Lucy, thank you. Once grown, all I could ever think of was having children of my own and treating them as I wished I had been treated. When my daughters told me how they have only fond memories of growing up, in spite of a divorce, I almost cried.
BTW, my parents weren't JW either. Back in the 50's, there was pretty much no such thing as child abuse. Probably the worst incident I remember was once when my Mom was supposed to have us kids do something, I've forgotten what now. I was maybe 7 at the time. She forgot to tell us went off to be with my Dad at work. When he got home and saw it wasn't done, all hell broke loose. My sisters, who apparently were much smarter than me, just said sorry. I stood up and said we were never told. They got minor spankings and I got the crap beat out of me and then locked in a darkened room during one of the most violent eletrical storms to hit South Florida, for the evening. Why? Because I called my Mom a liar, I was told. To this day, I cringe at the sound of thunder, partly due to that episode and partly due to Vietnam.
After reaching adulthood, I tried a couple times to have a normal relationship with my parents, but it just wasn't to be. My Dad died in 1980 from a massive heart attack, brought on I believe by many many years of excessive drinking and fatty foods. When ever I was around my Mom after his death, the first thing she would mention was how we were lied to about our upbringing and that we were so loved and never abused. Sorry, Mom, but I remember it, I wasn't told it. Right up to her death last year, she maintained I made it all up and was just a horrible rotten person. Mind you, I never mentioned any of it to her.
Currently, I am talking to a nephew of mine, from my older sister, who was raised around my Mom. He has been to prison twice and is trying to get his act together. He has some brain damage due to being struck in the head too many times by my Mom. My sister would never do anything about it and I wasn't there, being out west here for my own daughters. Why my older sister satyed around there, I'll never know. But all 7 of her kids have problems related to my Mom raising them. Three of the four boys have been in prison, two still are. Hardly any of them speak to each other any more. Such a mess.
But, at least I was able to do as I always wanted and raise my daughters in a loving environment and today, I am there for them anytime they need me and they are there for me. So far, two wonderful grandsons and who knows what next? They too will be raised with love and never have to wonder if anyone loves them.
Lew W