My Sister, Marsha, And My Family

Decent Essays
My sister, Marsha, and I wanted to live in the small town we grew-up in, so we stayed with Daddy for several years. We were teenagers by then and with Dad’s party side and being divorced, he was gone most of the time. Unsupervised, like a great deal of teens, we appeared at times unruly. Nearly all my relatives and the majority of the town looked on disapprovingly. I can still hear my Aunt Lula Bell swearing, “Mr. Alfred is not ‘doin right’ by you girls, running the roads - leaving y’all alone - now y’all mind yourselves and go to church to make everything right.” In the south, going to church was the ultimate goal of walking the line and making it ‘right’ with the LORD. Periodically, I guess my Daddy’s conscious would get the best of him, and we would dress-up and go to my Grandparent’s on several Sundays. After church I could hear my Dad being reprimanded about me and my sister by my loving grandmother. She adored my Dad, but had a stern Baptist constitution. They would be crying in each other’s arms and him swearing to ‘Sugar Mama’ he would do better. Alas, for poor ole’ Mr. Alfred that lasted until the next country song was played; which was pretty quick. Of course, with Marsha and I being teenagers, we basically liked the situation; we had charge accounts all over town, and our apartment became the number one hangout for quite a few teenagers. During this time, religion had principally faded into the background for me, as my utmost pursuit was hanging-out with my
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