REGURGITATIONS

                 I was raised in a dysfunctional home.   Maybe, all of us were to some degree.   My home was filled with tension, harsh words, anger, threats, fear and physical punishment.   I felt perpetually unwelcome.   I would often lose myself in dreams of a better place.   A friendly, welcoming place where words produced laughter not pain.   To this end, I never missed a rerun of the Andy Griffith show during my childhood years.   Mayberry became my happy place.   Mayberry represented family and a better existence, a better America.   Baseball, apple pie and Chevrolet.   A cold coke on the porch as the autumn breeze brought another pleasant day to an end.   Maybe Uncle Andy would break out the guitar and we would sing a few tunes. No matter the events of the day it would end with a kiss on the forehead as Andy turned the bedside lamp out.   The town would rest easy, doors unlocked and windows open.   I dreamed of a weekend car trip in the police cruiser to Mount Pilot