Remembering

“Crash!” Echoes of breaking glass fixtures along with crying moans caught my attention. Dad had marched to the bedroom, began gathering things, and mom was trying to block him every step of the way. Sounds of rushed sign language snaps and slapping skin accented by mom’s crying moans filled my ears. Dad’s answer of deep guttural yells, angry sign language smacking along his own body conveyed his determination to end this night away from the house. -------------------------------------------------- Kearns, Utah had 2 types of homes: split-level with most of the home above ground save for a small living room, bedroom and utility room; or rambler with fifty percent of the home at ground level and a mirror version below it as a basement. Our, 1979, $41,000, half brown brick, half white aluminum siding, garage-less rambler, consisted of a front living room, three bedrooms and bathroom as the main floor. Beneath it lay an unfinished, cement slab basement full of two by four fra...

Time stands still as I stare at white knuckled hands beginning the strenuous twist. Ten seconds slow to ten minutes. All eyes stare at my father strain. While the crowd chants, one woman can be heard over all others screaming support. Turning my head left, I see my brother’s fascination. He turns toward me and screams, “Holy Shit!” My heart races recognizing a memory in the making. This day, my father became a man and my brother began to swear. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- 1982. Ronald Reagan's, Rocky Balboa supporting, Communism hating America hummed onward prospecting at home, abroad and even into outer space—thank you Star Wars and E.T. The more hours the offspring of Baby Boomers toiled, the more boundless the opportunity. In my neighborhood, every adult worked. Every child played; many wearing a necklace of sorts holding the key to the front door of the unsupervised, pint-size, second generation, Levitt-town style...