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My mother was raised by alcoholic parents, who lived and breathed alcohol as if there was no tomorrow; yet from what I was told, were good people. They were honest, giving and most of all had a zest for life. My grand-parents on my mothers side gave birth to six children; three girls and three boys; Penny, Donald, Brad, Suzanne, Donna, and Mitch (In that exact order). My grandfather, Ivan, served in World War II, and had to leave my grandmother Liz (Elizabeth) at home with their only child at the time, my aunt Penelope “Penny”. While gone, my grandpa saw many horrid things. I can remember him to this day sitting at that kitchen table, plastered out of his mind after drinking a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer by noon, telling me and my brothers some of the things he saw and went through in Germany, all the while in tears. We were told about all the starving people, some in which they had to shoot on the spot for there was no help for them (they called it being humane for they put them out of their misery.) The things he told us of blood, horror and death should never have been mentioned to me or my brothers at that young of an age. It scared us and also left us feeling so much empathy for grandpa that we had feelings of guilt which lasted for years. All we could say afterwards was, “Poor grandpa, Why him?” Yet, we continued the once-twice a week ritual of visiting grandpa and hearing all over his vicious war stories and watching him almost crumble into a little ball full of what seemed, endless tears. The guilt was sometimes unbearable.
My Grandfather Ivan always wanted a kiss goodbye before you left. That to most people would seem normal, but when it involves his tongue actually entering your mouth each and every time, that is called molestation. As long as I can remember Grandpa Ivan would always want his kiss goodbye and I would beg and plead with my mother to NOT make me kiss him. I told her that he was grossing me out by always sticking his tongue in my mouth and she would always insist that I kiss him anyway. That it was just Grandpas way of showing affection and he didn’t mean it in any perverted way. Yeah right. Who sticks their tongue in their grandchild’s mouth as an act of affection? I KNEW from that point on that it was abnormal and not something which should be inflicted upon children; especially from their Grandfather. For the first time my eyes were just beginning to open, but this time they would stay open.
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