Forgotten dates doesn’t mean it’s a lie


This is in regards to a previous letter. The writer doesn’t know all women and about being abused.

I was in Ford’s position 52 years ago. At 18, I was forced down in the front seat of a car. I was in the Air Force living at the Barracks on a base in the south. When I went out on a job to babysit, the father took me back — he stopped the car on a side street and tried to undo my clothes. I kicked the window, I threw the car keys.

No, I can’t tell you the month or the day it occurred. But I can tell you that I didn’t ask to be almost raped.

No, I didn’t tell anyone. I was shy, lonely and very naive. I was scared. I remember telling the girl at the desk later that night that a guy had tried something, but they didn’t take a name in that call and I didn’t know it.

I don’t remember lots of dates. I have lost both parents and an older brother and don’t remember all the dates. The only way I remember having had cancer is because of the chemo and because my granddaughter was born when I started treatment.

I’m not a liar, but I know someone who lies to people’s faces and then jokes about it. Why would anyone think he’s not lying?

Maybe you think I’m lying because I don’t remember dates or didn’t tell anyone?

I remember everything that was done to me, and I’m telling now.