Praise for Roughneck Daddy "Donna Orchard grew up in the unpredictable world of fear and love every child of an alcoholic will recognize."...Frances Caldwell, Aywn Publications "I savored the depth and complexity of this short volume. It's a worthy experience that left me longing for more." ...Melanie Ferguson, Ph.D. "I was transported into a different world by the author's child narrator. The young girl's perspective made the story come alive." ...Mary Van Antwerp, Rehabilitation Counselor "The consistently endearing, funny and scrappy voice of the little girl vividly connects the episodic scenes of the book as she tries to make sense of the sometimes frightening events of her life."...Benjamin Keaton, Teacher: English as a Second Language "Roughneck Daddy is heartrending and its authentic characters keep walking in my mind. It jolted me with its bold honesty about a young girl's ability to love and forgive within a family torn apart by alcoholism."... Susan Roullier, Computer Science Teacher Roughneck Daddy is set in the 1950s in a small North Louisiana town close enough to the border to give me a Southern drawl with an Arkansas twang. The reader sees the family through this child's voice from age three when she was snatched from her mother to about seven or eight. Daddy, who worked on oil rigs in Louisiana and East Texas, was a compelling character in my life;however, this story is about me and my sometimes sad, but more often humorous life growing up in the South. The sights, smells, and sounds of an oil well seeped into my bones along side the roughneck's way to relax: A fight, a drink. and a woman. At three I was taken from my home in Cincinnati, Ohio, to my new home in Del City, Louisiana, to be raised by my father and his parents. I learned quickly to crawl up on the kitchen cabinet for cereal, to steal hand-me-downs out of my big sister's drawer and to never ask for Mama. A loving father at times, Daddy continued to create mayhem. Why did he never change? Was my life to end in the same sad way as my father's, mumbling to myself in a state hospital for the mentally ill?