Tyler Hunt Is Blamed

Bill Cornwell said this to me when alas I brought up the huge pee stain on the back seat of the rental car;

“Maybe you peed in that back seat, after all, you were sitting in it.”

When Heather came to pick me up at Vicki’s in that rental, for our drive back to Las Vegas, Bill opened the passenger door for me, saying he wanted me to be up front for a change, and be honored. Bill sat in the ruined back seat with Tyler. This was a coverup. Only after dropping my family off at the airport, and when I returned the car, did I notice the huge stain. I was utterly dismayed. Bill had conned me, and my daughter was in on it. Did my grandson know what was going on? Now it made sense what Tyler said on the drive to Vegas;

“Aunt Linda peed her pants and made a joke.”

Six year old Tyler Hunt knew about the stain. When I finally grilled Heather Hanson about how it got there, she was evasive. Cornered, she said;

“Tyler peed on that seat.”

When I told Vicki about it, her first response was that Linda did this deliberately, because she was competing with Vicki for the attention of Heather and my grandson. Linda had got three rooms at the Avi casino, and Vicki did not want to go, because, she works in a casino, and, does not want to be around people who drink. My sister wanted us to swim at the lake, be a family, and not players.

“I think I know what the joke was.” I said to my little sister. “This Buds for you, Vicki!”

Today is Mother’s Day. I debated about revealing the truth about these matters that has devastated my family. My mother is dead. I did not get to say goodbye to her because I severed our relationship three years prior. A month after Christine drowned, her husband asked me to go down and take care of her while he was in Ohio visiting his parents. I knew he couldn’t handle it. Before I left for LA I called a recovery house and told them I was going to try to do an intervention, and would they stand by. They agreed. I thought I could handle my mother, but I was wrong. She used my sister’s death to drink and release her most vile side. She could care less about my real grief – and her husbands. I had to flee Rosemary’s house at five in the morning never to see or talk to her again.

Vicki watched our mother die, like she watched her two best friends from her childhood die – of acute alcoholism. Pip was the mother of a teenage son who got to see his drunken mother up close. Vicki and Pip met in Junior High. Karen and Vicki knew each other since they were six years old. Karen never had a child, she too drunk and selfish to consider being a mother.

For a month before I flew to Bullhead city, Vicki and I talked about the horror show we had witnessed. We both came to believe “that a power greater then ourselves would restore us to sanity.” We talked about how utterly selfish our insane parents were. She told me how our father would take Vicki to Oscar’s Bar, sit her up at the bar with a Shirley Temple, while he was huddled in a dark corner with his cronies telling drunken war stories. Vic told Rosemary he wanted special bonding time with his youngest child. Vicki told me how bored she was and how the bartender tried to amuse her, engage her in conversation. Vic had used his daughter as a cover, they susposed to be at a park, or Fairly Land. No way did Vicki want to make a bond with Linda at a casino and bar!

When Heather posted photos of her son in a bar with a Shirley Temple being hugged by a drunk, I was back in the nightmare. For this mother to blame her own son for the a good drunk gone bad, is as low as you can go. There is no Judge in America that would not conclude Heather Hanson has a real drinking problem.

For a month after our trip, I still had hope that an adult would step forward, and take the rap. When Bill called me five months later and said I was about to lose my daughter and grandson because I was a parasite, less then human, I knew this was par for the course, for this is how my two drunken parents handled their denial. Drunken Vic would tell his friends I was Rosemary’s Baby who wanted to kill him so I could fuck my mother. This has got to be the greatest excue to drink – of all time!

“I drink like a sailor on leave because my son is the son of the devil!

Vicki was at this devil’s side when he died. Maybe the devil peed on that back seat?

In the front seat, feeling honored by Bill, I tried to make amends about the scene at the Grand Canyon, that occurred when I said “no” to Bill, I wanting Heather to drive home – in a leisurely fashion. No one says “no” to Bill, who is now telling me a story as to why he is not driving to Las Vegas, why he is in the back seat – not I.

“I got a warrant in Nevada for speeding. That’s why Heather is behind the wheel.”

Hmmmm! Why would this dude, who is never wrong, tell me he did something wrong? Surely any father would not want his daughter to marry a speeder, and have his grandson in the car with a reckless law breaker who is evading the long arm of the law – and Justice!

Tomorrow I will call the cops in Nevada to see if Bill is lying. What do you think? Should I save the cost for the call and give the money to charity?

Unfortunatly, Tyler would be a good sober witness. All that Child services has got to ask my grandson, is this;

“Your mother says you peed on the back seat of that car. Did you?”

If Linda did pee on that back seat, will she confess rather then see my grandson get in more trouble then he is in? I am sure the culprits are going to great length to convince Tyler Hunt his grandfather is dangerous and insane. Linda is not a mother, and never will be. To blame a man with twenty four years of sobriety, and his beautiful grandson, for the drunken destruction of other people’s property, is as vile a thing I have ever known. Take note of the empty pitcher in the photo above, and know there are no bathrooms between Oatman and Linda’s house.

Vicki and I talked about our nieces, Christine’s two daughters, how they are not mothers, and may never be due to being raised by an alcoholic mother. This is what we were going to address when I got to Bullhead City. Drew’s father was about to die, and is now dead. How could we help Drew feel safe, and sane enough to bring a child into the world. Shannon is in her forties, and it may be too late for her. My love and my blessing unto my nieces, whom I love dearly.

We invited Drew and Shannon to what may have been one of the few family clean and sober family gatherings. Christine’s funeral fell on her first sober birthday. It was in the spirit of a family born again, that we gathered. My family never met Linda, Flip, and Bill who gave us the message that we sober ones are the source of the family squabble, and if we only put an end to forty five years of combined sobriety, and take another drink, then things will be just hunky dory! Yeah – right! No thanks!

That these three strangers could not put aside their mugs of beer for five days, says it all! Case closed!

Happy Mother’s Day, Vicki

Jon Presco