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Depression times – no one went out
To theatres, concerts, movie shows –
They had friends in or went to their homes.
The whole country was more than broke.
There was always drinking at the parties
And a low-lying cloud of cigarette smoke.
I didn’t like the parties my parents had. 
They were too loud, too over the top!
Sitting at the top of the stairs I watched.
People danced or sat on each other’s laps
And smoked and drank and sometimes smooched.
Apparently liquor was cheap and available.
Sometimes it got rowdy after a while
When everyone had a bit too much to drink.
Sometimes my mother passed out, and friends
Would laugh and lay her on the couch.
Later, there would be fights between my parents
And threats of one or the other leaving. 
I didn’t – couldn’t – understand the times –
That people had to let their hair down,
Let go of the tensions of their everyday lives
And that sometimes they went too far.
By turns I was scared, anxious, embarrassed
And mortified for my parents.
Once, when I was a little older, I came downstairs
And made a scene about the drinking.
My parents sent me off to bed with a sound
Scolding about being rude and obnoxious.
For many, many years, far into adulthood,
I would not drink, would not have liquor  
In the house for anyone else to drink.
I still have difficulty dealing with
Anyone who overindulges in alcohol.
Childhood experiences leave us with unseen scars.
When one feels one’s life is out of one’s control,
That becomes a permanent fear, and control
Becomes obsessively important.
My parents weathered those years,
And the ones that followed.
They were married for fifty years,
And I married and have my own family.
But I still find I want to be sure I have 
Everything in  my life under control.
That’s one reason I still drink very little.
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