarette, but instead leaving it on the arm of the couch.
He valued writing. He woke us up at 2 am one night because he wanted to read us the passage in Dracula where the count turns into a bat.
He was pretty sexist, though perhaps not sexist for the mid-sixties. We all went trolling for fish, and while I was the only one who caught a wee hammerhead, I was not allowed to reel it in, due to my chromosomes. He most famously pushed me out of NASA Mission Control 1968, saying they didn't allow girls there. He also wolf-whistled at me as I walked about in my new swimsuit at 7 years old. Also, during his epic final farewell speech, he announced David needed to be a good person, not so much me, because I wasn’t carrying on the family name.
He had a flair for making lasting memories. There was another farewell speech when Mom and Jerry separated. He had a gash in his head from a car accident the night before, with thick black stitches. I remember because he made us touch it, so we would not forget how he was so upset about the separation that he got into a car accident.
Those are just the things I remember. And that was before he took up alcoholism and reportedly began beating people, including his children.
To think Mom might have stayed with him ... and to think I might have just adapted to this type of behavior as normal. Instead, I suppose, I see my stepdad as normal, a man who spoke to his stepchildren once a week, and only while drunk.
I suppose there aren't any perfect parents. I was probably wise to opt out entirely.
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