Domestic Violence, Abuse and how it affects children.

I am in deep sorrow as I write this. My youngest sister was in need of help but help did not come soon enough. Her last visit to Pennsylvania, it was obvious she was on drugs prescription or street drugs. She went to my mother's who said to her" you no longer exist, you are not my daughter." My younger sister never went anywhere without her dog but on Labor day in September of 2016 she drove into the pathway of a Santa Fe Cargo train in a rural town in New Mexico.  It severed her spine , punctured her lungs and she died being prepared for lifeflight. There are unknown answers, did she try to beat the train, was it suicide ? I may never know the answers but her pet wasn't with her. They sent her ashes back after the autopsy and no service was held. It was like her life didn't matter or that she didn't exist. I had a difficult time with it  , somehow I couldn't bring closure. So many unanswered questions and such a violent and lonely way to pass away.
When we were children we were swimming in the river and my father wasn't in sight. We had to be all of five and nine years old. Barge sent waves which knocked my sister off the float. The waters dark and I couldn't see her or find her. I saw her hand reach out of the water and I pulled her close to me. She was horrified. We never spoke about that for years and than one day she thanked me and said you saved my life in the river and again when I needed someone. She was a handful and yes that is what family does ..reaches out to help. But this time with the train accident I felt I didn't do enough to help, that just maybe if I would have tried she wouldn't have been in New Mexico. But all in all you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. I once told her you can run the world over but you have to be able to look in the mirror and like what was looking back. She obviously had a difficult time as she searched for a life of happiness and kept turning it into her own personal hell.
I never thought I would be the "last mohican " or the last man standing. I must say it is quite difficult to see and end to all your siblings.
I think about Andrea almost on a daily basis, before the accident i would think she was having the last laugh on the beach with a umbrella drink and well it seemed wherever she went disaster followed. Maybe the journey for her had come to an abrupt end because this was her story. All I know for sure is that mental health is at an all time high and not enough is known and not enough help is out there. How many more people would seek help if they knew that there would not be a stigma , a label?
I guess sometimes tell those who need to hear it that we love them. So if anything I do hope that those who need help find it and that everyone remind themselves to say I love you to those closest to them. " I love you" three words that just might make a difference in someone's day or even more so in their life.
We all have struggles, what separates are those who now to deal with the struggle and those who don't. Every tear that falls is filled with memories, heartache, sorrow despair and the pain that comes with saying once more to a sister. Forgiveness is a healing tool not just for those who need forgiven but for ourselves, to heal and ease the mind.

...the long and winding road.

Domestic Abuse,

I find there to be Irony in the fact that people know when they are wrong and still continue on a journey of dysfunction. I really don't have memories of my mother before the age of ten. I have seen pictures of her, but I don't relate to the woman. I do remember that her eyes gave away her emotions and that when she knew it was going to be bad, she would say to my eldest sister get the children out of here they don't need to see this. I guess that is why we spent a lot of time down by the river or in the city park.

My father had tape recorded his memories as far back as the death of first child. When he passed away my sister held on to the tapes. She called me troubled and rambling. I said why would you want to listen to them, when we lived them. Let it go! She is not one to let much of anything go. My parents weren't drinkers, my mother would have a social drink maybe once a year. Her vice was condoned, it was medical prescriptions. A rather bizarre situation as my father was extremely violent with the children and my mother with him. Some kind of off the wall circle that encouraged viscous and uncontrollable behavior between them.

Looking back as an adult I now understand more about the social sins of mental health. The time in which they lived and how little is known about the deprivation of the brain and its need for a source of nutrition, health and well being.

Some stories were repeated over and over so many times, between strangers, newspapers and my father, that what we didn't witness we felt we did. Sometimes we saw the blood,sometimes not but the fall out was always there. There is no condoning such violence and as I tell my sister to let it go, I don't ask her to forget but to blow it in the wind, is to free her soul.

I am not actually sure what set it off all the episodes. There was a blend of issues, depression, health and that led to financial as well as personal problems. Suicide was an almost acceptable alternative when you didn't know what to do. My grandfather had succeeded in taking his life,my mother had made many attempts without success and following in their footsteps was my only brother who or more than once had his stomach pumped.

Noise blocking out noise, that is what allowed me to sleep, to this day I need noise to block out noise so I can rest. My father looked down on me as the weak link, I think he didn't beat me because he didn't want to. He was afraid that I would be the mouth piece that would reveal the horrid stories of abuse to children and adults alike. Literally not able to stop shaking from a very young age on, it raised a red flag, Sent to the doctors they were told to bring some kind of normalcy to the home. When all that could be done was I was sent to a private school where I spent seven years. These seven years were a time of healing and though separate much of the time from my siblings I was able to experience a world outside of the daily dysfunction.

I was certain there wasn't any good which would come from reliving the stories but as I see it, there is a certain amount of baggage that needs to be tossed out. Not only is it to help in the final healing process, but also to acknowledge and reveal the hidden secrets of an abusive family.

My mother was seventeen her father had asphyxiated himself by allowing the exhaust into the car. She never truly dealt with the death of her father. She blamed her mother for his death, because she had asked him for a divorce. Though several stories surfaced, a few that he was going deaf and his health was ill. My mother was never really clear on where he was emotionally obviously he was depressed, alone and separated from my grandmother. My mothers closeness with her father left scars on her soul.

It was world war two and many of the young girls wrote letters to the soldiers, my mother wrote to several of the men, my father would be one of them. An attractive young woman my mother dropped out of school in her senior year. She took several jobs as secretary, waitress and in a toy factory. My father had become smitten with her and as the war was coming to and end a new war one on the home front would begin.

Abuse

The will to live,

is it insanity or courage?

~

Dysfunction: all threads need to be mended, as the weave can only be strengthened when the repair is made to the family as a whole.

~

A child has very little choice... they are victims of circumstance.

~

It is true that there is a certain amount of healing

which comes with time.

~

To break the cycle of abuse everyone

has to accept their responsibility.

~

The seeds of evil sow hatred and violence, weeding

reveals the beauty of a well maintained garden.

Gene Selection

Genetic selection, what movies are made of or is it? Scientific testing has encoded the differences of DNA sequences, providing us with unique genetic maps. In genetic therapy diseases are treated by altering or replacing a defective gene. It is possible that genetic selection or genetic therapy can directly effect the future way we diagnose and treat physical and mental illness.
It is evident that there is a genetic predisposition towards violence in many individuals, if we eliminate the gene for violence can we alter the world as we know it and can we finally view a Utopia?
It has been said that there is a fine line between a genus and a insane person, would suppressing a gene also suppress creativity and intelligence? Or is it possible to eliminate the negativity without effecting individual character. There is quite a bit of research that needs to be done be for implementing changes in individuals. Yet there is concern to the misuse and abuse of such futuristic abilities. Are we using our new knowledge to prevent or to control and who decides what is acceptable?
Some say that it would be playing God, but I believe we are given the intelligence to assure that human life continues without destructive behavior. It takes one look on a clear night at the many galaxies above us to realize we have done so little to assure our place in this vast space. We are responsible to explore all the possibilities and stand united to bring peace to an unsettling world. We have a magnitude of wealth and intelligence when we decide to unite with out greed then we will explore beyond the imagination.

When the monster becomes human

Everyone wants answers for the rash of mass killings on innocent bystanders both in council meetings, shoppers, student and educators. Have we become a product of our enviroment? The more you look for answers the deeper you must dig into what we consider exceptable.
When I was small we use to have a saturday night tv show and it was about scary monsters, we didn't relate to the characters because they were obviously very fictional, yet frightening just the same. I would sit next to my elder brother and close my eyes and say "wake me up when its over." As a parent you have to be concerned with what your children are experiencing, the movies are no longer werewolves and frankenstein, they are realistic and as common looking as the neighbor next door. It has been explored that violence in this nature numbs a person and that they become almost immune to the visuals. Three movies over the last few years have I walked out on, all of them were because they had unecessary violent scenes which I did not care to view.
There is no doubt in my mind that we have a break down in our moral values. Vulgarity has become exceptable, violence necessary for a movie to get the ratings, sexuality and the marketing of our youth and exploitation in every form possible. Drugs prevalent and exceptable
are seen in the music industry, our schools, theater, parks.
In a small town drugs and parpha. were found in the local park, instead of removing the drug dealers they closed the park to the children and shut down summer park programs. As much as we want the government to stand up and do their part to combat drugs and violence, it our responsiblity as parents and neighbors that must look at the apples that are falling from our own trees.
It is true that we cannot go back in time and we cannot erase the present, this means we must build on the future. It is said that we are a me centered community, putting self before the needs of our children. What changes can we implement for the future, create more walls, build more security devices, home school our children, hide, pretend it will not happen to us?
There is no one answer, everyone must do their part to see changes in the future, doctors, teachers, students, parents, goverment, media, musicians, artist, theater,etc. We all must be responsible to create a change that will bring a form of peace to the world.

The war the we are losing is in the loss of our young to an ever changing world.

Mans Worst Enemy...

As I look back over the last forty years my greatest disappointment with the world as a whole is that as far as we have come, we have not come far at all.
We try to teach children to have respect, to not be violent and yet great nations do not have respect and continue to be violent. I don't believe that we are following some great prophecy, I think that power corrupts the intelligence of man.
It has been said many times that "History repeats itself" for that alone I am filled with great sadness. Instinct or not animals know more about the world around them then most people. I have been up at 5 am each morning and darkness is still heavy upon the hills. Yet in the black of early morn the sounds of a symphony welcome the sunrise, as the birds joyfully sing to the light of day.

In Unity we become one with nature, in battle we all fall.

House of Respect

A mix of rain and snow is falling down upon the hills, periods of calm and storm so reminded me of life. Abusive situations feed on the optimistic personality. Speaking with my eldest sisters about abusive situations and those she could not break away from her response was “I hoped things would get better.”mixed with various insecurities and fears.
The more stories I heard the more reason incompatible people stayed in situations that were not healthy.There were no number one causes, fear fell into many categories, fear of not being able to financially take care of yourself, to the ever so common stalker scenario. Laws not efficiently supporting those trying to escape domestic abuse, found many haunting stories of those beat and killed trying to escape the prison of domestic abuse. The time it takes the police to respond to a situation leaves the victim in the hands of danger one moment to long.
Still some families fought to stay together due to religion and vows. Preached many Sundays in church that a family that prays together stays together. There compiled heavily on the shoulders is another weight of guilt, adhering to vows that are some how broken along the way. My dearest friend was in a very abusive situation did she love her husband? indeed she did, though his drug addiction escalated to uncontrollable levels, the out lash of violence leaving scars upon her back ,marring her figure and her soul for life. As we spoke over the years she told me of her reach for help. She talked to her support groups , her parish priest only to be told he needs help, stand by him and support him. One violent episode to many and she found the courage to walk away. Not many women are as lucky as her to get out of such a violent situation. Many people stay and try to work it out, they do it for the church, they do it for their children, they do it out of ignorance, for whatever reasons, they thrive on a clear moment to make it through the fuzzy ones.
Courage leaves a marbled vision, the courage to stay or the courage to walk. Every families situation is very different. It is the many times that we experienced through childhood that gives us the lessons right or wrong that we adhere to in our adult life. Many are very silent and yet fall into our own code of ethics, do we walk out on a person when they are down, do we leave a ill person to tend for themselves. I think we can only help those who seek to be helped and that we should not have to be responsible for those adults who do not seek help.
Some people condone the situation they are in, it’s not as bad as it could be, it could be worse and how do I start over or do I want to?Giving young women the necessary tools of confidence to succeed in life is the first step to change.
Whether you attempt to enter a relationship or marriage, the vows should read. I shall respect my partner and recieve the same amount of respect at all times, I shall give love and recieve love and I will with you by my side build a home on the foundation of respect with the walls of love and fill it with peace, passion and joy, the harmony will provide for a roof of compassion during the difficult times.

Where trust does not exist the future of a relationship will see it's untimely demise, for no foundation can be built on soil that crumbles.

Abuse

In a domestic war, the battle is the sin and there are no winners!

Children of the World

We cannot rewrite the past,
for it is deeply ingrained in all of us.

As darkness falls and our vulnerability
glares, we have but one choice.

The light of awareness shines through
the soul, to cast a new vision.

A weeping heart, a troubled mind,
the sadness of memory and a
curtain call.

The power of nature, the seeds of hell,
not of fate, the story we tell.

Meaningless are words untold, the
power of action is what we hold.
~~~

In you I see myself, in myself I see the world.

Domestic Abuse

Domestic abuse is a revolving door...
it goes round and round.

I was entering 6th grade, it was and adjustment to a new school, but this time would be different. It was the longest period of time I would spend in one school. The following three years would give me insight and vision to the world around me.I was no longer an outsider and I didn't follow in the shadows of my sisters or family. I for the first time was bonding making friends and feeling the magic of acceptance. If there could be a calm or a sense of security this was the time, if there ever was a time.

I had made a friend with the young girl, a few doors away, she would be the longest friend of childhood, one that would be in my life for more then a couple of months. People thought we were sisters, same height, and build. Entering her life, was for me a learning experiencing, how to be a child. She taught me how to play jacks, skip rope and a game called 7 up. Her family was middle class America, two parents working, her father the friendly drunk and her mother stern and head of the family. This was my first glimpse of how other families lived, outside by own. We spent hour upon hours together.

The school we attended was a few miles away, she took the bus and I walked. Before you know it she was saving her bus money to buy hot dogs at this little hot dog shop in a not so friendly neighborhood and walking the few miles home with me each day. The friendship and the new school had become a reality escape, where I could physically get away.

I can remember my mother in a lot of ways but never sick or in bed or just laying around during the day. This one day was a exception, home from school, I found her laying in bed. I’m home, I called out! I walked up the steps and the house was quiet. My father was in the bedroom and my mother laid quiet and still. Is she ok I asked? I can’t recall his response at that moment. I walked over to her, her eyes glazed like glass and as still as the night. I tried to get her to answer me, father was rambling, not uncommon for him to go on for hours of non stop talking and yelling. I knew something was wrong and I didn’t know what,.she needs a doctor, we need to call a doctor. This I remember clearly, he said let her die! Frightened and unsure of what was going on. Can you believe that to his point I had never used a telephone, the mysterious black thing a ma jigger that was off limits to the children.

The age span had meant only two of us were left at home. Everyone who could, moved out at a very young age. My brother to the military, my eldest sister took it to the courts an fought for emancipation and gained independents at sixteen with the stipulation that she kept a full time job and continued schooling. The third born well she was the runaway and I lost track of how many times. This just left my youngest sister and I. Father wouldn’t let me leave the house, I thought if I could get to a neighbor I could have them call 911 the emergency phone number. My little sister stumbled in. Father was pacing back and forth between the rooms, yelling, I quickly I pulled her aside, you need to go to the neighbors they need to call for help. Within seconds I managed to get her out the door. The whole time mother never moved. Father was yelling, she deserves to die, It will be good to be rid of her.

The paramedics arrived quickly and took her to the hospital. Mother had seizures, and though I am not sure if she had several that day or one was coming on. We heard all the nonsense during the fighting period, but we were never respected to be confided in to what was going on. I had no real concept of their financial situation nor there medical one.

The calm was soon coming to an end, replaced with the sounds of domestic violence in action, the battles of the extreme. The first thought in the morning was how was the day going to be and who would end up killing who, the last thought at night “ Please Lord Make Them Stop”. A chill comes over me as I write, how could this violence be happening to people who proposed to love each other.

The fall from Grace..

Not one for watching television, and still you can’t get around the media circus over Britney Spears and Anna Nicole Smith. Everywhere you go grocery stores, shops etc people are talking about them. Is it that we like to point fingers at those who have more and fall from grace? The old adage” we all put our pants on one leg at a time.” or is it “curiosity killed the cat?”


Trying to get the facts for my own childhood, I glanced over a few articles my sister had saved. For my brother and sisters, life for them seem pretty perfect, at first that is. We came from what seemed from the outside a fairly average family. But life was going to take a drastic change. My mother had quite the princess lifestyle. The only little girl in a rather large extended family, she had everything she ever wanted. In the era it was unheard of supermarkets and malls, everything was little shops.My grandmother owned her own Beauty shop. Grandfather was a music professor and my great grand parents owned the groceries stores that were so common to the city. Educated an attractive her life seemed almost perfect, until that is her father took his life, her world came crashing down around her. She was daddies little girl, the stories circulating varied. Some say he couldn’t deal with the fact that he was going deaf , a musician without hearing. Others said that he didn’t deal well with my grandmother asking for a divorce in a time when divorce was uncommon and unheard of . Either way it was devastating. Unstable and not dealing well with the loss of her father, she married far to young. Even worse she married a man from the wrong side of tracks. At first family extended a hand out, and they
pulled some strings to get him employed with a great company making a very comfortable wage for the times.
New home, new husband, new life and then came four children. The stories vary to some degree depending on who your talking to. My mother went about living the lifestyle she was accustomed to, She shopped only the finest boutiques, and her children dressed in the best of clothes. It was all about image, to the outside it was perfect.There was more going on as they say “ then meets the eye.” My father became ill, not manly to be ill,he didn’t go for medical help, instead he allowed a infection to get into his blood stream, one that would nearly kill him. He didn't recuperate very quickly and didn’t get back to work. Mother went on as if nothing
happen the children in dance classes , shopping for the best , a new car, life as usual. They used what savings they had to pay the bills and as my mother said" I thought he would make it back to work sooner." It didn’t quite happen that fast, taxes , utilities and store credit cards were mounting. She picked up some work secretarial and even went into a factory for awhile. But the pressures were mounting, Dr. prescribed drugs just complicated life, uppers, downers and something in between.

I was two years old and my sisters eight , ten and my brother twelve, when my mother in a very public display attempted suicide. She broke her back and was hospitalized for quite a long time after that, my eldest sister had become really the only mother I knew, what little visions I can remember were of her pushing me in a stroller and holding me. Ah... they grew up quickly as their childhood life shattered., ridicule from other children, the struggles that came with children raising children.

My father eventually made it back to work and I remember as a adult asking why he didn’t stay working he had children that to needed to fed, he said it was difficult with the other men, his pride had gotten in the way. What did he think was going on for his own children,had he not visioned his own childrens plight, what they were enduring in school etc.

Strict he was and the house was perfect, the eldest sister worked washing clothes by hand , ironing , cooking cleaning, she became a little adult. My brother did everything possible to make a few dollars to pay the corner store grocery bill from picking up odd jobs to penny pitching. I use to love to watch him penny pitch, he became so good that he could make a few dollars in one till and that bought a lot of milk and bread.
For me many of the memories from the years of ten and under are muddled, I think I have unconsciously blocked many of the extreme and violent ones out. Occasionally a word, a place, a conversation would evoke a thought and like a flash, a chapter would open.

Can't help me for trying...

I ask not how much shall we give, but how many can we reach?

Education and opportunity and a alternative life style

are the very keys that will unlock the doors

to a better future.

Winter, I was anxious to get out and make my way into town. This day would prove to be a very awakening experience. I was fortunate to have a in-depth conversation with a Episcopalian Minster on abuse and children. The magnitude of the problem goes further then how do we help the children, as I listened, I wondered as a part of society, were we responsible for creating the next generation of dysfunctional families dependent upon the system.

Intent on understanding the degree abuse of children and the system affected our own community. I listened as story after story I heard how many took advantage and abused those who were reaching out to help. Instantly I said say no! make them work for it. He said we can’t even get them to show up and volunteer for the vouchers. Troubled I was by what I heard, it seem pretty simplistic, say no. We say no! it’s the children who suffer.

Difficult he said they will spend five dollars on a pack of cigarettes and call us and say they don’t have money for aspirin to care for their sick child. I couldn't fathom that anyone wouldn't or couldn't care for the babies they gave birth to... what am I saying, I know better different degrees of abuse, but it’s out there. I had to consider the mentality of these people, uneducated, but street wise very sophisticated in away, they have the ability to manipulation the very organization that were set up to help. Weaving there way many used their children as a way to benefit.

I thought help was construed as when an emergency occurs, health, accidents, etc. But this was different, I was getting a glimpse of a much larger picture of the issues at large. How do we weed out those who are in need and those that are living off the system? and when we do what do we do about it, as the children they still will be ones who suffer.

I thought out loudly childhood intervention, cut the problem at its roots prevent the next generation of under-educated as well, as generational abuser. Easily said then done,
but it can happen I thought. Give them a alternative to their lifestyle, outreach programs sooner, not giving up on them during school age years.. It all seems in theory to be quite plausible.

Difficult, as we know the ability of some people will never amount to high paying jobs
and can minimum wage jobs compete with the social system. Few will ever recieve jobs
with health insurance or eye care or dental, more less be able to pay for the high cost of living.
It seemed like a "catch twenty two"

I thought it must be more though, mayber it’s a pride issue, let’s instill in them a strong sense of ethics, a morale code, one that they maybe lacking in their life? I believe it’s possible. If one child is saved, if one child is able to be a viable part of the community, is that one child not worth it?

After over a hour of discussion, I saw how much more complicated and diverse the issues we are dealing with truly are. Not one title to the madness, whether we are discussing senior citizen abuse, child abuse on any other of the atrocities in the world, the answer is our youth, if we are to make a difference, any difference at all, we must start with the children, they deserve every chance possible to flourish in a more peaceful, patient world.

Perfection doesn’t exist, we are human, with human fault,

but I believe every step forward, every one child saved,

the future is altered for the better.

Someone to watch over me....

My father called it discipline, I believe he stepped over the line. Sadistic he was, as he created new ways to carry out this so called discipline. From the razor straps, to his bored holed paddle. At night time when we were all snuggled under the tic blankets that my mother made, we would talk, tell stories and yes sometimes laugh and giggle. Then the voice of thunder “did I say quiet up there?” Then we would count as we heard his foot steps one by one, they had a sound of their own, a kind of slide step, slide step. We quickly pulled the blankets over our head. He called my eldest sister first and then each of us by name, line up. Sometimes beatings seem to have no obvious reasons. He would blame us for my mothers mood swings. It was always our fault.
It wasn’t that my sisters didn’t try to get away, many times they ran away, only to be returned to receive the most outrageous punishments and whippings. I thought I was
granted this special place in the line up the fourth born in a family of five. You didn’t have to tell me twice, I became the pleaser, silent, I dared not rebel. Though it is
common in children to think of running away.
I think how far I traveled alone at such a young age. I remember this one house we lived in, it was fairly close to a television tower. I wanted to see it up close a couple city blocks and a full set of city steps away. I was seven years old and I began to walk, I can remember the unfamiliarity with this walk, but I had that tower in sight and I was determined to get there. It was such a big tower I remember thinking, must be special. Finally at the top of last city step, I looked around at a few cars parked and this huge tower, it didn’t seem so special. Nothing particular was going on. I circled it a few times and then headed back.

I will say most of life I had this feeling of wanting to runaway, until I accepted that no
matter how far you travel, you take this old heavy luggage with you. Piece by piece I
began to review, comprehend as a adult, what a child viewed and tossing out the old, and
replacing it with new memories.

Someone to watch over you..... angels appear through many a disguise.

Sarah Heinz house is a wonderful youth group for inner city children, it was created to give children a alternative to the city streets. I consider heinz house one of the first set of angels working uncover that would enter our lives. Through these doors, waited salvation, opportunity, love, respect and knowledge and for many life long friendships... One day, one year or a lifetime with this organization gifted you with the tools needed to survive. Once inside this safe haven, you had an opportunity to flourish, enjoy and by all means learn.

Silence is Golden

Recently a childhood friend had passed away. I had a special fondness for him, as I remember him always being kind. It stirred up restless memories of childhood. My eldest sister always said that we were the” boxcar kids” Children who had fallen between the cracks of society. What made us different? Well some would say we functioned fairly well in a hellish situation, so well! that no one reached out to help. Was it that we were intelligent enough to keep our grades up? attractive enough that it couldn't possibly happen to us? well dressed if you don't look like poverty then life must be fine, with no visible signs of abuse, we continued to function.
Though abuse was not uncommon to any of us,badly bruised my sisters camouflaged well with heavy wool tights. We spent as much time outdoors as possible, from local youth groups to the parks swing set. Still each day we woke in anticipation of what the day held. My mother being a very emotional soul could easily be red through the eyes. If the day were going to be calm her eyes were warm and inviting, If she was distraught then her eyes appeared like fire, not necessarily signs of fear, but loss of hope.
Nature became our best friend, we would spend summer swimming down at the river, I still have fond memories when I see soapwort growing on the edge of water ways. The river was a dangerous place and yet we made it our personal play ground.
One summer day I was approximately eight years old my little sister four years old, she and I were cooling of in the muddy green not so clear river water. We used the old intertubes as floats, ones that were from the abandon tires down by railroad tracks. We use to look forward to the boats coming by creating the closest thing to a ocean vacation we would ever get. Though the water wasn't deep in some places you could step one foot away and find the water well over your head. Without much thought we sat upon the rubber float. Suddenly the waves from the just passing coal barges moved in , the waves strong shook my little sisters body lose from the float. Without a scream she fell beneath the muddy waters. She was barely able to swim and she went under. I couldn’t see her, I panicked and my heart raced, I called out her name and her little hand reached up out of the water. I quickly leaned forward and holding the float with one hand, I reached for her pulling her closer to me. She had swallowed water she looked at me and she said you saved my life. I could see the fear in her and yet we never spoke of it from that time after. We were not necessarily close as little sisters go, we were so different, but we kept and eye out for each other. We were four very different young ladies, each securing our place in the sybling order. Dependent upon each other for our very survival.

Times were turbulent, we were with out of a place to stay. At this time our family would be split up. It was a dark and cold time in our life, nothing compared to the separation of family members that was soon thrust upon us. We dare not speak, and yet we still shared in the same pain of life.It's a bond between family members , when no voice is needed to feel the others pain. The violence that befell our family well known to the public and yet a huge secret. It was quite the silent oath, yet the skeletons were out of the closet and still we fell through the cracks. Each of us met the challenges, in the only way we knew how and for each for us that was very different. Rebellion, anger, withdrawl and silent tears.
The constant uprooting of family had me looking for some kind of stability, sometimes the moves were so close from one neighborhood to the next, to a child it was a whole another world. This house that looked like a mansion sat high on the hill, I could see it from almost every place I lived. I thought of it as a castle, as it had this huge steeple and a large ball that sat high on top of the steeple. It was my stability, something that didn’t leave me and I could relate to. It was close enough to see and yet so very far away. One day I promised myself I would drive by to get a closer look. I am not sure if it still stands, I haven’t been back to the old neighborhood in years.
My second born sister has been gone some 15 yrs now, her life was a ongoing struggle and she left this earth way to soon. I laugh when I hear tales of dysfunction , as we say we put the D in dysfunction. But that wasn’t necessarily true, we did learn how to function and survive in the most insane situations.
I have listened to many people through my recent travels,as many people speak of their lives, many quick to place blame.I never once thought to place blame for the decisions made in my life. Once my sister and I spoke as adults about childhood, She said to me what would it have been like to be born into another family. I think we might have been very different people, better or worse, is to be seen.
There is a stigma attached to seeking help. My father believed that help meant interference and unwanted interference was a unwelcome visitor. Silence is golden.......

A rainbow holds the magic of hope and dreams.... I think I have found my beginning and my....

To Accept fault is not to accept failure, but repetitious failure is a fault.
~
Cutural differences aside, I believe human emotion felt through mothers world wide are the vision of hope. For they weep the tears that nuture the seed of tomorrow.
~~
In my arms I cradle the precious gift of life,
in my dreams I hold to faith,that all
will see the value in this
walk on earth.
~
Love.... understands that jealousy, greed and hatred flourish,
the challenge is to redirect through the pages of history
and live through the words of wisdom to educate
that the beauty is only seen through the
window of the heart.

Peace

Compassion sympathizes, Empathy walks in my shoes!

There is a huge misconception that abuse and violence is linked to the ignorant and poverty stricken strain of society. This is a widely abused statement, as the traits of evil know no barriers. Religion has since the beginning of time been the aggravating circumstances of war. Believers and non believers should review, the external as well internal picture. Is it not enough to want peace, we should be setting a example of how to live peace. Anyone who has raised a child from birth to adulthood will attest that more is learned from example then ever from the voice of thunder.

We underestimate the world at large for the mass of population has always been controlled by the few. The ever advancing technology can either be used as a tool to bring the world together, or a weapon to bring disaster. Who is responsible and who stands to gain the most? We all have something to gain the most from knowledge. We as parents, teachers, friends and family are the educators of future generations . We have been granted that much power, look unto yourself and ask have I been part of the problem or part of the solution? Education, respect and love are the keys, the doorways that need to be unlocked rest within each of us.

To Accept fault is not to accept failure, but repetitious failure is a fault.

~

Cutural differences aside, I believe human emotion felt through mothers world wide are the vision of hope. For they weep the tears that nuture the seed of tomorrow.

~~

In my arms I cradle the precious gift of life,

in my dreams I hold to faith,that all

will see the value in this

walk on earth.

~

Love.... understands that jealousy, greed and hatred flourish,

the challenge is to redirect through the pages of history

and live through the words of wisdom to educate

that the beauty is only seen through the

window of the heart.

The loss of Innocents

The world's tears weep threw the eyes of a child,

for our future is tarnished at birth.