Walden with His Mother and Dog, Cindy

In Touch With His Soul, The Teenage Years  

Gina Cerminara's poignant biographical interview with Walden Welch continues·

"Toothpicks & Pennies"

Chapter 12

WW: "All things being considered, yes·yes it was. I believe that things work out as they are destined to and that it was Mom's and my destiny to return into my father's life."

Dr: "As so inspiringly described by yours and Julia's so called 'previews of coming attractions'."

WW: "Materialistically, my decision that we remain was indeed a wise one, for Mom's health rapidly began to deteriorate shortly after our arrival. In the coming year, and in the coming years, she would be hospitalized countless numbers of times. The damage that her long bout with rheumatic fever did to her heart following her heart surgery was extensive. Her heart valves were all badly scarred, as was her mitral valve. With the great medical advances that have been made in modern day heart surgery, one cannot today realize how primitive this area of health care was back in those days. Mom was one of the very first successful cases to have survived open-heart surgery. In order to hope to continue to survive she had to live a very restrictive life. It was mandatory that she adhered to a low sodium diet. Every ounce and item of food she ate had to be checked for its sodium content. No salt was ever allowed in her foods. Climbing stairs was forbidden for the doctors would say, 'One stair climbed was one day off your lifespan.' Mom was never allowed to travel anywhere where the oxygen was thin.  Therefore, she was never allowed to fly on planes or ever visit the mountains. For some reason one of her greatest desires was to be able to one day visit the state of Alaska. 'Oh, one day when the doctors make me well I want to go to Alaska,' she would exclaim. 'I want to see all the snow and glaciers and tall, tall mountains and be able to take off my shoes and walk through the cold waters of a river. I believe that if God had a place He lived it would have to be in Alaska.' In reality that dream never came true, for in her lifetime Mom only left the state of California one time and that was to remarry my father in Las Vegas, Nevada. When I look back on my decision not to leave my father there is no question whatsoever that I made the right decision, but I really did not then know how right it was. Because I was a child I had no understanding of the necessity of money. I made my decision simply because I knew Mom loved my father and I did not want to take that happiness away from her. I also believed that God had wanted us to return to him. At that time in my life I had no comprehension of financial matters and, therefore, was unaware of the horrendous costs my father incurred due to my mother's health problems. In that she was born ill she was uninsurable. No health insurance company would ever consider her for medical coverage. She needed numerous medications every day of her life and monthly doctor visits. Dietary salt free foods cost three times more than regularly produced foods and yet had less than half the contents. We never knew from day to day what crisis might befall her next. She would contract pneumonia and have to be hospitalized for this at least twice a year. She had numerous hospitalizations due to heart failures, edema and a list of other bad health conditions too plentiful and painful to care to remember. Without my father's financial help I have no idea how we could have survived our plight. And how he managed on the salary of a carpenter I will forever wonder.  On occasion I recall him saying, 'I will never live long enough, nor ever make enough money, to ever pay these bills.' And yet he was not complaining. He never complained about whatever costs it took to keep Mom alive. His love for her was so great that nothing else in the world ever mattered to him. 'She is the only thing I live for,' he would say. 'My life has no meaning without Julia.' No matter what negativity I may share with you regarding my personal relationship with my father please know that he was also the most caring and loving man I ever knew. As you know, none of us are all good or all bad. I do believe my father had extremes regarding both his good and bad natured sides, but when it came to being a devoted and selfless husband he was 'The Best' loving husband I have ever known. I will thank God until the day I die that he came back into my mother's life and I will be eternally grateful to him for all that he did for her. In so many ways he was the most spiritually remarkable man I ever knew. If he had a fault, that fault was simply that he did not know how to love more than one person. That was his one singular flaw."

Dr: "And you believe that his abuse towards you was because your mother loved you and he was jealous of that love?"

WW: I have no doubt that this was true as you will later see when I share with you my past life experiences with him. In many ways my father was my great worldly spiritual teacher. He had so many outstanding values and principles that I have applied to my life. More importantly he also encompassed all the elements of everything I never wanted to be and when I might see one of these traits within myself I would do all that I could do to make certain I did not follow that pattern. I am a better person for having had experienced him. I have always said that my relationship with Mom was for love.  My relationship with my father was for lessons. At one time I had thought that my relationship with my mother was the most spiritually valuable and significant one I had in life, but in retrospect I now realize that it was my relationship with my father that made me the better person for he was everything that I should and should not be."

Dr: "But of course this recognition of the importance his role played in your life was not yet at all apparent to you back during that period of 1955 through 1961·that period you have stated was the most difficult period in your life?"

WW: "Definitely not! During that period I could only consider him to be my most dreaded nightmare, but I did have cause. I truly did have cause. Thinking back on those difficult years·1957 was the worst."

Dr: "Then let us please go back to 1957 for I am more than curious as to why this year in particular is, to you, so memorably dreadful."

WW: All right. Here we go again (Laugh) ·back to the days of 'toothpicks and pennies'.

Dr: (Laugh) "Great title!"

WW: "Shortly before I graduated from the 8^th grade in June of 1957, I had finally made a few friends·three to be exact. The strange thing is that although we were all in the same age group I did not attend the same school as they did. I can no longer recall how we met or became friends, but we did. Oh yes! I remember now! I went to school with a girl named Diane Pert and my friends Woody, Gary and Richard were all neighbors of hers. That is how I met them. Anyway, we became friends and we would go to the movies together on weekends, visit each other and do the normal things that childhood friends do. That summer of 1957 the movie 'South Pacific' had come out. It had been playing in all the big cities for quite awhile and was finally making its way to the smaller towns like Bakersfield. I was more than eager to see it and so my friends and I all set a date when we could all go and see it together. For some reason I wanted to see that movie more than any movie before that I could remember. Well, anyway·the day we had picked to see 'South Pacific' fell on 'toothpicks and pennies' day. "

Dr: "That being, of course, the day you were to scrub the floors."

WW: "But of course! Dad knew how badly I wanted to see the film. It was all I had talked about for weeks, so on that morning I did my utmost to clean as fastidiously as possible. I dare not miss collecting one toothpick or one penny lest I suffer the penalty of being grounded. On this particular day he was really irritable, but I did everything I could to keep on his good side. 'I don't know why in the hell you want to go to a movie on a nice day like this,' he said. 'It's dirty and dark in those theatres. There are tons of germs in those dark places. Do you realize you could catch something and give it to your mother?' 'I promise I won't catch anything,' I answered. 'I will be really careful, and besides its summer so no body has a cold.'  'Just because it's summer doesn't mean you can't get sick for Christ's sake! Don't you think you're being a little selfish by not thinking of your mother's well-being?' 'I promise I won't catch anything, Dad. I promise I will really be careful.' I knew then that he had a plan and that plan was to prevent me from seeing that movie that day. When I had finished with the floors he said, 'All right. Let's have a counting.' I handed him the bowl full of the toothpicks and pennies I had collected and held my breath as he counted them. 'There are two missing toothpicks. Start over! Start cleaning the floors again until you find them!' 'There can't be any missing ones,' I exclaimed. 'I was really, really careful. I know I collected them all!' I frantically ran back into the bathroom which was the first floor I had cleaned, got down and my hands and knees and felt everywhere looking for the missing toothpicks. There, under the washbasin lay two toothpicks. 'These weren't here before!' I cried. 'Dad, that's not fair! You put them here after I already cleaned this floor. I know they weren't here! I know I cleaned this spot right.' 'God damn you, you little punk! Are you calling me a liar? How dare you do that!' His voice began quivering and his hands began trembling·sure signs that the dreadful side of him that I called 'The Monk' had returned. Despite my fear of encountering his wrath, my heartbreak and disappointment was so great that I lacked the good judgment of keeping my mouth shut. 'You did this on purpose!' I cried. 'You did this to me after I cleaned this spot! You always do this to me when you want to punish me for something! You won't ever tell me how many toothpicks and pennies you hid in the first place so I know how many I have to find. You hide that from me on purpose so you can trick me like you did just now! You put these two toothpicks here because you know "South Pacific" is only going to play here for two weeks and now I am grounded for two weeks and I won't ever be able to see it! You did it on purpose! You always do it on purpose!' The next thing I knew his knees were on my chest and he had me pinned down, back to the floor. He had wrapped two terry cloth hand towels around his fists and was beating me on the sides of my head. 'You shut up you little Bastard! You shut your God damned mouth before I kill you!' 'I don't care anymore, just do it!', I cried. 'Do whatever you want. Just kill me! I don't care anymore'·and I didn't. Something happened that day that allowed me to release myself from ever hoping of someday having a loving relationship with my father. From that day forward I began giving up because it had so terrified me to see him wrap towels around his fists to beat me so that he would not leave bruises or welts for Mom to have known what he had done. This act was the first real action that led to my beginning to no longer care."

Dr: "And with good cause! Good Lord, what people do to hurt people! Did he ever apologize to you for this? Was there ever a time that he tried making amends with you?"

WW: "No. Never. Dad was never wrong. He was simply never wrong. Although I came to a realization that day that I would never again try to win or hope for his affections, I had not yet surrendered my will to him entirely. That came a few weeks after this 'toothpicks and pennies' fiasco. But before I totally surrendered to his will something terribly bad happened to me that led up to this final indifference. This will not be easy or comfortable for me to talk about, for in truth I have never shared this story in its entirety with anyone before. I only share it with you because I trust you and know that you are understanding and sophisticated. I also feel it is important to your research project regarding my life and its influences upon my unusualness. I hate to admit it but what I am about to tell you has played a major part in creating the person that I am today, although I did not know it at that time."

Dr: "Then please, by all means, continue."

WW: "What I am about to tell you happened three weeks after the 'toothpicks and pennies' conflict. I'm certain this is so because I had obviously not been allowed to see the film 'South Pacific' for the two weeks it played at The Fox Theatre in Bakersfield. The third weekend, however, I was not being punished so I was allowed to go swimming with two of the new friends I had made."

Dr: "You are referring to Woody, Gary and Richard?"

WW: "My, you do have a good memory! Yes, that was their names. But on this specific day it was Richard Pellerin and a boy named Danny DeFoe, two other friends who I had made that summer, that I went to The Union Avenue Plunge with. This was a huge public swimming pool. It was, in fact, reputed to be the world's largest swimming pool. Whether or not this fact was true I am not certain, and it is of no consequence to the story anyway. To continue, the three of us boys were lying on our towels sunning and drinking cokes and eating French fries as kids do, when a man by the name of Brian Huff came to where we were and joined us. I had never seen nor met him before, but Richard and Danny introduced him to me as their Physical Education or 'P.E.' teacher. He seemed like a really nice man. I was never a good judge of one's age, but I believe he was probably in his mid or late 20's, very handsome and very friendly. The three of them told me all about 'South Pacific' and how great they thought the film was. Mr. Huff mentioned too that he had the soundtrack album of the movie and he would like it very much, since I lived near him, if I 'would drop by his place, take a swim and listen to the record.' I politely told him that I would like to, but really didn't take his invitation seriously because, like most teenagers, I wasn't really comfortable in the company of adults let alone schoolteachers. However, he phoned me the following week and said he was having a swim party with a small group of friends and said he would like to have me join them. My parents gave me their permission to go, so that Saturday afternoon I walked to Mr. Huff's house to attend his swim party. When I arrived he and a small group of people were seated on lounges around the pool. When he saw me arrive he waved to me and called me over to join them. There was nobody there who I knew. I asked him if Richard or Danny were coming and he said, 'No. I didn't invite them.' I thought it was strange that he would invite me without them, but I didn't say anything to him about that. I remember being very uncomfortable amongst this group of strangers. I was very shy and so I didn't say much. I spoke whenever spoken to and swam quietly in the water by myself. About an hour after I had arrived Mr. Huff asked me if I would help him cut up a water melon and prepare a few things to eat to bring out to the pool. Of course I said yes and followed him into his apartment. On our way to his kitchen he paused in the living room and put the LP of 'South Pacific' in his phonograph and turned on the player. 'This is the record you wanted to hear,' he said. We then went into his kitchen. Once inside the room he immediately grabbed me, pushed me against the wall and began fondling me, and trying to kiss me. I'm not certain if it was because of shock or embarrassment, but I used all my force and tried to push him away from me. The harder I would push at him the angrier and more persistent he would become. I kept pleading with him to stop it, but he would not relent and in seconds the situation between us became one of violence. I am not going to continue the into the details of what next transpired for it is enough to say that I was sexually molested by Mr. Huff that day. It was not until after the fact that I realized my right arm had been dislocated from its shoulder socket. I had struggled so hard to get free from him that somehow he dislodged my shoulder from its socket. I had not felt any pain until I heard Mr. Huff telling me to get dressed and act like nothing happened. Whereas before he had been aggressive and violent, he now appeared to be very nervous and frightened. 'I'm sorry this happened. I didn't mean for this to happen. This really shouldn't have happened! Please, please don't tell anybody what happened. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. I could lose my job. You could make a lot of trouble for me. You mustn't tell. Please, please don't tell anyone this happened,' he begged. It was strange and almost pathetic to see a man who had been so violently aggressive become so ashamedly passive. 'I won't tell anyone. I promise I won't. Please just let me go home,' I begged him. 'I want to go home. I won't say anything to anyone.' 'Please promise me,' he asked. 'I promise. I just want to go!' I said for the last time hurriedly running past him and out the back kitchen door. I walked two or three blocks down Chester Avenue towards home before the pain in my arm began hurting to the point of being almost unbearable. I tried thinking of what to say to my parents as to how I had injured my arm and decided to tell them I had dove from the diving board and hit the bottom of the pool, but then decided that would not be a good explanation for they would blame Mr. Huff for not taking me to the emergency room for treatment. My friend Richard Pellerin's mother was a very kind and sweet lady.  I was only a few blocks from their home and decided to go there and explain my injury as an accident so she could take me to a doctor and have me treated without, hopefully, my parent's knowing of my injury. I was not certain at that point if my arm was broken or not, but if it was at least it would be treated before I returned home so that Mom would be spared the shock of seeing me hurt. Mrs. Pellerin was very sympathetic to my mother's illness, and I felt I could convince her to help me to protect my mother from being told any truth that would be detrimental to her health. My plan worked and as quickly as I arrived at her home and explained my alibi, Mrs. Pellerin drove me to The Bakersfield Hospital Emergency Clinic. Much to my naivety I did not know that a doctor could not administer treatment to me, unless it was an extreme emergency, without a parent's approval. Therefore, Mrs. Pellerin phoned my home and gently explained the situation to Mom so that she would not panic her. Mom spoke with the doctor and with her approval he forced my arm back into its socket stating that my arm was not broken, but rather badly strained. It would not have to be put into a cast but I would have to wear an arm sling for several days. 'Now tell me how you really injured your arm,' he asked. 'I told you. I was diving in a swimming pool and hit the bottom on my shoulder. I didn't know I hurt it so bad until about an hour later. That's why I came here.' 'Don't lie to me, son,' he continued. 'You have several bruises caused by a man's hand on the back on your arm. Those are the marks of a man's hand, not a boy's. Now tell me, who did this to you?' 'I told you the truth. I swear I did,' I replied. For the first time I began to realize that my story was not planned well enough to explain my injury. 'Has someone molested you?' the doctor asked.  Doing my best to hide my fear I answered, 'No! Nothing like that ever happened. I told you I hit the bottom of the pool. Maybe someone pulled me out of the water? Yeah, that's what happened.' 'Very well, son. Wait here for a few minutes and I will be back,' the doctor replied as he left the room. The wait for his return seemed an eternity, but in truth it was probably only a matter of twenty minutes. There was no doubt that he was suspicious of my story and I was more fearful than I can begin to tell you. When he finally reentered the room there were two uniformed police officers with him. I can still recall the horrible feeling I felt in the pit of my stomach when I saw them. 'You're going to have to leave with these officers, son.' The doctor stated matter-of-factly, 'They are going to have to ask you a few questions and fill out a report regarding how you received your injury.' In order to get me to make my confession they had to deceive me. I was young and foolish enough to believe them when they stated that if I confessed the whole incident they would keep the truth from my parents. I told them how terribly ill my mother was and that if she should get badly upset by anything it could be detrimental to her health. They promised me nothing I said would reported to my parents, and so in my fear and innocence I told the entire embarrassing story to the officers. When I had finished the confession one of the officers left the interrogation room. When he reentered, both of my parents were with him. This remembrance remains to be one of the most traumatic of my life. The shame and humiliation I felt while my parents listened to the officer read my confession was beyond agonizing. I was so ashamed I could not look any one in the eye. I sat there totally humiliated listening to my mother weep. 'That son-of-a-bitch!', Dad yelled, 'That perverted son-of-a-bitch! How the hell could you let him do this to you? Why did you let him do this to you?' 'Because I was afraid. I tried to stop him but I couldn't because he was bigger than me,' I answered honestly. 'Well you didn't try hard enough!', Dad bellowed. 'He would have had to kill me first before I would have let this happen! You should have fought harder!' 'Stop it Bud!', Mom interrupted. 'Wally had his arm pulled out of its socket. How much harder could he have tried to get away? Now calm down and stop this! This was not Wally's fault.' 'He could have tried harder!', Dad continued. Both police officers tried reasoning with my father, but to no avail. Soon after, Dad went with one of the officers to sign papers to have Mr. Huff arrested, while the other officer drove Mom and I home. What followed were some of the most confusing and frightening days of my life. My parents chose not to discuss what they knew regarding Mr. Huff's circumstances since his arrest. It was therefore difficult for me to clearly perceive the actions my confession had caused for him. I was told that he had been arrested the afternoon of my confession and that he had not denied the charges brought against him. Not realizing how the law operated I agonized that my confession might lead to his execution and, despite what he had put me through, I could not reason or comprehend how a short, yet violent, sexual confrontation could deem such a penalty as the taking of a man's life."  

Dr: "Are you saying that you felt guilty about your confession? Despite the fact that this man molested you, you took pity on him?"

WW: "Yes, I think I did pity him. He had seemed so frightened when he begged me not to tell anyone what he had done to me. He seemed sincerely regretful and I think, being a young and naive boy, I pitied him and despite the fact I did fear him·I forgave him. Pathetically, as I look backward in retrospect, I believe now that what I could not have reasoned or put into words at that time was the fact that I had destroyed the life of someone who found me desirable or worthwhile for whatever reason. I was a boy of such low self-esteem, or self-worth, that I believe I allowed sexual abuse to be a form of flattery to my then near non-existent ego. Someone had deemed me 'special' no matter how pathetic the reason, and I had betrayed my promise of keeping silent and had thus slain him. I was young, vulnerable, naive and confused and felt terribly responsible for having shattered someone's life."

Dr: "I understand. I understand what you are saying. From a child's prospective there was no true understanding of the seriousness of what had occurred."

WW: "Yes, that is true.  Also the fact that I feared the man. A few days after his arrest I was told by my mother that Mr. Huff had been released on bail until the court proceedings. I panicked that he was going to find a way to kill me so that I could not confess what he had done to me in front of a judge at his trail. I did not know, in that I was a minor, I would not be brought into the court hearing. I assumed I would have to accuse him in front of a Judge and then wait for his sentencing. Therefore, I thought that if Mr. Huff murdered me before the trial there would be no evidence to convict him and therefore it would be to his advantage to do away with me. There were four windows covered in cottage curtains on the wall to the right of my bed. Because of the extreme heat of Bakersfield summers I would always leave the windows open to help cool me during the night. After I heard that Mr. Huff was out of jail on bail I closed and locked them every night, afraid he might enter through them and kill me. Late one dark early morning a powerful earthquake struck Bakersfield. For some reason it did not wake me. However, when I awoke in the morning my bed was covered with shattered glass. I had probably tossed and turned throughout the night and when I awoke I saw that I had been cut by the glass in several places upon my body. When I saw  blood on my sheets I panicked and began screaming uncontrollably. I thought that Mr. Huff had attacked me during the night and that I was bleeding from his beating. It was then that Mom first realized the fear I had been keeping inside. She talked quietly with me for quite a long time and I shared my anxieties with her. I was terrified not only of Mr. Huff revenging me, but also of my friends and teachers finding out that he had molested me. I worried that this incident might be published in the paper. I had so many fears surrounding this incident that I think it is amazing I survived that period of time as well as I did. After our talk Mom decided it would be best for me to go and spend the summer with her parents in Santa Cruz until Mr. Huff's court hearing was over. I begged her not to send me away because I was worried about my dog Cindy. I had never been away from her before and I was also afraid that Mr. Huff might kill her to revenge me. 'Please Mom, I don't want to leave Cindy. She wouldn't know what to do without me here to take care of her,' I pleaded. Because of my anxiety over my dog's well being, Mom assured me that I would not have to go away for the summer. Dad on the other hand had a different plan! 'You're going to do what your mother said', he started sharply. 'Forget about that damn dog! You're going away for the summer.' I pleaded with him that he please let me stay at home with Cindy, but he had already made up his mind that I should go. What he was to do next would sever my relationship with him for the rest of our lives. My refusal to go to Santa Cruz that summer would cause me one of the greatest regrets of my lifetime."

Cindy

Dr: "I have an idea of what would happen next. I hope it is not what I am thinking. Well ,I won't say what it is I think happens next. Please go on. Did your refusal to leave your dog provoke 'The Monk' to reappear?"

WW: "Yes, it did. Unknowingly and unintentionally it did.  That same evening, before 'lights out' I was lying in bed reading a book. Unannounced, as always Dad, or rather 'The Monk', burst into my room. 'It is not your mother's job to feed and take care of that damn dog!', he said while pointing at Cindy who was sleeping on the pillow next to mine.  'And it certainly isn't mine,' he continued. 'I told you that dog was going to be a problem around here but you wouldn't listen to me. You had to have your way and manipulate your mother behind my back to spite me! Well I have news for you, Punk! You're going to do what you're told to do for a change! You're getting the hell out of here and going away for the summer, dog or no dog!' Without my saying a word he quickly exited my room. The next morning during breakfast, and throughout the entire day, not one word was ever mentioned regarding his previous night visit. I remember that it rained on this day. Rain was almost unheard of in Bakersfield in June. After dinner I took Cindy outside to potty, shielding her from the rain with my umbrella. When we came back into the house Mom and Dad were both in the living room watching TV so I put Cindy on my lap and we sat and joined them. Dad turned to me and said, 'Hey, Wally·it's time to put that dog out to pee. 'I just had her out,' I answered. 'We just came back inside. She already did it.' 'Don't argue with me, damn it!', he snapped. 'Why do you always have to argue? Do as I say! Put that dog out to pee!' He got out of his chair, walked over to me and grabbed Cindy from my arms then walked to the front door and opened it. It was raining so hard that water splashed on the threshold of the doorway and into the house. Dad placed Cindy of the floor then commanded her, 'Go outside and pee!' My dog, reluctant to go into the rain, cowered on the floor and crawled backwards into the room. 'I said to get the hell outside!', Dad bellowed while giving the dog a kick on the rump. 'Wait! I'll take her out,' I yelled while running to the door to pick up my dog. Before I could reach her Dad kicked her again. Cindy was so frightened and confused she snapped at his shoe but did not make contact with it. 'God damn it! That dog bit me! That damn dog bit me! I will not have a dog that turns on me in this house! That dog is leaving this house tomorrow morning! I'm taking that dog to the pound!' Terrified by his words I stood up to her defense. 'She did not bite you. She just snapped at you because you  kicked her and scared her. She didn't bite you at all. She was only trying to protect herself.''  'Don't you call me a liar, God damn it! That dog bit me and she is going to the pound! I will not have a dog that bites in this house!'  I looked across the room to Mom who was sitting on the sofa. I could tell by the look on her face that she was as frightened by my father's threats as was I. She rose from the sofa and walked towards us. 'Wally, take Cindy outside. Hurry! Take her outside as your father told you to do, then go on to bed.' Her voice was calm but I could hear a nervous quiver to it. 'Bud, please. Don't do this. This is not the way. Please? Let's not do this? This is not the way.' I quickly grabbed my dog and ran with her into the nearby garage to shelter us from the rain. From inside the house I could hear my parents talking. 'Why am I always the one that's guilty around here?', Dad pleaded. 'Why am I always the bad guy? Why always me?', he whined. I shivered as I heard him say this. Only a few years prior to this I had heard Guy Foss say these very same words right after he had killed Brutus. Dad's voice had had the same whining sound to it as did Guy's when he pleaded for my mothers understanding. I'm not certain how long Cindy and I waited in the garage before I heard my mother calling me softly from the back door. 'Wally·come inside and go to bed now. Bring Cindy with you. Everything is all right. Bud is in bed.' I ran quickly across the small space between the garage and the house carrying Cindy into the kitchen with me. 'Oh, Mama please help me,' I whispered. 'Please don't let him take Cindy away from me. Please Mama. Please help us,' I begged. 'Shhhhh·', she whispered back to me. 'I will take care of everything. Just run quickly to bed.' Without turning on the lights, I quickly undressed and buried Cindy and myself beneath the covers. Far too frightened to sleep I just laid there listening to my parents muted voices coming from their bedroom. Within an hour their mumblings ceased and I assumed they had fallen asleep. I did not sleep at all that night. I just lay there trying to think of a way to save my dog from being taken away. A couple of hours later, deep in to early morning hours before the light, I heard my bedroom door open. I clenched my eyes closed tightly pretending to be asleep for I knew 'The Monk' had entered my room. In that dreaded low quivery voice he used to intimidate me I could hear him whispering hateful things, his mouth close to my ear. 'Hey, Punk·you're not getting your way this time. You're leaving here...like it or not. You're not going to create any more trouble between Julia and me. Do you hear me? Do you hear me, Punk?' I lay there motionless, barely breathing, feigning sleep. 'You know something?', he continued. 'The only reason you are alive is because your mother cried one night. The doctors told her she could die if she became pregnant but she said she would rather die then not have a child. That is the only reason you were ever born. I didn't want to bring a kid into this world, she did. You could have killed her! I didn't want a kid at all.' Then silently, as silently as he had entered the room, he exited it. I pondered the meaning of all he had said until morning's light. That morning I got out of bed very early. I decided it would be best to put Cindy out in the backyard before Dad would come into my room to wake me. So I did that·I put Cindy outside and then got back into my bed hoping that I would not see my father until Mom was also awake. In a short while I could hear him banging dishes and pots in the kitchen as he prepared breakfast.  I dressed slowly and worked up the courage to go into the kitchen and join him. Dad was just about finished poaching the eggs so I asked him if he would like me to make the toast. While I was doing that I spoke with him. The night before I had planned things to say that I though might convince him not to take Cindy away to the pound. 'Dad, I apologize for last night. What happened was really my fault and I hope that you will please forgive me. I should have put Cindy outside like you said. I'm sorry for what happened. Will you forgive me?' All he said was, 'What happened has happened. You'll live and learn.' 'It will never happen again. I promise that. I promise it will never happen again,' I pleaded. 'No it will not! That is a fact!' He was in a very somber and tense mood. I knew it best not to keep talking when he was in moods such as this, so the two of us just sat there eating our breakfast in silence when finally Mom entered the kitchen. She gave us both a kiss on the cheek then sat at her place at the table and poured herself a cup of coffee. She tried to make light talk, just chatter·pretending that the event of the night before had not happened. Finally Dad announced it was time for him to leave for work. He kissed Mom goodbye and then left through the back door and started the engine to his truck. I walked to the kitchen window to watch him leave so that I could go outside and get Cindy and bring her into the house. Suddenly and unexpectedly I saw Cindy's head rise and look out from the passenger window of Dad's truck. I felt as if someone slammed me with their fist in the stomach! I started screaming, 'No! No! No! Oh, God! Please, no!' as I ran outside trying to stop Dad from leaving. Before I could get to the driveway he was already speeding away. I ran after his truck waving my arms above my head wildly screaming, 'Please stop! Please, please stop!'"

Dr: "Oh, my God! I was afraid you were going to tell me he took your dog. He took her to the pound didn't he? He actually took her to the pound? I had a feeling this was going to happen."

WW: "Yes, he did. That was the moment in time that I ceased ever loving my father, or ever hoping or trying to. I withdrew into myself at that very moment and never really came forward again. I retreated somewhere within side myself to that place which is somehow beyond hurting. I became listless after that moment·a zombie. The following years in which we lived together, I never let myself, the real me, emerge. Whenever I was with him, or around him, I presented a hollow side of myself·a side that never reacted of felt. I just did as I was told. I never questioned. I never rebelled. I suppose one could say I totally surrendered to his will without caring. I was totally indifferent to him from that day forward."

Dr: "You mentioned earlier in this interview that you never really ever felt hatred towards anyone. Surely you felt hatred towards Bud for having so maliciously taken your dog from you?"

WW: "Yes, I suppose I did. I must have, but I never plotted to hurt him or retaliate for what he had done·not in a violent or vicious way at least. I do recall that this incident was the first time in my life I ever withdrew from my mother. Although both she and I begged him for the next few days to please go to the pound and reclaim Cindy, I was so deeply hurt that I blamed Mom for not making that happen. She did beg him, she pleaded and she even fought with him to get Cindy back for me, but it was to no avail. Dad was adamant that Cindy deserved what she got and that it was he who was the innocent one unfairly receiving our blame. He accused Mom and I of rejecting him and claimed that we two were at blame for not being more concerned about him. As for myself, I hurt so deeply from having lost Cindy that I just withdrew into myself to numb myself from the pain of her loss. I pulled away from Mom. I pulled away from everything. Well anyway·two or three days after this incident Bud got his way and I was sent to stay with my grandparents in Santa Cruz."

Dr: "Do you think that Bud's getting rid of your dog, Cindy, was his way of making you leave home that summer?"

WW: "Most likely. I'm sure that was part of it. Dad had so many facets to the two sides of his 'Jeckle and Hyde' nature that it was never just a simple cut and dried 'he did this because'. When he became 'The Monk' he became clever and cunning and sadistically mean. When 'The Monk' surfaced his behavior was so abnormal it was beyond understanding."

Dr: "And so you were sent to Santa Cruz for the rest of that summer of 1957?"                                                                   

WW: "Yes. My bus was scheduled to depart at 6:00 AM. Despite the early hour Mom insisted on driving to the depot with Dad and I to see me off. I asked her not to come and I did this because I wanted to punish her. I had not yet forgiven her for not finding away to bring Cindy home. 'It's your first trip away from home all by yourself and I want to be there to say goodbye to you,' she argued. 'Of course I will be there.' Despite the reason she gave I knew her true reason for coming along was that she knew I did not want to be alone with my father. I did not want to eat breakfast that morning but Dad insisted that I do so, and therefore I quickly ate the poached eggs and toast he had fixed, then hurried to my bedroom and got my suitcase and then lugged it to the car. My parents followed close behind me and then took their places in the car beside me. 'Just one minute!', Mom exclaimed. 'I need my purse. I left it on my bedroom dresser. Wally, run back inside the house and get it for me, please?' I did as she asked. Reaching for her purse I noticed a small round wooden bowl setting beside it. This was the place where my Father kept small amounts of change. I lifted the lid and removed five penny's that I quickly sorted from amongst all the nickels and dimes. Next I scampered into the kitchen and took several toothpicks from the holder next to the napkins on our breakfast table. In a dash I was in the bathroom where I hid three pennies and three toothpicks in various spaces on the floor. Finished there I hurried through the kitchen to the back door, turned around and closed my eyes, then tossed the remaining toothpicks and pennies on the linoleum floor.

"When we arrived at the Greyhound Station my bus was already boarding. There were only two other passengers already aboard. Mom put her arms around my shoulders and hugged me to her. 'Goodbye, Sweetie,' she whispered. 'I miss you already. Please have a wonderful time and know that I will miss you every moment.' She then kissed me twice pressed her cheek next to mine. She whispered, 'Shhhhhhh!' as I felt her hand slip some paper money into my pocket·money I knew she had secretly stolen from Dad. 'I love you so much, Sweetie,' she said with one final squeeze. 'Please forgive me? I tried so hard to reason with your Father. Please, please forgive me,' she whispered. It hurts to remember this moment, but I did not answer her. I was so resentful of what had happened that I just turned away from her without a word and did not kiss her nor say goodbye. As I turned to board the bus I walked quickly past my father pretending not to notice that he had extended his hand to shake mine. Climbing the stairs into the cabin I could hear his voice from behind me. 'Hey! Aren't you even going to say goodbye to me?' Having reached the top I turned around to face him. 'Sure,' I said without expression, 'Goodbye. I'm sorry I won't be around to clean the house for you. You're going to have to handle it all by yourself now.' I took a back seat next to a window and watched Mom wave goodbye to me as my bus drove away. I did not wave back. Instead I rudely pulled the window shade down to block myself from her view. I cried inside knowing how much I was hurting her. I saw the sad expression in her eyes knowing that I had withdrawn from her. In a short while we were on Highway 99 in the outskirts of town. I raised my window shade and stared outside at the seemingly endless number of oil well derricks that boarded the roadway and beyond. Only one year ago Mom and I had ridden a train through these fields. 'Look, Mom!', I had exclaimed. 'Oil wells! Are we near Bakersfield? For goodness sake! Why didn't you tell me that Bakersfield grew oil? Do you remember when I was sick with 'Susan-I-tis' and God kept showing me pictures of oil wells? Well I didn't know it then but He was giving me previews of coming attractions that you and I were going to move to Bakersfield in the future so that you would remarry my Dad·but I didn't know Bakersfield had oil wells so I was just too stupid to know what God was trying to tell me then. If you had told me about the oil wells I would have known!' Seeing them now I wondered why I had ever thought the derricks to be pretty? I was also angry at myself for having believed I had received a wondrous message from God. So much difficulty had happened in my life since our move here that I regretted ever having seen them at all for they did not prove to be symbol of good omen as I thought God had intended for them to be. I shut my eyes to dismiss them as if they had betrayed me and tried to turn my thoughts to pleasanter things. I did not dare to think of Cindy for I knew if I did I would cry. Instead I thought about the look on my father's face when he would discover the toothpicks and pennies I had left behind to torment him. I could see his face reddened with anger as he found each and every one of them while scrubbing the floors. By the time he discovered them I would be too far away for him to punish me. For the first time in a long, long time I found my smile. I covered my mouth with my hands so that the lady across the isle from me would not see me looking foolish, sitting there giggling idiotically to myself. I was not at all ashamed to admit to myself that I was enjoying imagining the delicious pleasure of my revenge."

The End Of Part 12

Next Month

"The Law Of Grace"

Part 13

"In Touch With His Soul"

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