Personal Narrative : My Sister, Marsha, And I

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At the time, my sister, Marsha, and I wanted to live in the small town we grew-up in; therefore, we resided with my Dad for several years. We were teenagers by then and realistically needed a great deal of discipline; unfortunately, for us, with Dad’s party side and being divorced, he remained gone the majority of the time. Unsupervised, like various other 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 Katie 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.” Again, in the south, going to church remains 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 regarding me and my sister by my loving grandmother. She adored my Dad; however, still 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 he played the next country song; which, occurred pretty rapidly. 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
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