For most of my life, I didn't understand the reasons that motivated my Stepfather to do so many things.

Now decades and lifetimes it seems, have passed. I still struggle at times to find the most precise descriptive vocabulary to express these events, and other times I find the words flow through me like water and it's as if I'm fulfilling a part of my purpose in this life.

For a long time, it just didn't make any sense. Why would he think that teaching me to smoke grapevine at four years old would be the least bit enticing to me?

When I would ask questions as to why would someone want to smoke this, he would always seem disappointed.
Now decades later I understand, and extrapolate.
With what I see now to be his very narrow view of the world, he did these things because in his mind that was what he would do if he were of an undesirable character.

He was, most definitely of undesirable character. He smoked, drank, swore,...