But as it was, I did none of those things, except to continue to shed my silent "Daddy tears." I never uttered a peep of protest. That's why he didn't...stop, of course. He wasn't going to stop until he had gotten some sort of response from me.There is no sound on earth like that of a bullwhip striking flesh. Many have written about it, but they've obviously never seen it, and most certainly they've never experienced it. TV and movies don't even come close. Try to imagine hitting a piece of raw. He gave all of his attentions to Montgomery, his first-born. Luckily, Claude’s mother filled in for his father’s neglect, comforting him with words like:‘You don’t have to be like Monty. You can just be yourself.’Or, ‘he doesn’t say it, but your father does love you. He only wants the best for you.’His mother’s consolation usually followed a heated argument between father and second-born. Invariably Claude’s grades at school disappointed his father even more than his penchant for the arts and. " Eddie started."What?" I asked, without looking back. I was too busy looking at another picture. My mother and Eddie had their arms around each other again. But this time was different. They looked like they were my age, and while before they seemed like good friends, now it was obvious by the way that my mom looked at Eddie, that they were a couple.And she was really looking at him, too. I had never seen her look at anyone like that. Sure, she'd dated over the years, but no one ever worked. The February night was clear and the cool air and slight breeze that blew against our dresses felt delightful. Again, like perfect gentlemen, our dates escorted us arm in arm through the entrance and paid our admission for us. The dark ballroom was lavishly decorated in a Valentine's theme that reminded me of a high school prom. We found a table in the back to was tastefully adorned with a candle in glass at the center. We settled in and observed the crowd of about two hundred. There were.