don't say anything....cont'd

have needed to sit quietly to be with emotions stirred up while recounting most recent tale revealed from childhood.
would not have been possible even 6 months ago, as even then i had no idea how to cope with sudden triggers into a confusing convuluted implosion of rage, pain, horror, terror, helplessness, loneliness, disappointment and indignance, as well as some twisted sense of guilt and shame i barely comprehend to this day.

having studied somewhat regarding "battered child syndrome" i understand it's typical for the "hostage" child to believe that the extreme corporal punishment was somehow deserved.
this has been true of me.

the tale continues....

we returned to the house and headed to our room, not a word spoken between any of us, although i could see my mother had been crying.

we gingerly peeled off our clothes and went to assess the damage in the mirror....our backs, butts and legs were almost completely covered with purple welts, and needless to say, i was experiencing an intense headache.

"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"

what was there to do or say ? nothing !!!

we were left alone that day, each of us not having much of an appetite, while neither of our parents ventured upstairs to check on us....again, it seemed that life was to continue on as if this horrific episode had never occured.

my brother and i decided it was time to run away from home....yet again.

we awoke the next morning before dawn and made our escape with the collection money from our newspaper route....as i remember it was about $18 and change.

before embarking upon our great escape it was necessary to divide the money and stock up for the arduous journey.
we headed to the local confectionary and purchased the essentials, several comic-books each, as much candy as would fit in our pockets and of course, pop and cigarettes.
in those days there was no "I.D." ritual for yound children purchasing smokes.

we actually had a plan....brilliant even for our worldly selves.
we would take a bus to the eastern edge of the city and hitch-hike to the american border (about 40 miles away)....not having a clue how we would actually cross into the USA.
we would then continue to hitch-hike to a town we had seen on the buffalo TV channel's weather report....
tonawanda....how we determined this who knows ?
years later i was to learn from my mother that this was where her father had spent many of his early years....hmmmm ?
we were certain that if we went to a "nice" neighbourhood and just sat outside of a "nice" house, that the "nice" people would take us in and take care of us for life.
what a plan !

we actually made it about 10 miles or so....no rides, with a lot of determined walking.

at last, in the late afternoon we saw a highway bus heading the other way and decided to flag it down.
it actually stopped and soon we were headed back from whence we came.

of course we needed to formulate a realistic alternative survival strategy.

it wasn't long before determining that the best course of action was to head back to the area nearby our house and camp out in the "city yard" a block or so behind our residence.
at night we would sneak into our home through our well known secret entrance and raid the refrigerator for food.
again, a plan of genius !

not having learned our lesson regarding breaking and entering, we had arrived back in the downtown area just as darkness was settling in....and decided it would be a great idea to attempt to break into a restaurant we knew of that was closed.

that plan was quickly foiled by being heard clattering around in the alley behind the place.

it wasn't long before the police were searching for us in that back alley.....being small and flexible we found ourselves squeezed between several large empty wooden crates behind the local fish market.

holding our collective breaths and remaining still and silent, the cops finally gave up and left.

upon determining the coast was clear, we surfaced and headed towards the end of the alley to continue our journey towards "home ?"

there was a garage blocking this end of the laneway, and the only way to reach the street beyond was to scale it, climb over and down the other side.

this we did, and just as our feet hit the pavement, the police were there to nab us....the jig was up !

we were excorted about 5 blocks to the police station, walking beside the cop car.
we had actually gotten into the vehicle, but were immediately ordered out again, as we reeked of fish from the storage yard we had hidden in.

i will always remember that scene in the police station, wishing it would be possible to tell the real truth.
but that thought didn't last long.
in our minds, breaking the code of silence was unimagineable.
i often wondered what would have happened if the police had seen those horrible welts all over our bodies.

of course we were terrified again of our father, what would he do now ?

the police drove us to our house, but all were strangely quiet, my father seemed unusually subdued....i now understand he likely was aware of this too-close brush with the law and would not risk any more possible trouble to himself by punishing us any further.

the next day dawned and life was to continue....as though none of this had ever happened.

"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"