Sunday morning at the pool hall

When my family first moved to Texas when I was twelve, things were a little rough. My dad had sold his car repair business and tried to start a fitness center. It seemed like things were going ok, when all the sudden we were moving in the middle of the night and my parents were talking about bankruptcy.

We ended up driving to Texas with a 1974 Dodge Dart, and a U-haul full of all our shit. My dad had scouted out for a rental house and a job the week before so we were supposedly all set.

We ended up spending a week in a holiday inn because the house my dad had picked out was one step away from being condemned. My mom was being pretty difficult about the whole situation.

Finally, we moved into a little shithole crackerbox house in a working class neighborhood. We immediately started cleaning the place. It was infested with roaches so big and tough that a size twelve combat boot just bounced off their armor shell. Lets just say, they ate Raid spray for breakfast.

My mom had thrown away everything that I owned when I was away that summer, so all I had was a mattress on the floor, a few clothes and some toys my grandmother had given me. I was used to it because every time she got mad about something she would put everything I owned in the trash. It seemed to work out. I never got attached to possessions or asked for anything and learned that material things were transitory at best..

I aways kept a tally of whatever they took from me so I could steal it back later. Seemed to work out ok. Hehehe.

My mom was really off the deep end from the stress of a new city, a shit house and new job so making everyone's life miserable her way to cope.

Me and dad were in the same boat dealing with mom's conniption fits and thankfully he began taking me out with him in the evenings and on weekends.

We found a large pool hall in the middle of town that had free games all day Sunday but you had to buy eight dollars worth of drinks. No problem..I would drink soda and my dad would get a pitcher of beer.

He taught me to play pool and we would spend the whole day talking cool father son stuff, I got to be pretty good at eight ball and the cocktail waitresses were not bad at all.

We spent a few nights each week riding to the billiards parlor on the back of his motorcycle and were regular fixtures just about every Sunday. We would play cut throat, nine ball and regular pool. If I had a little extra money there were some video games as well.

I look back fondly on those days. My dad and I relied on each other to retain our sanity in our fucked up household. We bonded pretty well. The pool hall is still there and once in a while he and I will go back and shoot a few games and talk about old times. He never went easy on me when I was a kid and he can still put back a couple of pitchers and kick my ass pretty good in a friendly game.

If it weren't for my dad and that diversion I don't think I would be where I am today.