Amends. Apathy. Not Wanting to Get Involved. Being Part of the Problem...

Ever since I was born into a very dysfunctional family, and watched the madness at home, and observed behaviors of my own peers, besides retreating to the forest at times, I have tried to help when I can. Sticking one's head above the crowd gets the tomatoes, but not saying or doing anything, is being part of the problem, itself. As adults, we have to stand up and speak out. Sometimes there is a time and a better place, especially if you have to protect yourself or your loved ones, but sometimes you just have to pick up a broom and start cleaning things out.

Besides cooking and health tips, I share my beliefs and observations on this blog--things I strongly believe we all need to be aware of and be part of. If we are not part of the solution, it is said we are part of the problem.

I know it is tough to speak up, but being complicit is a horrible hell to live in. I was second of ten children in my family of origin, and yet I am the only one who speaks out and makes an effort to heal the sexual abuse and dishonesty and betrayal chosen by the other nine, their mates, etc. My youngest sister was molested by my youngest brother, and she also began to act out and molest some of my children. The harm was unimaginable, but just as damaging was my family pretending I just didn't exist and failing to stand up for what had happened, and support and protect me and my children. Even today, there has been no admission by the two sibs that harmed by abuse, or the rest of the barrel. One sister told me she just didn't want to discuss anything. Only with her therapist. If only I could have stuck my head in the sand while my children suffered. Of course we all did.

Because of their own childhood burdens, and the inconvenience of yet another shame-filled reality, I am understanding of them wishing the problem would just go away. The youngest told me my mother and her husband (who exposed himself to 3 of my daughters) went to an attorney and were advised the family should pretend I didn't exist. That was my experience.

Raising my children with their wounds, on $700 a month child support, without any family support except my next youngest sister who helped out for a while when I was in the last part of school, probably because she wanted somehow to make it right, was so stressful, that when I finally got a cancer diagnosis after fighting it for ten years, it was not a surprise. I didn't know what was worse: teenage years, the sexual abuse consequences, the abandonment of their father or the betrayal of their whole tribe. Inevitably, because my children have not dealt with their abuse or childhood experiences, health issues and consequences, chemical dependency and distance, etc., my own family is also shredded. This is typical. A problem like this is overwhelming. There are so many complexities in this picture, and no discussion, as if it will mend itself.

Eventually the sister who helped me with monetary donations for a few months my last part of school, sounded just like the rest of my siblings and mother. Something about me not being part of their religion (Mormon) and setting a bad example with dating, etc. and so my kids were acting out. ???

Even her attorney husband, Howard, who finally offered to help me file a modification of child support Pro Bono after years of struggling, either kept or waived the amount due from the period of filing to the court judgment, without my knowledge or consent. At the time, I was shocked, and thought perhaps it was some kind of Mormon brotherhood, taking care of each other as fellow tithe payers or something, or because he somehow felt sorry for my ex-husband. The ex-Val, kept all our Arizona property and stopped child support, making it necessary for me to turn him into the State Child Support Recovery.  Perhaps he had forgotten what caused the divorce after...7 children. I recently emailed my sister twice, asking for Howard to get back with me about this issue. It's time for him to make amends, and pay up. With interest, if that is appropriate. I thought at first that I'd be okay for my sis to take out part for her past donations, but hers was a voluntary gift, and Howard's was an illegal, involuntary and unethical violation.

Now that we all are approaching the later years, I think it's time to clean up some old problems. I have heard nothing from my sister. It's been weeks now. That seems to be the problem-solving technique of my entire family, besides blaming me for any problems. I'm just not interested in being their scapegoat, or anyone's. I'd like an accounting.
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So, in world news, I listened to this General speak on a Youtube video this morning, and thought you might be interested...



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Poppycock and Peacocks

Mr. Peacock's mating dance. He left a fuzzy hind feather by the rhubarb.

The 55 and older mobile court I currently live in, until I sell and move further south, has a surprise mascot that I mentioned earlier. A young male peacock has been roosting in some tall Douglas Fir trees and waking up residents with his call at 4 am or earlier or later, in the morning. He has been a bright spot for me, and many of the neighbors, but some don't appreciate his raucous call. I mentioned him in an earlier post.

Lately I watch his mating dance, feathers all displayed, leaving a fluffy small tail feather behind by the rhubarb. I had to run get my camera, put new batteries in it, to get some pictures. I worried that the dance would be over before I could get situated. Out in the yard, I put a full length mirror by a back garden area, by the metal yard art bird that the peacock checks out on a daily basis. I wonder just what he thinks, and if the mating rituals are for Duke the yard bird.

A couple of nights ago, a neighbor told me there were some dead squirrels in the park. This means someone is poisoning them, most likely, which makes me worry about my friend, the Peacock. The management is supposedly trying to scare him away because of some complaints, with lights, and noise, and posting a sign not to feed the Peacock. This is impossible with all the nurturing lonely seniors here, but they are feeding him the same nasty bread they are eating themselves, which can't be good for Mr. Peacock. So, because I feed wild birds, I was at a garden center in Portland looking for a Hops plant and found some organic chicken scratch.

If I shake some of the scratch in a small plastic bag, the Peacock cocks his head, and gets very serious about dinner. He makes his one-note call for food throughout the neighborhood, in the Am and Pm. He comes within a foot of me, as I put the scratch on top of a mole hill that I leveled out, on my lawn. There is water out also, but I don't know if he drinks there or not. I hope he doesn't drink from the pool here.


Along with his varied diet, he has helped himself to blueberries from my bushes, loves to eat tender salad from the green beans and bokchoy plants, squash flowers, pumpkin nibbles and even plucks green peas and tendrils causing the long climbing plant to fall on the ground. I tuck it back up, but it's not that important. Mr. Peacock gets a sacrificial blueberry or two or three on top of his scratch offering, or some fresh garden peas from the pod. He seems to really love the peas. At times I see him in my neighbor's garden foraging under the bird feeder, and I offer him peas, but movement and living in the city apparently has ravaged his nerves (think 4th of July-horrendous for even us, with rubber membrane roofs-not just the noise of illegal fireworks everywhere around us). He'll walk away, and come back and eat them where I've left them.

Poppycock: A friend moved his mother near him, 5 hours away, and asked me to clean the trailer and show it so it will sell soon. A neighbor was parking his car in the driveway, and I asked that he let the fellow know he'll have to find another place. The fellow blocked the driveway the first day, parked in the driveway the next, left his car in the street after ten violating the fire code here (ambulances and fire engines frequent the park), and parked there again on Friday the 12th, despite me asking him nicely to please find somewhere else. If he cleaned up his driveway, he could easily park both cars in it. He lives with his mother in the court. I wondered if he could just move it at 7 in the morning, but it is leaking oil or tranny fluid and I just don't want to clean it up. Since it's inevitable when a new neighbor moves in, he just needs to find another spot or clean his driveway.

Side yard

The last time he did this, after an unasked for park warning of a complaint, I just walked down w/ a friend of mine, took a picture to take care of it later, and went back to fixing the lawn mower on the side of my house, with my friend. This fellow comes down the street with a pencil and paper and asks me for my full name. I ask why. He asks again. Why do you want my full name? "Because you are harassing me, and I'm going to write up a complaint." He proceeds to tell me I think I'm better than anyone else, because I am not going to comply with his request. I try to be patient.


The evening before, I had a visit from another resident who lets his cats roam, against rules, and they are pooping in the garden where I work, across the street, so I asked him to keep them home. I also told him there are people at the park that are so tired of the cat toileting/trespassing problem, they may not take the trapped animals to the Multnomah Co. Humane Society. In fact, Mult. Co was currently refusing to take any more cats. This sets up a sad scenario. I was just the messenger. He later told the fellow I help w/ yardwork something about I was after killing his cats. In the evening, this resident walked across the street w/ one of his cats while I worked in the yard of yet another fellow who can't do it any more, and started talking about Multnomah Co. and other things, ramping up, getting more and more angry. He was hostile, threatening, leaning close to me, and I patiently reached out to try to reason with him, and touched  him lightly on the arm, as I talk with my hands, also.

"You touched me!" he says. I try to tell him I am not his enemy, but his cats are his responsibility. He walks away saying I'm the 'instigator' of reigning in the cats, and I was supposed to move a year ago, and that I'm a 'cat killer'. As I put my tools away and walk back with the resident who carried my weed eater for me, a police car  is visible, and an officer approaches me saying the resident claims I slapped him. Thank God the man I was helping was standing right there, and shows the officer separately in the distance, what happened. "That's not assault, the officer says. That's harassment." ??? This is so stupid and silly, as I was trying to de-escalate the situation, and had no mal intent. "He wants me to arrest you", the officer says. I tell him what went down, and he goes to talk to the upset resident. I go home to drop in bed after I shower off the dirt of the day.


Meanwhile, the man whose yard I mowed, etc. observes the husband and wife that run the Neighborhood Watch monthly meeting, going to the police-calling resident's place with paper and pen, supposedly to write up a complaint. They both are angry with me when I spoke up at the last meeting in July, to defend a woman they had verbally abused, reminding them of respectful, professional treatment in public meetings. So, the man next door to this resident, who was parking in the driveway after the owner asked him not to, coming with a paper and pencil, was not a surprise.

A Personal Injury Attorney would take this case, and make some money, I'm afraid. But, I'd rather spend my energy elsewhere-- somewhere positive. I'm leaving... I can only hope my advocacy work here has helped the neighborhood in some way.

In this Park, there are some houses where obvious drug dealing is going on. The management only evicts certain people who have a drug-using guest, but leaves others. Some of these dealers, for instance soliciting for Oxycontins at $3.50 because they can sell them for $7 while enjoying social time at the pool, go to the Neighborhood Watch meetings. The woman who reported this July 7th incident to the 'management', was upset that I had confronted her son during a drug delivery that day, after I coincidentally heard about another reported illegal sale, telling him he really should find another way to earn money, that everyone is watching him, and prison was inevitable, and his mother needed him. Of course, the large new white Mercedes that slowly ...drove behind my place on Friday, was the rankled supplier, most likely.

The Manager's mode of eviction is having 5 written complaints to get rid of someone, and then if they leave their mobile behind, or can't sell it while paying the $500 monthly space rent, he can take it and strip it. I've watched it happen, and listened to the reports of residents, one buying a shed from the previous manager and his now-manager Stepson, and watching them pocket $100 each.

I've been trying to help leave this place better than I found it, but it takes my precious time, and it's hard to do when many don't appreciate it. I just collated 10 gallons or more in various containers like 5 gallon jugs of oil and water (some didn't have lids and got rain, allowing the floating oil to ooze out on the asphalt), gas and transmission fluid sitting for months by the pool area garbage, gave the maintenance gal a 3x5 card with dates of Hazmat collection 'events', the Metro number and address and hours of operation, $5 for the first 35 gallons and a suggestion to have a collection area that management takes in once a month, without even a thank you. There are sewage lines without caps in empty spaces, ($75-100 fine for each one I've heard) cat poop drying in dirt and dust to waft into the breeze to give people Toxoplasmosis parasites, animals itching and scratching for over a year, empty trailers with price tags of $8500 with mold and sagging ceilings, but the overseeing management in California are just as dysfunctional and passive in response to my certified letter to transfer the liability of safety and public health issues. They have not returned two calls now after my initial call to follow up on my certified letter, unanswered.

Mr. Peacock....moving on.

But I figure, I'm moving on. I am in search of polite neighbors, non-smokers so I can open a window or front door without further respiratory problems, and a new vista.

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Ron Paul's Comments on Assange and Classified Document Publishing by the Washington Post and others...

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Blueberries, Peacocks, Oatmeal Bread, Snowden and Scheduling a Reluctant Self

This morning the blueberries are calling me from two pots out back. I have buttermilk in the fridge for blueberry pancakes, but there is a recipe I saw where you use regular milk and let  the batter sit for an hour for fluffy pancakes. I am a kitchen scientist. Always experimenting. I love to eat, even though I tend to get caught up in other work, overriding that necessary indulgence. I know I need to get a handle on my reluctant self, and schedule a routine. Perhaps it's after years of being overdrawn, raising 7 alone, and then taking care of my father, that I am just recouping. But, earning a living and getting flush with my economics is pushing me, as is behaving myself in the health arena, and getting more mindful.

Last night I watched a Youtube video from FullyRawKristina on her daily routine. She made the best-looking quart? of morning 'lemonade' to hydrate herself, using sliced lemons and oranges, basil or mint, infusing till morning. Her suggestions for health and a flat stomach were:
1. Hydrate-moves everything through to cleanse.

2. Eat 1-2 Raw Meals daily. She eats fully raw, and her recipes are phenomenal. Bright colors of juice, raw peach cobbler, mmmmm. Her green juice recipe is alkalinizing. A great cancer/disease prevention and tool for healing.

3. Eliminate meat and dairy. These are low in fiber and  high in saturated fat, have hormones and antibiotics, (and possible prions and the dairy produces mucous from casein.) I love yogurt and cottage cheese, and I've been experimenting with buttermilk recipes lately, so I try to use balance. Probiotics can come from fermented veggies. That is something I haven't made yet, but I think it would be great. Saurkraut in a can or jar? is not quite the form I'm looking for here. Keeping the gut flora balanced is a key to a good immune system.

4. She suggests taking out all wheat breads and pasta. There's a book she mentioned called Forks over Knives, so you get the idea of salads and juices and fruit over animal proteins. But her main #4 idea is doing 10 min. of ab exercises. It doesn't take much to tone up. She does:
*Squats, Bicycle crunches, 3 sets of 20, planks where you put our arms down and on your toes, hold stomach in and flat for 60 seconds, and she jumps rope, even if she doesn't have a rope.

5. Stop eating after 7 pm, or at least 3 hours before bedtime.
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Peacocks: We have a beautiful male peacock strutting around, holding court on rooftops, being watched and fed by the 55 and older community here. I cringe at the bread they feed him, so I bought some organic chicken scratch mix to contribute something better for this deep blue Persian-art-tailed iridescent creature. Yesterday I saw him spread that gorgeous tail of his for the first time, on a rooftop.

He came within 1-2 feet of me last night, after I shook a baggie of the grains and made a clicking noise. It's hilarious how he cocks his head, and gets serious. The pattern on his back to tail tip is fabulous! I came back from a bike ride to return my Redbox movie, Cloud Atlas, and saw the peacock walking down my road, with a resident watching. I then could run get my bag of scratch.

He calls early in the morning, around 4-5, and sometimes late at night, from the 50+ foot high Douglas fir trees he roosts in. Some neighbors don't like it, have probably tried fireworks and noise and lights at night, etc., to make him move on, but many of us enjoy this wonderful piece of nature. He has been a bright spot in my life, and those that miss a little bit of country.

I put out a mirror last night, at the corner of my little doublewide in the backyard. They are fascinated by their image, but during mating season, the males can fly at a mirror image, thinking it's a rival. He has already come to check out Duke, a metal rooster made of bicycle and garden tool parts that guards my backyard. My neighbor Bill reported that this peacock seemed very curious about this piece of yard art, and then the mirror, just before he shared a raisin bagel with the bird. I only hope my blueberries remain safe on their bushes. If not, there's always the Farmer's Market on Saturday in Gresham, but there's nothing like picking your own huge, warm blueberry from your own bush that you've nurtured with coffee grounds and manure and water. Anthocyadins and sunshine in a blue-staining bite...

RE: cringing about the bread being fed the peacock, and humans....The chemicals and GMO products in our breads and food in general are so gross, and knowing they produce cancer from studies and resulting pictures- that many public seem unaware of- makes me think we will all be developing eating disorders before the pendulum of this corruption is fixed. The contamination is abhorrent. Perhaps when all other nations ban GMO's, the US public will finally speak out for their own health, and children's health and lives. I don't know.

But, I have been experimenting with bread recipes of late. Yesterday I made an Oatmeal Bread with 2 cups of organic old-fashioned oats soaked in 2 c. of filtered boiling water, 1 Tbsp. salt, 1 tsp. cinnamon, about 1/2 c. cut-up raisins, (opt.) 1/4 c. molasses, 1/4 c. honey, 1/3 c. brown sugar.

 After an hour of soaking, I added 1/2 c. applesauce and 1/2 c. scalded milk-I've used what I had-canned milk straight without scalding, or 1/2 and 1/2, etc. Then I mix 1-1 1/2 Tbsp SAF yeast  in 3 c. of organic whole wheat flour, and add and stir, then 2 c. of unbleached White non-bromated Bob's Redmill flour, and knead for 6-8 min., incorporating another cup of the white flour.

(You can add spelt flour, or experiment w/ many different kinds of flours-rice, oatmeal, rye, some wheat germ, or what's left in your fridge or cupboard.)
Let raise in a greased clean bowl covered w/ a dishtowel-(I wet and wring a cotton towel using warm water) for an hour or so till doubled, and divide into two parts, roll each out and into a loaf. Put in 2 greased bread pans, raise till 1" or so over the top of the pan, and bake at 350 degrees for 45-60 min. till the tops are brown and hollow sounding. You can brush the tops with a little milk and sprinkle w/ cinnamon sugar if you wish before raising, or just after baking, brush w/ butter -I use a stick of butter still in the wrapper because it's easy-and cover w/ your now-semi-dry towel, to get a soft crust, if desired. 55 min. for me was about right. It could have used 5 min. more, as the applesauce and oats make more of a dense bread.

I cut a loaf when it was cooled a bit, cut the slices in half after buttering, put some of my strawberry freezer jam on half of the slices, put it on a platter with a stack of napkins, and shared with some of my neighbors. Food is for sharing, and feedback is key to knowing if the recipe is a winner, or not.

Next time I'll share the olive-garlic loaf that cooked up in less than 2 hours total. The smell throughout the house was heavenly. I also brought a tweaked smoky bleu cheese salad dressing to a dinner with this bread. Oh, my goodness! It's so good, I want any excuse possible to taste it with a spoon. Putting salad greens with it is almost criminal, as competing with the taste is an exercise in frustration. '-} I'll share that, also.
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Snowden: If I could speak directly to Mr. Snowden, I would want to hug him and tell him how proud I am for his acts of courage. We need men of courage, true patriots and citizens of the world, to act as checks and balances to protect mankind from the greed, power mongering, lies, harm and invasion of privacy to us all.

He is a whistleblower like Manning and Assange, but regardless of the arguments of how to classify each one, their acts stand as a beacon for the best of mankind. Bravo to all of you, and I apologize for Obama and his lost host of followers. I didn't vote for him. Some people don't recognize true leaders, or have radar for dishonesty. The only reason Obama is saying he's backing off somewhat (which is just another lie like the drone murders), is he knows there is a brewing resentment and growing drive to expel him from office, and give him the same treatment he has allowed for Bradley Manning, Leonard Peltier, and any other political prisoner that he could have 'manned' up for, and intervened to let justice prevail. Working for the Corporations, Bank, Pharmaceutical and other organized crime conglomerates makes him no less than a prostitute. Shameful.

Manning, Snowden and Assange are all in a prized category:
Making Your Life Count

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Father's Day June 16th, 2013

My father Alva Moishe Cohen, or Alvin Marc Cowden as he was known later in life, died December 11, 2008. I am still grieving his loss. Today, on Sunday, Father's Day, I think of him. My cousin Dierdre, who is now 60, whose father was Jerome, the oldest son of three boys, told me in a phone conversation that she grieved the loss of her dad 11 years.

At 58 years old, I met my Jewish cousins for the first time, thanks to helping a friend out with a search for an old friend of his, on Ancestry.com. I found some family information and a partial family tree. I contacted Geoffrey and his wife Billie, and later talked to Dierdre. On Sundays when cell phones for them cost less, or my 71 yr. old Baptist Pastor cousin is done with his Church meeting (Geoffrey is a Messianic Jew) I think of calling them to keep in touch and get to know my family history from an extended family. I know they are waiting for my packet of pictures, which are waiting for me to find, in boxes in a storage unit. Billie typed up the first installment of their history, complete with inserted pictures and sent the letter. I want to reread it. Getting to know family after a lifetime is a bit overwhelming. They lived in Massachusetts, Maine and Florida, (I'll have to recheck the letter) and now South Dakota. I have greatly enjoyed Geoffrey's account of his distant and then close relationship with his father-my Uncle Jerome. As we mature, we can appreciate our parents for their strengths, and not focus so harshly on our less than positive memories. We realize we are just like them, in that despite our good intentions, we are human, also. Learning takes time, and making mistakes in life, or as parents is part of the deal.

My father had two brothers-Jerome and Morton Cohen. They changed their names to Cowden, as in Philly, Jews were still discriminated against in some places, like getting into the universities. There was some quota on how many Jews were allowed in. My Uncle Jerome went to Harvard Law School, and when he graduated, he walked back across the stage and said they had graduated a Jew. As an Attorney at Law, I learned his court documents were so professionally done, well-researched and stated and accurate, complete with being professionally printed, that my Uncle easily won his cases-pretty much before the case was heard. Collecting from his clients was not his strength, nor choosing lasting partners. The boys were raised in Strawberry Mansion, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. It was no mansion, says Geoffrey. It was the ghetto. My Grandmother, Rebecca Fleet was an impeccable housekeeper, and despite their humble beginnings, inspired her sons to educate and develop themselves.

In their Jewish Orthodox home, the oldest son was treated as the most important. My father and his brother were scarred because of this diminishment and lack of acknowledgment and love. I saw the result of this pain in my father's expression of perfectionism and frustration. His pain was immense, and the world around him often paid dearly for the scars of his history. Later in his life, I took the pieces of his history and let my father see them in a different light, and make sense of them. He said it was the best therapy session he  ever had. Another circle of life, with meaning and closure. The daughter that he had left deep lessons in, took her genetic abilities and personality, searched for answers, and delivered them finally, to help her father and herself find peace. The video I made on his history, where his parenting skills, chronology, etc. were discussed, was sent to my sister Alison to distribute to my siblings, so their own lives could be healed after our traumatic childhood. She said she didn't finish the video, and nobody else (8 sibs) wanted to see it. When I was a child, I felt like an orphan, and I still feel like I came from another tribe. One that wanted to know the truth. Someone with some courage. Even as I say that in frustration about my siblings, I know that we all have fears.

Education was stressed, and all of the 3 sons excelled. Morton became a Professor and President? of a Chicago University. Jerome was an Attorney, and later up for appointment for Federal Judge, though he got involved with some interstate fraud with an acquaintance and served time and was disbarred. His father Barney, did not set a great example of honesty, borrowing money and not paying it back. He did this to my father, and feigned running to the train as it left the station at Pottstown, Pa, as my father traveled to Reed College (the Oxford of the West) in Portland, Oregon.

He felt betrayed by his father, and never forgave him, urinating on his grave in San Antonio, Texas. It seems my grandfather had to leave his Philly homegrounds. Not too surprising. My father said he went to Texas, "to be among other thieves." My father said his dad was a screamer, and he hated it, but my father did the same thing.

My father worked in the financial world, in the stock market, but was offended by anti-Semitic remarks by his associate and boss, and left. My father never suffered fools, or had a lot of tolerance for ignorance. In my opinion, we all are ignorant in many areas.
He became a salesman, and had a tough life. His biggest project, (and I see my ability to multi-task and collate/integrate many ideas to create) was to get permission from David O McKay, the Mormon Prophet/Leader to put together a Mormon book of Scripture, or Family Bible. During the collaboration of that project, there was jealousy of my father's abilities, blackmail, etc., until he got a Mormon Attorney, Chris Ronnow from Cedar City, to file a lawsuit against the people involved: Gordon B. Hinckley, Loren Wheelwright (publishing), etc. My father won the suit, but in the small pay-out, never realized the fruition of his work with the royalties,  and birthright of intellectual gifts, and struggled financially the rest of his life. He said he saw the corruption of the Mormon Church, and admitted he had also become corrupt in the process. He never discussed how.

He engaged the artist Arnold Friberg to do the artwork, like pictures of Lehi, Nephi, (Book of Mormon characters) etc., and he petitioned other religious organizations like the Catholics to include their art and frescos within the book, to tell the stories of the Bible.

When my father came to stay with me at a time in his older years, we discussed the event of his father's betrayal and fraud, and how he expected his father to act differently than his established behavior. Despite how disappointing it was, and how predictable this scenario might have been, a son would still feel betrayed, so he couldn't help but take his father's habits personally. My father seemed to have a deep loathing of men in general, but revered women. I didn't get to see this, as his relationship with my mother was terribly caustic and flawed.

He loved his Grandma Fleet, or Bubba Fleet as he called her, and found it an honor to accompany her to get the streetcar after her visits. I can only appreciate this softer love and influence, or my father may have been a total monster. People with a high intellectual capability tend to observe more keenly than others, and this analysis can cause despising and retribution,  based on one's background wounds, especially those of personal victimization. They have the ability to settle scores and bring justice without much feeling attached. True intelligence is using ones abilities to do good, and leave the world better than found. Arrogance, rationalization and rage create monster behaviors. Intellectual ability is only one area of intelligence, as there is emotional and spiritual intelligence.

Not until I reminded my dad of how much I had to forgive to be able to take him in now that he was old and vulnerable, did he begin to see the lesson had come full circle. Of course with vascular dementia, where the short term memory may be 30 seconds to 5 minutes, we had that discussion several times. I observed that the repetition of short term memory loss was somewhat like I'd imagine Chinese water torture to be. Perhaps it is also to indelibly remind me of these scenarios and lessons for my own life.

My father was so independent, that his social contacts with young Jewish girls whose fathers began making plans for my then-young father to marry their daughters and join them in business, created a breaking off of that relationship. Between the dirty air and water, the sinus problems my father suffered, the traumas of childhood when chased by gangs of kids that could bring pulling ones pants down to show circumcision and beating of a 'Jew', the fathers greedily eying my handsome, intelligent dad, and a host of hurtful family memories, made my father want to get as far away from Philly as he could. Thus came Reed College, on a scholarship, to get to the other coast.

He worked for an extra year after high school as a Pharmacy delivery boy to gather enough money for his other expenses, to get to college. It was this money that his father 'borrowed', and didn't pay back. Just a few short months after arriving at Reed College, World War II began, and everything was disrupted. My father was color blind, and so made oculars for the war effort. After time in Laguna Beach, mixing drinks and making barbecues for his friends, he went to Texas selling oil leases. There he met my raven-haired beautiful Welsh/English/Pennsylvania Dutch (Deutch) mother, when he went into a Phone Company to get some paper. Ten children and 22 tumultuous years later, they divorced. (He later married Sara Leonti in California, lived in Los Gatos and Palo Alto, until his health began to fail. Before my mother, he was married to Florence Blickenstaff, a nurse he met while in a hospital.) He was put on medications, too trusting of his docs, unmonitored, until it affected him by seizures, strokes and behavior issues which lost him his life-saving lunches at the local Senior Center. It was at this point that I was contacted by a brother advising me to leave him there in California to die alone, as 'he was never going to change'. I believe in honoring ones parents, and always felt a bond to my father. I was not his first choice, as I am honest and confrontive. It was indeed what he needed.

My father brought his dislike of men, his impatience for privacy invasions, a superior intellect and short term memory deficit with him. When he lost his personal Physician who had married and went on Pregnancy leave, and my own health failed me with cancer so he had to enter a care facility, the ensuing ignorance and medical abuse eventually cost him his life. He should have been able to live and die at home, in the safety of his daughter's care. The institutions make sure that this much less costly way to support our elderly is not done in this country. If a person has little money, the taxpayer will swallow that bill for monthly care, to the tune of $13,000 to $20,000 while your loved one is held without rights, decent food or proper attention and drugged into a stupor and adult diapers as there is inadequate numbers of staff. One of my father's lasting thoughts was: "But, I didn't do anything."
It was the criminalization of the poor. Unrepresented. Powerless. Uncared for.

Without any Respite Care provided for by the state, except the 96 cents an hour they paid for Relative Foster Care (full time) the system is burning out family members and advancing them closer to their own graves. This practice will perhaps take years to change, if the grip and fraud of pharmaceutical euthanasia and elder care institutions are ever properly investigated and challenged. My father's support systems were thin because of the way he lived his life, but wealthy people all over America are finding themselves with appointed Guardians and their entire life savings looted by the collusion of the judicial system. Maybe one day the American people will wake up to how they treat their elderly, how powerful the Pharmaceuticals have become to push for their profits with drugs and vaccines, and the fact that the 'them' of the elderly has become 'us'.

That story is for another day. On another blog, I wrote a little about it:
http://ladyofthelake-vernonialake.blogspot.com/2009/03/pharmaceutical-euthanasia.html



Questions? Contact us at leangreencafe@yahoo.com

I Am Bradley Manning...

Bradley Manning is a hero, who could not in good conscience cooperate with the corrupt military, and kill innocent civilians, quietly going along with war crimes, becoming complicit.

People all over the world are supporting Bradley Manning. 'I am Bradley Manning' is the movement's strongest statement. The Obama Administration has punished more Whistleblowers than any other Presidency in our history. (When I hear O complaining about the delay to adopt his appointees, that the Constitutional process should be followed, I am disgusted and humored at once. Wahhhhh. You can't have it both ways, O. Tearing up the Constitution and wanting to selectively have it honored. ???)

What are Obama and Holder and Clinton still going through the motions of office for, anyway? Get out!

Like Daniel Ellsberg in the Vietnam Era, Bradley stood up and marched forward, knowing what he had to do, so the American public knew what was going on in Iraq, and was no longer conned by the Conglomerate-One Owner US Media.



Bradley has been tortured, allowed no sun or daylight for 23 hours a day, kept in a solitary 8x6' cage, stripped each night, only allowed to stand or sit w/ feet on floor, on duty, until he looks like a ghost. The deficiency of Vitamin D is perhaps the largest indicator of coming disease and cancer for him. Additionally, the forced 'vaccinations' with their toxic adjuvants and foreign proteins if not the food, etc. will finish the job to quiet Bradley. This is all done to make him the 'example', of what will happen if you tell the truth.
He has already acted. Will you?

Visit: http://www.bradleymanning.org/




***So, in other interesting areas: why has the media covered up nuclear silos being shut down by UFO's, the goal of the World Banksters to take over each country left-Syria, Libya, Iran, etc.



It is time for the energy to change from oil to what the UFO reverse science has already given us. See YouTube for 'The Disclosure Project.'



So, who holds the schemers accountable? Russia and China are not going to allow Iran's oil and monetary system to fall. The schemers who think money and power are the reasons for life, will be the cause of WWIII if we allow it.

Like Leonard Peltier (whoops. a slip. Leonard Cohen. Peltier is just another political prisoner. Don't get me started.) sings, "It's a cold and a very broken, Hallelujah".


Questions? Contact us at leangreencafe@yahoo.com

Finally. An Admission of the World Bank Corruption and US Media owned by One Corrupt Conglomerate.

Finally...an Admission of Corruption of the World Bank, and that the US Media is owned by one Conglomerate so the American People won't be told what is going on. Watch this female attorney Whistle blower, who is being threatened with jail. Anything to shut her up. She has been working with the 50 Governors, and insists Eric Holder is going to jail.



Questions? Contact us at leangreencafe@yahoo.com