Dropping a Dime on Dad
Sometimes I remember things that I've forgotten or suppressed. Today I remembered: On the evening news (Channel 7, ABC) Roger Grimsby talked about how people can report child abuse by calling the operator. That was just a setup.
I was in our house on East 48th, it was daytime, and I sneaked into my parent's bedroom to use their phone. I was young, and this may have been the first phone call I made. It was a rotary phone. I called the operator. I remember how long it took for the dial to rotate through all the digits.
"Operator". I told her, I wanted to report my father for child abuse. She asked a question and I said, he hits me a lot.
Then I heard my father come on the line, using the kitchen phone. He was a shift-worker; my mother was out. He said, who's on this phone? I said, I am. That was an insufficient answer because he said, Who are you talking to? The operator identified herself.
Over the phone line my father asked, what are you calling the operator for? And I said, child abuse, I'm reporting you for child abuse. He told me, get off this phone and I hung up. He talked to her for a while.
I don't remember the middle space, and that often means he beat me with the belt. I remember the event wrapping up by him telling me that what he does is not child abuse; that I'm not allowed to use the phone to report things; and I should never do this again. I remember it in such a Dragnet, matter-of-fact calm way, but it must have been a significant day.
In a bizarro demonstration of how my family worked, this become a funny anecdote that my parents would tell people about.
I don't have a lot of clear memories now of my father hitting me. I do have a lot of blank spots. I've started to remember more details, bits and pieces. I was doing an EMDR session recently and I experienced an overpowering smell of lemons. I've never been in a citrus grove, but I remembered that when he'd whip me with the belt I'd be face-down on our couch, with plastic slipcovers and built-up Lemon Pledge.
I have stories from my siblings. I remember a few times that he didn't hit me, or stopped hitting me after just one or two, and I thought that was remarkable.
This afternoon, authorities identified a 54-year-old Local Man who took his life by jumping from the Casino parking lot.