My Mother

Part one of three. My mother's horrible childhood played a huge part in my upbringing, so it only seemed logical for me to include it.

I suppose you could say that I was born into a dysfunctional family, but dysfunctional doesn't quite do it justice. My mother was only 20 when she gave birth to me, 19 when she got pregnant. She'd been dating my father for only 3 months before she got pregnant. To this day, she still doesn't know why she dated him, and tells me that getting pregnant was a mistake. That doesn't phase me one bit! I know she loves me.

The problems in my family didn't get as bad as they are until my grandmother got married. That was the first mistake that lead to my upbringing. My grandmother was a practicing Jehovah's Witness (she still is, along with me and my mother), so I have no idea why she married an alcoholic atheist at the age of 16.

Apparently, my grandfather was a nice guy at first, but became abusive after the first months of his and my grandmother's marriage (that seems to be the pattern in my family). He went to work at 6 A.M., went straight to the bar and stayed there all night, came home, beat up my grandmother, yelled at the kids, went to sleep, and repeated that all the next day.

My grandmother never did anything about this abuse. That is, until my grandfather tried to kill her, their three children, and 2 cops. My uncle, who seems to have been numb to his entire childhood, was the only one who told me the story of their escape.

It all started at about 11 o'clock at night in Jamestown, North Dakota. My grandfather came home, drunk as always, and immediately started yelling at my grandmother. He punched her, slapped her and even started kicking her. All in front of my uncle, who was only about 8 years old at the time! My grandmother told my uncle to run away, but my grandfather told him to stay. My uncle, being the little trouble-maker he was, made a run for it. He says that he just wandered around the neighborhood and pretended he was a ninja. He was a weird one, indeed.

Back in the house, my mom and aunt were hiding in their rooms, afraid to come out. When they heard my grandmother cry out in pain, they ran into the living room to find my grandmother curled up in pain. As my grandmother did with my uncle, she told them to run. This time, my grandfather didn't care. So they ran. No one knows where they ran off to, but they ran.

By then, the cops had shown up. They ran into the house and tried to tackle my grandfather, but he resisted and ran out of the house, shotgun in hand. The cops followed him, leaving behind my grandmother. My uncle says that he, my mother and my aunt were hiding in some bushes near the house so they could watch.

My grandfather tried to shoot the cops, but missed, leaving him open to be tackled, hand cuffed and arrested. Once my grandfather was taken care of and the cops were gone, my grandmother limped out of the house and told all of the kids to get in the car. They drove to a hotel and stayed there for the night until the cops came and talked to them in the morning.

The cops said that my grandfather would be in jail for about three months, giving them enough time to pack their belonging and get out of Jamestown. My grandmother arranged for her to get a divorce in La Moure, North Dakota as soon as my grandfather was released from jail.

That day, they packed up their things, and made several 100 mile trips back and forth from Jamestown to Fargo. At the end of my grandfather's three months in jail, my grandmother and her children took the 50 mile drive to La Moure, where my great grandmother lived, for her divorce. After that, they took one last trip to Jamestown, just to check that they'd packed everything.

On the same night that my grandmother had gotten her divorce, they left Jamestown for one last time, hoping to never go back again. While driving on the dark highway, they swear that they saw a man that looked exactly like my grandfather standing on the side of the road with a sign asking for a ride to Fargo. They drove back in silent fear.