My kind of poetry does not rhyme too much. It mostly tells a story, and for me, ultimately it’s therapy. My guess is that I am at the beginning of a long spree of poetry therapy.
I’m just putting this one out there… I suppose Its a form of communication as well. You don’t have to read it. It’s ok to just scroll on. It’s been years since I’ve wrote any poetry. I will get back into the writing mode at some point. In other words this one is probably no good–but they will get better. I’ve had poems published, and one turned into a song sung (Hilary added the music) in Geyserville Disciples of Christ Church, where Hilary Marckx, leads the whole church in song. I miss them so much right now, and I wish we had stayed right there.
Clyde installing our first, together mailbox. 2006
A Prayer for Us Two
This was part of our vows, we talked about it long before we promised. We would be there for the other, In sickness and in health. You need help with your buttons now. I tease you about getting a bib. I know you need that walker.
I knew that strong man with a very soft, and gentle touch. Someone who could whisper, I love you – it was something I could trust.
A man of ethics, a man of character– There will never be a replacement. No one can fill those shoes.
Honesty and integrity- You are one in a list of very few- where I could place my trust.
I’ve been so glib. What did it mean? When people said, “I love you so much it hurts…” Today I know… It hurts so much to know that the reality is, I am losing you. God knows, I could cry, and cry and cry.
When you forget who you are, I will do my best to comfort you. I will remember the warmth, and the fun- & the rough and hard times. I miss you already.
I will fight for you- I will make sure you are warm. I can not express how much- I am so madly in love with you. Even after 20 years, it grows everyday.
I don’t want to go through this. I don’t want you to go away. But, no matter what, I will fight for you. I’ll always work for your best.
You saved my life. Showed me that those big hands were so capable of gentlness. Held my hand, stood beside me. Please don’t leave me.
How do I let go? I love you so much. Sleep tightly, my love. Tuck you in a little more. I will create safety,
My place is here with you. Why, can’t we just meld. I want to go with you. Through tears, I will give you away. My best friend, my love forever. I feel the tug in each passing day.
Each time I see a new milestone of these diseases that haunt you. I hurt so much for you, I feel sorry for me.
That is how it came to be, that I know what it means, I love you so much it hurts.
God give me the strength that I will need. Send me an overload of compassion and empathy. Remind me to stay gentle, and to say, “I love you” Every single day. Remind me to enjoy the smiles. The cuddles, the times he remembers, Help him to realize that I am with him, I will be there every single day.
12 April 2024 Copyright Peggy A. Rowe-Snyder dedicated to my love.
For those of you who need an explanation. I’ve spent a little over three years at two separate Universities working on my BS in History. I did it!
I will probably go on after a MA but not until I’ve taken a bit of a break. My family needs things. I need to take care of me. I have a new heart issue, and I need to get some income rolling in, so it’s time to write! Write books. I have several projects in the works now. My biggest will be a book called, “Dolly.” About a woman in Herrin, Illinois during Prohabition. That’s as far as I’ll go with that one. Another about the legacy of mental illness that runs through the family – one of them will be closer to a psychology paper. Another will be a full blown book. Plus I have lots and lots of stories to tell about people in Douglas County, Oregon. So, yay me! I can add the historian feather to my cap! —————————————————————————————————————————– On another subject: I have to say I go out on the dark web, and I found my ex. Talking about how he volunteered at the Cincinnati Zoo, which is a lie. How he is part indian because he had great grandparents with the last name of Corn. I believe he believes it, but its not true. He is not even related to Mr. Corn. His blood great great grandmother married Mr. Corn. But, my kids, whom my EX is the biological father of, didn’t pass on any Native American DNA at all. Not one drop.
I got the feeling years ago that he was for some reason, competing with me for some reason. There was never any reason to. The only person I compete with is myself. It’s about what I want, not about being better than anyone else. I really don’t feel like I’m much competition to many people. In real life, I know a whole lot of nothing just like 99.9% of the people out there.
So, why does a person lie about things they don’t need to lie about?? He tells people he has worked with the military. Again, a lie. I guess he’s trying to impress people and make himself feel important. He never understood, which is sad, that he was always important, and he never had to lie to prove it. So, Mr. S. M. of Marble Falls, Texas. Why tell people the things you do not do? Just be you!!
Just for you, information on the Surname of Corn, it’s not even American in Origin–American as in Anglo-Saxon nor American as in the Indigenous peoples:
It appears to be an early Huguenot name acquiring from the Olde French “corne” itself coming from the late Latin “corna” meaning “horn” and originally given as a metonymic professional name to a worker in horn, or perhaps a horn-blower.
English: nickname from Old English corn a metathesized form of cran ‘crane’ (see Crane ). English: metonymic occupational name for a maker or user of hand mills Old English cweorn. Americanized form of German Dutch Czech or Jewish Korn or a shortened form of any of the composite names formed with this element. Slovenian: from a Slovenized form of the Middle High German zorn ‘wrath anger’ (see German Zorn compare Coren ).
Source: Dictionary of American Family Names 2nd edition, 2022
You see, my historian degree even pays off for ex’s in my life! I can see where you’d believe what you said, but sorry, it’s just not true.
Just a note. I’m job hunting. I have a cover letter and resume on the website. Click “about” above, and then when that menu pops up, click “Contact.” From there you’ll see links to my cover letter and resume! 🙂 Thanks!! Peg
We here in America are used it meaning being awake in the past. (or something like that.) But, in other countries it can mean something else:
In this case, “Woke” is short for “Stay Woke.”
Conservatives have talked about being “woke” as if it were a bad thing. They have made it a campaign issue, of all the things to waste time and money on. It’s crazy!
Woke (/?wo?k/ WOHK) is an adjective derived from African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) meaning “alert to racial prejudice and discrimination”. Beginning in the 2010s, it came to encompass a broader awareness of social inequalities such as sexism, and has also been used as shorthand for American Left ideas involving identity politics and social justice, such as the notion of white privilege and slavery reparations for African Americans. (I encourage you to read this: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Woke)
But, for those who don’t trust Wikipedia here are a couple more links:
There is absolutely nothing wrong with having a progressive agenda. Progressives have had a strong influence on where this country has come from. Without them, there would be no daycare, no women’s shelters, no birth control, no social security, and no help for the poor other than private institutions that can require you join their church or profess love of whatever it is they love.
I consider myself progressive anymore. I’m not even sure I fit in the democratic side of things (I’m talking party, not government). I think I fit more with Bernie Sanders and that group than anyone. Though I’d vote democrate before I’d see trump in office again. LOL. I’ve been called woke, as if it was a dirty name. The person had a look on his face as if I were the dirtiest person alive.
I know better. I’m proud to be woke. They can take their distaste and shove it.
I have been having discussions with family members/friends about how the system lets patients like Clyde get into such bad shape before they give them these procedures. And I’m not necessarily supportive of all the medical systems and routines. From my point of view, watching Clyde get sicker and sicker, I’ve been quite angry that they let him get so sick before doing something. I can’t think about it much right now. I get upset. Now, having said that. The system is still relatively new. The TAVR systems started going into humans in 2002. In fact, the very first patient was a man about Clyde’s age. 59 vs. 57.
BTW, TAVR stands for: “transcatheter aortic valve replacement.” The idea first came into being in 1965. From the beginnings of the research came the idea of using the balloon to open an artery/valve. And today, as in Clyde’s case, a balloon was used to open the leaflets of the valve because they were kind of, in a way, glued nearly 100% shut by what comes down to cholesterol (calcification). The first balloon procedure on an aortic valve was done in 1985 on a 77-year-old inoperable female. Soon, two others had the procedures, and the outcomes were so good, that manufacturers started talking about coming up with specialty balloons. We still have not even gotten to the valve replacement part yet.
The first valve replacement in a human was done in the aortic vein in a valve that sits in the abdomen. At that time, it could not yet be used in the chest because there was nothing small enough in existence to do any of that procedure with. That was only seven years later, in 1992. By the way, that first one had a stainless steel chassis.
The next one was made of titanium, and it could go into a human aortic valve in the chest. It was sewn into a stent. It was first tested in sheep. What they had could be used in some places in the human body, but not in the aortic valve of the heart because, “…the arterial pressure is high…” This is what was going on in 2000.
In 2002 when the first aortic patient was implanted with a valvular device, he lived for four months after the implantation. He died of non-cardiac related reasons though. The valve had done an excellent job.
A couple of companies jumped in to come up with more choices and doctors began to experiment with finding out just what was the best way to go about implanting these things. In from one side of the valve, or the other??
The bottom line to this all is that this has been a work in progress and in fact it still is!
The FDA finally approved the device in 2012, but only for critically ill patients who were at high risk of surgery. In 2016, the valve inside a valve procedure was approved for those needing an aortic valve replacement–or as they call it in Clyde’s case, a patient needs to have severe aortic stenosis. Even then the rules still say, that they have to be in pretty bad shape before they get a replacement. Pretty much inoperable. So, the FDA has not yet caught up with the technology.
Having said that, Drs. are just starting to kind of work around the FDA’s requirements. Naturally, not all of them. To show you just how cutting edge this stuff is, a paper published just last year, said the standard procedure was still to surgically replace the valve. That is why the doctor in Portland sent him home. He knew what was coming down the road and that if Clyde could wait it out, he would not have to have open heart surgery.
This, would explain, that despite how sick he got, he probably is better off for having waited, he got a TAVR, not another route with this chest cut open, which is dangerous no matter which way you look at it.
A couple days before his procedure. It hit the news, and I read speciality medical journals and stuff like that so I can’t tell you now where I read it but I’m not sure it was the main stream news. But, it did hit the news in a credible publication that a valve similar to what Clyde has, has lasted 20 years!! In 20 years Clyde will be 79 years old. If he lives another 20 years it will be really remarkable. Considering his father died at age 34 and his brother at 43, both of heart disease–along with other family history all on his fathers side, he has never thought he’d live as long as he has. The doctors discovered Clyde had cholesterol levels off the charts when he was six years old, and he and his older brother became one of Stanford University’s guinea pigs for trying out the new statins. He has lived with this his entire lifetime, since before he can really remember. He was only 2 when his father died.
So, yes, he got really, really sick. And the sicker he got, the angrier I got. He is such a good and delightful person to be around. Like I told him, if he’d been a person like our neighbor from hell, maybe I’d not been so angry, but in this case, this was happening to someone I absolutely adore and have wrapped my life around. He is my protector in a lot of ways, and he knows that I need him for that, so there is that too. A good person at your side, helping you as you negotiate the world with PTSD, helps a LOT. Of course, it helps even more when you know you have PTSD. It explains so much in my life.
So, the truth is, he got the TAVR pretty much as soon as it went mainstream. And I think he was lucky that he did, and it is a blessing that they did not have to cut him open. The statistics for a second open heart surgery are not good. The statistics for a third is even worse, and the bottom line here is that probably, eventually, he’s still looking at another one if he wants to live. But, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.
So, being angry, has pretty much been a waste of time and energy. And in real life, we all knew it anyhow. We all figure it out usually pretty young in life, that anger is not only the route to go, but all it really is, is a cover for something else we do not want to face: the truth maybe, fear can be it. Rarely is anger, just anger.
The good news is that Medtronic, the company that makes Clyde’s model, and my pacemaker, is supporting a study on people who are getting the TAVR before they become severely sick to see if by any chance, the device can keep people from getting some of the bad stuff that comes down the road with severe aortic stenosis. One of those bad consequences is heart failure, which Clyde either has or is about to have. His blood test was positive for it, and his levels were as high as the test measured. So, he was probably in the beginning stages of heart failure.
Of course, we know what the outcome of that study will be. Preventative medicine is being pushed for the very reason that it helps prevent serious conditions later down the road. So, over the long haul, this will probably become preventative medicine. In terms of stockholders alone, it behooves Medtronic to push this. Never mind the lives that will be saved, lived, and enjoyed all the longer.
Thank you, Medtronic, you’ve kept two people alive longer than mother nature had intended. Those two people are extremely happy to be sharing their time on earth together, and we both consider every single day a blessing. We’ve both been blessed in this way for a very long time. Both of our fathers just died way too young of heart disease, and we both inherited some part of it.
So, if you were angry with me. Just know, that surgical replacement is still the route most doctors take. But, TAVRs are set to get into the fast lane and outpace those surgical routes at any moment now, if it hasn’t already. Clyde, for one, is really happy to hear that others will probably get their valve replacements much faster, and he’s happy he got his, And he is who we need to look to for this moment, because he is the one living with it. He is happy to still be alive, feeling better, and even in pain (in his leg). We can quit being angry now.
Should I say, “Stand back, and stand by” I may need your support at another time again. But, I appreciate every single one of you.
& various pages at Medtronic that are designed for doctors not nosey people like me who can figure them out. LOL
An extra note, and tie in to my life:
This post, is dedicated to dad, who like Clyde was always on the move, enjoyed life, and took as much advantage of it as he possibly could. Both men shared determination and grit.
Dad was by no means a perfect man, but then who among us is? As I told a nurse practioner a few weeks ago, I’ve spent a lot (a lot, a lot, a LOT) of time being angry with him. I have my moments still. But, all in all after several years of working on forgiveness, I think I am mostly there. There are reasons I’m mostly there, spending time with family and seeing just how dysfunctional that side is. He was raised with it. In a lot of ways, he didn’t know better. It is really hard to buck what your parents taught you and not everyone is capable of it. And that is really the truth. Dad was the victim of a lot of generational violence, which I can date back to and document back to the 1600’s. Generation after generation of violence. Of course, my sister and I inherited the legacy. Dad used violence in raising at least me. My sister denies it, but then she’s got a strong case of denial anyhow. She took after mom, if you look away and pretend it’s not happening, maybe it’s not. It doesn’t work that way. And this website, if it’s about anything, it’s about stopping the cycle of violence and need I say it? child abuse!
Dad did something to me that hurt me the rest of my life. I was so young that I don’t remember it actually happening. I remember other details around it. My mothers brother, finally verfied for me that dad had hurt me, that from that point on that side of the family considered the Rowe’s uncivilized. When I flat out asked him what my dad had done, he could not name it. The look on my uncles face was one I’d never seen before, that I can remember anyway. At it’s base there was profound sadness. There was a ton of pain in that expression. Considering I’d heard about my uncles bar brawls and other bloody times that young men have a tendency to engage in–it has not slipped my notice that the fact that he could not name what had happened to me, probably means it was extremely violent or sexual or both. I’ve thought, and came up with the idea on my own years ago, based on my own fears, and reactions to certain experiences that dad had sexually abused me already.
So, for me to forgive him. That’s a big thing. It comes down to, he’s my dad and that will never change. He was probably sexually abused too. He reacted the way a lot of boys do when the grow up. In fact, in a twisted way, it could be considered a normal male reaction to being sexually abused. I can look back and see now that dad had big, big issues. And the truth is that he dealt with them the best he knew how, and he did try to better himself. He got a high school diploma in his 30’s. In the 1970’s that was a big deal. There is no doubt that dad himself, was angry, sadistic, and all sorts of other things. He was absolutely loyal to the person who probably abused him, his father. He told me he’d never know his father to lie. Guess what?! I have never known my father to lie either. He was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them, at least not when dealing with this kids. And he did apologize. It was a blanket apology, and that is the kind that can cover a lot of ground. It was something that I could not even let soak in until I was in my 50’s.
Dad died at 43 of his third heart attack. 10 years before, he’d had one of the country’s first by pass surgeries, and Shumway was his surgeon. Shumway is still in the medical journals. Dad was on a heart transplant list when he died in 1983, that would have been considered cutting edge too, although DeBakey had done the first procedures with apes or monkeys in Africa years and years before.
It makes me really sad to realize that when dad was living, the doctors and inventors were working on the TAVR system. If he’d lived just a little longer, he probably could had had some stents, or a TAVR, or some other thing that we consider routine these days done, and he too could have seen old age. I know, he was settling down, and I know my kids would have been better off having their grandpa in their lives. Especially my boy.
In someways, my kids did have their grandpa. In the form of their mother, another imperfect soul. And if there is a heaven, I’m sure he’s looking down on us. In fact, I thought I heard him laughing just the other day. I love you, Daddy. Even when I was mad at you, I loved you.
Alvin trained at Fort Ord in California to be a cook. But he was also a munitions manager. Alvin C Rowe (right) and co-worker.
The Powerpuff Babies… Who would be the first to inform you that arrogance and attitude can, -in fact, be intimidation. A form of power play. A form of abuse of people. Period.
First let me say the surprise is mine. So is the education. I thought Jr. College was very much like an adult high school. I did specialize in something. I got my A.S. and I got a certificate in computer systems. At the time it kind of was the same as being A+ certified. No small thing in the computer world. It made you quite employable by many.
So, I have entered my education years at a University. In fact, I’m nearly done. I’ve almost got a B.A. in History. When this comes to fruition, it will be a dream come true. I am specializing in something: History. Yet, there is so much to history that I specialize in nothing.
It dawned on me today. We grow up. We are very young. We think we are smart. We go through our phases where we have a tendency to think we KNOW IT ALL Everything, that is, and we must educate the world. Yet, as we age, we come to know, the reality is after thousands of dollars, hours of study, hundreds of tears, yawns, and one upset son…. I still know relatively nothing. But at least, I grew out of it. The disease of KNOW IT ALL
There is something to be learned here by those with out any formal education. By formal I mean college, university, and upwards. High school does not prepare you for what it out there, even if you think it does. Little in childhood prepares you for the realities of life.
Just life.
There those of us who go through an arrogant phase. We look down on those around us That we perceive, that you are not as smart as we are. It’s one thing to be ‘educated’ and arrogant, you probably are quite aware that you know nothing. (which means BTW, you really are not arrogant) But, you also know stuff other people don’t know and you really do want to help. Either way, in this universe you are not even the mote in someones eye. It is, however, truly another reality altogether to be stared down by someone with a high school education. Their grades showing they barely squeaked by. Its all pure intimidation.
I used to be intimidated by those types. I know one pretty well. I grew up with her. With her big arrogance came, a super sized ego attached to all-know-it-ness, and a temper that could just blow the roof off the house. The arrogance I could live with. It was the lies, manipulation, and temper that got to me. She was a cut throat in some ways. At least verbally, as any one person could be. She truly scared me.
These thoughts just came to me. My education is a gift that I have given myself. Does that make me better than anyone else? Hardly. Shall I look down at others whose choice it was to not continue on with their education. No. I’ve learned that lesson. I harbor no arrogance, nor the anger that boils beneath it. I’m happy to share what I know, but only if you want to know it too. I do not lie. I have never purposely manipulated anyone. My temper is not so explosive that anyone in this world is truly scared of me.
I could not have learned that at any university Except the University of Life. I’m sure there I have a PhD Dr. Survivor in the Universe, EX-traordinaire. The all knowing Philosophy of Nothingness. Pie-Cap-Alpha (not you)
Tulips in Canyonville, Copyright 2019 Peggy A. Rowe-Snyder
My note:
I find myself reflecting on my life, including my behavior, feelings, actions, etc. all the time. I always have, it’s been part and parcel of trying to figure out who I am and how do I survive it all. Reflections for me take many forms. I write like crazy. Some people think that I am writing to them, or about them, but inevitability, it’s me trying to figure me out and work out my own emotions. People just need to understand that, and if they can’t they have to stop reading my stuff.
Music has always been a very cathartic media for me. I have always sung. While I was in choir in school the teacher approached my parents and offered to take me professional. So, it’s real for me, and it always was. This despite minimization over the year by some people, (mostly ex’s, and kids) I obviously had something at sometime.
Lyrics to songs, poems, etc often trigger emotional responses that lead me to reflect. As the years pass, I find the lyrics send me different messages with each listening session.
If anyone ever wondered if I got stuck on them, here is your answer. I am not. I never was. If anyone thinks I have not thought my way through my actions. Here is your answer. I have. If anyone thinks I’m going to apologize-no matter who you are. No, I won’t.
I have, in my life, experienced others who make it their mission to stand above those they supposedly hold dear. They took the time to look down on me (even if they were shorter than I) and see someone who was/is inferior to themselves. It took me a long time to realize that they were liars. They were not as smart as they thought. At least not in the ways that really count. Wisdom, Kindness, Patience, Compassion, Empathy–That is smart. Ya’ll missed the point.
I did the best I could with what I had in those moments. I did what I thought was best. I weighed the pro’s and the con’s. I took each child in each situation into account- I determined if there was any form of abuse going on, EVEN IF ONLY VERBAL ABUSE–because WORDS MATTER! The truth is the truth, is the truth, is the truth. You can try to bend it, break it, and manipulate it and situations any way you please. That doesn’t change who I am or what I felt what needed done in the moments. No– I won’t ever apologize for putting the child in first place. Regardless of who the said child was, something was wrong. In answer to my mother, “Life is about more than pure survival.” Saying that your grandchild will survive implies a life that is short of life’s bounties. Because survival takes energy, and vigilance that someone who never had to deal with survival never had to tap. Survival is simply EXHAUSTING. It takes the joy out of life. Survival makes people work hard to control everything around them. It can make people manipulative. The results of survivor mode is ugly.
Your loss, however, is my gain. Keep in mind who ever you are:
What a thing to wish on a child!
Life is not about survival. It’s about life: Joy, Love, Peace, Knowing, Action, Belief, Faith For me, now, it’s about moving on in every way.
Oregon Coast, Copyright 2019 Peggy A. Rowe Snyder
I’ve dealt with my ghosts and I’ve faced all my demons Finally content with a past I regret I’ve found you find strength in your moments of weakness For once I’m at peace with myself I’ve been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long I’m movin’ on
I’ve lived in this place and I know all the faces Each one is different but they’re always the same They mean me no harm but it’s time that I face it They’ll never allow me to change But I never dreamed home would end up where I don’t belong I’m movin’ on
I’m movin’ on At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me And I know there’s no guarantees, but I’m not alone There comes a time in everyone’s life When all you can see are the years passing by And I have made up my mind that those days are gone
I sold what I could and packed what I couldn’t Stopped to fill up on my way out of town I’ve loved like I should but lived like I shouldn’t I had to lose everything to find out Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road I’m movin’ on
Some view ‘god’ via life’s conditioning or by an assessment of evolving science and proven facts, while others do so via myths. Some blend these and other perspectives. Albeit, there is no ‘god’ as good as the one we believe in. Mine is Incomprehensible, Illuminating, Invisible, Interactive (as motion and Being), Integrative (as galaxies), Intelligent (beyond human knowledge; we have only tapped the surface) and Infi- nite (even that is a finite word when it comes to delineating my ‘god’). Inspiring, Indescribable, not Intimate! I am merely a minuscule parti- cle—a fleck in the mix of an Interchangeable Energy. __DWB
(Above is borrowed from a cousin)
There is most definitely a power out there that is greater than our own. Just how much intelligence it has, is in all reality a conjecture. Our human best guess is all we can really come up with.
What is a song but a dance of the voice expressing the feelings within. (note to self, PARS)
But, we live in a Universe where some power holds it all together, and I have a tendency to call that love. There is actually order to what looks like an infinite chaos to our eyes. Look up to the heavens in the night and in the darkness there is always light. Sometimes more, sometimes less but no matter what your travails look like, there is light. I have a tendency to see that has hope. We do know that what we live in this system we call the Universe has been here for a long time. We might even dare to say forever, at least compared to our own finite lives. I have a tendency to view that as determination, tenacity, the will to live. I see the moon, and a smile on it’s face, as it acts like a nightlight for the night, I see that as comfort. When the sun comes up and fills the world with its heat, and gives us the gift of each day. Such is warmth, something akin to a gigantic hug. The lakes of the world sparkle and twinkle in the light of day. It looks like fairies dancing in the sun. We are they, and they are we, limitless energy… we dance in the light, and if we do not, we should. Rejoice that we’ve made it to the next day. We dig the soil to plant our gardens and the aroma of the dirt is heavenly. There is no such thing as dirty dirt. A requirement of life, and it can be healthy or not, but it is still soil and it gives us the gift of renewal each and every year. We are surrounded in green and blue. Nature’s colors, the gifts of a living planet with forests and oceans both teeming with life. Such is the beauty, something I call home. It feels unbreakable but it is not. We have been given free will, and we test our limits and boundaries constantly. I for one, see God in every glance. No matter what is in my view there God is. Something that is beyond a gender or sex, that understands the trauma and grief we sometimes refer to as life, that hears our tears and our laughter and still chooses to bathe us in light every day and night to remind us that his or her existence is near. The rainbow became the promise. But, the light is an every moment reminder. Look up, look up – see and feel warm hug. ~PARS
Put this on my Facebook page and started a debate! I agree with this man 1000%. I have been saying what every citizen should have to do is take a class in critical thinking. That alone would help free a lot of people from the kind of thinking that leads them to vote for someone like Trump.
Be Ready! Do NOT forget! We are the ANSWER! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE!
I do assume a lot don’t I? Here is a quote from the news on the Huff Post today:
The committee “should come to the conclusion after spending many millions of dollars, that the real insurrection happened on November 3rd, the Presidential Election, not on January 6th—which was a day of protesting the Fake Election results,” Trump said in his statement.
Really? I am not even sure how Trump manages to put himself out there, if I were in his shoes, I’d be so embarrassed, I couldn’t say a word, let alone show my face in public. The man has absolutely no shame at all. I will try not to dump on the man too much, not that he doesn’t deserve every beating he gets in writing, verbally, and as far as I am concerned physically. He does not deserve protection from our government. He just needs to disappear.
On December 17, 2020, Gallup polling found that 31% of Americans identified as Democrats, 25% identified as Republican, and 41% as Independent.
The truth is, that the democratic numbers which of course translates to votes, has been growing the past few years. Keep that in mind when you are sweating having to live through another four years of that regime.
My son has been sweating all this stuff. None of us in this family want Trump to run for President again. Ok, lets be real up front and honest. My son and I flat out hate the man. He is unethical, not honest, a mysogistic, narcissistic, criminal. I’m afraid that is the top of the iceberg when it comes to that man. I don’t know it, I do not know the man at all. So far as I know no one I am acquainted with know him either. I dislike him so much, I’ve cut off some friends over their support for the sob.
So, back to the kid. He is so worried that man will get back in office. I am going to sound very (temporary, probably insane, but here goes…) Trump really did more harm to this nation than anyone has in a good long time. Those who did not like him before his Presidency in general like him even less now. His whining and his false facts have raised the hackles of liberals and progressives in the worst way.
Reading the news is comforting, right now Democrats and independents who lean Democrat (such as myself) have the numbers that show we outright own this nation if we will only take the time to vote.
I believe because of what we saw the four years prior to Mr. Biden will be enough that those who lean Democrat or Progressive will never be complacent again. At least this generation and the next will remember this time for the rest of their lives. People like me can’t get the violence of the Black Lives Matter protests out of our heads. I am talking about the ones who actually committed the violence. People who took their cues from Trump and proceed to walk all over others to get what they wanted. The Proud Boys, The 2%, the KKK, they all took their cues from Trump. They honestly believed Trump had their back. I have to laugh. We can see now how he has had their back. It’s all just words. There is no substance to that man.
Be prepared to stop Trump and Trumpism. Stay awake, don’t forget. The future of our world is in our hands, all we need to do is VOTE!
I vote anyways. I always vote. A person I wanted to win in a small town election lost by one vote. I didn’t vote that year. I had a baby and I was too worn out. Had I voted that person probably would have won. I will never forget that. I tell the story to others because it is my way of letting people know that their vote still matters. If we win as the individual or as a group, doesn’t matter, what matters is that we win. That we choose nearly anyone else except Trump or any other pick of the conservative Christians right. They have reached the extremes and are angry over moot subjects. They are creating chaos in our lives, our government, and turning the world upside down to the point that they support fascism. Let them take their anger out on themselves, and vote all of them out of office.
I have friends who are Christian, and conservative. It is hard in these times to stay friends. I still like them, but now, I see them as people with some sort of thinking deficit. I mean one set of friends are university educated. I was shocked to know they were Trumpers.
This quarter at EOU, I am taking a history class about Postwar Europe. Postwar, meaning after WWII. But, the class is also teaching a lot about what happened in WWII. It turns out that a lot, and I mean the numbers were scary, how many academics, meaning University Professors, on down the ladder to elementary school teachers fell for the hoax of Nazism.
I wish people would learn about the past. Nazism was nothing but fascism. A textbook case. As far as I can tell, Trump is a want to be fascist. Considering we are wide awake, and the majority we really should win the race easily. I must admit though, I will go through the whole race until the final vote is counted pinned to the edge of my seat, however, I must believe that Trump will loose. A Democrat or Progressive who really cares about people will take the Presidential seat. I don’t care if it’s Joe Biden, or Ms. Harris, or AOC, or Yang. Heck, I’d love to see Bernie Sanders in there!
But, lets get realistic, stay awake and caring about what our country is becoming both politically and environmentally and vote accordingly. As Smokey used to say, “Only YOU can prevent forest fires.” That is a perfect metaphor for the upcoming elections, and even about the climate change that is coming. Oh, heck, its not coming, it’s here and its only going to get worse for awhile anyway. My source for that is me, I took a class at OSU about climate change. I can give you the history, and there is a lot of it. I can tell you what we need to stop doing NOW. I can tell you what will do the longest damage to the climate and hold heat in the longest: methane is the most dangerous stuff because it stays in the atmosphere for years and years, wherein carbon eventually breaks down.
At this point, we need to stand by and prepare to be ready at the ballot box. In the meantime we can watch the awful master of destruction, maybe even the devil himself, tear up the Republican party. He will make them all look like a bunch of dunces (in my book he already has and they really are). The Republican party as far as I am concerned is morally defunct. Trump is putting frosting on his proverbial cake. Let him. It will cause us to eventually have even more votes on our side. I have always lived on hope! Never stop hoping!
Put action behind those words and feelings:
Be Ready! Do NOT forget! We are the ANSWER! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE!
Photobucket claims to be a service where you can store your photos.
There is a free service which supposedly can hold up to 2.5 Gigabytes of storage space. Then there are paid accounts. I have had a free account since around 2005.
The service has been sending me nag emails for forever. So, I decided to do something to stop that. Mind you, I only had about 100 megabytes of photos on their server. That is not even 1/10th of the space a free account supposedly gives you.
I went there and found out that in order to delete my photos I had to pay for the service. The claim was that I was over the limits. Which was just not true. So, I paid for the cheapest service and deleted my photos, after I backed them up.
I canceled my subscription. This was about 1/2 hour after I paid to start one. I sure hope they are not confused. Then I started looking for the place to delete my account entirely. I wasn’t mad yet.
It did not matter where I went I found no way to delete the account. I looked for instructions on the net. None of the instructions worked. They were old suggestions. Finally, and I mean I had to really dig, I found a way to email them on their form and ask to have the account deleted.
This is where I got really mad. The form had a place for Email, Account name, Subject line, and block to write the request or question. If I chose “cancel account” The block was deleted, and my way to ask for the account to be closed was taken away. The same thing happened if I clicked on “other”. In fact, it happened nearly regardless of what I chose. Basically they are sending the message that they don’t want to be bothered with feedback, kudos, or complaints. I did find one place where I was allowed to choose, and keep the text block open. It was getting so frustrating that I don’t even remember what it was anymore.
So, I finally had a subject space to fill in. Every time I typed out anything in the subject field, the text block disappeared (again, and again). Eventually, I figured out I could type just one letter in the subject line that it would leave the text box open for a note. Oh, and by the way, filling in the subject line was required. If you left it blank, you could not type a note to them.
My note informed them that I wanted my account deleted first.
Then I wrote them and said everything I said here. And I added that they were nothing more than a “pressure to pay” service. A scam.
And considering I know what I am doing on a computer, and that I had this much trouble getting a note to them to cancel the account, I do NOT suggest them for any type of service anymore.
From Me & Mine to all of you, We hope that your holiday is wonderful and the coming New Year, too.
This piece of “art” is an consequence of an art class taken at Eastern Oregon University and is one class that counts towards the degree I am seeking. So, for those who care, and I’m sure there are very, very few. This is a hand drawn piece with pencil, felt tip pens, and in one case a Gel pen. I then scanned in the piece, and imported to Photoshop (2021) and ran it through a few filters. I cut pieces out and put them in their own layers, added drop shadows patterns, and some texture. The ornaments got covered over with the digital paint brush.
I will be sharing my projects from class soon. Right now, I’ve got a job to do and so I’m keeping this short. But, the whole experience was positive. I got myself an A on the books. And I ended buying myself a Christmas present. I now have a professional digital pad for drawing on.
I’ve had one before. I hardly did what it was advertised to do. You know, the computing power just wasn’t there back then. Today the drawing pads, can catch the naunces of the pressure you put on the sylus and in the loops and semi-lines you draw. The tool is incrediable. I can’t wait to have time to work with it in a steady way.
Because I have a job I probably won’t post much until after the new year. So, I really do hope you are all healthy, wealthy, and wise. Happy, honored, and beloved by someone. Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!! ~ Peg?
Extra note to my oldest: Do not think for any moment that I have forgotten you or the fact that your birthday is in exactly one day. I wish you a very happy birthday and a very beautiful day. I wish you health and happiness in whatever form you like.
You know this angry white man thing has just got to go.
I do not remember realizing this before. But, white men have enslaved others for hundreds of years (if not thousands). Slavery still exists. We partake almost anytime we buy a piece of clothing from Walmart. Who reaps those riches: white men, for the most part. Men– probably of all colors, but especially the Anglo Saxon race is guilty of abusing those who are weaker than themselves. This includes their ‘old ladies’.
I was just writing a note to a friend. And my mind went through steps making one association after another. The reality is today’s angry white man can’t stand the idea of ‘socialism.’ They do not feel obligated in the least to help their fellow human. As far as I am concerned, the Republicans are proving that on a daily basis. They have zero compassion.
White men (and sometimes all men) have been doing unfathomable damage for eons when it comes to humanity in general. It turns a little personal here— I was married to two angry white men. (One of them has turned around for the most part) One was very abusive. I have made no secret about what I have lived with in my childhood and in my first ‘marriage’. I did not know until my late 40s/early 50s that I was having trouble holding jobs because of PTSD. I knew that I looked for certain enviroments. I knew if I did not have the protection I felt I needed that I would not take the job, or in the end, I’d walk off. I have worked almost my entire adult life to basically keep my back against the wall where I felt comfortable and able to watch the move of everyone around me in all situations: work and social. Sit in the back of the building, and watch the doors. I kept track of every body. I knew who was in the bathrooms and when.
A person who is so hypervigilant over themselves and children end up pretty exhausted both physically and emotionally. The bottom line–I worked so often and so long on the record that I can not collect social security of my own EVER. Otherwise, I would be because physically and emotionally I qualify for SSDI.
This situation, while I have worked hard to figure it out and move beyond it has affected me so badly that I will live with the fall out (consequences) the rest of my life. Unless I have a miracle happen, my old age, especially if I were to loose Clyde, is going to be pretty poor in terms of finances. (I’m not whining, I’m making a point). My point is that, angry white men did the damage. I’m far from the only woman out there living with the fall out. My point is that white men have NO right to be angry. None whatsoever. They owe us something! Angry white Republicans say “NO Socialism” yet, how will the government take care of it’s “damaged” female citizens. In general what happens now is these women do the best they can, but become lifers on the sytem. Believe me, I know, these women eventually have to give up their pride and end up on TANAF, Food Stamps, and state insurance. When they’ve been on TANAF too long, then they work as they can and focus on paying the rent. At least some of us remain on Food Stamps and state insurance to help round out the life–because to keep the family healthy as is possible. Don’t forget kids are at least a 20 year or so obligation. Women’s capacity to provide for their family which has is dimished by virtue of the fact that they are female and raised in a certain frame of mind is on the table first and formost. Add in abuse that come down to a diagnosis of PTSD (in my case, CPTSD) further dimisnishes their ability to provide and all of this sets up a cycle that continues and is shared with the next generation. But, here women like myself sitting out there. Doing what we can do. Really in some way really just flailing through life and doing the best we can–with little to no support from anyone. Many of us get rejected by our own families and friends they thought they could count on. And white men are angry? How this ties into socialism is this:
First consider that social security is an idea that was set up in German first. Socialist Germany. We did nothing more than steal or borrow the idea from them! That’s just the fact. Not all socialism is a bad thing.
2. Consider the millions of women who are in the same condition that I am in. Where will we turn? Again to what they have available social programs, in my case, social security, whatever I get , will be a critical life line for me, as will social security. But, oh wait, Socialism is a bad thing!!! I hear of talk of getting rid of Social security even today out of the Republicans.
I feel at this point that I am owed to a certain degree. I have lived with a LOT of damage over the years. I have struggled in ways that people don’t even know about and I could have even voiced it at the time because people don’t always have the names needed to explain things. I need “social” programs to survive. And all of this was and is basically through no fault of my own. I was raised in such a way that I would do nothing more but look for abusive husbands until I became conscious enough to learn about the subject and and begin the process of getting past it. It takes years and years both to wake up and to move past the crap.
-So these angry white men can just scream “no socialism” and they can stay angry. But, what I want if they want to do is this:
-Realize that what they are trying to dismantle is a mess that they themselves constructed.
-That their victims are in need of assistance.
-That they have no right to be angry—they are STILL at the top of the pile (Of you know what). Or the top of the food chain, however you prefer to see it.
-They need to realize that their anger is not justified in the least and really what their anger is nothing more than pouting and a temper tantrum because they themselves are finally loosing control to people who are “waking up” and standing up for their rights.
-True socialism as it is meant to be used in conjunction with Democracy works around the world. The idea in practice puts every day people at the top, and people in those countries are regularly named on lists as the happiest people in the world.
-Angry white men will need the system eventually, then they will understand. But, until them. People need the help and always will as long as people exist. Period.
One last point—I have learned over the years that what some would consider “damaged” in a person, another might consider a strength. It might be one most people do not recognize–but in order to survive it all women in similar situations have to realize that they are survivors, that the survivorship creates are strong and capable ladies. We learn to make our way the best way we can. I have labeled myself ‘damaged’ in this piece only to make a point. I am beyond sitting with my back against the walls now. I have pushed myself into social situations and purposely worked to break the habit of hypervigilance. If anything I see myself as fairly lazy about it all these days. I am quite aware of the strength it took for me and other women to leave their situations after being beat down and to slowly, surely rise up in skill, in the way we carry ourselves, eventually holding our heads up. Of course it’s a struggle, and yes, sometimes it can still be. But, I know my capabitlities today. I’m really smart. I am really conscious. I am very aware. I am strong. I nearly always see the glass half FULL. I believe in most people. I am capable of thought (contrary to what I was told by my ex husband who told me I was uncapable of making any sort of decision). More than anything else—what has really carried me through everything, is that I am fighter. If you knock me down–eventually, I come out swinging. My goal is always to move up and better myself.
I’m not done yet! I have learned that words matter. I’ve learned that I am good with them. Obviously, that is where I have taken the fight.
Put this on my Facebook page and started a debate!
Posted this graphic to my Facebook page and got a lot of comments that I do not necessarily agree with at all. So, I thought perhaps, I’d just post my answer to them all here:
At this point there should be no doubt in anyone’s mind that I lean left. Having said that I think that the educational system was created by people who believed that education was the key to a better life. It has been refined over the years with that same belief built in. Perhaps I am wrong, maybe all it was supposed to do was teach the basics so people could balance their pocket book. I really do not know. What I know and believe is that education is the KEY to a better life. A higher standard of living, a better understanding of the world around us–including outer space, our enviroments, our home nations and our neighbors, etc., etc. So, I am not blaming anyone. I am backing up the statement that Trump is a problem, but he is a symptom– a symptom of the lefts apathy in 2016. A symptom of the in general, attitude of the “angry white man’ movement and everything it includes: white supremecy, racisim, paternalism, misgony, looking down on anyone one in the working class, in fact, as Trump makes terribly clear–the DISTAIN of the very people they depend on to have the life that they maintain. Classism is a live an well in this country. I also am very against the habit of the right to use “Christianity” to justifiy what they believe in and do Especially when they come off as hypocrits. It has never been so obvious how not ‘pro life’ they truly are or how violent they truly are. For most on the right, I do not see them as true Christians. And I am speaking of the fundamentalists, the extremists. So, what will cure the nation of these issues? A good and well rounded education! At this point, I believe everyone should go to college. Even two years of Junior College makes a big difference in how people understand the world. But the more the better. To make it more possible for the population in general to move up in the world in terms of ‘wealth’ education is the key. Education gives the tools neeeded to help us obtain a higher standard of living! Because everyone deserves that hand up, I do believe in a free education at all levels. It will take generations to overcome the attitudes, misunderstandings, and false narratives that exist today. The goal is to become a society that is color-blind, equal as humanly possible, humane, non-discriminitory, non-violent, loving, and helpful to our neighbors. Our society should support life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness. And in my mind, just to be 100% clear, that includes universal health care, free education along with some other stuff that society does not do for itself. And this is part of my point-I said, “not do for itself.” So many people complain about socialism and how it supports ‘the other guy.’ It does support the other guy, but it you supporting yourself as well. Your taxes will go just as far in taking care of your health, you and your families education, housing, or whatever as much more as that of the other guy. It really does fill the description of: paying ones way. So, this is why I posted this graphic, because I believe it is true. As far as I am concerned there is NO debate.
For whatever it is worth at this late date, and I doubt its worth much to anyone. If Joe Biden wins, I will accept him as my President. I will love it. Is he perfect no. He’s an old white man, and in general as I see it they need to go. But, he seems to be sincere in what he wants to accomplish, he’s trying to look out for all peoples –there is a lot of goodwill in the vibes he sends out. I believe he is sincere about what he say and I believe he hit a home run tonight in the Townhall.
I loved his answer about what his Justice Department would be like. He is right, his job is to delegate, to lead, set an example — pull people together.
I do wish he were younger. But, I believe that if Harris shadows him enough, if something goes wrong, not only can she handle the job — she’ll do it very, very well. I have no qualms about voting for either of them. Not at this junction of time.
Perhaps if it was Biden against George Washington I’d have some issue with Biden. That hypothetical is just a tad out there, but I am sure you get the point.
It is a crazy, crazy time with a President who adds nothing to the mix but more and more disturbance. A germ that simply won’t go away and discriminates against no one. So many people looking at a future of homelessness, food insecurity, and more. Throw on to the mix a willingness of the Republicans to just throw health coverage for millions of people out the window.
I am a registered independent. I had a tendency to vote Republican most of my adult life. But, at this point in the heart, I am a Democrat. A Progressive Democrat. There is no doubt that I will probably vote mostly Democrat the rest of my life.
Front side of postcard, photo of Fort Ord, California. Where my father spent part of his time in the US Army.
Back side of postcard of photo of Fort Ord, California. One of the places my father was stationed while in the Army
From Alfred Rowe, 12/18/2001: ” The post card that your dad (Alvin C. Rowe) sent mom (Lily McClaskey Rowe) was taken at Fort Ord and was when your dad was doing his six months duty at Fort Ord. The line is to the barrack that he was living at. I was at the same place a year later doing the same thing only a couple of buildings away. The postmark tells you the date and also his serial number is ng //// and that means he is in the National Guard. He bought a gray dodge sedan and the engine went t u (sic). Then he enlisted in the regular army when he was in Germany. I was in basic. We joined the national guard when we were in high school. To get in the army with his (Alvin Rowe) feet the way they were he had to get in through the guard and then when he went regular army he had to sign a waiver so he couldn’t come back on the government for his feet. …I have it written down here that he loved the army so much that he went regular.
The paragraph above was written by my uncle in 2001. He was identifying as many unknown photos as he could that I had posted on my genealogy website. He was talking about himself, my father. He mentions my grandmother. On 20 May 1958, my father sent his mother a postcard photo of at least part of Fort Ord in California.
The bottom line here is that my dad was born with feet problems. A condition that is passed on because I inherited it. When he was a little boy he had surgery on both feet. If I recall properly (and I might not be) he had some bones fused or something like that. He wore braces for a long, long time from what I understand. I’ve never seen a photo of him in them though.
There were, at the time, actually, two things that should have (legally) kept my father out of the Army in 1958. One was his foot problem. The other was that it was against the law to admit anyone to serve in the military if they’d had Rheumatic fever as a child. Who knows if anyone at the time knew that there was a lawsuit waiting to happen. It never did though.
This was not the whole story that my Uncle told me. Evidently, my father was told that he’d have to prove himself in order to get into the Army while in high school. He worked hard to get there.
Now make no mistake my dad made a lot of mistakes in his life. As we all do. But, as far as I am concerned these are amongst some of the most admirable events in his life. He worked to get in. Having inherited his foot problem I am intimately aware of the pain he endured. There is not a day that goes by that my feet are not hurting. I’ve had jobs where I stood on my feet all day or even walked all day. At the end of the day, all I could do was fall into the bathtub and try to soak the pain away. BenGay has been my best friend for the majority of my life.
He went into the service, he survived those long marches and training that are required of every young man despite the pain in his feet. God only knows what long term symptoms lingered from the Rheumatic fever from childhood.
I do not know why my father wanted to join so badly. But, I know from life experience and hearing multiple stories over the years that some people join for economic reasons. Some just see life as being more financially secure this way. Some join because of the mystery, and the romance of the idea, some of them even hope it will attract the young ladies. Some young men join because they were raised by their families to believe it was their patriotic duty to do so. For them, it was just one phase in their lives to get through. Others joined because they honored their country that much. They wanted to be of service to their country and fellow citizens. Some of them even went in to help them complete their career choices.
My current husband joined for the last three reasons. He thought it was his duty based on what his family said while he was growing up. He honored his country and wanted to serve to protect his fellow human. By becoming an MP (Military Police) he hoped it would help spring him forward into a career of law enforcement in order to be of service to his fellow citizen.
Regardless of the reasons why either of them joined, the truth is that they did. Then they used that service to better their lives in the long run. After the Army, my father went to a technical college and learned how to be a Cement Mason. For as long as he worked that is what he did. Unfortunately, his heart had other ideas for him, and his life was cut short, he passed away at age 43. His heart weakened originally by the rheumatic fever, a smoking habit, and the standard American Diet all contributed to his death. More than likely genetics played a big part, as hypertension runs on that side of the family in a bad, bad way — and men for several generations died young on our Danish side of the family.
More than likely, my father gave the best parts of his life, when he was the strongest and most able to the United States of America. He spent time in Fort Ord and in Germany. He finished his tour. As a kid, I remember him joking about peeling a lot of potatoes. Said he was a cook in the Army, but peeling potatoes was a punishment. At this point in my life, I kind of doubt he was punished much for anything. The truth is Fort Ord is where the Army sent you if you were training to be a cook in the Army. He went on to also be an ammunition handler. He trained in Germany in the rain, snow, and other weather. I never once heard him speak ill of the experience. Never.
Private Alvin C Rowe
September 14, 1959
Kitzingen, Germany
Date and place clearly printed on the back of the photo by Alvin c. Rowe. Says, “On post, September 14, 1959, Kitzengen, Germany”
Alvin C Rowe, cousin, Betty Rowe Mahan, husband Larry Mahan
Alvin trained at Fort Ord in California to be a cook. But he was also a munitions manager. Alvin C Rowe (right) and co-worker.
In the Army @Kitzirgen, Germany. “Out at the ammo dump. My truck” January 1959
In what capacity can my father ever be referred to a loser or sucker when it comes to what was just read? There is no loser or sucker there. He thought about what he wanted, he worked for it, he got what he wanted, he kept up with his responsibilities and he was honorably discharged. What wear and tear did the experience take on his heart? How much did he really give to the country while he was doing that tour?
My husband’s father died at an even younger age than my father due to heart problems. From family history, it is really obvious that genetics is at play. My husband is now amongst the longest living males in the family. This at 57 years old. After his father passed away he and his brother were tested for cholesterol levels and were found to be extremely high even in their childhood. This realization began a series of monthly trips to Stanford University for the two boys where they were given all sorts of experimental drugs for lowering cholesterol. Sometimes it was a vaccine, sometimes it was pills, and other times it was a glass of chalky substance that they just had to chug down. Their mother was educated about diet, but in the 1970s and 1980’s not as much was known about diet as is known today. The diet did not work. He is probably one of the first people to ever be put on a statin, he was put on a Lipitor while young. So, when he went to join the service he found out that to enter one must not be on any sort of maintenance drug including cholesterol-lowering drugs. It’s probably a good thing he did not know me back then because I probably would have beat him over the head, but the young man made the decision to toss the medications, and join the Army. He ‘lost’ his eyeglasses around the same time, though it was after joining when they got in the way of his aim.
Clyde gave up those life and health saving drugs for nearly eight full years. In this time span, he did serve as Military Police. He did all the marches, physical ed, and from what it sounds like, endless paperwork as a Customs agent. He was in while three different military actions happened including the first Gulf War. He wanted to go to fight that one. But, much to his disappointment, he was left in Germany where he’d already been for over four years. He was part of the team that inspected the equipment moving from Iraq to the United States. Part of the job was to inspect tanks and make sure there was not one iota, not a speck of dirt on them that could transfer a germ, insect, or any other matter that could infect a person, or environment with anything dangerous to people, agriculture, etc. Someone had to do that. It wasn’t his dream job, but he did it. I’ve never heard him complain about that. Nor have I ever heard him complain about the 24-hour shifts he had to take while working as a “tower rat” in Germany. It was all pretty much part and parcel for the job. What I have heard complaints about was about the time he spent in Germany guarding chemical weapons that were made illegal by the Geneva Convention. The U.S.A by this point was hiding what they had. The “leakage” of the weapons was measured by the level of the chemical in the soldier’s blood. The doctor on the base drew the blood, got the results, and made two copies of the paperwork. One copy went on to the government. The other copy was locked in a safe in his office. Today, he wonders just how much the chemicals have hurt his health. It has stated it was never a choice. He was told he was going, and if he did not sign the release and go he’d be moved over to infantry.
Where is the loser or sucker there? These men and women give pieces of their lives to strangers. They are willing to die in order to defend a person’s right to freedom of speech, religion, peaceful protesting, legal immigration, etc., etc., etc.
I have a 2nd cousin who spent at least one tour in Vietnam. He eventually succumbed to cancer in later life. But, the war took a physical toll on him. My guess is that it took one hell of a mental toll as well, when you look at his personal life, he was married about 5 times. Yet, people in the family who knew him still talk positively about him and his character.
Losers and suckers do not willingly give of themselves for others in such major ways. Members of the military no matter what state they are in: Active, Retired, Honorably Discharged, etc — All of them were serving an idea that was bigger than themselves or even their own local circumstances. These people are HERO’s. They join and face a grueling life while serving.
Instead of calling these HERO’s names, we all owe them a debt for being willing to protect us and our way of life. They deserve a thousand thank yous from each and every one of us.
Thank you to family members and all service members:
My husband, Clyde L Snyder
My paternal uncles:
Marvin W Rowe, I – National Guard
Alvin C Rowe – National Guard, US Army
Richard R Rowe – United States Navy
Paternal cousin, Ronald E Horton – US Army, Bronze Star, Vietnam
Great Great Grandfathers Jesse F Jones, Union Army, Illinois William Murphey, Union Army, Iowa, injured (badly) while a Prisoner of War. survived, Anderson Prisoner camp. Alden B Rowe, Union Army, Maine, injured during a battle. (Probably Cedar Creek)
I also have family who served on the Confederate side of the Civil War, direct ancestors. Their last name was McClaskey
And so many more cousins (some who died in the line of duty), great grandfathers who served in Indian wars, revolutionary war, the Union Army, Confederate Army, WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, and other military actions.
I had a kind of ephiny today. Sort of. Clyde and I talking about stuff on the news. I went back to what I was doing asking myself just why the Republican’s thought they could actually do what Clyde and I had been talking about. I was kind of tossing that around in my head when I remembered a conversation I had with the major donor at the historical society. She and I were having a conversation about the Vice President of the society and how the artifacts in storage were being mistreated and also, about how he was planning on hiring an unlicensed, non-contractor, and ex con to fix the roof on the museum.
I had just been relieved as President of the society, by the Vice President — but while President, I had decided against this suggestion as following through would have been unethical, and more than likely ileagle. The lady had me repeat, she was elderly and a bit hard of hearing. I repeated. She thought just a little bit and then she came back with, “I don’t give a damn how it gets done, I just want it done!” I was taken aback! Shocked would be the proper word. She didn’t care about the abused artifacts or the potential for dishonest tax forms either.
Fast forward a year and a half or so, and Clyde was having a conversation with a friend who is a known to us Trump supporter. We were at his home. The news was on and Clyde made a comment about Trump and that was the first mistake. The friend said something, and Clyde answered with a kind of, “yea, but….” The friend yelled at the top of his voice (I know, I was there and heard it two rooms over really loud and clear) — “I know he’s an ass, but he’s getting what I want done.” Said friend attends a Lutheran Church in Roseburg which I believe is probably conservative leaning not that is the point.
The point is that I realized today that what I am a witness to is the problem with society today at least in the United States. Maybe it has always been the problem, but I can tell you I’ve never seen it until the 2016 Presidential campaign. Somewhere along the line the Christians on the right decided they could justify any behavior to get what they wanted. Oh, did I mention the big donor attended the same church as the friend… I knew them both, but they did not know I knew the other. Now, along with Christians we have bigoted (some who are also supposedly Christian) people who think that white supremacy is ok, misogyny is ok, racism is ok… obviously child abuse is ok, because NO one is talking about the photos taken of Trump with the teen girl on a BED on Epsteins private island! These photos have been circulating for years and years!! Long before he was thinking of running for President (I mean, seriously that is).
So, the ephiphany in my mind, and I’ve heard this before, but now I have my own example is that Trump is the symptom. He is not the problem. In and of himself, he is pretty harmless. “WE” as a nation gave him permission to f* us over the way he has. (Remember, no one can take your power without your consent theory?!). And the logic “we” used was that we didn’t care how it got done, we just wanted it done, even by an ass.
Both the vice president of the historical society (Ken Deatherage, who also attends that same Lutheran Church in Roseburg) and the donor are old enough to be my parents. So, they can’t blame the mess on the younger generations. My guess is they inherited the attitude from their parents. Or maybe they just relaxed because their own lives became so cushy. I really have no clue. Our friend, also has a pretty cushy life but he worked for it, either way he see’s the ‘right’ way as the only way. There just is NO middle ground. He spoke very loudly and made himself quite clear that he was willing to pay the price for what he wanted.
In the end, my guess, is all these people will soon be asking themselves what the hell happened. When did things get so out of control? The answer is going to be, it was your vote that let the Geni out of the bottle. Regardless, it is the truth, the man is the symptom of a larger problem. In general our country, has lost its value in ethics, proper morality, the golden rule, you name it. Or perhaps its the top 1% who has lost it. Either way, you’ve got your sign.
Coming Next: Two of my kids are direct descendants of Anse “Devil” Hatfield. He is if I recall correctly their 5th great grandfather. There has been much made of psychological review of at least the other family involved in the famous feud, The McCoys. I have yet, to read a review of anyone or any circumstance related to the psychological review of the Hatfield side of the feud. Being an ex-wife, of their father, being in a marriage that lasted nearly 16 years, and still being in touch with some of the family, puts me in touch with information about the family. Much of which, can’t hurt anyone because the main players have passed away. My theory, however, is that mental illness probably ran on that side of the family. While it probably did not start with Anse, he most certainly passed it on.
“Je Maintiendra” The racist, entitled, pig who was never a police officer-but was very violent in terms of what he thought he could get away with.
I have been dealing with a horrible sense of dread this past week or so. I kept looking at the calendar wondering if it was an “anniversary” time. It took me until yesterday to realize. My father died 37 years ago yesterday.
Yes he was mean. Sadistic is at least part of the description. But, he could also be nice, loving, cuddly, and playful (without it hurting even!). Obviously I loved him, or I would not have a hard time around his death date. But, I was also scared shitless of him too.
After the funeral, either that evening or the next, myself and my step mother and uncles got together to decide who got what. Even things that my step mother said my dad wanted us kids to have an uncle would speak up and say, “No, Alvin said I could have ….(whatever it was)”. To say that I felt stolen from between all of them was to say the least. I was all of 21 years old, pregnant and trying very hard to not let the situation affect my baby. Emotionally I was low key… I was doing all I could do to NOT feel a thing. I did not want all that negativity to hurt my baby in anyway. To say that my uncles hurt my feelings was an understatement. I have kept that a secret until now. The world knows now, but my sister has no clue because she would not be sympathtic in the least. She thinks I go through all this shit with no feeling at all.
During this trip to Oregon to attend the funeral, I had flown in from Ohio where I lived at the time. While in Oregon my uncle Bobo (Alfred Lee) verified a memory for me about an older 1/2 sister that I have. He gave me a name even. Well, the maiden name of the mother. So, from that point on, I knew that the “memory” I had of mom and dad fighting over wether dad would go and see this child was real. Mom wasn’t going to have any part of it. She did not want him to be responsible for child support in any form. I was a little girl and I got that much out of the fight. So, dad snuck and uncle Bobo went with him. They parked on the street and watched the little girl play. According to my uncle the top part of her face looks like me, and the lower part looks like my sister. She was the product of the union of my father and his high school sweetheart (or so I was told). I’m still looking for her.
I flew home… the plane made an emergency landing in Denver. We were told by the pilot something was wrong with the plane and it was being checked over. We were not removed from the plane. We were never told what was wrong. But, eventually we took back off and I got into Covington, Kentucky where the Cincinnatti Airport actually lives. I was emotionally exhausted. My (then) husband wanted sex as soon as I got home. I was four months pregnant– emotionally exhuasted and just had no interest in the least. As was normal for him, he would not take “No” for an answer. I even told him I was really tired and did not feel well because I was so tired. He still insisted…. So, 37 years ago today or tomorrow, I was forced into unwanted sex (again).
This is a really heavy time of year…. because in one month and 5 days it will be the 26 years since I left that husband. That was 1994. In the weeks leading up to this situation many, many things happened. It was a flat out crazy, stupid time. We both did stupid stuff. From my side of it, I was about as unhappy as anyone could be. I wanted out in a big, big way.
Rewind back to 1980. We were newlyweds. He had already informed me that I was to come home from my job and get undressed and wait in bed for him to get home. I’d already been called his “empty headed play thing” more than once. I had already been demeaned and had items put up inside me that hurt like hell. At 18 & 19 years of age, I was no where ready to defend myself from some one like that. He came home from work one night and told me that a newspaper (Cincinnati Enquirer) photographer thought that I was really sexy and wanted to take photos of me. He wanted me to think about it. My instant answer was, “No”. Later after thought, I thought maybe I would. But it had turned out that according to the ex, he’d told the guy no from the get go. It was never a choice. I doubt if it was even true.
Another night he came home…. and brought up the idea of swapping mates with other couples. I can look back now and realize he’d probably had some female catch his eye. But, at the time I took him for his word. It came up in conversation with an employee at… you guessed it the Enquirer. He was a security guard there. I had NO idea people even did these sort of things. The whole idea came as a shock to me. Again, my instant answer was “NO”.
But, I never forgot that question. Would I? Could I? Is that even a real thing? Life went on and the idea just cooked in there somewhere. Fast forward to 1994. The idea came back to the surface. I had filed for divorce but we were still living together and trying to work things out. Call it a crazy time. Regardless of us “trying” to stay together, I was as I said earlier, really, really unhappy. He was preparing to move back to Ohio with two kids and me. I had made up my mind that I was NOT going back to that hell hole. I was staying in California.
I guess in someways I had already begun separating from him. In many ways– I knew by now that he was abusive, selfish, and in terms of sexual behaviors at least partly deviant. I was looking around at all the fish in the sea. Now, I brought up trading mates. I could add excitement to the relationship. It could broaden our horizons. I could sow the wild oats I had never sown. There were all kinds of pluses if it were handled right. I never saw any bad side to it. I am one of those people who when I am feeling “normal” always sees the glass as half full.
He liked that idea. I guess he started searching for a couple right away, or had one in mind. Not sure about that. Either way within a few days he came to me and asked me what I thought about a certain couple who lived around the corner. The man absolutely gave me the creeps. She was ok I had no issue with her. But, I wanted nothing to do with him. I told my ex this.
As it turns out the couple had the same breed as one of the birds I owned. I asked him if they wanted mine. I was off loading my precious birds in preparation for moving to Ohio even though I had absolutely no intent on going. I was so confused. The man happily (so far as I could tell) took the bird, a Senegal Parrot. Days later the man calls me. Tells me that the birds have laid an egg, and asked me if I wanted to come and see it. I said sure.
I grabbed my little boy by the hand and we walked around the corner. I don’t even remember seeing an egg. He opened the back sliding screen door and offered my son the option to go out and play. My son, all of four years old, took the man up on the offer… Out he went.
It made me uncomfortable. I became more uncomfortable when I realized the wife was no where to be seen. I was ready to leave because I did not like my son being out in the yard, basically not being monitored. So, I made a move toward the backyard and was in the process of saying, “thank you, and good-bye”…
The man cornered me and told me that my husband had come to him to talk about swapping mates. I put myself on one side of their dining room table while he stood where he was and informed me that my husband would never have his wife, but he sure was going to have me.
I tried my damdest to run, but I had a child to scoop up, and I had to do it in a calm manner so as to not upset my child. There was too much disadvantage, I lost the fight. I was forced. I can look back now…. and realized that I could have bit the hell out of him. But, I have to say that my experience up to that point probably would have led me to not follow through anyhow… I had a tendency to get hit when I stuck up for myself with the ex.
When the man finished he let me go and went out of my sight. I practically fell into his kitchen sink trying not to vomit. Trying to pull myself together so I could grab my son. I did do that the best I could. We made a beeline for home. When the husband got home I told him what happened. The big tough man who was supposed to love me didn’t even seem like he was sorry. There were no punishments for the man. Not even a suggestion to call the police.
So, 26 years ago, any day now… I was raped again. As I say, this is rough time of year… It is no wonder there is a sense of dread… in my way I’d rather not remember these things or deal with the emotions that still live on inside all these years later.
Note: To my X-husband, who still owes me 30K due to running from child support obligations. I know exactly where you are, Dragunov. I know about your business of removing “dangerous animals”. I know you are “retired”. That you claim your step children and their children as your own all the while ignoring your own. You are really some piece of work. Watch out! Might want to check in with the Chamber of Commerce. BTW, kinda funny that you are still lying after all these years just like that 16 year old boy did. You’ve never volunteered at a Serpatarium, who the hell you trying to fool??? “Have you got to be right or something?” You don’t have a college degree in anything related to your hobby — removing snakes for people. Whatever… You are still a worthless looser. Wait until your present wife figures out what a big liar you are!!! P.S. I know you read this blog sometimes. It is the only way you could have found that number to call years ago….
That was never a true marriage. It never had a chance. I would not have mattered how hard I worked at it, it was always one sided. You were out for yourself. That kind of attitude and behavior does not work when a person tries to couple up with another. Think about that one!
Had a family member send a link to some political stuff. Left leaning which is ok. I am just so overwhelmed with emotion about the state of our nation that I am having trouble absorbing anything new now. For those who give a damn, I never voted for Trump, I never wanted him to win. I have considered him a predator for years before he became professional politician.
Years ago, I heard claims from his (now ex) wife that he was guilty of domestic violence. Years ago, I saw a photo of him sitting on a bed with a teenaged girl who was not his child. Years ago, I learned that the photo was taken at Jeffery Epstiens private island where sexcapades run amock and children are used as if they are an object to be (sexually) used and then tossed away. In the photo both parties are appropriately dressed, there is nothing really bad about it. Except to say that a grown man is sitting on a bed with a young teenage girl. But, said man has never been into the sales of mattresses or bedding, so what the hell? Maybe if was his daughter he was visiting in her room, saying good night or something. But it wasn’t. Those stories from long ago lay dormant for a long time. The man was beyond any sphere of reality that I lived in. Then came the Steele Dossier. I’m sorry but with the things I’ve seen and heard about the man over the years, why question the dossier regardless of how nuts it sounds. The man has a history and it’s just not pretty. He is a predator.
I have been trying to enlighten people about this for four years now. He is probably a child molester. He is racist. He is misogynist… do I really need to go on? I have been asking people for four years (or more) if that daughter in that photo was YOUR DAUGHTER would you still feel the same way about him? What if your daughter was the one he “grabbed by the pussy.” No one that I have met and leans right will even seriously entertain it.
Let’s just sum this up like so many already have — the man is a walking talking mental and emotional wreck with no capacity for compassion, empathy, love, or anything else. It’s all about him, and the almighty dollar. He doesn’t give a rats ass about YOU! So, why did you vote him in? It’s a real question?!
So, I got this link, and I’m overwhelmed and another cousin answers the original post: “I vehemently disagree as I’m full right republican.” Of course this cousin is entitled to this opinion. I can’t say I understand it in the least at this point, but she can have it, I won’t stand in her way.
But, I wrote an answer. And the answer was written from the passenger side of a moving car so it was sloppy and grammatically incorrect. So, I have cleaned it up, and am posting it for the Ethernet, or perhaps the Othernet…or perhaps the Awefulnet, maybe even the Ly’ngNet. It will digitally reside on my Facebook account, my blog, and the Twitter post that I answered:
“What I see & recognize is that we have a man in power who is blatantly gas lighting the nation. Who has now floated the idea of postponing an election because he doesn’t want to loose. With right wingers so stuck in their position that they cant see the forest for the trees. I am sickened by the dysfunction of America. At this point I want to cry every day when I see on the news what white supremacists are doing in the name of God & Country.
Those who support the rights of others (Trump & crew) are in denial of what is really going on out there (in the world), AND support this predator, who now parades as POTUS… need to examine themselves & their beliefs.”
I have seen the election of this power monger not as a political issue. I have seen it as a moral issue. When is it ok for anyone with no sort of moral code ok for a job that requires a moral code? Christian friends have literally said to me, “Yes, He’s an ass, but he’s doing what I want him to do.” Friends that is about as morally hypocritical as one can be. This is precisely where I decided that people on the right really need to examine themselves inwardly at the beliefs they hold. ” They will find that they are able to justify the worst in human behaviors.
A few days ago I disagreed with a friend from high school. Her remarks were obviously angry. Immigration was the hot topic. She is a very right leaning “Christian”. She leans on her said Christianity, and yet she spouts the hate like some regurgitating bird–
So what if her immigrant ancestors came here legally. Nearly all of them came here and mistreated others– call them what you will but the mistreated were people and they ethnicity varied: African, South American, Mexican, Middle Eastern, Jewish, Russian, American Indian, Irish.
Our country has participated in and helped to virtually exterminate a race of many clans of people we call today “American Indians.” These clans spoke different languages, had their own civilized culture, art, spirituality, rules for the home, marriage, hunt, etc. Maybe we didn’t understand their culture, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. Where do we get off claiming our people came “legally” when they were not capable of treating someone deemed below them with kindness and compassion? Were your Ancestors ETHICALLY living their lives? Did they show benevolence, the Christian promise of love and compassion that you espouse and can not even follow yourself?
The friends argument spewed of white entitlement, and there is NO RIGHT to white entitlement! We came, and we conquered! What do we deserve for that??!!!!! Yes, many white people worked hard to help build this nation. But a good percentage of this nation was built by either enslaved people or people who were treated so poorly, paid so little that the reality is they were enslaved. When one looks at it as I see it then immigration ceases to be a political issue. It is a moral issue. It is a humanity issue. It is a question of are you going to treat these souls with kindness and compassion or are you going to toss them away like some piece of worn out shoe leather? Yes, our culture is still under paying people, using them, and tossing them away. Spitting on them because they come from South of the Border!
Btw, a little note. When you offer these words, “I never enslaved anyone, why should I pay?” You are in your way justifying your ancestors behaviors. Racism is most definitely alive and well in our country.
This is the fundamental problem I have with the right at the moment. When they decided as a whole to back a predator they lost me, period. Then as I became more educated and started applying the ethics that I want to run my life by (again) I found that I have probably been incompatible with the right wingers for my entire adult life. As a young person I misunderstood what all the parties stood for, I guess, and I mislabeled myself. I have lived a life incompatible with who I have always really been. Trump was just my make or break moment with the right wingers. Their support for him, and his racism, his woman hating way, his classism, his looking down on the common people– broke my support for them. They will never get me back. I do not see them as the party of the people. Not that any other party is perfect, but at least there are parties that are far more supportive of regular, hardworking, people.
So, I closed my statement on Twitter with this, “Now I am done with this conversation because I don’t want to loose family.” And simply put I do NOT want to loose family, nor friends, nor anyone else that I think might be important to me regardless of the reason. But, the sad, sad truth is, at least in my mind, is if you support a predator — then even if you are family, I really can’t support you. And that is simply the truth.
As a mother of a child who was hurt by a predator. As a woman who was married to a predator. As a child myself, who grew up under the thumb of a sadistic father — I can not support anyone ever who supports any predator —be that person male or female (or other), –be that person black or white, –friend or foe, –family or not. If you support a predator then there is something dysfunctional about you and your thinking. It is time for you to re examine your theories, your beliefs, your logic…call it what you will—but it’s never ok to support a bad guy. Trump is a really BAD guy.
That is my line in the sand. I’m done with my rant now. I’m going back to my corner where I am safe. I am lying low in more than one way now. This stuff this country is going through is really tearing me into pieces emotionally. I do not need it.
A friend asked me about a free/cheap replacement for Microsoft Office (Word Processor) replacement. Just sharing what I wrote back to him in case anyone else needs the information:
There are two really good Microsoft Office replacements—
What I mean by really good, is that they are best considering they are free. They have matured a lot, but you will find some stuff missing compared to Microsoft.
Open Office and this one, Libre Office, are the two I go back to most often. I can say all the same things about Libre Office as I do about Open OFFICE. https://www.libreoffice.org/download/download/
Another open source one. Its been a long time since I’ve looked at it. I am installing it now. Not sure how it is, but like all open source it’s programmed by volunteers. And it’s free to everyone: https://calligra.org/download/
Here is one I have never heard of that looks good, and according to a website I trust, they say it’s good: https://www.freeoffice.com/en/
I am downloading it now to see if it is ok. They also have a free PDF editor, I’m even more interested in that. I’ve been paying for one!! BTW, this one looks a lot like Microsoft version of a word processor so maybe the learning curve would not be so bad??
Oh, believe it or not Microsoft does have a free version of Word. It’s stripped down. But it is usable. I’ve had to use it at times. You will find that at www.office.com
With your Gmail account you have a whole FREE suite of office applications available. Basically put ‘Google Docs’ into a search engine and wait for the links to come up. Click on “Google Docs” and start your document. It will be a a bit confusing at first. But, it does a pretty good job. I use it mostly for college work and I used it a lot more for the Historical Society. The good news is with your Gmail account you also have 15 free gigabytes of free storage on their “cloud’ for keeping documents safe. You have this stuff available to you already with your email account.
About the photo:
You can click on it to make it larger! 2. It is actually three photos ‘stitched’ together to make one huge one. 3. Nope, I don’t know the owners of the property, nor was it a paid shot. 4. Taken in 2016 while on the way home from a camping trip. We had tons of fun. I absolutely LOVED it. It was sooo needed at the time. 5. Taken just south of Sisters, Oregon while on our way to Hwy. 20 so we could go over the McKenzie Pass. 6. Please don’t steal, I actually make my spending money by selling these things. Copyright 2016, Peggy A Rowe-Snyder
An old pic of me, around 22 yrs. old. Ran me through a Photoshop filter, years ago. Looking entirely too much like my daddy. Photo taken @ Berry’s Drug Store in New Richmond, Clermont, Ohio.
I think I figured out why I have been avoiding the news like the plague. Yesterday it hit me. I was good until the camera’s zoomed in on the lines of police, and all of them holding those black night sticks. Today the flash backs have started… yesterday it was tears. I read recently to just accept the emotion and let it “wash over” me. See it for what it is something temporary. So, that is what I am trying to do. Same said article said it’s actually a good sign. It’s kind of like the beginning of the end-healing that is. It is most definitely something I do not recall sharing with anyone. I have a few of those. Where the violence of it is so bad (in my mind) that why would anyone want to hear it. No, I’ve never been beaten by a cop. I’m a woman who has an ex husband who liked to force many types of items. If you can imagine the worst, minus the horrid beating you can imagine… then you have probably imagined it close to correctly. He was a security guard for a time. Took a special class in using the weapon–something obviously I still see as a tool of torment. Believe me, I do see it that way to this day. Its not like I ended up black and blue—well, not in all the obvious places anyhow. It is what it did to my heart, my soul, and willingness to confront nearly anything. I’ll fight to the death for my kids–but its taken me years and years to fight for myself. I mean really fight–not just lip service or a faux toughness so well known on my paternal side of the family. One of the last things that my last therapist said to me that still at my age, I avoid conflict at almost any cost. Can it be any wonder? I did not go out of my way to look for these situations. I wandered into them as a young woman, or in this case a teenager. I married a monster is what I did–one that even my mother said reminded her of my father at the time. But, how does a teenager put that into perspective, especially when things are feeling so good in the moment? So, the bottom line is that I married that which I was familiar with. With age and experience one can see it. It evolved into one mess on top of another.
“Je Maintiendra” The racist, entitled, pig who was never a police officer-but was very violent in terms of what he thought he could get away with. (abt. 21 &20 yrs. old)
A wee bit of a change of subject. Black lives certainly do matter. That is beyond any reasonable demand for a person who is reasonable. Of course they matter. I would not take that fact away from a one of them. They do have 400 years of history behind them (at least!) that still plays in their life on a day to day basis. They deserve a much better deal than what has been handed to them by the white culture, patriarchy, & government. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Myself & oldest (mid 30’s now). By this time in my life I had lived through so many insertions of alien items into my body including homemade “toys”–that for really the rest of our relationship, I did not want the man touching me. It is truly a miracle I managed to stay married as long as I did. I am about 23/24 years old here. San Francisco, CA ca. 1985ish.
But, for far more than 400 hundred years women have been abused and mistreated by men. The biggest offenders seem to be white men, I could be wrong. The fact, that someone only one year older than I was at that time was capable of such heinous behavior just goes to show what has been handed down from generation to generation. He had to pick it up from somewhere right? The mentality? Nothing he ever did was or even could have been hinted at as being something needed for survival or any other good purpose. It was all about power, violence–keeping someone in their place mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. It worked-I stayed married to him for nearly 16 years. When I finally realized the example I was setting for the kids–that is when I left. He did his damndest to stop it too. Keeping me up all night until I agreed to do things his way. Reminding me that I had some kind of thought deficient and could not see repercussions or consequences of my behavior on my own. Giving me stupid choices, actually believing that I’d pick the worst of them. How many of you were given this option when leaving your spouse: “You can have the kids and everything it takes to make them a home, or you can have the computer.” Even then, I looked at him and asked him what kind of idiot he thought I was. If he was willing to treat me like that, then in what horrible ways was he actually willing to hurt his children? If I could have expressed any of this in court papers at the time, I’d probably been given sole custody, if, I was believed. And for the most part I wasn’t. I wasn’t really believed by the courts until the end of the ordeal when he was stupid enough to speak his mind to a social worker after I gave Wesley up to the “system” to get him the mental health help he needed. She did not tell me everything he said.. just a little bit. She shook her head and said he was unbelievable, she looked at me, “How did you stay married to him for that long?” I believed marriage was scared and forever. I over heard a conversation between adults as a child that inferred that women/wives had a “duty” (which at this point really proves men feeling quite entitled). That along with active behavior on his part to make sure that I felt small and uncapable… that my feelings and dreams were not even close to acceptable or even apart of reality. That is how I stayed married that long. That night stick of his… it was part of a long, long horribly painful journey that I am fairly sure I will never be able to put in its place. Sad thing is…my story is no where near close to the worst out there, not over time, not over generations, not even in modern days. He damn near killed me, and if I had died, it would have been by my own hand. It came that close in the end. This is why — in my mind, though, I would never for a moment take away one second from the BLM movement, but , I do have to say that all lives matter. These entitled, racist pigs, regardless of color of skin (No where near all of them police) need to be brought under control. Too many people are hurt, too many are dying.
Not that I don’t understand where they are coming from. These people are angry, and I am too. I read something this morning that “white mamma’s” need to share the burden of grieve with the “black mamma’s”. I absolutely can not imagine loosing a child at any age and no matter the circumstances. Becoming a mother has taught me so much about unconditional love. Any mother who loves their kids would fight for their kids. I’ve done it over and over and over again. George Floyd was calling for his mother, and that is absolutely HEARTBREAKING. When Wesley basically over dosed me on that “honey butter” crap, at one point, it was so bad, and I was so scared that I was calling for my mother. I have 100% empathy for Mr. Floyd. I also have 100% empathy for his mother if she had to witness it, or hear it. I can’t imagine the heart break. I’ve seen that some people are already trying to villainize Mr. Floyd. That is sickening. Even if he was a small time petty thief, he did not deserve to die for that. And honestly, those three other officers who stood by and watched this, and then did not attempt a revive the man need to be charged with whatever applies: neglect of human life. or something. They could have brought him back. This makes a whole group of people feel as if they are literally fighting for their very lives. Such blatant disrespect for life. Sickening. As a mother though, yes, I do share in the grief.
We are considering moving our residence — out of the immediate area. I keep finding properties in other areas of Oregon where the houses cost less. We can upscale our standard of living and spend less money. This place could actually be worth something as people run from the cities. It is more feasible now than ever in my life–the moving away from cities that is. People are being forced to work from home. Some are realizing it’s not so bad after all.
Back in the 1990’s I told an employment counselor that was one of my dreams. I wanted to live in a rural area and work from home. This was around 1996 or 1997 (or so). The woman literally told me to get my head out of the clouds!! And now a bit over 20 years later, we are saving our most important “data” to the “cloud”. All of us have our heads in the clouds now.
I have found a 3 bedroom, with a 2 car garage in an area that is very affordable for us. Plus it has a little side building that is a studio apartment. We could rent that out and make it all the more affordable for us. This place has a basement too!! Can you imagine the storage area?! And room/protected space for his beloved Corvair to boot! A dream come true…. an office and sewing room!
We are waiting on word from the Oregon Department of Veterans Affairs right now. A state level VA loan, hopefully will soon be in the works. And then again, it could all fall through too! LOL
We’d still be on bus lines, if kids actually want to visit. We only have a couple of those. LOL. A teaching hospital in the area affiliated with OSU, specialty cardiology is there. Medford isn’t that far away, and neither is Redding. Even if they were not there, we are both fully aware that we entering the final phases of our life. We’ve both lived way past what we thought was our expected lifetime. Every day is a blessing these days.
May as well chase dreams as we can. We would not be closer to the Bay Area or the ocean, but we’d be closer to Mammaw! 🙂 That part would be cool, as she’s made it clear she wants us around for holidays.
Ok, back to school work. One more essay due in 3 days! This one about the importance of Ellis Island in American History!!
This is Snuggly, one of my very special hens. (Copyright 2020, Peggy A Rowe-Snyder)
So, our “President” has used the war powers act to order meat packers back to work.
I wonder, has anyone given any thought to the fact that farmers are flat out killing their animals since they are currently a loosing proposition. Rather stupid, I’d rather see that stuff going to food banks.
But, if there is no source of meat, just what are these meat packers supposed to pack?
My deduction: Its probably pretty obvious to most, but this decision like all the rest is politically driven. Trump is obviously getting desperate to make the economy LOOK normal. The bottom line is to be able to tout the fact that he’s seen the country through a Pandemic and saved the economy and therefore deserves another four years in the White House.
Whatever you do, don’t buy it. His job is no where near complete yet. By the time election time comes we’ll probably be smack dab in the middle of the 2nd wave of this pandemic. That is if the experts don’t have some sort of medication that lessens the outright damage this virus exacts from the human body.
The man (The Dumb Trump) has not made a move that hasn’t been politically motivated. There is no way anything is going to change now. Now, especially it is time to keep this in mind. Our big job is to vote the man out of office and pray he leaves peacefully, and that his followers are not the extremists they appear to be. Quite a few from the area where I live are promising Civil War if he’s not reelected. (Really??!!).
We can do better. Now is the time to Make America Great Again—MAGA his ass right out of office!!
I would have never read this book on my own. I am perfectly female in this way. I do not want to read about bullets, blood or dying. I spent at least 2/3rds of the book asking myself what the point was! It all fell into place as I read the two chapters from week 4 of class.
A good deal of the information from class is all new news to me. I knew of Lenin and Stalin. I knew it was bad. I’d heard it was violent and bleak. But one cannot picture it until they have learned about it in some detail. This book gives excellent detail to surroundings, and detail into the possible thoughts of the characters, especially the main character, Mr. Rubashov.
Darkness at Noon is a story about Stalin, and his party of supporting Bolsheviks. It was about the doing away of any person who so much as breathed a breath of air contrary to the what the party ordered or believed in. Rubashov was the last tile in a line of dominos. When he fell, the fight was over, those who symbolized something that went against the party line. “…a shrug of eternity” — a very small cog in the big wheel of life, what may have mattered to Rubashov no longer mattered at all. It symbolized the end of an era. The end of a particular people doing a particular job in a particular way. In doing all this, the story also shows us that Rubashov despite it all, was still a party man, else he probably would not have given himself up by capitulating to his jailers. In the very beginning of the book even before the table of contents, the author gives us a HUGE clue as to the nature of the story itself. The story is fictious, but the main character is a synthesis of people who really existed. They all lived through the Moscow Trials and the author knew more than one of them personally. That little paragraph is very telling and really, is what the reader needs to constantly remind him or herself of while reading it.
The Moscow Trials are in general seen as part of the Great Purge that was ordered by Stalin himself. There were three trials. All the people tried were Bolshevik party leaders who were by then older, most had been very, very loyal. Stalin was looking to purge the system of anyone who had an opinion that was against him, and who was perceived as a threat in terms of treason toward Stalin. The perceived threat need not to be real.
One man who was part of the old Bolshevik party and even more important he was part of the “Central Committee of the Communist Party”- he was there to help build it up, he was a decision maker, was active and loyal. Mr. Kamenev was part of the Trotsky-Zinoviev Center (the Trial of Sixteen), which was the show trial he ended up being found guilty of. He and others from those trials were “interrogated” (tortured is probably a more accurate term).Though they claimed to be loyal to the Communist Party in the end they were weakened (through torture) until they were willing to “confess” their crimes. Originally, the trials were private, but Stalin turned around and used them for propaganda purposes. But, part of Mr. Kamenev background was that he was a father, and he had been shown evidence that his son was being investigated by the authorities. This was part of the pressure that the older Bolsheviks were feeling when they were offered a deal: To basically give up, confess, and for that confession the men who were being interrogated would have saved their families including Kamenev’s son who was in line to be executed from anymore of the cruelties being handed out at the moment. Obviously, this was the character of Father and Son with the last name of Keiffer in the book. So, we must also keep in mind while reading that not only is the main character a synthesis of many real people but other characters in the book are also representative of real people at the time of the Great Purge. Mr. Kamenev was killed in 1936 (though Stalin started moving against him in 1925). And like Mr. Keiffer in the book, probably did give his life in exchange for a peaceful life for his family.
No. 1 must be Stalin. The name is fitting considering the adulation he was receiving in the form of poems, and whatnot, especially towards the end of his life. (Rasanovsky, 509) The author of our textbook makes it clear that there was a “Cult of Personality” involved with Stalin and his image. This would explain his photograph in what seem like every main room of homes and offices.
According to Merriam-Webster Dictionary a “cult of personality” is “a situation in which a public figure (such as a political leader) is deliberately presented to the people of a country as a great person who should be admired and loved.” One need only look at the documentary videos. The images say it all. Armies marching carrying posters of Stalin as if he were someone who is above all—possibly even a God.
Although, the author of the book says that the main character is a synthesis of more than one person, one reads about the history of Niolai Bukharin and wonders if there is really any other person mixed into that personality. Mr. Bukharin was part of the Bolshevik party nearly from the get-go, he worked under Lenin, and participated with the Party work. He was a traveled man, in that he ended up in exiled a few times, at least once with Lenin. He was sent abroad also by Stalin to negotiate the purchase of the Lenin and Marx Archive from Germany as well. His second wife’s name was Anna Larina. A photo of her shows her as particularly striking. It has come to mind that Arlova represents this beautiful woman. A piece of her lives in Rubashov, she tapped messages on the walls of her prison wall to others around her.
It is easy to see how Bukharin could have been Rubashov. During his trial, which was the “The Trial of the Twenty-One”, it became completely clear over time to the Russian people that the charges against him were absurd. What made them seem extremely absurd was the man’s absolute history of support for the party and what it did and represented. He supported NEP, he supported the stage of Industrialization that took place, he could live with the “liquidation” of people as a means to an end and voiced it. Yet, he was also the one man who ended up labeling Stalin as a “Genghis Khan” and ended up questioning the whole movement, just like our main character, Rubashov. He MUST be the figure that the author used to base Rubashov one last gift of loyalty to the old party, his life. He ended his statement at his trial like this, “the monstrousness of my crime is immeasurable especially in the new stage of struggle of the U.S.S.R. May this trial be the last severe lesson, and may the great might of the U.S.S.R. become clear to all” One can only imagine all the mental gymnastics it took to go from where he was to here, and some more to be able to justify any of it at all.
Before concluding, I’d like to add that I believe that the author, Arthur Koestler, even told us quite a bit about himself with this story. He is part of that synthesis that is Rubashov. Accidently running into a little about him while reading about the Trial of the Twenty-One. He was a devoted Communist. It was this trial complicated by the absurd charges filed against Bukharin that caused him to break with Communism. He, himself, must have had to do a LOT of soul searching to conclude he came to.
In the story there was a section where decency was talked about Rubashov and a neighboring cell mate (No. 402). In his way Rubashov aka Bukharin/Koestler was fighting over the definition of decency the whole time. What was real, what was decency? In whose name and in what style of politics does one be decent for in terms of people? In the end, Rubashov decided that decency was sticking to the party line, capitulating to the party. He literally sacrificed himself for the party (and in real life, his family –Bukharin).
In who’s name was the barrel raised? Was it raised for the people? Arlova? The Central Committee of the Communist Party? The Bolshevik Party? Stalin? Maybe it was raised in all their names by that point in history, excepting for the ordinary people who were just trying to survive it all. The characters represented in the book all played the parts good and bad. Bukharin probably came closest to realizing just how wrong he was. Perhaps in reality the barrel was raised for the people, for they were the ones who suffered the consequences of this grand plan to take Russia from a temporary Socialism to Communism knowing there would be suffering and liquidating along the way and justifying it as an end to the means. I think at the time, the barrel was raised in the name of an insane Stalin. After all these years, I think, it was raised in the name of the people, and probably should have been literally raised once more for Stalin himself. There was nothing to admire there.
Personally, I cannot imagine living during these times. The terror of it, the famine. It is hard to contemplate how this all even came about. Humanity can be so cruel. And yet, we know history repeats itself however, dooming and damning it may be.
“all became quiet,…”My guess is that the author had passed out at least once in his life. I personally have passed out and gone code blue. All does become quiet, except the noise of the ocean waves, which in my guess is probably the noises the body makes as it makes its final movements, and then decides to reboot itself. There is no time there, no contemplations, no light, and no tunnel. At least not for me. I learned that when I am dead, I am dead. Gone to sleep is such an understatement, most of humanity has no idea how fragile they really are.
It was the beginning of the end of an Era. It was most certainly the end of the Bolsheviks as they once were. It was the end of many people, and their ideals, and dreams. With Stalin near his end, and a population moving on to a different life…. It was all becoming quiet. It was a process for sure, as all death is. It is something we do from the moment we are born. On so many levels it does and will all become quiet.
Please note that if you are interested in reading this book that it is available very inexpensively in many outlets on the internet. The book, originally published in America in 1941, a copy of which cost me under $5 for the book and shipping. It is also freely available at the Internet Archive, and the Internet Library (it’s on loan there).
History Timeline (Assignment for Immigration Class, I’m sure will be edited. I do not consider myself done.)
May 6 – The Chinese Exclusion Act is the first significant law that restricts immigration into the U.S.
The following artwork (line art?) is from a Danish immigrant newspaper called the, Bien. It is written exclusively in Danish. This photo is from April 21, 1882. I asked a Danish friend to transcribe the article for me. He discovered that the text all around the artwork is about a man who went fishing in Lake Winnebago. My friend said the story is boring!
I was disappointed that there was no text about this photo or about what prompted why it went into the public. I almost tossed the photo and started looking elsewhere.
And then I realized — This paper was published in San Francisco just before the Chinese Exclusion Act was made into law. The Chinese people had a huge presence in San Francisco and Northern California. Even back then there was a China town section in San Francisco.
So, at the very least one can look at the photo and interpret what it is trying to say with history being used to place it in context. The Chinese started coming over to the US in 1848. They were allowed in only as laborers. In 1868, The Burlington Treaty specifically allowed open immigration from China to America. But, less than 20 years later came the Chinese Exclusion Act.
When this artwork was published the Chinese were victims of “sustained” violence and other abuses. Including racism where the “natives” (not Indians) thought themselves quite superior and justified their behavior based on their very poor assumptions about who the Chinese were and how smart they really were.
When I look at this artwork, I am sad to see that the Danish people see the Chinese this way. Everyone in the picture looks male to me. We are primarily people who are laborers is what I surmise. China Town already looks crowded from the looks of the buildings. A reflection of how our culture put people in their place in terms of housing. The same happened to the Jewish in New York. The fact that it was printed at all without some text with it – I think shows how much talk there is about the impending new law. And the attitudes that the new immigrants, the Danish, have picked up on the attitudes of “white” people at the time.
Pass this one around. I could not have said any of it better. This all hit me when the Republican leadership said that grandparents should think about giving their lives up to give their grandchildren better lives. Really? When did grandparents become a zero value commodity? This is when it suddenly dawned on me that people who scream that they are pro-lifers are probably the worlds biggest hypocrites. As is natural for me, it made me sad. I hate seeing the bad sides of people. I just don’t even want to acknowledge it. In some ways, this is where being a fence sitter actually works. A fence sitter like me can take a centrist point of view— I don’t believe in abortion for myself and I have lived that way. But, I do believe in women having the right to make the decision for themselves. I do not believe in forcing my personal choice on others. I do believe the way we treat immigrants and migrants is wholly indefensible. I do believe we need some more common sense gun control (Clyde and I disagree on this point, what I see as common sense, he sees as government control). I can’t ignore the loss of lives every time a (Usually WHITE) young man shoots up a school yard, theater, or some other group gathering. It’s time we treat our mentally ill humanely, and teach our sons that they are not privileged over another person regardless of skin color or sex. It’s time to put bullying in its place –away, 1000% NOT tolerated. Done with this particular rant.
An essay I wrote today about a book, Guarding the Golden Door by Roger Daniels, we are reading for a history class at OSU called Immigration to America from 1880. I wasn’t going to post it here, but I mention a little bit about Douglas County in it. If you would like to know more about where the Chinese worked in Douglas County I can tell you about the landmarks that are out on Cow Creek out past Riddle and before you get to Glendale. China Ditch is mentioned and that’s out North Myrtle Creek. I know a tiny bit about China Sam who lived in Roseburg. And I love to research this stuff!! Hope you enjoy!
There is an image at the link below. Off white people are holding a sign saying that, “Immigrants make America Great”. Truth is without Immigrants there would be no America at all. They are what made and continue to make America great! And yet, they are perceived to this day as secondary citizens, not much more in the hierarchy than legalized slavery. We owe immigrants a debt of thanks, for they take the ‘dirty jobs’ that most of us snub our noses at. Thank an immigrant for being willing to work in unsafe, unsanitary environments getting a sub standard wage doing the things we would not lower ourselves to do. Thank them and be grateful.
In chapter 1 of Roger Daniels book, “Guarding the Golden Door” gives us an introduction to a subject that he feels is vastly under studied [pg. 6], Immigration Policy in America. He makes is quite clear from the very first sentences of the chapter that American Immigration policy is often “…. conceived in ignorance, …falsely presented to the public, and had consequences never undreamt about by its creators.” The author goes on to introduce the idea of nativism and how the policies themselves along with attitudes of Americans have been non-consistent, except perhaps in terms of racism, along with other unkind treatment given to immigrants who do not live up to an American’s view of what “white” in America is. [pg. 7] He starts his book and his argument with the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act by saying that pointing out that this Act be, “…a nodal point in the history of American Immigration Policy.” By using the term “nodal point” the author points out that this 1882 policy was a focus point, a very good example of Immigration policy along with political, social, and cultural drama of an American bipolar response to immigration and immigrants. Or as he puts it on page 6 where he introduces the idea of one theme in the book, the “dualistic attitude that most Americans have developed towards immigration and immigrants, on the one hand reveling in the nation’s immigrant past and on the other rejecting much of its immigrant present.”
This theme he writes about the dualistic nature of American attitude is voiced in modern America. Growing up in California one of the most diverse populations in the country in terms of immigrants I often heard Mexican Americans talked about in despicable terms growing up. “They need to go back where they came from.” As if they were not here before the rest of us. And if the source produce at the grocery store dried up and the products were no longer available, most of the family members who voiced such a horrible attitude would have been begging for those underpaid agricultural workers to come back. The pay for picking produce is below what most American’s consider necessary to keep up their standard of living.
Yet, those same family members – were proud to be Scotch, Irish, Welsh, English, Dutch, German, and Danish. Not of a one of those named ethnicities originate in North America. Perhaps it was we, who should have gone back to where we belonged. Daniels has this “attitude” of the American people completely right. Go to another place in the country, as I have, and you will hear of another group of people who is being abused in the very exact same way. In the Midwest, at least with some, the disrespect was for the black population. Yet, if we are white, and have long roots on this continent our very own ancestors probably had something to do with bringing some of their ancestors here. It is not like they came over on a cruise ship looking for Fantasy Island. So, I can verify with my own examples of that “dualistic attitude.” Therefore, I feel he is completely right. American have in general wanted the cake and to eat it too!
IF those two examples are not enough, listen to Rush Limbaugh or Glenn Beck on their radio programs.
Mr. Daniels points out Founding Fathers, Thomas Jefferson and George Washington knew that immigration was key to growing our nation. [pg. 6, & 7] It was considered necessary. George Washington even voiced our countries eagerness to have immigrants come to America to live. Yet, John Adams another Founding Father, led an administration that put into place the Alien Sedition Acts in the 1790s. Mr. Daniels points out that this was anti-immigration policy that aimed to keep people out of the country who might vote Jeffersonian rather than for the Federalists. Not only were American’s attitude dualistic but from the beginning of our country we celebrated and invited in the immigrants with one face and cursed them and worked to keep them out with the other.
The author then seqways back to the Chinese Exclusion Act. The author points out that until the Chinese Exclusion law immigration law was “minimal” and that to be naturalized a person need only be a “free white person”, while qualifying that further, the truth was that a person needed to be white. It was the fact that these prior laws were minimal that made the Chinese Exclusion law such a focal point. At this juncture in history America had become blatantly racist in terms of Asians and who they were. Asians were a people that needed to be controlled. We would gladly take advantage of their very cheap labor but as a country we were also very happy to tell them to, “go back to where they belong.”
Here in Oregon, and specifically in Douglas County where I live, I could take you to several spots where the Chinese were instrumental in laying down railroad track through this mountainous landscape. The work was dangerous, and it was hard. Their labor was also used on other projects around here, one of the bigger projects is today called, “China Ditch”. It is way out of the way, in the “boonies” one might say. But, the scar on the mountain side still shows the mark of the labor that these men put in to get water from one side of the mountain to the other so that men of means could take gold from the Umpqua Basin and lift up their standard of living. The West probably might not have been “won” had it not been for hard working Chinese and the white men who were so willing to exploit them.
Chapter 1 is an introduction to several ideas: Nativism, America’s consistent two faced attitude towards immigrants that includes the racism along with the ability to take advantage of another people and the inconsistent way in which America immigration policies have been set forth over the years.
Side note: In fifth grade It think it was, I had to do a report. I don’t remember just what the report could be about. I only remember that I settled on researching and reporting on the Chinese and their labors on the California railroads. It amazes me how much I am using knowledge gleaned all those years ago today. I remember from way back then that the treatment of Asians in America was unforgivable. Today American’s enjoy a life that was built upon the backs of others that our ancestors really wanted nothing to do with, and thought were below “their dignity.” With their assumptions of just who these “others” were, American’s used their notions to justify looking down on others and abusing them in anyway they saw fit. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again (and again, and again)— American’s have a pitifully poor history when it comes to the treatment of anyone deemed not white, and that was the majority of the rest of the world, including a lot of “white” people who were early on defined as other than white. It mattered not — if you were white or black if you were Jewish, Catholic, German, or Asian. All were deemed to be 2nd class citizens, all were seen as nothing more than labor. Most were forced into a life of misery barely above the life of slavery. We American’s have very little from our past to be truly proud of. We are a very arrogant people.
IF you think me wrong, look at what the attitudes of our forbearers and how they affect today’s history in the making. Trump’s nativists attitudes could not be more blatant. Nor can his racism. He is a man who soaked up his parents attitudes like a sponge, and lives the attitude to this day. Present example with him that comes to mind is him hiring illegal immigrants for low wages at his high prices exclusive clubs, and then turning around and politicalizing the fact that they are here at all, and accusing them all of being criminals, or secondary citizens. He has made it clear that if you don’t have something to offer America then you are not welcome here. I’d love to point out to him that when those people come here to labor in our strawberry and artichoke fields, when they pick our grapes, and our walnuts, as they pack our melons in the fields — they are giving us something. They are giving us their blood, and sweat, their labor and their youth, their living and often their very lives.
Good news for me! The cardiologists office was aware that insurance was refusing to cover my medications. Because my old doctor had retired, no one in the office knew why. I told them what the old cardiologist had told me. The nurse on the other side of the phone answer to my answer was, “well they are not nice!” LOL– yea, well, that’s life! Or as I said when I was a kid, “that’s how the ball bounces…”
Either way, the doctors office has given 2 weeks worth of samples to hopefully last until they can get insurance to pay for the medication. I guess, we will see. It could be we’ll find out that taking the really good new medication is just putting off the inevitable for awhile–that I’ll still end up on the 2nd best medicine. But, I guess, I’ll wait the two weeks and see what happens… right at the moment, I have nothing to loose.
So, it will take a few days for me to get my strength back. I had reached the point where I really couldn’t even bring in an armful of groceries from the car. So, while I am recouping, I will concentrate on my classes.
My mother, P. L. Coop Rowe –I don’t claim the Doyal part.
I have discovered that My Heritage is letting people use their colorizer software for free, right from their homepage. You upload a black and white photo, and seconds later, literally, they show you a colored photo. The software is not perfect, occasionally it doesn’t get a hand or an ear. Then the coloring is so poor the that person looks as if they have a dead hand or ear. But, all in all, I can’t complain. This same job done by hand using photoshop would have taken me hours!! Give it a try, while you can! The photo here is a colorized b&w photo. Looks good to me!
Something peaceful to contemplate while visiting. Thank you for coming by. This photo is available for reprints — inquire within. Copyright 2018, Peggy Ann Rowe – Snyder
Not that there are many of you. But, wanted to let you know that I will slow down in posting a.) because a new quarter has started but mostly, b.) I have run out of the medicines that keep me from suffering from the symptoms of heart failure. Insurance does not pay for the medications. Here in America to buy the name brand which is the only form available costs $560 a month. If we want to live in a tent, then we could afford the medication. I was sending off to Canada and getting a generic from them for $70 a month. But now, with this corona virus thing, they are not even acknowledging my order for a refill. It has been days. I’m on half a dosage now to make the medications last longer. I’ll be out this week.
Without the medications, and the symptoms have already started, I can’t walk up a small incline. I can not push a vacuum cleaner. I can not mow my grass. I can not do much of anything. It is debatable in my mind if I can even keep going to school. We’ll see how it goes. But, yea, I’ve believed in Universal Health care/insurance since I was 16 and heard Teddy Kennedy talk about it on the local radio. I really think this country needs it more now considering this virus going around. If I end up dead from this, and I doubt I will, but if, the message would be to keep pushing some form of universal health care. We are human, we all get sick, and it is only humane to be sure that everyone it taken care of. Maybe that’s mom in me, but that is how I feel.
I have called the cardiologist, and asked for whatever medications are 2nd best. My normal cardiologist got pneumonia and had to retire early. So, I have a new unnamed doctor who will be in on Monday and I hope help. I really have no clue how heart failure was treated before this new medication came along, so I do not know what to expect. That is probably part of my issue.
And no, I do not have true heart failure, but what I do have gives me symptoms of it, and it is 1000% debilitating. Frightening to put it lightly. It still has the ability to kill be because it causes my heart to be weakened. Because of the damage done by the onset of the disease my heart is already weakened, and that is why I feel symptoms already. So, I’ll be taking more naps, doing a lot less work, sitting around more… thinking more cause I can’t move around much. I pray I don’t get the virus-if I do it will kill me.
Also I know from previous experience that this not only takes a physical toll. It affects the mind as well. I got to feeling so badly that I made it through my youngest’s graduation barely, and then I drove off intending to end my life in some obscure place. What saved my life was the fact that the car broke down. I called my hero of a husband and the man came running. There is no doubt that no matter how stupid I can be, that man loves me with all this heart. I cried that whole night long…. and I knew something wasn’t right, but I had not yet realized it was a serious health issue. The condition was just beginning to present itself, sort of. So, there are actually many layers to this condition to watch out for. Enough that it has slowed me down, and affected my physical and mental health before. So, I know what the potential is here.
In the meantime, Take care, and be safe. Take this virus seriously as you would any other serious disease. Peg
Note: Spring 2020 quarter has started. We were asked to answer a question relating to this weeks reading in our United States and Religion class. My one or two paragraph answer turned into an imperfect essay. 🙂 But, I got a really good grade on it, and the Professor commented that it was very well thought out. She did not say if I was right or wrong. But, here it is.
Which group do you think was most successful in producing religious converts: Spanish Franciscans, French Jesuits, or white slave owners? Why?
In a way, I’d like to see religion taken out of the equation completely. Can I say, let’s just look at the way the Natives and Slaves were treated. Let me just say ahead that part of this information is actually from a book I read probably six months ago called Siege and Survival. It is about the what the Menominee people went through from before white people showed up. The white people being Jesuit priests. So much of my knowledge base about the French Jesuits probably come from that and the research I did after reading it because it piqued my interest in the subject.
I know that religion is the subject of this class, and I realize that religion could never be totally removed from the situation because religion and the corresponding beliefs of each sect have a lot to do with how the Natives and Slaves were treated.
Lets just look at how each sect or group of people treated the Natives or slaves –
Slavery was justified by the idea of white supremacy. It was motivated by financial greed of white people who considered themselves as superior to the Slaves & Natives. Assumptions were made that the African peoples had no spirituality at all. In those days, a lot of Christianity was based on the hell and brimstone theory, which justified (I think) the idea that one could treat another in anyway they choose. Because they viewed the slaves as beneath them, they saw their treatment as appropriate. The outcome was too justify use of violence to deliver whatever it was that the superiors wanted. The “whatever” being labor, or fruits of labor, or being sure that a people took on the Christian mantle so that both the slave and the master could be saved by Jesus/God. The violence includes but it not limited to whipping, beating, emotional and mental control techniques, rape, etc. We read just a little about that in the Joyner article. How many people can you convert when 20% of those you are trying to convert already have their own idea of religion (the Muslims), and/or some other form of spiritualism? Take that number and subtract any number of those who were beaten, whipped, or raped. I have no clue how many were converted, but it seems logical to me that the numbers might be somewhat in error considering the slave had to answer that particular question (not that it was ever asked) in the what that the master saw fit.
I was born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area. I grew up, probably, no further than five miles from Mission San Jose. I was across the bay from Mission Dolores. I was down the freeway from Mission Solano. Its not that I am any expert, but it was part of my education as a kid to learn about the Mission system.
The Franciscans were in the Western part of North America for at least two reasons: to convert the natives and to help establish Spanish control over the area as a colony. Of course, the Spaniards expected to make some sort of monetary gain from the area. Unfortunately, I believe that money has everything to do with how people are treated to this day.
It is a matter of fact, that the Spanish Franciscans, are also a branch of the Catholic faith and so have in its background some or most of the same foundational spiritual guidance as the French Jesuits. But, unlike the French Jesuits they had no problems with resorting to violence to get the labor they wanted out of the poor people they were forcing (excuse me, converting to) their religion on. I was taught as a kid, that the Franciscans were very violent toward the Natives. I learned the term paternalist in my recent past, and this is how the Franciscans viewed the Natives. They felt they had the obligation to over see what the Natives did and correct them and to convert them. So, the Indians were their primary source of labor so far as I remember. The mission system, and the Franciscans themselves got rich from exploiting that labor. The Natives were basically treated as slaves to be converted to Christianity. It is debatable that the Franciscans ever treated the Natives any better than those master’s treated their slaves who were laboring in the South.
So, while there is no shortage of Catholics in America (and I am not anti-Catholic) the same logic applies to my thoughts about Franciscans as the logic I used above with the Master/Slave relationships. It was the assumed the Natives had no religion and had to be taught or converted. How many were going to genuinely convert if they are being misused and abused? Beating a person into submission as it concerns religion is nothing short of brainwashing. Can a brainwashed person truly convert? They can believe they have, the converter can believe they have, but deep down inside, are they not the person they always were?
I get the idea, and I might be wrong, that the French Jesuits were in North America purely to convert the Native population. So, this takes out money as any sort of justification or motivation for the treatment of peoples. One good thing about the Jesuit sect is that they believed in trying to learn and understand the language of the people they were trying to convert. They believed that their religion could be worked with, within the Native people’s culture. Jesuits clearly felt paternalistically toward the Natives, we see that when reading “Black Robe.” But, the paternalism lead to a more patient and understanding of the Natives. So, at least at first, and in theory, labor was not necessarily forced upon the Natives. It was bargained for. In exchange for labor the Natives were offered food, clothing, and protection. So, at least outwardly, there was not the coercion that the others used against their underling slave or Native. This is not to say that there wasn’t manipulation used, but there was not nearly as much violence involved. One could call the bartering that was done bribery, and I would not argue. But the bottom line is that the Natives in the Jesuits territory may have had their lives less discombobulated by the presence of the them.
So, therefore, who in my mind, who was most successful in producing converts? The definition of success is subjective in this case. Are we to qualify that with pure numbers? If that were the case, then probably the masters in the South would win. Plainly, slave populations were not decimated by the diseases of the white men. But, in terms of pure conversion not won by violence, where the Native or slave was truly converted? I bet; the Jesuits were the most successful.
Thank you so much for being an active and resourceful student; it was a pleasure having you in my class! I loved reading your discussion posts and have come to realize that you are a strong and kind woman and mother. Your kids should be proud of you!
Your final grade in my class is A.
My grades will not all be A’s. In fact, this is the only A that I expect. This is my Women’s Gender & Sexuality Studies class. The topic interested me. I also knew that I had a chance to share experience with younger women. So, I did. I did not, however, think I’d walk away with an A.
I hope to get a B in my math class, and U.S. History class. My writing class, which was taken because one more English class was required, and though it was interesting, was the one where when I got overwhelmed after being sick is the one, I really let go the most. I’m lucky to pull a C in that class.
This quarter I did not get the classes I wanted. Most of them I guess, are not offered in the spring. But, the classes that I did choose fulfills several requirements for the degree. So this quarter I have: Religion & U.S. (History class, & Philosophy class.), History of Russia (required non-U.S. History class), Immigration in the U.S. from 1880. and Math 65.
The immigration class will probably be really fun. But only because I have immigrant gr gr grandparents who came from Denmark after the 1880. They came over in 1885. So, I hope to learn more about why they did that.
I am following my Drs. advice to stay in and not go out unless absolutely necessary. So, I started staying to myself a week before the rest of the country was told to. So far, none of us in my little family is sick. I am grateful. Hopefully, it stays that way. I guess, I’m on week 3 or 4 of this medical house arrest. LOL– it’s not so bad. We have grass to mow, and things to do around the house. I have school starting again in less than a week. The kids keep things busy too. A son and a daughter, both old enough to be 100% independent. One will never be. Who knows how it will go for my youngest. She’s still young–too soon to expect much. She needs to concentrate on her schooling so she can have a better life.
Hope all that happen onto this page are taking good care of themselves and their families. Be safe, love one another — practice kindness. Peg
My 2nd quarter at OSU is nearly over. One last week and then finals. I’ll probably pass by the skin of my teeth. My heart has been giving me issues. I had an “episode” early in the quarter. It took me three days to recover. I’ve dealt with Afib since – I’ve never really caught up with the work all quarter long. If I get decent grades it’s because I have generous instructors! I can register for classes for next quarter starting tomorrow. Will be my 2nd quarter as a Junior. All I know is that it’s a lot of work, and I am loving it. There is a lot of frustration. The memory is not what it used to be. I have to work at it! I also have to be smart and know my limitations. I will not be signing up for 5 classes this time. That is pure insanity.
I have school projects I’ll share soon. Knowledge gained. I can’t get anything but better from this experience!!
Hubby and I are living “separately” right now. He’s in our old RV. He got called for jury duty. He did not get picked. But, he said people were coughing all around him. He did not want to chance making me sick with this new virus. I love him so much. I did not want him to go. But, he is so about doing what he thinks is the right thing. Ya have to respect it even when you do not agree. The only time I’ve slept without him since we’ve met over 16 years ago, has been when he’s been hospitalized. That has been a handful of times now. I miss his warm, comforting touch. It’s only been one night so far! Minimum 14 to go!
We have collected probably two months of everything. We are staying to ourselves. Neither of us needs to battle a serious illness. We have two kids with us who seem to actually be growing up and doing the right things. Being more helpful and thoughtful than ever. I didn’t even have to do dishes today! Yay!! Miracle!! 🙂
There are now 3 known cases of the corona virus in Oregon. All in Northern Oregon, one in more the Eastern side. None close to me and where I live, however…
For those who actually are keeping up with this household or me, as you are a client. I have been told by my doctor to “hole up and not go anywhere unless absolutely necessary.” And yes, that is a direct quote. People have shook their head at us and questioned us. But, the truth is neither of us is well, and the virus would likely kill us both. Both of us have heart conditions and both of have worsening heart conditions.
We went immediately to our local store and it sure looked as if we were the only people thinking ahead and stocking up. For ourselves we have now, about three months worth of breakfast foods, along with lots and lots of beans and rice. We bought about three months worth of cat and dog food. I did not leave out the chickens.
I will still have to go out and get medications. But, other than that we are set. So, no, I won’t be running out to work on anyone’s computer. I am sorry about that. If the computer is still running in any way, and connected to the internet, we can try TeamViewer. I can try to walk you through things via the phone. We can try remote help through other avenues as available, but I’m not physically going anywhere for awhile.
I am thinking about possibly writing every once in awhile just to share what the experience is like. I figure there will be some cabin fever and loneliness involved. I am grateful to live in a time and place where I can keep in touch via the internet with those that I love (and like). Surely that will help a lot. So, check in every once in awhile and see what is going on.
We are planning on planting a garden so we have fresh stuff in our diet. We still have 6 chickens that will provide us eggs, and I think probably we won’t be giving them away anytime soon now. After all they are a source of protein and protein we can trust to boot. Hopefully this will all blow over way sooner than harvest time.
Hopefully we all don’t have this new kind of future to look out for where basically we must stay cooped up to remain healthy. Considering people are now catching this virus a 2nd time means that a vaccine will be much like the flu vaccine. At least that is what I reckon. It might make the whole situation easier if you do get it, but it will be no cure. That is scary for sure. I, myself, am very lax when it comes to even getting a flu shot. For example, I just got mine not even a week ago. March is considered too late for the season. Ooops. I did not know that until the other day.
So, for now the message is: take good care of yourselves. Listen to your Doctors. And please do take this seriously. I’d rather see everyone be cautious and alive then cold stone dead. Love ya all, Peg
Nest on the South Umpqua Copyright 2013, Peggy A Rowe-Snyder
A High Resolution copy of this image is available (for a price). Inquire via email.
To the kids who do not speak to me: I do love you with all my heart. I’ve pretty much always done what I thought was best for everyone. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. But, I really don’t have a hell of a lot to be sorry about when it comes to either of you concerning anything else. We are all human and we all make mistakes. Your lack of concern and ability to cut loved ones or anyone else off at the drop of a hat tells the world more about you then it will ever say about me. People who know me, know that I had people’s best interests at heart. Period.
Mak you let your temper get the best of you and called me a liar when I was not. Jasmine has not been put in the middle of anything that is a lie. I was hurt that you called me a liar over my writing. Because you were wrong, but there is no getting through that thick skull of yours when you think you are right. You cut people off just like that. It will ever make you right, just disconnected from people who love you. I was never angry with you, only hurt, I never wanted to put Jasmine in the middle of anything. I simply thought that because of what you said, you were poisoning the well. You can’t tell a little girl she can talk to her mother like thatand then tell the girl she can’t talk to you like that. The mother comes first to the little girl, not you. Probably, unconsciously you gave that little girl permission too treat her mother like shit. That was wrong. I may have handled it wrong, but I good intentions. Your temper is precisely why I did not come to you directly. Your temper…. has tempered everything I have said and done with you since you’ve been back at 18. If you were not aware then from a mothers point of view that is a good thing. I never wanted you to feel singled out or any less loved. But, if you ask the other kids, they can verify for you that they knew at one point or another and warned about any specific behaviors I was concerned about. Your temper is just very scary for me. All tempers are. Bad tempers like yours are triggering for me and my PTSD. Yours was enough to cause me to tread lightly. That’s just the truth. I don’t tread lightly with the rest of you kids…. just you.
Janea – I still don’t have a clue what the hell is going on. But, I wish you well. I did the best I could despite my feeling that I should have never gotten as involved as I did. I’m sorry about whatever I did. I never purposely tried to hurt a soul. That is just not my way. Take care.
Both of you: I am past the mourning stage finally. It still hurts some. I try not to think about it. Your treatment of me has not helped my health in any way shape or form. That has been take into account when we both make the decisions we must make. You two really did literally break my heart.
My concentration will be helping the younger two.
If I go before Clyde, everything I own belongs to Clyde. The papers say if he goes before me, everything he owns goes to me. When we are both gone, it all belongs to Diane and she has been appraised as to how and what goes to Wesley. Quitclaim forms have been properly filled & filed to accomplish all of this. There is nothing you can fight in court. Well, you can fight it until the cows come home. You will not win.
If the kids go before us, then we will, at the appropriate time, sign the property over to probably the Cow Creek Tribe in the name of a dear friend who was an elder there.
You want to be on your own, so you’ll have to stay that way. I did the best I could. March 2, 2020 PARS
Made up a new graphic for my cover over at Facebook. Took the photograph of the plum flowers in my backyard in 2006. Created the graphic itself yesterday, 28 Feb 2020. Enjoy!
What is the right-wing? Who is the right-wing? Why should we care?
Definition of right wing according to the dictionary: the conservative or reactionary section of a political party or system.
Definition of the right wing by a history professor: the conservative or reactionary section of a political party or system, those who believe in adherence to the law, and reflect that in their own definition.
Now, that difference in definition is critical.
Trump most certainly plays his base which is conservative, and I’d say right wing. I’ve never really heard him call himself right wing.
Having said that…how in the world can they consider themselves law abiding and be reactionary (as in violent as some are, and willing to break the law as he does, blatantly, over and over again).
I have concluded: …that there are few true right-wingers out there. Most of them, as far as I can tell, are a bunch of uneducated red necks who are obsessed with what they think is right!
I got news for them all, it might all be right for them, but the world revolves around them about as much as it revolves around me! Compromise is the name of the game in life! Wake up!
I am 57 yrs old. I have just realized that it really took until now to say, “What about me?” In terms of life, marriage, kids, education, everything. What about me? I’ve given so much, put nearly anyone else first. Now, I get to say, what about me?
Grandfather, Earl Otho Coop. Grandpa’s “Little Sugar Foot” July 1970, One of the people literally saved my life.
Last night Clyde and I were talking about all sorts of stuff. A lot of it was family related -his and mine. He and I just have so many situations in common it’s unreal. There are times when I really wonder if we are not more closely related, and yet, I know we are not. But, it dawned on me…. and I have been on/off close to tears since making this realization. And I wish I was still in therapy because I really think I could use it right now.
My sister tells me she wants me to stop talking about my parents, publicly, because mistakes happen, and she loves everyone, and I am hurting her feelings. I get all that. But, last night it dawned on me… I was the one that got told by my father that I deserved to die. I was the one told to open the glove compartment so that I could see there was a giant knife in there while that statement was being made. Do you think maybe I took that as a threat to my life??? You can bet your damn bottom dollar that I took that as a threat to my life. I was all of 15 or 16 when that happened.
Unfortunately, I’ve been so busy living that I am still processing this crap. That’s the bottom line!
No one’s hurt feelings comes before mine at this point in my life. No ones! I’ve lived through enough.
For some reason, I see even my sister asking me to quit talking about this as a form of abuse. I get that it hurts her feelings, but I don’t get why in the world I should shut up about mine. We are at opposite ends I guess.
I am afraid, that I have probably lost her. I don’t know for sure. I know my sister would NEVER purposely hurt me. And I had realized already that she really doesn’t get that she’s part of the old guard in terms of how she’s reacting to all this. I know that my talking about this has caused her to leave Facebook.
Until very, very recent years, I’ve really never taken the time to make my problems or issues about me so much. I think it’s just time and I think it’s a good thing. I’m sorry if I hurt other people. The fact of the matter is, that my Facebook page is not by default marked public. My opinions, pains, and joys are shared with friends only. I even have my “friends” divided up. The most personal of personal is only shared with people that I consider close friends or family. I don’t hide any thing from family because the younger ones, in my opinion, deserve the truth. And I will tell ya, there is no my truth or dad’s truth when it comes to telling a kid they deserve to die –no matter what the reason was. At the time though, he said it was because I was too much like my mother. That side of the family was rough, tough, and frickin’ mean as hell. That is just the truth. And there are reasons for it all. And NO, I don’t consider threatening a child’s life as a “mistake”.
Someone in their late 30’s knows exactly what they are saying and doing, and saying something like that to your own daughter is just outrageous and uncalled for on ANY level. I did not deserve then, and I don’t deserve the associated issues that I’ve dealt with my entire life. People who try to shut people down, people like me, are only showing their own ignorance when they do that. They are showing how uneducated they are about the matter. They are showing that they are the one’s who are more than willing to sweep the crap under the rug. I do not belong to that club. I have NEVER belonged to that club. My step-father would have never ended up in jail if I belonged to that club. And I would not be as far as I am in life (which by normal standards, I’m not all that far at all) if I were part of that club. I would not be striving for mental health for myself and my kids if I were part of that club. I’ve had BOTH feet in that club without even consciously knowing it for years and years and years…. nothing is ever going to change that now.
In fact, when you consider just about any action I’ve ever taken in my life, it goes back to the fact that I’ve actively striven to 1.) break the cycle 2.)Not sweep anything under the rug.
I’ve given, and I’ve given….played the martyr, been the good wife, good mother, gave up education, health, lifespan, time… done everything expected of someone my gender and MORE. “What about Me?”
I am the most emotionally healthy member of my original primary family. That is just the facts. And yet, the fall out and the costs are terribly great. And yet, it still…really, really feels so bad. There will come a day when a broken heart will most certainly get the better of me, one way or another.
Now share 2 things you have learned about women in Hollywood, TV, media on the discussion board. How does this information connect with what you have read in the textbook? How does intersectionality affect these studies? How does race, class, dis/ability, sexuality, sexual identity, nation of origin, parenting and mothering status, and more, impact the representation we see in our film and TV?
1. New study shows women will turn off a film or TV show if too stereotyped or lacking female characters.
I did not know this. But, it makes total sense. As a woman, let me just say that I don’t watch a whole lot of TV. When I do watch it has a tendency to be fact based, meaning, I keep up on current events, the news, and I like documentaries. I will absolutely seek out shows about women, because I like the encouragement I get from them. I get the “if she can do it, so can I” kind of message from them.
There is really only one story show that I really currently watch on the TV. Law & Order; Special Unit. I like the character of Olivia Benson. I like what the show looks at. It hits home in a big, big way. I am the mother of a survivor, and I am a survivor. But, I am well aware of the fact that Oliva is really good looking compared to 99% of us, and that real cops have an even harder time in real life than on TV. You know, in terms of looks alone, every woman on that show is pretty dog gone good looking. There isn’t a double chin in the group! In terms of realistic mentor type characters for young women coming up the question would be, “really?”
You know it doesn’t matter if it’s a western, a crime show, or sci fi, whatever, if it’s fiction (and even when not) the women characters are usually over board beautiful, 1000% blonde to some degree, a perpetual victim (one wonders how much of all that violence they could actually handle if these stories lines were anything close to real life!), and if they are not a victim or a copy or a hero, and they actually get to shoot a gun… they usually can’t hit a target! I happen to be one of those, and I know that with practice, I can hit a target.
I have a tendency to agree with our former President. The “old white men” not only need to step aside when it comes to politics, they need to step aside when it comes to anything important in life. They’ve run the show for far too long!
As a mom, I have to say, that I tried as much as possible to control what my kids saw on TV. When you are a single mom and have to work that’s a really hard thing to do. So, you try to stay on top of things and temper what the kids see. You do not want your girls growing up thinking that what they see on TV is even close to reality. Nor do you want you boys thinking it either.
In some ways I know I succeeded, and here is a small taste of intersectionality. My girls at least don’t seem to have the issues that I grew up with. I came up in the age of Barbie & Ken. I owned three of those girls and we played dress up a lot! My mother made me a lot of clothes for them. Between Barbie’s and all those perfect girls on tv, and a mother who let us know that she was the best in every category of life, my self-esteem had no chance. Even though I had a very good figure as a young woman, I have never worn a bikini, nor a halter top, and I didn’t wear shorts until I moved to an area where the heat was so bad that environment required cooler dress. Every curve I owned was in my mind, fat packed and not normal, and therefore, needed to be hidden from sight so that the sight would not turn some poor person’s stomach! Who wants their kids to grow up like that?!
One other thought that just crossed my mind. It might be somewhat “old school”. When I was a kid, we played with paper dolls. Once in a blue moon we got a little book with the dolls premade where we just punched them and their clothes out and used the little tabs to hang the clothes on those dolls. But, in my world most of our “dolls” were by and far, mostly ladies cut out of a Sears or Montgomery Wards catalog. Grandma made us paste from flour and water and we glued their clothes on from other pages in the same or similar catalogs. The ladies were not Barbie. But they were still very perfect in terms of body image at least. Not a disabled person in the lot. No imperfection to be found. No 3x size models. Why in the world were they even selling girdles?? Those ladies didn’t need them! I hope that today’s little girls are getting a much more realistic view of what the world is made of in terms of women. But, not just in terms of body image. Real strength and courage are not going to be found at Tiffaney’s, and even those of us who have found a voice, well, we still sometimes succumb to chocolate, and a lot of us over spill the tops of those jeans! And despite the fact that it is human to trip over ourselves, beauty is not just skin deep, it is in the eyes of beholder if even within own eyes, in 99.9% of us, the beauty is really what is on the inside.
The Powerpuff Babies…
2. That sometimes the idea that art reflects reality is just a myth. On some level, I think we really know this. In this particular case, it is probably something that was just more or less brought home again. I hate to throw a wet blanket on the party!
On the homepage of the Women and Hollywood page, although I realize they are fighting for the rights of women in Hollywood to be creators and tellers of stories as they really happened instead of some old man’s fantasy life, take a look at those pictures. On the whole page, there are a total of two over weight gals. None of them have any outwardly showing scars or dimples. Even the ones with unperfect hair looks perfect on them! I’m sorry, but Hollywood even in this setting, is still Hollywood, and unfortunately, looks still must matter!
Even on the site that is obviously a part of Ms. Geena Davis’s heart there is nothing imperfect about the homepage. I’d accept a missing period (no pun intended) or even a beleaguered comma! Those picture perfect people in the photos, including Ms. Davis herself, I hope do not represent the majority of Hollywood, either in front of or behind the camera!
I know, I know, in business looks matter. But, if you want to sell your product shouldn’t you make some part of it at least identifiable to the people you are trying to sell it too?
At the Center for the Study of Women in Television and Film I admired the very SMALL photos across the top of the homepage. They looked to be real photos of real women working behind the camera on set, obviously doing real jobs. I thought to myself, “At last, a touch of reality!”
I clicked on a random link, it said, “t’s Time for Action, Not Promises, to Get More Women in Filmmaking” I did not see that the link would take me straight to the Variety (magazine) website. I know, I know we can not control all of the outside influences that we um, choose to connect to on the internet. Nor in real life. I mean, I know someone who murdered another person, and knowing this person was through no choice of mine! Not proud…. but, on the other hand, I do not normally go around advertising the fact either. In simpler terms, I don’t link to the guy in anyway, shape or form!
I scroll down the page and I see J. Lo, who just happened to have a butt job at age 15! A link to Weinstein who may have committed more rapes than anyone can imagine–let alone set down on film! Nearly every photo of every person on the page is is.. well, picture perfect! Toward the bottom of the page it was kind of them to throw in a smattering of real life. There is an advertisement for something to do with nail fungus (of the toe variety obviously) and there is a really wrinkly hand, minus nail polish, advertising something to do with the snapping back “of sagging skin.” Could this be more ridiculous? If I had been the editors of the original website, I think I’d asked for permission to copy the text of the article and housed it on my own site where I could control just what messages were aligned with those words!
Want to throw in some real life. What about those Wachowski sisters! Or are they the story of a couple of old white rich guys who had the power to live their fantasy? Alright, lets see someone in a wheel chair who has overcome their disability to become one of the arts most distinguished set or costume artists of all times. What about these guys and gals? Why are they not included? Do you have to be Bruce Jenner to get attention? (ah, sorry, Caitlin, it works with the piece)
Where is the intersectionality here? It is politically correct to throw in people of color, in all shades. But, we are still missing the boat when it comes to disability. How realistic is that? In Oregon where I live nearly, if not all of 25% of the population is disabled in one form or another. One in four! You can not capture depression on film (or can you?) but you can sure talk about it on film! What we see in film probably isn’t even one in one hundred! Let alone this one webpage! The reality is, it all plays a part in what we see, how we grow up, how our minds work, and how we get along in our world!
I am a woman and of course I have saggy skin (and saggy other things too!) and I suppose at some point nail fungus can be a reality of life, but is there anything here that really points to the reality of life when it comes to women and film or just women and life?
Wait, I’m choking on my Doritos! These websites are still missing the point even as they try so hard to make it!!!! I was given hope. But, even it was (misses) dashed.
Note: One thing I learned. I had NO idea that websites or even organizations like these existed. How exciting. I see STEM mentioned over and over again on Ms. Davis’s site. I, myself would have never thought to include anything to do with gendered studies in with STEM stuff. Especially in terms of Hollywood! (But, then my work with STEM is basically about Latin & Greek Word Roots workbooks!) It is exciting to see websites, and better yet, personalities that we know taking on the issues of gender in film and/or the arts. It is encouraging to me as a mother and encouraging to me as a woman. I have to admit that I have admired Geena Davis for years, since seeing Thelma and Louise. The film made me cry! This stuff is just so exciting!!
Reading about a woman’s movement within the Black Baptist Church between 1880ish and 1920ish. They formed a policy of “politics of respectability.” Which gave a framework for all African American’s to keep in mind when they went about their days. It gave them a way to handle every day situations. There were (& can change that to ‘are’) so many prejudices, stereotypes, racism, elitism that was in place, all to keep this people down. Yet they choose to keep their heads up and choose dignity. I imagine the policy was a saving grace to many who survived Jim Crow days. I knew it was bad. But, I never knew it was that bad. You know laws were such that a WHITE man could rape a little black girl and get away with it once she hit puberty. Insane!!!!! The African American’s that I grew up with, and I remember two families, one that I was particularly close with for awhile, were very dignified people. I grew up with the kids, went to school with them, rode the bus with them. Their sense of humor was better than most peoples, which I am sure must have been one of their greatest survival tools. But, looking back I can see that policy in play. And you know… Bless them all!!! It is very, very difficult to be put down, controlled, abused, beaten and keep your head up and your anger down. I know this from experience. I can not say that I succeeded all the time. I would be a liar if I made that claim. The sickening part is that today–I know of people who would still talk about African American’s as if they were ‘still’ and ‘always’ nothing but ‘bimbos’ and ‘coons’. It is 2020 people…. it is time to let it your hate, and supremist attitudes go! Inside all of us, regardless of the color of our skin, we all bleed red. Our “white heart” breaks just as theirs does and for all the same reasons. We really are all one big family. How did we or do we ever justify treating our brothers and sisters like this? It all makes me sad.
Growing up in the 70’s, I remember going into those Sambo’s restaurants as a kid with my grandparents. The place was very much like a Denny’s. Burgers, pancakes, soda, getting to sit in a booth!
The treatment was always good, as was the food, and the ambience. I liked it when we got to go to Sambos. But, I was a little girl who was happy to be with her grandparents, and happy to get to go out and eat with them, who had NO clue about the racial connotations of the name, “Sambo’s” meant. I remember my grandparents talking about it once. I remember them looking at the decorated paper table mat. I remember them pointing out a truck on the freeway, today 880 near Oakland, California. With the big restaurant logo and the little boy on the trailer. I never quite understood what they were saying. Today I don’t even remember the words. But, the memory in a far off way, seems to remember an acknowledgement of wrongness at some point. Sad though, I do believe my grandmother was somewhat (huh, is there somewhat? like maybe pregnant?) racist. If I knew then what I know now, I would have asked to boycott the business. I don’t even remember seeing African American’s in those restaurants. Not working nor enjoying a meal. Would boycotting them put some people who need their jobs more than anything else in the world out of work?? I do not know. I only know that this is proof positive that even when I was growing up in the 1970s that racism was still alive and well in America, just the same as it is today.
Higginbotham, Evelyn Brooks. Righteous Discontent: The Women’s Movement in the Black Baptist Church, 1880-1920. Harvard University Press, 1994
A photo from along the South Umpqua River up river from Tiller and very near South Umpqua Falls. Taken while we were on our winter retreat in ’17! Photo Copyright 2017, Peggy A Rowe-Snyder
It’s been a journey that as of yet, is still incomplete…
From a group where I posted on Facebook:
Thought I should stop lurking and post an intro since I’ve started to be brave enough to post (so far only twice). My name is Peg. I live in Southern Oregon not far from the Seven Feathers Casino. I am 57 years old, and have four children, and they are all, thankfully, living on their own.
It’s a long story, but I am back in school, over at OSU (ecampus) working toward a Bachelors in History and a minor in Women’s Studies. The end game, I hope is to be a historian and a writer. But, the history is not so simple as American History or even one regions history. The history I am more interested in is family dynamic and culture and how it’s evolved (or devolved in some cases) over the eons. And the ultimate goal: To use my voice and my education to help break the cycle of Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault. (I won’t get on that soap box, I won’t get on that soap box…..) Taking a breath!! LOL
I am not legally married to my husband anymore, but not for the most common reasons. We each have health issues, and he is medically retired. When he got his disability, I lost mine. They said he could support me. Well, I lost medical insurance at that time, and one of my meds (not covered by insurance anyhow) costs $540 per month. There is no generic in America. With the way the cards landed I was better off divorcing him in order to keep insurance going. So, we live together, we love each other, we support each other, etc. etc. etc. Someday once I am on normal social security we hope to marry. (only a few years to go!)
Having said all that, I learned of polyamory around the year 2000. I started to research it and started making contact with people in the lifestyle. At that time I was single. I even bought the book “The Ethical Slut.” lol.(which a daughter borrowed and never returned) Then I met my husband (the one who isn’t a husband. LOL) and he’d never heard of it, and I introduced him to the idea. At the time, I told him that was the way I intended to live. It just makes sense.
Well, our relationship grew and he wasn’t sure he could handle that so, I gave in. We got married, and I found out that I wasn’t all that secure either! LOL. Long story short is that we’ve been together for 16 or 17 years now. We are still pretty well attached. I’ve never known a relationship so strong and healthy as the one we have (not that it’s perfect). Now, after all these years he brings up polyamory. This was actually nearly a year ago. He is not nearly as sophisticated on computer as I am. He’s also very dyslexic and can’t spell for s*** so, here I am. We want to “try out” the lifestyle. That sounds sooooo cliché! We think we are ready to dip our big toes into it. He has no clue how to go about it, and I have about 1/2 a clue more than him. Neither of us are bar flies, so meeting people that way is really not an option. I thought if nothing else, hanging out here some would at least put us in a space where we can talk to people who are ‘like minded’. And we can see if we can learn and get some tips. I guess I should stress, before I close too, neither of us is unhappy. This is not why we are here.
My theory has been forever and ever, after I read a piece about parenthood in Readers Digest some 25 or so years ago, that love is nothing that can be divided. The example is that when you add a child to the family, you simply multiply the love you have, you add more to the mix not less. And this is how I see polyamory. There is no Earthly reason we should not all be able to handle more than one love. What stops us in our tracks is norms that were created by people from that past who were just as stuck in their ways and ideals as the conservatives (the far right, and other extremists) are today.
It is time, and do think it has started, that we shed that old skin and live up to our potentials. I am talking about all of human kind there in that statement. I have a tendency to think “BIG”. LOL. So, his name is Clyde. He adopted my kids, and is a wonderful guy. He’s a 8 year veteran of the US Army and a retired ATM 1st line tech. I can post pics, but you have to keep in mind that we are both pushing 60 here. LOL. We hope to meet people around our same age (give or take a few, years….decades…ok, ok, I digress). We can talk specifics if it actually comes up. We both are open to friendships, or whatever develops. And we’ll just see how it goes. Feel free to pm me, but don’t expect nudes or play any silly games. I’m not into that sort of thing, and won’t waste my time. Love, love, love sex… but like it in person and don’t do the phone sex/Cam anything/chat sex or whatever its called these days… Thanks for reading and have a very great day!!
You may find contact information on the contact page.
Just a piece of homework that gives insight into who and what I am. For those who are interested.
OSU – WSGS 223 /Week 4
Textbook: “Engendered Voices, Feminist Visions” By Susan Shaw and Janet Lee Readings: Chapter 4 Introduction and Readings 26, 28, 29.
Page 158
I don’t live anywhere near OSU. There is no way I can take a tour of the campus. I am wondering what I can look at instead. I come from a family of short women. I’m the tallest in a few generations, today standing at 5’3. I have shrunk, I used to be 5’4”. So, I will look at the home(s) I have seen and see if there are ways to accommodate short people, as well as people with handicaps.
My assumptions of course, are that all buildings in the world, especially those in the United States are designed with much thought in mind. That all sorts of situations are taken into account. Doorways should allow for wheelchairs and walkers, and also the possible large furniture that might come and go. Stairs should be wide enough to accommodate at least a “normal” sized person (whatever that is). A door stoop should not only have a guard rail to help hold you upright, but the whole area should be big enough to accommodate those extra-large people. These are all things that I’ve noticed either at my house or at someone else’s house.
It has come to my attention how much difference one little inch can make to some people. My mother, in her prime was 5’2”. She’s probably now 5’1”. I have two daughters who proudly let people know they are “five foot nothing”. Thank goodness for one daughter, shortness is her main physical problem.
I learned that my mother can no longer reach her overhead kitchen cabinets comfortably. My sister wants her to move to a place built specifically for older folks—shorter older folks so she can reach what she wants.
My daughters are constantly complaining about having to ask for help or jump for something on a shelf. I constantly hear how being short is just the worst thing in the world. The shelves at the library are too tall even with a stool sometimes. The top of the grocery store shelves are way too high for short people.
I hate to say it, but my guess is that mostly men came up with these designs over the years. Most of them I suppose tower over me. Someone needs to sit them down and ask them to please keep short people in mind when they draw up their blueprints!
I was looking at a photo of a tiny home yesterday. Against one wall was a flight of stairs. The first thing I noted was the lack of banister. I am a registered and well known “bull in the china shop type” –clutz is my middle name. Not only were those stairs not wide enough there was nothing to hang on to. Being taller won’t cure that problem. But, with an enlarging population making the stairsteps smaller seems just silly to me.
My shortness isn’t even really all that short, but I can’t stand on a small ladder and reach our fire alarm to change the battery. My house has storage areas I’ve never been able to reach on my best days. For such a small house, 940 square feet, & 2-bedroom one bath, this house has the widest hallway I have ever seen in my life. I’m not the biggest person in the world nor am I the smallest. But if there is one thing, I do like about this house it is the wide hallway where I can cross paths with a 5’9” man and not worry about running into him or the wall. If the house were not designed so poorly in terms of making things easy for people, I’d wonder if the hallway was made that way for people in a wheelchair. But truth is, only if they are housebound. There is no comfortable way to get anyone who either can not walk or even is having trouble walking out of the house easily and safely. Unless you want to put them on a gurney that waits outside the door, and let others do the walking for you (been there, done that, got to ride in an ambulance too).
Page 169 – Expanding on Body Image.
This one is going to be so tough. I am 5’3”—with light brown hair and working on going grey, blue eyes….and white, white, skin. Well, except the tan parts. Which to some degree seem to be permanently tanned? Mostly my arms. My idea of a perfect body must be me, 37 years ago. When, I was 20. I had quite the figure back then. Of course, I did not know it. I thought I was ugly. I’ve said many times, I wish I knew then what I know now, life would have been way, way more about taking chances, and not settling for anything less than the best (by my definition of course!).
I am supposing that for at least American men, my ideal body image would probably fit their idea of the ideal as well. Not so sure what women would like. Which seems odd considering I am one of those animals. To build on that silhouette and make it more expansive and diverse would probably to build either a body by collage, or to put at least 1,000 people of all sizes and colors in one room and then call it “a body”. There is that old saying, “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.” My made-up body would include male and female, black, brown, white, yellow, red and every shade in between of people. I’d like to add here, there would be no race in my little dream world. We all bleed red…we are all one big family. The perfect body would be short and tall, large and small, size 16 shoe all the way down to size 2! There is beauty in every single phase of life: the beginning, the end, the middle and every tenth of second in between. So, I would include the young, the old, and all the middles. Sky blue, ocean blue, pale blue, green eyes, brown eyes, grey, and hazel – red eyes just in case someone’s are bloodshot!
Reading about the Transgendered and the medical and mental health issues they’ve had to jump through during all those years (Page 217). Had I known it was a thing when I was a kid, I’d for sure —surely shunned being a girl! I hated it. I hated me. I can give you a laundry list of why today. But, back then as 7, 8, 9, or 10 years of age….all I knew was that I did not want to be me. Had I known I had a choice I would probably be known today as transgendered. As it stands, I think now, I met my first transgendered persons as a young adult, working in a grocery store in Cincinnati, Ohio. Two men obviously dressed as and acting as women with makeup and EVERYTHING. They were super sweet people, but to my ignorant eyes, super-duper weird too. What would be wrong with teaching kids that it takes all kinds to make the world go around, and that it’s ok to love them all.
There is something else that I want to include. That most people probably would never think about. Although it’s probably more in the conscious of people now than ever. I add this because of very personal experience. About 5 years ago a song hit the airwaves, “Scars to Your Beautiful” by Alessia Cara (Links to an external site.). I listened to that song over and over again when I discovered it about three years ago. I could not believe my ears. The young lady could have been singing about me.
There are a lot of people out there who go through a lot of different situations in life. Some people are scared on the inside—a broken heart, an angry spirit, a brew of sadist tendency made by a life of abused childhood. Yet, some of those people can be quite beautiful in ways we may need to look for so that we can include them in our idea of expansion of body image. Because what goes on in the mind surely affects the outward looks that we see in our gaze… large, small, short or tall.
Then there are those who are imperfect, and who hide away. Or are pushed aside in the name of keeping a child’s mind free of the ugliness of life. Or pushed aside because it’s just too damn ugly. Scars that can be seen from the outside. Someone who has a big scar across their neck or face from a car wreck. Another who lost a leg due to being with his/her squad while their vehicle met up with a land mine. Or loss of two legs due to disease. The loss of an arm due to an industrial accident. How’s about those people who breathe through the hole in their neck because of smoking cigarettes… is there not still beauty in those ravished bodies of theirs? I think there is.
And last but not least, back to Alessia Cara. There are people who cut themselves with knives, and other sharp objects. I’ve seen scars on wrists, legs, and arms. There are so many, MANY ways to “self harm”. Some people, including myself, are scars literally from head to toe. These people need to know that they are not ugly, and that they do not need to hide away. They need to be seen as beautiful as any other person in this world. To be conscious of that and to welcome them into your world would be one of the biggest steps to acceptance that either person involved could ever take. It could help them both be a better person.
Just a Note: About the “selfie.” (Reading 26, Page 190) I have been on Facebook probably for 12 years or more. I have NEVER posted a selfie. I didn’t like them. (I don’t like my photo taken either) I thought they were self-promotion and basically saying, “Look at Me” for selfish reasons. What is funny is though I saw them that way, I never saw the people who posted them that way. I was inspired today, by learning that for some people that selfies and blogs (have had one for years) are simply ways for people to feel included, or to help them make connections. It was a comfort to read that in pretty straight forward language a selfie could be seen as a form of “celebration of life.” I’ve tried to make it a ‘thing’ in my life to remember to celebrate life. Our time is limited and God or not, I see it as a miracle of one form or another. So, I really believe in the celebration. So, while I was feeling inspired, I took my first selfie. I posted it to Facebook, and let everyone know that I could do it because 1. I was having a good hair day and 2. Despite my age, I was having a good face day too!! ?
A plain old number line from a math class. It represents how far the left and right in this country has moved away from the center. This line…as represented on the ends by the arrowheads goes on forever. This is how far the left and right are. Or at least that is what it feels like to me. Sad really. America has lost it’s collective mind!
You know, I thought that I had swung way over to the left. This is a brand new thought. Haven’t really thought about it much yet. But, maybe it wasn’t me who swung to the left so much as me seeing the right loose their grip on who they really are? To be accepting of less than honest…to be accepting of a cult leader in the white house? That’s not me… I’m not the one making those choices. I’m still looking for transparency, honesty, empathy, compassion, a good work ethic, for the people, not wasting our money on the golf game kind of person. He plays you people like a fine tuned violin. You keep falling for it. Maybe I am just what I have always been, and you are just what you have always been. Maybe I am just more of what I’ve been and you are more of what you’ve always been, and so our differences can be seen as Grand Canyon sized. Either way, people of this nation need to talk and not blame, find some common ground, work at not being angry, quit blaming the other guy and take responsibility.
As for the links below. I don’t know when WordPress built those in, but until I figure out how to turn them off, click Page 2 (see below) to read the essay. Clicking on page 1 is a total waste of time and energy. (or click here: https://pegrowe.com/?p=3678&page=2)
Note: I posted an opinion yesterday on Facebook. That stirred up more opinion than I had reckoned for. I also showed my ignorance in terms of gun law in this country and was told about it. So, this is my answer to all that. Like it or not, this is me.
My old best friend. Yup this one in particular, was MINE. I got quite good at shooting. Had I been under a lethal threat I could have dispatched and probably still could any threat.
I’ve noticed lately that there are some people beginning to use the scare tactics about socialism becoming part of the system of the United State. The point, I think, in the authors minds is that if you vote Democrat or Progressively that you are allowing Socialism into this country. The targets of the campaign are young people who basically have no experience with socialism, or at least that is the claim.
Socialism has many forms, here is one definition: “Socialism is a range of economic and social systems characterized by social ownership of the means of production and workers’ self-management as well as the political theories and movements associated with them. Social ownership can be public, collective or cooperative ownership, or citizen ownership of equity.”(Wikipedia).
The truth is, when executed properly and when abused, socialism can be a really good thing. It is when people who are greedy for money and power that problems arise.
One of the points, I’d like to make to the older people who are so against socialism. It is not so much about income redistribution. In the true sense of the words, it is about a more equal system, removing caste, and class. It is about giving the underdogs a hand up.
One of the reasons older people, especially are so against socialism is that they are products with a memory of a memory — somewhere along the line Russia got mixed into the definition of Socialism. Russia (or probably more properly, the U.S. S. R) was never run under the net of socialism that I know of. As far as I a know it was run under the auspices of Communism. We are talking apples and oranges here.
In modern times, specifically 1930, Stalinism came into being. Wikipedia says about Stalinism: “the ideology and policies adopted by Stalin, based on centralization, totalitarianism, and the pursuit of communism.” Three leaders later, the Premiere tried to move some powers of the government to the smaller Republics under the umbrella of the USSR. Coming forward into present times, unfortunately, scholars say that Russia now is in the early stages of Fascism.
Here is the definition of Fascism: “Fascism is a form of far-right, authoritarian ultranationalist characterized by dictatorial power, forcible suppression of opposition, and strong regimentation of society and of the economy which came to prominence in early 20th-century Europe.” Wikipedia
I believe some people have confused the terms completely. Fascism is exactly where our country is heading today. It has been mislabeled as Socialism.
The countries that exist today that considers themselves socialist their official “party” in power are Communist. It is Communism that causes their socialist systems to fail. Todays idea of Communism as it is run by their leads is corrupt and is not being run like the true idea of communism: “The belief in a society without different social classes in which the methods of production are owned and controlled by all its members and everyone works as much as they can and receives what they need.” source: (Cambridge Dictionary)
People really need to educate themselves about what they are arguing about. Truth of the matter isn’t that even living under a Monarchy is not necessarily such a bad thing as our Founding Fathers thought. It all depends on how corrupt the system is, and whether the Monarch becomes a dictator or not. The problem in the time of the Founding Fathers was colonialism not the monarchy in and of itself. Having said that, the King at the time, ran the colonies as if were a dictator rather than as a caring head of state.
The examples below show that the happies countries in the world live under a combination of Representative Democracy and a Monarchy.
The UN says that the happiest people in the world live here:
Finland
Denmark
Norway
Iceland
The Netherlands
Switzerland
Sweden
New Zealand
Finland lives under a “framework of a parliamentary representative democracy.”
Denmark lives under a “framework of a parliamentary representative democracy, a constitutional monarchy and a decentralized unitary state” (A Nation State)
Norway lives with a “framework of a parliamentary representative democratic constitutional monarchy.”
Icelands’ government is a constitutional republic with a multi-party system.
Switzerland: “…is the closest state in the world to have a direct democracy where citizens may challenge any law voted by the federal assembly.”
New Zealand: constitutional monarchy with a parliamentary system of government”
The Netherlands has been a constitutional monarchy with a framework of parliamentary government.
Socialism under the true sense of the definition exists all over the world, including in the United States. There is absolutely nothing wrong with socialism.
“Socialism is an economic and political system. It is an economic theory of social organization. It believes that the means of making, moving, and trading wealth should be owned or controlled by the workers. This means the money made belongs to the people who make the things, instead of a group of private owners.”
Please note that people in America who are running as Socialists are not claiming to be wanting to create a Socialist State. There is a HUGE difference between a Socialist System and the social programs (or social safety nets) that are government run within a Democratic Republic which is what we officially live under here in the United States.
Although there is NOTHING wrong with a socialist government if run in the truest sense of the definition, what our elders are afraid of is actually corrupted forms of communism and flat out Fascist governments.
The social programs that they are using to justify the war on a potential Socialist State have nothing to do with taking care of people who live under our individual countries Constitution and are disabled, live in poverty, or whatever their circumstances are. Socialism is not social programs.
Most people who use Social Programs here in America do NOT take advantage of our social programs. Instead they usually use the programs as a kind of hand up and out of their circumstances. Those who are involved with the programs for long term or even a lifetime have a tendency to be disabled in one form or another. The disability might be unseen, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, and we as a people need to be less judgmental about others.
Having said all this… there is nothing in this world that is FREE. Not even a FREE lunch. People really lament those other countries in the world where universal health, housing, and other social programs keep their populations guarded from extreme poverty (think about that list of happiest people). Their income taxes are usually over the 50% mark.
At least they have transparency in how their programs are truly paid for. Here in America we are hacked to death with taxes on products, taxes on property, taxes on income, taxes on taxes. Some of it goes to line a few Politian’s pockets no doubt. But, truth of the matter is that huge amounts of those taxes go to programs that are meant for the good of all our citizens: Military, health coverage (Medicare, Medicaid), roads and other mundane things that we all have the advantage of having: Sewer systems, water systems, etc.
When an employer is told they must pay for health insurance for their employees then we pay the price after they jack up the cost of their service, or product. Then we pay sales tax on top of that to help pay for the Medicaid programs (for example).
All this anger about Socialism in this country is moot. It’s a red herring. There is nothing in this country to fear about Socialism. The problem is social programs and realizing the truth about how it is paid for, and how they are needed, and what we are going to do about it. Emotionalism really doesn’t belong in the argument. Except that, I beg you all to put yourself in the place of a person born with some sort of “disability” that keeps them from what is know as a “participation of parity”. This means that they can participate in life to the best of their ability. It might mean they need supported in some way. There is nothing wrong with this and we should be helping people like this.
As of 2018, the population of the US is 327.2 million people. According to Dreamscape Foundation, “In the United States alone, 48.9 million people have at least one form of disability. From physical impairments to mental ones, these challenges pose limitations on their lives and the world’s accessibility.”
Political systems are not America’s problem, except to say that Fascism is becoming a bigger problem every day.
And the truth of the matter is that disabled people are in the minority and helping them is not an unconquerable problem.
Part of the problem is political systems that are defined improperly and the fact that people are insinuating them into our system which helps to create anger and divisionism. Emotions run so high over these mistaken definitions that people are attacking others. There are hard feelings being created over ideas that people are terribly mistaken about.
People are arguing for social programs not knowing that history proves that social programs have existed since at least before the year 1500!! Many of their own ancestors could not have survived without the programs regardless of who or what ran the programs, and how they were run.
In a very short and terse: American’s are very ignorant and judgmental. I personally would throw in a big dose of arrogance in on that too. I know a lot of people who very arrogantly defend their ignorant arguments. I could take pity on them except that a lot of them are actually quite educated. Which really elicits fear and anger in me, because it shows how dug in they are with their misconceptions.
Aren’t the mix of multiple people who, in history, made this country what it is…. oh, so human. Education may not be what it is today if it were not for Catherine E Beecher, sister to Harriet Beecher Stow. And yet, she thought that a woman’s place was in the home. I find it amazing she could actually justify both attitudes. How did she consolidate the ideas in her mind where she basically agreed to the oppression of women while fighting for their right to be educated just like the boys. It is an interesting story. I identify very strongly with Angelina Grimke. That may not be a good thing. I’ll have to think about it. She really is the one who first uttered the ideas of women’s rights outload. But first she was an abolitionist. In dealing with that issue did she realize that women had rights too. Bless her heart!!! She traveled all over talking to women and men (she was told to quit talking t men and refused) about abolition. She married an abolitionist and a man who would support her theory of women’s rights (after he realized he loved her). Long story short, she wore herself out traveling around and speaking. I think probably today they would say she was ‘burned out’. She retreated to home with her family and never took the stage in public life again. Thank God she watched how her family handled their slaves and realized it was all wrong. She left home at 22 and never really looked back, because she felt so strongly about abolishing slavery and truly believed in women’s rights.
I identify with her only because I basically realized what happened to my child. I educated myself about it and how it affects the family. I tried very hard to right the wrongs–though the fight due to ignorance within the family was horrible. In the fall out, I basically lost everyone, save a couple people. The legal fight, the mental fight, the custody fight that came a little later–2 of them. I had to fight my mother for custody of my daughter (A nasty way to get what you want, when the mother/daughter are obviously attached and mother would give her life very willingly to protect said child), and then my ex for custody of both (which lasted for years, like until they were both of age almost), yet in the end he took the daughter and hid her for six years, and abandoned his son. I too, burned out. But, like Grimke, in my life, I have continued to feel that things need to change, and I continue to voice what is wrong, what needs to change, and sometimes I offer some ways of fixing things. My pet peeves: Domestic Violence and childhood sexual assault. I’ve been asked to quit talking about it, just like people asked Grimke to stop talking about freeing slaves and women’s rights. Like Grimke, and Douglass, and Garrison, and so many others from that era. I will shut my mouth when I die. And not before. The injustice of what happens to women, children, and their whole families when they are assaulted is total. The wreckage lies all about them like so many over flowing trash cans you see on a curb. You can work to over come, but you can never forget. The pain of it never really goes away, you only learn to deal with better over the years. But, the dull ache coming from knowing that the child did not grow up to be what she could have been because of the anger that seethes within is haunting. I will never shut up. Maybe when hell freezes over. Someone, lots of someone’s, have to fight the fight.
Many of us have the impression that Trump is nothing more than a puppet at the disposal of many influential people who are up to absolutely NO GOOD
A cousin sent this little funny (?) political cartoon to me tonight. I have to admit that I really laughed at it.
But then a thought struck me. This one is actually dated already. Steve Bannon hasn’t been the lead puppeteer for a couple of years now.
I could actually do it. It was part of my training at junior college. I will leave this to someone who is younger and has more time on their hands than I do. Put Mike Pompeo’s face over Bannon’s and put a turban on both their heads. Maybe throw BinLaden in there for good measure.
We can play the same infantile games that they can!
1968, Women were throwing symbols of oppression in a barrel to be burned. Items included lipstick, shoes, and other items.
While Clyde went from one dr. appointment to another today, I read chapter 2 of my textbook from my class which is technically called, “Womens Gendered Sexuality Studies.” What I learned today has completely torn the foundations of what I thought I knew about my world completely apart. I remember as a young teenager, I said something, I don’t remember what now, my dad’s reaction at the time was to invite me to burn my bra along with those other women out there. The implication, given by tone of voice, and sarcasm rather than respect, or even a little encouragement that Peggy was indeed using her noodle, and trying to think things through and see that life was fair for girls. My dad embarrassed me is what he did. I wasn’t old enough yet to appreciate what burning a bra meant. I wasn’t really old enough to understand anything except that my father did not approve of my thoughts. And yet, it seems, since that was his reaction, I may have been on to something. My guess is that I was a feminist in the making, and what dad succeeded in doing was slowing that process down, if not shutting it down completely for years. I spent a lot of years looking down my nose on feminism. I have learned today, and at my age now, it comes as no big surprise that feminism today at least is not just about women and women’s rights. If it is stigmatized it is an issue that feminism will take up. If it is discriminated against, feminism will fight the fight. IF it does not allow for the “participation of parity” then women are going to point that out and seek justice. Feminism is humanism as seen through a womans’ eyes. Feminism is the fight for social justice in every form!
I won’t argue about it, I don’t know enough about it. But, I read tonight just why the the capitalist system is not working. It does not allow for 100% participation in society for so many people — it normalizes discrimination, and the stigmatization of conditions such as disability. It encourages so many wrongs and supports so few rights. It is killing true democracy and turning somethings that were right with the world hundreds of years ago upside down and on its head. It turns out that all those young people might be right, socialism when applied correctly may be far more supportive and just than capitalism has ever been. If you don’t believe me read your history books and be sure to start reading before 1500!
I’m thinking I’m going to loose a few more friends. And a few more friends will shake their heads and pity me for my poor misbegotten ideas. Just remember friends you never thought I was stupid before, why start now? We’ve been fed a line of crap for generations now about what is right, wrong, fair, and just. It’s time to rethink things and formulate a new game plan.
Bra burning is dead my friends. In fact, It never really existed. It is a myth. (https://www.bbc.com/news/world-45303069). And while Gloria Steinem is very much alive — the women’s movement is so much bigger, smarter, and caring than many of us had ever imagined.
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One last thought for today. What does the right wing men and capitalism have in common? It is the 1%. To support capitalism is to tear down justice for all the common work-a-day people. The idea is to put the profits in their pockets. Their message in the bottle is, “to hell with you….and you… and you….” They have mastered capitalism and use it to manipulate us all into believing that we are independent and that working for wages is what keeps us that way. There is no such thing as true independence in this world. We are all interdependent on each other. Someone has to build our roads, so we can drive back and forth to the grocery store, Without farmers we’d all need a farm and we’d be eking out our living simply feeding ourselves. Think about the millions of miles of pipeline underneath our cities and rural areas transporting water and sewage to and fro. Someone lays that pipe, fixes the pipe, unclogs the pipe, etc. There is no part of our life that is 100% independent of any other human being.
Capitalism has taught you to believe you are 100% independent. It has created a myth, a gigantic monster myth. It allows us all to to look down on those who can not work (as in the disabled), including women who may still choose to stay home caring for and rearing children. There is no value in motherhood, because working with children is not work.
And this, is the tip of the iceberg of what is wrong about capitalism.
Forwarded from a cousin in Denmark. It seems he represents the majority of thinkers over there.
Could it be, that the people who support Trump look at his life and with a bit of envy just want to have all that money too?
That if they realize it, that is partly why they vote the way they do?
Compare that, if you will, to the impoverished white men who repeatedly voted in the rich white man in the historical south (antebellum, civil war, reconstruction). Why else were those men stuck in poverty voting them in?
We must take into account variables: poverty, illiteracy, bribes (monetary or “campaign promises”). But, the underlying question remains. Freud talked about “penis envy”, perhaps it is time to bring “income envy” into the consciousness.
One thing I have noticed about Trumpers is that they’d rather stay ignorant of how the person came up with his money. They really don’t want to know the details. They look away and become quite defensive if you dare to break the crystal cover that protects their idol. For example, believing that he is sent by God. They really need to turn their eyes back to God as their redeemer and pray. Instead they back up the notion that its ok to disrespect anyone who doesn’t agree with their idea of the norm.
There is no logic to voting in a crook to drain the swamp of crooks. The Mueller report has proven that ‘All the Presidents men’ were basically charlatans looking to make a fast buck off the man who never thought he would actually be President. He saw the campaign as one big advertisement. Self promotion (promotion of the trademarked “Trump” brand name) in the media world where he has made (in the reality of things) most of his money.
I know for a fact they would deny it. But, why vote in a man who is not transparent (we still don’t see his taxes, and his department of treasury guys says we can’t see his travel expenses until after the election is done), who doesn’t pay taxes (exaggerating self, property worth, and losses, filing bankruptcy into multiplicity), who can’t tell the truth if his life depended on it, who has been found guilty of cheating people out of their hard earned money with false promises of education (Trump University), who has been accused (several times, so there is a grain of truth in there somewhere) of rape, and sexual abuse. Why in God’s name would anyone vote for such a degenerate?
They must be able to close they eyes and their minds to the truth and see the false “golden idol” (his toilet?) as something it is not. It is NOTHING to aspire to. He is morally bankrupt. I’d rather be dirt poor (I am basically) than to aspire to anything close to what he is. In their own positions, whatever they are, a vocal few over looks his “minor” imperfections which are not minor at all, calls him one of their own, and supports his cause. Something is truly wrong with this picture.
So the conservative movement in America was born in the deep south just after the revolutionary war. The north took 24 years to free the black people from slavery, but there were still attitudes and racism to overcome up there. As society relaxed up there and society explored what had been put into motion in terms of social civil change up north the South recoiled, became more conservative, and became more isolationist (best word I have for it at the moment). They had to. Because that was the only way to preserve their way of life -their justification was the bible, their belief in racial (and/or sexual) inferiority, etc.
(Note: keep in mind that when conservationism was being born it was the Democrats who were those who were deeply in the movement to keep people of color down; the parties have since flip-flopped)
If people today only realized the legacy of what and where they believed in came from. They might rethink their stance. It is fact that many things that conservatives stand for today are still meant to hold down human beings with skin a different color than their own (majority) and that of the females in their circles.
To look the other way and say it’s not true, to deny the actions that come with the beliefs is asinine and terribly unacceptable to the “aware” and principled person. To be willing to hurt another even indirectly with a belief is still hurtful, and controlling of the other, regardless of who the perpetrator may be.
I can only speak for myself. I would never, EVER assume to know what a person of color lives through even today. Except to say whatever it is, if the action is controlling, defacing, dehumanizing, depersonalizing, or violent in anyway it is just flat out wrong!
As a woman I can testify that there are men out there who still dare to demand that we “keep our place.” There are women who still dare to hold down those more vulnerable than themselves in order to hold the spot they’ve carved out for themselves.
My personal experience has shown me all of this. From my childhood and on to today.
Today, Mr. Trump is a prime example of the movement come reanimated by conservatives to keep the old and familiar ways alive and kicking.
If there is any consolation today — it is probably that these are the last breaths of a dying breed. Or at least one can hope? We know they are in the minority and yet have voices that are shrill and screams. Yet loud and constant as they are there is no place in this country for racism, misogyny, or any other type of misplaced hatred and anger that is directed at those with less power than themselves. The disabled are not disabled by choice -be it mental or “physical” it all emanates from the body which truth is makes it all physical. It matters not if the body refereed to is our physical body, the body of our society, or the body of our spiritualism — if it is sick, IT IS SICK.
My ever growing and more educated opinion. LOL!!! Copyrighted 2020, Peggy A Rowe-Snyder
Also, I do not know it to be fact yet. But, I suspect that the “angry white male” came out of the south as well. At one time, they WERE the minority. That is a historical fact. Which is part of the reason why they had to be so brutal in terms of controlling the slaves below them in the social ladder. What’s more, most of this minority, was even more a minority because they were the men who worked themselves up to being the super rich (well, their slaves worked them up to). They were yesterday’s 1%. The work they set out to do (conscious or not) — was to keep those who were socially below them (people of color, hillbillies, women) in their place. They did that in a lot of different ways -but brain washing is a method that comes to mind. The entire white south came to support a very small minority of white rich men partly because their way of life was something to work up toward. Keep that in mind while you are thinking you are part of some unheard of and nonexistent minority! What good are riches if you are morally defunct?
The link above is a link that will take you to a story about a family that dealt with this issue in Florida. The article was published in 2016.
Another article here about the same subject from a publication: Psychology Today
The short story as far as I am concerned, is if it’s not a crime, it sure should be. And I can tell you, that in the state I live in, it is most definitely a crime. We had a neighbor who ha a son who at the age of 12 or so assaulted a younger cousin. The young man spent time in detention (Juvenile) and then he spent time in therapy and on parole. I have my doubt that any of it helped. The father was a raging alcoholic & meth addicted and we actually heard him in a loud (yelling) voice from our home across the street correcting his son, “I don’t care if you lie to your parole officer, don’t you ever lie to me.” The boy ran away from home at 16. The father finally got kicked out of the home for lack of paying the rent.
• Inappropriate or unwanted sexual contact with other children As stated above, while some physical exploration should be expected, it should always be with the caveat that the contact occurs between consensual peers. Granted, consensus can be difficult to define or establish at younger ages, but sexual bullying, harassment, or assault are never okay. Children must be taught to respect the physical boundaries of others—only then can they be expected to internalize their own physical boundaries. (from the Psychology Today article listed above)
My guess is if the assault by one child perpetrated against another child is not legal in Oregon, then it’s not legal in most other places too.
So, what is the point of this? Well, it’s to point out that this problem exists. The boy would not have been a perpetrator if his childhood life had he himself not be perpetrated on. Of this I am sure. But, it does not excuse the behavior and nor does it stop the behavior.
If we are to break the cycle, then these behaviors and those that cause it to happen need to be stopped. I don’t have all the answers. I’m presenting the problem from another point of view.
I know these things happen from personal experience. I was assaulted on my tenth birthday by an older child. The assaults continued for some time. I never even thought to tell a person and she was never caught. Her family still doesn’t know. My family treats me like I am a liar, and the pain has been there since that first assault in 1972.
In case, one might believe there was consensus on my part, the answer is no there was none. I said, “NO” plainly. I was disrespected.
Watch your children. Watch other people’s children. It might be a rare thing that happens, though, I highly doubt it. Educate yourself so you know the signs. Beware.
Books about the treatment (as in psychology) of children who assault other children:
Working with Sexually Abusive Adolescents Bhate, Dr Suryakant R., Graham, Finlay. Working with Sexually Abusive Adolescents: A Practice Manual. United Kingdom: SAGE Publications, 1997.
Treating Adolescent Sex Offenders in the Community, by Charlene Steen, & Barbara Monnette, C.C. Thomas, 1989, University of Michigan
Treating Youth Who Sexually Abuse…
Treating Youth Who Sexually Abuse: An Integrated Multi-Component Approach
A comprehensive program of treatment for adolescent sex offenders!
Covering every phase from assessment to relapse prevention, this valuable book offers specific suggestions and backs them with the latest research as well as years of clinical experience. Treating Youth Who Sexually Abuse: An Integrated Multicomponent Approach is a training tool, reference book, and field manual for the use of therapists, administrators, and everyone involved with the assessment, treatment, and placement of sexually abusive youth.
Beginning with a broad view of the continuum of programs available and the structure of the service-delivery system that provides treatment, Treating Youth Who Sexually Abuse continues with specifics of program policy and design in both outpatient and inpatient settings. From choice of client to aftercare, the book covers the specifics of pretreatment, various modalities of therapy, inpatient and outpatient programs, and relapse-prevention programs. The foundations of program structure and the specific components (such as family therapy, group therapy, milieu treatment) are integrated to make a powerful, flexible, and above all effective treatment tool.
Treating Youth Who Sexually Abuse offers practical advice and help for therapists and administrators, including:
ready-to-use treatment materials
reproducible group curricula
sample schedules for full-day treatment and afterschool programs
discussions of staff training and administrative concerns
information on liability issues
ideas for coordinating care with other treatment providers
Treating Youth Who Sexually Abuse: An Integrated Multicomponent Approach is an essential training tool for students, a field manual for professionals, and a reference book for everyone interested in sex offence-specific treatment for youth. With case studies, diagnostic criteria, helpful tables and diagrams, listings of organizations in the field and Web addresses, this volume deserves a permanent place on your professional bookshelf.
Along with a list of Related books from Google Books:
[please note, there is special coding in the underlying workings of this page that causes me to get any form of monetary payment if you click the links below]
National Institute of Mental Health (U.S.), National Center for the Prevention and Control of Rape (U.S.), C. Henry Kempe National Center for the Prevention and Treatment of Child Abuse and Neglect
My dad tickled us two girls until we cried. It was a ritual. That was in the 1970’s Today, My husband and I have been watching a Netflix show, I think called, Mind Hunter. There is an episode that deals with tickling. Which led me to do a search for tickling with different language than I had ever searched with before. I’ve wondered for years now if the behavior crossed boundaries. When I got old enough to describe it, I was able to describe it as “torture.” I found an article cited that makes it clear that perpetrators use it as grooming behavior. All I know from my experience is that at 57 years of age, I still don’t want anyone to touch my feet EVER.
Borrowed this from Ron’s husband’s Facebook page. Ron is a maternal cousin.
The Trouble with Trumpbles
The truth of the matter is there is nothing funny about the Trump Presidency. I still get chills down my back when I think about it. Nothing has angered me more in the past few years as Trump and his environmental policies, his foreign policy, his domestic policy, his wildlife policy— well, all of his policies. I don’t like him, I don’t like what he does. When missiles started landing the other night, I wished him dead! He is poisoning our country, it is that simple. Having said all that. You’ve got to laugh once in a while, in my case, probably to not cry or at least to bring my blood pressure down. I’m sure the Trump induced stress has shortened my lifespan by at least a couple of years!
[Note: From my Facebook Feed] [Graphic by Peggy Rowe, 2020] Also taken from a post found on the page of cousin, Donald Beattie …
A graphic made in answer to a friends stupid graphic about wanting closed borders and other idiotic things.
Why do people still support Trump after he called part of the Constitution phony?
Perry Phillips (As provided on Quora) Answered Dec 25 I finally have the answer here! And it is something of a Christmas miracle, as I have been trying to figure out for countless hours before coming across what I believe answers the whole question.
Specifically, I have been intensely curious about who the followers are that support Trump regardless of what he says, does, tweets, offends, etc.
The answer lies within the psychology between leaders and their followers. There are two specific categories, I believe that the followers can be easily lumped into.
First there are the folks who are proud to have a leader who possesses their own (unpopular and politically incorrect) fundamental beliefs. In this category the white supremacy people can be found it would seem, but also dozens of others who are also narcissistic (as the Donald is) and have deep needs that cannot ever be adequately filled. However, because they are pre-occupied with a value system that is concerned primarily with just themselves—they are not accustomed to seeing anyone previously in public office that speaks to them in the same way that DJT does. He shares their view of the world and promotes putting one’s self before the needs of anyone else. For these guys, Donald Trump is the key to their lock. He fits perfectly.
Second, there are folks who only feel worthwhile so long as they can attach themselves to someone else who they believe is prestigious, powerful, beautiful or extremely intellectual. This group of people are (like narcissistic types) characterized as deeply wounded people. But this second type only feels whole when attached to someone else they think is their “ideal” leader. They seek a heroic “rescuer” who they believe can drop into their lives and improve everything they have previously found to be quite stressful.
Both groups seem to have a very similar value system. They both seem to forget that no one in the WH will ever be able to solve their problems on a granular level. Regardless of what he/she says.
As the President of the United States, they are in a position that has evolved to be consistent with supporting a population of ~330,000,000—they are simply in a job that cannot possibly address issues that can be felt on an individual or even semi-individual level.
But specifically, Trump as a leader feeds on the adoration of others. So, the love that he feels for his “followers” may be genuine to the degree that he does, in fact, “need” them. He continued having rallies even after the 2016 election was over because he truly needs to hear a crowd reinforcing his ideas, words, feelings about anything. It has been said that he (like other “charismatic” leaders before him) has a hypnotic effect on his followers attending those rallies… maybe because of the deep needs of all being met on such a primal level.
These kinds of “leaders” all have the following in common:
The followers believe that their leader is somehow superhuman The followers blindly believe the leaders statements The followers unconditionally comply with the leader’s directives for action The followers give the leader their unconditional emotional support Also consistent with the Donald is that all the leaders of this type rely heavily on the us vs. them premise. The “them” can be the illegal immigrants, the “democrats” or “liberals” or the MSM. The “them” has also been extended to (in less obvious ways perhaps) women, children, the disabled, the veterans (POW’s), people who are not of European descent (white), etc.
To his followers who have made it through reading this answer up to this point: Thank you for reading this to the end. I would ask that you consider the possibility that strength in character can be measured by one’s ability to admit when they’ve been wrong.
I am basing my answer not only on what I believe is consistent with what I have come to learn about his followers here on Quora and similar platforms, but also what I have read in a book titled, “The Dangerous Case of Donald Trump” written by Bandy Lee, MD., M. Div.
Dr. Lee has extensively researched this leader/follower relationship and its dynamics. The list of cited references for this research is far too long to post here but can be found easily in the book I reference.
So the short story is that yes, his followers will continue to follow him no matter what he says. The Constitution is phoney, the impeachment is fake, the news is wrong and that everyone except for his followers are out to get him. They follow him because he is able to play on their deeply held psychological needs and although they cannot articulate why, he is their omnipotent leader and hero for life. The followers do not and cannot recognize that he is playing them like a fiddle. At least not yet.
I found this photo tonight. The woman in the middle is a cousin. A first cousin (I think) to my paternal grandfather. She is the daughter of my great great grandmother’s sister. My great great aunts daughter, Annie Elsie Peterson Jenson.
It’s a great old photo. When I first saw it, I really had to do a double take. There are some differences but the point is that the woman, Annie, looks very much like my paternal aunt (Alveta Rowe Gibboney). and the girl all the way over to the left, well, she is me… well, ok, she was here first. I looked very much like her when I was a kid. The girl all the way over to the right–in her I see one of my uncle’s eyes.
What does that tell you? Well, my great great grandmother and her sister (my aunt) were both 100% Danish. They came over from the island of Jutland. What it tells me is that our family looks very Danish. What a surprise!!
This family was mostly born and raised in Manti, Sanpete County, Utah. This side of my family is / was mostly Mormon. My gr gr great grandmother lived there as well, Kirsten Eskelston. She is buried in Salt Lake City.
Thank you to the cousin who posted this. I have appreciated it more than you know!!!
Happy New Year!! (image composition, copyright 2019 Peggy A Rowe-Snyder)
It is the YEAR OF THE RAT! Pray with me that is not a foreshowing of what is to come. I don’t want another four years of a rat in the white house.
You know, I’ve never met a rat that I liked. An ex boyfriend of mine was born in the year of the RAT (1960). He is another one of those guys who has no conscious and couldn’t take responsibility for his own behavior if his life depended on it!
Here is hoping it will be a very good year for all of us! But, especially for you! Thank you for visiting my blog. If you’ve read any of it, and actually survived it, you are a strong person indeed!! Bless you all!! Peg
To my perpetrator: I have been patiently keeping up the status quo, keeping quiet, staying silent, keeping the secret long enough.
When I was about 19 years old. Scott was talking to me about something. It reminded me of what you did to me as a kid. I broke down in tears. I’d never cried so hard in my entire life. I told him what you did to me. I was positive it was all my fault and that it meant I was ‘crazy’. I begged him not to take our future children away from me. After all, I was crazy and deserved it right?
You know what he did next? He asked me to sleep with his sister. Oh, and he wanted to watch. Kind of makes you wonder what he’d done to his sister before that to make him think he could get away with that one! And he was the one that called me, his “empty headed plaything.”
Within a few days of you leaving I told my mother in law what you did to me and how much it had hurt me. I never told her what her son said to me until after I filed for divorce. She then called me a liar. But I was no liar when I was telling her about you. She was livid. She said that was “sick”. She got so emotional about it, that I shut up about it for years. I did not know how to handle the situation around others.
It took me about 25 years after that—long after the divorce, I realized that you and Scott were two of a kind. Both of you treated me like ½ a person. Dirt under your feet for the most part.
You know, I struggled with our “secret” for most of my life. I only resolved it recently. Our age difference was not enough to justify calling it a “molest”. And yet, I tried to tell you NO, and you insisted. Then I grew to like the attention and you turned away with out an explanation. The truth is the way it was handled, the way that I handled the situation and the way you’ve pretty much treated me since, it might as well have been a rape, because that is exactly how I have reacted to it, and lived with it all these years.
I have struggled with my sexuality and identity because of what you did to me. There was nothing normal about what happened. You were the older kid; you knew what you were doing was wrong. If you wouldn’t felt the need to hide it otherwise.
I can’t live with you on my Facebook account anymore.
There are a few things that I don’t get. I’m not sure that you can ever explain any of it to me that might meet with my satisfaction. Because at this point, I see you as a pretty sick and twisted individual who hides behind your Christianity as if it’s going to change the past. At the very least, you owe me one hell of a very genuine apology. Not that I’m going to give it one second of time spent waiting for the apology.
You know… because of what I shared with Scott. All I heard after you visited us back there in Ohio was how much he wanted to sleep with you and then we got to Newark. I had to listen to how he wanted to sleep with my sister. I had been beaten down in every way by him, physically, emotionally, and mentally and yet you took his side and wouldn’t even listen to what I had to say and then had the gall to tell me that “I” was going to hell, if I did not straighten my act up? Just so you know, he’s on wife #5 now. He is still running away from a $30K debt in child support. It was never me who was in the wrong. I did not beat him. I did not rape him. I did not try to convince him that he was stupid, couldn’t think for himself. I never even once told him that he was so brain dead that I should make all decisions for him. But, yes, he told me all that crap.
BTW, My relationship with God is quite honest. How is yours??
I don’t have a friend that came to me after finding out that her child had been molested by her step dad—for support. I never had a friend that I had to tell that her mother was a head witch for some coven, or that I’d have a lot of babies for said coven. How in the hell do you live with yourself and how do you justify judging others knowing you feed a vulnerable person a sack full of lies?? How could you do that to someone that you supposedly love and care about??? What did I EVER do to deserve being treated that way by you???
And why did you tell me those lies?? I was hurting so bad and trying so hard to understand the situation around my daughter, and all you did for me was sow even more confusion. You caused me to lose my relationship with my mother. She has not spoken to me in over 20 years now. Because, ya, I confronted her. Because for many years, I was stupid enough to believe YOU! Do you realize how much damage you have done????
Now, I know I did not have a ton of babies so that my mother and her witch friends could sacrifice them. That was your own little fantasy. I now believe, you felt the need to throw that little red herring out there so that I would not remember or choose to deal with my own hurt and bring up our “past”. The past that I have been referring to as a molest for a good many years now.
I got news for you, as bad as it has hurt me over the years… this letter was bound to be written. In fact, it’s been written many times before. Just never sent until now. There is even an old one on my blog on my website. I’ve been telling you off for years about the way you’ve treated me. You are one of my perpetrators. Not my mother, YOU! Probably not my father, YOU!!! You are a perpetrator. Today if that were to happen and the law got wind of it, you’d be held accountable. You’d have to be on a kind of child parole, and you’d be ordered into therapy and to stay away from children (any possible victims). Do you realize the immensity of what you did to me???
I don’t understand why you even wanted to friend me on Facebook. Obviously, I am no longer good enough for you and haven’t been for quite some time. So, what in the world is the pull?? Must you remind me that you are there for any reason in particular??
Is it to remind me to keep my mouth shut?
Well, I have news for you. I’ve been in therapy for the better part of 30 years now. More than one therapist has listened to me tell them what you did to me and then helped me get through that particular mess in my life. In those moments, It was they who put the whole thing in perspective for me. When I have moments now, I have a very sympathetic and understanding husband who listens to me. You don’t want to meet him. He’d probably expect a genuine apology from you too! This has touched his life in a big way as well. So, your secret is NOT a secret. My sister knows. My mother knows. Everyone in my life that needs to know, KNOWS!
I can feel pain for you because I know your childhood was no piece of cake for you either. Something happened to you that caused you to molest me. To ignore the fact that I was saying no.
Did you ever wonder if perhaps Walter saw us from his yard that day out by the shed?? Maybe that is why he looked at us as if he were undressing us???
As bad as I feel for you, what I really need is to take care of myself. This is my closure. I want you to know that I never forgot. That I have suffered a great deal over the years because of what you did to me. I was confused beyond anything I could have expressed for years and years. You only added insult onto injury by telling me that bullshit about my mother and the witches and all the rest of the crap you laid on during that period of our lives.
And then… really? After all you did to me over the years, you have the nerve to tell me that I need to get my life in order so that I don’t go to hell?? My hell has been right here on earth all these years. And you helped in a big, big way to create it.
I do not expect an answer from you. I expect that you’ll delete this note and try to pretend you never read it. Should you decide that you want to communicate and even perhaps take responsibility for the way you have treated me over the years… then you may do so via U.S. mail.
If you do write me don’t you dare use any hypocritical language like “I’ll pray for you.” You need to pray for yourself. I’m doing just fine, thank you. Unlike you, I have managed to stay ethical and moral. I am a really good person, which I think is probably when you look into the dark recesses of your inner self—you may not find the same comfort.
I am wrapping up my life. I have been very ill, close to death…actually been code blue more than once. I just want you to know that I spent a lot of long years totally miserable and part of it is because of you and the way you treated me.
My address is: *** **** **, ****** *****, **, *****
I really don’t expect anything from you though. Have a good life. When you r ears ring, you can probably pretty much figure I’m cussing you yet again! Or more than likely, having another cry.
The END — [Posted to Facebook] One of my perpetrators is still around. It has taken me most of my life, but I sent a letter to that person today. I hope that a little piece of that person withers away to nothing (maybe there is nothing to wither?). I wish I could see it. Not that really believe in retribution — but to think that I have dealt with all those effects on my life nearly alone for most of the time because at the time I thought it was my fault. I was a kid. So, that one is off the proverbial ‘chest’. Completely done. Not that I expect an apology, I’ve learned in my old age that a true perpetrator never apologizes for anything. They are not capable of an apology or of taking responsibility for their actions. But, I hope that in the process of writing a letter and actually sending it, that I have taken the closure that myself and my family deserve. I count my family in this because they have been affected in a big, big way–even if they don’t know it. That is all I’ll count them in on. Cause they’ve made it really clear they either don’t believe it, or don’t want to deal with it. Just like 90% of the rest of the families out there (which doesn’t make it ok btw). Posted to Facebook, 30 Dec 2019. Said person has had letter delivered and account has been blocked.
My first taste of Beaver Tracks (by Umpqua Dairy) ever!
Had my very first taste of Beaver Tracks ice cream last night. It was yummy. It kind of favored peanut butter/chocolate. The chocolate footballs had caramel in them. What is very cool about this particular purchase is that the proceeds go to the University where I attend.
So, Go Beavs!!!!!
For those keeping up, my grades for last quarter are in:
United States History #1: B Introduction to Western Geography: A Introduction to Climate Change (Science and Lab): A
This quarter I am signed up for:
WGSS223 – Women, Gender and Sexuality Math 60 – Intro to Algebra (@UCC) United States History #2 WR303 – Writing for the Web
Should go much better this quarter. I think I will enjoy all the classes. That in turn will make them easier for me. 🙂 Happy New Year!!
From myself and my family we wish you the merriest of holidays and the best New Year yet. May this season bring you all your desire, but and if not, let it bring you happiness, health, and the Wholeness of Spirit. xoxo ~Peg
A Note to Parents who are Separated from their Children:
This is a different holiday this year. With all kids out of the home and off the property completely, husband and I are enjoying a quiet holiday at home. Though, it was not a conscious decision, we never quite got to putting up a tree, or lights. Nor did we buy any gifts for anyone. Today is just like any other day except to say that we’ll make a turkey and the fixings. But, we may also make lasagna and save the turkey for tomorrow. Who knows! It’s our day!
This is not to say I’ve not enjoyed peering in folks windows and admiring their Christmas Trees. We have neighbors who have ‘decked the halls’ in the most fun and colorful ways. I have most certainly enjoyed that. I’ve enjoyed the holiday music on the radio, and have felt some glee while watching the holiday specials. But, we are giving no gifts, and expecting none. I don’t have to worry about disposing of or even killing a tree! My kitten can’t knock it over either. So, my gift to myself as it were, is peace and quiet. The time and environment for thoughtful contemplation.
For those who wish to know. Two of my four kids talk to me. Two do not. I am at peace with the situation. I do not feel either relationship is salvageable. They will not be salvageable at least until they come to their senses. I won’t be begging for anything. With one I have no clue what the truth of the matter is. All I know is the behavior is over the top and the pain nearly killed me. I’m done crying over that one. The other one was a situation brought over the top by herself and then turned around and made into my fault. I saw it coming so it’s not been nearly so painful. But, it has not been pain free. She has chosen to believe that I have lied to her about writing a piece about/to her when it wasn’t anything to do with her. Neither for her nor directed at her. She forgets that I have my own issues to face. The world, especially mine, quit revolving around her quite some time ago. In fact, my world doesn’t revolve around any of the kids at this point. It revolves around myself and my husband. That is the way it should be. Same child then confided in me. Told me what she’d told her, what boils down to a step-daughter that she could treat her own mother a certain way, but she was not to treat herself that way. What she said to me was proof enough of her “poisoning the well”. The father was already having issues with his daughter and her relationship with her mother. My only goal by messaging the father was to save the little girl from mixed messages and future hurt. The father had said outload that he realized my daughter was a liar. What makes him think that she is lie-free when she deals with him is beyond my comprehension. Someday he will figure out that the “drama” that he spoke about was her over reaction– a way to conceal the truth from him and point his awareness elsewhere. A diversion so to speak. The fact, that the situation was presented in such a way that the father of the little girl actually believes that I purposely put his child into the middle of something is quite interesting. It never entered my mind to do such a thing, because there was nothing to put her in the middle of at that time.
My reaction to being called a liar was hurt. But knowing said child (grown) is angry and hostile towards others she’s not liking at the moment (rational or not) was in the back of my mind. It was, in my mind, par for the course. My particular answer for that specific situation was to give her time/space. Getting even, or whatever it is she has made this out to be is really not my style. I’ll fight to survive, but for the most part I don’t believe in getting even. It is a waste of time and energy. I’d rather let Karma do it’s thing.
Simply put, I don’ need that sort of manipulation in my life. Nor, am I willing to let myself be treated like this any longer. She has sent her friend “Bobby” to spy on me through Facebook. I nipped that in the bud. I view this type of behavior also as more manipulation. He is blocked and will approach me no more. If he should choose another name and approach me, which I’d expect after she reads this (and she can’t help herself) — then I’ll figure it out, and block him again. It will be an exercise in futility.
When one decides to clean up their life, often times to keep that commitment it means getting rid of all unhealthiness — keeping at arms length the ones you hold most dear to your heart. Sometimes it means having nothing to do with them at all, for in the long run, it is often the most loving and honest thing you can do for yourself. I am not in love with arrogance, manipulation, or hostility. They can deluded themselves into to thinking they are “taking care of business” if they like. But, the truth is the two that they’d deem the most unhealthy are two most healthy for there is little arrogance and a willingness and an openness both sides of the story. I have no need for people in my life who think they know it all, who are not open to the possibilities of life wherever they present themselves. If they want to live in a closed system, then by all means, let them have it. I wish them love and luck.
And a final thought–yes, my blog is akin to a private journal. Yes, it is, often, where I come to work out the issues of my life. It is also a place where I come to let others in similar situations to myself let them know that what they are going through is not uncommon, nor are they alone and on their own.
It takes some strength to stand up and do what is right for yourself, especially in the face of obstacles thrown out there in your path by family members that are supposed to not only cherish you, but you are supposed to cherish as well. The threat to your own and sometimes their wellbeing’s can often feel as if its hanging in the balance. If it is a new situation, your sanity may very well be hanging in the balance. I went through a horrible time where I did actually leave home with the thought of ending my life. Had the car not broke down, I may not be here on earth in this form anymore. My message to you, is to hang in there. Things can not get worse, even though it might not feel like it at the moment.
Now, is your time to shine. Commit to your own healing. Check and double check everything in your proverbial checkbook. Make sure the math is right. It’s almost a new year, come up with some new goals for that new year. Make them easy to attain. Many small goals are far better for your mental health than one large one that you may not be able to attain. With many small goals that you can attain, you will build self-reliance, self-confidence, and self-pride. You can go for the large goal next year when your emotions are more settled and you have transitioned to your new life as a mom or dad with the loss of children not so first and foremost in your mind.
The best gift, is the gift you give yourself. Take care of YOU! Prepare in case there can be a reunification, but do NOT hold your breath. Make your life better for you. Your life will be all the richer as you extend your world and discover new ways to express yourself.
Go, go, go… be happy, be healthy, be alive. Wait for no one. Choose to be great! xoxoxo, Peg
Read an article about why people manipulate last night. I’ll get the URL for you at the end of the post.
This really applies to me and my life. There is a big difference between situations where a person may try to influence someone else for positive means. It is quite another when manipulation comes because someone has selfish motivations. The first instance is not even considered true manipulation, however most people I have ever met considers it manipulation.
How does this apply to me? Well, I am guilty of it to some degree. In my case, it became a survival thing. When circumstances reach a point where I just can’t take it anymore–I break. The breaking is what I consider now (with some education) manipulation. So, basically I’ve reached the end of my rope in a very emotional way. It gets everyone’s attention and they stop treating me the way they are for awhile. But, if someone is being manipulative of me, and I am living with them, or close to them, it doesn’t take long, they forget about what happened, and how I make it perfectly clear that I can’t deal with things as they stand, and they start back up again.
My first husband comes to mind at this time. The head games I endured were nothing more than manipulations.
My father comes to mind. I made some new connections while talking to Clyde yesterday. My father would find a dirty fork or plate…some spec of something was on the utensil. (If that is even true). It was always my fault. Routinely dishes ended being thrown from cabinet to sink and believe me there was plenty of anger to go around. I was a little girl. And I was absolutely terrorized. It was not uncommon for my father to wait until we had company to do this. In fact, as far as I can remember there was always company when he did this, and most the time, it happened during a family gathering (holiday time, Thanksgiving or Christmas). My dad was about 5’9″, and maybe I was 5 foot… big maybe. Either way I ended up in tears and scared (terrorized) standing at the sink washing every dish in the house while family sat at the table and enjoyed their holiday meal (except to say, my guess is that no one was enjoying anything at that point except perhaps dad). More on why this is a manipulation in a bit.
My kids come to mind. I hate to admit it, I don’t want to see it, but it is true that four of them are pretty expert at getting their way via manipulation of some sort. They were created by environment more than anything else. They all have a sweet side that is for certain. But, they all are guilty of trying to manipulate the truth or other type actions to get what they want. And just in case any of them read this (and I am aware of two of them that do)–you don’t fool anyone when you lie to get what you want. I am very aware, and if I am not, believe me Clyde is lets me know when you guys are wrong. When he shows anger towards you, you can just about bet it’s because he’s seen you manipulating me. That is the only thing that makes him really angry with you. And a couple of you realize he gets angry with you.
My kids lie to me, they lie to their significant others, they lie to my partner– they are just liars. Most lies are to hide something they are embarrassed about, or about getting what they want (which is still the bottom line to being embarrassed about something). I understand the whys – in terms of childhood experience and I understand why in terms of what they would say to justify the behavior. The problem is there is never any justification. Lying breaks trust. Lying again only agitates that lack of trust and creates a situation where it takes even longer to trust again. Lying creates an emotional scar. Even when it ‘heals’ you can still feel and see the damage done.
Hostility magnifies the effects of manipulation. Hostility can be very blatant. My father was very blatant. My oldest child can be very blatant. Everyone else more or less use passive aggressiveness to get what they want. That would include my mother and sister. Because of the way I grew up, I have layers of virtual walls and fences to keep me ‘safe’ from perceived hostility. I learned as a child that hostility can turn very physical. People get hurt. Because it is a form of breaking a trust, the pain can be both physical and emotional. This is only one way a child in such an environment can grow up and as an adult be diagnosed with PTSD with the words no caring parent wants to hear, “most of it caused in childhood.”
So what lead to this essay? The remark by my sister that I could walk away and not feel a thing. Apparently I just don’t attach myself to people. In her mind at least. I was shocked that she actually believed what she was saying. I’m not sure when I walked away and then showed that I did not care, except maybe when I was filing for divorce or perhaps, once I decided to clean out my life and rid myself of unhealthy people. Even in those cases it’s not that I did not care, it’s that a clean break, in theory, should have made the separation easier. I’m not really sure that is true.
Confrontation, it turns out, is something I try to stay away from almost no matter what it costs me. I’ve even had a therapist notice this and point it out. Its not that I won’t confront a person or stand up for myself. It is that I must be pushed and pushed and pushed and given a choice, I’ll still walk away.
What brought on this “habit” which is nothing more than a survival skill, a defensive measure that a child can take when staring up at a 5 foot 8 inch male who had a habit of making her feel very, very small and helpless. The truth of the matter is that I was hit a lot as a kid, and threatened even more. I was taught over and over again that I had NO power to protect myself. None. So, when I see aggression, hostility, anger, or other negative things, my instinct is to run.
My dad was absolutely angry with me over something while I was growing up. I am unsure just what it is that I did wrong, but whatever it was, I was to blame. Even my mother blamed me. I was tiny when whatever it was happened. By the time I was 2 years old, I could say I loved my dad but did not like him. I grew up with what I termed in my childhood vocabulary as a “mean” dad. He was aggressive with everyone really. With four brothers, I imagine that was necessary to survive. I never had one brother, so I really can’t say. But, dad had no problem whatsoever throwing his weight around, or sending a message in what would be termed today as a very passive aggressive manner. It took me until recently as a matter of fact to realize that part of what I lived through was actually a message meant for my grandparents.
My dad would wait until a holiday, when family was present, but not his family, my mother’s family. He’d find something dirty (or make something up, I’ll never really know) and then he’d yell, and stomp across the room to the kitchen sink and throw (and yell, and yell and throw) each dish into the sink one by one. The whole rest of the family was sitting around the dinner table probably just trying to get through the situation. While this was going on the yelling was about how I failed to get the dishes clean and how I was going to do dishes while everyone else ate. My holiday meals usually consisted of a lot of tears. I was not the only person doing dishes in the home. How dad knew that I was the one that missed the supposed dirt, we will never know. But, then I’d say there was nothing rational about what he was doing.
Except. Later, much later in life, in my late 40’s my mother’s brother explained to me that everyone on that side of the family saw how dad treated me. I was treated much differently from my sister. They were concerned about me. I asked my uncle why no one spoke up. His answer was that everyone was afraid my father would not allow them to see us kids anymore.
So, that part I’ve known a few years now. But, what crossed my mind the other day was that his actions were as far as I am concerned an act of hostage taking. I do not know what happened but whatever it was dad and my uncle got into a physical altercation. They were trying to hurt each other. It was because of something dad did to me. It was so bad that my uncle could not tell me what he did to me. I know that my grandparents considered my father “uncivilized”. So, how as this hostage taking? Well, my father was using me. He was sending messages to my mother, grandparents, and uncle that he could treat me in any way he pleased. The message which I am sure they got loud and clear was not only could he do whatever he wanted, but there was really nothing they could do about it. So, this is one way a father can hold a child hostage. It’s an emotional thing — I was never chained down in the dungeon. But, on the other hand, I could not escape the wrath of my father.
This is 100% true. So, if you care about climate change, and if you don’t, you should, then vote according. It is way past time to get busy on this as a global community. Steps toward adaptation should be being built into our systems now. Steps towards mitigation should be being taken now! Even if we get to the point that we can ‘vacuum’ all the carbon out of the air and we are ‘safe’ tomorrow, it will possibly a take a millennium for the the climate and its weather systems to get back to normal (and yes, climate and weather is by definition two different things)
This was actually a question on the final for that class yesterday. And I got the question right. So, I find it interesting that this is going around. I would say pass this on, repost….. cause this climate change stuff, it is so real. I had a textbook, and access to all the scientific maps, reports, and some of the models to play with to explain it all and lay it all out. No, I’m no expert. 11 weeks does not make anyone an expert. But, it sure does convince you if you have any doubts. People sounded the climate change bells for the public the first time in 1899. Scientists have been watching it since. And for those who believe Al Gore made it up to get rich from, the answer is no, he did not.
This is going around Facebook. It needs to go up on individual blogs, and other websites. This is not about religion. It’s not something that you can believe in or not. This is a real scientific fact of life for us at this point. Email me if you’d like to understand more of the science. (Only one final to go, the toughest too!)
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.
Borrowed from the textbook, available at the AmericanYawp.com
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).
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.
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…
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 canva.com. 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.
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
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.
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…
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.
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.
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!
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!
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 west?
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.
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!
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.
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”
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
CONCERNED…. 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, SHE WAS THE BIG VICTIM.
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.
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!)
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:
BITTER.
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).
7/15/2019
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.
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.
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 findagrave.com, nor a profile atfamilysearch.org, 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:
It’s Not My Department, How America can return to Excellence giving and receiving quality service.
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 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.
Peter’s memorial at findagrave.com (I marked him as famous, and gave him two stars worth. If a person is mentioned in Billboard! Come on…… lol)
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: pegrowe62@gmail.com
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!
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…. ??
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…
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!)
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.
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.
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…
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.
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.
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..
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…..
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. 🙂
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.
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.
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.
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)
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.
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…. 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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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):
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.
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…
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 ~ RESPECT ~ RESPECT ~ RESPECT ~
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
RE: 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.
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??”…
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.)
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.
I’ve turned into full time caregiver before having this information. Now, I know there will be even more intense caregiving needed. I am scared. I am overwhelmed. I am in some ways mourning the person I know and in a way, I am very slowly losing him. In a way it is torture. I can’t go back in time and I can’t change now. I can only choose compassion and empathy and keep on loving him until the end.
This man has true character. He has made, “doing the right thing” a conviction. He has been my guardian angel and protector. He has tried to understand the PTSD, and has taken great care to never hurt me. In some ways I’m so wrapped up in this guy, that I would not want to go on without him. He listens yes, but more importantly he hears me. He encourages me, lets me know when I am right, and he is gentle when I am wrong. When he hears my ‘war’ stories, he lets me know when things that people in my past were people being jerks. Which is good because at the time, I didn’t always know they were being jerks – it helps me to heal to be able to put things in the proper perspective. There are times, I wish I could literally just crawl inside him in some spiritual way, and literally meld who we are-for all intents we are one.
Life can be rough… I need help with him. I need helpl for me.
Sunset at Pt. Cabrillo, Mendocino County. Copyright 2016-2024, Peggy A Rowe-Snyder.
Last weekend, during one of the nights, Clyde and I had a once in a lifetime experience. I’ve fantasized about it for years. Told him before we even considered marriage that it was something I had been looking into before meeting him. He had no interest. I weighed the good and bad and decided that he was worth shelving what I wanted, even if it meant the rest of my life. Up it went, in my mind, on the highest shelf. Way up over my head.
I had a book once,. It was called, “The Ethical Slut.” I had a daughter ask to borrow it. I’ve never seen it since. Funny how your very own kids think they can walk off with your stuff and you are ok with it. Funny, how the parents know it and keep their mouths shut about it to save face. Sort of. Obviously, I just opened my mouth about it. The imperfection or rather the dysfunction in the family runs wide and deep. Another daughter thought that she could walk off with one of my mixing bowls and that it would be ok. Later she informed me she did it. There was no question about if it was ok with me. Actually, my bowls walking away from home has happened a couple of times. If my kids decide they want something, they have a tendency to take. Should my kids decide something of mine isn’t worth their time and effort to wash (or whatever) they toss it. They think I do not know. Is this a common parental complaint? I’ve never heard a parent complain of these things. I know I’d never dared take anything of my parents out of their house without their permission. Where do people get off? Where do my kids get off?
I digress… 🙂 Normal for me.
I digress but, I want you to know that I am tickled pink about the situation I find myself in; it is mind blowing, it made me happy, it boosted my confidence. I got a thrill. I had so much fun and so did Clyde. If you have not read, “The Ethical Slut” then please note, it is about open relationships. Open, committed, truthful, trusting, loving relationships. IF you have trouble with reading about that then please just click to another website. But, if you wonder at all. Here is my opinion based on my very first experience with a threesome where the ultimate goal is a polyamorous relationship. I am aware btw, that one experience does not make a for a quality opinion. Perhaps.
I heard about and started studying the idea of polyamory back around 2002. Met Clyde in late 2003, or early 2004. I think in Feburary 2004. My first saved chats are from early March 2004. By 2004, I’d read a few books, and other media. I’d talked to a few people and I was persuing relationships with people that might lead me to that outcome. Though, I’m not a person to confront an issue or a person necessarily, I am the person who will cross that bridge when I get to it. I had two couples I was talking to, both in the Bay Area. But, I gave it up. Over time, I came to believe permanantly. To have a relationship with Clyde who wanted monogamy.
Well, going back even further in my history, Girlfriends have been kind of hard for me to keep. My first serious girlfriend was a neighbor girl. No, not that kind of girlfriend. Just a friend girlfriend. We were both little. We met when I was in kindergarten I suppose. Her maybe first grade. I really don’t remember that far back in terms of friendships. I do remember Mrs. Newall my first grade teacher though. She pulled my hair for talking too much in class. LOL. That first girlfriend was fine until she hit her teen years. She was a little older than I was. I hit my 10th birthday, and that was the end of my innocence. Everything changed. She touched me in ways that I was not prepared for yet. I said no, but everything she said was yes. She was older, more dominant, and pushier-and got her way. Over time, I learned to enjoy the attention, which from what I understand is pretty normal under those circumstances. But, the effects were profound.
At that time I had no clue what a lesbian was, and in my world no one talked about it anyway. I did not hear the word until I hit Junior High. I did not hear the term “Bi” until even later, probably as a young adult. But from Junior High on, I had two problems, I really enjoyed looking at girls, and what in the world was I going to do if I were lesbian. If I ever was one, I kept it closeted until my early 40’s. And no, I don’t think I am one now. But, once upon a time, I thought I might be. My mother had made it very, very clear that marriage was between one man and one woman. Nature would have it no other way. Once I knew that was the only allowable outcome I knew I was in trouble if my parents found out. I had no one to tell, no one to talk to, no one who would listen. I just had no one. To say I was confused in the rest of my growing up years would be an understatement. The confusion persisted for a long, long time after that too.
The first person I tried to open up to was my first husband. Who heard me out sort of. I was in tears. I thought I was mentally ill. I was crying my eyes out when I told him. I was begging him not to take any potential future children away from me. This young man that I was married to, had much more experience in the world than I had had. He once told me he and a friend found a stash of magazines (porn), etc. all, adult in nature, so he had some education. You’d thought he’d hugged me and reassured me even if, it was saying something like, “its going to be ok.” But, nope, he turned looked at me, and asked me to sleep with his sister and let him watch. I tried to talk to his mother about it, because she was pretty understanding and open minded, I thought. She was quick to react, and shut me down. She said what happened was sick and it should have never happened. Then she was done, and that was it.
My next “girlfriend” I met as a sophmore in high school. She was a year or so older, and to be honest, she was my best friend until I was in my 40s. We both had our issues, but she is a wee bit more judgemental than I am. Not nearly as open minded, curious. She’s also pretty hypocritical in a lot of ways. To actually admit that I might be bi or lesbian would have been a big no-no with her. I kept my mouth shut knowing that, she judges where she really has no reason to judge. After all she’s never been perfect. The truth is though, she helped me through some really tough times, and I do still miss her. I might have talked to her about it what my first girlfriend did to me, I honestly do not remember. If I did, she was the first person who was “non-judgemental” about it. Which would have been good for me. I needed some acceptance, and support. Pretty sure I told her actually. She supported the child victim very well. But, I never told her about all the confusion it caused. It felt it would never be safe. There were times I tried. I’d ask questions and try to send out feelers to see if it was safe. I always thought that the answer to that was, “no.”
If you have a secret and want it kept secret then don’t tell her. I was in the hospital and getting a pacemaker when she informed my then boyfriend, Clyde about my history. The history she had no right to inform him of. He let me get to feeling better then he told me what she said. Mostly I had to say, yes, that happened. Other times, it was more like, “that is what I suspect, but I don’t actually have a real memory of it.” I tried to be truthful, and I think I did alright, he stuck around. I never said anything to her about it. It would have been wasted breath to be honest about it. People are who they are, and I’d figured that one out. It was part of the price I paid for having her for a friend.
Clyde and I had a great game early in our relationship. I’d see a cute gal and I’d tell him we could look together. LOL. Eventually, I’d say, ‘go and get her, but you gotta share.’ He’d just chuckle at me. We had discussions about what I was looking for. He made it clear he wasn’t interested. Mostly I let it go. But, every spring, the pull or whatever it might be called would start all over again. For the longest time, year after year, it seemed to only get worse. My attraction to women was not going away, and in fact it was getting worse. Somewhere around year 13 or 14 into our marriage I flat out told him that if a gal offered, I’d have a hard time turning away. I wanted to know who/what I am. It took time, but Clyde admitted he’d spent time with a couple, where the husband would watch tv while the wife was in the bedroom with a girlfriend. He was pretty sure he could do that too. I had permission. But, he still had no interest in polyamory. Or at least that is what he said.
Keep in mind that this is the short sweet version of the story. He once asked what I thought about him bringing home an old girlfriend. I said no. He asked why, and I said because the experts remind us that the ex’s are our ex’s for a reason, and WE did not need the baggage. Its been a learning situation for both of us as we learned to play nice, and I have to admit, it was me who needed to learn to play nice. When you realize you are with the person you were meant to be for the rest of your life, and you know, from experience you never want that person to feel as if you took them for granted, you (or rather I) bent over bacwards to not start fights. To keep my voice down. My temper under control. To never push him to any limits where he would need feel the need to leave, or give up on us. I think I did well.
We had met up with two couples as well. One couple we saw several times and had a couple of dates. One couple we went out camping with. But, in the process of getting to know each other, one couple had a gal, Robin, who was not so nice once she decided that we were not committing soon enough to suit her, and the other couple, Mike & Tammy, moved somewhere else. I will say, if I’d had the opportunity, I’m sure I’d moved to where they did too. Its just how it worked out. The man did kiss me goodbye, we thought we were going to meet again. But, it was not meant to be. I pointed out to Clyde that a kiss had happened. He seemed to have no issues what so ever. This shocked me.
It has taken us nearly 20 full years before I found someone (a gal) who was suitable to be both a friend and partner. At this point, for me. Because I thought that is how it would go. But, I prepared this friend for the hoped eventual outcome from my point of view, if we all liked, if we all agreed, etc., polyamory, a person we could commit to and taken in as another committed person in our relationship was the goal. I told her we did not necessarily have to live together, but we would consider it a marriage at some point. She said she was willing to try it. She & I promised to go slow because our friendship was way more important than anything else. That is still so true. She is my new best girlfriend. We’ve clicked, and I mean right off the bat. She knows what to say and when to say it. She just says all the right things. She seems so sincere. Her face is just the cutest. Shes a little younger but reasonable, I’m not really robbing any cradles and neither would be Clyde. Old enough for consent. LOL. Willing to try anything twice, and that’s a quote.
We’ve been talking nearly a year now. Had been talking nearly six months by the time we met in August at Stewart Park. She was very excited. Clyde was very sick. We had so much we had to go through. Husband needed a new aortic valve. The neighbor I was caring for was now on hospice. Hospice had called me and told me that I was his ‘person’. I was given instruction in how to give the man morphine. I went into crisis mode. Which meant that everyone was kept at arms length as I tried very hard to manage and prevent any fall out at home. My big fear of course, was that one or the other of the men (Clyde & the neighbor) would die with me not there. I was committed to caring for both, two households.
Keeping anyone at an arms length; its just what I do. I am not sure she had realized. Once we talked for a couple of hours at the park and then we each went home. Clyde & I one way, and she the other. Then we met again in early February this year (2023). She was homeless and living with a young couple with small children. I told her when she was ready for a break to let me know, and I’d pick her up and bring her over for a weekend or whatever kind or length of vacation she wanted/needed. She came for three days. Then I took her back. In terms of physical relationship goes, nothing more than a few pecks happened. It was purely, in my mind, a developing friendship. My idea was to truly give her a vacation. She was tired from helping with small children and coping with sleeping on a couch. We did flirt just a little bit.
Within a few days she let me know she missed our home and how quiet and peaceful it was. How much she missed us. How amorous she was feeling. I told her that I really wanted to talk to Clyde. His second stroke had left him with some memory deficiet. I wanted to be sure he remembered all the conversations we’d had over the years. I wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to shock him with my potential behavior. I wanted to be sure he was still ok with it. Even though I’ve talked to him many times about the subject, and even though he’d never had a bad response about any of it, I was scared to bring it up. The man has never been anything but supportive and loving toward me. Those old feelings of fear come from my past, and sometimes they overwhelm me. My girlfriend and I continued to talk every few days. Again I’d told her when she was ready for a vacation to let me know. She only took a couple weeks, and she was ready to escape.
Last weekend she came for another visit. The last weekend in February. By this time, we both knew we were interested in one another on a physical level. There was no if, ands, or buts about that part of it. I was still trying to keep her at arms length, but, it was because I still had not talked to Clyde. She was very good at telling me what she was interested in. We were both pretty sure we were “in love” though I held back for fear of being wrong and not wanting to hurt anyone (and that is still where I am standing). She is makes it clear she loves us both. Her birthday was the last day she was with us. It was her 55th.
On her birthdays eve, I told her I wanted to get a shower, and then talk to Clyde because I had chickened out, though I wasn’t so sure why I was so damn chicken. Then I’d be back to “her room” to at the very least talk. I told her that if anything physical happened it would probably be just kisses as I still wanted to go slow. Probably just talk is what I told myself. Instead of getting straight into the shower, I went straight to talk to Clyde. To make a little talk littler, he could not believe we had not had sex yet. When I mentioned she was willing to be a wife, and refeered to her as mine, he corrected me, and called her, “our wife.” He said, it all depended on she and I wanted. Bottom line is if I was waiting for his permission there was no need to wait any longer. I had been waiting for his permission. I explained to him, that I did not want to feel as if I were sneaking around, and I wanted to be sure he was not going to be hurt. The last thing in the world that I ever want to do is hurt him. The more we talked the more excited I got. I totally forgot about my plan. I realized that I needed to step out of the middle between she and him, and let them start interacting more. She needed to be in on this conversation. I went to where she was and told her what he’d said, and I grabbed her by the hands and led her to our combination bedroom/livingroom. We all laid down on the bed, though, in my mind it was to talk not to have sex. I don’t remember who said what, or why, or anything. All I remember is hearing him saying he wanted to see us make out. She reached over him and laid on the very best kiss. Once we were done with kisses we each took our places on either side of him, he’d made it clear he wanted a girl on each side of him. He proceeded to kiss her and she held his face in just the same way I do. I knew that there was an intimacy there that she was willing to give and share with him. There is no making a show of that, it’s real or its not. It was real. His smiles were real, and as I have pointed out to him he was consistently himself. LOL. He treated her with as much gentleness, and sweet touches as he does me. I had absolutely no issues watching as he brought her over the edge. As far as that is concerned, I had no issues helping. LOL.
We all needed a rest. Those two started to go at it again. Which was fine. Except that to get where they needed to go there needed to be a shift in the bed. Suddenly there was no room for me, and that is where the “hard” feelings came. To be dismissed shortly as I had asked for it. LOL. I had also throughly enjoyed myself. I left the room for that shower that I had meant to take earlier in the night.
At one point, I looked at Clyde, and said, “honey, I think I am bi.” He kind of chuckled in his way, and so did she. Eventually, she went back to her bed, and we stayed in ours, and we went to sleep discussing just what to do about sleeping arrangements. We can play musical beds I suppose. She requires a hard bed. I want a soft one. We have both in the form of two queen sized mattresses. I said to throw them on the floor side by side. He doesn’t seem to be too interested in that. I think we’ll slowly figure that out.
The next day, I had an appointment at my advisors office at the local junior college. He asked me how I was. I told him, I was having a once in a lifetime kind of day, and its been great. He waited for me to elaborate, whereas I had no intention. LOL I found out what math classes he’d have me take, gave he gave me some advice and I went on my happy way.
Now, all I want to know is when is she coming back because I’m hearing I get my friend all to myself. So, for now it’s one day at a time. I’ve showed her our wedding/engagement ring arrangment and asked her if she was interested in matching rings if we ended up there. She had a cute expression on her face, and I heard an affirmation. She’s ready to be a wife and a friend. Which really in today’s world Clyde and I needed to feel lucky for finding each other let alone another person who might be compatible. There are a lot things that need to be discussed. Lot’s of stuff to work out in terms of getting along. She is still actively dating and I for one do not expect her to stop. But, what happens when she brings a boyfriend or girlfriend home. All of that needs to be talked about.
In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy my bliss. Follow my bliss. Enjoy the new found freedom, and the affirmation that I can love men or women and its ok. i will also throughly enjoy the fact that I am 60 years old, and still living life in the absolute fullest way I can. I have my disabillities. All three of us do.
That was my once in a lifetime day. Funny thing, Clyde said in a tone of disbelief, “And it took us 20 years to go there?” No, my family still has no clue. I’m in no hurry to share. I feel its no ones business until I am ready to share. Though, I am confident that some family members read this blog. Having said that, if they don’t like it, they can keep it to themselves. I’m doing what I want, and am going to relish the moments while they last. I will also be actively looking to relish even more new experiences as well.
Sex for me is a religious or at least a spiritual experience. I believe it has its place in our recreational life. I believe it can be used to bring people together in so many ways (Ask the bonoboos, um, chimps what it does for them). It is so much more than an act to lead to the creation of life. I believe that humans are fully capable of loving more than one person and if those loves are treated with respect, truth, and acts are looked at and acted upon ethically there isn’t a thing that can’t be worked out with lots of communication. Polyamory, is a form for me at least, a way to celebrate the fact that we are living beings. We embrace our humanity and share it intimately with others who also wish to celebrate. Its our own private party! Join me!
Have a great day!! P
For what its worth, this work is copyrighted 2023, to Peggy Ann Rowe-Snyder. Please do not reuse in any form without permission. Thank you.
Love is supporting the people you care about in the most sincere and positive way you can.
A few thoughts:
In answer to this graphic, and for those in the family who want to love everyone including the perps:
There are people who only want to love everyone and when they do, they sometimes deny someone that they love their truth. Trauma happens and denying it doesn’t show love at all. If anything it makes the person whose trauma is being denied feel unloved. In fact, it makes them feel like they are being treated like liars sometimes. Inevitably the denier will ask why this or that happened or didn’t, and it sounds like they are supposing that the traumatized person has never been traumatized. In fact, they are expecting a traumatized person to act normal and to not show any kind of defensive behavior at all. This is not realistic on the deniers part.
To ask the deniers we will find that the traumatized actions are not understandable in the least. Yet if you bother to look at their history there is usually a reason for everything that happens. Doesn’t really matter if fear is behind whatever it is, or anger, or whatever. The mixed signals are painful, over the long haul the negative messages of the denial are what seems to come through the strongest in the mind of a traumatized person. Because love that doesn’t support the loved one, is not love at all. It can make a person want to run away from that person who wants to love and never look back.
When I speak of support, I am not talking financial. Only being there” for someone who needs you. On that note. If you tell a traumatized person you are there for them and that you love them, and then you deny their experiences by claiming you want to love everyone including their (family) perpetrators –that is simply adding trauma onto the trauma and that is why the traumatized want to run and never look back. In the process of trying to get healthy and outgrow the trauma it becomes necessary to create a healthy world (as is possible) that includes making new friends and family. That includes not looking back no matter how hard it is, and no matter how many tears result from the decision. There are a TON of very strong people out there!!
Having said this… life is sad sometimes. Going through experiences like this, where you hear someone like, say a sibling, say, that she/he just wants to love everyone, in answer to you trying to explain something that explains a behavior. That loved one is simply shutting you down. You the traumatized, the victim, are to shut up, sit down, and behave yourself. No wonder we want to cry, and believe me we do. Yet, we are expected to shut up, and go to our place and never speak that way again.
When I finally move away from where I am now, far away, and never look back. Don’t bother to ask me why. By that time, it will be way to late. I’d rather be completely alone (which by the way, I’ll never be completely alone) I’d still be happier than giving a piece of myself away to people who only pretend to care.
(p.s. when that time comes, don’t look for me either, believe me, I won’t want to be found.)
Let me make it really clear. I do not agree with the supreme court and it’s ruling on Roe vs. Wade. Nor do I agree with the changes they made to the Miranda stuff. Nor am I in love with the idea of people being able to carry just because they want to, not without a license, classes on how to handle a weapon, and a background check: minimum.
Just saw a headline: Basically it said, blame Trump for Roe being overturned. Well, that is yes, true. He definitely played the game the way politicians play it. He knew who his base was and he catered to them. But, what else did you expect??? Did you really think he’d put a liberal judge on the bench considering??
This is NOT 100% on Trump. How many people lived in denial and basically said to themselves or friends that Roe would never be overturned? How many people have taken it for granted? Lastly, how many people took their power to vote for granted and did not bother??
The far right DOES NOT, repeat DOES NOT have a majority in this country when it comes to politics. For them to have this much power, a lot of people took a whole lot of responsibility and flushed it instead of using it as they should have. The message here is to take NOTHING for granted and VOTE!
