When I was around 14 or 15 I was a bit of a snit. I thought that everyone owed me and since I was the baby; I should have it. By this time there was only mama, daddy and I living in the house, the other's had all flown the coop either through marriage, military service or living away from home. Now you have to understand and I can't possible reiterate this enough that I am the youngest of seven children. By the time I was feeling my oats, my parents had stopped feeding.

I had several little strange quirks that I tried on them during this time frame, mostly to see just how worn out they were. I decided that I would start calling them by their first names. Don't ask me why, I haven't a clue. All I know is that I awoke one morning and suddenly it was a great idea. So, for the next 4 or so weeks mama and daddy became "Lester and La Ferne" I thought it was pretty darn cool. "Hey Lester, you want some coffee?" "La Ferne did you wash my basketball uniform?" "Hey Lep ( a little nick name) you finished with the newspaper?" Boy, this was a breeze why hadn't I done this before. The only thing taking the joy out of it was the fact that it didn't seem to faze them. They just answered me, sometimes not even looking up as if I had said the most normal thing in the world. Well, this wasn't fun anymore......Spoil sports.

My older sister Sue and my other sis Karole came up from Baton Rouge for the weekend to visit. Now the fireworks would fly. No way would "Lester and LaFerne" let me do this in front of family.

The first time it happened I thought my sister Sue would drop dead where she stood. "What did you call him ?" she ask me. "Lester," I said. "Daddy are you going to let her get away with that?" Sue puffed. Daddy just kind of shrugged like no big deal to me Susie Q.

So it went on all weekend. By the time Sunday rolled around I was tired of the game. Shoot what's the use of shocking people if they don't respond (still have a problem with that). So, I said to myself, well this was a bust and went back to Mama and Daddy. I guess they were a lot smarter than I gave them credit. They knew if it was not even noticed that the fun would be gone for me...........Live and learn.

So my next shock treatment came in the form of the beginning of my Hippie days. Daddy came home from work one afternoon and after he had a cup of Seaport (never ask him anything before his coffee and paper) I casually said, "daddy, will you take my bed down for me, I want to sleep on the floor on a mattress"? Deep breathe in and wait for the fireworks again. He looked up from his paper and said just as calmly as if I had ask for a quarter, "yeah, if you can wait till after supper I'll do it." Geeeez what is up with these people, they were turning into boring parents in there old age.

So after supper as promised, daddy took my bed down and took it out to the shed. I now had a mattress on the floor, candles all around a huge Helter Skelter Poster on the wall; a little incense burning and Janis Joplin on the turn table. I was a HIPPIE!

I waited patiently for mama's response. If daddy didn't bite on this one she surely would. NOT. After about 6 weeks of this I begged daddy one afternoon to put my bed back up. He said calmly, " OK".

God what do you have to do around here to get feedback. I could grow up really screwed up like this.

And then just like always, be careful what you ask for; you just might get it. One night about a week after the bed was put back up mama told me to go in and do the supper dishes. I was reading Valley of the Dolls (although daddy had not a clue what it was about) and just flat didn't want to get up and put my book down. So, I kinda just ignored her. After about 5 minutes daddy cleared his throat and said in his best "DADDY" voice, "Kathalise, I think your mother told you to do the dishes didn't she" ? Well let's get your butt in there and do them!"

I got up off the couch and smiled my sweetest "you are all going to die one day" smile at him and said the only words you said to daddy at a time like this, "Yes Sir".

When I got in the kitchen the broom was next to the fridge and I don't know what happened, honest.......It just happened. I picked up the broom handle and in my most furious of gestures shook the broom towards the living room, stuck out my tongue and made an obscene gesture. I went about my business of washing dishes for about 3 or 4 minutes when I hear daddy go, "Kathalise, come here just a minute, and bring the broom with you please. No warning, no hints, no last meal, just EXECUTED in front of the press. "Now" he said, "show your mother what you just did to her!"

"What???????, I don't know what you mean". I knew he was good but not good enough to see through walls. No way did he know what I had done with that broom. Daddy ever so casually reached out his hand and took me by the arm, pulling me over to his recliner, he pointed his finger at the dining room window. OH NO!!!!!!!!! From daddy's recliner you could look at the dining room windows and see right back into the kitchen clear as a bell. "BUSTED". Then to add insult to injury he made me demonstrate to mama exactly what I had done. OH GOD, I'm dead. Dead, Dead. Gravedigger, dig me a grave.

She looked at me with a spiteful look on her face and said, "You will do the dishes for the next month every night. No matter what, no ball practice, no books, no TV, no radio; just clean the kitchen until it sparkles. Well as I said be careful what you ask for, I wanted fireworks and I got them. It did leave me scared. I never go past a window that I don't look to see what you can see from another point of view. I had become traumatized, emotionally scared for life. Those people were bad parents. ( wink) ;-)