Going, Going . . .

Growing up in Pennsylvania during the fifties, I longed for the white picket fence and the perfect life what went with it, as did most young girls. I didn't come from a background that had alcoholism. But, by the time I was in grade school, disruption and instability were part of my life. My father was what they called a "womanizer," and my mother strongly objected. By the time I was ten, Dad had found someone to run off with on a permanent basis, and my mother and I had moved in with the grandparents. Mother had a lot of emotional problems. Having married very young, she never really grew up, and when my father left, she abdicated from motherhood and let Grandmother do the job.