JULY 1969

I had just gone to bed, my seven year old mind exploring my imagination, turning thought into dream. The moon was a warm slice of yellow in my window, an expanse of stars winking down at me as I drifted off to sleep. I could hear the tv on in the living room, a comforting reminder that my parents were still awake and the monsters under my bed would stay away tonight.

That’s when I bolted awake by a knock at the front door downstairs. It was such a sharp contrast to the comforting murmur of the tv that my mind went on full alert as the noise echoed into the house. I sat up in bed, irritated, clutching Growls, my teddy bear. I heard the heavy footsteps of my father walk to the door, probably expecting a neighbor.

The familiar creak of the front door was followed by the muted murmur of conversation. I could hear my father’s voice speaking, interrupted on occasion by another male voice I didn’t recognize. My mother joined the conversation and I could hear my father getting angry.

Minutes stretched on as the mysterious late night visitor continued to talk with my parents. I slid out of bed and went to my bedroom door, peaking my head out to listen. I still couldn’t make out the words but I could tell my father was getting furious. He started yelling and I heard him demand that the visitor leave our house or he was calling the police.