As a child I would sometimes urinate in my sleep. The warm wetness would turn cold, and wake me. Ashamed, I’d take off my Pjs and crawl under the comfort of my Sister covers. She was studying to be a teacher and taking courses in child psychology About the time I started “bedwetting”. Recognizing my unnecessary guilt, she told me not to be upset. “If that ever happens, just spoon with me and we’ll take care of it in the morning.” I did know what that meant. Mother would get so mad. Of course I had no idea why I would "wet the bed", but she did. Our Parents would often argue into the night. And although I did not understand any of it, like a dog, I felt the tension. I sensed the discourse in their voices. It was the same discourse they used to scold me. Therefore, I thought they were angry at me. The silence was worse though. Even though their biting tone would cease, I could still feel the smoldering anger. The air was thick with it. My Sister was a young woman, soon to be married and out of that hell. She was the Mother I never had. She had a huge black RCA transistor radio and use to put it next to my bed, tuned to a Rock and Roll station. I never knew why she did that until many years later. It drowned out our Parents fighting. The music became my solace. “I like bread and butter, I like toast and jam” And soon, I stopped urinating in my sleep. Of course the by-product of her intervention was that I have been a professional musician and entertainer all of my life. Music has been and always will be my solace. It blocks out the arguing in the world.