Child Beater (as promised):

When I married my first husband (1960 in Wolf Point) his very best friend all through high school lived right next door for a time with his wife and two children, a five-year old daughter and a one year old baby boy. One day the baby was taken to the hospital with a broken leg. The wife told the story that the perp (I'll call him Lonnie) had dropped the baby on the wooden arm of a chair. At the time, a nagging doubt plagued me. I became more alert, and one day after the baby's leg had healed, I sat in their living room playing with him. Lonnie walked into the room, and the baby grabbed my leg and started crying, trying to get far away from his dad. I glanced up and saw pure hatred on Lonnie's face as he looked at the child. I told my husband, "That baby is scared to death of his dad." Ray pooh poohed the remark and I dropped the issue, but remained disturbed. Less than a year later, before the baby's second birthday, I heard the gossip that the baby had had another broken bone-his arm-and Lonnie and his wife had driven all night, 400 miles to Bozeman, before getting treatment for the baby. I'm sure they knew that taking the baby to the Wolf Point hospital could have led to arrest and jail time. Her brother, who lived in Bozeman, found out about it, and started the process of removing the baby from Lonnie and his wife. The wife left Lonnie for awhile, but soon she was back with him, and gave birth to ANOTHER baby boy. About that time, I left Wolf Point, but ran across Lonnie a couple times in connection with my work. I asked no personal questions. He always acted as if we were the best of old friends, even though Ray and I had been divorced for years.

At the book signing at the Wolf Point library last Monday, I told my husband Jim "That guy is liable to show up. He thinks we're friends-that I don't know about what he did to his son." Jim couldn't imagine anyone having the gall. Sure enough, just as I started speaking, in he walked. He sat at the very back of the room and kept his face hidden behind a white cowboy hat. After the discussion about the book, he took his place at the very back of the autograph line. When he reached me, his statement was, " I really liked your book. I know just how you girls felt." Then he started to describe to me all the "beatings" he'd had as a child, how the razor strap felt, etc.

I stopped him and said," Lonnie, the difference between you and me is: I made the CHOICE not to abuse my kids. Your choice was using your parents as an excuse to abuse your little boy." He could sense the hostility in my voice.

"Yeah, you really lucked out on that," he said. "It's really coming back to haunt me."

I was so outraged I was speechless, and I turned my back on him. Later, I thought of a hundred things I should have said to him, like. "LUCKY? What does luck have to do with it? I made the CHOICE! And you want me to feel sorry for YOU, for beating your baby?"

I also should have asked him, "When that baby, now 45 years old, beats HIS kids and goes to jail (times have changed!) do you suppose he'll sit in his cell and blame YOU? It's all a matter of CHOICES!!

That's enough for now. I've met some VERY interesting people. We are off to Malta, and on the way we're stoppind for a couple of days at Fort Peck for fishing and dinosaurs. We'll meet my 14 year old grandson in Malta, and take him back to Washington with us. I'll report on the turnout and discussions next time (a total of 75 people and 125 books in Wolf Point.-0