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Lakewood's History
of Gambling

Gambling Community
in Lakewood

These are the stories from those of us in our community that have dealt with the issue of gambling addiction.

Each story told in the authors own words. We have express consent to repost these stories from the author and ask that you take the time to read more about it and see what gambling does from the eyes of those affected.

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My Childhood with a Gambling Addict

Have you ever lain in bed as a ten-year old thinking up reasons you could give your father as to why he should buy you new shoes? Mine were too small, worn out, pinching my toes, ugly- all of the above. I knew I had to present my arguments logically and without malice. I did this several nights until I worked up the courage. It was very stressful, but I finally confronted him. It was all to no avail as I was told that he had no money and couldn’t afford my shoes. The only problem was the next day, with racing forms in hand; he did his usual thing and headed for the races.

My dad was basically a good man, quite an intelligent man, having been offered a scholarship to a Jesuit university in Scotland. I knew he loved me, but I knew he suffered from a double whammy: Not only was he addicted to gambling, horse and dog racing, but he was also an alcoholic. There were constant fights regarding money. My mother endured physical abuse from time to time (I remember as a preschooler handing her a baseball bat), as she verbally fought him for money for the essentials. Finally, she divorced him and that was the impetus for him to quit drinking, but it had no effect whatsoever with his need to gamble.

When I was in high school I was invited to a formal dance. I asked Dad for the money to buy a gown, but got the usual response- we couldn’t afford it, there was no money. MY father always earned top wages in his field as an ornamental plasterer from Scotland, but there was no money. Yea, right! I learned to be resourceful in the midst of my hurt. I wrote a letter to my uncle in Canada. I had never met him, but it was my last resource. God bless him! He responded quickly and sent me twenty dollars for my dress.

My dad’s room was piled high with racing forms. He always had a pencil that was half blue and half red so he could mark them. He knew who sired every horse or dog, their weight, their speed, their wins, their losses. As I grew older, I remember thinking that if all that brainpower had been used in a different way, we never would have been “short of money”.

While all of these memories are hurtful and unpleasant, I was fortunate to have a five-foot, two eyes of blue, 105 pound mom, who loved my brother and me with every ounce of her being. She fought for us, protected us, and above all made us believe in ourselves. As a result of her, my brother became a jet pilot in the USMC and for Eastern Airlines, and I got a four year scholarship to college, became a teacher and later a successful business woman.My heart literally cries for all the families who are impacted negatively by the ruination caused by gambling, which is growing like a cancer all around us.

As a final aside, my father started drinking again after being on the wagon for 15 years. He never did stop gambling and died in his sixties, living alone on Social Security and too poor to buy the medicines he needed for high blood pressure.

I often conjecture what my life would have been like, had he not been a gambling addict. He was a proud man and never asked for help or how much he needed it.

Joanne,

Lakewood resident