The Lodge

When we were growing up DaddyDearest was a card-carrying member of the Bristol, Tennessee chapter of BPOE, better known as the Elks. Mind you, he was no ordinary member. He was as devoted a lodge member as any loyal wapiti that was ever admitted into its benevolent arms. Mainly, though, I think it's where he went to get away. I'm not sure what specifically he was so intent on getting away from; be it the house full of neglected children or the dysfunctional marriage, it really didn't matter. We all grew to loathe the Elks as much as he grew to love it. As soon as he left work in the afternoon, he'd stop by the house to pick up his mail, then head downtown to his home away from home, where he'd usually stay until midnight. If we needed him for anything, we knew where to reach him. Like when MommyDearest went to night school and we were left in charge.
"Hello?"
"Hey."
"What's up?"
"Someone's trying to break in and we're here by ourselves."
"Where's the warden?"
"She had class tonight."
"Are they still there?"
"I don't think so. Whoever it was ran away when I started screaming."
"Okay, well call me back if anything else happens."

Or, like the time Priscilla "ran away from home."
"Hello?"
"Hey."
"What's up?"
"Priscilla's gone. I think she ran away. She may be pregnant."
"How do you know she ran away?" (No reference to the possible pregnancy)
"Her stuff is gone and she didn't come home after class today."
"Okay. Well, if she doesn't show up in a couple of hours, call me back."

Over the years he held every office in his Elks chapter, culminating in the highest of all, the Exalted Ruler, which his offspring so lovingly referred to as the Exhausted Rooster.
The only time we kids ever saw the inside of the Elks Lodge was for the occasional Friday night family bingo events. The stage in the big room would be littered with toys, and if you bingo-ed (and everyone did), you got to run up and pick the one you wanted. It was how the hard-core (i.e. absentee parent) members assuaged their guilty consciences. I once scored a fabulous erector set that gave me literally minutes of fun.
The real fun actually started when the bingo was over and all the other families went home. Except for us and our friend, Sandy. We had daddies who weren't about to let the presence of their kids interfere with their usual routine: staying in the "Gay Nineties Room" (their cleverly disguised name for the drinking hole) until it closed, sometime after 1 a.m. We found ourselves a key position just across the hall from the entrance to the "Room". We were perched in a window seat in an otherwise dark and scary, empty (except for a couple of wheel chairs) room in the old Elks building, our only goal in life - to be where we could see the huge picture of the naked woman hanging over the bar when the bar doors swung open. It was scandalous! As the crowd thinned, we'd steal a glance every few minutes, and in between, we'd entertain ourselves with scary stories, as if the room we were in wasn't scary enough. Our daddy and Sandy's daddy were always the last to leave. Neither one wanted to go home to the mother of their children.
Good times.