Those who forget history are destined to repeat it


The people who came on the mayflower and built Jamestown fled religious tyranny to start a country where men were free to live work and worship how they please.

We fought the British because they wanted the American colonies under British rule.

We fought sant Anna at the Alamo when Spain tried to claim Texas and California for the holy Catholic Church which in those days was ruled from Spain 

” in god we trust” was not on our money or in federal buildings until 1951 when we were told the godless commies were coming for us.

We the people went west we settled the south the Stuyvesant bought Manhattan the Louisiana purchase took the state from the church ran French 

We have built a nation of 330 plus million people that until the latest election cycle have been developing as an educated people who while being free to worship their god left others to worship whom ever they chose. 

We have long remembered that this nation was settled by all the people  as a republic free of tyranny ordained by churches.

So now it’s as if we the people by listening to trump and his gang of historically amnesiac cronies are willingly wiping the centuries of freedom from religious rule paid for by the blood of patriots. 

Are we willing to drink his koolaid ?’ to turn America back to the days of Jim Crowe  and women barefoot and pregnant? and gays are so far in the closet they need a canary to stay alive?

The “good old days”he wants us to go back to we’re lit by the burning crosses of hatred  and the misogyny of a male dominated work place and lives lived in secret. And turning the civil rights back to a time where people of color used another door and sat on the back of the bus!

Pt Barnum said “there’s one born every minute”and “never give a sucker an even break”!The only difference between Barnum and trump is the sheer number of suckers, so before you reach for another glass of his flavor of koolaid Google Jonestown they drank a madmans koolaid for a better world too.

ABC 7 Newyork were not bound to anything but your incompetence!

A month ago abc7 news with Liz cho had a story about a stolen wheelchair and they referred to the user as ” wheelchair bound” I tweeted Liz whom I follow and told her we are not bound or crippled we are “dis and otherwise abled” and we use wheelchairs were not duct taped stapled or glued to them in short do not call us bound!

She replied immediately and during the time it took  to reply they had two more stories where they again referred to us as ” bound”?

I contacted the news via Facebook twitter and called the channel itself, yet day after day after day were referred to as bound by abc7 they obviously do not consider we the disabled people as important as a juicy story about trump or Kim kardashian. If they described reversed al sharpton as ” that colored guy” hell would pay and rightfully so if they were sexist to a famous women shit would hit the fan. But if a black women is disabled and uses a wheelchair there research is so pitiful terms like “cripple,retarded ,and bound” are used without thought!

The dis and otherwise abled community have had enough, you can’t say you weren’t informed.

I have had two conversations with Liz alone and left many posts.  We don’t refer to to the news anchors as “the Asian chick with the Jewish weather guy” so how about returning the respect.

Locker room talk?

Donald trump has described his talk with billy bush as ” locker room talk” well let’s look at that

I have since I was a small child played Australian rules football 

Soccer

Lacrosse 

Judo

Taekwondo 

American football

I played lacrosse at club state and national level and judo at club regional state national and international levels I have been in hundreds of locker rooms in my life and never heard that kind of shite!


Yes they talk about their conquests but never wanting to rape someone.

And let’s disect this 

trump was on a bus owned by an entertainment gossip show 

being interviewed by a gossip reporter 

He was wearing a microphone?

What’s the number one rule of interviews? Nothing is ever off the record and the mic is always on!

Now his mail order nude model wife says the reporter egged him on ? OF COURSE HE FUCKING DID that’s what reporters do,they um and ah and laugh and say things like “wow tell me more” it’s called a fucking interview.

If he can fall for that what the hell is he going to do Dealing with Putin or AngelaMerkel,  or any other world leader?

He says the media is rigging the election? But all they’re doing is connecting the dots,he has for the last twenty years run off at the mouth about how he forces himself on women, to Howard stern to sixty minutes to Matt lauer and any other person at a bustop if they’ll listen.

He is every mothers nightmare “I love troubled teens the troubled ones are wild in bed” so now mom not only had hormonal teens and weed dealers   To worry about she has  to worry that the seventy year old running for office is hunting her too!

He rants at 3am about non existentsex tapes, spits the dummy when the most popular comedy show in the western world parodies his creepy antics.

Is this the person you want running the country? I don’t care republican or democrat just decent human being.

Now his response is “bill Clinton did bad shit”

 bill isn’t running, did anyone attack Barbara bush ? Or Nancy Reagan?

 Now their reply was ” she went after bills bimbos” OMG you mean a decent honest woman got angry and wanted revenge on the bimbos fucking her husband? Well that makes her guilty… guilty of being a hurt betrayed wife now what’s the word for that? Oh yeah HUMAN

So he has 9 women who never met each other all claiming he did exactly what he has been bragging about doing for twenty years, he says they all made it up is he a five year old whining or a presidential candidate?

If Hollywood wrote this character the show would be shelved,no one would finance the show.

If this  person applied for a job you’d never hire them 

If they dated your daughter you’d run them off 

If they  were a suspect for sex crimes you’d probably convict them

SO WHY IN THE HELL SHOULD WE ELECT THEM?

HE rabbits on about Benghazi and what happened was horrible, during the bush years there were 22 attacks on consulates.

The man buys 100 grand pianos for his trump casino 10 years ago and has never paid for them

He hires an architect for a golf course clubhouse and has to be ordered by court to pay him and to date the architect has only ever received 20%

He’s been bankrupt 6 times

Every business he started from airlines to steaks all went bankrupt 

He’s indicted by a grand jury for trump university 

He’s under investigation for the rape of a 13 year old at a party at the house of a friend who’s in prison for pedophilia.

He has refused to listen to intelligence conferences because he thinks the CIA don’t know anything

He asked three times in 90 minutes during a CIA briefing “why can’t I nuke them”

His first manager was a pr agent for Russian former KGB yet denied any connection to Russia 

Anyone of these listed above would discount anyone else from mayor let alone president irrelevant of party affiliation 

America you need to pull your heads out of your asses and put down the koolaid, I don’t care if the president is republican or democrat I just prefer he or she is not a phsycopath!

A waste of days, and wasted nights

A year ago this week my nephew was in town on leave from overseas deployment in the US MARINES, as I left my apartment in my wheelchair with Zeus the service dog on handsfree waist leash a group of local gangbanger wannabes circled around us on skateboards aiming straight at Zeus and in the melee I was thrown out of my chair slamming into a right angled steel gate post. The sharp right angled crease of the hard steel slammed my left shoulder, the impact causing a 97% tear of my rotator cuff and fractured my shoulder blade and crushed two nerves to my left bicep and right there in that moment my active productive “who the fuck is disabled not me” life screeched to a screaming fucking halt!

I wrote many times about the five month struggle to find a surgeon who gave enough of a shit about the disabled to operate, most saying they did surgery to give back quality of life and in their opinion in the case of the disabled we had none in the first place so surgery was a waste of their precious coveted hospital privileges?

On February 4th this year I had all the above repaired except when the bandages were changed the surgeon forgot to suture one of my five surgical wounds! Yes and he replied “oh shit my bad”

I was promised “3months and you’ll be better than you were pre injury” eight months later and I can barely lift 5 lbs with that arm but 150 with my other?

The other injury to my life that day that surgery can’t touch was the injuryto my soul! That morning I was s 275-280lb 6ft4 excellent disabled “adaptive ” climber who hated staying home did 10 mile rolls in my hybrid off-road wheelchair for fun and climbed rocks like a spider.

Month by month with searing pain reducing me to a power chair and being house bound and nothing but my depression daytime tv and the fridge my depression agoraphobia and waistline all held a race to see who reached maximum growth first.

It was I think a draw, in eight months I won’t answer the door unless I absolutely have to, I won’t leave the house without Ella and it’s absolutely necessary my PTSD rules both my waking and sleeping(when if ever it comes) and depression understudies for it when it doesn’t come knocking and these days I am weighing in the 350lbs and hopefully losing.

It’s a vicious circle,I can’t climb because my arm is fucked I won’t climb because I’m too fat I can’t climb because I have to leave my safe studio apartment in flushing to do it and on the days I think I might try PTSD and depression toss a coin and it doesn’t matter which wins ultimately I don’t so I toss a coin between the tv the laptop and the fridge but fuck why choose there’s room for all but if these days keep up there ever increasingly less room for me so then I worry over my waist line and that’s just one more piece of shit to totally fuck my days!

All because the ” kangbangers” (Korean teens who think they’re the bloods and the crips if they rolled on skateboards and swapped soul food for kimchee!) chose to pull there shit on me and Zeus that October day.

Yes they might have done the physical damage but they have no idea  the mental and emotional spiral it caused? I was never someone who used the wheels under my ass as an excuse but these days the cats ride my chair more than me and Zeus while still alerting to seizures is more a lap dog than active chair pulling outdoors dog he usd to be.

I hold on for my final move to New Mexico there at least even being housebound means acreage and sunshine and fresh air , the world it serms just keeps building walls between us and the move, walls that would make trump jealous.

I know things will get better I hope at least physically I should it’s just undoing the damage this year has done is harder than any route or cliff I ever climbed and as I get closer to 60 than 50 taking the weight off is so much harder than I ever remember!

So sorry for not writing for so long but the fog had to clear long enough to form a cognitive concept and even this had to done in an iPhone because my laptop got waterlogged.

Got to pick a pocket or two

 

Oliver twist by Charles dickens was always my favorite book because I lived it, as a child no one understood me and I acted out, I was being abused and couldn’t tell anyone so I acted out, my mother was a terrible mother my family sucked so I acted out, from an early age I knew I was a girl in a boy’s body living in a family who would drown me if they knew so I acted out so to the world I was uncontrollable.

In primary, what the Americans call elementary, I held the record for the most expulsions by a student in a single year it still stands. By good luck and the intervention of some loving sports coaches I survived, just barely. Then my mom was told I had one last chance or I would finish my education in juvenile detention.

I had an appointment at the local education department field office with a teacher Michael Belnap, he it seems ran a class called the alternative mode a rag tag bunch of students just like me who all acted out in their own way.  We met,he in his hawaiin shirt  and camo shorts and sneakers with tom sellecks moustache,he chatted and he asked me why I did what I did? He looked at me with eyes that could see the soul, two weeks later I was in “the huts” He it seems was a cognitive Fagan, and  we were his band of emotional pickpockets.

I was a young Oliver and through his compassion along with his sidekick Trevor brown together they took flotsam and jetsam from the education department and put together vessels worthy of the Cunard line.

Each one of us today has survived in their own way, many of us have travelled the world and many of us have floated on the sea of emotions but our north star was always one Michael belnap”belly” “jelly belly” We gathered with our Fagan in a Nissan hut not a loft of Victorian London,where we picked classes not pockets(well most of the time) and through belly’s compassion and guidance and no bullshit approach to life we made it.

That was 1979 Adelaide, fast forward to 2009 sunshine coast Queensland Australia, some tough life savers decided that my sorry ass in my wheelchair deserved to be in the water enjoying my blessed sunburnt country if only for one day. The view from a wheelchair is different you see so much that others miss and nothing was different this wondrous day. As they tipped me back to push me easier the life savers tower came into view and there was my Fagan, belly older, a little rounder the moustache still so good tom selleck would be jealous and I asked the life guard “is that mike Belnap?’ they replied “you mean belly?” I laughed and asked them to yell “do kids still call you jelly belly”? They did and he laughed and said “there’s only a small bunch of brats who call me that which one are you”?

In the next hour on that beachline in Queensland the years rolled back, the memories returned I came out to belly he said he didn’t care he only ever wanted us to be happy and we have remained in contact ever since.

A week ago belly posted he was solo sailing up the Aussie coast in his latest yacht and he has regaled us with pics and brownie his side kick from our school days even joined him, I shouldn’t call him a sidekick he worked for us just as hard as belly did but for the purpose of this story it works.

On one of today’s pics someone posted “you lead us in work and you lead us in retirement” and I thought about this, how does compassion retire? How does a man who has saved so many turn off the caring? he’s had his own struggles. His beautiful boy TY was born with down syndrome  but in typical Belnap fashion has grown to be an outstanding human and in 2010 his beloved Nancy took her last wave and didn’t surf back to shore.

I answered that post “he’s not retired just redirected” but I’m sure even now there’s someone who thanks the heavens above every day Belnap is in their life, because I know I do and someone of that caliber doesn’t know how to be any different. The saddest day I can imagine is when he takes his last set but I know the many in my life who he saved pray every day that is not for many years to come.

As I write this I am six months into recovery for shoulder reconstruction and a 97% torn rotator cuff and it only seems to be getting worse, I have been permanently disabled with wheels under my ass for almost a decade but Belnap’s influence has me tell myself every day my broken body is in a chair my brain just hitches a ride.

So just like the verse in banjo Patterson’s Clancy of the overflow where he sits in his office imagining clancy “up on the Lachlan where drovers go”, I imagine belly spinnakers set full billowing canvas and the thought of the pacific and the wind and his laugh gets me through the pain and the boredom and who knows I may get to sit in his boson’s chair again and run my toes across the surface, this time were all a little older a little grayer and if were a little wiser it’s because of the captain at the wheel.

Collection agents can screw your life even when the debts not yours!

 

On the weekend she who must be obeyed and I checked our credit scores on credit karma, Because of my lack of work due to my disability mine wasn’t great but what was surprising was there was an outstanding collection for $75 for a dr from May 2010?

Because of my childhood rape issues I can count on one hand the males of any kind I have let touch my body ever, so for there to be a claim that I owe money to a male md was something that got my interest.

I rang the collection agency, they made trump sound like Einstein  so they were no help, then I googled the doctor and found an address in Manhattan, the building was familiar I used to see a female doctor on the ground floor for a few months until she kept slipping “pray away the trans” prayer cards in with every bill.

So I rang the practice, the doctor in question left the practice in 2012 and to quote A.B. (BANJO) Patterson “they don’t know where he are” and in their 25 year history they’ve never seen me, So I asked for the practice manager he heard a rumor of los Angeles so I googled the good doctors name and LA and found him.

So I rang the doctor in LA, and after getting past his Cerberus of a nurse I told him that credit karma says I owe him $75 from May 2010, he was quiet and said “I was on sabbatical for April and May that year and saw no patients”? WTF so I rang the agency back they didn’t care they want to know when they get their money.

So my credit rating is being affected by- A bill I never incurred

  • To a doctor I never saw

At a practice I never visited

I asked both the doctor and the practice in New York if I just paid them could they contact the collection agency? and they both said without any knowledge of the account and an account number there is nothing they can do?

So I asked the collection agency what I have to do? according to them

A/I have to get affidavits from the practice and the doctor and he’s in LA stating I don’t owe the money

B/I have send notarized copies to all three credit rating agencies asking to have it removed and that normally takes up to a year, but they can also simply say no!

In the meantime that one collection is the difference between an average credit rating that would get me small lines of credit or pass real estate checks, and being told to piss off.

Check your credit ratings folks, if I an immigrant from another country can have false reports on my credit rating anyone is fair game #suckstobeme

I have become my relatives

 

When I was a kid my family already had enough members for our own basketball team and mum was pregnant. One day in a small country town called Clare my dad drove my mom to the front door of the hospital to have our sister and said “I’m out of smokes I’ll be back in a few” and till the day he died 40 years later he never came back home.

While mom was in hospital he took every stitch of furniture and clothing we had, because his girlfriend/bitch/slut/family wrecking whore needed them for her love nest?

Mum came home with 6 kids under 15, 4 0f us under 10, 2 under 5, to a housing commission home with even the kitchen sink stolen. She had no way to earn a living except her sewing  and her garden, so she got us kids in the back yard and had a game, who ever could dig over the largest patch of the green lawn in the quickest time got a prize, the prize was we got to plant seeds and seedling of vegetables.

Before mum had met my asshole of a father she was a qualified seamstress and tailor, so our front door became a revolving door. She made every wedding dress, graduation dress, party dress, bridesmaid dress in the 100 mile area of our home and we ripped up all garden and lawn and planted vegetables, strawberries and herbs.

With my sister in a stroller and me a beside her pushing an old English high wheel pram full of strawberries and veggies and herbs, she would go from pub to pub to pub at the back door because women were not allowed in the front back then and she sold her wares. A sympathetic friend who was a long haul trucker used to get her sales on his route and twice a month we would load his truck with the food we grew.

She made a livable wage, barely because their alternative was a truck that drove 200 miles round trip and they paid double for delivery.

We had relatives who knew we were broke and a few came with a “chicken they had extra” or a “lamb they killed extra” or a “side of beef they had extra” but from family that wasn’t a regular thing even though they owned and ran millions of acres of cattle and sheep properties, and we had an honorary uncle “George lowther” he was no relation he was just one of those friends of your parents who you were forced to call uncle”

Uncle George was a man mountain, 6ft 6 and 400lbs and his wife “aunty Barbara” was 4ft 10 inch and 80lbs they were hilarious when she was too much he would simply put her over his massive shoulder.

From my earliest memory aunty Barbara was sick, she always had a walker or a cane and a table with literally dozens of different medications on it, yet George despite his massive size was literally and officially as fit as a bull.

George worked at an army base as a maintenance man, and always was buying bingo tickets at the pub (in Australia you put 20cents in a machine and if the ticket spells bingo depending on the color you win from 50 cents to 100 dollars)

George always showed up at Christmas with a “turkey he won at the pub” or a Christmas ham or 10lb of sausages he was a mensch, as we say in Oz he was bloody true blue.

At his funeral we met the pub owner and the butcher and grocer he never won any of it he used to special order for as he told them “his angels in the city who were doing it hard”

But Barbara was always sick we figured she would die first, But one year George’s doctor retired and a new guy forced him on a diet and he lost 100lbs quickly and had a heart attack and died. We took over care of aunty barb and she was always sick, I used to ride over on my bike and mow her lawns and do her shopping and pick up her meds, and I used to think “I never want to be as sick her, I never want to be that house bound and reliant as others”.

I don’t know what happened to aunty barb, when I became estranged from my family she was still in an elder care village with her walker and her pills and her six dogs and two cats and four parrots.

Since 2007 I have been permanently using a wheelchair for my ability to get around, due to an inherited neurological condition complicated by a serious attempt to kill me which left me with spinal cord injury and I sit home during the day.

I used to be very active with judo and rock climbing and swimming and road racing and more in my wheelchair, until October last year when my shoulder was smashed up and in February I had reconstruction surgery.

Today as I write I am in my mid-fifties at home with two wheelchairs two canes one dog three cats and used to have two birds, I have a cupboard full of numerous drugs I must take daily and Ella does most things a healthy person would do for themselves, I have become Aunty Barbara!

The funny thing is aunty barb and Uncle George, lived basically off the grid way up in the Adelaide hills and coincidentally Ella and I are moving to a similar place shortly.

Is this what life is? As a child you’re shown what your future could be?  I feel as if I was visited by the ghosts of Christmas future as a kid and the rides to mow lawns and pick up shopping was the universes way of saying this could be you!

Aunty Barb, I believe lived to almost 100, so maybe there  is hope that Ella and I still have many years to raise hell, the difference is  we have no one on a bike to ride over its just Ella and I but then it always has been and probably always will be.

Look around at the elders you care for, look at how they live what their medical conditions are and ask yourself is that I am I being shown my life or just what it could be?

The answer is upto you!