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I mentioned, in an earlier blog, that I am spending a lot of time remembering my childhood.  There are a number of reasons for it:  It is a part of what I am today; I am looking for connections between that horrific period and the kind of person I am, to determine if I deserved it (does anyone deserve the “hand they’re dealt”?); and, the ultimate answer to the question “why?” 

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My father was a horrible son-of-a-bitch (pardon my language).  It seemed he hated the world and everything in it, so when anything got in his way, he beat it.  What usually got in his way was his wife and kids.  I don’t know if he wanted a wife, but he, certainly, didn’t want kids.  I remember, when I must have been about three and a half years old, he was drunk and, in a rage (over something, probably, insignificant) and he picked up a 4″ x 4″ and struck me in the head with it.  That wasn’t enough, before I could turn to see if he was going to do it again, he did it again (much like a baseball player would swing for a homerun)!  He had, already, beaten me and the rest of my body was in terrible pain, but the pain caused by those blows to my skull, as you can imagine, surpassed any other.  My parents couldn’t take me to a hospital, of course, because my father would have been arrested.  He wouldn’t allow that!  He was extremely controlling of everything in his world, including my mother, who wanted to help me.

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I was left to heal, pretty much, on my own.  I’m still putting the pieces together (remembering), but that might have been the time my mother laid me somewhere (in my bed?) as if she was placing me in a coffin.  She had written me off as dead or dying and had no way to get help for me… there was no way around the devil, himself.  After what seemed, to me, like maybe days, I moved an arm or leg and gave her hope I could survive. 

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It was a very slow and painful recovery process.  When I was about 95% healed, he was agitated about something (like he couldn’t find his car keys) and directed an angry comment at me.  I had nothing to do with the cause of his anger (except existing, maybe), but replied, “Are you going to hurt me again?  Because, if you are, I want to get a helmet.”  He and my mother both knew why I said that.  My mother touched my head and I snapped, “Don’t touch that!  It still hurts!”  I saw, in my father’s eyes, the despair that he had actually picked up a piece of lumber and hit a child with it, but, I think it, quickly, gave way to recognizing that, at the time, it felt good to him and (in his mind) necessary.  They both wondered where I heard the word “helmet”. 

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While I was explaining to my mother why I needed a helmet and while my father looked for his keys (or whatever), I said “…When I saw God, He was not happy!!”  Both their mouths dropped open and my father collected himself enough to say, “You saw God?”  I shuttered at the thought of telling a man, who had no worries or cares about God existing, that there was a God, but I also recognized the fear he (suddenly) had that there might be One.  So, I said, “yes”.  They asked me to explain exactly what happened, what I saw, what God said.  I told them, in whatever words were available to an almost-four year old (however, smart) child.  I told them that I was in such terrible pain that I couldn’t stand it anymore… then, everything “went gone”.  Gone?  “Like in a [dark] closet.”.  When they asked where I had heard the word “helmet”, I said “Um, God, I guess.”      

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My father’s fear of God wore off all too quickly, but it may have left a mark.  About a year later, my mother sat me down and said she wanted to ask me something.  I think she was fearing for all our lives and didn’t know what to do.  (No matter what she tried to do, he made it clear — I assume — that he would “get to” her and us.)  I guess she had nothing to lose by asking an almost-five year old.  She said I seemed to have wisdom beyond my years, so she was posing the question “What does someone do when they are filled with such fear, despair, and hopelessness, and there’s no where to turn, nothing she can do – there doesn’t seem to be any solution?”

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I thought, briefly, and then said, “Well, can I tell you what God said?”  She, probably, skipped a breath and gripped her chair, but said “yes”.  I said, “Well, I’ve seen God five times now”… forgetting, in the moment, that that was my secret ~~oops!~~ …”and, the last time, I was in such pain.  I mean, I hurt sooo bad, I didn’t want to come back.  I didn’t want to hurt anymore, but there seems to be no stop here.  God was making me come back, though.  So, I looked at Him and I said, ‘Why can’t you stop it?  And why do I have to go back?’  He said, ‘[my name], the stars will not fall from the sky.”

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That said to me that no matter what I was feeling, or feared, no matter what I suffered, no matter how hopeless some things seem,,God had a plan and he would accomplish it, there would be peace on Earth and no suffering.  It left me with No Doubt.  

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I just LOVE my cats, so you’ll have to pardon me if I mention them a lot.  Homey was abandoned (I assume) when the economy got real tough and he found his way, here, to my home.  [Read first blog about Homey here:  http://wp.me/p1cV3H-c8]  I wanted to write an update on how he’s doing.  He’s doing great! 

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I know he has, finally, accepted this as his home.  Generally, he seems much more comfortable, relaxed.  He doesn’t cry anymore and is less skiddish when I try to pet him.  Although I believe the major break-through was when I, relentlessly, called him when he was “missing” for a couple days [under the house, I assume, when he didn’t feel well], the raw chicken and belly rubs had to have helped.         

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I, often, think about what happened to Karen Klein ~~ being bullied by a group of middle school children ~~ mainly because I am haunted by that one kid saying (something like), “You wanna rape me, Karen?  Huh?  Do you wanna rape me?”  That kid’s a little hot in the pants, don’t you think?   What a wretchedly horrible thing to be going through the mind of someone so young — of anyone’s mind, for that matter!

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That’s just the kind of disrespect for women that causes such a person to buy “date rape” drugs [in this case, when he’s older] and use them on unsuspecting persons ~~ the rapist can’t wait and develop meaningful relationships to get sex, so he resorts to drugs to get it.  And, if the rapist is caught, others (including the parents) usually say “we never saw any signs he was like this”.  No, of course not, because you (they) don’t know what the signs are or don’t take, seriously, these demonstrations of lack of respect.  As a victim of date-rape drugs, more than once, it’s my opinion that such remarks are a sign.  [Note:  I was not, at all, a promiscuous person.]

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If that were my kid and he said such things, he’d be taking cold showers until he was 20, or married!  I think convicted sex criminals should be ordered to take cold showers as part of their sentence.  Actually, maybe most people should ~~ I’m really sick of hearing about rapes.     

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The above photo is a demonstration of why I don’t eat out anymore.  About twenty years ago, I went into a McDonald’s and ordered a burger, fries, and coffee.  I sat down, in the restaurant, and unwrapped the burger.  I took a bite and swallowed it… maybe, two bites.  Then I noticed a hair in the sandwich — absolutely, consistent with pubic hair!  I lifted the top of the bun off and there was another!  At that precise moment, a two or three employees burst out laughing from behind the counter.  I was so horrified, I couldn’t have found the words to express it and my anger for the blatant disregard of decency.  I picked up my lunch and threw it in the trash ~~ except for the coffee ~~ and walked out, the employees watching me and still laughing.  I didn’t throw away the coffee, just then, because I wanted to see if there were any obvious signs of malicious intent (before throwing it out).  I opened the lid and there was a blob, floating on top, that could have been spit.  I threw the coffee in a nearby trash can, got in the car, and never went back.  I haven’t eaten in any other restaurant since, either ~~ except for ordering fries two or three times, while I moving from one town to another ~~ and I watched those being fried and salted before ordering.  But, let’s face it, an employee could have peed in the oil before starting to cook with it.          Photobucket

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So, I don’t eat out anymore.  And, I have to say, I have a fear of manufactured foods I purchase at grocery stores because you really don’t know what level of care it was given in the process.

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News Story and Photo Source:

http://digitallife.today.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/07/18/12811582-feet-in-lettuce-photo-hits-internet-gets-burger-king-employees-fired?lite&__utma=14933801.72150199.1342497870.1342547065.1342661409.3&__utmb=14933801.1.10.1342661409&__utmc=14933801&__utmx=-&__utmz=14933801.1342497870.1.1.utmcsr=(direct)|utmccn=(direct)|utmcmd=(none)&__utmv=14933801.|8=Earned%20By=msnbc%7Ccover=1^12=Landing%20Content=Mixed=1^13=Landing%20Hostname=www.nbcnews.com=1^30=Visit%20Type%20to%20Content=Earned%20to%20Mixed=1&__utmk=118649865

 

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A couple nights ago, I was prompted (somehow) to read bullying laws and (about) how to recognize whether a child is a bully or being bullied.  Somewhat dull reading, but I’m always flabbergasted that some basic causes of “bullyism” are not addressed.  Why aren’t children taught the Golden Rule?  Why do children think they are immune from bad things happening to them in the future?   

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If you’ve read some of my other blogs, you’ll know I’m no supporter of the current school system or of people working long hours and not enjoying life.  That having been said, if families were together more and able to socialize as families more, children would learn how to act in public and with age groups other than those they go all through school with (confined to classes of their own age groups, generally).  They would learn by example ~~ seeing adults and other well-behaved children treat all age groups with respect ~~ and they would get verbal guidance, as needed [“Johnny, don’t say that; it’s not nice…”].   

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The bullying Karen Klein endured was awful, but, after the punishment for the middle schoolers was announced, I, actually, felt sorry for the students.  They are four (?) of millions and millions of children and adults who bully, who make life difficult for others by harassing and badgering.  Half of America should be suspended ~~ from something ~~ and do community service ~~ of doing nice things for other people ~~ because rudeness is everywhere!  I have witnessed such extreme rudeness by adults, it’s not a wonder children lack moral guidance.

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I don’t know why children and young adults ~~ actually, people who bully of any age ~~ think their lives are always going to be so perfect, their plans for their futures so cast in cement.  They seem to think they will always be handsome/beautiful, skinny and young, they will get and always have well-paying jobs, won’t ever be forced to live in mobile homes, won’t ever be victims of accidents or crimes that might disfigure them… and, well, all those things we all wish were true.  All people should live by the Golden Rule.  It would better the world in so many ways. 

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I keep wondering if I deserve the terrible life I’ve had.  I think I’ve been a good person, all things considered.  I’m not saying I am flawless.  I have been remembering my childhood ~~ now that I have time to ~~ all the things I had to “forget” in order to survive (like, witnessing my father do something horrific and my having to pretend it didn’t happen, so he would not ~~ I dare say ~~ kill me).  I promised myself, someday, I would take the time to remember.  

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I live in a breaking-down mobile home with no (working) air conditioning.  I actually consider that a blessing, since I can’t afford to run it.  I have had no (working) stove for years — if food can’t be cooked in a toaster oven, I don’t buy it.  My car stalls.  I think it’s the spark plugs.  (The “check engine” light has been on for most of 7 years.  Back when it first came on, I had the problem checked ~~ “spark plug #1” showed up on the electronic diagnosis gadget.  I guess it’s finally giving out.)  The weeds in the yard are getting as tall as me.  I have never had a lawn mower (in the 8 years I’ve lived in a house with a yard).  I’ve been using a weed trimmer to “mow”.  That finally broke.  The part I need is cheap, but I can’t force myself to press the button to find out how much it’s going to cost to ship.  (Have you ever needed a $2 part and had to pay $7.95 to get it shipped?  Ugh!)  A few days ago, I replaced the vacuum cleaner – again.  This one may have set a record for lasting… Did it really last over a year?  I worry, every time I do laundry, that the spin cycle will shake this mobile home right off its block foundation.  I can see a corner block crumbling.  I can’t see most of the blocks.  What do I do if it does collapse?  I have no insurance.  The roof leaks ~~ it’s small and the least of my problems right now.  Possums have torn up the air ducts under the house, so, even if I get the air conditioner to work, I will need to get duct work done to use it.  I pray, every day, that God protects this house from all disasters ~~ including fire ~~ because some ceiling lights and wall electrical outlets have stopped working.  Mobile homes are notorious for fires due to faulty wiring.  My car’s air conditioner and windshield wipers haven’t worked in years.  I actually have to check weather reports before going to get groceries.  And, with the engine situation now, I’m afraid to get groceries — I’m afraid my car won’t start & I’ll be stuck with no (affordable) help and melting groceries.  There are more problems, of course, but why go on?    

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I continue to ask myself why people don’t just help each other and stop this economic nonsense. 

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I try to fix everything myself ~~ to save money and because I don’t trust repair people.  (One mechanic told me it would cost $210-220 ~~ plus parts! ~~ for replace that “spark plug #1” because the whole engine had to be lifted out of the car to get to it.  Is that right?  The research I’ve done, this past week, said replacing spark plugs isn’t difficult, but removing a part (I forget the name) would make them easier to get to.  None of the research (though limited) mentioned having to remove the engine.)  Right now, I can’t afford the parts, even if I researched “how-to” and made all these repairs myself.  And, I am very sick (with lupus) ~~ finding the strength of mind and body is so difficult.  

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So, why do I deserve this?  I guess I don’t think I do…. but, here I am.  I don’t think anyone should live like this.  More later.  I need to turn off my computer before it melts.     

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This has been very hard sharing my personal hell with you…. but I’m breaking down, too.

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The Economy, as we know it, should be just a computer game.  It should not effect people’s real lives.  The game could have all the intrigue and ups and downs of the real economy, but when a player quits for the day, he can do so knowing he and his family are safe and have all they need; outside the game, he can enjoy the real world.  Why can’t we just help each other, in the real world — do things when they need to be done and spend the rest of our time enjoying the world and life?

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Funny, I made a New Year’s Resolution to write here everyday. New Year’s is about the time I stopped writing here (drafts included). I will make the effort to change that and — well – write more often.

Peace.

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As always, I wish everyone the very best. 

May we experience world peace,

have all our needs met,

and, at least,

some of our wants.

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I hate to sound like Mr. Scrooge, but “Christmas – Bah!  Humbug!”  I hope that when — and if — Jesus Christ comes, He/She will do away with “Christmas” (and other like-celebrations, supposedly in His honor).  More and more, it is the most depressing time of the year — for more and more people.

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We hardly get past Thanksgiving — a time when we should be giving thanks for what we do have — when we start spending what we don’t have — money, time, love…  Needless to say, the event has become so commercial — emphasis is on retailers “making” the year, not where it should be — a Savior who, supposed, did and/or will save us.  Please, save us, Lord Jesus, from all this commercialism and misconceptions about you.

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I, personally, would rather have people celebrating their own causes ~~ a time of year, a harvest, ancestry, community festivals.  I would rather have people giving gifts throughout the year — and ones for the most-part they’ve made — rather than this big glut one day of the year (only to have many “returned” in the days that follow).

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I say “cut the crap!”  Find the reasons to truly celebrate ~~ find the love in your hearts.

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May you all have a blessed and peaceful holiday season. 

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