From February of 1985 to May of 2001 I lived at the one-story rambler built at 3606 Croftview Terrace, Minnetonka, Minnesota. This house witnessed the bulk of my childhood and all of my teenage years. Alas, my memories of this place are more like a poison cloud hanging over my mind rather than like a soft, gentle one. Truth be told, I’ve grown to loathe and despise that place which -while its grounds are different, and the house itself extensively remodeled- will always be infamous to me.
Now a husband and father should both provide for his family as well as do his best to protect it. Mine did neither. On the contrary, while he lived off his rich daddy, it was never enough. Also, he glommed on to the inheritance my mother got when my grandma died in 1995. He wasted all the money he had, which toward the end left us in dire straits, but he did so on purpose, because the man was a conduit for evil of the pettiest sort.
He thought nothing of having tantrums every five minutes over this and that, or on the flip side of the coin talking mean to his wife and sons in order to shove them into the mud mentally and so try to break them emotionally. The scum never got that far, but good God how we bent, and bent, and bent some more to his abusive whims.
Oh sure, often he put on a nice guy act whenever other people were around, but once the door shut behind said visitors it was back to hell for all of us. Even when my grandparents lived with us he still pulled stuff every now and then; stuff hidden from the knowing eyes of grandma and grandpa, to be sure, but still pulled. And once they had passed away, he cranked his insanity up to the point we lived in bedlam. Doing things like break chairs, smash windows, and be just fine with it even as we cringed or, in my poor brother's case when it came to the broken window, screamed. Among many, many other things best summed up by one word: insane!
Despite all that, while we still bent, and bent, and bent some more, we did not break. This compelled him to further acts of abusive insanity like he had the power, gas, and even the garbage service cut off. The garbage service, for God’s sake! This reduced us to going around in the dead of night dumping our garbage first in dumpsters behind local businesses, and then just leaving it by the side of the road and driving off. All in a day's lunacy for Clyde Krebb's tortured family.
In 2000 our landlord informed Clyde he wanted to sell all his holdings prior to retiring to Florida. Instead of coming up with the money, when the year was up Clyde made sure we instead got evicted, made sure all our stuff went into storage (whose bill soon went unpaid) and that we shuttled around from hotel to hotel, running up a tab until we had to leave due to being unable to afford it, thus carrying his brand of insanity beyond that poor tortured house on Croftview Terrace and out into the open until, finally, mom had enough and got us away from him.
I wonder what the people who bought the Croftview house in 2001 would think if they read this? If it were me, and I read this, I would have someone come and bless the place to purge it of all the evil karma Clyde pumped into its walls.