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youngest sister, not me, and thus I never was close to my Father nor did we ever become "buddies". At the same time, my Father made it quite clear as to what he ex- pected of me as his son. I was required to be his equal in all accomplishments or I would be a failure as a man in his eyes. He was quick to criticize failure and did not believe in praising achievement, so I soon developed the feeling that whatever I did was not good enough. (Never- theless, this early pressure created a strong desire to ex- cel in all undertakings which remains with me even to- day.) I also learned by listening to his boasts that no person, least of all his son, could ever be as good a man as he was. Even when I worked for him during my summer school vacations, I would never "earn" my salary. Rather, he would give" it to me. Did I thus turn to femininity to escape from the overwhelming pressures associated in my young mind with "manhood" and the apparent impos- sibility of ever measuring up to the goal of being a "man" in my Father's critical judgement?

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My Mother, especially as a girl and young woman, was quite attractive and pretty. She came from an Irish immigrant background and had the beautiful blue eyes, black hair, and finely chiseled features that distinguish that race of people. As a result of the lack of physical expressions of affection from Father, I turned to her-- perhaps more so than was normal for a young boy. How- ever, I can never recall any attempts on her part to effeminize me. In fact all that does remain in my memory along these lines is that she often shielded me from the wrath of my Father (when he got angry, he really got angry), and often remarked how sad she had been when the long Blonde curls I had as a baby had been cut off at my Father's insistance when I was 1 year old. (Along this path, it is interesting to note that I recall friends of the family remarking on what a "pretty" or "cute" child I was, but never how "handsome" a boy I was; or that "he should have been a girl with those pretty eyes and soft features.") In any event, natural or not, Mother became my "buddy" and I told her things that I would never have told Father. In fact, I can clearly remember that it was Mother who told me the "facts of life" when I was about 11 years olf (Dad was obviously too embarrassed or busy to take over this chore). Did I thus turn to femi- ninity in emulation of my Mother?

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