1968 was a bit of an adjustment. Since Dad left and late 1967, Mom spent a lot of time crying. We lived in a high-rise apartment in Pennsauken, new jersey, and she worked very hard. At that point in her life, she was a nurse and worked at one of the local hospitals. She spent her off time staring into the television and pretty much ignored me. My brothers moved out, and I later found out that it was because they could not deal with her depression. The dead continued to throw Margaret in her face because Margaret was supposedly young and beautiful. In actuality, she wasn't, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I would go for day visits with Dad, and we would spend our time with him ignoring me too. At three years old, I learned independence. Except for mornings when one of my brothers would stop by and give me a bowl of cereal, I would make my own food, which says something for the 1960s, and I would even take a bath without being told. One thing that I do remember quite clearly is that Robert got in some kind of legal trouble and the police were looking for him for a couple of months. By that time he had hooked up with a blonde hippie with a severe attitude and a serious addiction to marijuana. But none of it affected me because I would sit and do my thing. It wasn't until the following year that things started to get interesting.