Who's to bless and who's to blame?

Though the past lies in the dust of yesterday, some of it clings to me.

I earned my stripes as a child in a small college town.

My father served as head of the journalism department. My mother, who worked at Phillips Petroleum during World War II, taught for a time at the high school, but eventually became a lady who lunches.

I never, not once, heard my parents argue. While this may sound utopian, in reality I missed out on a valuable skill. I lack the ability to argue without taking the words personally. I walk away before I argue.

My parents did not spoil me; but I never lacked for something they considered essential. I had ballet lessons, music lessons. I played softball. I got my first car as a senior -- an almost 20-year-old Chevrolet that we called Old Brown. Dad won Old Brown in a poker game, though I did not know this for years.

My parents spanked, though not often. Two times stick out. A young friend and I decided to walk to my dad's office. We made it. I was 4. The other time involved misbehaving in public. I had to wait a couple of hours for that spanking. My conscience worked overtime that day.

My parents came from large families. In the early years, we made the journey to grandparents' houses for Thanksgiving and Christmas. The grandparents lived a hour or so apart, so we would spend time at both sets. I had bunches of cousins. Good times.

When I was older, I spent a couple of weeks in the summer with my grandparents and a cousin. My grandparents owned a small weekly newspaper in an area that was drying up even then. There in that dusty, dark shop, I fell in love with newspapering.

The rhythmic slap of the old press mesmerized me. The literal bells and whistles of the Linotype. The rollers that applied ink on the small job press. The shiny metal ingots transformed into liquid silver. The big, backward wooden letters in their drawers.

My parents did not hug nor show affection. Was there love? I think so. But not what my soul craved. As a consequence, I yearn for affection but shy from someone's touch. A total mess.

Life goes on. I wish you peace.

Later.