Two Dimes a Day: How Two Little Boys Survived a Broken Home Caused by Addiction in the 1950s

As I was contemplating writing this book, after much encouragement from family over the years, I wasn't sure about undertaking the task. I wrestled with these thoughts most of one night, and by morning, I knew how to solve my dilemma. I got down on my knees beside the bed and prayed for God to give me a "Gideon-like" sign to prompt my decision.

Later that day, my wife, Nellie, and I were at Wendy's drive-through for lunch when Nellie stepped out of the vehicle, reached down on the ground, picked something up, and said to me, "I got you something," as she placed two dimes in the palm of my hand.

I had not told her about my prayer and definitely had not told her that the title of the book, if I wrote it, would be Two Dimes a Day.

I first started to laugh then the tears came, and she said, "What's wrong?"

I said, "Do you know the title of my book?"

She said, "No."

Divine intervention at His best!

My memories of living with addiction began at the age of three. My father was well educated, attended Marshall University, and was a very talented journalist and linotype operator, working for numerous newspapers on the East Coast, including the Washington Post and the New York Times. Our lives should have been very normal and happy; however, his extreme addiction to alcohol quickly destroyed any sense of normalcy. My mother did everything humanly possible to keep our family intact; however, a broken home became evident. At the age of three and five, my brother, Billy, and I were immediately thrust into survival mode. Thanks be to God for His divine intervention into our lives. Also, thank God for Blanche McClintic, my dad's first cousin, who instilled a solid biblical foundation into our lives at a very young age. This foundation still sustains us today.