in the years us kids were in school, mom turned on the afternoon soaps popularized in the 60’s when beautiful actors played the rich and powerful, lush with love, desire, secrets, betrayal, with enough realism to forget the acting and produce at least one hand-over- mouth shocker of a moment each episode maybe mom lived another life during those hours, finding characters she was attracted to and those hated for deceit, treachery she never discussed those afternoons

as an amateur therapist, I notice I can’t stop myself from shooting arrows at fat bellies, aloof faces, loud mouths, weird haircuts, the oddly walking and strangely dressed aren’t judgments the invisible projectiles you find hard to stop slinging at people? sure, while many bounce off or miss some hit their target and those people’s poor souls must look like pin cushions but stop and get to know one, talk, have a laugh, share the things you have in common and an easy

I never lived where screaming arguments drowned out music, where things of glass were thrown, or doors slammed, fists swung or tears turned into wails a lot of people tell me they had some kind of madness at home I guess I was lucky growing up in a place not too different from a lazy Sunday morning, far from any drunken Saturday night