I pulled a knife on my father when I was eleven

This morning I awoke with another truth. I don’t have to get down on my knees and beg my daughter and her family to be fair to me, and let me be a father and grandfather. So, when I rose out of bed, I rose off my knees. I am done with that!

When Vicki lie in that intensive care bed, in a vegative state, she was a prisoner in every way. I sensed she was searching for something in her memory bank. My niece Shannon threatened to drive all night from Bullhead City and get me to see Vicki – before she died.

This morning when I rose off my knees, alas Vicki told me what she was looking for. She was looking for a good man in her life, a father-figure, someone who was kind to her, who stood up for her, would even die for her. Alas, she found him, then, she said goodbye!

Goodbye Vicki!

Study the photo of my beloved sister fishing in Roseville, where our father, Victor, had his chance to grow up. He didn’t take it. He did not get any visitation rights in the Presco divorce. The judge ordered him to stay away from his four children, and our home! But, what did the judge know about rasing my father. He was not doing a very good job.

So, after being up all night drinking with his Band of Cry Babies, he came in the front door of our home on San Sebastian. He had a rough beard. His eyes were red and puffy. He weaved his way toward Vicki and I. He then, spoke;

“Pack you things. You’re coming with me to see Grandma!”

Vicki did a great impression of the President!

“Are you talking – to me?!”

Then, my little sister looked at me, and asked a silent question.

“My mother said we are not to let you take Vicki anywhere!”

It was like Davy Crockett facing a angry Grizzly Bear. How dare I be the bearer of Evil Rosemary’s wicked message. This is exactly why he had NOT come to take me to Grandma’s, because I was thoroughly brainwashed by Rosemary. I was, rotten, tainted, no good – to him! I had just turned twelve.

“Go upstairs and get your things!” he commaded. Again Vicki looked at me, and then at the Drunken Emperor. She saw the hatred my father owned for me. I felt her fear as I stared IT down. As soon as Vicki was on the stairs, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could. I came back and pointed it at him.

“Get out! Get out of our house!”

King Victor, had rage, and murder in his eyes – as he took a step towards me!

“Don’t come closer – or I will stab you!”

Study my posture in the photos below. I have the posture of a man. The Monster put my brother and I to work in the produce market when we were eight and nine. He saw my brother and I having a contest as to who will be able to lift a hundred pound sack of potatoes over their head. He worked us fourteen hours a day, and then we had us sit in in the truck parked in front of Oscars, while he got his bar flies good and drunk.

The murder in my cowardly father’s eyes, waned, as it dawned on him, that he himself had filled me with REAL righteous rage, and, I owned a real reason to hurt him, other than this drunken incident. He turned and stormed out of our home in a rage, just like he did when our mother stabbed him between the eyes with knife. A stream of blood rolled down into his eyes. He saw me in my eleven year old body as he left us. My thought was;

“Good! I don’t have to go to work at 5:00 A.M.! There’s still time to play before Summer Vacation ends.

After finally getting home from work, Vic would order our mother to cook us weenies and sourkraut, along with the stale purplus vegetables we had. As we ate. he would order Rosemary to cook the big steak he bought from the butcher, it wrapped in white paper, with a string. He would eat steak while we ate hotdogs.

One night. I was awoken to my mother’s shouts.

“Hey kids! Wake up! Come and get some steak!”

The house was filled with smoke. I went down the steps while my siblings slept. Rosemary was cutting into King Victors huge steak. He had got the iron skillet good and hot, then threw on The Beef!

Then he grabbed her hand, the one with the knife in it. Big mistake. In a second she had the point of the knife – right between his eyes! Vic used both hands to keep the knife from getting closer and closer…then…POKE!

‘You didn’t think I could do it. You ____bastard!”

That when the lion ran from the lioness and her cubs!

Here are Vic’s good friends. I used to play POKER with them. Vic would call me up. He wanted me there as he told his favorite story, about ‘Rosemary’s Baby’.

“I know my son didn’t mean to pull that knife on me. His mother made him do it. She brainwashed all my children – but Vicki! Right son? You would never hurt your father? Sons have this opedius rex things. They want to kill their fathers so they can _____their mothers! Greg is like that movie, where a demon child is born. What’s the name of that movie?’

“Rosemary’s’ Baby!” Ernie said and we all had a good chuckle.

Have you had enough of the Big Crybaby in the Oval Office playing a real bad dude – with REAL bad dudes, who think he is a ________FOOL!

My beloved sister said goodbye……….to the only man in her family!

Hello – Vicki! Hello!

I met Patrice Hanson in Vic’s favorite bar. We would drink all night in there. Bars not close for Big Victim. I slept with this woman. In the morning she told me she is married to a very abusive man who is severely abusing her two boys, aged six and nine.

“Can we move in with you?”


I never asked Vicki what her favorite song is. She married a twenty-four year old Vietnam Vet when she was fourteen. He abused my sister. I gave him, the look. He had heard the Rosemary’s Baby story. It was convenient to depict me as bein too inane to be around. Jim and Vicki played a lot of Moody Blues tunes in their home. I meditated and asked Vicki what her favorite song is.

In all the conversation, verbal or written, about how Christine became famous, and where she got her gift cam from, my name was never mentioned. Did Vicki die with the terrible secret, or, did she release it. And, then, it was whisked away where it is stored with the other Ukranian conversations.

John Presco

Copyright 2019

Vicki Presco at Catholic School

Vicki Presco At Catholic School

A Eulogy Broadcast On The New Radio Church

By John Presco

Copyright 2019

My departed sister, loved going to Catholic School. She owned the best life any child could own. She was raised by her three older siblings, and only saw her mother, once in awhile.

At Catholic School the Sisters rained praise and love down on Vicki. When she got home, her brothers and sister had pillows of love waiting. We took care of Vicki. She didn’t have to do chores. Sometimes she helped Christine and I wipe the dishes dry. Rosemary saved all her love for Vicki, after wasting it – yet again – on our father who was driven out of our home when I was twelve. Vicki was seven. The Nuns knew Vicki was from a broken home. The four of us lived an extremely healthy and creative life! It was a miracle how we did it!

You can see Mark with his arms around his baby sister. Christine chose me to be her protector. Our father was deliberately cruel to my brother and I. We never told our sisters. We never went to our mother – expecting protection and mercy. Already I have crossed the Intamacy Line that a Superior Court violated when our great endeavor was sold to outsiders. I told the executor we need our intimacy, and putting us in a fish bowl so outsiders can realize a profit from our abuse – and utter grief – would kill us! Our collective soul was all but destroyed. Mark and I were shamed all the time. Our sisters loved us and needed us – till the end!

I wrote this to Shannon an hour ago, when I saw her sobbing on a computer call.

“Yesterday I was able to admit how difficult I have been for too many years. I wish I could have been more of a help. I was able to see through your eyes. Christine and Vicki had two brothers, who were way too distant .perhaps uncaring and unloving. I care for you, and love you Shannon. I will do what I can to do to relieve your loneliness. I am sorry I made Vicki;s life so lonely in the end. You are the living loneliness that has haunted our family – too long! Until I saw this photo I did not realize I could have been – family.”

I was able to see through your eyes. Christine and Vicki had two brothers, who were way too distant .perhaps Last night, I heard Vicki’s confession. She felt very guilty that she allowed our parents to turn her against her older siblings. I forgave her, for what child can fathom such a diabolical scheme. I could. I was aware of it – from the get! For they did their best to pit Mark and I against one another.  If our parents could not love one another, then no one in their family can love each other. And that is the crux of my anger that I have owned since I was a child. I was angry because I did not know what to do. I still have doubts – after I forgave my sister – and us all!

Children are not supposed to be handling these problems. Both our alcoholic and violently destructive parents, watched us crumble under the withering fire. They took notes as they experimented on us. They hated us when we – more than survived! In this photo I looks like my grandson, and Vicki’s grandson – even her son!

Mark played football, and I played drums with white drum sticks – with flames painted on them! I painted a surrealist multileveled chess board on the back of my leather jacket.  Spock and I. Even John Lennon. Vicki had a lot of good qualities to emulate.

Mark helped put men in space. Christine became a world famous artist. I own a newspaper for the arts. Vicki’s contribution was………..Love! Vicki was our ambassador of love. She had the gift to love us all in spite of our shortcomings and glaring faults. Now what will we do. This is too big of a hole, to fill: too big of a heart……to replace! Our little Vicki, is gone. Our soul, has left, this place. The Great Endeavor, looks to the wake Vicki left behind.

Let us salute!

Yesterday, I saw Vicki’s unadulterated, unfiltered light, that I suspect came down to her from the Order of Saint Francis. She was an intended heir to this light. It is unto this Order, and this Light, that I commend my beloved sister’s soul.


San Sebastian Avenue

janke93 janke114Above is Glenview Elementary School where all four Presco children attended.  Below is the home we lived in on San Sebastian. There are pics of Corpus Christi Church and Leimert Bridge. There are archways that lead to Piedmont, and the empty lot we played in. Here are the homes of my friends, and my enemies. Here is where I found my bliss.

Jon Presco

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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1 Response to I pulled a knife on my father when I was eleven

  1. Reblogged this on Rosamond Press and commented:

    When Patrice Hanson told me her husband was a San Quinton Convict who was terrrizng her two sons, and when she asked if they could come live with me, the terrible abuse my brother and I came to mind. Our father stole our childhood. Perhaps I could save the childhood of these boys that I invited into my home. I gave them sanctuary. From this agreement I concieved a daghter who can not nullify this agreement. Nir can her mother and aunt.

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