It’s Finals Week

This week is officially finals week for my first quarter back to school since 1998.  I can not believe it has been 20 years.  No wonder I’m out of “academic” shape.  🙂 

Anyway, one of my classes allowed us to make a Story Map in lieu of the final.  Here is my final product.  We’ll have to wait and see what the grade is.  IF it’s good, I’ll share. LOL

Well, I guess not!  It seems that my project has been blocked, even though I used their link for sharing the work with.  Wierd!!  🙂 You can try it and see if it works.  

later: This link works.  🙂

Story Map for: 

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Insight from that past, that applies to today…

Borrowed from the textbook, available at the

Working on homework for history class. Essentially learning that between 1820 and 1850 as more (white) non propertied men got the vote the system became more democratic (the founding fathers did not like democracy and were flat out against it for the most part) and at the same time more divided and raucous. Kind of like today’s politics.

Supposed to be evaluating a painting made at that time, showing a politician named Bingham on the stump. At first I did not see what the professor was looking for. But, after reading my own description of the painting I realized that the politician was dressed as a well off, propertied man might dress. In other words, one of the (white) “elites” who were in the process of loosing some power. At the stump he was above the crowd, which would seem normal if he wanted to see everyone. But, being above a crowd sends a message of one feeling a little more than equal than those whom you are speaking to. The body language of the politician was that of an adamant man (I think). But, is he talking down at the people or is he talking to them as if they are equal?

I suddenly discovered that if he is dressed like an elite then he probably is, which means he’s probably taking a paternalistic attitude, which in plain English means his speech probably had a lot of “shoulds and aughts” in it, as he looked down on the hard working people below him. The final question on this particular piece is who does Bingham represent, Democrats or Whigs?

The way I ended up was saying the man favored Whigs. The Whigs are today’s Republican Party — the conservatives and the Christian, THE RIGHT. And it has dawned on me through this one line of questioning that I (and I am probably not alone) feel that the Right is getting pretty preachy and trying give us lot’s of shoulds and aughts in a very paternalistic way (McConnell really comes to mind here). This country today is supposed to be about compromise, freedom, which allows for creativity in all things. I see now the history of the Right and the Left and how the Right especially has trickled down through time. The “elites” are just trying to take back the power — and a whole lot of people are want to hang on to those coat tails. No one on the left is trying to stop democracy or freedom. And NO one has the right to tell a woman what to do with her body.

We are all allowed to have our opinions but we are not allowed to force them on others. It is the same with religion — the reason our country came to be for the most part. We have a lot of arrogance in this country when it comes to religion. We have no rights to judge Muslims… our national slate if far from clean — we have got plenty of blood on our hands.

And yes, I still say America was already great despite that. Mr. Davis from a previous post got me somewhat riled. Probably why I made all these connections… I have always felt that Trump represents the ‘elite’ and he shows his willingness to provide for that sector by taking away from all of us what is ours, including our environments’ protections in nature and in the market place (giving big oil, who doesn’t need anymore of our money, the rights to drill in some beautiful places where NO business should be). He supposedly does all this for our good, which is a totally paternalistic attitude.

I have, in my old age, grown tired of the paternalistic. Most of us have a few brain cells, and we have a tendency to use them or we would not have made it this far in life. There is no way we can sustain this massive population on our planet without rules for everything unfortunately. Let the rules protect the majority which in the world view is NOT the (white) elite and does include our children and grandchildren. Government is not about corporation, in the United States it is supposed to be about the people, for the people, by the people. (Lincoln was Republican, but the parties did a flip/flop there for awhile). (Note the lack of people of any color in the painting? There were some blacks who actually could vote until those rights were finally taken away by 1850).

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Story Map

Samplers of Colonial America

I am working on a story map for a class project. Refresh on occasion, just in case, I’ve worked on it since you last saw it. 🙂 P

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It All Just Makes Me Sad…

The Great Northwest Log Haul of May 13, 1988. More than 300 trucks from Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and Montana hauled over 1 million board feet of timber to Darby, Montana in defiance of the economic policies of the day and some really nasty marketing by militant environmental groups (not to mention a few spotted owls). ~Bartleby Scribbler

I’m not sure just why this photo and story was posted on Facebook.  I thought it was a serious post, and then  I looked at the profile of the person who posted it, and if the person is really that young, then they are not old enough to have written the piece which means it was copied and pasted.  Was it posted for political reasons?  At this point, I really think probably so.

In 1988, I had a four year old.  I wasn’t even living on the west coast anymore.  But, at that time I had uncles driving truck, and hauling timber in Oregon and an uncle who harvested the timber and then hauled it.  He had the trucks and the skidders! So, I understand the idea that the timber fed families, paid there heat bill, etc. etc. etc.  I also understand the pride of work, and having family who does the work.  I get it.  And in 1988, I might have agreed with the idea of “marketing of militant environmental groups…”

Hindsight is 20/20 of course.  I can look back and see that all the troubles over the Spotted Owl was not a hoax.  That the environmental people though perhaps quite active and verbal actually had a point, and were simply trying to voice some information that we all really needed to HEAR.    Even the economic policies that the person who posted the photo were supposed to protect the environment and ensure that there was timber to harvest for the next generation, and so on. 

And what I am about to say, I’m sure will be hated by those in the Timber industry.  Along with anyone who supports (cough) Mr. (cough) Trump (cough, he doesn’t deserve the respect he was just given….cough).  

I did not see that photo in 1988.  I saw it in 2019.  And all I got was a sinking feeling that I never realized just how much timber was hauled off these mountains and out of the valleys.  All this photo did was make me incredibly sad for all of us on this planet. 

Climate change is real folks!  I have really been seeing the changes in the world in the last few years.  Dramatic changes in weather patterns.  I noticed that on my own.  So, I was already pretty much convinced.  But, I’m now a student at OSU, and for my first quarter, one of my classes is: Intro to Climate Change.  It is a science class that counts now only as science credits but as the lab credits as well.   I can’t believe how much information there is to take in.  It’s amazing!

I’m not going to go into the science of it here.  There are plenty of websites out there that accurately explain what is going on with our climate.  I’ll put some links in at the end for you even.  But, suffice it to say that not only am I convinced, but my doubting Thomas husband is also convinced.  He no longer see’s this as a ‘political hoax’.  I will tell you what.  I was shocked that he changed his mind so quickly.  I took only a couple of well made documentaries showing some of the science.   Wow. 

So, why did the photo make me sad.  I was sad that many trees were cut down.  And in 1988 there was probably no law that required that the area be replanted (pretty much immediately) as there is today.   I am sorry for the loss of all that potential carbon storage.  Really, that is what trees do very efficiently — is store carbon.  Believe it or not carbon is not the worst greenhouse gas in and of itself.  Methane is the worst.  But, Methane has a relatively short life in the atmosphere, carbon can live in the air for hundreds of years.   That is the fact that makes carbon so bad for the atmosphere.  

Scientists are using proxy dating (no…not that kind of dating) — using ice cores, tree rings, coral rings, pollen, and other really cool things to see the atmosphere was over thousands and more years.  Humans have basically doubled the amount of carbon in the atmosphere mostly in less than 50 years.  It all started of course, over 100 years ago, and that is when climate change was first detected and announced by scientists.  

The models produced by scientists project climate change at (usually) 3 different paths, with the variables usually listed at  1. All carbon emissions stopped  2. Carbon emissions at today level (about 440 ppm) and 3.) a higher level.  No matter which model you choose the future does not look bright for our children and grandchildren.  

But, we are not at the tipping point yet.  We are close.  We need to be mindful about what we are doing to our environment.  It really is the only one we’ve got.  When you borrow something in general you return it in better shape than when you got it.  That is how we should be aiming to do for our children.  We should be doing it for ourselves as well.  Everyone’s health and welfare depend on us realizing what is going on, and doing something about it.  

My sadness at seeing the photo, is another level of realization that climate change is on the way.  Well, actually, it’s here.  That mankind has been very unkind to the planet and cutting down tons of trees is really just the beginning of the whole mess. What people don’t realize is that even if we stop carbon emissions right now our great grandchildren would still be living with the consequences of too much carbon in the atmosphere.  That is why I am sad.  Suddenly the economic consequences come to my mind, the human consequences, consequence for the critters in the world — severe weather, droughts, possible stopping of the great currents in the oceans that help to cycle the warmth and coolness around the world like a conveyor belt.  All the possibilities are mind boggling, and saddening. 



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What is Atmospheric Trust Litigation?

Has anyone out there heard of the Atmospheric Trust Litigation??

Taking care of our atmosphere is not an option, it is a fundamental responsibility of us all. Our very survival as individuals and as a species depends on it. So, does all the other life on this planet. We are very arrogant indeed, if we think otherwise.  (Photo Copyright, Peggy A Rowe-Snyder, 2010)

The Atmospheric Trust Litigation is a lawsuit that has been filed in all 50 states and elsewhere in the world. This litigation assumes that the atmosphere should be held in trust for the public by the government and therefore must be cared for as the government would care for any other resource (i.e. National forest lands, BLM lands, etc.) on behalf of the public. Keeping that in mind, one tactic they are using is to sue on behalf of young people. One reason for this is that young people are the future and represent most completely the future and shows that the governments responsibility to care for a resource is being held In trust for. If the suit succeeds then the atmosphere would have to be redefined as a resource and held in trust in accordance with those existing laws. The hope of the author is that the suit will succeed in pushing the courts to force the government to create viable and comprehensive policy about climate change that is scientifically up to standard.
After some thought, there are similarities between a financial trust and a trust where something is being held, protected, cared for, etc. In a financial trust situation, the monies are being protected by the trustee. The trustee gets to decide just how the money is spent. However, there are laws in place that mandate just how the money is spent, and the trustee would have to justify all the decisions that are made. With all that in mind, a Trustee can NO spend money for him or herself at all. It is NOT their personal slush fund. They can draw a salary or some sort of paycheck for the work they do on behalf of the client, but they cannot, for example, build a new pool in their backyard just using someone else’s money. There are over sites put into place to try and make sure these sorts of ABUSES do not happen.
So, under this reasoning the government does not “own” the atmosphere, instead they are a trustee of the atmosphere and in that role they should (and would be forced to by the new litigation) care for the resource(s) as they would any other resource held in trust.
Having said that, what really made this particular topic very much local to me is when I made the connection between all these national forests and BLM lands that surround me where I live in Southern Oregon. To my east is Winema National Forest, closer in to my east is Umpqua National Forest, to my northwest is Siuslaw National Forest, to my South is Klamath National Forest. I have been in the Deshutes National Forest, and probably any and every forest in Oregon. Where I come from in Northern California there is the Redwoods National and STATE forests. On some level a lot of our local forest land is being protected. And you’d think this is silly, but my guess if they were not protected the timber companies would have done away with them years ago. My guess is that there would be no old growth forests left. Society and especially corporate America does not have a good track record when it comes to conservation and preservation of OUR resources.
So, we do have these forests, and the government doesn’t say we can’t harvest some trees, but they sure put limits on the numbers and sorts of trees that can be taken. They have rules about how far away a tree can be harvest in terms of how close it is to a waterway (any water way). So, in caring for the forests, the government also has to care for habitat for natural fisheries (i.e. salmon), and the ground under the trees, etc. etc. etc.
It seems quite logical to me to try and apply this reasoning to the atmosphere. I love the idea of forcing the government to come up with a plan of action. While they are at it, they can come up with a plan of education. Just like Smokey the bear is meant to educate citizens about the dangerous of fire, and fire prevention and protection from– these same principles should be applied to atmosphere.
All of us breath it! Our pets breathe it. All the wild critters breathe it. We can’t live without a good fresh and clean supply of it. The question in my mind is why hasn’t this been done much sooner…
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A Monograph

I am learning in my OSU History class that at least in these circles that books are no longer called books, they are called a monograph.  And a book review is not called a book review, it’s called “History in a Box”.  In order to do a complete job these days you create graphics as well as doing the old fashioned book report which should be done, “succinctly.”  We’ll find out if I get docked for going over only around 500 words.  Really, I did.  

Below is the book cover.  Then will come the book review, and then will come my “History Book in a Box” graphics, including a timeline that goes with the review and book.  I still have to build the interior of the box.  This is supposed to be done using a website called  I did the timeline in Canva, but I did the exterior of the box in Photoshop.  I just know Photoshop better.  Hope you Enjoy. 

History in a Box
Book Review
Prof. Shay
Peggy A Rowe

Siege & Survival, David R. M. Beck

Siege & Survival, by David Beck

The Book Review:
Part I: Analyzing the Book

This section is entirely focused on your assessment of the book and the author’s capable treatment of the topic.  See the assignment guide for complete information

Beck, David R. M. Siege and Survival: History of the Menominee Indians, 1634-1856.
Lincoln, Neb.: University of Nebraska Press, 2003.  Reviewed by Peggy A Rowe

This book, Siege and Survival: History of Menominee Indians, 1634-1856 is pretty much just what the title says it is.  It is a chronological history of the Menominee people and of course their history between the years listed.  While the title pretty much says it all, one point the author makes over and over is that those Menominee’s are still walking this earth.   I do not believe for one minute that is a side note.  Not with that title.  These people were hit time and time again with disease, abuse from the young American Government, abuse by Agents, Traders, Negotiators, and others.  They were truly under siege.  And while their numbers were dropped very low by these circumstances along with others, such as starvation, they survived. 

This book contains eleven chapters and within those chapters the author moves us from Menominee prehistory all the way to 1856 in the end.  On average each chapter is around 25 pages with some being more pages and some less.  The author does the job in giving a history in concise terms that are not overly artistic and not over spoken either.  I ran into only one word that I did not know, Usufructuary, which I looked up in the dictionary and still don’t get.  Other than that one word the book is very easy reading.  It flowed very well. 

The first chapter sets the stage of the story and tells about the Menominee life along with their cultural and spiritual beliefs.  The author describes their formal government, that while not written down, was remembered and passed down from generation to generation verbally.  There were laws for everything – marriage, divorce, harvest, hunting courtesy, and how to share the land and its resources with others.  The author draws on many sources to tell his stories but specifically uses for foundational works by, Albert Ernest Jenks to help us learn about the native’s economy and other habits.  (I had questioned relying on one source, or person so much, i.e. A. E. Jenks, until I looked up who he was: American Anthropologist with a PhD in economics.  While I was impressed, and even found a copy of Jenks’s writing on Google Books, one must take into consideration that his work seems to be mostly comprised of secondary sources.  The chapter also tells about the wonderful natural resources that the people have including the wild rice they harvest and use for food and the sturgeon which seems as if it’s a major source of protein for them.  The author also talks a little bit about the sugar maple.  Apparently, the natives referred to them as ‘sugar bushes.’ David Beck lays out the framework and foundation of a society of people who believe themselves to the first people in the area where they are from and where they live, south and east side of the state of Wisconsin and down into the most north parts of Illinois and east into Michigan.  The people were broken up into subgroups first the names of the two primary groups, the Menominee and the Ho Chunks. Then they break themselves up into Clans and Tribes, etc.

Chapter two is about the time when the homeland of the Menominee was a place of trading of furs between French fur traders and the Menominee people themselves along with their native neighbors.   The French were the first white people the Menominee had met.  They were awed by what they saw and broke out the pipe and Indian tobacco.  The author points out that surely this reaction to the Traders were allegory.   Considering the Menominee probably had managed to get hold at the very least some trade items and so knew of the existence of the French traders.   But the author seemed to point out that even with that fore knowledge that the Europeans were out there, there was still some shock when they showed up in the homeland.

The chapter talks about how the Menominee perceptions of the traders were eventually corrected and how the trade developed.  The chapter also talks about the Jesuits and how they came into the territory to spread THEIR idea of spirituality amongst the natives.  It details how the Jesuits considered the Menominee’s superstitious “living outside the sphere of salvation” (Chapter 2, Page 34).  These Jesuits showed up in 1665 formed a mission and set about working to make Catholics out of the natives.  The descriptions in the books says that the Catholic symbolism and religious ceremony were appealing to the natives as they could attach meaning from their own spirituality onto the symbolism -but their understanding of the rituals were not the same understanding of the Jesuits.  On page 43 in chapter two, the author admits that there are few primary sources from this time period that specifically tell about the Menominee opinions of the day.  Though it is no fault of the Menominee people, it doesn’t help the reader in trying to decide what may not quite be right due to projections and suggestion of what might have been.  The best source material of that times seems to be from letters and other documents from the traders themselves and no one from that side of the world was going to speak for the natives. 

Between the lines of information of the traders and the Jesuits the author also points out that disease took its toll on the natives at least twice (Small pox), and that they were cheated in trading by their Ottawa neighbors who traded the Menominee pelts for Ottawa used and discarded trade goods.  At the end of the chapter, Mr. Beck also points out that while the Menominee people were not the primary fur movers in the area, they certainly were impacted by the fur trade.  Trade goods did not lighten the Menominee women’s workload in the least, they only made it so that they could get more done in terms of processing hides, etc.   The good news is that the Menominee way of life was not greatly impacted by the French, traders and Jesuits, the new ways of living that they brought with them.   I have to say one thing for the author, he sure crammed a lot of information into a small book

Mr. Beck leads us through the years where the Menominee people met up with the first fur traders they ever met and how the fur trade eventually hurt their lives.  He led us through time to when American settlers started pushing west and into the Menominee’s land.  The way he wrote, I could picture myself a fly on the wall and watching while agents of the American government tried to negotiate the native’s rights and homeland away.   I felt the threats they made at “the people.”  He explained when the Missionaries and other religious groups came, to convert the heathens to Christianity, and how they did and did not care for the children in terms of schooling them.  David Beck introduced us individually to the Treaties that sometimes the natives would sign, sometimes they would not, sometimes they did but only under duress (i.e. threat), and always it is shown that they fought back in the end.

Mr. Beck does a great job threading the story together.  One-piece fits into a piece on a future page, and you can usually look back over what you have read and find what led into the part you are reading now.  He did a lot of research prior to the writing, and the source list is important.   The notes and bibliography fill in the range starting at page 212 and go up to 266.  That is fifty-four pages of notes, sources, etc. I was impressed with that part.   

This was a story that explained enough about the Menominee world view and understanding of their world that it allowed us to see inside and understand perhaps somewhat the way they understood as Treaties were pushed upon them and land was stolen from them.  As their resources dwindled and we could have a picture in our minds of the conversations they were trying to have with government agents trying to get them to understand from their point of view, trying to explain and ask why their own money was used to pay for things that the government had promised to pay for.  I can imagine the great frustration that they must have felt.  But I also admired very much how they realized early on what they wanted, and that there were cheats in the system, and they pointed this out.  They did not give up, nor did they give in.  They kept their eyes on the prize so to speak.  And in their way, they won – they kept their integrity and maintained their independence (and that was shaky from an economic point of view many times)

If Mr. Beck had a bias, then I would have to say the bias was in defense of the Menominee people themselves.  Considering their treatment over the generation by everyone they met, probably 99.9% of them European in descent, I can not imagine how a person with a conscious could not have this bias.  It was obvious in more than one place in the book that he at least tried to explain what happened from the other guys point of view.

If I had one complaint about this book, it is only that it ended too soon.  Mr. Beck ends it by letting us know that the Menominee people survived the onslaught of siege after siege by the European invaders on their land.  That was his point from beginning to end.  Menominee people were smart, and learned, and fought (legally even!) and stood their ground and even though they lost a lot, and a great many lost their lives, in the end they survive today.  Even with an end like that, I wanted the book to continue.  I wanted to know more about the people and their lives, especially more of this history working forward through the years. 

More:  (the 3 documents below are in PDF format)

Final Essay (what you just read above) and notes from the reading.

Timeline for the monograph

History in a Box – Exterior

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The Chewing Machine named Beau


He’s not this small anymore… he’s probably a 40 lb dog.

My puppy, Beau, is now entirely too big to sleep in bed with me. He likes to lay on my legs and he’s just too heavy. I am not a big believer in buying a dog a bed. BUT, I did. I can NOT believe what I paid for it either! It’s even orthopedic…. shows a drawing of a dog laying on his bed with a straight back bone. I also bought him a kong and filled it with peanut butter. I’d just about do anything at this point to keep my shoes and other necessities of life safe from this chewing machine. He was excited about the kong for about 5 seconds. It’s out in the backyard just laying there…. he is taking his afternoon siesta….on the floor, right next to his new bed. The kitten says that SHE will use his nice expensive bed. You know it seems to me, that puppies, kitties, and kids all teach you the same things…. firstly, PATIENCE. secondly, PATIENCE and thirdly, PA….. ya…. lol

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It is News to Me!

Russia is not unique, but it is one of the few countries in the world with a negative population growth. America’s population is growing, but statistically it’s because there is still a healthy migration pattern in from other places in the world. I was surprised to see that Russia had less than half of the USA’s population. It made wonder just how big of a threat they are to our society after all. One thing that is not unique at all about America or Russia is that most of their populations are urban. People are looking for work and a better life in cities. Which I think probably translate into something I had already heard: less and less people are going more and more of the worlds food. I think that might be dangerous.

According to the Population Reference Bureau growth in the United States is slowing down. This is what they say causes the declining rates: “The decline in U.S. population growth is likely due to a confluence of factors: lower levels of immigration, population aging, and declining fertility rates.” William Frey of The Brookings Institute in December 2018 attributed the decline in that years population estimates was due to “the great recession” along with an aging population. An aging population is nothing unique in this world. Our country like most of the rest of the world is on a downward trend in terms of its population growth. Mr. Frey also pointed out that the population growth we do have is mostly via immigration.

One thing interesting about the United States population that it is in a minus child population growth. Of the 50 states, 29 of the states had negative child population growth numbers. Where the world in general has hit a point of stabilization, America is declining, and what is keeping the numbers going at all in the states that are showing an increase is the children mostly being born to immigrants. (News to me!) It is interesting to me that the melting pot of the world needs to continue to be the melting pot, and that their absolutely an argument that supports not only allowing migrants into our country but to treat them (as we should be anyhow) with respect because it looks to me like they are going to keep this country going in a lot of ways.

Knowing that we have a President (choke) that screams about the illegal immigrant numbers and a husband who complains of the same, I visited the Pew Institute website. I discovered that most immigrants are by far mostly legal. A whooping 3.2 percent were/are illegal and that boils down to about 10 million people compared to a total population in America of 329 million (give or take).

Wow… Politics just really makes me want to scream. Talk about fake new! Immigrants are the least of America’s problem.

United States Population. (2019-10-18). Retrieved 2019-10-23, from

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Ethnic Cleansing, etc…

12 October 2019

Impeach Pelosi?? Really? Its a deflection…. she is not guilty of holding tax payers money approved by congress from being delivered to the Ukraine to help them in their military goal of staying independent from Russia…. We hate communism right?? How come it’s OK to not support Ukraine if we hate communism?? You know, if you want to impeach Pelosi, who, by the way can’t be impeached (there is no law nor process in place for that??) But, if you want to throw the book at her, then find something she did wrong and charge her with the crime, take her trial and throw her in jail. There are processes in this country that we USUALLY follow when it comes to these sorts of things. People are having knee jerk reactions and falling for crap arguments from Trump and his cronies. What, really, are you thinking??

I am watching the news. I just saw what caused one of the fires in Southern California. A waste truck, had something smoldering in the cargo compartment, maybe whatever it was, was burning. The driver choose to pull over and just dump the load along side the road right next to a very dry grass field. I have worked for Waste Management. And while there is no love lost between us, I can say either the company that driver worked for was either an idiot (probably) or the company failed to have procedures and practices in place about what to do when a drivers comes across this issue. The drivers whose routes that I audited, had fire extinguishers in their trucks. This was in the very dry counties of Sonoma/Mendocino in California. That driver should be fired at the very least. His actions might even have been criminal. I don’t know, but wow….really???? I’ll be interested in seeing what the investigators come up with on this one. Especially considering one human life has been lost, so far. Can’t put a value on that.

While I am busy complaining about things going on in the world. I am frustrated with Turkey who used to be our countries ally. I’m not quite sure they should ever have been. They have been trying to get rid of the Kurds for years and years and years. These people as far as I can tell, the Kurds, are just regular people trying to eek out a living in a desert. Most are not rich—they are just regular folks, not terrorists. Not only that their people have helped us fight ISIS who is a terrorist group. So, go ahead and toss out the argument that they are terrorists. Far as I can tell that is a flat out lie. But, tell me how is it logical that you bomb and destroy the Kurd homeland to clear it out of ‘terrorists” only to plant more Kurds (immigrants in Turkey) there? The logic simply is not there… not historically, not legally, not morally, not ethically, not in any way does the logic work with what they are doing. What Trump is allowing right now is called Ethnic Cleansing. Let’s just call it what it is. And we the country who have taken upon ourselves for generations to take the side of the underdogs of the world, and to try and stop ethnic cleansing have decided to look away. (AGAIN)… because the “… the asshole is getting stuff done….” (and yes, that logic follows, because that asshole gave the command to pull out the troops that was preventing this from happening.) Trump has broken the word of the American People, the promise that our country made to a people, called the Kurds. When I look at this way, I take this pretty dang personal. Just saying…

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Non Sequitur, Trump Tool #1

Interviewer (Scherer): Mitch McConnell has said he’d rather you stop tweeting, that he sees it as a distraction.
Interviewee (Trump): Mitch will speak for himself. Mitch is a wonderful man. Mitch should speak for himself.
This exchange happened in 2017, between Trump and Time Magazine reporter Micheal Scherer
No Fallacies Allowed

I made this graphic, please don’t steal it! Just ask, give a credit, send me a couple bucks.

This is an example of is a fallacy of a logical argument, and it’s type is called, “Non Sequitur.” In plain English, Trump did not answer the question at all. And what he did say did not follow any logic that the interviewer said and wasn’t even logical within his own statement.

Trump is a master of fallacy. Over and over again he plays with words, images — and they all boil down to message. I’m the one, I’m the only one.. I can do it, fix it, live it –whatever. You don’t have to think, because I will do it for you. You know, when my ex husband told me I was his empty headed play thing, I put up with it. I was young and dumb. But, I won’t put up with someone who is supposed to show the highest of character in acting as our President, no, I won’t put up with anymore fallacy. The American people have not been so dumbed down that they can not think for themselves if they just give it a go, and really— REALLY examine what is said. So, that is fallacy #1. Another one tomorrow.
Posted in Announcements, Fallacies, Political Crap | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Think your F*ed Up??

Circulating on Facebook. I just roared when I read this.  First just let me say…. you know the song, “All my Ex’s live in Texas”  well, as far as I know that is where he is.  LOL 

My ex has been married at least three times now, and my guess is that he’s working on a forth. I heard through the grapevine that his 3rd divorced him. I knew she would as soon as her kids were grown. Something told me that she was in it for the money and cushion.  To make her kid’s life better.  I’m sure she’d deny it, and frankly, I don’t care. 

It seems he can’t stand to live alone, as he lines up women very quickly. He was introduced to the third wife, before he left his second wives property even.  Within a month of me leaving him, he’d met his 2nd wife and given her an engagement ring (Pretty sure that was the timing, could be remembering wrong)

When I left him, I attributed me staying with him to young/dumb — sometimes blonde. But, what amazes me are those who follow… I was the first wife, barely out of high school, and no experience in the world or with boys. He was literally my first everything. How do these older women fall for this guy. I look back now, and I think, ‘gosh he was such a creep.”

I mean why call me after we are separated and he has a new girlfriend (who turned out to be 2nd wife) and tell me that she MADE him respect her and would not let him perform oral sex on her until they were married.  Excuse me??  We had no oral sex until we were married, and then you forced it on me,  you, SOB.  The lack of respect was not because there was lack enforcement on my part.  I said NO, and that should have been enough.  We were in someone elses house, and I did not want to make scene, therefore my silence.  But, you could have introduced me to that much more slowly, and in a much more loving way.  

Yes, there are times when I don’t have to dig too far for that anger.   This particular episode happened within days of being married, so just say summer 1980.   I didn’t need to know about his and his new girlfriends sex life.  He was simply calling to rub it in, and try and hurt me.  Which it did not.  At the time, the reaction was, “why did he call me to tell me that?”  There were times when I just wasn’t that bright. 

So, ya in 1980 he was a creep.  In 1996, he was still a creep.  I heard his 3rd wife divorced him 2 or 3 years ago–say 2015, so even then he’s probably still a creep.  
Imagine that….the more things change, the more things stay the same.  Think about that!

Posted in Just Jabber, Memories, Mental Illnesses, Personal, Sexual Assault, Uncategorized, Womens Rights | Leave a comment

PTSD and me (through the years…) Part I

The always on guard part…when it starts from your childhood, and as an adult you have no clue what you are protecting yourself from. In a place like church, when I first started…. I’d sit through it all, and run out as fast as I could to get away from anything that could turn adverse when the service was over. It took a long time for me to settle in there, literally years of checking over and over again to see if I was going to be safe, or was someone going to, in some form, push me around.

I could not go into a bank for years without massive amounts of tears – don’t ask me about the relationship, I have no clue. The theory is that it was a self-esteem issue. I still stay away from them.  Online banking is a God send.  This part of the PTSD came after I’d married my first husband.  And it was in full effect by 1984ish.   I went into the local community bank in New Richmond, Ohio.  The teller went to school with my then husband.  She was in shock that he could find anyone to marry him.  He was just really a bad person.  The first clue from the outside world,  that something was really wrong.  My inside world really already knew.  From that day on, if it was the trigger or not, I could not go into a bank again for years and years.  It was flat out traumatizing to even try. 

It was around this same time period that I started having major issues when trying to drop off resume’s.  Oh the tears…  pure hell to even think about pulling the door open.  Weeping uncontrollably by the time I got there.  Again, I am fairly sure that was mostly self-esteem issues– but the fear of people at that point, the idea of watching my back, it was just flat out overwhelming. 

In a public place you put your back against the wall (Purposely) and in a corner so you can watch everything happening. The door and it’s use by EVERY person coming and going. And it doesn’t stop automatically, it goes on for literally YEARS until you know what it is, and have a talk with yourself (well, actually a lot of talks, over and over again), and you can begin to make yourself feel safe. I had realized I was doing this way before I met Clyde. I had no idea what meant. I’d been on the defense my entire life, always looking over my shoulder.  Even in high school, I tried to dress as a tough thug type (though, I am today 100% positive no one knew it but me) in dark clothes and a dark wind breaker. This was an attempt to scare (bad, questionable) people away or at least keep them at a safe distance.

Clyde is what changed this for me. Partly cause he puts himself literally in the corner, but not for the same reasons I did. And the fact that he took the corners from me, has forced me to deal with my fear.  I rely on him now for the most part to watch my back in public places.  He knows it. Partly because he knows my issues and he knows that I feel safe with him. In some ways I feel like I have a protective shield around me when I am near him. I know I don’t though. LOL.

Starting a business after say, 1996.  A computer consulting business, where to be perfectly honest, I should at this point be rolling in money.  I am not.  What was my limitation?  My limitation is that I did not feel safe in the world.  In order to keep myself safe no matter where I went, I only went to home/businesses that had received a recommendation from someone I knew.  This way I was relatively safe. I refused to advertise the business, because then I’d come in contact with strangers…. I was constantly “guarding myself.”

I have complex PTSD.  All that means in plain English is that I have been traumatized more than once.  I was victimized by my father.  That was and is evident.  Then I was traumatized by my ex husband.  And then there were smaller ones that made life difficult for awhile:  The Loma Preita Earthquake, a neighbor from hell (Stalking, etc.).  Life has been rough on the one hand, but I am sure that genetics play into this on the other. 

Still, the saddest part of this for me, is that no one ever saw it. No one ever realized. I never got the help that I needed until I was well into my 40s. Because for one thing I had to KNOW it was a problem and express it before anyone could help me. But, part of it, I think, is because people who should have seen were not paying attention. Add to it, that it’s minimized to this day by some. You realize something about yourself. You want to talk about it. No one wants to hear it except the therapist. And I will tell you, there are times when a therapist doesn’t work anything close to what a mom, dad, sister, or brother, or even a best friend would. Think about that!

Posted in Children, Children's Rights, Culture, Depression, History, Lifestyle, Mental Illnesses, PTSD | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

201 Intro to Western World Geography

OH, UGH!!!


Intro to Western Geography. Not Western as in land masses so much as Western Ideology. Lecture names Trump and talks about his speech over in Poland and how he says the West must decide if it wants to survive. He sees the Western world as picked on and threatened. Next comes an essay question –what is the definition of the

Mr. Mime

Shiny Mr. Mime visits our local convenience store (c) 2019 Peggy A Rowe-Snyder

How did it get that way, and why, etc, etc. My definition has turned into a “I hate Trump” monologue. Teacher asked for it as far as I am concerned. Read it to Clyde & he says I’ll get an A. But, consider a lot of the original west was built on Eastern ideas and principles. The modern west is defined mostly by America at this point. America is the leader of the West. America defines west mostly by it’s own idea of what the west was as our borders expanded from the Atlantic to the Pacific. What America’s western world was basically virile, male, and white. America and the west is not under threat. Or at least let me say that the threat out there could probably be snuffed out here and now if America wanted to play bully. Mr. Trump portrays a myth… he is a symptom. It is the ELITE white male who feels threatened and he has passed his fears on to the uneducated masses. People who work hard for a living and yet can’t get a head because of economy sucking leeches like Trump who files bankruptcy in multiplicity. I have a lot to say, but I have no interest in saying it. I don’t want to feel it, and I don’t want to read it. My opinion is there, I won’t grow another or even begin to think through any other point of view because I truly believe I am correct in the way I see this. I sure the heck wish Trump had not been brought into the lesson. I could have done without all this emotion. I am so invested in this, and I could NOT begin to tell anyone WHY! (copied and pasted from Facebook)

My answer to the professors question and to the lesson — Does the west have an identity. 

Since Mr. Trump (not my President) came up in this lesson I have to say that from what I’ve seen Americans have an arrogant perception that America is the west and the west’s identity is America. America is white and other colors need not apply. If I sound somewhat angry it is perhaps, because I am.

I would love to say that each individual person defines the identity of the west, and that the identity really does lie within the eyes of the beholder. Well, I do believe this to a point. But, for each person to take into account where he or she lives, and the local culture and social norms, each must live within a system with an ever-evolving “Western culture” where the funny part is that we are learning the ideas from the east all the time! (think Marie Kondo, the decluttering lady)

Here in the United States it may even be more so because of the fluidity of the language and the vast melding of cultures, and norms. If the theory that today’s liberalism is nothing more than an extension of the Enlightenment where humanity came to the conclusion that t all men are created equal (originally, all except the black, red, yellow, and brown ones) with rights to liberty, and pursuit of happiness, then one can argue that education is key to a healthy society for that is where people learn the norms. And in terms of modern times, for those to have liberty regardless of their culture, people in other cultures must be open minded enough to accept their neighbors lifestyle and cultural idiosyncrasies. In this way, the west should become a world wide melting pot. But this is in an ideal world.

Today in the United States we are in the process of finally beginning to truly integrate culture and social norms into our national identity. And what is a National identity? In our case it is tightly fitted to the idea of the west, because we’ve had many wests over the years as the country expanded from the Atlantic to the Pacific. The American west is free, wild, full of opportunity, growing, accepting, full of gold and overwhelmingly virile white male. (and, some of that is a myth) Top that with the fact that today, North America is one of the largest land areas in the world , defined as the west, and considering we, Americans, are the ‘leaders’ of the Western world it stands to reason that American’s pretty much define what is the west and its identity today.

The stereotypical western identity from an American’s point of view: American, White, hardworking, capitalistic (NO socialism allowed, and yet, they are apples & oranges), Christian, picked on, underappreciated, abused, minority, and male. And probably from the rest of the world’s vantage point, we as a nation could not be anymore wrong.

It is the expressions of today, the words that Mr. Trump spoke about the threatened and torn west who must decide if it wants to survive is nothing more than a myth. He and his theory are the symptom. An angry white ELITE male feeling some loss of control, who happens to be positive he is right and sorry for none of it.

And I have to say, from MY vantage point, its time for a new definition, because the fake news Mr. Trump spouts couldn’t be more wrong.

And now that I have written this, I read this: and discovered, that I am probably a product of the newest or at least the American definition of what the west is.

Posted in Culture, General News, History, Just Jabber, Personal, Political Crap, Womens Rights | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Done (again…)


My new kitten, Lucy

This is Little Lucy Lou my new kitty. She is about seven weeks old in this photo taken on August 1, 2019. Lucy is a Tortoise Shell type kitty with the tabby markings to boot. Her stripes slowly turn into spots as they move to her underside. Her markings are not unheard of, but on the other hand, she’s not in the majority of the different types of kitties. She’s a sweetie.

I have to say, this is probably the one time I’ll actually cry when saying good bye to a therapist.   I fight trusting people.  Trust is hard for me to give.  So many people I should have been able to trust for love and support have hurt me.  I am talking in terms of childhood.  But, that ability to trust damaged so many years ago, still exists.  It’s further away, not quite so powerful.  But, still there is always a typical cycle I go through when I meet anyone, and a therapist must wait through an even longer ‘cycle’.  

I sit back and I participate to the best of my ability, but I do not give trust.  I can talk about ANYTHING with ANYONE, but that does not mean that I feel particularly close to you, nor does it mean I trust you.  It just means that I am an open book and there isn’t much if anything anyone can use against me in terms of ‘secrets’.    

Having said that, there are details to some situations that I have never told a single person.  This is not because I distrust, or that I am hiding anything.  It is simply that the details are so disgustingly abusive in nature that I would not put another person through the details unless they were specifically warned first.  I’ve just never gone there. 

So, should I decide I trust you, and don’t ask me when that moment comes and how I know.  It is a very gradual process, and at some point, I realize I do trust, and I realize how free I feel.  In my mind, that is truly a day to celebrate.  There are few in my life that I truly trust.  And so, I begin to let the wall that protects me come done…not all at once but in tiny bits and pieces.  Still testing who you are and if I can trust.  

It has taken a long, long time.  I’m not sure anymore how long I’ve been seeing this particular therapist.  Five–six years maybe??  It’s been one of my longest if not the longest therapeutic relationships I’ve had. 

She’s been patient as I learn to trust.  I know, it’s her job.  She lets me take side trips into topics that I love: science, history, culture, physics, astronomy.  She gets excited about the same things I do.  Last session I found out that her minor was in Physics.  My reaction was “wow, I want to pick your brain.” I realized some couple of years ago that she and I would be great friends in the outside world.  

First I mentioned it to Clyde who encouraged me to ‘friend’ her in the real world.  I told him how that would be professionally unethical on her part.  She can not ethically be my friend.  Which I feel is really sad.  When people know where the boundaries are and respect them, which is something we’d both do, then there is no reason two real people can’t be friends.  

That said, as part of a conversation, I let her know that I’d love to have her for a friend, but acknowledged that I understand that there are ethics involved.  And this little discussion happened before I was aware of what I am now aware of.  

During my last session my therapist let me know that she was giving her 2 weeks notices so to speak.  I think I have one more session with her this week.  

This lady has been patient with me.  She’s told me when I was wrong, or unhealthy.
She’s encouraged me when I was right, or healthy.  She’s given me hope when I felt all was lost.  She’s reminded me to never say never.  

She has left me with a choice.  She can refer me to another therapist.  Or I can walk away and see how it goes handling life on 100% on my own.  I have a tendency to do alright doing just that until someone decides to be manipulative.  I still have issues  dealing with that.  My kids are particularly hard for me to deal with that way.  I want to love unconditionally.  But, that is impossible once I realize I’ve been manipulated.  And so a war starts in my mind, and I am so hard on myself as I look the other way while they play me like a fiddle.    And the sad part of it, is that all four of them do it.  

My therapist believes I am in a great place and that I don’t need therapy right now.  She thinks I’ll be just fine.  My gut reaction to the situation is that is exactly what I will do.  Have her not refer me, but make a note in my file that some things still have not been fixed (or addressed sufficiently for me) but that I am sure willing to at the very least take a break and see how it goes.   I do believe after all these years that the ‘picking’ habit will never be broken.  It is ingrained and when I am under the worst of stress (that I can handle at least)–it is a go to behavior.  Mostly it happens in my sleep, it’s not like I have any control.  I had stopped for a long, long time.  But, it started back up, especially bad after my son got out of prison.  

I think I am easily triggered.  I am 100% that I have genetics that predispose me to PTSD.  Having said that conflict with those around me, kids, and significant others, serious conflicts lead to picking.  My significant other can not stand to see the kids manipulate me.  He can not leave it alone and let me figure it out and deal with it.  He tries but, it’s pretty much impossible for him.  Over the long haul I am usually pressured to act.  He has no idea how he makes me feel.  But, he makes me feel like I have to ‘choose’.   For the most part the reality is, he’s correct.  But, knowing how I am being treated does not mean that I do not love my kids.  And so I feel torn to pieces while trying to love both at the same time.  The only cure we’ve found is distance.    

The bottom line is that he is tired of supporting manipulative kids.  Lazy kids.  Kids that don’t pull their own weight, nor try.  Kids who fail to see that they could be helpful and  actually participate in and be a healthy piece of the family.  There is no help with housework.  If they see something on the floor for example, that needs picked up.  For the most part the item lays there. 

I do the dishes for everyone.  There is no dishwasher.  One of the things that hurt me most (and this happened quite some time ago) is when my oldest who did not in general help with housework in anyway, found a new guy, came over to visit and decided to cook.  Found a pot which was ‘too’ dirty to use.  She washed it with a loud and clear judgement.  The hurt comes when the kid didn’t help while here, and lived in the worst pig sty I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some bad stuff, so bad as a matter of fact, that I turned two people in to the police because they had kids living in the mess.   I needed glasses at the time, I was having trouble seeing tiny things.  She should have kept her opinion to herself.  The kids don’t realize, and I am unsure if they even care, how much they hurt me sometimes. 

The list goes on and on.  The bottom line to all this is that as a mother, I am done.  Soon, my youngest will be moved out (again), this time I asked her to go.  I told her it was time for  me to throw her out of the nest, which is true.    And she has been informed that if she needs to come back, it will be under the same circumstances that her brother left in.  She’ll need to arrange for a trailer, save money to have it moved here with, and live in the trailer.  Should this happen, she must plan to pay rent because we can not afford to subsidize her or any other kid for that matter. 

Having her moved out will put distance between myself and all my children.  For the most part a very healthy distance.  One of them living a couple hour drive away has been particularly helpful to my mental health.  I don’t think I could have dreamed of going back to school if he were still living here. 

Once my youngest is gone, I have no idea if I will have that empty nest syndrome that is spoken about.  I’ve thought about it, and I enjoy life far too much to think that will be a bother for me.  But, I can see on the quiet days where I might just be a little bit sad and that I won’t have that beloved therapist to fall back on with those sad feelings.  

I am going to miss her.  I’m 1000% positive that I will cry over a therapist for the first time.  Probably for the first time, I actually got ‘attached’ to a therapist. Which is the goal for some types of therapy.  I trusted..and while, this eventually had to happen.  I trusted and the person I trusted, left again.  It is a proper part of this particular cycle.  

I send many positive thoughts, and wishes of good luck.  Warm fuzzies, as many hugs as she can handle,  Mostly, I want to send appreciation and thankfulness for all this lady did for me.  

Indeed, I will miss her…and I will cry. 

In life, I will continue on…. after all, I’m a Beaver girl now!

Xan — xoxo

Go Beaver's (Decal--Beaver head on a Oregon shaped background). Oregon State University, Corvallis, Oregon.

Go Beavs!



Posted in Children, General News, Health, Mental Illnesses, Uncategorized, Womens Rights | Tagged , , | Leave a comment


Clyde Leon Snyder in 2004

You are my love, and my light…
the greatest adventure
who sits right next to me.
My conscious, my friend, 
my supporter, my clown.
You, my dear, are
My everything….

The man who walked 12 miles.
Through two feet of snow,
with with a literal broken heart
He risked his own life
Get anyone to rescue me. 

Yes, Oh Yes….
Let’s run away, today.
For I want
and I will remarry thee. 

ho ho ho — it’s done!


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In this case, it is, all about Me.

Peggy Ann Rowe-Snyder

Alvin C. Rowe

note: the person I am directing this to, knows exactly who she is.

I do not sit in a public office, nor am I running for any public office; therefore, I have the right say this: anything I say on my Facebook page is really not up for debate. I am entitled to my opinions, and I can express my truth and I am allowed to do so with the freedom of knowledge that I am safe and protected. 
I absolutely use my page to educate….I absolutely use it for a bully pulpit or soap box. There is too much MISinformation about what abused children go through. What they live through and the consequences are disheartening for anyone who bothers to really, really look. I absolutely use my page to send thoughts out to the universe and to ANYONE who will listen about *my* experiences because they might just help some mom who was in the same spot I was in. It is tough to stand up to family. It is really, really HARD to drag yourself out of denial. As a matter of fact, some people utterly fail to ever let go of their denial of the truth. There is a lot of evidence of that in my very own family.

I’ve been there, and done that, and still bounce back and forth. The pain in my life, will never stop. It might get duller, but it will NEVER go away. Due to what my step father did, due to what my mother did, I lost my daughter a long, long time ago. (also due to ex husband who took her and ran and hid for six years). That is the truth. *IF* I can help ONE person, ONE, then what I have been through is worth it. Therefore, just know, if you don’t like what I say, if you don’t agree, which is your right, the ‘unfriend’ button is in your upper right.

Have you ever noticed that I do not go onto your page and say anything about anything at all? I do that for a reason. I’m not out there running my mouth that way—hurting people, and I am letting them have their say in peace. Do I disagree with people? Sure, I do. But I have enough sense of boundaries to let people say what they wish, it’s called FREEDOM OF SPEECH.

Your mother, is a big, big girl and she is fully capable of taking care of herself, and you getting onto my page and announcing who you are and then saying how proud you are of being neutral and then asserting that there are two sides or more to every story, is a very underhanded way to tell my friends that I am NOT telling the truth.

Do you believe my friends are so stupid that they need you to tell them I am a liar?

I have friends who think that President Trump (yours not mine) is the best thing since peanut butter and jelly… and they say so often. I have friends that are so racist that they call the women in the “squad” ‘Blackheads’….and they think this is ok, and if they were not close to 90 years old and very, very fragile, I’d probably take them aside quietly and let them know how wrong they are. But, I do not go on their page and tell them they are wrong, nor do I preach on their page. For the most part I ignore their pages (and yours) because that way I am not tempted to post what I disagree with.

It is a matter of respect for them and their opinions. It is good boundaries. It allows me to stay friends with good people, who I often feel are quite confused.

You can have all the opinions you want about what I say. You do NOT have the right to express your opinions on *MY* Facebook page. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, if you don’t like what I say then by all means take me off your friends list. I will understand. But, don’t you dare ever again, very nicely tell me off or tell my friends in an underhanded way how wrong I am. I am not wrong!

I can have anyone for a friend that I want. And you have NOTHING to say about it. You should have never said a word about Joan being on my friends list. It’s NONE of your business. If you want to talk to me about YOUR MOTHER then let’s do it elsewhere. Because I’m done…. With this sticky sweet, back handed way of you saying, “you are wrong, Peggy” when I know damn good and well that I am not.

And I know I’m coming off strong and I’m doing it on purpose. You have upped the ante on things we disagree on for the last time. You are not going to say something ‘strong’ to me and get me to back down anymore. I’m tired of being bullied down by people and that includes by you.

And if you take the time to really think about it. And if you are capable of being truthful with yourself. Then you will realize that you do try to shut me down and you do try to get me to see things in a way that you deem proper and right. It will never happen, and no amount of debate is going to change that.

Mom doesn’t need you to run to her defense, and I’m sorry that is exactly what you were doing. Don’t do all these things and then bother to tell me to smile more. I am a person who HURTS, and the hurt is lifelong and lasting. And it is because I come from a sick and twisted family. That is my truth. And you MUST live with it. Even if you never speak to me again, I will still always hold that opinion and you will always know it.

So, let me voice my opinion as is my right. Let me do it without you trying to put me in a place where you want to control the spin—because when you do this, you show people who you really are. You don’t make me look any worse.

Basically, if you can’t say anything nice, and really mean it…. then don’t say it. Not on *MY* page. Because from now on, anything you say on my page, that I do not like, or I feel goes beyond appropriate boundaries (as defined by MY BOUNDARIES, NOT YOURS) I will delete.

Last note: It is not a “MISTAKE” when a man purposely runs over a dog on I-5 to get back a person he is angry with. That is sick, and it is called a sadistic act. Want to know the difference between your mother and father? He said he was sorry, but he never said what he was sorry for. So guess what? I get to fill in the blanks…

I’m sorry I scared you so bad when I purposely ran over the dog. That was wrong on so many levels.

I”m sorry I told you that you deserved to die and threatened you with that great big knife. (that was no mistake either)

I’m sorry I hit you so many times, being back handed by a big powerful man must have really hurt.

I’m sorry that I told you that you’d if you had any brains you’d take them out and play with them. I did not know how demeaning that was or how it would set you up for a dud of a marriage with a man just like me.

I’m sorry that I force fed you foods that you didn’t like. I should have never held you down, forced your mouth open, and crammed anything down your throat. The message I sent through those actions are horrible, and had I thought, I’d never done that to any child, let alone my own.

I’m sorry I sent dishes sailing over you and your sisters and your mother’s head. That them breaking against the wall upset you so bad. You and Pam were so little. I know that had to scare you really bad. I hope you remember that your mom was holding your hand. I can look back and see now that I had one hell of an anger issue. I know I passed some of that on to you. I know there were times when I really screwed up.

I’m sorry, Peggy, that I ever hurt you. As my child you deserved better than that. Please remember that I worked hard to provide for you, your sister and your mother. Please remember that I raised you in a way that I knew and was familiar with. When I was a kid, and we didn’t want a kitten we threw it in a gunny sack and tossed it in a river. Life was tough—so I had to get tougher. All I ever wanted was to make sure you knew how to take care of yourself. I can see now, that I went about in a not so quite right way.

Remember when I sang to you, your sister, and your mother…I really meant, “You are my sunshine.”

I remember when you did my hair. Your sister and you—you put a dozen barrettes in my hair. My hair went every which way…. I bet I made one good lookin’ woman. You girls sure had fun…you giggled and you giggled. I guess, daddy was pretty funny looking, huh?

I hope you remember being cuddled. We sat together often in my big ol’ recliner. Once you became big enough to be a real person, I wasn’t so afraid to hold you.

—————-   Thirty years later, and your mother is still incapable of “I’m sorry”

And yes, I usually talk to my kids like that.


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Copyright 2019, August 4, 2019- Peggy Ann Rowe-Snyder           

I have been a victim.

I have been a victim in many ways, many times —
I have been victimized and held helpless against my will

I have been tormented, maligned, …physically wounded.
Mentally, and emotionally  worn down.

           It started when I was tiny… and lasted throughout my childhood.
            My father hurt me in multiple ways.

He let me know once that I was too much like my mother, and that I deserved to die.  He had me open the glove compartment of his vehicle and there was the weapon of his justice.  A huge knife.

He used sadistic behaviors to keep us where he wanted us.  Killing a dog along the freeway that mom wanted to pick up and take to a shelter.  I lived in 100% fear (terrorized) by this ‘man’.

I watched him hit my mother over and over when I was very little.  I hung on his knee and begged him to stop.

Mom was proud that I loved him, but did not like him at all and could voice that.

But my mother allowed it to happen. 
She could have left him.
Maybe she was unaware that marriage has never been forever.
She kept up appearances
– worked hard to keep the household appearing normal. 
In all reality, no matter what transpired between those two
there was a perfect partnership of perpetrator and assistant.

A little later in life, not very much later, a neighborhood girl touched me. 
It was clearly inappropriate and I said, “NO”. 
As any other perpetrator would do, I was ignored and the behavior went on. 
For months or more. 
I learned to enjoy it, but I was filled with guilt and shame for almost the rest of my life. 
It remained our little secret for years and years to come…

            Because when I finally told someone, it was my (ex) husband, and his reaction was to ask me to sleep with his sister, and let him watch.

            I have been a victim….
            many, many times.

With broken teeth and bruised limbs and bruised pride
I SURVIVED that marriage.  
Through the torture of being kept up all hours so that I’d agree to what he wanted to living with the fact that I was not capable of thinking for myself nor for thinking of consequences, I spent nearly 16 years letting this boy/man think for me. 

For nearly 16 years, I heard that I was his,
“empty headed play thing.” 
I endured, in private places, the pain of physical objects: coke bottle, fists, homemade dildo’s, and more. 

            {Question: Will a dildo made using a SEMI-TRUCKS’ water hose (Thank you Black’s Tractor Trailer of Cincinnati, Ohio) as a mold using silicone (which contains ACID) hurt?  It was bright blue.  And yes, it hurts.} 

            Through tears I would answer his question: “Does it hurt?”  Thinking that I was OBLIGATED to perform my ‘wifely duty’, I conformed.  

“No, it does not hurt.”  And so, he had what he needed to persist.  And I slept walked through life; a whole lot of life…

            Alas, it all came full circle.  Another man abused my baby.
            For three to four years, he educated my child. 

            Aged  three or four to aged seven.
            I actually tried to kill him.  Though I never came close.
            I thought I might beat the crap out of him first.
            But he grabbed my arm as if I were a rag doll
            He looked at me like I was crazy.
            He had the nerve to ask me what I thought I was doing.

            In that humiliation I began my long climb
            up and out from having been a victim.
            He did time in jail.
            The judge remarked it was the most undercharged case he’d ever seen.

            That child molester died old, and alone.
            Nothing nice was said in his obituary.
            I could not celebrate a human’s death any more.

            I asked for and received a divorce.
            A first step away from being anyone’s “empty headed play thing.”

            But, it was not over yet.

            My mother who wallows in perfect appearances,
            and worries about if what her daughter does is legal…
            and surely voices her concerns as if she were really

            Tried to sue me for custody of my injured child.
            She made up lies for an order of protection, against me.
            She claimed I endangered my children.
            She told my sister that made up stories,
            and put them in my seven-year-old babies head.
            My sister and I did not speak for at least two years.
            We’ve never been able to speak of mom since…
            Because she cares about the bitch,
            And I have trouble allowing her the time of day.

My mother and my step-father worked together to get a
judgement of 1.4 million dollars thrown out.  
Money for my daughters future,
for therapy, for any need…..  today she has MS.
Through thick and thin, including one divorce, my mother
and my step-father were a perfect partnership of perpetrator and assistant.

            When family speaks of reconciliation,
            My mother lies and says she’s willing.
            But, her actions are louder than her words…
            And after nearly 30 years she finally admits,
            that I “betrayed” her. 

            After nearly 30 years her harassment and abuse persist.
            The myth she has created with help of ONE friend,
             and one well known child molester protector lawyer-
            Has quite a few people convinced.
            Of the very same thing that she screams,
            When it came to my step-father and my child,

            I’m sorry Bitch—my child, was the BIG victim.
            And you were wrong, she has NOT survived.
            NOT LIKE YOU DID.

            Wait, did you?  Survive that is?  How is your life?
            Is it everything you dreamt it might be?

            So, to this day, my mother screams toward me that
            I am a perpetrator of so many bad things… and yet.
            People who know me, really know me….
            would beg to differ. 
            They know what my mother says,
            Can never be.


            There have been abusive people
            during the in-between…
            Boyfriends and lovers…
            some who tried very hard to control me.

            Father of a child, who actually thought
            said child could be used
            to fence me in,
            and catering to his needs.

But, by this time,
I was coming
            into my own.
            You can try to beat me down.
            You can use words, your fists, and even the law.

The truth of the matter is that, you cannot hold me down.

I was a victim.

But a victim I am no more.


Posted in Children, Children's Rights, Culture, Estrangement, Just Jabber, Lifestyle, Mental Illnesses, Political Crap, Sexual Assault, Womens Rights | Leave a comment

The Mother of all Monkeys…

The Mother of all Monkeys and exactly where SHE belongs…down the shitter…

Overwhelmed. Feel just like I got a gut punch. An older friend of mine asked about my parents. And of course, dad is deceased, so that stops that discussion in its tracks. Mom and I do not speak. After going through this situation yet again, I have finally realized I can just tell people that mom is deceased too. She might as well be as far as I am concerned. But, when the friend is asking and I feel on the spot to answer a question politely and HONESTLY as I know how. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Peggy, why doesn’t your mother talk to you?” This is a friend that when called for a reference he told the person I was the most honest person he knew. That means a lot to me. I respect him. He was obviously confused….I can understand it. I’m a good person with a good head on my shoulders who believes in doing the right thing for the right reasons, and I’ll eat the consequences like corn flakes if I find out I’m wrong or made a mistake. No one, and I mean NO one says, “I’m sorry” like me…. my kids have heard it so often they are probably sick of it. So, I answer honestly, and then I am sick to my stomach because …’here we go again’. I am sick to death of so much of thinking about my mother and how “I betrayed her” even from my own mouth.

I betrayed absolutely NO one. It is flat out impossible to betray a betrayer. She announced herself before going upstairs each evening that my daughter was with my step father, so that he could stop the hurtful, illegal, disdainful behavior he was negotiating — WITH MY CHILD. She watched from around the office doorway and saw exactly what was going on. I did NOT put those ideas into my child’s head.. the truth was certainly ugly enough without my help. And no this is not a made up story this is my reality. And it NEVER goes away….even the most innocent of questions and statements can set me off. Example: “I’m so proud of you, Peggy, that you’ve held your head up and carried on.” Not an exact quote, but the ‘held your head up” part was original to the quote. Oh so happy was I when the encouragement was given. Only later did it hit me to question it. Why would I not hold my head up?? What did I ever do wrong??? The truth of the matter is that I did NOTHING wrong. I choose my child over my mother. That is what any good mother would do. My mother choose money over her grand daughter. That is NOT what any good grandmother would do. My sister and I have a friend in common who thinks we have two separate mothers.,,, this is how much different our worlds are. I do not have the umpf it takes to explain or even begin to correct. I have been utterly exhausted by this mess for nearly if not more than 30 years now. because it never goes away.

A family member comes to me and announces to me that my mother wants to make up, all I have to do is call her. How do I tell this family member who is just trying to help that if mom told her that, that its a lie…mom has no intention of ever making up because I ‘betrayed’ her. It is NOT a betrayal of a person to take care of your child with 100% of everything you have. It is IMPOSSIBLE to betray another when taking care of a seven year old who had been abused by a grown man for 3-4 years. I could go on and on and on and on…. this stuff makes me so sick. My guess is that my mother will out live me by years because this shit has made me so sick. I am tired. I am tired. the sickness has been passed on to my kids, and now I get to live with that. There are truly days when I’m not sure I really belong here anymore at all. Ok, I’ve had my say.

I signed a non – disclosure agreement in 1991 or so…. promising not to talk about this. But, I am so sick of the silence. I am sick of having to listen and not be able to say what is on my mind. I am sick to god, that I’m the one being told I am wrong when I am not. I signed the non-disclosure agreement because I was exhausted and scared. My mother took me to court and said I was a bad mother to my oldest child—not my son, only my oldest, and she sued for custody of my oldest. I was sick and tired then. I wanted it to stop And so I tried to drop the civil case against the HOMEOWNERS INSURANCE in order to make mom stop suing me. She required I sign the non-disclosure paper. That does NOT make me a looser, nor does it make me a betrayer. It made me exhausted. It wasn’t an admission of guilt, because I never was GUILTY of a damn thing.

My mother is the person who made me think that my step father was abusing my daughter. It was she who spoke the first truths. It was she who told me the story of how for WEEKS or maybe months my step father would stare over my daughters school photo while eating his oatmeal. That it was she who noticed and HID the photo from him multiple times…. He’d find the photo and the cycle started again. It was she who hid important evidence from the police that was used on my daughter including a pistol and a vibrator.

She has owed my child an apology for AT LEAST 27 years. And to make matters worse…. at that time, she was a LEGAL mandated reporter. And when I told her I called the police on my step father, she actually asked me, “WHY?” And yes this is public and yes, it’s going on my blog! This has just got to stop. I need out of this damn nightmare. I want the mother monkeys off my back!!!

Last and not least, at one time I had a $1.4 million dollar judgement in favor of my daughter and for my daughter’s future.  I sued the homeowners insurance not my mother.  She went into court with my step father and got the judge to toss the judgement.  $1.4 million dollars.  And she still turned around to sue me!!!!!  Today my daughter has MS and the ACES studies pretty much prove that MS can be caused by trauma.  And yet when she took that money from my daughter, she said in a letter to me that my daughter would “survive, just like she did.”  Heartless, I am telling you, the woman is heartless.  My daughter sure has survived, and been robbed over and over again by the people in her life that she should have been able to trust the most!

Note: Copied and pasted from my Facebook account.  

Note II:  At the time, I was told that my step father’s primary residence and means of transportation was protected from seizure by law enforcement or because/for any civil case.  My mother USED the fact that I was trying to “take away her home” as an excuse to legally bully and abuse me in order to control the information getting to law enforcement.  My mother is far from being an idiot. 

I have yesterday (8/4/2019) realized that she knew her home was protected from seizure if I were to collect on that 1.4 million judgement (the courts would take some personal property that might be worth something prior to hitting up the home owners insurance, or at least they could try.  As I learn more in life, what I see is that the insurance company would have been 100% on the hook for the money, after all that is what they were paid the premiums for).  So, my mother lied about me and harassed me (i.e. MALIGNED ME) for no reason other than to keep herself out of jail.

She succeeded in staying out of jail.  But, over the long haul, when family stories and myths are passed down, she will not win.  The generations ahead will know exactly who and what she was/is.  This story will be published in a black and white bound paper book.  It will be a story that lasts. 

Tis funny, my oldest daughter claims I called her a ‘monster’ and at any point in our disagreement did I do any such thing.  

When I look at this whole story, and when I see my mother, this is when I see a ‘monster’.   & I do have a habit of calling them as I see them, whatever that ‘them’ is.

artwork & ‘essay’ (i.e. editorial) copyright 2019, Peggy A Rowe-Snyder (the ‘monkey’ is a Pokemon Go critter that I took a photo with using my cell phone camera, so that piece art before I took it and changed it belonged to Niantic, & the Pokemon crew!)

Posted in Announcements, Cardiac Health, Children, Children's Rights, Estrangement, Health, History, Just Jabber, Memories, Mental Illnesses, Parent/Child Relationships, Personal, Political Crap, Sexual Assault, Womens Rights | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

The Price One Pays…when Caring Too Much…

     I have been caring for others in my life for nearly 50 years.  How does that work when one is only 57 years old.  Well, for one thing you give or in this case you take a few years but just a few.  The simple truth of the matter is that my 10th year of life was a game changer in every way.   But one of the biggest ways it changed things is that this is roughly the year that dad had his first heart attack, and my mother was ran over by a car and permanately disabled by it.   The consquences of these two happenings made it so that I became the chief cook and bottle washer in the home for a good while.  And while thinking about it today, I realized, I really never gave the title up, and still haven’t yet.  So what are the consquences of that??  Anger, Frustration,  deep down exhuastion, and the need for a very long vacation– the urge to run away from my reality–and never come back.  And yet the truth is from the age of 18 on, most of my ‘caring’ for others was of my own choosing and therefore a mess I made for myself.

     My dad had two heart attacks from the time I was roughly 10 to 15 years old.   During this same time period, one night before a bright Christmas Day (yes, Newark California has bright Christmas days) while my mother and her best friend were out shopping for christmas presents and standing in a Radio Shack store in Newark, a older woman racing for a parking spot accidently pushed down on the gas rather than the brake.  The car under the guidance of the floored fuel control, the older (all metal and heavy) Oldsmobile pushed over the curb and into the Radio Shack store.  The automobile plowed through the store somewhere around 30 feet, taking display cases and my mother and her best friend with them.  The only thing that stopped the car was a concrete support pillar.

       My mother was laid up for months if not years. The truth is, she’s been laid up for the rest of her life.  I do not know what she is or is not capable of at this point.  But, I know she’ll be in pain the rest of her life.  What I know was that the night we brought her home from the hospital (dad and we two girls) dad cooked that night, and then I cooked for quite some time.  And while I wasn’t allowed to ‘rule the roost’ with my younger sister, a LOT of household chores fell on me.  And what did not fall on me, I was never taught to do.  I left home not knowing how to operate a clothes washer or dryer for example.  I had no clue how often the sheets were changed (if ever).  Did mom ever scrub the tub?? I have NO clue.  I learned in my 20’s that a stove comes apart for cleaning.  But, I did cook, I did vaccum, I did to a degree watch over my sister, I did become the head back massager for my father, I was the chief dish washer….get the message? 

Previous to this my father had already had his first heart attack and had one of America’s earliest triple by pass surgeries (His surgeon? Look up Shumway).  I could not really take up his jobs for him, thank god.  I never was interested in concrete work.  But, us girls were recruited to help in his new foundation stake business.  Dad simply could not do all the work (this is based on my own experience with heart disease).  If his experience was anything like mine and I’m positive it was, then there was NO way with 1/3 of his heart dead load the dunnage onto his pick up and then unload it into the yard at home.  Nope, two girls aged, TEN and SEVEN did that, plus they pulled all the nails and screws out of the boards to boot.  And then we restacked the lumber nicely and neatly.   Dad ran the wood through his table saw and banded the stakes together into nice little bundles.  He then loaded the little bundles into the pick up and drove them over to the local lumber yard (who supplied the dunnage).  That was really hard physical work for little girls, and I can tell you, there’s never been a day since that I did not have a backache.  I’m pretty sure that permanant damage was done to my spine.  This worked continued for us until Dad left ‘us’ when I was around 15 years old.  

All this and I pulled pretty damn good grades at school too!!!

Combine school, housework, and the stake business and one wonders if I had a childhood.  Well, I did.  Not much of one really.  But, there were some fun times.  Fishing trips, roller skating beside the house, baseball games (Go A’s), a pony named Pickles, Barbie dolls, and Monopoly and that’s just a start.  It was not all work, but it was enough work that at one point, I was ready to go on strike.  It was partly because the work was hard, and partly because all that wood and nails were messing with my fingernails and I for one, was ready to be a real girl!!!  I can tell you now, without embarassment, that I did not get much sympathy.  

I met my first husband when I was almost 16, so yes, technically, I was still 15.  I made a promise to him within months that I would marry him.  And because a promise was a scared thing, I kept it.  Even after he’d gone back home to Ohio and we’d spent nearly two years apart, and when my plane touched down at the Cincinnati airport, and I got off the plane looking for the young man, I came to a stunning revelation. I no longer recognized him.  I was unable to pick him out of a crowd.  He picked me out of the crowd.  

I was in essence running away from home.  When my mother found out she protested LOUDLY.  Which made me want to leave all the more.  Had she protested in a move loving way, there is a good chance I’d never left, but that is neither here nor there at this point. The fact is that I left, and once I got there, I didn’t recognize the boy that I promised to marry.  And I did, marry him that is.  

I spent 15 legal years with that boy/man.  Nearly enough months to make 16 years.  Kind of like my age when I met him.  And I will tell you, he was so frickin lazy when it came up to getting out of bed in the mornings and getting ready for work, and I was so worried about him getting to work on time, that I literally put his socks on for him while he laid there in bed.  And I started his pants for him.  He need only stand up and pull up (onesies?)   The young man either could not or refused to cook or clean.  Of course, I was used to doing the work, so I just kept up what I knew and never expected much out of him.  And he never gave much either.  His work ethic was atrious.  While I worked nearly 60 hours per week, and then came home and cooked and cleaned, and gave him (what for me was hurtful and sickening) sex.  He worked his 20 to 40 hour week, came home and went back out and played Dragons and Dungeons, and smoked weed, fucked the neighbor girls, and got into trouble in general.  

This went on in general until we were aged 23 (him) and 22 (me) when after I’d had my first child.  I wanted the drug scenes to stop.   I wanted to not be lonely at night while he was out partying with his friends.  I wanted him to get a steady job (he’d lost the job he had in Cincinnati, I don’t remember why).  I wanted him to have a GED so that his daughter would be proud of him.  If he could not conform to those ‘demands’, I was ready to put feet to pavement and leave.  Since I did not have a drivers license that’s exactly what I had to do.  Nevermind that we lived out in the middle of nowhere in Clermont County, Ohio.  It was during this time that he admitted he did not want me to have a drivers license because he was afraid I’d leave.  It was during this time I lost my temper for the first time.  One of his friends came by and wanted my ex to get drunk with him.  I said NO because I had bought and paid for the home, and I was the one who would be cleaning up the puke.  The ‘friend’ had the nerve to say, “…IF she were my wife, she’d be out the door.”  To which I answered, “I’m not your wife, and you are out the door.”  He came back another day looking for us to charge a bunch of stuff.  It was credit cards after all.  It didn’t take any money.  The kid had no concept of paying the bills.  And my husband was so grown up, he really had no issues with the kid.  I was the trouble maker in the situation.

I stood up for myself in someways.  But, I utterly failed to stand up for myself in others.  I’d heard my father say that my mother’s car wreck (the one mentioned above) made it so that she could not ‘perform her wifely duties.’ I did not know yet, what wifely duties were.   But,  knew that I was told not to repeat the words, and I knew that my dad waited until he was alone with my uncle (except me) to tell the ‘secret’ and I KNOW now, that the empathsis clearly made ‘wifely duties’ a big deal in a marriage.  Therefore, even had I known that I had a right to say NO to my husband, when it came to sex of any kind, I did not.  Not when it was abusive, not when it was extremely painful (I found out later) because he’d brought home an STD to me, not once but twice.   I did not say no or stop even if it was painful from the fact that a foreign object (as in a glass coke bottle, and other things) was stuck up there for HIS pleasure.  

My childhood, and the way I was taught to work and submit (when I fought it, i.e. go on strike) taught me to grin and bear it all —- and I did not leave it until I was 32 years old, nearly 33.  

After I left him, the name of the game became survival.  I was now a single mother.  I could not even pay the rent with the money I made at first.  I literally signed my paychecks over to the daycare sitter which meant I could not pay my rent.  In order to find a remedy, I ended up going on public assistance (which believe me, I hated), and went to college for three years.  After recieving a certificate and an AS, I began my own business, and worked up to three part time jobs at a time.  With the help from the state in the form of health insurance and food stamps, I barely made the rent in Sonoma County, California.  I spent 8 years during this time with a ‘boyfriend’ –an abusive one.  The relationship was mostly off.  But, it took me nearly the whole time to actually get him out of my door after he moved in without my permission.  And during this time, I finished school, and began my business, and worked my ass off, while he continued school.  And after HIS baby arrived, he had me know that I was to stay home and care for the baby (girl) while he continued in school because that was HIS JOB and he’d bring in the money.  Ho ho ho, ha ha ha.  That went over with a HUGE thud.  I was slowly finding my voice and my power.  Eventually, after many a fight, and after finally reaching the point of hate and resentment, I tricked him out of my home and never looked back.  (He was asked to leave many, many times, and he flat out refused).  There was NO passive agressiveness from me when I was asking/telling him to get out and then actually locking him out, etc. etc. etc.

After getting rid of him, it was a short time later, that I met my current husband.  I told him to not get attached because he’d be  a rebound, and I was not in business to hurt people.  But, we both got attached.  I have KNOWN since day ONE, that my current husband has inherited heart issues.  He has worked as hard as I have and probably more so, because he has let me not work or work as I please.  Any money I make is basically my spending money.  But, when it comes to working in the home and caring for others — nothing has changed.  I am at age 57 still chief cook and bottle washer.  

And I say this -as my 28 year old son and 20 year old daughter sit here waiting for me to finish making pasta salad like a couple of vultures, neither of them lifting a hand to help, and that is with them knowing at this point, that I have heart health issues too.  

I mean how many times should a kid have to hear that their mother’s heart is still weak and she can’t do everything she did before—before you offer to actually help around the house???  Rarely do these two adult CHILDREN do their own laundry, let alone a dish. Flat out forget about anything else.  

My husband has a significant portion of his heart dead now.   My 20 year old came to me the other day and asked if he were a ticking time bomb.  My answer was, “he’s always been a ticking time bomb.”  And yet, she still does not offer to help with yard work or anything else actually.   Both kids still at home, do as they please, when they please. 

I do the cooking (the full meals) and I clean my house.  I clean the toilet.  I wash the sinks.  I do 99% of the laundry.  I mow the grass.  I sweep. I vacuum.  I wash the walls.
I feed and bathe the dogs (except the hubby’s of course).  I trim the bushes.  I pick up the garbage.  I take the garbage out.  I pick up the dog shit until I get tired of it and tell her (owner of one of the now three dogs to help) Do you get the picture…..  ??

So, where does that leave me?  Well, for one angry.  I am angry that I set such a good work eithic example for my kids and this is what I get back in return.  I feel used at this point.  Even though they say ‘thank you’ for the pasta salad.  Of course, it did not help that my youngest pointed out that  I said, I’d make pasta salad today.  I did not need reminded, and because of the circumstances I highly resented being reminded.  

I have kids who don’t think twice about lying and then have the gaul to call me a liar.  But, looking at the whole picture, what they all have turned out to be are people who live in their own realities—one’s that do not jive in the least with real life.  

Where does a 20 year old get off, thinking that she can move out at 18 years old (because she did NOT want to clean up her space and I was forcing it, because it was MY house) and then move back in at 20 and expect to be fed, watered, cared for, and 100% supported.  The girl had a job making more money than I ever have (except a few computer jobs where I had clients wealthy enough to actually pay what I was worth).  When asked when she was going to get a job, she informed us she was going to take a much needed break first.  The truth is, it looks like, she has no intention of looking for a job.  So, yes, my husband and I both feel very, very used. 

It looks like that as much trouble as my son has gotten into that he perhaps is the  healthiest of them all (emotionally).  At least he’s saying thank you, and he’s beginning to do his own wash, and is trying to learn what is right.    What I get from the youngest is total disregard.  What I get from the  oldest is total silence — and no gratitude for anything, even the mistakes I made trying to do the right things.  

So, it leaves me angered, resentful, feeling used.  But, most of all, it’s  been a growing realization that this has been a  theme my whole adult life: I am tired.  At first I thought I was tired because I was so badly abused by first husband.  I’m sure that played into it.  But, what the real cause probably was the lack of voice that lived with, and the fact that I was caring for three people day in and day out, and that would be one adult besides myself, and two children.  

Even when I was sick, legitimately sick, he called me a hyperchondriac.  I recieved NO help whatsoever from the man.  Even back then, I was doing the dishes, mowing the grass, carrying the water from the cistern to the kitchen or bathroom in 5 gallon buckets (summer or winter in Clermont County, Ohio).  And no, I was not Wonder Woman and it wasn’t a ‘wonder I was a woman’ as my ex used to put it.  I was trained by life to do what was needed to be done to get through life, and for the longest part of my life, I knew no different, and because of ignorance had no recourse that I could see. 

When you have young people in a house hold that refuse to so much as try to help.  And my 20 year old has a sunburn right now, so she is 100% incapable of doing anything.  After all it hurts down to the bone.  I’ve had sunburns just as bad and worked right through them without complaint mind you.  Where is the effort?  Recently she was telling me how her boyfriends mother just cuts the bugs out of the apples she processes and uses them in her homemade foods anyhow.  So, I ask doesn’t it hurt her?  I have arthritis and have for a few years now.  I have quit processing buggy anything.  If I can’t simply peel it or better yet cook it with a peel it won’t be done.  My youngest informs me that the mother of the boyfriend must ignore her pain and work right through it.  You talk about one angry mother.  Especially in light of her failure to ignore her sunburn pain and work right through it.  I have raised some whimps that is for certain.  And I did it with the frame of mind that I was doing all the right things for all the right reasons. 

Keep in mind that I purposely spread my children out 7-8 years.  At one time, I read David Elkind’s book, “Miseducation”.  I thought it would be a good idea to give each child it’s own time with their parent.  Each in a dream world would get one on one attention, etc. etc.  I have four kids, but one is adopted.  That is three spread out by those years.  My eldest is around 34/35 yrs. old.  My youngest still at the Junior college level and 20 years old is still at home (or rather back at home) and being supported.  That has stretched motherhood out for a full 34/35 years.  To raise three girls and a boy, two girls that have emotional issues, and a boy who is bi polar and autistic (and has emotional issues) has left me utterly exahusted. I am ready for a break, and actually for my own mental and physical health, I NEED a long break if not full fledged retirement. 

And at nearly 60 years of age, I am angry, resentful, hurt, and feeling used.  I have four children who take all the help for granted.  Feel like they owe no one anything.  And see me  as if I am the one who is insane.   They even lie about myself and my husband about their circumstances to make themselves look better when they know the truth will make them look pretty bad–er lazy, helpless, whatever.  ( You blew your head gasket, no one else did— you refused to help with utilities even after blowing money on electronics, that is why he asked you to leave, which puts the blame squarely on YOU.”You’ll get it when I get it” are the exact words that got you asked to leave, after watching you charge that bunch of electronics)

I signed my youngest up for public housing the other day.  She got the thank you email.  After verifying that I did it, she asked me if I was trying to get rid of her already.  My answer, was, “not exactly”.  It’s not getting rid of YOU.  It’s putting you in your own space and forcing you to become responsible away from myself thereby giving me the rest and relaxation I not only deserve….but NEED.   

But, its also getting rid of a person who won’t pull their own weight.  Two grown ups willing to pick up after themselves on a constant basis have NO issues keeping a home clean and picked up almost 100% of the time.  Two adults and two children where two adults pick up after themselves and the grown children expect to be picked up after even though the two adults have failing health makes a house become more and more full of mess and chaos, which leads to a house full of emotional mess and chaos.  And that makes me pretty angry.  And feeling pretty used.

So, what happens when you care for people too much, for too long, all your life??
They become spoiled brats.   And I become angry, resentful, feeling used….which
is going to end up making me the thing I swore I’d never be as an older person:


Feeling very disrespected and unloved.  And the truth is, that is exactly what I am, disrespected and unloved by my own children.  No wonder why I’d like to run away and never come back (and probably will, as soon as I can–when I no longer have prevailing responsiblities, and I do have more disposable income).


I am 100% positive after my kids read this one, they’ll hate me all the more.  But, the truth is I really have reached the point where my own sanity means more to me than they do.  Unfortunately, that is just what it boils down to.








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Well, I did it

My Book over at Amazon
The Accidental Adventurers 
Three Days atop a Mountain

I finally got our missing on a mountain top story written (in serious fashion) and put it in a book.  It is a small book, less than 70 pages (69 I think).   It has a lot of the photos taken on that trip, along with a serious version of the story and the humorous one I wrote right away afterward.  Hoping that I’ll get a bit of income from it, and that I can pay for a few things around the house.  

Thanks for reading, take care.  Peg


Product page over at Amazon

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Thinking about Peter Glen (1939-2001) …

Peter Glen at his home outside of Cloverdale, California. (A goat trail off of highway 128)

Thought about friend, mentor, and client Peter Glen today. Did some looking around and despite the fact that he’s been gone nearly 20 years, he doesn’t have a memorial at, nor a profile, or ancestry. I just felt so sad about it. He was such a nice guy that I thought he should be remembered. So, now he has a profile on all three sites. I have three photos readily available. Plus I have more packed away in my office. I also have more than one of his books, so eventually, I’ll get his bio out of one of those. Found a write up about him tonight in Billboard magazine from 2001, when he passed away. I do not know how many family members he had at the time. When we scattered his ashes the only family present was a 1/2 brother. Peter’s New York office assistant, Robert Cohen, called me later on and asked if I had anything that Peter’s niece could have. I inherited a LOT of stuff. The prize though was a beautiful lamp. The lamp is too big and heavy to ship, I still have it. I sent her one of his dress shirts and several sets of home sewn dinner napkins. I don’t remember now… I filled a pretty big box. I kept the silverware, which is not silver, but super cool (in my not so humble opinion) and still use the set to this day!

Peter loved cats and he had a slew of them on his ranch. My oldest inherited two of them, I do not remember their original names, but one got its name changed to ‘Stinky’ and you can imagine why. LOL. If I remember right the other one, I just called Grouchy. I know I was not in his will. I think I probably got a lot of stuff because I was the poor sapsucker that found him on the floor and way beyond help, other than a ride to the coroner’s office. I was also the last person to see him alive. I was able to confirm some suspicions for the coroner. He died the same weekend I was to launch his website which was at the time, promoting one of his newest books. (Not the one mentioned below)

Promo shot for one of Peter’s books, probably taken in New York, where he lived before he came west to California.

I am super glad that I got to meet him, and that he let me listen into his business calls so that I learned more about assertiveness and business sense. (some anyhow). When I put myself down, he let me know that it was not true. He heard me talk to myself one day while installing phone lines into his office. His was the very first job where I worked remotely. I took care of his Sonoma County office and his New York office…both from Cloverdale. (So to the woman in the Santa Rosa employment office who just a year or so before told me to get my head out of the clouds because I’d NEVER be able to work remotely! Bah!) I was allowed to haul my kids (Diane and Wesley) up to the ranch with me while I worked. He seemed to enjoy them.

10 Years of Peter Glen. A book of 100 essays.

He lived on a gated ranch, lovingly called: Jasmin Hill. The first time I drove there, I not only didn’t know how to get into the gate, but I was also way afraid that the residence was too rich for my blood. Then I called Peter a father, to his younger (ahem, very handsome-er, drag queen) boyfriend. Boyfriend whispered, “uh, Peggy he’s not my father.” Oh you talk about embarrassed. I knew I wasn’t going back to that house ever. And yet, I was called back over and over again. In the end, I was trusted enough to have keys to his house –the boyfriend left while Peter was doing shows on the road. I was the one who went in and took a mental snapshot of what was left so that when he called and asked, I’d have answers. I think he took the news better than I did. But, then he had the income to replace all that rich stuff, where I would have lost it permanently, I’d probably never had afforded it again! LOL – but, by then we knew each other pretty well, and I was pretty protective. He refurbished and redraped and rebuilt. I got a kick, after he died, while we were all sitting around telling stories about him when I realized that his fancy dancy drapes were not hemmed. That is when I learned that money allows for a whole lot of show…and if anyone knew about the show it was him. After finding him, after the ambulance came and went, Diane (my youngest) and I drove to my son’s school for an IEP meeting. Another day where I learned that life, it just goes on. Even so, I will never forget Peter Glen.

Peter and some ‘Happy’ Cows of California.

P.S. This was the man who paid me $50 an hour, to find a ‘show cow’ for a show in Chicago. I searched and searched, and made calls, and in the end, I said, ‘Peter, when you get to Chicago, call 4-H, those cows are used to doing shows.” & I’ve got the video! LOL (See page 101 of Peter’s book Encore, for the meaning behind the cow.)

For your information, if I remember right, Peter has three books. It might be two.
I own two of them. I own a few of his video’s (some used as customer service training video’s). The books that I am aware of:

  1. It’s Not My Department, How America can return to Excellence giving and receiving quality service.
  2. Encore!, 57 Essays to Prompt, Provoke, and Produce.

    If you read these books, you’ll find them semi-autobiographical, as Peter writes partly about customer service experiences he’s had and of course about his ideas.
A memorial to Peter Glen
A memorial collage that I made after Peter’s passing. I took my camera one of the last times I was on the ranch. Took photos of the ranch (Aka Jasmin Hill, note those words under his name in the graphic), the roses, etc. So, the background is his ranch, the roses are Peter’s. His name is the title graphic from his website. Another of his promo shots to the right (I did not take that one) and what I thought at the time was a fitting quote. RIP, Peter Glen.

Partial cover of Peter’s book, Encore!

If you knew Peter, and would like to add anything feel free to send anything you’d like (as long as it is something nice, and in good taste)–photos, stories, memories, history. I’ll put them up for you, and give you credit if you’d like. Feel free to email me at:

final note: Remember that I work hard to create graphics and websites and pages for a living. Please do not ‘borrow’ any of my work without my permission. It is unethical and immoral, and I will choose to enforce any legal rights that I have if I see someone is profiting from my work. Thanks!

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I am sincerely sad and very, very sorry

one of my goals: Healing Wounds

The INSTITUTION OF SLAVERY existed OFFICIALLY in our Nation for approximately 250 years. Of course, taking advantage of others who are lower in some ways than ourselves continues. Who realizes that this trauma has affected some families…. FAMILIES for approximately 15 generations…. ??


The trauma will probably affect these people for at LEAST 15 generations more…

Listening to a hearing in the house (DC) on reparations. There is a bill under consideration to study the issue of victims of U.S. Slavery. I grew up basically hearing African Americans, and Mexicans being talked about in derogatory terms. The speaker at the moment, a woman with an incredible background in terms of accomplishment and education, and also a descendant of PEOPLE used for slave labor. I have for years and years repeated what I heard without thought. “I did not own slaves, I don’t owe a thing.” I do feel bad, and embarrassment when I find an ancestor who had slaves. It makes me incredibly sad. Today, the lady at the hearing pointed out that we who are living today, that even if we have not owned slaves ourselves, that we have indeed lived off of the improvements that were created in this country by slave labor. We live on the backs of slaves…. our standard of living. It was slavery that largely built our nation. And yet, these folks had little to say about how they lived. And when I mention slaves… I am not only talking about African American, though they are the main victims. I am thinking of our ultra cheap Mexican & Chinese labor, the Irish who were also victimized, the indentured laborer (basically a slave), and any others who were treated as sub-human, and as work, mules to make someone else’s reality better and more comfortable. This is not a conservative/liberal thing in my opinion. This IS a human thing. This is a need of repairing our relationships with ourselves and our neighbors. It becomes even more important when we realize that we are indeed, living upon culture, society, and a physical domain that would not exist if it were not for these PEOPLE. If nothing else, our nation, as a whole, needs to set up a written document that apologies to each and every soul that was treated in a less than compassionate way. This apology to the African Americans, Mexicans, Irish, and any other person affected is LONG OVERDUE and much needed. I am a person who has grown up with trauma. The consequences are not just long term, they are LIFELONG and GENERATIONAL. And my trauma has NOTHING to do with the beatings my ancestors gave their slaves (people). My trauma has nothing to do with my ancestors taking advantage of another human being to make their life’s more wealthy. The mindset that comes from living with the after-effects of trauma pigeon holes a person and leaves him in a way that they very slowly make it through their life. More often than not, the bottom line for these people is simply survival. It is very, very hard to crawl out of that hole. I, myself, have been in and out, mostly in, therapy for nearly 30 years. And this damage is from trauma from childhood and trauma from domestic violence through a marriage. If this kind of trauma lasts this long in one person’s life, can you imagine the effects of a family of people who have been enslaved for generations? Slavery is another form of trauma that people must learn to overcome. These people have literally only survived for generations. They deserve a hand up in some form, and a very sincere and official apology. I for one, am humbled when I realize that without slavery there would be no Wall Street. There would be no interstate, no railroad, and many other infrastructures that we all very much depend on today. If ever I felt the need to be sad and apologetic for what these PEOPLE have gone through in each and every one of their lives regardless of what role they filled, i.e. slave, child of a slave, supportive spouse, wench, laborer, a forced and unpaid sexual worker (call it what it was, when there was rape involved), regardless of skin color, and ethnicity: I am sincerely and humbly sorry for our horrible past and our horrible present, for I realize that racism has not stopped, and there are still people out there who honestly believe that people of color are less than PEOPLE. Until that is completely over and dead, I will continue to be sorry and sad. I for one, have found tears…

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Go Beavs!!!

Go Beaver's (Decal--Beaver head on a Oregon shaped background).  Oregon State University, Corvallis, Oregon.
Go Beavs!

So, it’s official… I’m female, and I’m a Beaver. I know the jokes that will eventually come from that. But, for now I’m going to enjoy and absorb the idea that at 57 years of age, I have been accepted into Oregon State University and I’m going in as Junior. Nearly all my credits from Santa Rosa Junior College were accepted.

For now, I will be working on a Bachelor’s degree in History. From there should I decide to, I can go for a Masters and then a PhD. I’d actually love to go for the PhD. I’d love for people to call me, “Doctor” … who???

I am excited as can be. I start in late September. They are on a quarter system so classes will be concentrated. I’m going to pray I can keep up.

So, for now and in the meantime, and later when I start, Go Beavs!! From an OFFICIAL
Beaver Girl!!! (ahem, Old Lady!)

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14 years, 15 years..whose counting…. I am!

You know, Clyde and I have known each other and have been living together for 15 years now — in different states including marriage. LOL. Two days ago was our anniversary. You know we still like each other???? Totally amazing. One more year and I will have surpassed the length that my ex and I made it. There will be no issue getting there banning anything extreme (like death). I am amazed every single day that love, and passion still exists. That we still don’t seem to take each other for granted and make an effort to do our best for one another. A true team. I realize this is everyday stuff for a lot of people. But, it was not every day for me, not the first time. Not sure my ex ever put his best foot forward-I was property for him. I am unsure if I ever really took him for granted, but I can say my attitude got worse and worse as the years went on. But, you know….. mental, emotional, physical abuse will do that to a person. The difference (not that it is at all fair to compare the two) between these two men are like night and day. Every day, almost Clyde lets me know he loves me. He tells me how sexy I am (really???!!!!). He calls me beautiful. These things matter to me. Not that I believe it all the time, but it’s great practice at taking a compliment with grace. We have our moments and disagreements. But, we both care enough that we never push it too far, and have asked for help at appropriate times (both of us). He is probably more committed than I am. I say that because where I come from, (divorced parents) has left me with ‘one foot hanging out the door’ for most of my life in terms of commitments. I am proud of Clyde and I. We both came from our own kinds of backgrounds. Yet, we are both grown up enough to care enough, to make it work. When we were married my pastor told me that this was truly my first marriage. I agreed with him at the time. But, looking back, with more experience under my belt. I agree with him even more now. Thank you Clyde for the best time in my life. For reminding me that it’s ok to play, and that hard work does work. That really good men who are relationship worthy do exist. To put up with and then allow me to outgrow my ‘man bashing’ years….. He has done a world of good for me and my health with his patience and love. Who do you know that would walk 12 miles to get help to get you off the top of a mountain and out of at least 2 feet of snow!!!! Still my hero.

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It was going to be called, “My Kind of Crazy”

This essay, such as it will be… was going to be called, “My Kind of Crazy”. But, I realized suddenly that to call it “MY KIND OF…” means that I approve, condone, am ok with. The reality is, that I am very, very sad about where I come from. My family is highly, highly dysfunctional.

Instead, officially, the title of this essay is, “A Spy In the Family” the idea comes from a conversation I had today with my therapist. And it suits the situation perfectly. I often feel as if I am the odd man out in the family. I won’t go so far as saying I’m the black sheep, though I think I probably am. I was a child who was fearful and at the same time hyper-aware of everything going on around me. I was watching the show, even when grown-ups thought I was not. What it has come down to, is that I watched and heard, and was told enough to put the puzzle at least partially together. Yet, after all these years, I have no final conclusion.

Having found some new cousins recently — I felt the need to protect them from the truth. I told the adoptive mother of one of them tonight, and I hope she got the message that if I could talk as plainly as I wanted and if she could hear it – don’t let your baby get to know his biological family. He doesn’t need them. He may look just like his father, but there is NO need to set him up for failure by introducing him to the idea that his real father was probably a piece of shit. Just cause his father was a loser, doesn’t mean that this kid is a loser. Don’t let this history bring your kid down.

To say that this was hard to say is an absolute understatement. I probably could not have said it 20 years ago. I told her, they are all dead now so I can say it. I was in all truth hiding truths that showed that most of my uncles and possibly grandfather were at the very least sexually promiscuous. And at the most, sexual predators. I am unsure just where on the spectrum they were all on. It is funny and not- in that our culture teaches us to not speak ill of people, and especially of the dead. And yet, if people are trouble makers, why should we not warn others? Why should talking about the dead shake up a person so much?

Then it dawned on me…. that just because my father was a loser in some ways… (probably the same ways as his cousin and brothers) doesn’t mean that I am a piece of shit. I should have never let it hold me down. But, you know, kids just don’t know these things. We have to figure it out and it comes one small step at a time if it ever comes. One must be willing to look at history, and family stories, the myths, and the truths and tease them out without denial. It is a very hard process. It is very painful. I am 57 years old, have been in therapy now for more than 1/2 my adult life. I’m still teasing out the truths, still trying not to have denial, and still wanting to cry as I come to more realizations.

I just posted this to Facebook only 30 or so minutes ago: “I had my therapist laughing so hard she was in tears today (not a lot, maybe just watery eyes, still…) Problem is I think that the laughter was because I told something that shocked or surprised her. I told it like it was funny, but the truth is, that it was not funny at all. She told me I should write a book. And I must have looked at her like she was nuts. She said, “Fictionalize it, no one is going to believe it was ever real life.” OMG—– All I did was tell what I grew up hearing and heard after growing up, and what I saw with my own eyes. At the end of my session, I had to look at her and say, “And that is just one side of my family”. The paternal side of my family. But, consider that my mother married into this mess, and after dad left her, she married a what came to be known as a child molester, and that, dear reader, is documented:

But, wait there is more….

And yes, reader, just so you know, I am actively working and have been for years, to ‘overcome’. At 57 years of age, thanks to adoptees coming into the fold, and me feeling the strong need to warn the younger of them — I came to some new realizations. It was NOT just my father and his brothers with the issues, and that showed me that these problems went beyond them in the family generational structure. On the Rowe side of things, I can document violence going back probably 5 generations. On all sides of my family, I can document men at war, if that has any bearing on the situation (studies show that it does a have a bearing). On the McClaskey side, not so much. But, to farm out a 10-year-old to be a servant, probably knowing that sexual ‘service’ was part of the deal. I’m not quite sure just how my great grandfather lived with himself. Maybe this is why we never see him smile, and even looking downright sad in his later in life photographs. As I put the graphic together, it became evident that there was probably NO one in my father’s family (mother, father, siblings) who had not been touched in one way or another of some sort of sexual abuse. And I AM including verbal abuse, emotional abuse, and physical abuse.

Getting back up to that graphic up above. I have a 2nd cousin, we’ll call him Johnny. Johnny had a girlfriend when he was 17, turned out she was way older than he was (think statuary rape). I really had issues with my cousin accepting this and not having the woman thrown in jail. Very recently, I was told that she had been married to Billy (my cousin, today, if Billy were alive he’d be 57. I doubt that Johnny is even 30). And even more recently, I realized she was one of the women that Billy and my Uncle had swapped. So, this woman has had three generations of ‘Rowe’ men (boys). Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good looking woman. But, the whole situation creeps me out. I am fairly (like 100%) sure that this would be considered a normal reaction to an abnormal situation.

This is the gift that my family has given me. And every other child of my generation, and to our children and grandchildren. It is no wonder we have boundary issues. Problems saying NO. It is NO wonder… mom wanted to keep us from that side of the family, and that her brother and parents considered them “uncivilized”. Where do I go with this? Who wants to help me write this book? Rather than fictionalizing it, perhaps, I should just write it up as part of my biography. After all, I keep telling myself that I have/will overcome, and I can talk a good one about ‘bouncing back’.

My God, this is where I come from…. How do the women in these men’s lives live with these stories and images? I am a child of one of them and grown and still having trouble placing it where it belongs in this puzzle we call life.

(To add to the graphic above — Alveta’s first husband was a bigamist, and her second was a winner at domestic violence. She was beaten and hence a divorce. The third was her charm, and thank God for him. He was a stabilizing force within the family.

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One thought just leads to another…

On being a ‘whistleblower’

when push comes to shove… I bounce back!!

While writing the previous post, it dawned on me. That being a ‘whistleblower’ is a theme in my life. The outcome is very nearly always the same. Wow.

The first time I was a ‘whistleblower’ is when I supposedly betrayed my mother. This might be what she is talking about when she says I betrayed her, I really do not know. Not sure I care at this point. But, when I realized she was involved with my step father’s criminal acts, I worked very hard to get the detective to arrest her, to get the D.A. to press charges, to get the school district to fire her. And I’d agree that it was a betrayal, except to say that the betraying had already been done by herself, once she decided that my child was the other woman, and she had to protect herself from the said seven-year-old. The detective in an act or acts of support actually nagged the District Attorney. I went to see the district attorney in person. It finally was explained this way. Criminal charges are very much linked to money, and by money, I mean the money it takes to prosecute a criminal. The taxpayers in our country do not want their taxes spent unwisely. They see it as foolish and a waste of time and resources. And so, yours and my local district attorney must weigh each case to see if it is a winning case. IF it does not look like it can be won (regardless of how guilty they feel the person might be), they will not charge the case, because it’s a waste of time and money.

In the case of women — they have a tendency to be able to play up their so-called ‘womanhood’. In my mother’s case specifically, the District Attorney, explained to me that women her age have a tendency to: 1.) find the best attorney they can afford 2.) Act old 3.) Act helpless and the jury reacts by letting the criminal (woman) go free.

And that is the only reason my mother wasn’t charged. The detective was pretty sure she was guilty. The District Attorney was pretty sure she was guilty. Everyone told me so. And just to finish the story completely, my mother did hire the best attorney out of San Francisco who’s was very well known for protecting child molesters and advertised and was proud of it, along with the acting of being THE victim.

So, yes there was ‘harassment’ there on my part. How in the hell do you let things like that, that hurt your child so badly go? Obviously, she never hung onto the hurt that my father rained down on me. In fact, I’d say she blamed me for it when I was still quite young. The same way she blamed my daughter for what my stepfather did, because a seven-year-old is, of course, an impossibly irresistible ‘other woman’ for the man of the house. (YUK!)

The net result of this small campaign of mine, was I suppose, being cut off from my mother. She threatened to have me cut off from the whole family. And at the time I thought she did. And I stayed away from EVERYONE including my beloved grandmother, because I thought I was unwanted. So, yes, I have paid in spades.

But, in the end, I bounced back.

Then I sent a message to an almost son in law. They are still not married so much as I know. And I’d never felt the need to send the message except since what happened to my child I made a solemn promise to myself that children always came first. Had the same (grown up now, and in her 30’s) beloved daughter not told me that she did not like child of the house and considered her a spoiled brat, I would never had a reason to send a message to the almost son in law. The worst of it though, was that she told me that the young child had done some smart-mouthed talking back to her. Daughter basically told me of her reaction. Her reaction was to tell the child that she could talk to her biological mother like that, but she was NEVER going to speak to her like that again. Um, confusing much???

This child’s father was raised Mormon, and it is soooooooooo intertwined with his personality that regardless of how he says he hates it and doesn’t approve of religion and is atheist and so forth— I’m sorry it made him mostly the man that he is, which is considerate, and kind, and a pretty good father to boot. I was/am pretty impressed by him. One of the things that he seems to have stressed was that was important to him that he stay on good terms with his child’s mother, and that his child shows her mother respect. I will tell you, the way the man is, it is hard for me to not see how a person could disrespect what he wants. He’s just a good man, albeit, somewhat angry. But, not angry with my daughter, apparently and in denial since obviously he doesn’t think she’s capable of uttering such words of basically disgust for his child and for what he believes is best for his child. Had she thought about it, she’d known that what she was doing was manipulative toward him and what he wants, as well as toward his child. She is poisoning the child against her mother. She is confusing the child at the very least. My daughter may be well-intentioned, but she is really and truly poisoning the well.

And so, I got kicked to the curb for warning the father to not let the child be alone with said daughter. Because I am afraid of the little girl being hurt by my daughters sometimes incredibly hurtful mouth, which she’s has in her possession and is probably the biggest defense mechanism she owns. So, for basically for being a ‘whistleblower’ again. And it hurt. My god, it hurt. This is partly what led to be my being suicidal at one point.

And just to make an extra point. If I could have handled it another way I would have. But, I was already feeling threatened by the time I opened my mouth. I am sorry for how things turned out. But, I am not sorry for what I tried to accomplish. My ultimate goal was not to hurt anyone, or cause trouble, but to protect a child from a person who owns at times a very nasty mouth. (and her having that mouth, that’s just a fact, and it can not be denied. I would not be surprised at all to see acknowledgment on her headstone!) “Here I rest, Here you see, in the end, MY MOUTH got the better of me. Now kiss my assets!”

I will shut up when I am dead...
I will shut up when I am dead…

but, I HAVE bounced back…

And then, came the situation at the Douglas County Historical Society. Where I got into trouble for having the audacity to point out that artifacts were being abused. That I opened my mouth to point out that board members are not ethically or legally allowed to use DCHS property for their own personal use. I pointed out that it was becoming a habit and that the people were becoming untruthful, unethical, and participating in mutual illegal behaviors. I have turned them into the state of Oregon and into the IRS. I was President of the society, and I was told to turn in my keys. I thought there was board backing or I never would have. Lastly, I have pointed out to the officials that the bookkeeper on the board is Mobile Tune’s bookkeeper and receives her paycheck from Ken. Had she never told my husband that she does as told or she doesn’t collect the paycheck, I’d never thought anything of it, but ahem… her being on the board is unethical. And I know that Ken knows it, because he’s a board member on other boards, and probably knows more about ethics than I do. So, the bottom line is that I got kicked to the curb for being a whistleblower… (Ken Deatherage of Roseburg, Oregon arranged that little Harrah. Beware, and do not use his business, Mobile Tune, for if he can’t be ethical at a small town historical society, imagine how ethical he’ll be with YOUR automobile. Ask my husband what happened to his Jeep and a rear end job that Ken’s shop was paid to fix & did not. I’d stay away from Cynthia Rockney Wilson too, she and Ken both thought it was ok to use DCHS property for their own personal use–and in both cases, a small yet, illegal gain)

Being a whistleblower in my case has in the past put a target on my back. The principle blowback in my case is lack of family. I become estranged more and more from those whom I love BUT whom, I expect excellence from. Being tossed from the board at the historical society was more like being taken away from a great love of my life. But, I will find another way to love. I have personally, removed the ‘target’ from my back and I refuse to be a victim of other people’s dishonesty.

I bounced back
& I have and will PREVAIL…

I rediscovered my goal and have taken the steps to be able to do a better job with what I feel is my calling, and I will enjoy every step along the way. My goal is to know more about our world and it’s history and apply it to our culture in terms of women and children and how they are used and abused, and what we can do to change our world to where it should be concerning these issues. I have applied to the University of Oregon @ Corvallis for a major in history, and women’s studies for a minor. I have been accepted. And I will fulfill my calling…and remain true to myself, and true to what I believe is acting right. Protecting women & children (all of them) first and foremost, and using history and the written word to do it.

It’s just my job.
Posted in Children's Rights, Culture, General News, History, Memorials & Dedications, Memories, Personal, Womens Rights | Leave a comment

The Ramblings of a Not so Nutty Woman

Catching a Detective Pikachu in my living room. 5/08/2019

The past couple of weeks have just been absolutely nuts! So much going on. A car in the shop to get the transmission worked on yet again. We have not driven it like a race car or abused it in any way. It’s still under warranty for the rebuild, so back it went. It’s leaking Transmission fluid and having trouble engaging the gears. I’ve only lost my temper and drove it fast once. Really! Yes, for me that’s a pretty much a record. Another idiot thought he could run me off the road coming up on my rear end probably close to 100 MPH. I think, (not that I’m a mind reader), but I think he thought I’d see him and get out of the way. I was going the speed limit. I was keeping up with traffic, and I was in a SOUR mood. I tapped my brake which had the desired effect. He panicked and hit his brakes pretty hard, and I used that time to speed up and get even with a big rig. He actually thought he was going to get around me. He had to slam on his breaks again. So sorry, dude. From that point on, he spent very little time behind me after that. Scared much, stupid?? He did think he was going to push me off the road one more time. So, this time I put a little oomph into the brake. That was the end of the game. He did not try it anymore, and I got ahead of the truck on the uphill and got over and he went happily around us both. People really need to take others into consideration though. You know…. I have been rear-ended, and I am fairly sure I have PTSD left over from that. I have terrible reactions to people coming too close to the rear of my car. And by golly, if I can’t see your headlights, you are just too damn close and I’ll take action at that point. Most of the time, I see people coming and get over, but sometimes I miss it. It happens… just don’t ride my ass. And we will get along just fine. I won’t say how fast I was going at one point when I looked down at my speedometer. But, suffice it to say, I had NO clue the car would move that fast on a steep uphill mountain (Cascades, I-5, between Roseburg and Grants Pass). I had absolutely NO freakin clue!!!

More good and nutty news, I’ve been accepted to a University. Yea, age 57, close to 60 and wondering if it’s gonna be a waste of time But, accepted to work on a history degree….and I am absolutely ELATED, I think I’m going to be a BEAVER (Corvallis?). Being a Beaver will be kind of fun. I can hear the jokes now, considering I’m female and all. LOL. Now, I have to break it to my youngest. There is a good chance we’ll be starting and ending at nearly the same time. Which I think will be cool, but she stands to lose a little financial aide. That part is not good. I’ll see if I can not take that away from her.

LOL – and that’s not all. We’ll have an unofficial official anniversary in two days, that will be 14 years. It’s official, in all honesty. We’ve not spent a single day apart in anger…. or any other negative thing. For the most part, I would not change a thing. But, wait, there is more. The best part of this for me and it’s an OLD thing, in one more year, I will officially be married to this one longer than to my first one. If that ex of mine has not been officially been tucked away in my psyche, then I will do that this year. Next year will be one hell of a celebration for me. As the sage says with his/her words: “The best way to get even is to live your best life.” Been there, doing that. LOL. Have realized that most of my PTSD do actually come from my first marriage. Which my family of origin did set me up for. But, most of the stuff I avoid is anything that reminds me of that situation. The final divorce was in March 1995. I waited 10 years before officially tying a knot. There was a boyfriend in between if he can be called that. I have my doubts. It was a pretty one-sided relationship that was fairly emotionally abusive.

Crazier: ….I caught the Detective Pikachu. Not once now, but three times. That’s important, right? Ahem, yea… almost 60 years old and catching Pokemon. LOL, Hopefully, there are worse ways to waste time. I think it is fun, and the game serves its purpose. Even though I swore it would NEVER encourage me to move my body, I was wrong, it does. I’ll walk for a digital, form-less, but cute Pokemon. Crazy right?!? I think so.

After swearing, out loud even, that I would not have any more hens, I’ve given four young hens a home. I’m back up to eight hens. We are getting between five and eight eggs a day. We had our first omelet in about four years. It was just for shits and giggles, and OMG, it was so good. There was no meat in it. Sauteed onion, red bell pepper, and mushrooms wrapped in an egg blanket with lots of fresh black pepper in the egg. Yum. We did do a couple other really bad things with that meal. I included a generous portion of Mexican mix grated cheese (OMG, GOOD!) inside and atop the omelet. We bought a small container of sour cream for it too. The truth is we’ll never be 100% vegan. I wish we were not such meat lovers, but it’s how we were raised. I think only having an omelet every four years could be once a month, we are doing very, very well. That’s nuts!! (Hazelnuts?? !! Nope still haven’t planted the hazelnut trees yet, nor the Cherry trees…)

My youngest recently got eyelashes for my car, for my birthday. I’m going to buy one more set and fill out the eye line. LOL, but I’ve gotten a comment. An older (not me, I’m not OLD) man made a comment about liking the eyelashes on the car. Husband announced that it’s not his car. At that point, the older man became very animated (It was really funny), “Really, you think?? I thought maybe you did this.” Hubby is really a man’s man. He did not like the idea of eyelashes on the car and doesn’t want to hear about a lipstick mouth being added, but ultimately, it’s my car and he’ll just ignore it. LOL Eyelashes on a car? Only a crazy woman will do that!! Yes, Spencer, I think they are cool too! hahaha!! I even had to rub the eyelashes into the neighbor who sold the car to me. hahahahaha!!! He says, “what are they going to come up with next.” hehehehe!!!

Speaking of Cherry Trees, we’ve planted two more apple trees, and two new pear trees and have two semi-dwarf cherry trees to plant. We are looking for another plumb tree now. And he’s decided to get a pineapple guava and plant it on a pig fence arch (yet to be installed).

He is moving the fish pond for the third time. I really liked it where it was. It really makes me sad. We’ll see what the follow through looks like. A third time though… that’s nuts. And it’s only about 20 feet from where it was originally (or will be when he’s done). Ha!

The crazies. Well for some it’s not crazy at all. For me it is. I’ve seen people abuse drugs, and show so much lack of empathy (apathy?) that I’ve spent the majority of my life avoiding all illicit drugs. Well, in Oregon, Marijuana is no longer illegal. And it’s not like I fell into just using it, I use it mostly medically and I find that it helps a LOT. But, yes, this is fairly nuts for me. I have to say in my own defense, I waited to even try it until I was pretty desperate. It was not yet legal, but there was the talk of it being on the ballot. I was in so much pain from a psychological viewpoint, that anything, and I do ANYTHING would have passed muster if it helped. My first hit was simply to try and get help overcoming the pain. It was never about getting high, and it never will be for me. Even though, I did it with hubby having full knowledge (he’s an ex-MP, and was in law enforcement for 8 years, ahem…) that did not make it really ok. He accepted it, but did not approve I guess is how I’d say it. But, I had reached the point where I had driven off with the plan of saying goodbye to my loved ones in the cemeteries of Oregon and then driving to Washington (because Oregon land was just too sacred for me to even think about committing suicide in) and plowing myself into a far off mountain ravine. And that is just not me. If ever there was a fighter in this world, it is I. The 2nd and 3rd times, at least 6 months between each hit was for the same purpose. A painful time in life to say the least. My boy was still giving me his growing pains (and still does sometimes, but gosh he is really trying hard right now) and my youngest, well, she was just being hard-headed, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to be her mother for a while. The 2nd hit I got a little too much and got ‘high’ and I fought it as best I could. My son sat with me through it. He kept telling me that I wasn’t acting like it was affecting me at all, and he had trouble believing that I was under the influence at all. Considering I was the one who was clocking out from reality and had the worlds best apple at snack time….. I was till preaching about how bad the shit was. LOL. Mostly because I didn’t intend to end up that way in the least. A hit or two is very relaxing. It helps to melt the hurt away even if only temporarily. In general, I lay down and sleep. I have had a bad case of insomnia my whole life. It is due, I think, to hyperarousal from PTSD. I’m on the constant lookout for the man in the night. In fact, I’ve been running from him for just about my entire life. The unknowable, unseeable, gotta be the male perpetrator of my life. Probably my father. Once the worst of it was over, my son left the house, and I laid down for a nice sleep. I then talked to my sister (who has experience with these things) and she warned me to never take one or two hits. So, I don’t. Except that I’ve now made the same mistake twice. It doesn’t hit instantly so I think I don’t get anything, and I go in for more. That is what happened last week to me and my hubby who did his very first trial run. He hated it because it felt like he was having an anohter stroke. But, we giggled and had a ton of fun. We are both so serious… we’ve never giggled like that before together. I for one liked it. He said never again. I told him he got too much, and a local grocery owner told him he got the “FEAR”. LOL–which I suppose is what I got when my son gave me a brownie full of the shit and I thought I was dying. Either way for the two of us straight-laced old farts, the mold has been broken. Neither of us is virgins of wacky tabacky anymore.

After a while, when the giggling was all over, I guess, at least for him. He wanted to rest and get away from the terrible feeling of an impending stroke. I was left alone with my thoughts, and for someone like myself who likes to break a thought down into its pieces and really think about what they might mean in every way. Well, let’s just say I was in 7th heaven. It was awesome, I thought, that I could think in “Parallel” (the best word I have for it), and that was not all. I had feelings I had not felt in years, and I realized and wondered if I’d been under the influence as a child (2nd handed smoke from dad, entirely possible). Suddenly it made absolute sense and still does. And I was on the very edge of memories. I could almost reach out and touch them they were so close. I have since begun a search of how marijuana might be helpful in retrieving trauma memories. If it helps, even with tears, it would be helpful to move on from all that crap, finally.

So, that is where I stand as of now. I own a little baby clone. It’s cute. My son said to feed it pineapple juice (I don’t thinks so). And it’s still very under control in terms of that it will be used for only pain (Psychological and physical — diabetic neuropathy is hell!). Because my arthritis has taken a turn for the worse and so has the neuropathy, even for temporary relief, mostly so I can get good sleep, I see as a reasonable ‘excuse’ for use. That is the craziest, I guess… of this past week and half.

Posted in Culture, Memories, Mental Illnesses, Sexual Assault, Womens Rights | Leave a comment

Facebook conversations…

Note: I have turned off comments to this particular entry. I am not going to even entertain ANYONE about this idiot that some call a legal President. And I have no interest in wasting my time reading the crap either.

“Trump would have been charged with obstruction were he not president, more than 370 former federal prosecutors assert in statement

“The statement — signed by former federal prosecutors who worked in Republican and Democratic administrations — essentially offers a rebuttal to Attorney General William P. Barr’s determination that the evidence uncovered by special counsel Robert S. Mueller III was “not sufficient” to establish that President Trump committed a crime….”
An email update I JUST received from the Washington Post a highly qualified and respected news outlet. There is OVERWHELMING evidence that TRUMP IS THE SCUM the resides atop the pond that he PROMISED to clean out. Yet he’s effectively added more cronies to the pond. When will enough be enough for this country?? When will people realize we’ve lowered ourselves and our country to a place that this nation has never been before? As far as I am concerned, he has been the worst President in history. I think him setting this country back a couple of generations in terms of racism and Misogyny is an understatement. I agree with Mr. Biden when he says that Trump is ushering Jim Crow back into this country. I can only shake my head in disbelief, and when I am done I hang my head…. I am embarrassed at this situation we’ve put our country in. I am ANGRY that people actually support him and continue to believe he is a good president. I keep waiting to wake up from this National NIGHTMARE!

This is just my latest post. A cousin and I are in a verbal knock down drag out at the moment. Seriously thinking about copy and pasting here. Her words are so old and tired. And yet, she is probably 15 years younger than I am. Her arguments come from the voice of those who are mostly uneducated and accept an argument at face value rather than a people who might research the subject and make sure that it’s truthful. This is a problem even educated people have thought. People develop their bias, and then they stick with it, become attached to it as if it were God-given truth. Trump — is not what people think he is. He is for all intents and purposes a criminal, a liar, and in the words a psychiatrist friend, “Malignant narcissistic personality disorder.” It is not hard to see if you are studied up on the information. Sometimes, I just have to tell myself to just breath….

The graphic above has sparked a very intense debate on my Facebook page. People are polarized and stuck in their positions. Having said that, you are wrong about this, and I am right, Trump is absolutely the biggest piece of shit this country has seen in YEARS!

It is interesting that the mental health experts in the country mostly say that Trump HAS “Malignant narcissistic personality disorder’ (THANK YOU, B.A.M.). I have noticed, and I am sad to admit it, that most the people I know who cling on to this man the worst, have come from dysfunctional backgrounds. Of course, I am not a doctor, and I have no right diagnosis. But, having come from a family of origin that I consider highly dysfunctional in terms of mental health issues and criminal issues — having read HUNDREDS of books on the subject and having OVERCOME most of it. It is quite easy to look around and see…. birds of a feather..

Posted in Culture, General News, Just Jabber, Lifestyle, Memories, Personal, Random Links, Sexual Assault, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

The Google Photo Search Features

This is what Google Photos found when searching for cats in my photos.  Don't get me wrong, they found cat pictures that I had forgotten that I had.  But, a dog??  And a Sheep??  Isn't AI grand!!  I'm sure they'll get the bugs worked out eventually.
This is what Google Photos found when searching for cats in my photos. Don’t get me wrong, they found cat pictures that I had forgotten that I had. But, a dog?? And a Sheep?? Isn’t AI grand!! I’m sure they’ll get the bugs worked out eventually.

For those who use Google Photos and don’t know about a couple of features that make sorting photos into albums easier, let me tell you. There is a feature that lets you name every face that Google finds in your collection, and then Google will sort all the matching faces into their own Album by name. If you have a family where people have very similar features rest assured they’ll all be thrown into the other’s albums. My father and his brothers have really, REALLY confused Google a lot! LOL. Another thing you can do is start an album throw a photo into, then name the photo and again, it will sort by features and try to get the right photos in the album. In this way, you can sort through people and ‘pets’. It hasn’t done a great job of sorting our pets by face yet. hahaha!! Google also sorts by places, things, posters, dates, months, cities, and about anything else it can stick a name to. I saw a search for ‘dogs’ that was built into the Animals album. After searching for dogs, the algorithm came up with photos I had taken of deer, bulls, cats (calico & tabby), and of course, the dog! I don’t think Sadie would appreciate being mistaken for Jake. LOL, she’d be even more miffed at being confused for a Malamute! hahahaha!!! For what the service does do, it does save a LOT of time in sorting things for the sake of Albums… Just don’t expect perfection. You won’t get it!

On this graphic, you can see how I and Google have sorted my photos so far. I attached names, but for places they looked at where I took the photos had (camera’s these days have built-in GPS, latitude/longitude) so I have Albums for Washington State, Newport, Winston, Canyonville, Roseburg, Merlin (etc)–Oregon, and Orland, Hornbrook & Cresent City in California. I didn’t have to lift a finger for those sorts (albums) to be made. What they called a ‘zoo’ was a wee bit funny—the Floed-Lane House (Museum) counted as a Zoo since I took photos of Deer in the front yard. As did our backyard (back to that famous sheep, Buddy). Google creates animations and videos, and you can turn those off in the settings. OH, one last note, I do wish they’d let us sort our albums in Alphabetical order! Oh! One more last thing–the real beauty of this service? They allow you to save in high resolution, and share with whomever you want!
Oh, and Google, if you are listening, I know beggars can’t be choosers, but being able to nest albums would be REALLY cool!!! Like if we could sort by year, and then have all of Douglas Count photos for that year under that, sorted out by month, or place, or thing, or whatever…..
Posted in Fun Stuff, Google, Just Jabber, PC Support | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Four Little Birds

A small flock of Curlews, the subspecies is unknown to me, though I suspect Whimbrels.   Note that one of them has a lighter beak, I'm thinking either a female or most probably a juvenile.

A small flock of Curlews, the subspecies is unknown to me, though I suspect Whimbrels. Note that one of them has a lighter beak, I’m thinking either a female or most probably a juvenile.

When I was watching the Curlews on the beach the other day, and taking pictures of their wonderful selves…. I remembered a show I saw as a kid, “The last of the Curlews”. And I kind of brushed off the memory. Mostly because I did not believe that I was remembering anything right, and because I did not think I was looking at real Curlews. I really did not think that I was looking at Curlews.

Well, tonight, I remembered the show again, so I typed the title that I remembered (which was exactly correct) into Google. I found that those birds on the beach are called Curlews. I also found that I remembered the detail of there being an After School Special, was correct. It was the very first after-school special ever and showed in October of 1972. I was all of ten years old when the show aired. The story was about a sub-species of Curlew called an Eskimo Curlew.

I thought about it some more after all remember a story from when you are ten years old. What was it that made the memory stick all these years. After some thought, I know why the memory stuck with me so long. The story caused me to cry…. I cried hard over those little birds and how they were going extinct. A little girls tender heart even at 10 years old showed some compassion for another being. If I were my daughter, I’d been proud that she was capable of such feeling.

The birds on the beach and the birds in the story are probably not the exact same subspecies of Curlews, but obviously, they looked close enough alike to jog my memory. I did not know until I looked it up tonight, that it was a work of fiction, based on what the author thought was happening in the world in his time. I might not have cried so hard had I known it was ‘just a story’. But, then…on the other hand, I cried when Dumbo was being rocked by his momma, and I cried over several of the Lassie shows, so maybe not. 🙂

Some sources:

Posted in Fun Stuff, Memories, Nature, Personal | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Diagnosis, Afib, & a Birthday, Alas, Life Goes On

Looking South from Port Orford (Harbor? Cove?).  Highway 101 is in the background.
Looking South from Port Orford (Harbor? Cove?). Highway 101 is in the background.

More photos will be available in the ‘gallery’ under the ‘photography’ link in the menu. From there just click “Photography 2019”

This past week has been very, very busy. On the 18th, I saw my cardiologist who looked at my MRI Scan of my heart results and declared that I probably have not had a heart attack or else my ejection rate would not be back at a normal rate (with help of medications). I now own NO dead heart muscle and I am allowed to do anything I want/can physically. So my main goal is to work my health back up to as good as it can be. I found it interesting that he did not even change my medications, though I have the beginnings of Cardiac Artery Disease (CAD). I guess I am not far enough in for the change he thought I might have needed in an earlier appointment. This is all GREAT news!!!

Two days later, as if on cue, my husband said,”Honey, I think I need to go to the hospital.”His chest hurt mildly, and he did his home EKG and found that the pattern matched the picture that the cardiologist (same as mine, Dr. Fred VanDis, Roseburg –we both highly recommend him, get there before he retires!) drew for him so he’d know what Afib looked like. So, I drove him to the hospital around 6:30ish. The intake crew immediately confirmed Afib. Blood was drawn pretty quickly. And in the long run, it came back normal. So there was no heart attack in the making, just Afib. Now, don’t think that I am taking Afib lightly, I am very aware that it can cause life-ending blood clots that lead to stroke. In those moments, I was pretty damn scared, but, you know, you have to be strong for the one actually going through the actual problem. Of course, he was very full of humor. If he was scared, he sure wasn’t letting on.

He got his very first ever, shock. You know, you see it on TV, with the paddles and all. It was determined that he’d caught the Afib and got himself into the emergency room fast enough that shocking the heart was actually an option. If he’d been in Afib for days (as he was the first time) then a shock to the heart is out of the question because there is a good chance that a blood clot has formed and a shock could help it circulate through the system and create a stroke. He consented and signed his life away. The crew knocked him out, and the crew noted how ‘entertaining’ he was while he was on the way out. Then they shocked him.

We started our Tuesday which was my birthday this year in our usual way.  We went to the casino and he played his $10 free play and then we enjoyed his free ice cream cone.  Thank you 7 Feathers Casino for supporting your local veterans.  It makes for a fun outing away from the house, and the stresses of family.  
Tulips in Canyonville, Douglas County, Oregon.
We started our Tuesday which was my birthday this year in our usual way. We went to the casino and he played his $10 free play and then we enjoyed his free ice cream cone. Thank you 7 Feathers Casino for supporting your local veterans. It makes for a fun outing away from the house, and the stresses of family.
Tulips in Canyonville, Douglas County, Oregon.

In the meantime, I very willingly, stepped out as asked. I do believe that would have been too hard for me to watch in all honesty. I got to the waiting room. I used the girls’ room, and I played one game of solitaire. Then Kyle (part of the intake crew, and expert blood drawer) came out to get me and let me know they were done, and that it was a success.
They then began to let him know that as he was able he’d be ready to go home. He was still somewhat groggy. But, his heart tried to go into Afib again, so they decided he had to stay and be watched for 30 more minutes after he was given metoprolol in his IV. Probably an hour later, after his heart had finally settled down for a full 30 minutes, he got to go home. We were home and in by 3:35 am.

While there…we talked about what might have triggered the Afib, as apparently it can be triggered by outside things like stress, exercise, etc. We decided it was probably the physical stress of taking out a mature butterfly bush. Our oldest bush, at least 10 years old, was showing signs of considerable decay— aka rot! He was able to just push branches off with his foot. But, that was foot, leg muscles (the strongest in the body) and quite a bit of effort. OF course, there is also the underlying stress of his bankruptcy. But, we think ultimately, it was the butterfly bush.

Curlews in the surf. Port Orford, Oregon

But, you know the very next morning (er, same morning) we were both up doing what we had to do. He fixed our push weed wacker and started the lawn mower for me. I finished the front yard, and he started working on the very back which was knee deep in grass and weeds. I pushed the lawn mower to the place that I was afraid I was too weak to do, and the truth is I had to stop once and just breathe. I am not as strong as I was, but I can see now that as long as I have my medications (until my heart gets stronger) that I should be able to do whatever I did before. Good news!! And he got all of the inside of the back yard done. What he did was really no big deal back in the old days, but now, knowing that I didn’t even want him out there, well, I was happy he made it and did not go into AFib. He’s been told he can no longer participate in strenuous exercise. Of course, the joke is…what in the world will you do when sex becomes strenuous. His answer is that he’s going to die a very happy man. LOL

Battle Rock @ Port Orford, Douglas County, Oregon.  
During the Rogue Indian Wars a battle between natives and pioneers happened here. 
 I'll write about that soon.
Battle Rock @ Port Orford, Douglas County, Oregon.
During the Rogue Indian Wars a battle between natives and pioneers happened here.
I’ll write about that soon.

And two days after this round of Afib, and getting put to sleep, and then being shocked to reset the heart’s electrical signal, it was my 57th birthday. He offered me a day trip, which I gratefully accepted. We made a huge circle. And made it to the Oregon coast. He drove the whole way and never once even looked tired. He’s an amazing man. And though, I know he was not trying to prove anything, on our trip, we stopped in Port Orford at Battle Rock to walk on the beach. The man can’t see a rock that he isn’t trying to climb them. Up and over he went, two days after an episode of Afib. Indeed, life goes on…

Textures in the sand.  Of course, the metaphor of the footprints come to mind and never escapes me, hence the photo.  But, the ripples caused by the wind, and the crust of dry sand broken and lying atop the rest all interested me.  It's all beautiful to me.
Textures in the sand. Of course, the metaphor of the footprints come to mind and never escapes me, hence the photo. But, the ripples caused by the wind, and the crust of dry sand broken and lying atop the rest all interested me. It’s all beautiful to me.

Note All images copyright April 23, 2019, Peggy A. Rowe-Snyder. Do not use without prior written permission. These and other High-Resolution shots from this day are available for purchase.

Sea Scoters on the surf in Port Orford, Oregon.  These are fun and large sea ducks.  They went behind the curl of an incoming wave and then would dive.  I'd be trying to get a photo and oooppps, they were gone!  I have a whole lot of photos with no birds in them.  Once the popped back up, they rode the surf in partway, and fairly close to dry land, then they'd swim back out behind a curl of a wave and go again!  They were fun to hunt (for photos)
Sea Scoters on the surf in Port Orford, Oregon. These are fun and large sea ducks. They went behind the curl of an incoming wave and then would dive. I’d be trying to get a photo and oooppps, they were gone! I have a whole lot of photos with no birds in them. Once the popped back up, they rode the surf in partway, and fairly close to dry land, then they’d swim back out behind a curl of a wave and go again!
They were fun to hunt (for photos)

Posted in General News, Oregon Coast, Pacific Northwest, Travel | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

I Still Dance My Little Dance Today

Dedicated to those who are both a mother and child….

Today I Danced My Own Dance

Then the yesterdays came,

and then they fluttered away….

while they were here,

I gave them a glance…

In one yesterday,

I was a princess,

who was loved, given the gift of joy.

In another,

I was a nothing,

something to be wadded up

and thrown away.

There was another yesterday,

where I was a protector

of one so young and meek.

I felt powerful

I was able to grow in uncountable ways….

After that day of wonder,

I was beaten,

and it was in every way-

My self-esteem, my energies —

everything was gone astray.

Then came another day,

I often see as a yesterday,

I pulled myself up,

dusted myself off,

told myself I’d live,

and love,

and then…

I chose selflessness, love.

I chose completion, education, resolution.

I chose growth, as opposed to stagnation.

Unlike those who live in

and stay stuck in the dark,

In fact,

I did choose to not live with you

in the state of bitterness.

And yesterday,

it was quite clear

that you, regardless of

my station in life,

expected me to sit down, shut up,

and do as I was told.

That was truly my betrayal.

Clearly, I could not mind.

Clearly, I could not follow direction,

The threats did not stymie me.

That must have left you filled with fear.

But, I kept dancin’ my dance,

I thought for myself,

and lived for mine,

and your threats could not stop

my protection of one so little and frail.


I was true to me.

True to my beliefs.

True to my view of the world.

True to my precepts…

I lived the best I knew,

While you acted as jury and judge,

And you stayed mighty and angry

on that bitter seat.

You may have it

if that is how you are pleased,

honestly, I’ll never understand it.

Myself, I could not stand to live in that cave.

Somewhere along the line,

I grew up,

and I danced my dance.

But, you still saw a little girl.

The same little rebel you saw when

I was all of three–

the one you wished aloud

would get even with myself,

when mine turned into me.

And yet, the little rebel

she danced her little dance.

How sad it must be to stay

stuck in the past,

and live with such anger

and bitterness…

That you can’t enjoy

watching your own

dance their own dance,

and spin all around.

How hard it must be…

To leave that painful welt alone…

I can see how the blood letting might

actually, help.

That is,

if you can’t leave it alone.

Someday, maybe you will see,

that only I can see what I can be.

Only I can sing my tune,

Only I can dance my dance.

You can enjoy the music with me.

We can take turns and sing.

But, the only person who can take

my step, is me.

Threatening a person was never a way to be.

I’d been there and done that, and

all the while–all I had to learn

was to walk through my fear….

What I had not known was that

I had already done it over and over,

and in the process,

I had developed my little dance,

during one or more of those


when you were not watching.

Or perhaps

when you

could not see.

I had learned to dance my little dance…

and so each day,

I still dance my little dance

And I try to be happy

Because life goes on and it

waits for absolutely nobody

I want to splash in the waves

and run in the sand

I want to dance my dance

and be threatened by


Posted in Womens Rights | Leave a comment

It all comes down to one point…

In the 'Purpose' workshop we participated in last night, we used a special deck of cards to find our 'gifts'.  The cards pictured here are my gifts and what I use and have used to accomplish my goal, which are also my 'gifts'.  ( / blue zones umpqua)
In the ‘Purpose’ workshop we participated in last night, we used a special deck of cards to find our ‘gifts’. The cards pictured here are my gifts and what I use and have used to accomplish my goal, which are also my ‘gifts’.

Not quite sure just why I am so worn out at the end of each day. I am not liking that I can not accomplish all that I want each day. LOL, I am not used to being slowed down. I wanted to write what is below last night and did not have the energy.

Yesterday’s class about ‘purpose’ confirmed for me that which I knew. I’ve known my purpose, such as it is, for a long, long time. We were given a shortened version of the workshop that the Blue Zone’s project workshop. If you live in Douglas County, then you qualify to take the workshop. (google: blue zones, Umpqua).

I am a person who has made for myself, many purposes. But, the end game for me has been for a long, long time – – expressing why (the argument), (especially) women and children need protection from abusive behaviors that are for the most part still condoned by society at large. Our country does a lot of lip service about protecting women and children. And there are a lot of compassionate, and honorable people out there trying to make a difference. But, there are just as many more willing to turn their heads, sweep under the rug, and deny what really goes on in the world, in their families, and to their children and grandchildren.

The trigger that led to this purpose was having a child hurt by my stepfather. I choose my child over everyone/anyone else in the family. I have been accused of betrayal because I chose my child. Hence, I have lost family to what I felt, and still, feel is right. It is a mighty painful price to pay, and having said that, the ‘pain’ from the situation keeps me writing about my situation, and what I learn from it. (The truth is all my children were touched in one way or another by this horrendous crime)

I hope I am healing wounds by writing what I write.  I know that I am working on healing my wounds, and I hope to prevent wounds in the future.  IF I accomplish any of the above, then I have brought joy (I hope) to someone, even if only to myself.
I hope I am healing wounds by writing what I write. I know that I am working on healing my wounds, and I hope to prevent wounds in the future. IF I accomplish any of the above, then I have brought joy (I hope) to someone, even if only to myself.

Of course, I have realized over the years, after years and years of education and picking up of the pieces, that domestic violence in my primary family played into and set us (kids) up for what happened in our family life as adults. And having said that the study of history and genealogy has led me to the conclusion that it is all generational — in other words, it is what we grow up knowing. Unless we educate ourselves about it, we are doomed to repeat it. George Bernard Shaw said that men are basically too stupid to learn from history. I beg to differ. All of us are capable of learning. Hence, my purpose.

I am one of many, many voices trying to change the future for women, children, men….. everyone and anyone who has felt the sting of a backhand, or the belittlement of a cruel statement, a threat of bodily harm, and the bruises from hands that one can not keep off another. Sexual abuse of any form. Everything I have done in my life since 1991 when I found out that MY child was hurt has come back down to this. Whether it is working to heal myself and my family, working to keep my children safe and healthy, writing for publications, including my own blog, studying history (all of it), or loving my genealogy. No one will ever silence me. Because it is increasingly apparent to me that it is going to take EVERY VOICE OF EVERY PERSON who is willing to make the changes in our culture that are needed.

My main gift has been apparent for forever now-- I loved to write essays in high school and went from that to Journalism.  As an adult, I have written letters to the editor, poems that have been published, writer and eventually editor of the Umpqua Trapper, and more....
My main gift has been apparent for forever now– I loved to write essays in high school and went from that to Journalism. As an adult, I have written letters to the editor, poems that have been published, writer and eventually editor of the Umpqua Trapper, and more…. I use my writing to accomplish all else.

I understand that friends and family (some of them) wish that I would shut up. Just know that I can not and will not. It is a drive and passion that, I think, only one that fills my particular shoes can know. I am the mother of a person(s) who was hurt for a lifetime. I am the daughter of a person who considers themselves the biggest victim in the whole situation. I am a friend to many who simply do not understand the enormous consequences (i.e. mental and physical health) of generation after generation of violence in the family. The sad part is that I am nowhere near unique.

I am very, very good at researching.  In fact, I've been paid (a lot) to research.  Research is how I discovered what domestic violence is, it is how I learned what sexual abuse was, it's how I traced my roots, and it's how I put together stories for the Umpqua Trapper.  It is most definitely a gift.  All I am doing when I do it, is answering my own curiosity, and feeding myself.
I am very, very good at researching. In fact, I’ve been paid (a lot) to research. Research is how I discovered what domestic violence is, it is how I learned what sexual abuse was, it’s how I traced my roots, and it’s how I put together stories for the Umpqua Trapper. It is most definitely a gift. All I am doing when I do it, is answering my own curiosity, and feeding myself.

I am planting seeds. And I know it. I have known it for a long, long time. Everything else is an end to a means. All else helps to support the main purpose one way or another. My life has been a participant based, customized, education-that leads this person who is meant to make a difference at some point for someone. I’ve gotten practice in writing, public speaking, and just plain making my point. It all comes down to that. The only thing that will ever stop me, is when my life stops. And I hope when that comes, I will have said enough to someone(s) to have made a difference – for at least one abused child, or one abused wife / husband. Nuff said.

Blue Zones Project – Umpqua
 (541) 670-2305

Posted in Children, Children's Rights, Culture, General News, Health, History, Lifestyle, Mental Illnesses, Parent/Child Relationships, Political Crap, Sexual Assault, Womens Rights | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Parental Estrangements: Finish your mourning, Let Go, & Live!

I have been reading. It turns out that 1 in 10 families live with one sort of parent/child estrangement or another. People stay silent about it due to shame, guilt, and other reasons. I myself have kept reasonably silent about it. Only people closest to me know about what is going on in my life, at least with my kids. I am not at all quiet about the fact that I’ve not spoken to my mother in about 25 years now. That is a story that legally I should not share. But, suffice it to say that her side is that I betrayed her. My side is that I choose my seven-year-old daughter. It is impossible to betray a person who SAID, “I had to protect myself from ***** because I was afraid that he would divorce me and marry her.” ***** was a total of seven years old when the statement was made. My stepfather was 57 years old, and my mother was in her early 50’s. In her very sick thought process, though she probably never saw it in concrete terms (due to denial) she made my daughter the ‘other woman.’ This made a seven-year-old a threat to a 50 something-year-old. There was no comparison, and there was never an excuse for any kind of thought process that came to a deduction such as this. I could never in a million years betray that sickness. Not that I am incapable of the behavior, but that it is impossible for a daughter to betray a mother whose thought processes are so sick that she blames a child for behaviors that she can only honestly, blame on her husband who was a predator. It is impossible, betrayal is not possible–when you are placing the blame for a lost cause marriage on a seven-year-old child. So, this particular estrangement, while it is sad, and I have cried a lot over the years, is probably something for the better. We are at such an impasse, and she denies that she ever said the things she said. Emotionally, it is obvious that my mother is every bit as emotionally abusive as my father, and stepfather ever were.

Author & child, ca. 1985, Golden Gate Park, San Francisco.
Author & child, ca. 1985, Golden Gate Park, San Francisco.

I have kept quiet about the issues with the kids exactly because of guilt and shame. Even though, I know I did not do anything major wrong. In fact, even one of the daughters sent me a text and told me that no matter what happens, it’s not my fault. No explanations as to why I am being treated as I am. That is what is going on between ourselves and our 2nd oldest.

Let me just say now, before I move on, that I am sorry for the way things worked out. I would have approached the situation differently if I had to do it all over again. But, the end result would have probably been the same. As keeping a child away from an abusive mouth was the goal. Moving on….

With our oldest, the story is quite different. She said some things that caused red flags to fly. I decided to try and protect a child as best I could, and it bit me in the butt. I knew it would. I did not know what else to do. She is a confrontational type, and can have a mean mouth, and an attitude that if she’s right and angry then anyone else is in the room better sit down, shut up and listen. That attitude may work with others but it does not work with me. In fact, with me, that attitude has created a chasm. It has kept me at arm’s length (and others, including her newly adopted father) from her for years and years. Further, if I let the attitude stand in her treatment of me, then as I age, and become more vulnerable, then I dare say I don’t want to be under her care. We, I, love her with all our hearts, but when angered, which can be triggered easily, we avoid it at all costs, including changing our behavior in her presence and not talking about or saying things that might normally be said elsewhere.

The built in caption says it all… ca. 1991

The truth is, I’ve been afraid of her for years, because of her rough, tough, macho attitude. As I age, I’ve protected myself more and more by wrapping myself up with tools such as never being alone with the said child. The bottom line here is that I’ve seen this train wreck coming for years. In the long run, I do not harbor a lot of guilt about this other than perhaps, I could have chosen a better father for my children. And I wish I had known what domestic violence was when I was young. So much of this could have been avoided had I only had the education.

All in fun...
It was all in fun…

You know, I never considered myself a perfect mom. Just never happened. Never will.
One sees what they see, they hear what they hear, they mull the situation over and contemplate what the best way forward is. I have pretty much consistently done the best I could in each situation. My daughter knows that I put children’s safety first and foremost and if she’d think about it, considering that I was trying to protect a child from that harsh and angry mouth. (and only from that mouth). A mouth that had already done damage (according to what she told me, she did not realize it, else she’d never shared). No child deserves to be confused or manipulated (intended or not). So, my imperfect ways created a rift that will probably be life long.

And then there was Teddy R.
And then there was Teddy R.

Hence, a mourning process. One does not estrange themselves (purposely or accidentally) without emotional pain. When it comes to children, regardless of the reason for the estrangement the pain is in the extreme. Nothing in this life has ever hurt me more. And I’ll tell you, my father left our family when I was 16, and then he died when I was 21. As stated earlier my mother and I quit speaking 25 years ago, and my eldest daughter had already divorced me once before when she was around 12 years old. Emotionally, I’ve been through the wringer. But, nothing, and I mean NOTHING hurts as much as losing two kids to estrangement.

It took quite some time of mourning. This has been going on for about three years, perhaps longer. I have purposely not been timing it all, I don’t want to know. It just hurts too much. The mourning process has gone through the normal phases several times:
1. Denial and isolation; 2. Anger; 3. Bargaining; 4. Depression; 5. Acceptance.

The kids themselves may read this and laugh at the isolation part, but the truth is, when you do not share with others because of guilt and shame that makes it so that you are indeed, isolated. And while my husband has known since day one, and been very, very supportive–the isolation is still there. No one and I mean NO ONE, can feel the pain but me. And considering I am the one who has spent years and years with these kids (present husband is my 2nd and not the bio. father of the kids)—in my pain, I am utterly alone. I have been in and out of the anger part, too. Including the indignant, “how can they treat me this way?” That was an emotionally necessary phase to go through, but also a perfectly good waste of time. It doesn’t change anything, and the energy used could have been put to so much more efficient use. I’ve tried to bargain (and beg, and plead) with the kids, with the devil, with God, with my husband…. all to no effect. Another emotional necessity, total waste of time. Depression and me, well it just happens. This situation along with health issues that crept up on me have led me to drive away expecting to never come back alive. That was at the worst of it. I have dealt with long term depression over the kids. I believe that at the height of it, the struggle was in learning to finally let go. But, before I could do that, I had to return to mourning in a sort of way, this time as if they were dead. My children no longer walk in my world. They do not exist. They are no longer part of my thought process in terms of planning for the future– I have chosen to move forward without taking them into account for any part of my future. Firstly, they inherit nothing. When on my deathbed, they need not appear, for it would only torture me, and at that point, I’ll just want peace. Eventually, if I have my way we’ll sell our house and move far away, and they will not be informed where we (or I) will go. I do not want to be under their care when am old and fragile. And yes, husband is very aware of this attitude and agrees. I guess this whole process ended up with an acceptance in that there is nothing I can do about the situation, and nothing is going to change (ever as far as I can see), and so I might as well quit punishing myself, as it is not all my fault. In fact, most of it, if not all of it, is not my fault. I have children who need to grow up, and learn to communicate — depending on the child either they just need to learn new communication skills, or they need to think about what they say, and not say it out loud again, because if they are not going to change their ways, then they at least need to not admit to their mother what they said to the small child. It puts their mother in a very bad, bad spot–in that I will always choose the safety of a child, ANY child.

The last time I was estranged from my oldest, I waited until she was around 16 years old, and it then dawned on me that, I’d purposely chosen to stay in the same town so that when she was ready and able she could find me. I’d made a website dedicated specifically to her, a communication and invitation to come home. I went through all the same stages, in that I thought it through, and tried to figure out why, and I tried to bargain, beg and plead. I even legally tried to get her back. But at a point, I realized she was old enough to get what she wanted, and if she wanted me in her life she could choose to make contact. At that point, I lit a candle, and I said goodbye. I choose to move on.

Today, I have yet to light the candle, which I think will finalize the situation in my mind.
This time, I will light three. One for my mother, one for both daughters. In fact, maybe I will light six. Two others for other family members who are deceased, or that I am just not on good terms with because of the stress of these situations over the years. One for my own heart, and it’s healing, and a conscious renewal of health.

I’ll light these candles because emotionally it’s just time. But, I’ll also light those candles because of the physical toll this has taken on my body. One heart attack later, which was due specifically to the mourning process. I think this speaks volumes about how serious I have taken these situations, and also speaks to the very real and deep pain, I just need to let this go. For me to heal from this heart attack, I need to let go, and let myself live the most fully that I can with no more guilt, no more shame. It is time for me to stop the punishment and be best that I can be.

In a final note, to all the parents in similar situations, know… I feel your pain. There are websites (I very recently discovered) that are there for the specific reasons of supporting you. They have things for sale (if you wish) including self help books, and even memberships to supportive forums where you can talk to others in the same boat. But, there are even more FREE resources to help you through. In fact, it was through these free resources that I discovered that I was truly not alone, and that we parents who are estranged are a major portion of the population at large. Do not remain silent. Share your pain with others. Let go of the guilt and pain. Look for concrete ways to overcome and get on with your life. Light a candle, let it go, and move on before it kills you. Live your best life. If there is ever to be a reconciliation it will happen in it’s own time, when all parties are emotionally ready, and not before. Go outside and play!

Some search terms you may wish to put into any search engine (each is a link that will go through Google):

estranged parents blog, estranged family stories, how to deal with estranged child, estranged child birthday, accepting family estrangement,estranged child definition,family estrangement causes

Links to specific resources:

Psychology Today, The Persistent Pain of Parental Estrangement

PsychCentral, 5 Stages of Loss & Grief, Estranged from Your Adult Child? 5 Things You Can Do, For Parents of Adult Estranged Children

Huffpost, Children Who Break Your Heart: Some Expert Advice

Greater Good Magazine, How Parents Can Start to Reconcile with their kids

Posted in Cardiac Health, Children, Children's Rights, Estrangement, Health, Mental Illnesses, Uncategorized, Womens Rights | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Cardiac Health – the UNwanted Diagnosis

I have been given the diagnosis that most people just don’t want to hear.
My heart is in such good shape after having a heart attack, that I can drop dead at any moment. The heart doctor said he could not believe how good I look considering how sick I am. The only treatment known to work for what I have is losing the weight, and exercise. Of course, I’ll be medicated and medicated. Right now, I’d be happy to be rid of the constant chest pain, and pain in my shoulders and arms (angina).

Genetics plays into this. Stress from family members (i.e. KIDS, now), Childhood Abuse (ACE – 7+) all play into this. I’ve told more than one person that this is all a result of a broken heart, and I’ll tell you what, I kid you not.

But what makes me unhappy is not the situation in and of itself, I knew it was coming eventually. But, I do not consider myself old, and I have tried to take care of myself including going mostly vegan over three years ago. I just don’t understand why, no matter what I have done to protect myself (No smoking ever, No drinking, No wild life, No drug abuse history) I have not managed to protect myself. I’ve been taking statins since the day they hit the market. I started taking Metformin before I went Diabetic. I went Diabetic after a neighbor from hell stalked me enough that I became a prisoner in my own home. I could not work in the yard anymore. I quit moving. Some of this IS on him. He a drug addict and mostly broke, or I’d sue the shit out of him. (Kelly Roper, Myrtle Creek)

This is basically a rant. I got a diagnosis that I do not want, and that I will fight until I can’t fight anymore. No one wants to live more than I. My life is not miserable much. LOL.

OK, I’m done. For now… Diagnosis, Class I (can go up to Class III) Ventricular something or other. I’ll probably be looking at cardiac rehab really soon. I need to move closer to the hospital.

Posted in Cardiac Health, Health, Just Jabber, Lifestyle | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

PTSD, & Anger – The Treatment of Women

Warning: There is explicit details in this essay. IF your stomach is queasy then do not go here. If rape is a touchy subject for you, do not go here.

Well, a new thought to share with my therapist. Can my own intense anger over one thing be a trigger for what is certainly a PTSD related trauma – and also a totally unrelated issue that I lived through years ago? And with that question, I have to say, I was unaware that I was still this intensely angry after all these years.

You know, being kicked from the historical society as I was, has left me intensely angry. The people who did the ‘dirty work’ made up reasons to justify asking me to step down. The truth is, I think, is that I began to realize that I was seeing unethical behavior and was saying something.
I was becoming a whistle blower and they had to see it coming. Yesterday, one of those people contacted my significant other (2nd husband) and asked him via text for information. He had to ask me for it which he waited until bedtime to ask for. Which of course, triggered the anger at bedtime. A time when we are supposed to be settling down, and trying to sleep. To them I say: I am not going to share any information with you, ever, period.

So, getting kicked to the curb for no good reason is one reason to be really really hurt and angry. But why for heavens sake would it remind me of my ex husband and his stupidity? I really have no clue unless – the intense anger is something that was produced from both situations.

When my ex and I were first married in the early 80’s…newlyweds, and that is no stretch, he came to me over a series of days and had me do certain things and told me certain things. For some reason I was to dress a certain way so that he could parade me around down town Cincinnati. I never quite understood that one. I did not like it in the least. I was embarrassed because at that point in my life, I was very, VERY modest. He came home from work (as a security guard) from the Cincinnati Enquirer and let me know that someone there thought I was a beautiful woman and wanted to take nudes of me. He wanted me to do it. I did not want to. Eventually, he didn’t want me to, and turned the guy down. To this day, I am not sure why the ex had the change of heart, but I have wondered since if he were not just plain full of shit. Maybe there really was no such person? During this time period, ex also came home from work, from the Cincinnati Enquirer and asked me to sleep with another couple with him. He wanted to ‘wife swap.’ I said no, and there was some intense pressuring. I did not even know in those days that that sort of thing went on. I was really that naive. So, part of the answer to the problem was that he started buying Forum magazines so I could read them and see what other people do. I guess, he thought it was time to educate me. It was also during this same time period though, I do not remember why it happened back then, that he first uses the technique of sleep deprivation to get what he wanted from me. If I said no, he just kept me up all night, rattling on and on about why he or we should do something, until I said yes. Back in those days, before the birth of children, and being young — he could have kept me up for a week, and I’d still said no. But, the abuse had begun. Even though I had no clue that it was abuse at the time. This was the phase in my marriage where I lived with objects being stuck up inside of me for his personal delight, and to my pain. The most memorable was of the night of the coke bottle. A coke bottle is no dildo if you get my drift. I said ok because I had no clue that I could say no. In those days, in my reality, man and a wife, alone, the wife gave it her all and stayed in that miserable place for the rest of her life. The bottle was very, very painful, and it brought tears to my eyes, and I tried my damndest to suck it up and stay silent, but complete silence did not come. It killed me when he asked me if it hurt, and through my tears (not so silent) I answered no–and he was so callous as to not see or hear through my denial. I was a very good wife, I suffered on for YEARS! Nearly 20 of them.

Fast forward about 14 of those years. I have either filed for divorce or about to and he knows it. I encourage him to date and move on, all the while staying and trying to work it out. Letting him go about his business is part of how at the time I was trying to help him not feel so hampered and controlled. After all those years, I agreed to an open marriage. While I agreed in principle, I never thought about a spouse swap. For me it just was not in the cards. In my mind we’d each just date who we wanted, and I had not realized the jealousy that would come into play. But he came to me, and told me he met a couple and she was HOT, and he wanted her, and he wanted me to sleep with the husband so that he (my husband) could sleep with her. I said no. I said no because while I knew them to, and thought she was gorgeous, he on the other hand gave me the creeps, and I wanted nothing to do with him. I could not have been clearer why I was saying no.

If I recall right this was one of those issues where he wanted what he wanted and he kept me up all night telling me all the reasons why we should. Now, I had an 8 year old, and a 3 year old. I was working night shift, and I was packing and getting ready to move 2000 miles to the east. At 4 am. I finally said yes, so that he’d leave me alone and let me sleep.

I did not know it at the time but, he must have that day or the next, or at least soon thereafter, approached the husband and tried to convince him to swap wives with him.

Now, husband in the couple did have a female African Senegal that appeared to be in great shape, but lonely. She kept laying eggs. I had a male, who had been obviously lonely for his own kind. He literally cried the most mournful cries. Knowing I could not take him when we moved, I’d been on the look out for a home. I gave the bird to them, in hopes that it would be happier there than with us. The husband of the couple called me and asked me to come over and look at the birds. They had laid an egg together and he wanted me to see. It was the middle of the day, I had no clue the man was alone at home, I packed up my 3 year old and around the corner we walked.

He answered the door and invited me in. He took me to the room where the birds were and showed my 3 year old the backyard where he could play. Once the boy was just outside the open sliding glass door the man informed me of what my husband had come to him, and what he had proposed, and how he felt about it. I’ll never EVER forget what he said. “He is not going to have my wife, but I am going to have you.” And it started.

My child was now on the patio, still close too the house, and so I would not scream or make noise because I did not want to alarm the child. I said no, I tried to fend him off physically, but I would not scream. When he could not take my clothes down to the level he wanted he grabbed my hair and forced my face into his crouch and demanded that I perform orally. I wish today, I had thought to bite him. But, even if I had thought of it, I probably wouldn’t. I had no interest in my son seeing or hearing a thing. I did not want him to be affected by this ugly scene.

The man’s penis had something on it. To this day I don’t know if it was moles, or warts, or just what kind of growth it was. But it was gross. The sight and situation made me nauseous. Actually, it still does, and to this day, I can not get that image out of my mind. So obviously, I do not want to think about it and I have been running from it. At least until this morning, I was still actively pushing this scene away—25 years later. These moments are from 1994. (2019-1994=25! I just checked with the calculator)

So, the bottom line, I am not sure if it was rape in that there was no penetration to my private parts, but I can tell you, it most definitely was forced and unwanted, and fought. When it was over, and I was released, I scooped up my little boy and walked back around the corner to the home where we were staying. It was the home of his Uncle and Aunt who lived on Glenwood Street in Fremont. They may have been understanding had I confided. But, we will never know. I was a master of keeping these things to myself. But to this day, I associated that rape or attempted rape, with the all night torture ritual of keeping me awake until he got permission for what he wanted. I told my soon to be ex about it. Nothing happened. There was no offer of reprisal of any kind. It was after I was long gone that the two men met up at our daughters former elementary school, and dear ex husband claimed that they shook hands and he squeezed the offenders hand very hard so that he was aware that ex was aware and angry. According to the ex, the offender turned tail and ran. If the husband from the couple did turn tail and run it was probably because he didn’t want his wife to know what was going on.

It was the end of a marriage, and there were head games, and harassment. My intelligence was insulted over and over again. In order to make up, one of the things I wanted was for my ex to take responsibility for his behavior. I had known he’d cheated on me years before. I had finally just realized that it was indeed stepping out, and that he’d brought home an STD to me. That is what had happened. All he had to do was admit it, and apologize, and offer to try to not go down that road again. And he had to do that, without laying the blame on me. Instead, he said he’d talked to his mom, and his mom told him to never admit it. I knew that was an admission, but the lack of taking responsibility for his actions was in my mind an insult to my intelligence, and I was not going to stay where those types of head games were still going on.

While living in the home of the aunt and uncle it became clear to me that head games were part and parcel of his family of origins dirty laundry. His uncle was relentless with the headgames, and so was his cousin. The whole situation was demoralizing, and crazy making. His aunt (who was the blood relative from family of origin) was an angel, and very, very kind. But, she was also aloof working hours a day, and coming home and pretty quickly retreating to her bedroom. Though, she treated me with the utmost of kindness. I had already been told that there was marital problems between said aunt/uncle. And cousin was addicted to drugs and a thief. She stole a quilt that I had hand embroidered and put together for my son, shortly after I showed it to her. She stole a brand new rag doll that I had bought myself as a special present to myself for my efforts in life. No doubt they were traded for drugs. The disrespect and crazy making for the most part was suffocating. The sad part, is that, my sister and mother were less than 10 miles away. That whole situation in my own family of origin was so sick, that I could not call them for help or support.

My family of origin is quite dysfunctional. Hence, I married into the familiar-and tried to stay in the marriage until ‘death do us apart’.

This is what came flooding into my mind this morning while in the midst of being intensely angry about the historical society. Did the anger over the historical society trigger the memories? I would have to answer that one in the affirmative. I just find it hard to make the connection.

I have known that I was angry about the deafening disrespect shown to me by my ex. Over the years it built up to where if I had been a snake I would have bit him. IF I were a snake, I’d chosen to be a Cobra and I’d spat in his face—aiming for the eyes. I was angry. Yes, Yes, Yes…

I am not sure I ever felt any anger over the rape until possibly this morning as the memory came rushing back. In order to protect my son at the time, my automatic reaction was to keep quiet and hold any feelings in. It was most certainly, survival mode that I was in at the time. When I told my ex about it, there were no tears– it was just the facts. I was 1001% disconnected from my insides.

So obviously, even if we decide that we are NOT going to be angry person, and not take it out on those around us, and not let it affect our hearts, there is more than a conscious mind at play, and we are not in 100% control of what we do and how it affects us. 25 years later, I am just now feeling the real and intense anger in such a way that I can identify where it comes from and why.

I never got an apology from anyone. I pretty much lost my mind for awhile after that scene. No one knew why. They still do not know why.
And yet, I am the one that was “no angel” — I am the one in the wrong. I did the rejecting, I filed for divorce.

Over the years he brought home STDs, and filled my body and mind full of things that were just obscene. He expected me to perform acts that I had no interest in, and very often led me to tears. I lived through cracked and broken teeth created by being hit on the face and bruises from being hit elsewhere. Before it was all over, I was fairly sure he’d sexually assaulted his sister before we met or were married. I had lost all respect, if there was ever any to begin with.

Again – I get to make a point, that until we walk in the other person’s shoes we know not what their experience may have been, or what they have lived through.

The disconnect between the perpetrator and his feelings of shame must be something the size of the Grand Canyon. The disconnect the perpetrator causes in their victim and her shame while it may seem to not exist, is real, and life threatening. I was suicidal and was 51-50’d at this time. I thought it was because I had filed for divorce that I was suicidal. That is what I told the doctors. The truth is, that it was probably more over the rape, and the headgames, and the shear years of piled on disrespect and disconnection.

In these days of #MeToo, women are looking for acknowledgement, apologies, respect, and probably some retribution. I get it. I am a textbook case of a person assaulted as a child and that situation setting me up for assault after assault after assault my entire adult life. It is typical history for a woman in modern America. Peace even when it comes, still has the pain and memory of the violence from the past.

And the fallout keeps coming. My son has a pretty bad case of PTSD. How much of that came from that day 25 years ago….where he probably heard and saw the unbearable and what should have been unseeable and unhearable. A mother’s secret is about to become known…


Posted in Children's Rights, Health, History, Mental Illnesses, Parent/Child Relationships, Sexual Assault, Uncategorized, Womens Rights | Leave a comment

Broken Hearts…

It is true, I could never, ever hate my kids. But, I can sure not like them, and not like the things they say and do. And I never have to be sorry about that.
It is true, I could never, ever hate my kids. But, I can sure not like them, and not like the things they say and do. And I never have to be sorry about that.

Nothing, and I mean NOTHING can break a heart faster than a child can. I’m not talking about a young child, I’m talking about an adult child who you love with all your heart. Said child(ren) has grown up fairly arrogant and think they know absolutely everything, and that you (their parent knows nothing at all). The children are in their 30’s now, living their lives, and doing their thing, and you are happy for them. Suddenly it dawns on you that you are getting older, you are beginning to feel vulnerable in the world, and the kids are the people you kind of think might be there for you when you get older and can’t anymore.

I have discovered it was all a dream. And not a very realistic one at that. My older kids show about as much compassion as the perpetrators in their life showed them. As you might realize that means just about naught. There is no empathy. No attempts to try and walk in our shoes. No apologies. Not even, “I’m sorry you feel that way” —which doesn’t admit anything, but shows a tad little bit of compassion. I do feel let down. I’ve been to court for my kids and fought and fought and fought for them. I don’t expect much from them, as they have proven that I dare not. But, I never expected a proverbial kick in the teeth either.

For my oldest, I worked with the detectives and d.a. and got a perpetrator thrown in jail. I complained to anyone that would listen (senators, congressmen, judges, sheriffs, district attorney, police….) trying to make sure he did not get out on her 8th birthday. That was to no avail. But, I tried.

I fought to keep them safe from their father, that I eventually realized was abusive. I fought and fought and fought for them. At this point they agree that he was abusive. So, abusive that he took her and ran for about six years. When I found them each time, and made it known that I wanted to check on my child, he picked up and ran again. And I do mean, he’d pull her out of school that day to run. Literally.

My 2nd one down whom became the third one down after an adoption is bi polar and autistic. At ages 4, & 5 (approximately) he’d come home repeating the things he heard his father say before the father ran. Through tears I heard how “daddy is going to kill you, mommy, and throw you in the desert where no one can find you….and then Tina is going to adopt me.” Kids this age just do not make this stuff up. He could barely pronounce adoption….he was really just a little guy. And he was already showing signs of having issues… he needed absolutely Zero percent of this abusive treatment from his father. Between his mental illness, and his treatment by his father, and hate to say it, treatment by any man I have tried to have a relationship with, they single him out, and really treat him like shit. So, he too, has grown up with a lot of problems, and again, I have fought and fought and fought for him. I.E.P, Child protective services, etc…. I gave him up to the state to get him treatment when I could not longer control him. That was an absolute painful act of love. It was one of the hardest things I ever did in my life. But at the time, I was worried that I was raising ‘Charlie Manson #2’ — something had to be done.

My adopted one. Now the #2, is someone that I felt very special for.
For me she was in a class all of her own. And you talk about side blinded. I never saw today coming. Not in the least. I think because of her, she is where most of my heartache, my heart break comes from.

With my oldest, its easy to see she’d picked up a lot of anger along the way. A LOT of anger. She is dysfunctional to say the least. A functional dysfunctional. But, between her anger and her arrogance (both of which comes from father and prior step mother attitude) — it is what drives her on in life. I knew we would reach a point where I could not live with it anymore. I reached my point. Where she basically attacked me over social media, and disrespected me and my husband in our own home. And she is not capable of even saying, “I’m sorry you feel that way mom.” That is the sad part for me.

A literal broken heart, ….. that is what my kids have given me.

For months now, I have been telling my significant other that I have a broken heart. When drs. started realizing that there is something wrong with my heart, I’ve been telling them that I have a broken heart. No one heard me until today. My cardiologist was looking yet again at my stress test. His answer today was, “You know, you just might be right, I think you’ve had a heart attack.” My answer, “Dr. I have never been diagnosed with a heart attack.” So, now we get more tests, I am waiting to be scheduled now. I need more blood work, and IF I have had a heart attack then, I need different kind of medical care. But, the doctor showed me on the pictures the dead part of my heart. I saw it with my own eyes. And I am pretty sure now, with thought, that I know just when it happened.

I know, exactly when it happened. When I was hurting the worst over those two angry girls, my 1st & 2nd. I have decided at this point, that we’ll probably never make up. Either way, the pain is real and it is there.
Neither of them realize just how much of me, is invested in them.
I don’t think I could make up now, if I wanted to. I’d be afraid they’d be willing to be just as compassionate and sympathetic — caring as they have been these past couple of years. The truth is, if I were to go through it again, they’d probably kill me. Other than the fact, that I had to learn to let go (again)….. I just can’t go through that again. They are too willing to be very hurtful. I am not willing to hurt. Although, I have to say, my heart will be broken and will hurt literally, for the rest of my life.

I do not hate them, I simply can’t take the pain. I am worn out. I have fought all my life in a kind of survival mode, first for myself as an abused child. My father raped me and had a lot of fun torturing me. Then raped again (In every conceivable way) by the first husband. Then again, by a boyfriend….his was mostly emotional and mental manipulation but it is just as bad as any physical abuse. While this is going on, I’m fighting for my kids.

Today I fight with hubby #2, over the kids. The crap never ends. There is a good chance that we’ll be going our separate ways, as I just can not take the stress anymore. period.

I have let go. I love all my kids, but I will not let them walk all over me or abuse me. Since at this point, there is no trust, and probably never will be again, in my mind I basically have two kids now. Now I put the ink to paper to try as a way of releasing the the harmful and unhealthy mush that has been holding me down literally for years. I can’t live with it anymore. I have to let it go.

At the same time, I can finally get it out, and say it out loud, I find out that I literally do have a broken heart. And I told the doctor it is probably because of my kids. And I have been saying it for months. Probably a couple of years now. I hope they are happy, that they literally, laid on the last straw that broke their mothers physical heart.

The bottom line, how they make me feel, after all that was done for them. Do I expect anything from them? Not really, nothing but a little respect. And I’ll never feel that I am wrong. RESPECT ~
Posted in Parent/Child Relationships, Womens Rights | Tagged | Leave a comment

Ethically Speaking, Part II, An Expansion of Truths

Clothing donated to DCHS from the Lane Family used to ‘protect’ steamer trunk from paint tools.

NOTE: I received a note from the Oregon Department of Justice yesterday.  In the note I was encouraged to get the word out about these issues via social media, blog, news outlets, AND by addressing the membership of the Douglas County Historical Society.  This essay will be distributed accordingly. 

State of Oregon – Oregon Department of Justice
100 SW Market St. Portland, OR 97201-5702
Oregon Department of Justice Ellen F. Rosenblum,
Attorney General
1162 Court Street Salem, OR 97301

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

DOUGLAS COUNTY HISTORICAL SOCIETY, Nonprofit, 501-c-3, aka DCHS. P.O. BOX 2534, Roseburg, OR 97470
EIN: 930495047

Until about two weeks ago, I was President of this organization and had been for about two years. I had approximately two more years to go on my term. Approximately two weeks before that, or so, I’d been diagnosed as having heart failure. However, the doctor was not a cardiologist. I let the Vice President, K** D*********; know about the diagnosis, because I thought he should know. I specifically asked him in an email not to tell anyone else, as I was still dealing with the news, and wasn’t ready to deal with others yet. I soon discovered that he called everyone on the board and told them. They decided that they had to help me with my chores.

Prior to diagnosis I was well aware of the fact that I was overwhelmed. Over the past 13 or so years with the historical society, I had taken on more and more responsibilities. Some of them were things that I loved to do, like write for the Publication, the Umpqua Trapper. But other responsibilities were taken as others on the board got older, sick and couldn’t do their jobs anymore, or they just flat out wanted to retire. I saw my term as President as my chance to get folks trained properly in what needed to be done at the historical society. At least to the best of my ability to teach, motivate, and yes, lead. I absolutely was aware of the need to fund raise, and increase membership numbers via activities that could attract folks to the historical society. I was aware that there was a lot of items that needed accessioning in properly (no one had done it since I’d been around), along with a whole slew of other things that just needed done in terms of keeping up a museum. My goal was to eventually have the Floed-Lane House receive accreditation from the American Alliance of Museums. I knew there was a big job that lay ahead of me and others. I knew that I wanted to approach these tasks ethically, legally, and even more important in the proper ways that helped to maintain and preserve the very rich past that is housed within both the walls of the Floed-Lane House, but also the ‘Annex’, a storage building behind the Floed-Lane House, aka Lane House, aka, The Douglas County Pioneer Museum.

As it turns out, I do NOT have heart failure. This is according to a cardiologist. I verbally tried to tell K**, but he wasn’t listening, and then I emailed him about it. What I do have is not life threatening, but it can be debilitating, as I have discovered. So, had K** kept this news to himself, perhaps things would be running smoothly, except for what I list below. Please note that everything can be proven via: minutes, agendas, photos, where applicable, notes, etc., email.

  1. Weed Eater: This is really a very small thing. However, in my mind it shows the mindset that is being dealt with the current board. Specifically as it pertains to the Vice President and a particular Director at Large: Months ago, I realized that a brand new weed eater that was bought with historical society funds from the general fund, and still in the box, specifically for the back yard at the Floed-Lane House, was gone. It had been removed from the box, and the box was left to lay. Eventually, within a week or two, the weed eater returned. Soon, I heard that the weed eater had been taken by a particular board member, and that she had used it on the yard of one of her rentals. What really bothers me about this situation is that this particular board member just returned from a week’s long vacation in Europe. This implies of course, that she can afford her own weed eater and that there was absolutely no need for her to put the wear and tear on one that was owned by the historical society. Now, I told the vice president about it, and he agreed that it was wrong. But he said it was no big deal, and that she was worth far more to the society than the weed eater. Of course, what bothers me about this is the mindset, and will either of them know when to stop, when it comes to property that belongs to the historical society.

 2.  Paint tools, etc., on an unprotected steamer trunk. Not long after the weed eater incident, I found a recently donated steamer trunk covered with paint tools. The steamer trunk was not protected in any way from the tools or potential of paint drips, etc. Probably only 10 feet away was a box of leaf and litter (garbage bags) that could have been used as a protective layer. However, in my opinion (and of that of a local peer who was aghast when she saw the photo) nothing should have EVER been put on top of that steamer trunk. I sent out an email to all board members. I did not name names, though; there were only two board members in charge of the labor (inmate work program) and painting. I asked that people stop working a little earlier so that they were not too tired at the end of the day to clean up properly. Judging from the reaction, I’d say that the same board member mentioned above, a Director at Large, female,  made the mistake. She ‘fixed’ the problem. She took a piece of clothing, also a donated artifact, and put it on top of the steamer trunk, and then put the tools on top of that. As of the last time I was in the Annex, the steamer trunk was still in this state, though I had already protested more than once. Please keep in mind, that this bothers me for these reasons: These items were donated by descendants of the General Joseph & Polly Lane family. This family trusts the Douglas County Historical Society to protect, preserve, and maintain those items. I see the treatment of that artifact, and others in the Annex as a slap in the face to that specific family who donated the items less than two years ago. They are in VERY GOOD shape I might add. I also see this as a lack of respect and slap in the face to the membership of the Douglas County Historical Society who not only trusts the board and volunteers but expects us to preserve, protect, and maintain the items for the future. You can take that last sentence and remove “membership” and put in its place, “citizens” of Douglas County. Yes, this whole thing makes me angry. (see photos)

 3.  An antique pancake turner was apparently used as a paint scraper. I first found the pancake turner in the bathroom sitting on the sink counter. It was clean, but did not belong there. I put it back into the utensil holder it came from. The next time I found it, it was in with the paint tools. This item is also a donation from the Lane Family descendants and came with and inside one of the steamer trunks. It is very appropriate that we keep these items according to DCHS mission statement. They had no right (they meaning the labor, or said Director at Large mentioned above, who was in charge at the time) to use said historical items as tools of this type. Had they asked me, I’d said, no and asked them how many scrapers they needed. I’d made a beeline to the hardware store! In fact, I’d been told we’d bought several scrapers much earlier in the job when we were still preparing to paint! (see photos) The problem with these two issues is that they came after the weed eater incident. And after, ,the Director at Large started paying for labor to get the Floed-Lane house painted, and AFTER she’d told Vice President she didn’t want anyone to know, and after he slipped up and gave the information to me. The information came during an conversation where again, he was telling me that the unprotected trunk and pancake turner incident were no big deal, and that Director at Large had donated so much at this point that we had to let it go. She was just too important to the organization. I see this view point as dead wrong and I have made it known. (Proof via emails) I cannot let this go. If she feels she can abuse an artifact like this, how in the world can we trust her in any other way? To me, what I see is a feeling of entitlement. She was upset that the board passed a policy that no equipment belonging to the historical society can be borrowed by anyone. She voted for it, apparently without realizing what is said. That should not have upset her in the least. The policy is common sense in my mind.

4.  Toe boards: DCHS (Douglas County Historical Society) – Some history. The deck on the lower porch on the Floed-Lane House needed replaced. An older member offered to pay for the job. Somewhat later, she said she wanted a certain contractor to do the work. The former President, John Robertson, approved of that. Well the ‘contractor’ was young and did a historically incorrect job, and didn’t bother to let anyone know how rotten the supports underneath the deck were. So, the society had to start all over. DCHS received a huge grant from the state of Oregon and the decking and supports were replaced in a historically correct way. The lumber from the brand new (First) decking was saved. Ideas have been tossed around for using it, picnic tables or back steps for the back door. The lumber was stacked behind the storage building. One day, a Saturday, when I was the volunteer docent that day, I was` opening up the Floed-Lane House I noticed a man taking boards from that lumber pile. I tell him to put them back. I had no clue what was going on, but no one was taking that lumber. The boss of the roofing job next door, at the Vice Presidents house came over and informed me that the Vice President said they could use the lumber for toe boards while they were on the job. There has been a discussion in the past of the boards being used for picnic tables or for back steps at the back door of the Floed-Lane House. Either way, they were not his personal property, he had NO right to tell that contractor to use the lumber, and he CAN absolutely afford to buy his own! (This man is the owner of Mobile Tune on the corner of Washington & Rose in Roseburg) This happened WEEKS after the weed eater incidence.

5.  Formation of the Board: Two days after turning in my keys to the society, after my husband made a remark about something he was unhappy about, in terms of the behavior of these people not listening to what was right about how to treat artifacts etc., I came to the realization that I basically let the Vice President stack the board just like a deck of cards! When I gave up the keys last week this was the board’s formation:

A. Peggy A. Rowe Snyder, President, Myself, voted in nearly 10 years ago first as Director at Large, then as Secretary by another board.

B. Kenneth Deatherage, Vice President, voted in by a previous board.

C. Carol Dudley, Treasurer, Mr. Deatherage’s book keeper at his business, Mobile Tune. Based on her statement to my husband, we know she feels her paycheck depends on her doing whatever Ken wants her to do. The question is, does this include a vote on issues before the board?

D.  Cynthia Rockney Wilson, Secretary, chosen and introduced by Ken Deatherage. (She was asked to leave the downtown association board for some reason, Ken promised to “keep her under control”)

E.  John Robertson, Director at Large, former President. (120% totally innocent of any of this) (and wasn’t contacted by anyone other than me and wasn’t asked for a vote on any matter)

F. Lois Deatherage, Director at Large, Ken Deatherage’s wife.

G. Clyde Snyder, Director at Large, my husband, voted in by a previous board. (also innocent of this stuff, mostly a witness to it)

H. Dale Greenley, Director at Large, chosen and introduced by Ken Deatherage. Whom I interviewed and still had 2nd thoughts about because of a past experience with a family member of his. Mr. Deatherage informed me prior to the vote that he had the votes to get him in, so I had to just get used to it. 

I. Nicholas Schaebert, Director at Large, suggested by myself. (120% totally innocent of any of this)

J. Maria Crince, Director at Large, Ken Deatherage’s wife’s best friend.

“This gives Mr. Deatherage a clear majority, if anyone feels obligated to him…

This gives Mr. Deatherage a clear majority, if anyone feels obligated to him. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that Ken Deatherage would abuse the power, as he has. It just never even dawned on me that he would. But when you fail to follow the by-laws that are filed with the state then you are breaking the law. Kenneth Deatherage can’t sight lack of experience, or knowledge, he sits on at least two other boards in Douglas County: 1. Salvation Army board in Roseburg, & 2. The Downtown Association Board (President). Surely he learned a few things along the way??

6. Abuse of Power: Within a couple of weeks of hearing the news that I had ‘heart failure’ Ken Deatherage, Dale Greenly, and Maria Crince had put together an ‘Executive Committee’. Keep in mind that according to the by-laws, the President makes committees and assigns people to them (unless I am mistaken), and I had tried to do this, and no one followed through on what was asked of them. This committee called a meeting and informed me that I needed help, and Maria asked that I make a list of things that I needed help with. Ken asked me to drop off the mail key to Carol Dudley. (Turns out he’d given his copy to her already). I am a slow thinker, in that things need time to percolate in my brain. Things did not hit me until after the meeting, hours and even a couple of days later. But during this meeting, I was told to not talk to anyone on the board anymore about any of my concerns. My messages were not ‘palatable’. After nearly 25 years with historical societies, I cannot believe that I was EVER not palatable. But, I had used the word “boundaries” when I spoke about the unprotected steamer trunk. There is an email to prove it, but, yes, I said someone clearly had boundary issues. According to Ken, I ‘triggered’ someone. Personally, considering the disrespect shown to the donors of the artifacts, and supporters in general, I don’t care if I ‘triggered’ someone. I was also told that Ken had talked to a lady that a former board had kicked off a prior DCHS board due to unethical behavior and for fear of artifacts coming up missing. Dale Greenly is a cousin of this lady and was obviously advocating for her, and stated she’d run these types of organizations before. Ken Deatherage had me know that she was going to be welcomed back to the historical society, despite a previous boards decision, and without a vote. Her name is Charlotte Eggleston. During that same meeting, Ken also made it clear that the committee had decided that Bernie Woodard would be welcomed into the society. I had already given a flat out NO to Bernie. He is a convicted felon. A neighbor to the Floed-Lane House believes he is a ‘white collar criminal’. I have researched Bernie Woodard and showed the research to fellow board members. The previous board wanted nothing to do with him. Again, this welcoming was decided with out a vote. Since this time, Ken has informed me that they only wanted a sign that Bernie was willing to give the Floed-Lane House. Again I said NO. I contacted the McLaughlin House in Oregon City and asked them if Bernie had ever worked for them, and had they given the sign (some piece of chimney off the McLaughlin house) to him as he claimed. They emailed me back and let me know they’d never worked with him, and never associated with him. I deduced from the answer they never gave him the chimney piece either. So, my NO to taking the sign (chimney piece) was fear of ‘receiving stolen property’. I don’t want the Douglas County Historical Society associated with that man or his history in any way, shape or form!

7. I wrote Ken then and told him with Charlotte coming back, and at the time I thought Bernie was being brought in, and between that and the abuse of the artifacts, and that no one thought they were important that I was ready to step down as President. And I wrote that the moment Bernie stepped in, I was stepping out. And I meant it. During this same meeting, mentioned above, Dale Greenley informed me that a box of newspapers should go to the other museum. Our mission clearly states that ALL Oregon History is within our pervue, that box of newspapers belongs with the society if it so chooses and NO one person should make that decision, unless they are a trained collection manager!

8. Days later, Ken called me; I gave the phone to my husband. Among other things my husband was told that at this point, if I did not step down, they’d vote me out. I had to this point, nothing wrong except perhaps say one unpalatable word. I had not yet missed one meeting. I had missed one of my docent days. ONE! Thirteen years of service, NO complaints, and a LOT of hard work, taking classes to be sure I am doing stuff right, writing two major grants, and this is what I get for trying to do things right! I had refused to attend a meeting, called by “3 or 4 people”. They were not telling me why the meeting was being called, it was originally called by the secretary which was not according to by laws, and I told them the person who should call the meeting, if I am uncapable (and I was NOT), &  it needed to be done properly. But, maybe this is why I was to be thrown off the board, because I refused to sit and listen to them tell me about all the wrong I was doing, when I was NOT. Ken let my husband know that it was time to return all DCHS property to the Annex including the keys. So, basically, I was removed without a vote by the board. For no reason whatsoever in my mind.

9. So three or four people decided that I didn’t belong on the board. Ken Deatherage because my opinions and legitimate concerns were not “palatable”. Cynthia probably because I triggered her, and because obviously she thinks she should be allowed to do as she pleased, because she NEVER corrected the clothing being used as protection problem on the steamer trunk to my knowledge. And Dale Greenly because I had the audacity to send the whole board an email voicing my concerns about Charlotte Eggleston which are as follows:

A. We would be breaking a former’s board’s precedent, and ignoring their very valid concerns.

B. It looked to me like Ken was making this a command decision, and there really was no vote yet.

C. At the time, Charlotte had told me to print a message in the Umpqua Trapper, “from the President” and in his name, John Robertson, without John’s permission. She had given a box of genealogical stuff to the local Genealogical society without anyone else’s knowledge or permission, and I saw it returned, so I know it happened. I had been told that she had brought in an appraiser, when that is unethical. She either attempted to sell or promised to give a sewing machine away. There is a confederate money(s) that may be missing. Board members at the time had NO clue what all had happened and what was missing that is how far out of control they felt at the time.

D.  I also stated that had Charlotte really run a historical society, she would have not done the things she did simply because what she did, did not follow proper museum protocol (accessioning in AND OUT). And with these concerns, I honestly, don’t see why anyone would take a chance. Yet, when my husband delivered the keys to the Annex, Ken had Charlotte in the Annex, and it looked like an interview to my husband. We figure she’s on the board at this point. Which gives her unlimited power to throw things away, which is something she told me she did. Which might have been fine, if she had followed proper protocol.

At this point, if our collections are audited, we’d never pass the audit.

…”she told Clyde that she had to do whatever it was the Ken asks of her, because her paycheck depended on it. Does her paycheck depend on her vote(s) as well??”…

  1. 0. Last but not least, While dropping the mail key off to Carol Dudley, my husband Clyde made a remark, it was probably meant to be humorous knowing him. Carol’s answer however spoke volumes. Not a direct quote however she told Clyde that she had to do whatever it was the Ken asks of her, because her paycheck depended on it. Does her paycheck depend on her vote(s) as well?? I do not know at this point, if any of these people, have broken any laws severely enough to be looked at. I know if I sat in an official’s seat in Salem, I’d want to look further.

Please note that when it comes to the protection of history, I am and have been for years and years, very passionate about not only the protection, but also preservation, conservation, maintaining in an ethical, honest, transparent, and absolutely legal way! I know that there are several people out there that would back up that statement whole heartedly. Thank you for your time. Please note that I do have emails, notes, agendas, minutes, etc. to help to prove nearly all if not all of what I say here.

Thank you for your time, Peggy A. Rowe Snyder
Former President, DCHS, and now a VERY concerned citizen.
(P.S. I never officially resigned, and I still have no letter informing me that I have been voted out.)

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The Definition of Insanity: Hate & Intolerance

Please take note that I am talking about specific people that I have an awareness of.  Most of my writing comes from awareness of actual living conditions of someone. Often such people are close to me.  So, when I am saying anything, I may not name a name because truly, I don’t want to make any bad situation worse. I simply hold the situation up to the light, hoping that others will not fall into the trap of thought that creates the arrogance that surrounds these attitudes of intolerance and hatred. 

My children, specifically, my three biological children were raised on the idea that when they grew up, they would be able to research their spirituality, religious inclinations, sexuality, gender, or whatever it was (no matter what it was) for themselves, and that I would not try to sway them.  My idea was that they’d decide for themselves what was important to them because for whatever reason, they’ve researched it or lived it, whatever.  My hope of course, that they’d make good sound decisions for themselves.  

I have watched all three grow up to be non-believers.  Each for their own set of reason(s).  I do not fault them for it.  The youngest two were taken to and participated in church services in Geyserville, Sonoma County, CA at Geyserville Christian Church.  A church that I could live with, be active in, and be proud of for it’s inclusive nature, loving stance, and non-hypocritical themes.  I do believe with all of my heart that they got some ‘good stuff’ from those experiences.

The kids were made aware that I was raised by a non-practicing 7th Day Adventist, and avid atheist.  The kids and I also attended 7th Day Camp meetings, and other of the same type of gatherings with friends, family, etc.

And while in no way, did I force the christian outlook onto the kids, neither did I insist they believe the dogma.  I simply stated that due to my childhood circumstance it was a fight to believe in God, but it made me feel better and comforted when I did.  Nothing was crammed down their throat by me, and specifically, that is because of my very own experiences as a young person.

The oldest child was stolen away from me for six years.  Father took her and ran, and hid away.  When I found an address, usually they’d already moved on, but if they had not, and I made a move to contact said child, they’d pick up and leave.  I had absolutely no involvement with her life. And this was NOT by choice.  The courts were warned that this would happen, and as far as I am concerned, they let it happen.

During this child’s time away, she grew up, and became a person that I really did not know.  She was exposed to Catholic tradition, which in and of itself, I do not see as a bad thing.  But, her distaste (i.e. intolerance, hatred)  for all things Christian leads me to believe something NOT good happened there. 

It would have been OK if oldest said she didn’t approve of youngest’s boyfriends family.  Youngest might have taken it under advisement.  Personally, I see nothing wrong with this family, and I do see an attitude of prejudgment from older daughter that frightens the bajesus out of me when I think of young people being around her. 

If oldest would have made her statement and left it alone, perhaps she might have even gotten her way, because she wouldn’t have been nagging and threatening the youngest, and causing youngest to rebel even more (which at her age, she’s going to do—it’s her age, duh!)

But the matter was forced from what I hear, with a lot of anger mixed in which in all reality made older daughter look irrational, jealous, arrogant, full of hate, and intolerance.  In fact, in her mother’s eyes, she has become the epitome of the extremist christian view only on the other side of the wall.  And she can’t even blame the middle of the ground faith of her mother for it.  She can only blame herself for falling for an extremest, hateful, and intolerant view point.  (Not all Christians are bad people,  and YOUR attitude is far less loving, than most Christians I’ve ever met.  And before you say you don’t care how I feel, let me just say, YOU ABSOLUTELY KNOW BETTER THAN THIS!)

The kids WERE warned to stay away from the fundamentalists, and extremest, as we didn’t need any more of those in this world, no matter which side of the argument they stood on.  And on an aside, I know I have mentioned at least to one of them, that they needed to be careful that they didn’t fall to an extreme attitude in the exact opposite direction of the christian fundamentalists and or any other type of extremists. 

Now, the people I am talking to right now, had at least two situations going on.  I’ve done a basic introduction to the one situation I’m going to write about.  But, I also want to mention that animal abuse is also involved with this story, and as far as concerned, now that the animal is under my care,  ALL  parties involved are as guilty of animal abuse.  The accusers were under as much moral and ethical obligation to take care of the animal as the ‘owner’, because the animal was in their home and they were watching the neglect happening and doing absolutely NOTHING except ragging on the owner: a 19 yr. old who has discovered (finally) that life and the world is FUN!  Either way, at this point, my stance on this situation is that this animal better never leave my home again.  Ridiculous is an understatement.  I’m not sure but we are looking at a chargeable offense right now.   What this animal has been through is more than neglect, it was down right mean.  Nuff said.  (I may post photos of said animal, it is sad and tragic.)

Back to the original subject of this essay.  Part of the reason said young person was kicked out of her living space (a room in an older siblings home that a boyfriend owns) is because she is seeing a young man whose parents are christian.  Participating christian in that they go to church, and apparently at least try to walk the walk and talk the talk.  I’ve never met them, but I can say, I’m very impressed by their child, and their home.  Oldest daughter and boyfriend ordered youngest daughter to stop seeing boyfriend because his parents were trying to to convert her.

And my answer to that is, “SO!?!?!?!?!?!”  Really!!!!??? Older child needs to take a step back and listen to those around her, and more than anything else, listen to herself.  She is espousing arrogance, hatred, and intolerance.  If she had a conversation with herself, and really, really listened, she’d know, she’s wrong.

There are people out there who are ‘very’ christian and are VERY GOOD people.  There is a mixture of both good and bad in every sort of human group imaginable.  But, do you hate one whole group because of one bad person?  Yes, there are stupid people out there, but does that mean that they are not sincerely trying to live a good, honest, compassionate life?

I think what is the most important in this case is that these people are loving, supportive, compassionate, involved.  Their child has been so well directed in his childhood that he’s looking at possibly becoming a nuclear engineer and you honestly think he’s not good enough for your sister?
OH, give me a break!  If someone is not good enough for another, it’s probably that you are not good enough for your own boyfriend!

The judgement that has been rendered is short sided and woefully, prejudice based on personal experiences (which were not good), and incredibly hurtful.  Oldest daughter was taught to live and let live.  Her mother NEVER tried to control her in anyway, even when said daughter, decided that Wicca was her thing.  Did I agree with it? I am open to the earth based religions only because of their tie to the planet, and the ancient human cultures.  I’ve never practiced it to any degree, and no, I do not believe for one minute that anyone can be a witch, not even a good one.  I saw said child as confused due to her very bad childhood experiences (which I had no control over).

One final paragraph to said daughter’s boyfriend:  Look at what your young daughter has now been exposed to and tell me this is NOT going to hurt her in the future.  How long do you think it is going to take before that mouth and attitude has found it’s way to being directed at YOUR daughter???  This is obviously, at this point, not run of the mill anger being spewed out in your home.  Your daughter has a beautifully UGLY example of arrogance, hatred, and intolerance before her.  And you actually want her to learn this?  It’s one thing to instill your values, it’s another to encourage these traits.  And it’s another to leave her in a situation where you know this attitude can be turned onto her — that would be child abuse.  

—-an essay under construction….

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Fallacy #2 & #3: Argument by Authority, Fallacy of Omnipresence

Trump on Twitter on Feb. 6, 2017.
“I call my own shots, largely based on an accumulation of data, and everyone knows it. Some FAKE NEWS media, in order to marginalize, lies!”

Trump is answering a question there believe it or not. Obviously not with the facts that might give proof of an argument showing that the facts that might have showed that he had some way to prove what he says. He is explaining that his opinions and actions are correct because HE calls the shots. Instead of providing proof for a fact that he was asked about he says if the guy in charge says it, then it must be true.

It is another fallacy of argument called: Argument By Authority. Basically he’s using the same logic my parents used when we didn’t want to do something and had the audacity to ask why and their answer was: “BECAUSE I SAID SO.” And as our parents that was a pretty good answer. Fast, to the point, and it the last step you dare push before the spanking (yup, I was spanked with the hand, the belt, and apple switches. )

This is also a fallacy of Omnipresence: What he is saying is that basically he has the ability to know thoughts of all people by saying “everyone knows it.” There is no way for him to know what “everyone” actually knows or thinks.

The man proves very, very little of what he says. He is not only the master of fallacy (as many politicians are) but also deflects. When it comes to a persuasive argument, I doubt very seriously that he passed on writing/critical thinking class at Wharton. He uses these tactics as if it were candy.

What I do not understand — is why are people falling for this? Why are people allowing him to run the country this way. It is inherently disrespectful to anyone that this is directed to, and I’ll tell you when it’s on Twitter it is directed at you and at me!

How is it that a voter can justify voting for this man when he said on national tv, in front of God and everyone that he could kill someone on 5th Avenue and get away with it. How is it that this does not bother you?? Where did your conscious go? I have brought this one up before, and I don’t mean to be pushy. But, if you really want the best for our country as a whole, you don’t vote someone into office that you actually thinks he can get away with MURDER! (obviously delusional)

The argument, “I know he’s an asshole, but he is getting things done.” Is NO argument. It is NOT acceptable on a moral level and on an ethical level and it really makes me question people who use that argument. More tomorrow.

I made this graphic, please don’t steal it! Just ask, give a credit, send me a couple bucks.

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