Faith Talk and More

In December 1974, my dad's job took him—and what remained of our family at home (two younger brothers and our two pups, Mopsy and Toto)—to Pottstown, PA. My father allowed me to stay behind and finish my senior year of high school. I was a troubled kid, so I'm not sure why he placed any amount of trust in me. I had been actively using a variety of recreational drugs up to just a few months before this point (primarily speed, LSD, mescalin, etc), but I had stopped all of that activity after a frightening trip on LSD one night where I prayed to God that if I survived, I would straighten up. And I did. My parents allowing me to remain behind felt like they were ready to be done raising me. While I was grateful not to have to uproot my life and move with them, I quietly harbored resentment about it for years. It felt like they had given up on me. I recall them stopping by the apartment they had rented for my sister and me on their way out of town—one last goodbye. As my dad and mo...