Hm, yes, there was trouble on the homefront, always. But not anywhere near as serious before the program as after. Not that you'll bother reading or sincerely considering what I have to say, but for the benefit of other readers, I'll fill in some of the details behind your open (loaded) question.
Yes, like most trouble parents who get sucked into this scam, my parents were under extreme duress when Art pitched them. They were in the midsts of a divorce around that time. It's pretty much as Thom says; the primary issue (as I've always undersood it) was Dad's temper along w/ Mom's insistance that it was all the fault of the beer. One caveate, though. I only have my mom's side of it. Part of Dad's honor code was to never, ever, under any circumstances talk smack on Mom or even to allow it within his hearing. Even his old friend from way back, like mid `60's or so, didn't have a clue what the trouble was, just that Dad would cuss under his breath and change the subject whenever the topic of my mom came up.
And, true to form, Art sput it to his advantage. I remember very early on getting my hackles up when the alleged adults would talk about how my dad had chosen his drinking buddies over his own sons. This was simply not true, and the lie was transparent even to a 6yo. The truth was that, like any sane adult, he took umbrage at being interrogated, accused and ordered around in his personal affairs by a 16yo druggie and stormed out of the "checkout interview" cussing about Art, the professional alcoholic.
Unknown to my dear brother at the time, Dad continued to come around the house to visit me and my sister on his lunch hour almost every day. And he continued to pay child support, as well as soliciting funds and other donations for the Seed. See, while he wouldn't accept disrespect or belittlement from you turkeys, he completely bought into your fear-mongering over the "counterculture". In fact, I'd say he may have been even more strident about it.
I can't explain the descrepency. But Thom remembers Dad as having been absent for a long time. I remember the shack in the tomato field where I-95 now meets, I think, old Copans. I remember the 3 salvaged refrigerators in it, each stocked w/ a different brand of beer for his friends. And I remember the 6'+ rattle snake that he killed and skinned and hung from the old Slurpee truck he used to drive around town. I could go on and on w/ fond (and some not so fond) memories of my dad's continued involvement in us kids' lives. He pretty much involved himself just about as much as the situation would allow.
Then came my induction. John says he was right there lobbying to have me put into the Seed. Failing that, I know he was right there for the ride to Sarasota, month after month, year after year. Toward the end of that, they actually remarried for the express purpose (austensibly, of course there's always more to it) of pulling together in an effort to straighten out their last remaining druggiekid.
That lasted till about 3 weeks after Mom didn't have me to kick around anymore. W/o me to work on, she turned all of her toughlove attention onto him. That ended w/ a phone call from her outlining his plans for the rest of the day (hearing aid, job interview, punctuated by various forms of "WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING ALL DAY?! I'VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU ALL MORNING!", etc.) and a coffee cup thrown accross the room w/ such force as to become embeded in the drywall.
About 3 days later, I ran into Dad back in Pompano. Eventually, they formalized the second seperation into a divorce and we all lived relatively happily ever after.
Religion is excellent stuff for keeping common people quiet.
--Napoleon Bonaparte, French emperor
