Where the Evil Came from

Pictures of my dad’s parents. Let me explain each picture and the thought process I have on his family. This first picture is of my Dad’s real father. Linwood. I remember very little of this man, other than when I was young I’d trip over his oxygen tube which was always running across the floor. I also remember him always pulling the nose piece away from his face to take drags of his cigarette. He passed away when I was little and not many stories of him were told.




This next picture is of my step grandfather Lester. He wasn’t the nicest man in the world that was for sure. He wasn’t nice to my grandmother at all and wasn’t very fawned of children. He actually killed his one and only biological son when I was little by backing over him with his truck. He knew his son (my uncle) was under his truck working on it, why would he jump in his truck to move it? It was investigated for a long time, but no punishment was implemented. He was always on his CB set, which his handle wasย  Silver Horse (not sure why). My mother kept us away from him for the most part. He was a very self centered and arrogant man to say the least. Looking at the picture, he looks like a good man that love’s dogs. Pictures are very deceiving! He passed away when I was 19.


Lastly, we have my grandmother, Glenda. You would think with 3 grandparents up here I’d have something wonderful to say. I don’t! Oh, maybe it explains why my father ended up being the way he was? Anyways, Glenda hated children and although was good to her own children (my aunt, 5 uncles, and dad), so I was told years later. she was not a good grandmother to her grandchildren. She was a very firm believer that children were to be seen and not heard. When we visited, we were not to touch anything, use inside voices inside and outside, and not ask for anything. By not ask for anything, I mean, no snack, no drink, no nothing. My mother always brought with her anything we might need. I remember on numerous occasions my mom and grandmother butting heads because of the way our grandmother spoke to us. She passed away when I was 15.


So that’s my dad’s parents in a nutshell.


12 Replies to “Where the Evil Came from”

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