When our next door neighbor came home drunk to beat up his wife, my dad would turn off the TV and radio, and the three of us would sit near the window that offered the best reception. Sometimes the phone would ring with another neighbor asking us if we were listening.
We used our ears more back then. Before bed, I would lay next to my dad and listen to the radio. When I was little, the two experiences of radio and family combat were much the same to me.
Sometimes the wife would show up at our door crying and bruised. She and my mother would sit in our kitchen with the doors closed.
None of us wanted the husband to come looking for her. I believe my mom tried to convince her to go home.
Nobody wanted to witness her being dragged darkly back home by the arm.
I would hide in my room when our turn came.