My parent(s) wanted me to quit school on my 16th birthday to go to work to bring in money to help with the household expenses. My father was a mean alcoholic who beat my mother when he was drunk. He couldn’t hold a job and my mother didn’t dare to stand up to him. One October night after a 4 day binge he finally passed out. My mother was taken to the hospital for two weeks and I, being the oldest of six kids, got everybody dressed and out to various friends to stay for a few days. Then I waited for my boyfriend to drive by and had him bring me to the police station where I filled out some sort of paperwork to have my father arrested and subsequently sent to jail for assault. There were no safe houses in 1966 and “domestic violence” was an unheard of phrase, much less “battered woman”. I never looked back.