Nothing Good Happens After Midnight

I grew up in the shadow of my dad’s ego which was fed by being the lead singer and guitarist in my parent’s band. They were booked every weekend and were pretty good considering the godawful country music they played.

Two of my uncles and all of us kids played with them at one point or another. My brothers both played drums, my sister sang and played guitar and I pretended I could play on the keyboard.

During breaks and when they were finishing up for the night all of us kids had to stay outside in the parking lot. The things I witnessed in those honky-tonk parking lots in the 1980s are forever burned into my memory and could fill pages and pages. I could seriously write smut full time based on what I saw and heard.

It was quite um, educational for an inquisitive preteen girl and I honestly did learn a lot about human behavior. Most importantly, I learned what I didn’t want to be as a woman and a mother.

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