Family Feud

If you’re reading along, I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. I know this must be hard, even for a stranger to read. I’m not looking for sympathy. Shit happens. There’s no need to express condolences, I’m years away from that. I just want to get the story down. At this time of year when I remember everything almost in slow motion, it just feels like the right time to write.

This is kind of jumpy, but I’m just writing as I’m reminiscing. Backup again. To the early years and having a baby. We lived in the flat above his parents for just a couple of months. Then we moved into a tiny house in Detroit. $60.00 a month rent. Perfect for then. After Traci was born we moved to a roomier apartment in Detroit. We stayed there until we bought our house in Lincoln Park, in 1970.

My mother in law Ruby and I got along just fine. She worked full time in a factory. Oh, I’m sure there were times when she was a little jealous. He was her boy. Her only child. She had another little girl who was just two years younger than Harm. She died at eighteen months old. Her name was Betty Lou Ratliff.

So Harm Jr. was her life. My father in law, Harm Sr. was another story completely. Harm loved him. He remembered when he was a good father. He was a disabled coal miner, collecting for black lung disease, VA benefits, whatever. It kept him from having to go to work. They moved up here from West Virginia in the late 1950s. He worked for Ford Motor Co. for a time, but ended up disabled somehow. I believe he collected from them too. Can you see the stage I’m setting here?

He also drank. A lot. And he was a mean drunk. And he did prescription pills. Many doctors, many many pills. He took them by the handful and washed them down with a beer. When he was sober he was ok. I didn’t love him, but he was ok. Sober wasn’t often. When we went to visit, it was all about Ruby. He wasn’t usually much fun to be around.

I’ll never forget one night we stayed overnight. Lying in bed with the door open. Hearing Harm pleading with his father out in the kitchen. Harm was in tears. He told him that he needed to quit the booze and pills. He told him, “Dad, you’re killing both Mom and me.” You know what the old man did? He laughed at him. Called him a crybaby and told him to go to bed and leave him alone. It broke my heart a little bit for Harm. He was so hurt. Needless to say, I had no use for his father after that.

Then came one Sunday morning in August, 1968. I was 7 months pregnant. We had spent the night at my MIL’s because FIL was on a drunken rant and she was scared to be alone if he came home. The night before he had wrecked his truck. He came looking for her car, but she’d hidden it in my parent’s garage miles away. She had to go back and forth to work and she didn’t want him screwing up her car too. Made sense to me.

So anyway, Sunday morning is here and I wake up to yelling in the other room. He’s back. Drunk as usual. Harm is sleeping through all this. He’s the hardest sleeper I’ve ever met. That’s why he was late on our first date, remember? So, I get up and get dressed. Walk to the front room, look outside and lo and behold. He’s under the hood of our car, trying to hot wire it!

I couldn’t believe it. Truth is, we didn’t have established credit so his mother co-signed the loan for us. Technically, it was in both Harm’s and his mom’s names. We were making the payments. He couldn’t find Ruby’s car so he intended to take ours. I was hot. I came down from the porch yelling for him to close the hood and move on. It wasn’t his car. It was ours. He wouldn’t listen, so of course I went right up to him and said something like, ”Look you drunken Son of a Bitch, leave our car alone. You can’t take it.”

Next thing I know, I’m flying backwards, into a tree. No shit. He hit me in the face so hard that it knocked my feet out from under me and I sat down. I couldn’t believe it. I was in absolute shock. I had never been hit before. Spankings, yes. A good smack across the mouth for mouthing off to my mother, yes. But not HIT. I was furious. And seven months pregnant. And afraid. So, I go up the steps to get Harm to get me out of here and Ruby blocked my way. I couldn’t believe it. First, He hit me, Second, She wouldn’t let me into her house. It took a very long time for me to forgive her for that one moment in time. But eventually, I understood and I forgave.

Harm’s aunt & uncle lived just a couple of doors up the street. Of course, with all the screaming and commotion, people were out all over the block. Anyway, I went to Aunt Pat’s house and used her phone to call for my father to come pick me up.

Well, when I tearfully told mama what had happened, she told my father, he went and got his rifle to kill Harm Sr with. She had to wrestle it away from him before he left the house. He’d never hit me, can you even imagine how furious he must have been? Being a parent, I think I get it now. Oh---meanwhile, remember that my Harm has slept through all of this. I can’t even imagine his reaction when his mom awoke him with all the current goings-on. I have to find a little humor here and there.

So, Daddy and I went to the Police Station. They took pictures of my bruised face--not bad really considering--and informed me that there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it. I was on His property, therefore I guess it’s ok to get hit. End of story. We couldn’t believe it.

Next stop, the Doctor’s Office. Mother had called Dr J and he came to his office even though it was a Sunday. Our family doctor for years who still delivered babies. He was a fun doctor. Drew pictures on my belly. Ahead of his time. He examined me. All appeared to be in good order. No problem with the baby, I was fine. But, he was pissed! Wanted me to pursue a lawsuit against Harm Sr. I just wanted it to be done. And I don’t regret that decision whatsoever.

All I could think about was Poor Harm. God, this was horrible for him. To pit his wife against his father. I knew I hated his father with all my heart and soul. I was DONE with him. Yet, I understood that this bastard was his father. Totally different relationship. And I never associated him with his father’s behavior. I didn’t want to ruin any relationship they could scrape out of all this. And my poor MIL was like me. She didn’t want any of this either. Yet, she chose to keep that asshole as her husband, so there was obviously loyalty there. And another loyalty to her son and his feelings. Not an easy spot for any of us to be in. Except for the drunk. He didn’t care about anything.

I’d vowed to never go to his parent’s house again. His mother was welcome at our house. His father welcome as long as I knew in advance so I didn’t have to be there. That’s the way it was for some months.