Relogged
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Jai Guru Deva OM
Eating dinner at my house was pretty much a thirty minute game of survival-of-the-
most-invisible for the three of us kids. The cleverest of the bunch was able to duck under dad’s radar and avoid pressing whatever hot-button was always brewing just below the surface for him. Often it was a racism issue or a sex or religion issue or something to do with a current popular song on the radio which fueled–in his mind– an increasing cultural depravity of the generation of anti-establishment teenagers who now occupied his classrooms.
Dad hated religion but he hated what society became in its absence even more. I don’t know that he recognized the dichotomy there but it kept him embroiled in an emotional battle that he foisted on his owns kids as he constantly prodded and poked us about concepts he’d caught wind…
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nutsrok.wordpress.com 
Thank you for this reblog! I was a little worried about posting this story but come to find out there are tons of people who remember the strange dinner-time antics from the 60’s and 70’s. Also, It occurred to me that I’ve been calling you Beth when your first name is Linda! You’d think as similar as our stories are I’d have known your damn name.
I still say we are twins separated somewhere along the way. xx
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I’ll bet your hiney got warmed just like mine did!
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Everyday…
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