Seventy Times Seven

I grew up on farms in the 1950s and 1960s, fortunate to have lived in an era when children were safe on the public roads and we truly knew and trusted our neighbors. But behind the charming facade of new kittens in the barn, hand-sewn cotton dresses and Mama winning the 1963 Pillsbury Baking contest, our family hid a terrible secret. Dad beat Mama. Over the years, the violence had become a way of life for us. Mama was embarrassed and ashamed. My siblings and I knew instinctively that most f...