I was part of one den one year, which was great, but then the next year I was part of another den which I had until I quit. I had some friends, like Pat Carlton and Andy Oman, but some people I'd rather not mention were on their way to juvnile deliquency. The den leader was a nice guy who worked for some important satellite firm, and got called away a lot, leaving his mousy wife in charge. She couldn't even control her own kids, much less us, and things got so bad, I got hit my a meat cleaver in the face when her own son was fooling around in the attic (I still have a deep scar across the bridge of my nose).
The chair I am holding was the result of one of my parent's biggest fights. They needed new dining room chairs, and someone (I forgot who) wanted "comfortable chairs," but someone else didn't want to pay for them. The one who wanted them ordered them, and there was a lot of simmering anger for about a year. These chairs were about $500 each back in 1978 and we got 4; I can't imagine that in 2006 dollars. But they were very comfy. My mother covered them with plastic to keep the cats off, and I wasn't allowed to sit in them unless we had a family dinner around the table, which happened about 3 times a year.
During one of my father's severest beatings, I had curled up under one of these chairs to protect my spine from my father's merciless kicking (which led to a minor concussion and my lungs bleeding for a few days) after I threatened to tell on him to the police for hurting me so much. A few years later, social workers finally got involved, and most of the abuse stopped.
But the part I like about this picture is behind me is one of my mother's biggest works of art. I think she did this piece in 1969-1970. My father most likely tossed it out after she died. :(
This picture was also my grandmother's and was scanned by my uncle when my grandmother died in 2004. I lost most of my childhood photos in a flood back in 1992.