Dad In Jail-1963

My mother had gone out with my father one night. They seemed to go out a lot now that I think about it, but he was in a shuffleboard league and mom would always go to watch. More so to watch him because he couldn't be trusted I guess. They always went to Herkimer to the bars over there. Either Lombardo's or The Star Grille or The Blue Moon. Later that night my mother came home and she came into my bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed and told me that dad was in jail. I guess he had hit her right on main Street and the cops arrested him and put him in there for the night. She was crying because she was afraid he'd beat her more when he got out. He'd think it was her that had him arrested. There was nothing I could do but listen to her and try to calm her down. Inside I knew that my father would beat her again, like he always did when he came home drunk. It was a hell of a life. He used to beat on all of us whenever he felt like it.
One time he even put a hot iron on my sister, Jeanne's rear end and left quite a burn. We were always afraid of him.
The next morning he came in the door with that shit eating grin on his face and acted like nothing ever happened. But I could tell my mom was real nervous. I remember him saying that if any cop or trooper stepped onto his porch, he'd shoot them. He'd always have his shotguns around and sometimes even point them at our mother and threaten to shoot her. Just one, mean, bastard he was, that's for sure. I wished they had kept him in jail forever. I never wanted him home really. I always wondered why my mother took him back in when we lived on Montgomery Street, back in 1955, when he got out of jail. She never should have. But who knows why people do the things they do.