This phrase, ‘domestic dysfuntion’, sends shudders up and down my spine. Why? Because I lived it. And I was an only child. That gave me only two confidantes: my imaginary friend, Alicia, and our dachshund, Duke. In those days, no one talked about such things. This was especially true in the case of a family like mine: Riches to rags, Horatio Algers in reverse. And I grew up, slowly watching the reel unwind from highly educated upper class down to twins of the people on the street holding out their hands, “Spare change?”
Please join me in discussing this phenomenon, which I present in my recently published memoir, Rotting Floorboards and Debut Dreams: Tripping through Childhood before LSD.