Yesterday...

...on the way home from the doctor's office, some dude slammed into my rear-end. It caused immediate pain in my neck, head and left back. They took me to the ER and I had some x-rays. The doctor at the ER said that the pain would worsen before it got any better. Can I sue for the hospital bills, not to mention the ambulance ride and the pain?

Kevin is my Irish twin who...

...delivered the first man punch I ever received. I was in my sleeping bag because my parents were out and, as the oldest, I was the babysitter and my middle sister was in my bed. I put her there because she and Kevin were making all kinds of noise at the foot of my stairs. It was a dormer room so it had no door. You went up the flight of stairs and all you saw was my bedroom. I had told her to be quiet a few times and between her and Kevin, no one ever shut-up. I was in bed (where they should have been) and they were keeping me awake. We lived in a huge house and they could have gone anywhere to play. But since they wouldn't stop playing at the foot of my stairs, I brought Lori up to my room and put her to bed in my bed. I took out my sleeping bag and crawled into it. All of a sudden Kevin came up my stairs and started sucker punching me wherever he could and as hard as he could.

He got me in the face so hard that he ran down the stairs. I followed him down to get to the bathroom mirror and said to him, "I think you broke my nose!" He took one look at my face and responded, "I think I did too!"

Someone was in the downstairs bathroom so I held my face over the island counter in our kitchen. I couldn't just keep bleeding on the counter so I went upstairs to my parents bathroom. About that time my parents came home and my mom screamed when she saw all the blood in her kitchen. Someone must have told her what had happened and to who so I never saw her that night. I guess she went to bed. My father must have been punishing my brother because I don't remember seeing him either but I'm sure someone took a look at my nose. But, since my parents didn't believe in taking kids to the doctor unless the school demanded it, I never had that fracture treated but my nose was most assuredly broken and by morning, I was on my way to school with a fat nose and 2 black eyes. I don't ever remember getting an apology from my brother but by then, and continuing to this day, he had already stopped speaking to me unless he felt the need to call me some hideous name. If I had done anything to offend him, I certainly don't know what it was. And Lord knows my Irish family doesn't talk things out, most of the people in my family just don't speak to each other for years, decades or ever.

He may not remember this but when he was about 3, he and I would grab some dry cereal every morning and take it into the bathroom, put it under the old-fashioned radiator and wait for the ants to come out. We named them and considered them our pets. We named one Santa Claus and oddly, we saw him every single morning. I doubt that we were really convinced that Santa Claus was the same ant everyday, but we had fun pretending. That's the only time I ever remember playing with him. I don't even remember him talking to me after that.

I do remember what my mother wrote in my baby book. To paraphrase, she said, "You love your little brother and you're not at all jealous of him. You do things to him that you like people to do to you. You're so gentle with him that I know he's safe in your arms." I was 14 months old when he was born.

A while back he as in Tampa to go to a Bruce Springsteen concert. He knew that I was here and going to the same concert but he never got in touch with me, didn't offer to meet after the concert and made sure that I wasn't invited to the bar-b-que that my sister had for him the day after the concert. (Yes, the sister that he broke my nose for.)

He behaved businesslike to me at my mother's funeral in 2001 but I haven't heard from him since. He hasn't answered my calls in years. Just because I don't remember offending him doesn't necessarily mean I never did. But, if I did, he never told me and whatever it was, it couldn't have been so bad that he has forgotten his mother's first born child.

I don't expect him to be my best friend, but it would be nice to have a brother to chat with every so often.

Completed version of my recent encounter with a police officer from Torrance California

I left no bruises on anyone...

...yet I was the one who got tackled by cops shouting, "STOP RESISTING!" (for the benefit of the camera that I knew was there. They always say that, whether a person is resisting or not.), cuffed, dragged through the apartment complex in cuffs and tossed in the back seat of a Torrance California Police car and taken, against my will and for no good reason, to the UCLA psych ward by a robot of a cop named Officer Maier who, when I called him a bully for "taking down an old lady when you're twice my size, bragged that he was "4 times" my size. He grabbed my arms, bruising them and then cuffed me so tight that I had no choice but to slip my hands out. I just held my arms behind me until he went to take them off at which time I brought forth my uncuffed hands.

This happened the other day so most of the bruising is gone but here are the remnants of a black eye:



This is from when he told me to turn around and put my hands behind my back, so I asked him if I could change into some street clothes or at least get some deodorant. Instead of saying "No", he grabbed me and threw me down on the couch putting me in one of those arm up your back holds...he had to use my arm to drag me down, bruising me here:

These are mostly bad pictures of the bruises left by the hand cuffs, they've faded a pit and you can't really tell in the pics so I think I'll try to get better ones before they go away completely:

Officer Maier (of the Torrance California PD) is the first vet who I've ever heard pat himself on his own back for keeping the world safe for democracy as a USMC recon sniper. Ironically, he was bragging about how people like him protect the rights of people like mine. Most times I would have just thanked him for his service but at the time, I was handcuffed in back of a cop car and he was driving me to the loony bin for no acceptable reason. Apparently, in any conflict, the person who gets to the phone and calls the cops first is the one who is believed, no matter how ridiculous that person's story may be. So, like they did when Jeffery Dahmer had a victim running out of his house...Dahmer told the cops that he was having a lover's quarrel so they left the poor man to be raped and murdered. Well, I already had a black eye and some other bruises besides the ones the comes inflicted upon me. Like that, the Torrance cops believed the liar who called them to lock me up. I had committed no crime, I wasn't thinking of suicide or homicide. I haven't been able to eat much lately so when I told the cops that I've not been eating well, they didn't even give me a chance to tell them that I drink Ensure supplements before they decided that I warranted a trip to the hospital where I stayed, refusing treatment the entire time (there was nothing wrong to treat), being rude to my captors and generally annoying people. It worked, I was immediately discharge the next day after all of the staff bitched about my "attitude".

It gets worse. I'm writing this later and I see that I've repeated myself, I'll fix it later but it's already posted so I'll leave it like this until I fix it to send it to the Torrance Internal Affairs office.

 

He had the handcuffs on so tight that they bruised my arm...as did his 350 but 6'6" self when he tackled me. He bragged it was being recorded, I hope so, I'd love to see it and have others decide for themselves if brute force was necessary on a 115 pound grandmother. I knew there was no reason for me to be taken against my will to the loony loony bin. I wasn't suicidal, homicidal or delusional. I simply admitted to not eating very much because of my nerves. That's all it took. Based on that, they took me against my will (with my hands behind my back so it would look like I still had them on instead of my just holding each cuffs with my fingers) to a hospital that continued the illegal detention. If he would have listened instead of tackling me, he would have known that I had been drinking cans of vanilla Ensure and taking vitamins. He totally disregarded that fact that I told him that I had planned on going to the doctor that day but my daughter told me to wait until the next day, her day off, so that she could take me herself. I never miss an opportunity to play with my grandson so I didn't mind waiting until the next day. There's was simply no reason to detain me and my bitchy self.

 

Apparently, I was such a bitch in the hospital that the docs wanted me out. The nurses threatened me with further detention if I continued to be disrespectful. But, I think I had the opposite of the Stockholm Syndrome...I don't like my captors one bit. When they asked for my name (I had already removed my own Scarlett Letter, the wristband with my name.) I simply responded, "Marcia Brady". There was one heavy-set morning nurse who took it all in good stride,, I liked her. But there were mostly hideous wenches who said things like, "No wonder your daughter wanted you taken away." I had no idea what she was talking about because no one ever gave me a good reason for my detention. Acting like a bitch from hell isn't on the list of things you can be locked up for.

 

Before I go, I should mention that this redneck cop is from Birmingham (and proud of the Confederacy) and bragged about his prowess as a sniper.) He asked me, "Do you know what a recon sniper is?" I told him that I did and then I began to wonder why he was asking me such things. Was I supposed to be frightened into submission? He was losing the war of the words we were having and he knew it. He had nothing but the party line to quote and I had common sense. Common sense wins every time. And, it stumps the fool who just quoted something he heard at a meeting of police.

 

I found it so ironic that he would brag about his service at that time and in the way he did. He was ranting about where America would be without a military and that if it weren't for people like him, I wouldn't have the rights that I have as an American. I would have believed that coming from any vet who didn't have me cuffed (sort of) in the back of a cop car on the way to a place that would lock me up and take away my civil rights indefinitely. When I mentioned that and the fact that he tackled me even though he was twice my size, he spouted out, "Four times!" Officer Maier, as I told you during our little ride together, you are a bully personified. God forbid we should have many more cops like you. You lied to me and you used your immense stature to do your job. I would never take a job that required such behavior. If this had happened in Iran, we would see it for what it is.

For a while...

...I'll be trying to communicate with my kids, grandkids, and siblings. I'll write to each one of them and tell them what I'd like to say to them if I could. This is the only way I have left to talk to them so I'm going to take advantage of it.

Today I'll start with my baby sister because she is the only one in my family who treats me with any respect. She is so sweet that I'm not even going to mention some of the things she did that caused me serious trouble. I can forgive anyone anything if they treat me with respect. I don't even want an apology because they mean nothing. I'll take actions over words any day.

Marie was born when I was 9 and I was the one who took care of her. She called me Mommy until she was 3. I remember the look on her little face when I would hold my arms out as she ran to me for a diaper change. She was the youngest and I was (sigh) the oldest. No matter what has gone on in our lives, she has always been there for me. Once I heard someone say, "A family is a place where, if you have to go, they have to take you." She isn't financially able to help me but I can call her and she always chats about something pleasant. She has been through some very rough times herself but she has always projected happiness no matter how bad the circumstances.

The only thing that I would ask of her is to do the one thing I need the most. I need her support. I need for her to talk to our other siblings and tell them that I'm not the devil incarnate. I realize it's easier to be accepted in my family if you join in with the "Meg is rotten." conversations but I doubt they would toss her out of their lives for standing up for me. But, who knows, maybe they would. I'm sure she worries that she might be tossed aside if she defended me about ANYTHING...but she is the only kid in my family who truly heard my mothers dying request, "Tell my kids to take care of each other."

I have nothing bad to say about her because no matter what has happened between us, she and I have always been sisters and we always will be.

 

Marie (on the left) with her lifelong BFF, Justine.

I'm born

Most parents do the best they can on any given day with the tools they have at their disposal. My parents weren't perfect but they weren't the worst parents in the world either. I miss my mother (someone you will miss forever when they're gone) and I love my father and hope to have him around for a long, long time.

They made many mistakes but as a non-perfect parent myself, I don't hold them accountable for the damage that was done while they thought they were doing the right thing.

When my father told me to lie on my bed with my pants off and wait for him to come in with the belt, I was as frightened as any 7 year old would be. He would eventually come in and spank me with the belt and even today, I remember that my feelings were hurt much more than my naked backside. When my mother took a $1,000 scholarship check that I had earned and kept it, I never said a word although, I could have used the money while I was in college as a single mother.

I was very young when I realized that my mother didn't like me very much and that thought kept me up at night crying into my pillow. I can't even describe the feeling that I had when my friends would say how sweet my mother was. On a camping trip, she was a parent chaperon in a different cabin than I. The next morning, all the kids told me how great my mom was. I asked her once why she was so nice to my friends and so mean to me, her answer was, "You aren't my friend, you're my daughter. When she would be cooking, I would go into the kitchen and ask her if I could help. Her response was always, "No, it would take too long if you helped."

She called me names I would never repeat here but I'll never forget them. But, as an adult, I realize that she honestly thought what she was doing was right. She was a product of her life experiences, as are we all. Today I would give anything to have a cup of coffee with her for an hour or two.

My father is still alive so I'll keep some of the worst things to myself but suffice it to say that he never, once, said a nice thing about me. I surely knew what my faults were but for all I knew, I was the sum total of those faults.

My friends always asked me why my parents treated me to badly and until they did that, I didn't know how bad it was. I visited friends homes and was envious of the way their parents were so good to them. I tried to learn parenting skills from the parents of my friends.

My grandparents, aunts and uncles always told me that they felt badly for me because they could see what I knew, I was the kid in the family who did all the work, cared for the babies and took the blame for any "crime" committed in my house. I didn't realize until I was an adult that my entire extended family felt sorry for me. It would have been nice if they had said anything to my parents about the way I was treated.

As bad as growing up in a house where I was treated more like Cinderella than Marcia Brady, that was nothing when it came to what my siblings learned from my parents. They realized early that it was OK to treat me like dirt. That's another generation of family members who felt comfortable treating me like the red-headed step-child. They taught my nieces how "evil" I was so none of them have anything to do with me.

My siblings even treated my kids badly until they were old enough to listen to their father and step-mother as they took over the roll of teaching my kids that their mother was not deserving of respect. I must admit that, at this time, they have stopped telling my kids how bad I am but it's too late. My kids already know that I am the only family member who can do no right, deserves no forgiveness and is not worthy of a Happy Mother's Day, Happy Birthday or a Merry Christmas, much less an occasional phone call.

Now, the saddest thing in my life...my kids are teaching another generation (my grandchildren) that Grandma isn't worth having in their lives. Since I can't get a response on the phone from any of my kids when all I want is to speak to my grandchildren, I have decided that I will NOT allow those kids to go through life believing their parents. So, I am going to start writing to my grandchildren online and someday, when they Google their own name (or a friend tells them about it) they will learn what has happened in my life and why they don't see me. I'd rather speak to them or visit them, but if that is not allowed, I will use the Internet to tell them how much I love them and why I haven't been around to see them grow up.

Sadly...this is far too true

No one notices your tears,

no one notices your sadness,

no one notices your pain

but they all notice your mistakes.

Mom

I left no bruises on anyone...

...yet I was the one who got tackled by cops shouting, "STOP RESISTING!", cuffed, dragged through the apartment complex in cuffs and tossed in the back seat of a Torrance California Police car and taken, against my will and for no good reason, to the UCLA psych ward by a robot of a cop named Officer Maier who, when I called him a bully for "taking down an old lady when you're twice my size, bragged that he was "4 times" my size. He grabbed my arms, bruising them and then cuffing me so tight I had no choice but to slip my hands out. I just held my arms behind me until he went to take them off at which time I brought forth my uncuffed hands.

This happened the other day so most of the bruising is gone but here are the remnants of a black eye:



This is from when he told me to turn around and put my hands behind my back, so I asked him if I could change into some street clothes or at least get some deodorant. Instead of saying "No", he grabbed me and threw me down on the couch putting me in one of those arm up your back holds...he had to use my arm to drag me down, bruising me here:

These are mostly bad pictures of the bruises left by the hand cuffs, they've faded a pit and you can't really tell in the pics so I think I'll try to get better ones before they go away completely:

Officer Maier (of the Torrance California PD) is the first vet who I've ever heard pat himself on his own back for keeping the world safe for democracy as a USMC recon sniper. Ironically, he was bragging about how people like him protect the rights of people like mine. Most times I would have just thanked him for his service but at the time, I was handcuffed in back of a cop car and he was driving me to the loony bin for no acceptable reason. Apparently, in any conflict, the person who gets to the phone and calls the cops first is the one who is believed, no matter how ridiculous that person's story may be. So, like they did when Jeffery Dahmer had a victim running out of his house...Dahmer told the cops that he was having a lover's quarrel so they left the poor man to be raped and murdered. Well, I already had a black eye and some other bruises besides the ones the comes inflicted upon me. Like that, the Torrance cops believed the liar who called them to lock me up. I had committed no crime, I wasn't thinking of suicide or homicide. I haven't been able to eat much lately so when I told the cops that I've not been eating well, they didn't even give me a chance to tell them that I drink Ensure supplements before they decided that I warranted a trip to the hospital where I stayed, refusing treatment the entire time (there was nothing wrong to treat), being rude to my captors and generally annoying people. It worked, I was immediately discharge the next day after all of the staff bitched about my "attitude".

It gets worse.

If someone called the cops on you Monday...

...and tells them God knows what to ensure that they take you away, in handcuffs, while telling you that they were told to "Get her out of my house, I'm afraid she'll hurt me.", and then gets you locked up on a psych ward long enough for the docs to see that you're not a harm to anyone, how would you react? Add to that a bus ride from the hospital back to the house where you live only to find out the locks were changed with everything you own inside. Then, when you have to beg for a ride to a motel, you're told to "Shut the fuck up or you can get out of the car." They drop you at the motel (to get you away from your house) and tell you to go check in only to peel out of the parking lot while you're checking in so that you can't say good-bye. Then, when you get your stuff in the room, you notice that they're parked on the street and you walk out to say good-bye and they wait until you get halfway to them to peel out again. The question is, would you (after being rejected, cussed at and demeaned, not to mention lied about and locked up), would you call them first thing in the morning to tell them good-bye before you leave town? Or, would you take the hint, avoid more cops and just do what they want you to do and leave with tears in your eyes?

After this, I had bruises all over, a black eye and the memory of being locked up for nothing. I decided to take the hint and leave quietly. Now I'm wrong because I didn't call in the morning to say good-bye. Talk about can't win for losing.