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We lived in one room, all 27 of us , no heat or running water and half the floor was missing. After dark the red eyes of vermin glowed enough for us to read by. When we misbehaved, mum made us stand outside is the blustery frost on the filthy ground and would hit us with a aluminum baseball bat if we even thought about shivering. When we were hungry, she made us take turns licking the same dried out potato peel at dinner time and sometimes she would let us chew tree bark for lunch but only if we were able to run her gauntlet of strewn broken glass--barefoot. Breakfast was even worse: egg McMuffins. We would collect our tears of despair in a dilapidated Dixie cup and passed it around taking small sips so we would at least get some fluids.
Those were the days.
Mum's with the Lord now. (knife fight at the Dew Drop Inn during quarter a beer night)
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