Is Fergie reliving her childhood?

Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York, has devoted so much of her life since her divorce from Prince Andrew to ‘childish’ pursuits – partying with her daughters as if she were their age, as well as carving a career for herself writing children’s books – that Rhoda wonders whether Fergie is reliving her childhood, obliquely telling us something about it or, more likely, in view of her own experience, is she compensating for one she didn’t have?

“In becoming a cordon bleu chef and running a niche catering business I often feel that I am compensating for the childhood I didn’t have in terms of good nutrition and healthy living,” confides Rhoda, “so it wouldn’t surprise me if Fergie’s current preoccupations with childish or childlike pursuits is some sort of compensation for being forced to grow up too fast, missing out on a lot of kid’s stuff.”

“Fergie’s parents divorced when she was 13 and she more or less lived an adult life from then onwards,” explains Rhoda. “My parents divorced when I was 9 and they more or less kept me as a child until I left home – so I got to do lots of kid’s stuff but my mom was a lousy cook and when I was with dad he would feed me even lousier frozen food!”

“Fergie started writing the Budgie series of children’s books in 1989, and as far as I know she didn’t get involved in any children’s charities until 1993 – a year after the toe-sucking incident – when she founded Children in Crisis,” says Rhoda. “After her divorce in 1996 she concentrated on her personal life, losing weight, and it wasn’t until 2004 that she became heavily involved in helping children, starting with becoming the official spokesperson of SOS Children's Villages USA.”

“Fergie has been ridiculed for spending much of her time hanging out with her daughters at nightclubs, dancing till dawn and generally acting like mutton dressed up as lamb,” says Rhoda, “but I think this is more a case of ‘making up’ to her daughters for all the time she didn’t spend with them as little girls, preferring instead the company of men.”

“When Fergie announced at the recent Los Angeles presentation of an award for her services to the children’s charity, Variety, that she prefers children to adults she was stating the obvious,” laughs Rhoda. “A cynic may say that she earns her crust writing children’s books and with a new series to promote she was merely buttering her bread with that remark, but I think she genuinely prefers to be with children because she is ‘there’ herself and will never be judged unfairly by her young readers or those children she helps through her charity work.”

See also:

Will Fergie and Andy Remarry?

Marriage or Emigration for Fergie?

Mother of the Year?

Fergie’s chutzpah survival

what's next for Fergie?

How free is Fergie?

Oprah tops Fergie’s retirement pot

Fergie Flouts Family

Fergie and the global gravy train

Greedy Fergie!

Fergie smokes, so what?

Homeless Fergie?

Fergie’s £15,000 pa was a lousy settlement

Fergie’s menopausal mania

star struck Fergie

cashing in on the family Fergie style!

Fergie’s broken homes

Is Fergie reliving her childhood?

a foghorn for silent whispers

Sarah Ferguson’s Libran Balance

Age Secrets of Prince Andrew

Age Secrets of Sarah Ferguson

Andrew and Sarah, Duke and Duchess of York

treated like a dog

From birth until she started kindergarten at the age of four Vicki was severely restrained by parents who probably wanted to protect their child from injury but ended up killing the little girl's spirit.

"I hadn't thought about my childhood much until I read a recent story about a baby who was left at home all day alone - strapped into a high chair - while her parents were at work," says Vicki.

"I cried with pity for that poor child because it was my fate to suffer a similar experience."

"My parents didn't go out to work and leave me at home alone all day," explains Vicki, "but they worked from home and essentially tied me up all day long so that I wouldn't bother them."

"I suppose they didn't have time to watch me and tied me up so that I wouldn't run out into the street or hurt myself," says Vicki, "but we had a back yard and they could have fenced it off and allowed me to run around freely - couldn't they?"

"It was much more than fear of my getting hurt," says Vicki, "because I was in a harness with a lead attached all of the time."

"When they took me out they let me trot along beside them like a dog on a lead rather than holding my hand like other parents did."

"I can clearly remember being tied to a tree in the back yard watching my parents making blinds for a decorating company."

"They weren't poor and could have afforded to buy a playpen for me - so that I could jump and play like a normal baby - but they didn't."

"Instead, they just tied me up to a tree or a table leg - depending upon where they were working - and I couldn't move and I had nothing to do but look at them."

"It's amazing that I learned how to crawl and walk with this sort of childhood treatment," says Vicki, "but it wasn't so much my physical development that was affected as my mental and spiritual development."

"Starting school was a glorious experience for me," says Vicki. "I loved it. I loved the freedom of being out of that harness and being able to run around and be normal like the other kids."

"But I wasn't normal," sighs Vicki. "I was different from the other kids and they knew it."

"I gained freedom when I started school, but I never gained acceptance from normal people."

"I'm 36 now and nothing much has changed in my life," says Vicki. "I go to work, come home to my little apartment and sit watching television just like I sat watching my parents working."

"After my parents divorced my father told me - probably in spite - that my mother had tried to abort me when she discovered she was pregnant with me," confides Vicki.

"I didn't need him to tell me that I wasn't a wanted child," explains Vicki. "I'd figured out long ago that anyone who restrains a child for four years has no love for it."

:"Learning how to love myself just doesn't work," sighs Vicki. "Those four years I spent being tied up - and the nine months I spent being in the womb of a mother who didn't want me - killed my spirit."

"I've never been like a normal person with normal desires and normal relationships," sighs Vicki.

"By the time I was given my freedom at the age of four it was too late."

"Physically I am fine - I can run like the wind and I often walk for miles just for the hell of it," explains Vicki, "but my spirit seems dead in comparison with everyone else."

"When I've saved enough money for a house of my own I'd like to get a dog as a companion," says Vicki. "I think I'd have more in common with a dog than a human being."

left handed devils

Like her father and her maternal grandmother - and her son - Gwen was born left handed and it was never a problem until she started elementary school and had the misfortune to fall into the clutches of a religious maniac of a teacher who believed that all left-handers are children of the devil.

"I must have been about five," says Gwen, "and I still remember that awful woman and what she did to me."

"I was the only left-handed child in the class and that old witch singled me out for torture."

"The first thing she did was to force me to write with my right hand."

"She did this - can you imagine it! - by tying my left hand behind my back."

"I couldn't write properly with my right hand - it came out like mirror writing - and despite crying my eyes out she had no mercy on me."

"For punishment - failing to write legibly with my right hand - she would force me to stand in front of the class with my nose pressed up against the chalk board."

"She told the class that I was a child of the devil and I would never go to heaven until I learned how to write properly - with my right hand."

"After a few days of this I didn't want to go back to school," says Gwen, "and my mother had to take me kicking and screaming to school every day - telling me that I should do what the teacher says - that writing with the right hand can't be so difficult."

"My mother is a very religious woman and chose the school for its religious training," explains Gwen, "so I couldn't complain."

"It wasn't until much later on in life that I realized the origins of the 'sinister' aspects of left-handedness," says Gwen, "and I suppose my mother was perfectly aware of this at the time - despite being married to a left-handed man."

"Apparently, left-handedness is a brain wiring phenomenon and it's passed from the father to the daughter and the mother to the son," says Gwen, "but my mother didn't know about the genetics - and probably still doesn't - preferring to cling to her religious beliefs about left-handedness."

"Because it's a brain wiring phenomenon, explains Gwen, "left-handedness cannot be changed easily and can cause severe trauma if tampered with."

"Well, I don't know if my nervousness and inability to speak in public was caused directly by being forced to write with my right hand - or indirectly by being scared out of my wits by that awful teacher - but a trauma did occur when I first started school and remains with me today."

"I remain predominately left handed in everything except writing," explains Gwen.

"And interestingly I now write mirror writing when I try to write with my left hand - which shows that some brain wires did get crossed when I was forced to write with my right hand."

"I know that fear of public speaking is pretty common," says Gwen, "but my fear extends to speaking up in classes, at meetings and even on the telephone. If I can't speak face to face with someone, I get very nervous and feel like fainting."

"This childhood trauma has not affected my personal life at all," say Gwen, "but it sure has had a terrible effect on my working life."

"Despite doing very well in college I've been passed over for promotions and treated like an idiot because of my fear of public speaking."

"I'm home on extended maternity leave now and I'm enjoying being a mother so much that I may decide not to return to work," laughs Gwen.

"And yes, I had a son and I was filled with both fear and joy when his little left hand shot out to greet me on the day he was born."

"Fear, because I wonder if some idiot teacher or mentor will ever try to change his natural handedness - and joy, because being left-handed is a pretty special trait."

the baggage of abuse

Candy, 25, is a survivor of child abuse and feels strongly inside that it is harmful to be forced to talk about abusive experiences once you have healed. She explains that being a survivor of abuse is shameful - it's not something you want the world to know about and if someone does find out about it you feel ashamed when they want to talk to you or other people about it.

"Sure, it's a personal badge of honor to have survived abuse," explains Candy, "but it is not a badge you wear in public. Also, feeling shameful is not the same in my mind as feeling ashamed because the former involves an element of disgust about someone abusing your body or mind, and the latter involves guilt for having done something you know was wrong."

"The abusers and predators of this world deliberately sniff out survivors of abuse and delight in exposing whatever hell they went through," sighs Candy. "They know - and you know - that you are a gentle, sensitive soul who is vulnerable to abuse. If you were not born like this - genetically predisposed to abuse - you would never have been abused in the first place."

"Nobody entirely forgets these things - you just learn to live with them - so you remain vulnerable, and especially so when you are going through some other life stress," says Candy. "When someone decides to rake up the past and accuse you of being 'in error' or 'unhealed' when you are dealing with normal stressful life situations, they are messing with your mind and don't know what hell they are unleashing."

"Similarly, to accuse formerly abused people of being 'in error' or 'unhealed' because they don't like being reminded of the abuse they once suffered - or have no desire whatsoever to return to any sort of relationship with their abusers - is grossly insensitive," says Candy. "And for someone to gloss over the abuse, discount it, deny it or infer in any way that it never happened, is just another form of abuse."

"It is very sad that those who wish to deny that the holocaust happened have forced the Jews to become fighters - continually reminding the world of the atrocities against them under the Nazi regime in Germany," sighs Candy. "It would be better for them, more healing for them, if they could be left alone to forget and get on with their lives."

"I can appreciate that there exist many abuse survivor support groups - some of which take to the streets on marches against domestic violence or violence against women generally," says Candy, "but, that sort of thing is also the result of ongoing abuse and a male dominated society's denial of the magnitude of the problem."

"Faced with denial from those around you - and ongoing abuse - you're forced into becoming a fighter," says Candy, 'but underlying the fighting spirit is a deep sense of shame."

"Because of this shame, many abused people don't tell anybody about it," explains Candy. "They heal themselves and hope that nobody ever discovers the shame of their past."

"When you're forced into a situation where someone wants to remind you of something that happened many years ago - something you've virtually forgotten," says Candy, "you re-experience the shame, and then you feel angry and abused all over again."

"Some people try to escape the shame of abuse by making huge changes in their lives - sometimes moving to the farthest reaches of the world," adds Candy, "but there's always something or someone there to remind you. And, if you try to make a new life before you've completely healed, you risk carrying that baggage with you."

dirty old men

When the Josef Fritzl story hit the headlines Bernadette shuddered with disgust at what that monster had done to his daughter, Elisabeth, and she thanked her lucky stars that her own encounter with a dirty old man was with a cousin, not her father, and that it only involved one instance of inappropriate sexual contact rather than 24 years of incarceration in a cellar being raped repeatedly.

"It only happened once when I was about six years old," says Bernadette, "and I remember the incident well because I was staying with my uncle and aunt while mom was in hospital having my baby brother."

"My cousin Michael was 19 - thirteen years older than me - so he wasn't a kid like me."

"My aunt made up a bed for me in the living room and Michael and I watched television until late."

"He explained all the shows to me and made me laugh," says Bernadette, "and I didn't mind him kissing me goodnight - I thought that was a nice thing for him to do as I was missing mom badly."

"I stayed there for a week and while my uncle and aunt were at work during the day Michael looked after me."

"He didn't have a regular job - he was a footballer - and he took me to his football practice some days, then we’d walk along the beach, but most times we’d just stay home watching television."

"One day he called me into his bedroom and asked whether I'd like to play doctors and nurses," says Bernadette.

"It wasn't exactly doctors and nurses because we didn't have a third person to be the patient so he let me be the doctor and I had fun bandaging his foot."

"Then he took a turn at being the doctor and said that I had a tummy ache he needed to look at," relates Bernadette, “and that’s when the inappropriate sexual contact happened.”

Read more by Bernadette on this subject:

predatory cousins

dirty family secrets

For the Fritzl stories read:

locked up living fritzl dolls

Elisabeth Fritzl’s Amazing Survival

Rosemarie Fritzl Wasn’t a Fat Housefrau

Austria’s Aryan Heritage

Elisabeth Fritzl Locked Up For Smoking

Secrets of Elisabeth Fritzl’s Age

Secrets of Josef Fritzl's Age

Elisabeth Fritzl’s Neighbors

our 1960s or their mid-life crisis?

Marina always thought that the swinging sixties was her generation expressing itself, leaving childhood behind and hanging out as cool teenagers, but now that she is older and wiser and has time to think about it, she has come to the conclusion that the whole thing – from drugs to free love and rock and roll – was orchestrated by the Golden Generation going through their mid-life crisis.

“The guys behind the scenes, financing the bands and providing the drugs were all in their early 40s – the dangerous age – and they all preyed on young girls like me. After all, they fought for freedom in WWII, they’re war heroes; they deserved it, right?”

“I came to this conclusion after realizing that my whole life has been overshadowed by my parents’ generation,” explains Marina. “You know, the so-called Golden Generation, the depression kids and the war heroes born during the 1920s, and before, who came of age during WWII.”

“These guys were in their teens when the times were dangerous but terribly exciting,” says Marina, “and the world was their oyster then and, because of their continuing power and influence, it still is.”

“After the war they settled down for a while to raise families – giving birth to my generation of Baby Boomers,” says Marina, “and then, when they hit their 40s, they had the mother of all mid-life crises which ushered in the Swinging 60s, bringing back all the excitement of the war years that they missed so much.”


Read more by Marina on this issue:

golden generation v boomers

life extension on welfare

the gods of war

war hero frauds

dispelling myths

who invented nursing homes?

generational shadows

goodbye WWII

being young in an old workplace

revered wise elders or frauds?

the spoils of war vs survival

we’re ruled by dangerous old men?

gawking tourist shame

Although her negative childhood media experience was not as shocking and traumatic as that now being experienced by Elisabeth Fritzl’s children, Peyton’s whole life has been shaped and hardened by it and she cannot see how Elisabeth’s children can ever come to terms with the shame of their birth and cellar existence – especially if they remain in Amstetten to be gawked at forever.

"My parents were dirt poor losers – the family of seven lived in an old school bus in the backwoods – and I felt extreme shame when the family’s circumstances were reported in the local newspaper and tourists arrived to do some gawking, to see how the other half lives."

"As a result of spending my childhood being bitterly shamed and traumatized by this experience", says Peyton, "I became a materialistic snob and have no compassion whatsoever for people living in similar circumstances to the one in which I grew up."

"It wasn't so much the poverty that traumatized me," explains Peyton, "as the fact that our noses were rubbed in it by the rich people."

"I became shockingly aware of my family's extreme poverty at the age of four," says Peyton.

"A couple of newspaper reporters with cameras turned up where we lived and asked us a lot of questions and took a lot of photos."

"I was the second youngest kid in a family of seven," sighs Peyton, "and we all lived in an old school bus in the backwoods."

"We had no water, no cooking stove and no sewerage," says Peyton. "My parents weren't hippy types who believed in living as close to nature as possible - they were just dirt poor losers."

"I don't know whether my parents called the reporters or whether our family was just chosen at random, sighs Peyton, "but I do know it must have been one of those 'no news' days for our story and photos to appear on the front page of the local newspaper - with headlines 'look how the other half lives!'"

"My parents were actually proud of appearing on the front page of the paper and having tourists come and gawk at us," sighs Peyton, "but even though I was just four years old I felt really ashamed of being exposed like this."

"The photo that appeared on the front page showed us all at a window of the bus - and it's horrible and pathetic to see seven scruffy faces, mine included, grinning out at the world from that old school bus we called home."

"Nothing good came from that exposure," says Peyton. "My parents weren't given a proper house and we didn't receive any goodies either."

"All my parents received were several copies of the newspaper and a copy of each of the photographs that were taken that day."

"They pinned those photographs on the walls of the bus and I grew up feeling more and more hateful of my circumstances than ever."

"As far as I could see, my family had been publicly humiliated for the titillation of bored newspaper readers," says Peyton.

"Our miserable existence had been exposed for no other reason than to make the rich and the middle-class people feel good in comparison to us."

"When I started school I realized the extent of how much the people in town despised us for being poor."

"I hung around with the other poor kids and hung my head in shame like they did."
"I went through school with a burning desire to escape from all this," says Peyton. "And that chance came when my big brother made good in another state and invited me to come live with him and his wife."

"They bought me new clothes and cut my hair and when I started my new school nobody knew who I was and where I came from It was the new start I needed - and it allowed me to make good too."

"They say that poverty breeds strong entrepreneurial kids," laughs Peyton, "but it also breeds kids with huge chips on their shoulders."

"I won't be getting married and I won't be having kids," says Peyton, "because as far as I can see most families are just a fine line away from poverty - all it takes is a bit of bad luck - and poor people really do exist in our affluent society to make the rest of us feel good about ourselves."

"When I look at poor people I despise them just like rich people despised me when I was a snot-nosed kid living in a bus."

Check out these stories about the Fritzl family:

Elisabeth Fritzl’s Amazing Survival

Rosemarie Fritzl Wasn’t a Fat Housefrau

locked up living fritzl dolls

Austria’s Aryan Heritage

Elisabeth Fritzl Locked Up For Smoking

Secrets of Elisabeth Fritzl’s Age

Secrets of Josef Fritzl's Age

Elisabeth Fritzl’s Neighbors

the cliff richard generation

When the horrific Josef Fritzl story hit the headlines around the world, Patrice was immediately taken back to her childhood - a time when Cliff Richard was crooning about living dolls being locked up in a trunk, a time when men were masterful, women were submissive, nobody believed little children when they told about daddy's dirty little sex game (or the priest’s), western male men thought they were superior and civilized and the bearded man in the sky looked down upon us all and was pleased.

“The Cliff Richard generation was the one before the baby boomers – loosely covering those born 1935 to 1945,” explains Patrice, “and being born right in the middle of this generation I remember it with mixed feelings.”

“Everyone’s childhood in this generation was overshadowed by a terrible war,” says Patrice, “and everyone’s teenage years were blighted by the brutal patriarchal values of an older generation that hushed up wife bashing, child sexual abuse and abominable attitudes towards women.”

“The boy band baby boomers swept aside all of those values – along with crooners like Cliff,” says Patrice, “but feminism and the sexual revolution came too late for women like me – and Rosemarie Fritzl – who married straight from school, never knew the independence of working and whose sole purpose in life by then was to have babies and do what their breadwinning husbands told them to do.”

“I am independent now, and so glad that younger women have opportunities and freedoms that I missed out on,” says Patrice, “but my whole life has been blighted by a childhood that was ruled by the brutal values of the generation before mine.”

“I have a special dislike of men my own age and older because they still act as though they ‘own’ women and can do what they like with them,” says Patrice, “and what happened in the Fritzl family is more common than most people believe.”

“The Cliff Richard generation is totally out of step with modern values and is fraught with psychoses.”

Read more by Patrice on this issue:

locked up living fritzl dolls

hunks, trunks and living dolls

Josef Fritzl and Sex Addiction

the bearded man in the sky

empty nest divorce time

Rosemarie Fritzl a Protective Crab?

what’s civilized about western men?

fritzl wives

rosemarie fritzl's bad decision

Was Rosemarie Fritzl Blameless?

dependence enables evil

are sex addicts evolutionary dinosaurs?

incest horror

stepfathering girls is dangerous

After a picture that Nicole drew of her stepfather for ‘show and tell’ at school aroused unjust suspicion of pedophilia, her mother became very wary about sharing any private information with her just in case she'd blurt it out at ‘show and tell’ and get the family into trouble again.

"I don't think mom told my stepfather about the offending drawing," says Nicole, "and just as well, too, because he would have been absolutely mortified that anyone could have suspected him of abusing me - and it would have definitely affected his relationship with me."

"For instance," explains Nicole, "he would have been scared to give me a hug and just imagine how that would have stunted my emotional growth."

"However, the most likely outcome of my stepfather finding out that he was suspected of child abuse would have been my removal from the school - and that would have changed the course of my life dramatically."

"But removing me from the school would not have removed the suspicion - and may have made it worse," sighs Nicole.

"It's a bit scary that a record of that suspicion exists today and that it's still in my teacher's memory banks, too."

Read more of Nicole's story:

nicole: the sinister side of show and tell

nosy teachers

stuffed toy friends

Ricki's 'friend' Ben wasn't a real live animal - it was just a stuffed toy - but like the Ben in Michael Jackson's song "Ben" it was the only friend she had for many years and because of this the song holds special memories for her.

"People think it's amazing that I can remember my friend Ben after all these years," says Ricki, "but if it's true that the first thing you see when you're born is indelibly imprinted on your memory banks then it's not so amazing after all."

"I was the first baby born before Christmas at the local hospital and for this feat I was presented by the medical staff with a big stuffed panda as a present."

"Ben and I were inseparable for six years," says Ricki, "and I don't remember what happened to him - I think my mother disposed of him after he fell to pieces in the washing machine."

"By that age I had moved on and had made real life friends and wasn't as attached to Ben as I was in infancy," explains Ricki, "so I didn't fall to pieces with grief when Ben disappeared one day."

"It was the first lesson in separation I learned in life, and it wasn't painful - it was natural."

"Definitely, had I lost Ben earlier in my life I would have been devastated and this devastation would have manifested itself later in my life whenever I had to move on and say goodbye to someone."

"In that respect I was very lucky with Ben."

"Like a true friend, he stayed with me until I was ready for the separation," explains Ricki, "and because I had real life friends by then, I didn't miss him too much when he disappeared."

"Until then, Ben was truly my best friend," says Ricki. "He went everywhere with me - even into the bath with me!"

"I talked to him like he was a real person - he shared all my childhood fears and secrets - and when I was angry with my parents I'd get angry with Ben."

"Poor old Ben," sighs Ricki. "He never complained."

"For only children like me," explains Ricki, "an animal, or even a stuffed toy, is vital for a child's development."

"In many respects I think a stuffed animal makes an ideal friend for a baby," laughs Ricki. "I couldn't imagine a real life animal being allowed to sleep, bathe and eat with me!"

"It's interesting that Ben was a panda - rather than a run of the mill teddy bear," muses Ricki. "Maybe I have him to thank for my exotic tastes in life - who knows?"
"What I do know, though," adds Ricki, "is that I never took to dolls like other little girls did. Why should I?"

"I had a friend in Ben, didn't I?"

"My husband and I don't plan on having any children so maybe having Ben in my life - rather than dolls - influenced my life more than my parents could ever imagine."

Ricki's story first appeared as my friend ben

meeting mom's irish family

Tennille's mom had married an American serviceman on leave in Ireland, and after fifteen years away from the land of her birth she wanted to return for a visit - taking the family with her.

"I was 7 when my family took the trip to Ireland," says Tennille, "and my brothers were 10 and 13 and my little sister was just 2. I remember it well because thanks to that trip I've refused to travel outside my home country ever since!"

"My dad hired an old car in Belfast and we took a long, leisurely trip down south where my mom's relatives lived."

"Even though I was pretty young at the time I can remember how dad had trouble driving on the left side of the road," laughs Tennille, "and how amazed I was at how green and neat the countryside was."

"The further south we got the narrower the roads became," relates Tennille. "Some of them weren't even sealed properly - and we'd often have to stop for herds of cattle to cross between fields. It was bizarre!"

"None of us had ever met any of my mom's relatives so it was going to be a reunion for her but a big shock for the rest of us."

"It wasn't the first time we had been away on a road trip as a family," says Tennille, "but it was the first time we had traveled together to a foreign country - and Ireland was as foreign as it gets for us!"

"Visiting the south of Ireland where my mother came from was like going back in history - hundreds and hundreds of years," laughs Tennille. "And that's how my mom's family like it. They don't believe in change and new-fangled things like telephones and televisions or even running water. They were sort of Amish in their thinking but without the old-fashioned clothes."

"My grandparents lived on a little farm with my mom's eldest brother and his wife and their children - my cousins."

"They had no modern conveniences - none at all - and they didn't even have a bathroom with a water closet, and as far as I know they still don't."

"They had a hut built over a stream with a plank with various sized holes - and we had to find a hole that fitted our butts and do our business in the stream below," laughs Tennille. "I was terrified I'd fall through the hole."

"Because that was the stream they also drew their drinking water from - upstream of course - dad wondered about the families upstream polluting the water."

"He made sure that we drank only boiled water," says Tennille, "but my cousins didn't and he couldn't understand why they were so healthy. But then, my mom survived that sort of lifestyle, too. I guess the Irish are sturdy stock."

"The sleeping arrangements were even more bizarre," laughs Tennille. "There were only two bedrooms and my grandparents slept in the same room as three of my cousins - who shared a bed - and the other two cousins, the younger ones, shared a bed sleeping in the same room as their parents."

"There were no single beds - it was two or three in a bed," says Tennille, "and mom said it was even worse when she was a kid. There were 14 children in her family and most slept on the floor."

"We had hired a car with a sort of trailer attachment so we slept in luxury compared to my cousins," says Tennille, "but we still had to use their 'toilet' and it got so bad that I just couldn't go at all."

"On the farm they had mainly cows and pigs," says Tennille, "and I enjoyed helping my cousins with their chores - except milking cows. That was gross."

"The most fun we had was playing with the pigs," laughs Tennille. "We tried to ride them like a horse and they'd really go fast."

"The countryside in southern Ireland is so different from home. We were told not to roam off on our own because there were bogs that would swallow us up."

"A bog is wet land that's like a marsh - and somehow they use the earth from the bogs as fuel - and call it peat."

"I loved the way my cousins talked and they thought my accent was cool, too."

"My mom was crying her eyes out when we left her parent's farm - she thought she would never see them again," says Tennille, "and even though I was sad to leave, in a way, I would have literally died of constipation had we stayed there any longer."

"When we got home my mom was too busy with my baby sister to notice that my stomach was bulging and I was in real pain," says Tennille, "and being the middle child I'd sort of gotten used to not making a fuss about anything. Anyway, when I finally told her that I hadn't evacuated my bowels for about two weeks she didn't believe it was possible - but it was!"

"I can still remember the purging she put me through," grimaces Tennille. "I'm not sure whether it was the 'holding on' or the purging that totally stuffed up my bowels, all I know is that I've never been the same since that trip."

"I'm 37 now and still suffer from constipation," confesses Tennille, "so those Irish bog toilets - and the subsequent purging my mother gave me - made a lasting impression on me."

"Come to think of it," muses Tennille, "just about everything we suffer from as adults - physical or mental - has roots in our childhood. I'm sure someone wants to tell me that if I really worked on the problem I could cure myself of fear of travel and strange toilets - but I couldn't be bothered. Compared to everything else, constipation is not a monumental problem. Some things you've just got to be philosophical about. Right?"

"I still keep in touch with my cousins but I'd rather pay them to come visit me than go back to Ireland," laughs Tennille. "In fact, I like my modern conveniences so much that I refuse to travel too far away at all - just in case I can't find a decent toilet - and that really bugs my husband and kids."

"Also, I know that Sagittarians are supposed to love travel and extreme sports and that sort of thing," laughs Tennille, "but here's one Sag who prefers to do her traveling via the comfort of a sofa with her finger on the remote."

(Tennille's story first appeared as an irish bog and is reprinted with permission.)

the button basket

Roshana is 32, single and still lives at home with her parents. She works as a records manager and has a flair for organization that few people possess - a flair that materialized very early in her life.

"I've been a stickler for order for as long as I can remember," laughs Roshana, "but my vocation in this respect really became noticeable to my parents when I preferred to play with buttons rather than dolls."

Buttons?

"Yes," laughs Roshana. "My mother was a tailor and she had stacks of beautiful buttons that she kept in a huge basket."

"She would always get in a tizzy when she couldn't find the exact color of a button she wanted," explains Roshana, "so she was very happy when I sat down one day and started to sort out the basket of buttons."

"She wanted me to thread the matching buttons together but I didn't want to do that - I wanted to keep the buttons loose so that I could play with them."

"My father had an old tool box with lots of compartments and I begged him to let me have it for the buttons."

"I sorted the buttons according to attributes that I considered to be important," explains Roshana, "and then I'd put them into the compartments in the tool box that I had designated for them."

"For years until school homework took over my life I'd play with those buttons," laughs Roshana.

"My parents expected me to become an accountant but looking at dollar signs and boring columns of figures didn't appeal to me."

"I needed a career with a bit of color in which my organizational skills could be fully utilized," explains Roshana. "I wanted a job where I could play with whatever it was that I worked with."

"I suppose working with records sounds awfully boring to everyone else," says Roshana, "but take a look at my filing room and you'll know what I mean when I say I've gone from buttons to records - there are shelves and shelves of folders designed by brightly colored button stickers!"

torn between two faiths

Honey grew up in what was once called a 'mixed marriage' - her parents were of different faith rather than different race - and although raised in one faith she ended up, like a mixed race child, having a foot in both camps but not quite accepted by either.

"My mother is Catholic and my father is Jewish and I grew up in the Catholic faith," explains Honey, "but when I reached my teens I went through a personal crisis in faith that left me terribly mixed up."

"I was always tormented as a kid because my father was Jewish." says Honey. "The Catholics said that the Jews are agents of Satan, they murdered Jesus and all that stuff, and even though my parents told me to take no notice of these torments I was hurt by their verbal attacks on my lovely, gentle father."

"For all the drilling I received in a Catholic school my teachers left me in total ignorance as far as religious history was concerned," says Honey. "It was only when I did some reading of my own that I realized the truth of a lot of things, such as Jesus himself was a Jew, the early form of Christianity was a Jewish sect and the Catholic faith was based on the expansionist plans of the Roman Empire and had very little to do with Jesus!"

"I could have gone through my whole life -- as I'm sure a lot of Catholics do -- without knowing the true history of my religion," says Honey, "and it was at that time that I felt incredibly drawn towards the quiet faith that my father practiced at his synagogue."

"I became torn between the two faiths and I didn't know which way to go."

"My father told me that it was easier for me to be a Catholic than a Jew," says Honey, "and I suppose he was right. But because I was so disillusioned by what my church had failed to tell me, I ended up solving my crisis of faith by turning away from religion altogether."

"When I was about thirteen I refused to believe that Jesus even existed -- that it was all lies," laughs Honey, "but I've mellowed since and now accept that Jesus was a real person. But I don't believe all the rubbish about virgins births, resurrections and miracles. I believe that Jesus was an opportunist who took advantage of Talmudic prophecy to get himself accepted as the King of the Jews and when that failed his followers formed their own breakaway Jewish sect."

"Similarly, it was over his claim to take as many wives as he wanted that Henry VIII broke with the Catholic church and established the Church of England," laughs Honey, "but it wasn't a new religion any more than the one the followers of Jesus started."

"Until the Roman Emperor Constantine embraced Christianity in 313, it was acknowledged by most as a Jewish sect. In fact, the early Christians were all Jews and operated in accordance with Talmudic teaching."

"Ultimately, the need to gain more support and money led to unclean, uncircumcised Gentiles being included as followers of Jesus," says Honey, "but the whole issue of including these 'dirty' people remained a thorn in the side of the new sect for many generations. Even today, Catholics practice circumcision without knowing why, other than it promotes cleanliness - but it is the sign of the Covenent with God in the Jewish religion!"

"After persecuting the early Christians for three hundred years, it's ironic that the new state religion of Roman Christianity adopted by the Emperor Constantine ultimately persecuted every other faith it came across, including Judaism from which it sprang."

"What's happening in Ireland between the Catholics and the Protestants is a farce," laughs Honey, "and what's happening in the Middle East is a tragedy."

"The traditional Jewish faith has thrived over the centuries despite terrible persecution simply because it's believers were dispersed and generally minded their own business," explains Honey. "When Israel was created in 1948 as a home for the Jews the stage was set for more religious wars."

"Mix religion with power, war and territorial expansion," sighs Honey, "and, like the Roman Christians, the persecuted fast become the persecutors. My father fears that Israel is going to become more expansionist than it is already - claiming huge tracts of land, including Turkey and Cyprus, as ordained in ancient Judaic law - and the Jews will become more hated than they are already."

"I went through terrible spiritual agony over all of the differences and similarities and lies and more lies about religion," says Honey, "and I'm glad, now, that I owe no allegiance to either. I'm free!"

"It's like all things in life," says Honey, "when you can't choose between two things -- boys, movies, food, religion or whatever -- the best action is to leave them both or try something else."

"As far as religion is concerned there is a veritable smorgasbord to choose from," laughs Honey, "but I'm opting for freedom. I've read enough now to be satisfied that there is no god, no heaven and no hell and while my mother is horrified my father is amused."

"He says it is good that I am learning to think for myself, and although I am obviously biased because he is my father I think he's the nicest dad in the world."

the alphabet song

Sesame Street's "Alphabet Song" brings back many happy memories for Linley, 18, not just because A she's adorable, B she's so beautiful and C she's a cutie full of charm - but also because the alphabet itself provided a innovative way of learning in her family.

"My parents restricted television viewing at home," explains Linley, "so we made our own fun rather than becoming couch potatoes."

"I had two older sisters and we amused ourselves - and I learned heaps - by playing alphabet games."

"We used up stacks of paper for the game, " laughs Linley, "but my parents didn't mind."

"On each sheet of paper we would write the alphabet vertically down the left hand side," explains Linley, "and then we would take turns to nominate a subject for each page."

"The aim of the game was simple. If the subject, say, was 'cars', we had to write a name of a car for each letter of the alphabet - and it was always difficult finding a word for the letter Q but it sure encouraged us to do a lot of research into each subject."

"Each game was timed and at first my sisters always finished before me," laughs Linley, "but as I got older and learned to write faster I got to be as quick as they were."

"It was a great game for winter and rainy days," explains Linley. "And we covered every subject imaginable."

"I hadn't yet started school and already I knew not only how to write but also a whole heap of knowledge that a lot of kids in high school wouldn't even know!"

"I remember very clearly that I knew the capital cities of every state and country - and all the animals and insects and flowers."

"With that sort of childhood I suppose it was natural I'd want to study to become a teacher," says Linley, "and when I get married and have kids that I want to introduce the game to them, too."

"The alphabet song is so simple and fun and educational too. It's also fun to sing with different lyrics,"laughs Linley. "When I'm angry with someone I like to sing something like - A you're abominable, B you're so babyish, C you're a cabbage full of crap!"

"I don't know whether Sesame Street would approve of me changing the lyrics," laughs Linley, "but A I'm assertive, B I'm so brash and C I'm a critic full of class."

what's in a name?

Paola believes that her start to life was cursed when her father insisted that she be called after his first wife who had died shortly after their wedding.

"I can understand how bad my mother felt about this," says Paola, "but resenting me for the name my father had called me was a cruel thing to do to a little baby."

"My mother refused to call me 'Paola' and called me La-La instead," sighs Paola, "but that only cursed me twice because can you imagine what it is like for me to go through life being called La-La?"

"It wasn't so bad before the Teletubbies came along - with one of them called La-La," explains Paola, "but now it's embarrassing."

"My father doted on me and always called me 'Paola' but my mother only used that name when she was angry with me - and she had a horrible way of making the name sound ugly and dirty and humiliating."

"I don't understand the dynamics between my mother and father," sighs Paola, "but I don't believe fathers should have the sole right to name children - especially when we receive our father's surname as a matter of course."

"My mother's choice of name for me would have been Laura," says Paola, "and I like that name - and I wish she had been allowed to call me what she wanted to."

"I have very little knowledge of the woman whose name I carry other than the fact that she died after my dad married her," explains Paola. "I don't think I'd like it if the man I married still carried a torch for his first wife - but marriage is the last thing on my mind right now."

"Half of my world knows me as Paola and the other half know me as La-La and now that I'm ready to leave home I'm beginning to feel that I should mark my independence with a complete name change - to something I want to call myself - in order to break this curse."

"The trouble is though," sighs Paola, "I fear that as long as my dad and mom live he will always call me Paola and she will always call me La-La."

my crazy blonde sister

Renee first realized her big sister was mentally ill when a neighbor came to her school one day and demanded she come home and help her mother because Odette had supposedly committed suicide.

"I was fourteen and I remember being more embarrassed by that neighbor turning up at my school than anything else," confesses Renee.

"For one thing, Odette had only attempted to commit suicide and for another my mother didn't need me at all," says Renee. "That neighbor was a bigger drama queen than my sister and mother and I nearly died with embarrassment that the whole school now knew about my weird family."

"Sure, I knew that my mother and big sister were different from dad and I," says Renee, "but they were blue eyed blondes and dad and I were brown eyed brunettes and I always thought that this difference explained their drama queen behavior."

"Anyone with blue eyes and blonde hair - to me - was liable to act crazily and I just grew up believing that that sort of behavior was normal for them and cool calm collected behavior was normal for brown eyed brunettes."

"The neighbor who came to my school had red hair," laughs Renee, "and that was even worse than blonde hair. She was stark raving mad as far as I was concerned."

"On my way back home with that red-haired neighbor she told me that Odette had been rushed to hospital and that my mom was there with her."

"I didn't understand then why she needed to involve me and when I got home I understood her behavior even less."

"She just left me alone at my house and I had nothing to do but wait until my mother came back from the hospital."

"It was a four hour wait and during that time I imagined what life would be like if Odette died," says Renee.

"I didn't feel sad at all," confesses Renee. "In fact I also imagined what life would be like if my mom died, too, and that didn't make me sad either."

"I missed my dad - who was a long distance truck driver - and I had no idea whether he had been informed of Odette's demise."

"When mom came home she was crying uncontrollably and said that she's spoken to dad and he couldn't come home - or refused to come home - and she raved on about how hopeless he was and how she was going to divorce him and how beautiful Odette was and how ugly I was."

"I'd heard all this stuff before and it went in one ear and out the other," laughs Renee.

"Odette came home from hospital a week later and I was shocked by the change in her appearance and behavior," says Renee.

"She was very pale and withdrawn and it took a long time for me to discover why she had attempted to take her life."

"Odette was 17, three years older than me, and apparently some guy had dumped her and she couldn't take it," says Renee.

"That was to be the pattern of Odette's life from then onwards," sighs Renee.

"Whenever Odette suffered a setback she would pretend to slash her wrists or take an overdose of pills and upset everybody's life."

"I left home at 16 because I couldn't bear being around Odette and my mother and the crazy red-headed neighbor,"
confesses Renee.

"Odette still lives at home - heavily sedated on medication - and I feel very sorry for my father but I guess his job keeps him sane - he is rarely home for more than a few days."

"Mom always telephones me in histrionics every time Odette goes crazy but I don't listen to her," confesses Renee. "I just tell her that I am busy and put the phone down."

"I refused to tell mom and Odette where I work - only dad knows my work number -because I know they would embarrass me by telephoning me at work," says Renee, "but they still remain determined to embarrass me in any way they can."

"I had to move from my last apartment when mom and Odette visited without warning one day and finding me out they knocked on all of my neighbor's doors to find out where I was - telling them that it was an emergency, dad was sick, and I had to come home."

"I didn't even know my neighbors very well and I was so embarrassed when one by one they stopped me on the steps or outside the building to tell me to call my mom," relates Renee, "but when I called home dad was fine as I knew he would be."

"Worse still," sighs Renee, "one day my mom actually telephoned the police and told them that she couldn't reach me at home - which was a lie, she knew my home number - and two policemen arrived at my apartment telling me that I was needed urgently at home because Odette had overdosed."

"With great embarrassment I told them the truth - and they promised not to bother me again if my mother or Odette tried that trick again."

"Today," sighs Renee, "I was listening to the radio and I heard a call from a woman wanting her long-lost sister to contact her urgently because her father was dying - and I froze because I recognized the nature of the call.".

"No," laughs Renee, "the call had nothing to do with me but I felt awfully sorry for that long-lost sister because she had obviously become long-lost for a very good reason and it would have embarrassed her awfully to know that her name was being broadcast over the radio by a crazy sister like Odette."

savannah: summer camp

Savannah has nothing but wonderful memories of elementary school and considering her home life at the time she is very lucky to have experienced a kind and understanding teacher.

"There were five children in my family when I started school and we were exceptionally poor," confides Savannah. "We never had enough to eat and we never had enough warm clothes to protect us in winter."

"I was the eldest and my whole life changed when I started school."

"My first teacher took me under her wing and bought me new clothes and shoes and made sure that my belly was full," says Savannah.

"That teacher even visited my home and got the whole community involved in helping my parents."

"She was an angel."

"But what I treasure most about that teacher - and my elementary school days - was the camp she took my class to one summer."

"She paid for all the children who couldn't afford to attend," says Savannah.

"Some of the children had been to the beach and seen the ocean before starting school," says Savannah, "but it was all new to me."

"I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw so much water!"

"Mom used to give us a bath in a tub every week - the same water for all of us - so I had the joy of experiencing not only a running shower for washing myself at night but also a whole sea of water to play with."

"That camp introduced me to a life I never knew existed for ordinary people," laughs Savannah.

"I was given food I had never seen or tasted before - and I slept in a bunk bed with clean crisp white sheets and a pillow so fluffy that my head sunk in it!"

"I didn't have any pajamas or a toothbrush like the other kids - and on the first day at the camp the teacher who supervised the showers made me feel embarrassed that I never cleaned my teeth or wore anything to bed besides my underwear."

"My fairy godmother teacher tucked me into bed that night and told me not to worry - she would fix things for me," says Savannah, "and she gave me a nice little kiss on my forehead - it was the first time in my life anyone had shown affection towards me - not even my mother had kissed me goodnight!"

'"The next day a pair of pink pajamas and a new toothbrush appeared on my bed."

"I was six years old when I went on this camp and although I have been away lots of times since then I still remember that camp as being the best holiday I have ever had."

"Not just because it was the first time I'd seen the ocean and played in the sand - or slept in a nice bed - or eaten great food - or cleaned my teeth with a toothbrush - but because my teacher made me feel special."

"Every one of the girls on that camp got tucked into bed and kissed goodnight by my teacher - but I think I was the only girl who experienced that sort of affection for the very first time."

"When I got home I shared everything I had learned with my little brothers and sisters," says Savannah.

"I became the affectionate mother that they - and I - never had."

"I'd read them stories from books my special teacher gave me and I'll tell how big the ocean is - and I'd tuck them up in bed with a goodnight kiss on their foreheads."

"What I never shared with them was my toothbrush," laughs Savannah. "I kept in under my pillow and was too afraid to use it less it wear out."

"I aimed to be an elementary teacher from then onwards," laughs Savannah, "but by the time I got to high school I aimed a lot higher."

"Being made to feel special gave me the confidence I needed to change my life - and that of those around me - and I have a extraordinary elementary teacher to thank for all that."

nicole: the sinister side of show and tell

Nicole truly cannot remember what inspired her to draw her stepfather in a very peculiar way for one of her 'show and tells' at elementary school but she is absolutely positive that she had never been abused by him.

"Mom was called to school by my teacher to discuss the picture I'd drawn," says Nicole, "and I didn't understand what the fuss was all about until much later."

"Mom kept the 'offending' drawing and when I look at it now I can understand how my teacher was concerned."

"It's a drawing I did of myself between my mom and stepfather," explains Nicole. "It's a typical kid's drawing - stick figures and big smiles - but my stepfather looks very strange because I drew him with three legs and I drew mom and myself with two."

"Mom thought the whole thing was ridiculous - if for no other reason than my stepfather's 'third leg' was nowhere near as long as I had drawn it," laughs Nicole, "and after lots of questioning about where I might have seen a naked man the issue was dropped."

"After that incident my mother was very wary about sharing any private information with me just in case I'd blurt it out at ‘show and tell’. If my mom could do that then so could parents with something really horrible to hide."

"From then onwards, every Monday morning - the show and tell day - mom would actually tell me what to show and tell."

"She'd say something like: 'tell your class that you visited your grandma and played with the dog' and she would even draw the dog for me so that I wouldn't draw it with five legs and get into trouble again."

"Mom wasn't perverting the course of justice or anything like that - she was just trying to protect me from an over-zealous teacher - and possibly nosy old gossip teachers, too."

Read more of Nicole's story:

stepfathering girls is dangerous

nosy teachers