Good and Bad Behavior

A bit more background on my parents.

My dad had a pretty short fuse, an ex-military man who worked on aviation hydraulics in the Air Force at the end of WWII. He struggled with alcoholism but had beaten it in the early years of my parents' marriage. My mom was a nurse and she fell in love with my dad when they were dating. Mom was the youngest of three sisters with over ten years age difference to her closest sibling. I never met my grandparents on Mom's side. Dad had a younger sister and a much younger brother who are both still alive today, though elderly. What little I know about my father comes from stories I had heard from my uncle. For now, I am writing about what I do remember.

Mom was a teacher and was very loving. Dad seemed to be in charge of discipline and other things that made my mother yell at him. I remember my five year old self being rewarded for being a good boy, via my mother's report at the end of the day. My father would take me in his room and pull down a fishbowl of sorts that held his loose change and small bills. I was allowed to reach my little hand in there and close my fingers around as much money as I could grab.

I never had an occasion to spend money until much later, but I was able to get these little metal disks and crunchy paper out of his spare change bowl. My brother and sisters were able to do the same.

Bad reports would usually result in the belt coming off. . .