Part Two: MARIJUANA AND PUBLIC SAFETY; OR IS IT - MARIJUANA AND THE PUBLIC GOOD?

Why is it illegal to possess marijuana? Why was it  for millennia cannabis use was never once an issue? It's use is documented, though there is little recorded history verifying it's use. It's more the fact that it's extremely likely based upon what is recorded, that it was used for religious, spiritual and personal use. In an earlier post I believe I told the story of the mummy in China blonde hair and blue eyes buried with a substantial amount of what would have been highly psychotropic cannabis. Thousands of years ago. Not only was it odd that this fellow was found in China where his heritage indicates he not from there, but it also indicates that whoever buried him had respect for him, and buried him with what he wanted for the afterlife. Whether the man was seen as a shaman, or simply a great guy, obviously cannabis wasn't taboo. In fact, no historic records that I know of ever suggested a problem with cannabis use over the historic record of human existence... until 1937.

For the most part the US government has distanced itself from any regulations passed in 1937. I can get more into the details later, but essentially I believe it was Dr. Timothy Leary who took the Supreme Court to task over the constitutionality of the Marijuana Tax Act... that it was illegal to possess marijuana, so one could not buy a tax stamp as that would make an individual guilty of of crime. The Supreme Court agreed, and in place of the Tax Act new legislation was passed in the form of the:

Comprehensive Drug Abuse Prevention and Control Act of 1970 CDAPCA of 1970 - WIKIPEDIA 

This rewrote the laws and regulations for possession of "controlled substances".

The question is, what is the rationale behind the rewritten and current laws, as it applies to cannabis?

Having come of age in the mid-1970's it's my opinion the CDAPCA of 1970 was in response to the use of "drugs" in the 1960's, the governments growing concern that control of recreational substances was not only a potential safety issue, but a threat to it's control over what was acceptable with regards to recreational drugs; by all practical reasoning, there was one recreational drug that was acceptable - alcohol products. By revamping the outdated and in the case of cannabis, the clearly unconstitutional issues, regulations were redesigned for the most part to ensure "Public Safety". By the mid-1970's the question of public safety was at the forefront of many American's minds... it was the Boomer Generation that was questioning "authority" in a big way.

Reefer Madness the "killer of youth" horror flickolography from the 1930's, was a joke... everyone - or nearly everyone knew it. Yet they had to wonder - time and again, seeing friends busted for a joint, spending time in jail, the big "why"? Why was the federal and state governments still pretending that cannabis was the "killer of youth", when it obviously wasn't. Then, in 1977, President Jimmy Carter legalized cannabis/marijuana, as current law was far more severe and detrimental that actual use of that drug in his and the opinion of many notable scholars and scientists. It looked for a moment that common-sense and rationality in government was a real thing. He also legalized home-brewed beer and wine... which by a mistake had never been legalized when alcohol prohibition ended. As a result micro-brewers sprung up everywhere and infused the beer industry with much needed competition.

It was a short blur of a few days before an out-cry and clamp-down on cannabis legalization was issued from other powerful government entities. And Cannabis, unfortunately, was still illegal, and the whole notion of it being a "stepping-stone" to hard drugs, and restrictions on research began to take on a new life. The "War on Drugs" was born.

Then came the early 80's and 1ST Lady Nancy Reagan's famous mantra - "Just Say No", and the birth of D.A.R.E (Drug Awareness Resistance Education).

Society as a whole had no choice then but to embrace the "fact" that marijuana was bad, as bad if not worst that harder drugs. A common phrase sprang up that "we already have enough problems with alcohol" was heard to justify continued anti-drug actions.

Front stage a different show was being performed... use of prescription drugs veered into abuse, alcohol use continued to be the primary cause of vehicular deaths, domestic abuse and violence, and use of "alternative drugs" like glues, aerosols, choking games, etc. became more common.

My argument is that cannabis prohibition became more a regulation towards "PUBLIC GOOD", and less a public safety issue. The Emperor Wear's No Clothes the title of a book by Jack Herer, LINK HERE: JACK HERER - clearly underlines to likelihood that "government knows current laws targeting marijuana are quite excessive, yet to back down and admit it, correct the mistake, it would mean denouncing 60+ years of propaganda by the government. That's why President Jimmy Carter failed - his intentions were genuine, but he didn't see the forest through the trees.

Advance to 2010...

California citizens are at the forefront of a move to legalize cannabis. Already it is pretty apparent that the "liberal state" has a majority of citizens who favor legalization. It is however somewhat disappointing that bad economic times has brought people out of the closet regarding cannabis. Encouraging as they are willing to speak up. But to be truthful, it was pretty much the same when alcohol prohibition ended... bad economic times seems to encourage rethinking societal norms. And the 18th Amendment only made the whole alcohol problem that much worse. From the beginning, public safety issues regarding the unpleasant consequences of alcohol abuse and violence, led to "Prohibition". It had been brewing since the 1830's, this idea to outlaw alcohol use, and for good reason. It seemed to bring out the worst in people, spouses, etc., Alcohol use became synonymous to violet, stupid behavior.

In the end, the adoption of the 18th amendment was a matter more of Public Good, than Public Safety. Politically what was a public safety concern became a political concern, but in order to make such a revolutionary change to human behavior ultimately morphed into a PUBLIC GOOD campaign.

Cannabis use is also about the "public good", as it's pretty obvious cannabis use is not extremely or even generally harmful.

We do have experiences like in my last post under this title: I wrote about the "Pentagon Shooter", John Patrick Bedell. And John allegedly used a lot of marijuana. SOURCE: MSNBC

It's the scary stuff we'd expect... especially the caption to Bedell's picture at the link I provided: "A psychiatrist says John Patrick Bedell tried to self-medicate his bipolar illness with marijuana, inadvertently making his symptoms more pronounced." 




Bad apples grow on apple-trees... but that doesn't mean you chop down the tree because of one bad apple. 

Next ... the lengths to which government will go to enforce the ideal of PUBLIC GOOD... 

Part One: MARIJUANA AND PUBLIC SAFETY; OR IS IT - MARIJUANA AND THE PUBLIC GOOD?

I've discovered information that laws enabling marijuana prohibition may be related more towards manipulating "Public Good", rather than "Public Safety". There is a difference, and the difference comes down to the government protecting us or controlling our behavior. In my next two or three posts I will do my best to show the difference between the two, and how laws are enacted to enforce and protect.

I want to begin with recent news of "the Pentagon Shooter", John Patrick Bedell, a 36 year old man with long-term mental challenges; family and doctors allegedly  were concerned that John had serious marijuana addiction problems, in addition to all else going on in his life. The story, from MSNBC is here: PENTAGON SHOOTER - MSNBC

Before being killed by Pentagon security officers, the shooter shot and wounded two other officers, who are expected to recover. He apparently arrived at the Pentagon well dressed, and seemingly harmless. But according to the article noted previously, he have been acting strangely prior to the attack. What I find odd is a traffic stop noted in Amarillo TX, a few days prior, where the suspect was speeding and pulled over by a police officer. The suspect was described as "acting strangely", and the officer allegedly was compelled to call the mother of the 36 year old man on John's cell-phone. The mother allegedly told the officer her son was fine, and the officer is reported to have given John a warning, and let him go on his way.

Other events noted are a time when John P. Bedell was noticed "walking along a dirt road",,, by police, who stopped and questioned him.

Those two incidences are vastly different, and raise some concerns in my mind. In the first instance, why is a police officer using a citizen's cell-phone to call a 36 year old man's mother, to "check-up" on the man in any way? The man was speeding... seems to me the call to the parent was odd and unnecessary.  The speeder wasn't even in his home area when this happened. To me it was the officers responsibility to establish if the suspect had warranted a speeding violation, and if he was a menace to public safety. A call to a mother hardly seems appropriate in established a 36 year old man's psychological state of being. If the officer had doubts, there are professional ways to accomplish this task. If the officer searched the vehicle or the man is not known... so there's no information available as to whether the man had a gun, drugs, or other questionable objects of concern.

With regards to Mr. Bedell being questioned by officers while walking alone along a dirt road... guess I'll think twice about walking alone along a dirt road, which is what I happen to live on. If I am walking along a dirt road, generally it's to get some exercise and enjoy nature. And to think. To be detained by police officers and questioned during such a walk I would be quite annoyed. It is not against the law to walk along the road in such a case, and although officers apparently have the "right" to do so, I find it offensive and inappropriate. So in John Bedell's case, I'd need more information, but given what I've learned, it appears to be information both irrelevant and twisted to serve as a contrived example about how loners are questionable people, and subject to questioning.

As I said before... if I'm walking along a dirt road alone, it would be most intrusive to be stopped by law enforcement and questioned. In such a case, I literally would tell them "arrest me for walking on this road or go away". I have a right to privacy, even walking along a road - common sense, isn't it?

But John Bedell did have problems. And the one problem he allegedly had was an "addiction to marijuana". We'll never know whether marijuana played a part in John's ultimate confrontation at the Pentagon, but no doubt, if it's true John had a "severe addiction to marijuana", it was in his system, and with recent research indicating log-term use of marijuana can cause psychosis", one must question what role marijuana played in the planning and lead up to the shootings.

Mr. Bedell also was convinced of a "conspiracy" by the US government for the 9/11 attack that killed 3000 persons in the twin towers, NYC. It's not an uncommon idea, this conspiracy theory, but as much as I can stretch my imagination to see it, I don't. Makes for great fiction, I suppose, but the problem is the government is not a fixed entity, nor is it omnipotent body with unlimited powers. Sure, it's not perfect, and it most definitely should be smaller in it's scope, and there are scandals and irrational regulations that come out of our governments, but all in all, they are people WE the People elect, and not only do they have current affairs to consider, but also past affairs. Conspiracy theories are to be expected, I think, and some are probably true, but many we have no idea whether they're true or not, like the Kennedy assasinations, both JFK and his brother Bobby.

It's a fact that the Roman Emperor Caesar was murdered as part of a conspiracy; that President Nixon was caught lying and Watergate happened... fact is a conspiracy can involve one person, or many. And our government is composed of many people, so the likelihood of there being "conspiracies" is quite believable.

The question is, should average citizens believe in gov't conspiracies to the point where they take matters into their own hands, and cause potential harm to the government?

No.

Should we voice our opinions online and to others - most definitely. In many recent cases of violence investigators found online activity and posts referring to distrust of the government, conspiracy theories, anger and hostility to other persons or groups. This should not come as a surprise... nor should it deter individuals from expressing themselves and their ideas. If it meant so, then I should remove my blog and move to the North Pole. We do have a right to free speech - to question authority. We have the right to seek out others like ourselves, and to take advantage of the power of numbers. We do not have the moral or legal right to hurt others, however. And that is the boundary between free speech and expression and actions.

Whether or not John Bedell's "addiction" to marijuana played a part in the shootings at the Pentagon, is relatively easy to estimate, given that John crossed the moral line to hurt others, for a cause he felt justified, is, does boil down to his use of force. His use of force in this and many other cases is unjustified. He meant to harm others to push his cause... that is morally wrong.

That marijuana was involved, is mostly one fact, considering a recent news article suggested that 198 million people use or have used marijuana in the past. If that number were correct, and marijuana psychosis related crimes were identified as a primary cause of crimes that directly cause harm to other human beings, that would be a serious issue. But the fact is, very few marijuana related violations relating to human suffering and death are documented. More violent crimes occur under the influence of alcohol. And many preventable deaths occur due to tobacco use.

Marijuana is not a perfect drug, it is not devoid of consequences. But compare to harder drugs, alcohol and tobacco included, or even person's who do not use drugs, the majority of crimes resulting in human suffering and death do not include use of cannabis. Plenty of statistics support this fact - and if you insist I'm provide them.

John  Patrick Bedell did have reported psychological problems... and he most likely would have benefited from therapy, or more intensive care. To suggest the idea that his marijuana use played an important part in his acts, the attack on the Pentagon, is unsubstantiated and if not considered within as only part of the whole picture, inflammatory. That John could have benefited from enhanced psychology, is probably the most apparent factor. But there is a stigma attached to that kind of help... and many avoid it at all cost.

To a person like myself it's not an issue. My parents, naturally believed only "sick people" got counselling, went to a mental health professional. Both my parents would have benefited from the reality that therapy doesn't mean "you're a sick person".

After I was employed by a college, and counselling was a benefit, I walked right in. It was the 70's remember, and many self-help books and new age organizations were popping up all over. Seemed like everyone had a therapist, so it was a big deal using my benefit to talk with the college counselor... ... talking about my issues, and I had plenty - I believe I was around age 20. The experience then and over the years was always the same... it was confidential, it helped me understand myself, and it helped me decide on issues in my life that were causing considerable distress. The ironic part is how I would often go to my therapy sessions believing I was deeply flawed, only to discover once again that, I was okay, that outside events happen all the time; conspiracy theories come and go, that reality is subjective and therefor one needs to understander that one's reality is unique, and self-conceptualized.

John Bedell drove thousands of miles to the Pentagon, open fire on staff for reasons of his own. What influenced him were unlimited past events, use of marijuana being one of those influences.  We will never know what exactly was going on in his mind, what we do know is his reality lacked one basic moral: "Do Not Hurt Others".

It may be that people today are less likely to seek out mental health help. The stigma of those seeking therapy still has it's hooks... and in a conservation era, no one wants hooks. To me, that would be a sad thing. Therapy with a psychologist or psychiatrist is not an admittance of sickness, nor of a crime.  I personally saw a therapist for almost 30 years - different ones, and eventually I learned enough about myself that I was able to understand the reality and myself in a way that i felt I have control of who I am.

As a result I am able to help myself weather the storms, take advantage of the good days, and let the bad days go. I'm able to chose my battles, to understand feelings that may seem unfair, accept my own uniqueness, as well as the uniqueness of others... I have accomplished my goal set many years ago... to be my own agent.

The economy is discouraging, the jobs market more so. Feeling like a victim is easy... but being an agent I realize doing nothing and keeping my current full-time job is the prudent thing to do. It's not easy... but the future will change, and I will change with it.

To get back to the title of this post, "marijuana and public safety..." I read recently there are 198 million marijuana users in the world... that includes one time users and regular users. I have to laugh at that number. Over the years I was fortunate to have jobs in colleges and public schools where I was known as the guy you could trust, and you could. I came to know so many people... four out of 10 used pot every week or every day. Another two of ten used occasionally. Finally, four out of ten may have tried it once, but never again. Of the 6 out of ten that used it more than once, one out of ten would never, ever admit it. There are friends I know that won't follow my blog because I have a simulated marijuana leaf in my introduction. So if we add to the 198 million the people who would never admit it, we have 990,000,000 people who use it around the world.

In my next post, how current prohibition against cannabis is more an effort at enforcing Public Good, rather than Public Safety.

THE LONGEST ROAD - PART IV - ORIGIN

The origin of the title... a short post.

John was home one night, in his early 50's, when he got a unexpected call from his mother.

John was in the middle of an online Texas Hold'em game - which he lost as he was dutifully bound, after all these years to talk to his mother, so lost his concentration, and there is no such thing as "I'll call you back in a few...".

The conversation was going along okay, until his mother made the statement that any problems he had were his own doing... he "took the long road in life". John argued that he "took the road less traveled", but then his mother knew nothing about that. Essentially, she made it clear she had tried to help him take the "short road", the "only road", in life. The road to marriage, a house, a good job, and zero risk, so to speak. Yes... John had screwed himself not taking the ONLY ROAD in life! The fool that he was... he took the Long road.

"The road less traveled..."

So much for education and learning, John thought.

And imaginative thinking. Come to think about it... given the constant news from gov't reformists, the marijuana John had smoked for years obviously created a psychosis... that John was someone, when it was clear, taking the "long road" made him a loser. It didn't matter his experiences, his job-skills, his knowledge...

All John could think about was a famous quote by Henry Miller, the author of "Tropic of Cancer"... banned until the early 60's and traded and sold in brown paper bags. Miller vs. (some gov't entity)... he won, but John lost. The quote: "Guilty Your Honor"... of living, being lawful in all ways other than use of marijuana. Take my brain, put it in a blender, and show that I suffered serious brain damage.

John, took the "Longest Road".

A caution to all the rest of you Bohemian types out there... change your ways before it's too late. And "never go straight, please, go progressively forwards".

RAPE, DRUGS, ROCK 'N ROLL - WARNING: THIS IS NOT JUSTICE!!!

On my commute home this past Friday, once again NPR (National Public Radio) provided a story with chilling effect! Having a lot of experience on college campuses, both as a student and an employee, I found this topic of rape and justice to be most disturbing. The story is here:

Campus Rape and the Law

Our legal system is flawed. When I say that, and maybe you didn't quite hear what I said, what I said was - "OUR LEGAL SYSTEM IS FLAWED!"

Lady Justice is holding a scale that's tilted... why?

The story on NPR was about a young college student, female, who had a bit too much to drink one night. She stumbled home to her dorm, went to her room... as the story goes, a male living nearby, followed her into her room. He admits to having sex with her, the problem is the female student says she said "no". He claims it was consensual. She claimed it was rape. The university  sees it as a "learning experience"; our criminal justice system sees it as a crime, a serious crime.

Essentially no criminal justice system policies cover campus rape. The man was not arrested. He did not go to court and face any charges, didn't have to hire an attorney, and basically, was "sentenced by the university" to take the summer off - as a suspension/punishment.

How can this be???

Rape is tolerated as a learning experience, according to the article on NPR.
"On a college campus, this isn't a formal legal process like a court of law. Instead it fell to two campus administrators to sort out the truth, simply by asking the accused and the accuser for their sides of the story" NPR Source: Rape On College Campus

In my own experience while employed once at a college, and another time a public school, I witnessed first hand the way the laws are enforced. In 1976 I caught two youths while they were stealing electronics and other college equipment around midnight... I called the police who arrived finding their car full of stolen goods. The college gave me a commendation, and didn't press charges on the youths.

In the second case, early 1990's, I witnessed two youths suspiciously eying the grade school I worked at. I pointed the peculiar  pair out to my co-worker. We called the police. We told them we were concerned the pair had plans for later that night - which they did... they broke in and destroyed thousands of dollars worth of public property. The youths were caught, but the district didn't press any charges. Neither the school officials or police talked to my co-worker or myself about it.  It was swept under the carpet. Forgotten.

On the other hand, students found possessing drugs like marijuana, are subject to permanent expulsion, and serious criminal charges.

This is JUSTICE???

Well, find me another world to live in, please.

Our country is in crisis, and the emperors have no idea what's going on. Well, I'll tell you what's going on... INJUSTICE. Our laws need reform, big time, and until such time as that happens we will continue to see injustice and infringement on our personal liberties. A person has the right to say no to sex, and yes maybe  to marijuana, or vice versa... both are natural... both should be a choice under our system of right and wrong. What hurts society is when laws enable people to be hurt. Our laws enable that. Wake up!

THE LONGEST ROAD - PART THREE - John Miller Fictional Autobiography

John Miller had told the story so many times, to so many people, each time, trying to express in the way it really happened, really felt. He didn't want sympathy, he did want understanding, but he didn't want to even have the story... if he could cut away a piece of his mind and rid himself of it - if he could retain the parts that meant so much to him... if he could live it over... if...

If things had worked out the way he was working them out - he was convinced he would be a happy, successful person now. But he had to admit - life has a way of throwing curve balls, life is difficult... and his mentor Douglas S. had warned him about the consequences of success, how there would be those to dislike him, envy him, challenge him. John understood all that, and he took most of the challenges in stride. But there was a challenge that hit him that he never saw coming, that he had no real defense against. And in the end it defeated him... in the end it was like the following story John had read in the 70's... a story that would haunt him the rest of his life. A story that paralleled his own life in a way he never could explain.

"FLOWERS FOR ALGERNON" by Daniel Keyes (Short Story; Novel: 1958; 1959;1966)

Excerpt from Wikipedia: Flowers_for_Algernon
"The ideas for Flowers for Algernon developed over a period of 14 years and were inspired by numerous different events in Keyes' life, starting in 1945 with Keyes' personal conflict with his parents who were pushing him through a pre-medical education in spite of his own desire to pursue a writing career. Keyes felt that his education was driving a wedge between him and his parents... "




When John was a young boy he enjoyed playing with his younger sister and her friends. He was and still is close with his sister. But early on his mother was afraid John would become gay if he continued to play with girls, and so forbid him around age 7 of being with his sister and his friends. She attempted to "match him up with male friends", an effort that was futile. John might be forbidden from hanging out with girls, but when it came to friends he had a mind of his own. He did make friends with other males, was the obvious underdog most of the time, but he survived.


At age 8 he was given a book called "R Is For Rocket" by Ray Bradbury... there was a story he read called "Frost and Fire", about a kid who grew up on the planet Mercury, the descendants of a marooned Earth colony that made their homes in caves. Over the decades, they had adapted to a few hours each day to venture outside... given the harsh hot sun during the day, and icey cold temperatures at night. They also evolved into a race of humans whose metabolism ran it's life over a period of 7 or 10 days. It depended upon the cave you were born in. The valley people lived 7 days, the hill people 10. In his 7 days of life the character named SIM was to grow into an adult in 3 days, have children, watch his parents die by age 5, and grow old within seven days. But Sim had heard two rumors... one was that the Hill people lived 10 days, rather than seven. And that there were "scientists" living deep within the caves looking for a "solution", with knowledge that salvation was a few miles away on a mountaintop... where the seeds that brought them to Mercury sat. With the short time Sim had in life to make decisions, he went against his parent's demands, and went deep into the caves to find the scientists. 


The story stayed with John many years, seemingly innocuous. Just like Sim, John pretty much lived his first 18 years in ignorance to the facts of life. He lived in lockstep with what he was told... he didn't question authority.


His sister - a year and a half younger, he looked out for her... it was only rational that he panic when he found out for the first time that his sister was using marijuana. In anger he stormed into her room and confronted her... he picked up the phone to call the police... he knew very well the dangers of marijuana use - the madness that came from using the drug!


John couldn't remember how old he was when that happened, he just remembers putting down the phone and walking away. He couldn't turn his sister in, and began to wonder how he could have considered it? But marijuana was a bad thing, he reasoned. Yet there was something to give him pause... something that day he stopped to question... only he wasn't yet there to the event that would change his life. It was a change he had no way to foresee, any more than the character in the story "Flower's for Algernon" could have seen it.


As John rolled over between 18 and 21 years old, he did three important things, events. He moved away from home to an apartment near a college campus. He lost his virginity not to his girlfriend he'd been with over two years, but rather to a woman he met only once at a state park. And three... he got high on marijuana... the latter event would change his life the most. 


It was, in the only way John can describe it, Divine Intervention. He couldn't use that term nonchalantly, yet he couldn't explain the awakening that followed the event either. He could rationalize that he'd had a form of autism that at the time couldn't have been identified. He could entertain thoughts that he was mad, insane, sick... at least that's what the moral majority would say. But John has his say... and what he says happened was a miracle... a once in a lifetime opportunity... 


To be continued... 

THE LONGEST ROAD - PART TWO

It was true... John had thought long and hard on graduation, about how well he knew his fellow students, and realized he felt nothing, and no interest in participating. It was becoming a familiar theme to him... not joining groups. He just didn't fit in. He knew that.

His parents expected him to go to graduation, he knew that. The fact he had to go to graduation made it repulsive. His yearbook was filled with "best wishes"... and he liked some of the women, had the normal fantasies, although what few attempts he'd made to date, ask them out only made him feel worse. So John said "no", to the biggest event in one's youth. He spent his time in his upstairs lab, where he had his chemical laboratory, which back in 1972 wasn't unusual... nerdy, but chemical supply houses dealt with lots of amateur chemists. John also had a complete electronics lab... what did he need people for?

Then there was the draft... it was the spring of1972, the Viet Nam War was going strong, although there was talk of "ending the war". But there'd been talk of ending it for years, and it was obviously hopeless - the politicians couldn't do the right thing, and find a way to end it. Back then there was a draft... a draft-lottery, and he'd had the unfortunate luck of drawing a very low number - in the teens, which meant, come the fall after he turned 18 he'd be be going to that war. Those friends he had, of course they all drew high numbers, so wouldn't go. Just his luck.

The summer of 1972 was a blur. He had a job, at a discount department store... he worked evenings, went full time to school. He dated a woman with dark hair, a very attractive slender figure, that was the cousin of a co-worker of his. John got together with her on the weekends usually. Yet years later there was little to remember about what they had done together. He remembers only the time they spent on her couch, kissing, laying on top of each other. But she wouldn't "french-kiss"... and John really wanted to experience it with her. "Due to a past relationship", she'd said, a guy who she'd been seeing and had dumped her, "no french-kissing". What's worse, laying there on the couch with this vital, attractive woman,  he could feel all her firmness and softness through her sweater, but no skin. He tried, for 3 years he'd tried...

He had a 1969 Ford Mustang then, with a V8-289ci engine - one of the best Ford engines ever made. He loved that car... his father had helped him pick it out, get him his first loan, and it had a 3-speed standard transmission. Chrome wheel's and lettered tires, hood-locks and fog lights. He loved that car... even was able to go off road with it the engine had so much power and torque. He thought he loved his girlfriend too... but at that age had no idea what he was suppose to do? The road-map he'd grown up with suggested he was suppose to ask her to marry him... and then they'd be french-kissing. As naive as he was, and he was plenty naive, that just didn't seem like a good idea.

On John's 18th birthday he had plenty to celebrate! The draft had actually ended August 31, 1972... it had come about completely unexpectedly. Ahhh, what a sign of relief that was! He'd had to consider things prior to that declaration like moving to Canada, cutting off a finger or toe - saying he was gay; well, that wouldn't fly - back then better to cut off a finger than say one was "gay". But now, he was free.... he didn't need to worry about the draft, or the war. Of course he was to begin college. He wasn't sure he wanted to do that. A break would have been nice... but it was expected, and his parents were paying for him to go.

But in 1972, John was also able to legally drink alcohol at age 18. Most states at that time were the same. He remembers spending his 18th birthday in a bar, alone. Yes he was still seeing that attractive brunette... and where she was that night will forever be a mystery. They still saw each other for at least another fun-filled year, but this night that John turned 18... he did it with the bar tender and other strangers there. The important thing was, he was now an adult.

He left the bar that night with one 8oz. beer for the next night, to drink at home after work. The 8 oz beer in a can back then were called "pony-beers", half the size of a regular can of beer.

John is looking back... in fact, this story is all about him "looking back". Growing up, it was no surprise that John would look forwards to finishing high school, turning 18, becoming an adult. But what he had at 18 wasn't much the way he figured it. He'd read a lot of books, managed a C average, enjoyed science classes, but had spent the majority of his time dreading school, fearing the constant bullying, and other than an "intense one week going steady with a girl in 8th grade", he knew nothing about male-female relationships. The next "step" after college was to get a good job, get married, buy a house and have children - for his mother who wanted grand-children. That was his road in life. That was the only road... and although he questioned it - there were no alternatives.

He opened that "pony-beer" after work that night while watching Star Trek... the original Star Trek. He sat in the family room on the couch with his beer and potato chips. All was going well, until his mother entered, saw him drinking a beer and told him in no uncertain terms she would tolerate No Drinking, despite being of legal age to drink. Not like they didn't drink their Manhattans! He tried to remind her that the family rule was "...if it was legal it was okay". That's the rule they lived by, or that's what he'd always been told. But she would have none of it. She made him dump the remaining 4 oz. of beer, and he vowed he'd move out as soon as possible after that.

Next time - Divine Intervention...

THE LONGEST ROAD...PART ONE - a John Miller Story - Fictional; based on True Experience

John Miller woke up to the Friday morning he'd thought would never happen. HS graduation! He was 17, and he not only couldn't endure another regimented day, but he had ideas. Ideas that really made no sense. Ideas that encouraged him to find his own way...  It was an idea he often discarded. But it didn't matter, not anymore.

None of it mattered... he realized... within a week he'd graduate. It'd all be behind him, and in the fall, he'd turn 18, he could drink, beer, he was an adult.

Today would be the rehearsals, a school assembly in the auditorium... followed by special guest appearances...

Graduation...

One of the last rides on the school-bus he had to tolerate, and the shuffle by many to run through the doors. Like they had that much desire to get to homeroom? Then the school arranged a couple actual classes to remind us children we were still in school.

The rehearsal assembly, there were two things that stood out in his mind. The first was how he felt so out of place. He was herded in with the rest of his classmates, but it all started to look not right. A thought he put aside, as he had for years... many thoughts. Now he had two new impressions - one's that would stay with him for life:

They had gotten the class president to do the honors... he gave a speech, told a couple jokes, and suddenly onto the stage the school custodian walks on. His name is Elmer, middle aged... what happens becomes a blur for John, as Elmer is booed off the stage... though he didn't do anything wrong. It was his job. No one became a janitor! No one.

And the second thing?

A "special guest speaker"... a man from NYC... a "junkie"... "started with marijuana and naturally needed harder drugs until he got hooked on heroin. The day that changed his life was atop an apartment house in the Bronx, injecting heroin, several needle in his hand, and the police raiding the scene. He told how to avoid arrest he'd had to swallow all those needles.

Based on everything else John knew about drugs, that pretty much settled, then in 1972. No way would he succumb to the madness of drugs.

John was raised to know... "marijuana was bad, very bad". He even had a cousin twice removed who'd done marijuana an leaped out a window.

John never made graduation... the assembly was required, graduation wasn't.

VICTIM'S ADVOCATE - Part Four

In my last post I discussed - "Victims and Agents". I did so rather briefly, considering the scope of the subject. In most cases we have more than one, or two choices... and quite obviously doing nothing is always a choice. So that makes three choices we have, in general, when confronted by life and all it's opportunities and surprises. And tragedies...

It's the internet that changed things for me, and many others - for good and bad... it is the internet which is why I'm here, to state the obvious. What isn't obvious is what things were like prior to the internet. I came of age in 1974... it wasn't until 1992 that I had access to a computer, and the internet. Prior to that, I may have written editorials for newspapers, but I didn't. I find it ironic that within my lifetime I am given the opportunity the WWW has given to me. Ironic in the sense it's frightening... because never before in human history has communication on such an immediate and world-wide scale existed. Yet now it does.

In this, what is probably my conclusion for this series, I wanted to describe some of my own personal experiences as well as tragic cases I followed in the past that led up to my involvement in two real-life cases as a "victim's advocate".

1) ~1964: I was with my family - sister and parents in San Francisco. My father was there on an all expense paid convention. I've mentioned this before, so to make a long story short, I was 8 years old and i left a dept store, thinking my parents had gone back to our hotel... an 8yo walking alone on the streets of SF. I bumped into a guy dressed in a black trench-coat... he showed me a badge that said he was "secret service"... since I was lost, I trusted him, and he got me to my hotel. It just so happened there was a convention of Supreme Court Justices also. So he really was SS.

2) ~1968: HS was rough on me - I was an easy target for bullies. To help boost my confidence my parents thought karate classes would help. I had just earned my yellow belt, and soon after a class i was downtown waiting for the city-bus. A man asked me if I could use to make some money helping him move into his apartment - at the Boy's Club. Full of Confidence and totally nieve I said sure... I walked up the street with the guy bragging about my karate skills... ended up in a one room room, to have him lock the door behind us. There was nothing to "move"... but during the walk he's admitted to working as a counselor at my town's public beach, and with children. I rushed out with an excuse to leave, unlocked his door and entered a corridor with identical looking doors. I had no idea which door was the stairwell!!! I found it, my heart pounding... and made it home. When I told my parents they didn't believe me. It was 1968 afterall.

3) ~1982: I was living in a rooming house in the Boston MA area... I was a recent resident... a small town guy in a big city. I was so lonely... drank a lot. One night, quite unexpectedly I bumped into a fellow rooming house roomy... seemed decent enough and he said, "hey, want to go to the Chelsea strip club, have a few beers - I'll drive", and I said "sure", scared of nothing. I got in his car and we started driving... it seemed odd the way we were going to Chelsea, but I was busy talking too. Suddenly, and it was sudden, we were driving through the area in Boston where I90 turnpike starts - I forget the name of the area, but it was downtown Boston, and suddenly a half a dozen or more Boston police cruisers converged on the car I was in. We were at the side of the road in less than 10 seconds, the guy driving, that i was with was ordered out of the car, the 38 cal hand-gun stuffed into the back of his jeans was removed, and I was told by the police to "leave".

Yes, I had met my first serial killer and I had been his likely target. No drugs were involved - unless my being intoxicated counts as a drug.

It took me several years to shake off the fear that event caused me...

As far as those victims stories I found that further encouraged me:


1) Martha Moxley: Wikipedia Link ... October 30, 1975 - she was 15 years old. Murdered in her back-yark... her neighbor was convicted many years later for her death. I read: Mark Fuhrman's 1998 book, Murder in Greenwich. 


2)The Butts family Murders: Butt's Family Murders ; Gerri Faye Butts, 29, and her daughters, Jessica, 11, and MacKenzie, 3. Ironically this case which I could only read about and do nothing, ultimately led to a friendship with Glen, one of the Texarkana investigative officers... whom I met while helping in the Brianna Maitland case. He is now a prominent criminal profiler and works for the US military.


3) Dru Sjodin - 2003: Dru Sjodin - this is the first case I felt I was "involved in... she was missing for almost a year... it was widely publicized. You might say I had a feverish need to help... and with Google Earth and all I succumbed to a form of assistance that has a name, and has actually been researched by the US ARMY - it's called "remote viewing", a psychological ability to see things from afar. Admittedly, i was no help, although I e-mailed in my ideas. I never did hear from anyone, and they did find Dru. It was extremely tragic, and a short time later... I read where two persons within hours of me had disappeared.

I ask myself now, as I did then... why get involved? I was fortunate to hear Pres. George H.W. Bush say at a college... "it's okay" to want to help those less fortunate than ourselves, victims... even though there's a selfish sense of feeling good from doing so... I say fortunate, because I felt "guilty" or like I was" in the way" offering my assistance. See, there's no hero's when it comes to solving a missing person case. They either aren't solved, or when solved, it's not pleasant. It's not a troop of boy scouts you've led on a rugged camping expedition, or saving someone's life... because in both cases I found myself involved in, foul play is very likely, and the families involved are suffering in the worse way possible.



 I'll conclude with an experience I had Memorial Day 2005... it was a beautiful Spring day, and I went metal detecting in the area in Woodsville, NH, where Maura Murray "had her accident". By then i was also spending a lot of time on her family forum, as Sherlock. Where she disappeared was a hour or so from where I lived - much closer than Brianna Maitland. I had let the family know I'd be there. Got their okay.

It was a nice drive to the location. I parked, legally off the road. I got my gear and looked around. There was a open forest across the road, then next to my car a small field. Seems like 100 yards further in all directions was private land. Unless you walk further east, across a road and there's lots of wilderness. So this is what I did for several hours that day.

Back at my car later, I was just finishing the small field next to my car a second and last time. I started to pack up and a Woodsville police cruiser pulled to a stop on the opposite side of the road, and the officer was watching me.

I love America. I got in my car, thirsty and tired, and the cruiser followed. All right, i thought, i know where this is going... so a half-mile or so down the road there is a country store. I pulled in there and parked. So did the officer. I went over to his car!

"Hi" I said as he got out of his car, and he voiced similar in response. I said, "I noticed you are following me".

Considering it was a holiday, many people were out enjoying themselves, I was rather annoyed, yet curious.

He asked me what i was doing, and for my drivers licence. I told him and gave it to him. I explained I was helping the Murray family find their daughter, Maura, missing in the area.

He smiled and said - "haven't heard of the case - but then I'm new here". He gave me back my license and drove off. I went into the country store unable to miss the Missing Person's Poster for Maura Murray tacked to the door.

And that's what a "Victim's Advocate" does... we shake our heads a lot!!!

Not really, but there are those moments.

VICTIM'S ADVOCATE - Part Three

Subtitle: AGENTS and VICTIMS...

More on why and how I became a "victim's advocate"...

There's a new tv commercial for insurance that's been airing for awhile now... can't quite get it out of my head. It features not a gecko, nor a foxy cartoon femme fatale, but rather it stars a very amiable, attractive woman who can't not smile and can't not suppress her enthusiasm as she asks potential buyers questions, and generally pops back with -"Discount, Discount, Discount!"... Ahhhh.  Reminds me of my early years, 17 - 21.Only in my case it was "Victim, Victim, Victim!"

It seems in so many ways we are a society of victims. Our earliest colonists were "victims", in so many ways... many died ... many suffered, many went crazy... but here we are today, still in many ways "victims" of one sort or another. And it's true, we can be victims in so many ways. 

Back to my early 20's... sometime around 1974 I got stoned on marijuana. After all the horror stories I'd heard I was certain I would die soon after. My brain would melt, or I'd go crazy and within a week would be injecting myself with heroin.

Ironically, I was fine... in fact, I was more than fine. ... it was divine intervention... at a time in my life where I was near the end.

Back then, I did what most other middle class boomer's did after graduating HS, we went off to college. No break... had to keep the conveyor moving... what John Lennon of Beatles fame called "the Merry Go Round" ... well, I had to get off. 

Given the proper way I was raised as a child into being a teenager, I'd love to be able to say, like so many talented people say, "I'm sorry, I used and it was a big mistake". But I won't do that. See... prior to using, yes, I was enrolled in a college to become a physicist, or a teacher.  But seriously, not being a "man from Mars", I was not good with math, and I was a loner. Why would I want to teach a classroom of students still shell-shocked from HS? So, no, things were not going well at all.

Until I got stoned... do you know that a lot of people really are beautiful, that nature is alive, the earth is a great planet to live on, that silence is a symphony and art is divine? Where I had been settling into adulthood, which began at 18 back then, with anger, resentment, mindless pursuit of an education I may have been interested in, since I've loved electronics and chemistry my whole life, I really wasn't that person. 

Almost overnight I realized my life's dream... I wanted to be a writer. I didn't want to hate people, and feel vengeful... I wanted to discover people... I wanted friends. I wanted experiences... I wanted to face my fears... and write.

And a short-story I'd read at age 8, "R Is For Rocket", the short story within called "Frost and Fire", came to mind... I realized what i needed to do to become all that i could become would be "to work among the scientists", those who would now be called professors. With a community college in town, I realized the one way I could do that was to get a job as a custodian. Honestly, I don't know how I knew that, I just did. I figured three years... I vowed that whatever it took, if I had to sit at the entrance to the HR dept, I would get that job. By then i had quite college... sold my car, moved near campus, and loved to walk and ride my bike. I submitted an application, and as you should already know, I got hired within a very short time. I was the 3 - 11 custodian, at the fine Arts center at the college. My life exploded with friends, knowledge, and hope.

But first I had to understand what it was to be a victim. Because that is what i was... in so many ways. The answer came a year or so into the job when I became friends with an English professor. It all came down to two things - was I a victim, or was I an agent?  Being a victim is a part of the human-condition. Being an "agent" is something we can learn to be to overcome being a victim.

However, in some cases the victim cannot be an agent. They may need an advocate to help. And many years later... that is where I found myself. With years of experience with people of all kinds, experiences both very scary, yet others so very beautiful... I found myself unable to resist the urge to help....

Next time... the stories of persons that were victims, of serious nature, and my eventual participation in two missing person's cases. 

    

VICTIM'S ADVOCATE - Part Two

I'm eccentric... I admit it. I started out as an inquisitive child... the class clown, and had to know how everything worked, by taking it apart - rarely to be put back together. From there became, even more inquisitive and learned eventually how to put things back together. I learned about relationships, and mostly how they fall apart, and can't be put back together. I still hope... but for what, I don't know.

Within the past 5 years, to give you an idea of how awkward this whole "victim's advocate is, I applied for a job, and under a category called: "Special interests or hobbies", I wrote "victims advocate". I wished I hadn't - it can mean so many things, like workplace whistle-blower, but oddly, they did call me, to inquire about temp work. But, I don't think I'll put that down again... not something to tell an employer, in fact, not much that I write here can I share with an employer... which is too bad.

If only we could be free to be ourselves... if only we as a society could recognize the difference between offensives where people get hurt and those where they don't - like having pot, for example - in NH it's a $2000 fine and up to a year in jail for a joint. Serious crime!There are sentences for violent crimes which are much less severe, and people get hurt. I just can't see the logic in that.

This blog series is about victims and advocates. So the question I hope to answer is, why am I involved? Maybe because I read online news, and made a phone call. Maybe more...

Until 4th grade, I was coming along okay... but come 5th, and a family move, things changed. It was partly because of me - I was the underdog, and sensitive... my parents figured a new town, new beginning. They also bought a more expensive house in a expensive neighborhood.

My 1st memory of my new 5th grade school was having a guy kick my feet out from under me, while I leaned against the hallway wall. It only got worse...

I finally graduated... obviously skipping past my school experiences, to one night around 1969, when after the fact, I found out my sister who slept in the room next to me, got a knock on her bedroom window. She was around 15. She often would skip out her window and party... I found this out later. I was straight as an arrow then, ultra-right, and I didn't question authority. My sister didn't trust me with those secrets. It happened on this night, my sister didn't feel well... she told the guy at the window "no". And went back to bed.

Within the next couple of days news broke that a local teen was missing, and a ransom from his father, a doctor, was demanded. The father paid the ransom only to bury his young son, whom the kid-nappers killed. The person's responsible were arrested... the mastermind... he was the guy I most feared at my school, in my own grade level, who bullied me often, and, he was the guy knocking on my sisters window the night the teenager disappeared. My father was rumored to have money - he didn't, believe me. My sister was their intended victim... and that's just the beginning.

The purpose of this post is to share why I became a "victim's advocate". I've since retired (so to speak)... it's really more than I can handle. The reality of the emotion involved, and the uncertainty can't be understated. In my next post, more on why...

VICTIM'S ADVOCATE - Part One

There are victims and there are victim's advocates. We come in many types and styles. Prior to the availability of the internet, the best a person could do was write an editorial in a newspaper. Nothing much would happen - if he really knew something 9she didn't dial 911, either because (s)he figured what he knew wasn't really that important, or it didn't exist. Perhaps, that's the way it should have stayed that way... but it didn't. So now, there are advocates for many issues. Mine is for the victim.

***

I've been a voracious reader my whole life... sci-fi, murder mysteries, true-crime, etc... But to be honest, it took several self-death defying moments, personally, before I could get involved, that and the fact that the WWW was now at my fingertips.

I first suggested this topic, "victim's advocate"  to my fellow blogger, Slam Dunks, available HERE, when I was a "guest writer" on his series about Brianna Maitland, FBI Link.  Brianna Maitland, 17, disappeared the night of March 19, 2004, in Montgomery VT. She has not been found, her disappearance remains a mystery. Slam and I discussed it, as a topic, and it was obvious it wasn't one of those usual topics. Meaning, it went into the cupboard.

Link to Slam Dunk's first post for Brianna is: HERE. I was invited to be a guest writer somewhere around Post 14 after I wrote to him, and volunteered. I had become involved in late 2004, by then, Brianna had been missing 5 years. 

The question I get a lot, is "what's it to me?" "Why get involved?" The answer is, I'm already involved. The "why"... well, that's fate. I called her parents and offered to find her "missing car keys" with my metal detector. One thing led to another.

The basic facts are that I read about her disappearance in the news, online. I read that she was considered to be of "questionable character", in that drug abuse was suspected. It was likely, the news-papers reported, that she "ran away, to escape a drug debt". A month earlier another young woman, Maura Murray, disappeared in Haverhill NH, 90 min. SE of there. Coincidence? I expect, the answer is yes. The cases were different, then, but the Brianna case bothered me. The Murray case too, but for different reasons. With Brianna the case rested on her alleged "character". And I had to really wonder what the press was alluding to when it reported that police were suspicious of her disappearance as a "drug-related problem", and not something worse.

When it comes to "black and white" thinking I get annoyed. When it comes to "drugs", I always am left wondering, what drugs? They, the free press, don't mean alcohol... if they did, and they love that topic too, they would say it - alcohol. But in this case, a 17 year old woman disappeared under suspicious circumstances, and the hairs on my head stood up because there was an alleged "drug problem" with her disappearance, and to me, something didn't seem right. There was something rotten... and it wasn't in Denmark!

In my next post I will continue with my experiences. This is just an introduction.

***

Until next time, my favorite quote from the:

Declaration of Independence:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

SOURCE: Wikipedia - "Declaration of Independence"

We hold these truths to be self-evident..." 

We are all unique, we are all the same... quite the paradox then... little surprise to me that I stand up for someone less fortunate than myself. It's my friends that are perplexed... "why get involved?"

Why? Because I got screwed by the system too! And I have a voice... where others don't.
anonymous

Men from Mars, Women from Venus, and me??? Part 3

ARTIST'S GALLERY (Image Source):

Bluefooted.Deviantart Gallery

I've been thinking. Yes, I know... But I think I bit off more than I can chew on this topic. At one time, I could clearly see what it was that I wanted to say. But now... things aren't as clear and memorable as then, they're more murky and faded.

In my last post, I ended with "Family", "blood thicker than water...". I described "dumping" a girlfriend named Diane. Quitting college, selling my car. Moving upstairs into apartments built over an old horse-barn. I was 18, and on my own for the first time. In a future post I'm considering, I'll tell the story.

Now, my goal is to explore men and women... and where do I fit in?

Where do any of us "fit in"?

The story of humankind, and our gift of consciousness, which to many may feel like a curse. How do we live our lives - truly live our lives? Are we free? Are we really free to choose our own life? What would a hedonistic society look like?

Just thoughts I have. We are not completely free, yet we can make personal choices, and we can get involved in peaceable ways. That gives us a chance, and that gives us hope. Obviously, human interactions from the most intimate to the most global, how we communicate, or love, or assist, or destroy, depends upon may things. We have many ways we join together, and many ways we don't. In many religions for example women are subservient to men, and follow or subject to strict codes of conduct .

Women are people - humans just like men. I learned that by 5 year's old. Why can't civilized societies recognize that?

I came of age during a most interesting time - the mid- 1970's. Hippies were gone, except strongly in spirit. Yet what they opened, Pandora's box, or Cleopatra's, it doesn't matter... what they experienced was passed down to us...

Yes, I did quit college. Yes, I sold my car. Yes, I got a job as a custodian at the community college. Yes, I was in my early 20's and after 8 years of feeling like I was in prison, bullied daily to the extreme to where I was really scared to go to school. But the 70's...

I used the word "dumped" purposely to to make a point. I think it's aninappropriate, derogatory word, a word used by both men and women quite loosely. I think Diane was the last woman I "dumped", at 18...  there was nothing there, no real friendship, no chemistry, no affection. We didn't communicate well... and I decided it wouldn't work. I should have never let it go on as long as it did... but I was a late bloomer, and I had things to do.... and ironically, nothing did, go on.

Not until I met Sue. By then, a year later I was realizing what I wanted was the whole woman in a relationship... I liked women... I liked the way they thought, and the pleasant feeling when meeting a woman that was naturally good natured.

I recall in the mid 70's, leading up to the Women's Right Amendment, that the campus I worked at was very open to equality between the sexes. But here is where I get in over my head.

It all came down to Sex. I never wanted just sex, which seemed like what a lot of men wanted. I wanted the whole woman, and I wanted not to feel like I possessed her. Fortunately, my job as custodial landed me in the Fine Arts center... full of artists, writers, professors of English, and photography, to name just a few. I had the keys to the place... every door. I got to know many people... and found two professor's who became my mentors.

Doug S. and Virginia Y. This topic is for another post, on education, my reason for bringing it up, is Doug introduced me to books... and I'd always been a voracious reader, so I readily accepted the books he suggested - authors like Henry Miller.

I simply had a very bad taste in my soul for "eduction" as in "the system of...". But Doug was able to enlighten me about education, and much more...

I inquired, about how a guy is suppose to  relate to women, and there seemed to be too many games. He said "you don't need to play games... just talk to them, be friends, and if the moment seems right..."

Time I accepted the fact I was okay me, and I  liked women... and it wasn't all about sex, all the time.

Yes... I mentioned family.

Let's just say after I moved in with a woman at 20, and got the job as custodian at the college, my mother was having a break-down. I was completely "off the road". I was a disgrace... and I should I Should..., I should what???

I'm going on 21 and I can live my own life. Shouldn't I?

Oh, like it was yesterday...

 The ultimate battle, between mother and son. I don't think either of us won. But she gave me both a gift and a curse...

What I found were many friends, good sex, good times... I prospered. But I learned that roots, don't stretch too easily... A battle where in essence, my mother's road in life is - the only road in life. For me, it's  theroad less traveled. 

The custodian stint was only suppose to last 3 years... it lasted much longer, brought me to some amazing places. The original plan was to experience this "blue-collar"  job. It's something I dreamed of. And I got the job!!! A job that a good friend took over when I left... last I knew he had a wife of + years, 5 kids, and he always had ganga. A good life.

Almost exactly what my own mother wanted...

The battle lasted many years... and for awhile there, 3 - 4 years... I lived a good life. Three years... enough as it turns out that I would have to on...

So much for "thinking outside the box". What saved me, or what was left of me, were three close friends... Earl, Joni and Mary... Mary was with me. For awhile...

I'm not from Mars... I'm not!

CAT'S DREAM

Ever wonder why cat's sleep so much?

It's because they are good dreamers...

They see things us humans don't...

EYES WIDE OPEN...

If Men are from Mars, Women Venus, then... Part Two

lovers -rajunasrefuge

In Part One I described a scenario - where within the battle between the sexes I don't fit in. That the battle itself will never really be resolved. That unlike attitudes regarding ethnicity, country of origin and religion, there will always be unsolved differences between the sexes. There is no question that men and women have physical differences. It's when we get into the psychology of the differences that we get into a complicated, complex mess.

It is simply not valid to say "all men are pigs" and women are "sugar and spice and all things nice".  That is a generaliztion, that has no basis in reality. Yet many, believe it to be true.

***

About Me:

My life started off exceptionally good. When I was born in 1954 my father was in the Navy. They lived in NJ, Tom's River. My dad and my mom loved me for all it was worth. And my dad's future looked quite promising... his father was president of a prestigious business located in NYC, and my father would most likely follow in his footsteps. Only he didn't... my grand-father died of a heart attack at 54, and an aunt, his wife, had no interest in my grand-father's side of the family, ie, my dad, so that quickly put to rest any hopes my father may have had.

We moved back to my mother's town. Where her mostly Swedish family lived. I'm 50% Swedish. It's my father's side where I get some interesting genes... French, Dutch, Bohemian, German...

The town I grew up in was once voted an "All American City". It had many brick paved roads, modest sized homes, quaint yards, many parks and businesses. I was fortunate!

***

I have a sister a year and a half younger than me. From around the age of 5, I remember hanging out with my sister and two of her friend's, Julie and Ann. They were my friends, and we had other friends in the neighborhood too. I remember singing the song "Row, row, row your boat..." playing "Mother May I", and Hop Scotch... idyllic days...

I was probably around 6 or 7 year's old when my mother became concerned. She was afraid if I continued to hang out with my sister and her friends, I would become gay. So she proceeded to manipulate my life to get me more involved with other boys in the neighborhood. Her rational was ludicrous, but the end result ultimately may have been good...  on the other hand, most likely i would have found my own way to other friends - male and female. But what stuck in my mind was the fact I was not suppose to hang out with females.

***

Fast forwards 14 years...

The goal of this post, this series, is to show how stereotypes, male, female are misunderstood. Somehow, as far as i can tell, I grew up with a perspective of the sexes quite different, yet right on as far as equality of the sexes was ideological. I was ahead of my time...

***

I moved out on my own at 18. I couldn't wait to get out, away from family rules and conditions... I move into the upstairs set of an apartments of an old Horse-stables converted into apartments. The college campus is my back-yard. I sell my car, and my life begins...

I am working at the time towards an Associates degree, at the local community college; that was begun while I still lived at home with my parents. I'd had two girlfriends by then... the first, in 8th grade, lasting a full week that seemed like years, her name was Brenda. Then, around 17, I was introduced to Diane. We lasted 3 years or so, but it wasn't great in any respect. I was still a virgin. I lost that with a woman, a total stranger, at a NY State Park while several of us male friends went camping... interesting in that it happened that way... tragic in that it wasn't with a woman I knew, that if I know what I know now, we could have had a much better experience. But the fact is... in our society, sex is taboo...

***

At 20 my family expected I'd get married soon. It was also expected I'd graduate from the community college and get a job teaching, or go on and get a higher degree. I did neither.

I got a job as a custodian at the community college; I dumped Diane; and I met Sue. The job as a custodian at the community college was the best thing that ever happened... in my Favorite Books Section of my blog, I list "R is for Rocket"... it's because of this book, the short story called "Frost and Fire", that I went this route. It was a most unique turn of events...

Unfortunately... I was about to face my roots... where "blood is thicker than water..." Family is suppose to come first... and as the now adult bird takes flight... to experience the world... the family has a surprise.

Next time... "Family dinner, two o'clock... this Sunday"... be there.

Image source:

http://peabodycorner.com/news.aspx

IF MEN ARE FROM MARS, WOMEN FROM VENUS, Then... Part One

L'Amoureux Tarot Card

If "Men are from Mars, and Women are from Venus"... then I have a question.

WHERE DO I COME FROM???

Earth???

I really don't "fit in". I don't.  Oh, but it's not what you may be thinking... that I have typical issues with women, relationships, etc. I don't. Or I do, but that's to be seen... I do share and recognize most of the typical issues that men and women have, but I am fortunate in that I have a unique experience to share.

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The basics: Physically, it's generally easy to identify males from females by their physical appearance. I do find it fascinating that historically men and women have gone to unusual lengths to disguise themselves as their opposite sex. This was most notable during the period of the American Civil War and before... cases of women posing as men to become sea-faring pirates, for example. Women joining the ranks of the Confederate or Union soldiers... But psychologically, it's not at all that simple. There are vast variables in what makes a man and a woman...

To add fuel to the debate, unlike racial issues, sexual identity is one of the most complicated identity issues we face... when considering the simple fact that women didn't have the right to vote until August 26, 1920, which was granted in the Nineteenth Amendment, it's no surprise we are still confused about the battle between the sexes. It's a futile battle, in many ways, one that I doubt will ever be resolved... unlike skin color, religion, national origin, our sex that we are born with is a "fixture". Some can restart their lives with a sex-change to a more natural preference, but many can't.

And many of us feel we are exactly who we are... and that it is a fact, that essentially. men and women are from different planets. That the stereotypes, that we often take for granted, are correct. "Men are all "pigs" and women are "sugar and spice and all things nice".

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I hate to shatter your reality, but the truth is far different. In the upcoming posts, I will show you why. And why will I do this? Well it's a long story... the story of my life in fact.

The catalyst is women I know, often remark about how odd it is I've never been married, have no children... that I'd make a great husband and father.  And I think I would, have, maybe will, still...

But the fact is, there's a price to pay when "thinking outside the box"... that price is to be "different". Some call it living at the "fringe". The theory... life is all in black and white - round peg/square peg. Lock-step. But it doesn't work... scandals such as those involving Tiger Woods; Presidential Candidate, John Edwards; President Bill Clinton; all suggest that human nature and our relationships are far more complex and complicated than what is generally summed up as a "norm".

I'm unusual... I'll grant you that... but not in the usual way...

Picture source:

http://s216.photobucket.com/albums/cc283/harunosakura500/

Twearth

Today we meet Twearth... not his real name, but he prefers his privacy. So "Twearth" is my other cat. A brown-nose tabby.

His furry rings remind me of an echo... an echo in time... of multiple dimensions... multiple choices. In his eyes are things to see. Things that go "bump in the night".

I adopted Twearth from the local SPCA a few years ago... he is a great mouser... we don't have a rodent problem now - did at one time. He's a big cat, 15 lbs. Out where I live, that, plus the fact he's in great physical shape, means he's likely to survive.

Out here we have predators: Owls, coyotes, fox, bobcats... if anyone can defend himself, it's Twearth. I hope.

We have other members of family, like this chicken:

This photo is for real... Twearth and a very fancy chicken... they get along fine.

Of course it's not like Twearth doesn't think about playing with our chickens, as seen here, he's waiting for his chance to play:

But when it all comes down to the opportunities in life... it's frustrating:

We never quite know what we'll get...

A nap in the sun...

GAY MARRAIGE - A Collision of Law and Religion

After tonight I can't avoid the subject any longer... as a Libertarian, a heterosexual person, and a person who is objective, I have an opinion and I feel compelled to speak it.

Of course what started this subject for tonight was a segment on NHPR.org. I heard on the drive home.

Some history: Gay marriage became legal in NH as of Jan. 01, this year. It was a political/legislative/governor's signature thing. It overturned a law against person's of the same sex getting married. More specifically enabling "married gay person's" the same legal rights as heterosexual couples.

I have to admit... until this whole gay marriage thing came about - rather recently I think, I never realized how legal and political marriage is! I always thought of it as a religious thing. Well, I stand corrected.

Essentially... some citizens of NH are preparing to get referendums on ballots to overturn the new law allowing gay marriage. Great, more wasted news space, because frankly I don't see gay marriage as an issue for the state. Sure, there has to be state involvement in two people getting married. But really, isn't this a religious issue, more than it is a political one??? There shouldn't have been laws against it in the first place. It's the right of the individual, and a matter for the church.

Basically, the NH legislature and Gov. Lynch did us all a favor... those seeking to overturn the law miss the essential issue. No one is being hurt. No one is forcing you to be friends with everyone you meet. It's a church issue. Not a political one.