Ah yes, host homes. I think we called them foster homes back in the late '70s. Anyway, I had a number of oldcomers during my 15 months. 1 trip on 1st phase and 2 refreshers. My first home and oldcomer wasn't so bad at first. Then, when I was not cooperating, they sent a cadre of oldcomers to assist in my progression. I lost my bed privledges and was relegated to the terrazo floor with a sheet. One oldcomer liked to kick me as a wake up call. Needless to say after I was kicked a couple of times, once in the head, I woke up before anyone else. I rememberbeing punished for letting my eyes wander at breakfast and reading the label of a cereal box. I was actually shoved through the wall by one visiting oldcomer for reading. Christ, it is difficult to look at stuff w/out reading. I remember being bitched at for being such a drain on my foster family. I was eating too much food and using too much water that I was hurting them financially. I was told that I was scummy. Scummy on the inside; I was told that my soul was very dark and I would probably end up in hell. I remember and can hear it today what a worthless piece of shit of a person I am. I can still hear it. I remember long hours, sometimes up to 20, 21 hours at at stretch. I remember laying on the hard, cold terrazo floor in Jan of '79 wondering how I had ended up there. I remember being held down in one foster home while the other oldcomers and new comers smeared petroluem jelly all over my body and then only letting me have about 2 mins in the shower. A shower where only cold water was allowed; no soap. I remember eating doughnuts gleaned from the garbage and only having around 16 ounces of liquid a day. Peanut butter sandwhiches with no liquid. I remember staring. I remember staring once so hard and long that I was smacked in the back of the head to get me out of it. . . no, it was more like a suker punch. I remember being 18, thinking that my life was ticking away. I needed to be in school, yet, I was on 1st phase or some fucked up refresher. I remember being "loved" so much by the group, that on my 18th birthday when I asked to leave, I was pounded into a concrete floor. That was my birthday present I was told. I remember seeing my parents across the room on open meeting night. I remember being thirsty. I remember actually crying when I got my dixie riddle cup of water and it had a small piece of ice in it. I remember seeing other children getting teh crap beat out of them. I hear children screaming. I can still hear that today. I remember children crying.
I wish I didn't remember so much.
