Last night as Greg, Larry, Ronald Skinner, Donald, and I were sitting in the car waiting to take off, Frostie comes charging out of Gerald’s house, breaks into the back seat and starts stabbing Larry with his hairpick. They’d just had an argument apparently, and they’re both a match as far as being vicious and bull headed when angry. I’m hanging over the front seat trying to wedge myself between them.

Donald says, "Man, I’m gettin’ out of here before I get stabbed to death.” Everyone cleared out.

Ronald manages to pull Frostie out of the car and pins him up against the wall.

Frostie’s yelling, "Get off! Get off me!" while Barb is saying, "Greg, get in the car, lock the doors and drive!"

But Frostie breaks loose, plunges back in and starts punching hard.

I’m trying to block his punches and begging, "C’mon Frostie, be cool," while he’s grunting, "Get out of the way, Jeanne!" and Greg’s hollering, "Frostie, stop!" and "Jeanne, will you get outa there before you get hurt!" and Barb’s saying, "Greg, someone’s going to get hurt!"

Greg manages to drag Frostie back out (Frostie really respects Greg), and everyone jumps back in the car, locks the doors, and we drive off with Frostie and Larry yelling to each other that they’ll finish it tomorrow, as we drive away.

I got a few light bruises on my arm where Frostie couldn’t work around me and a scratch on my cheek but mostly rattled nerves!

That kid is something else! Living with him is kind of like living on top of a volcano. You're always just a little on edge because you never know when it's going to erupt.

One night he was mad at Greg for trying to discipline him so he came into the kitchen where I was doing the dishes, pulled open the drawer, got out a butcher knife, and walked out. I about had a heart attack. I was scared stiff. I was afraid to do anything, but I knew I had to do something. Warn Barb. I walked out of the kitchen.

Frosty turned around and snapped, "You get back in that kitchen!"

I stopped dead in my tracks and when he walked on, so did I. He wheeled around with that knife and said rather viciously, "Get back in there before I knock you in there!"

Although my heart was in my mouth, I refused to budge. So he started to push and drag and wrestle me back in, with the knife still in his hand. And when I persisted in trying to get past him, he pinned me up against the wall, by the telephone, thrust his leg between mine, and said in a kinder voice, "You not stronger than me, Jeanne."

Then Barb came on the scene and my purpose was accomplished. She saw the knife. Frostie went downstairs and waited for Greg to come home from the gym. Barb went downstairs too, and talked to him gently for a long time, and he finally put the knife back where he got it.

Just last week he was mad at Barb and I swear I stood with the phone against my mouth, and my finger in the dial for the police because I thought he was going to hit her. He gave her a black eye and bruised nose recently. And then he came upstairs and threatened to break my face if he saw me pick up the receiver again. He’s so strong, there’s not much you can do to restrain him. He can pick me up and throw me around like a little kid and I’m 5’ 10" tall and weigh 140 lbs.

He has his playful side too. One day he met me walking up the stairs, picked me up and carried me hollering up the stairs over his shoulder. He set me down at the top, and explained with such seriousness, "I was kidnapping you."

One night he came into my room in a playful mood and grabbed me and said, "Me and my sister gonna talk," and started to pull me down on the bed.

I refused to be "sat.”

"Nope.”

"C’mon, Jeanne," he said, "Don’t fight all right, you asked for it."

All of a sudden I felt myself going up, over his shoulders, and smash, down on the bed! Ronnie was in the room and said he about had a heart attack, because my head missed the headboard by about 3 inches!

One night he picked me up in his arms, whirled around and threw me on the bed! You can imagine how I react. Nobody has ever rough housed with me. My Dad never touched me, I didn’t have any brothers, and Papo wasn’t strong enough and four years at Bob Jones (with the six inch rule) sure didn’t help any!

One afternoon Frostie came into the dining room, and tilted my chair back way back. My reaction was 1)I tucked my dress properly under my knees, 2) said, "Stop!" and 3) grabbed hold of him for balance.

"Stop," he mocked me. "Let go of me, Jeanne let go!"

I took my arms off him and grabbed the chair.

"Frostieeee, quit!"

"Say, ‘Uncle Frostie,’" he demanded.

"Uncle Frostie!" I said immediately.

As the kids would phrase it, I’m not stupid!