EklektikosByStar

God bless ‘em for their desire to do right by their Lord. But the conjoining of “church” and state that they have the audacity to implement in full view, sanctioned by a White House that considers itself above the law, sparks rage in my heart. To me this is vile and wrong.

Yes, I know they must believe that their laying on of hands is channeling God’s will into an imperfect vessel for their Christian Government agenda. They likely do not care if folks like me, who actually attended church in previous decades, will likely never again step foot in a Pentecostal house of worship. And yes, I figure there may well be friends and relatives reading this who find my demeanor akin to a backslide, that believe this one man has a Mandate of Heaven…to pack the courts, to take down Roe v. Wade one nibble at a time.

They likely do not experience a sense of fear over “a deconstruction of the administrative state”, as promised by Steve Bannon, that is now being executed. Perhaps they even consider our different perspectives as merely polar opposite points of view. Yet, in my whole life, now 66 years, I never felt folks “on the other side” were going along with a plan to destroy a democracy, threaten national security, shred the world order, and put my life in danger.

I detest this state of affairs.

CULT OF PERSONALITY

Constitution

Under

Lethal

Threat…

Our

Future looming so

Perilous…

Evokes a

Riveting

Sense that this

Orwellian

Narrative is

A government of

Lies and an

Insidious

Totalitarian State

You ought to fear!

CULT OF PERSONALITY

word exercise written at Bipartisan Coffee Shop 11/22/19

I looked up, and there was Pat Robertson on the tube making reference to the president’s “mandate from heaven”.

Having attended a four-square-gospel-fundamentalist-evangelical type church for 20 years…I was not alarmed by the term being used. Similarly, I knew that an anointing was implied, that the old preacher practically had the Bible memorized, so his wisdom was serving as truth for a mass of believers.

But the individual in receipt of the mantle, the utterance of his name, now that is what landed like a dissonant thud in my psyche. Immediately, I envisioned Moral Majority folks in the Eighties, some with whom I shared fellowship, and I pondered those now enabling their chosen imperfect presidential vessel. Yes, the man allegedly sent by God to give them their mandated Christian government.

I have no doubt that there are believers who lay hands on this man occupying the White House, even if on occasion this is only in casual passing, perhaps a brush up against his body, a touching of hands. They no doubt pray in earnest for the blessed fruits of their Lord, all the while feeling certain that those political blessings are not tainted by the one who holds the mantle.

Meanwhile, I suspect, as time goes by and more truth is revealed, some of these faithful followers will find themselves feeling soiled. Perhaps even used.

Photo on button by me…soon to post related story.

Some days my heart aches with the patriotism I once thought I was incapable of. As it turns out, I have a deep love for my country, especially now that I witness it teetering on the brink of demise, at the hands of a man who considers himself king.

This fellow knows little about the history of the United States Of America. But if he does know that the Declaration Of Independence was born of revolutionary spirit against a King George, our royal despot might view this as unfortunate.

For, whether one views the current resident of the White House as a sociopath or a narcissist or some combination of the two, he has deep respect for tyrants. Or, at minimum, their methods of exerting power over the masses.

As promised by Steve Bannon, the “deconstruction of the administrative state” is becoming more apparent, at least to those of us who have accepted the fact that we’re dealing with a dangerous man.

But for a myriad of reasons, his followers do not see him as a threat, nor do they worry about the fate of our nation. Or, by default, the world order.

Truth is, these enablers trouble me nearly as much as he does. This is an unsettling state of affairs, especially since some of these people are my loved ones. Far beyond some opposing political view, they are complicit in the evolving threat.

Breaks my heart.

September 29, 2018 — Unfriending & More On Facebook

My experiences with Facebook-related conflict have varied; and I’ve, thus, not handled them the same. I offer up an essay for you, Mary…and anybody else who cares to read it.

One episode involved a friend of a friend who wanted to be MY friend. At that time my settings enabled him to comment on my posts; but I was not in the mood for this ranting egotistical, yet articulate, bigot to go after me. First, I ignored his friend request, then I changed my settings, so that my public posts only get comments from my Facebook friends (on my timeline). I observed a post of his (elsewhere), in which he clearly had figured out what I’d done to restrict his access to my personal online space, and I ignored him.

Meanwhile, another Facebook friend, a guy who was briefly married to an old girlfriend of mine, was blurting out comments aimed at me that others were finding offensive. The topic was political, but he was mocking me…using some pretty blunt adjectives. Generally I was putting up with his (likely) drunken-state nastiness, as I knew his anger was coming from a pretty sick place…and I did not feel it necessary to call attention to what an ass he was being. But then I noted alarm in comments from others, especially one woman (a cousin of mine) who clearly was bothered by his demeanor towards me. She shared some of her thoughts privately, reminding me that he was being abusive. Given that it would not be appropriate for me to divulge publicly how the disease of alcoholism likely factors into his online persona, I did my first ever “unfriend”. I did not write to him about it, I just did it. However, I publicly posted a grainy nondescript facial photo of him without his name, taken from a high school yearbook, and announced my first “unfriend”…

And then there is one of my best of friends (since third grade) that I never “unfriended”… but for whom I lost respect. Until the era of tRump, I was able to tolerate the great divide between us. But on more than one occasion I provided fact checks in my comments to debunk the nasty anti-Muslim posts by my devout Christian friend. I even explained how posting untruths spread lies exponentially, that lies spread faster than truth. She would never pull anything I called her on. She never apologized. She essentially giggled and plowed forth in lock step with The Fuhrer’s agenda.

Of note is her invitation, 2-3 years back, to visit for the holidays. I said publicly I’d get back to her on that. Then privately I acknowledged that I knew she could do that easily, that exposure to my direct opposite frame of mind would not rattle her, that it would run like water off a duck’s back. Unstated was my understanding that she’d be praying incessantly for my way of thinking to change, and this would bolster her. Stated point blank was my admission that I could not make the visit, as I could not treat her with respect. She thanked me for being honest, and was genuinely appreciative.

But from that point on, there was a fading effect. While some will insist that true friends cannot possibly let that happen, that a relationship can thrive and be apolitical…I say that’s great for those who have such a friendship. But for me it would be like cutting off one of my arms…and then encouraging me to clap my hands.

Perhaps one day she and I will touch base via facebook…However, for some time now her Facebook has been offline. Maybe eventually she and I will meet face to face. But currently I have to let her go, as quite frankly I cannot shake how much I lay a shared blame at her feet…for this diabolical “gift from god” President that she enabled.

About “Cabbage Head”

My father, who grew up in Kentucky, never sang the entire “Cabbage Head Song” to me when I was young. It was always just the part at the end of the ballad, when the drunken husband is seeing a head on the pillow where his head oughta be…and his adulterous wife is claiming it’s a cabbage head!

Truth is, however, the link between the cabbage head and me…was my pillow, the one my head was still laying on in the morning when my dad said it was time to get up! Then again, perhaps when he called me a cabbage head, he was also joking that I was thick-witted or a dork.

This fond and silly memory inspired me to wander through all sorts of cabbage images and information, in fact far more than I expected to find.

Inspired by so much cabbage-related trivia, and in turn other memories and memorabilia rediscovered, my two-page tribute to cabbage head morphed into four pages. Included are two Victorian ladies that are part cabbage, one version of the “Cabbage Head Song”, as well as a photo of my grandson being posed above a cabbage patch.

Not featured are the knock off (cheaper, substitute) Cabbage Patch dolls that my parents gave to our daughters back in the eighties. As they were not authentic, yes you guessed it, we called them “Cabbage Head” dolls!

And I do believe it was my dad’s idea to call them that…

Otis and his flag had appeared multiple times in my camera roll by the time I found him in the Whole Foods dining area. We’d both just rallied at the Federal Courthouse against the separation of families as the result of the Zero Tolerance policy. I’m so glad I decided to approach Otis, to tell him I’d photographed him, and to talk about his flag.

This flag had been at his side on multiple occasions, including in action at Standing Rock. A fairly worn version of Old Glory, he told me one missing white stripe from its edge had been used to make a bandage for a friend’s injury. Though it was not at Standing Rock, he implied it had happened at another protest.

Otis, probably no more than 10 years my younger and I believe of Shoshone heritage, was loaded up in his uncle’s truck in the early seventies and taken to Wounded Knee. This was his first exposure to Native American Activism. Had I previously researched what went down in February 1973, when Lacota Indians took over the town in South Dakota, I might have asked a lot more about Otis’s (and his flag’s) proximity to action on behalf of the disenfranchised.

But I did come to know what makes Otis so keenly empathetic toward the children being torn from their families under Zero Tolerance. At the age of 8 Otis was placed in an Indian Boarding School. Until last Saturday I had not fully perceived what that was all about; but I got it, recognized the pain it had inflicted upon him, in that moment as we spoke face to face. I told him I certainly could not relate on that level, that for me it’s that I have given birth, nursed a child…I cannot fathom having a child taken. As I was about to choke up at the thought of it, he leaned forward and hugged me.

Of course I took a couple more photos, this time inside a grocery store; but it is the words exchanged in this encounter of compassion that resonate in my heart.

On the day of Dr Ford’s testimony I was up at five minutes to 7 a.m. (pacific time) and proceeded to dedicate my whole day to both her and Brett’s testimony. Yes, I watched the whole thing. I did not wait till it was all over and rely on sound bites or selective commentary. I endured it all.

“Endured?”, you may ask. Humor me, please, while I explain my perspective.

I ‘m a 65 year old woman…Before watching Dr Ford’s testimony, I was already pondering the potential relevance of a blackout on Brett’s part…at the age of 17…As I truly believe it to be a logical explanation for lack of recall. I base this on my own experience with heavy (and in my case alcoholic) drinking. Alas, I did not know on that first drunken eve that my body was telling me something very important. Fortunately I was not raped. While I will never know all of what went down, still I was able to figure out who had witnessed my behavior, and I had a blurry recollection of my body being moved. To this day I remember what I was wearing. I believe I was 17. Yes, that was over 45 years ago.

Then I watched Dr Ford, keeping in mind the accusations of two other women, one of which was simultaneously prompting a frightening recollection. This life event was probably within a couple years of that initial blackout, except it did not arise from a drunken state, but rather another drug…And I had not thought about it for a very long time; but, lo and behold, smack dab in the middle of Dr Ford’s testimony, there the dam horrible thing was reminding me how much danger I was in that day so long ago. I could not tell you who the young men were in the room, yet I recall what one of them said to me, which in turn alerted me to the risk. Likewise, I have no clue what house or apartment it was, but I recall exactly how I convinced one man following me outside why he should go no further.

I was not surprised by Brett’s emphatic denials, especially given my in depth familiarity with the subject of denial, as it pertains to alcoholism and/or problem drinking. But I did find it remarkable that a candidate for the highest judicial position in the land would be so partisan, as per his pre-written statement. Also, it was noteworthy that all questions of Dr Ford (on behalf of the Republican members of the Judiciary Committee) were asked by their hired female prosecutor. Then, after one or two 5 minute segments by that same lady when it was Brett’s turn, suddenly Lindsay Graham cut loose…and the woman was apparently dismissed, and Republican men did not ask the same kind of questions their prosecutor could have asked. This was beyond odd, it showed a profound imbalance.

Yes I know that the Republican base is all for the “deconstruction of the administrative state” (as per Steve Bannon), so I get that deviations from typical hearing procedures make no difference…to them. And if I elaborated on the limited scope of the alleged background check, for that matter the likely avoidance of certain relevant issues in the preceding background checks, this would not matter to “the base”.

Why did MiMi and Pop divorce?

8/14/19: Full story still unclear. But one claim thus far suggests that Everett had an affair with the woman he hooked up with after the divorce. Also, MiMi might not have been terribly keen on sexual relations. In fact, her daughter Beverly spoke of her binding her breasts.

Did you go to the downtown Seattle Rhodes Dept Store (and/or listen to the organist Harry Reed) with MiMi? Frequency? Did you ever observe her speaking to Harry Reed, or to Harry Reed’s wife? Any other memories related to any of the above, even if they were memories passed on through family conversations? Threats made by MiMi towards Harry Reed or his wife?

Do you have any memory of a KKK photo (with or without hoods) or any other memorabilia related to KKK activity in the Pacific NW? This might not have been in reference to African Americans, but rather anti-Catholic sentiment. Have you ever heard stories of Pop having attended any meetings?

8/14/19: One comment in the affirmative regarding a KKK connection.

8/22/19: Additional affirmative comment (making a total of three in my lifetime)– yup, Everett Hawkins (aka Pop, my maternal grandfather) had some involvement with the Klan! In all my contact with him as a kid, even once I was a young adult, I never would have pictured him hanging out with the bigots. But, lo and behold, he apparently did. The irony of this revelation is that it was MiMi that exuded an anti-Catholic view. At least I never heard of Pop trashing Catholics. Additionally, I cannot fathom MiMi ever socializing with the wives of the Klan dudes. Maybe she was having a vicarious experience (likely in the 20’s) through her husband. This is all making me wonder even more about my mom’s decision to convert to Catholicism. Perhaps she was rebelling. Betcha my Granny was royally pissed!

Have you been to the Olympic Hotel (now the Fairmont) Hotel? Or heard it talked about by any family members? Have you seen photos taken there, e.g., of the Spanish Ballroom (where Aud and Pop attended a holiday event, likely in 1933, put on by the Turrell’s Shoe Store)? Did you ever hear MiMi talk about clothing she made for Audrey, e.g., a white organza dress that Audrey wore to that event?

Do you have, or have you seen photos of Turrell’s Shoe Store, which was housed in the Burke Building (which was demolished)? Any memories related to Pop working at Turrell’s? Or stories regarding the Japanese-American man who packaged items for shipment at that shoe store (in the thirties, early forties)?

Any memories of when Pop was in Adak, Alaska? What MiMi was up to while he was away?

Any memories of MiMi discussing my pre-marital sexual activity? Be honest and specific, please. (Her attitude has already been expressed in a letter to me, so no need to be shy.) Also, in regards to chastity, or the lack of it, please elaborate on any references to differences between Bev’s purity and Audrey’s. For example, did anyone ever hear MiMi talk about Audrey cheating on Roy when he was overseas?

Was anyone privy to the fact that Ferne wrote TO Roy WHEN he was overseas…regarding an indiscretion on Audrey’s part? Or that one of the times Roy beat up on Audrey was likely when he was on leave immediately following that correspondence?

Any memories (or tales of memories) regarding physical abuse inflicted by MiMi on any family members? E.g., did anyone other than Audrey (as a child) have a rag stuffed in his/her mouth? Methods of punishment to others?

How did MiMi and Tex meet? Any memories of MiMi’s behavior towards Tex’s daughter (who I believe was mentally challenged)? When MiMi resided in a home behind where Tex’s daughter lived, apparently “with” Tex, was Tex living in both structures? Was his daughter’s name Phyllis? Was she NOT allowed in MiMi’s living space?

8/14/19: Taken directly from a response to the MiMi/Phyllis/Tex question…

Mimi despised the relationship between Tex and Phyllis. It seemed like a real hatred and jealousy from my point of view. Phyllis lived with her mentally disabled husband. Mimi resented the attention Tex gave to Phyllis. Tex slept in an enclosed porch that was connected to the rear house (converted garage possibly) and Phyllis and her husband lived in the front house. Mimi’s house in the back was cutely decorated and very comfortable. She raised finches in a large cage and had a wonderful HiFi stereo system and had lot’s of classical music, mostly Ballets on cassette tapes. She loved “Tchaikovsky” and one of her favorite Ballets was “Swan Lake”.

Have you ever seen or heard of MiMi’s “poison pen letters” (Audrey’s terminology)?

Were you privy to her hand-written story, titled “Say it with Music”?

Did you ever witness, or hear about, MiMi voicing (or writing) strong thoughts regarding the following?:

Catholics and or The Pope

The Kennedys

8/14/19: Mimi hated Catholics and the Kennedys because they were Catholic. Mimi attended “Church of The Nazarene” when she lived in that little back house in Ventura. 

Marxism

True Christianity, Being born again, The Holy Spirit

Spiritual warfare

Toilet training

Punishment

Psychology

Drug addiction

Voting, Civic duty

Other?