A Glenn Hartman Salute

September 4th, 2014

MAINglennBLOG
REMEMBERING A BROTHER
Middle Child Syndrome
Everyone has their own favorite personal stories of Glenn. The fifth born, third son of George and Joan Hartman. Everyone remembers his mischievous smile, his happy laugh, his love of life, his beautiful children and his flirtations with the law and his health. He was born into a home already buzzing with four young children. During his early childhood, five more siblings appeared after him. Each needing attention and care. To say his life wasn’t hectic from day one is quite an understatement. As all young kids crave attention and love, maybe there wasn’t enough to go around some days. Sometimes you can get lost in a crowd. Sometimes your crying isn’t heard. So you trudge on to survive and always find a way. We were a big family getting bigger but we never failed each other. Our older brothers and especially sisters took care of things. We were never told or taught to do this, we just did it instinctively.
As the third boy in the loud home he followed Greg and I with droopy diaper everywhere. Pacifier stuck in his face, his big brown curious eyes searching for leadership. Early in life Glenn caught the blame for all the little things that went array in the crowded household. Thus the famous cry of “Glenn did it! Glenn did it” appeared and remained with him for the rest of his life. Somebody drank all the pickle juice out of the pickle jar? Glenn did it! Someone took my teddy bear and threw it out of the top bedroom window? Glenn did it! Somebody drew magic marker all over the wall? Glenn did it! It had gotten so that almost all the awkward accusations in a home filled with accusations could safely disappear with the magic phrase “Glenn did it!”
Glenn Did do it
Many years down the road after we all had moved out and mom sold the house in 1985, I still took solace in this verbal escape. If I woke up with a hangover, or dropped a full glass of milk, the Giants losing an important (or any) game, a car accident, my divorce-were all met with outcries of “Glenn did it!”
Personally for me, I was very close to Glenn early in his life but “lost” him after I got sober and he moved to Florida to be with his two younger brothers. Glenn took me to my very first AA meeting at Perth Amboy hospital. This was during one of his early stints of attempting to clean up his act. I just remember sitting there next to him scared, but listening. Glenn was always way more open and sociable then me. He was shaking hands and introducing me to other recovering drunks. When the meeting was over, or so I thought, the entire room stood up. I was attempting to leave when my brother Glenn grabbed my hand. The strange man on the other side of me grabbed my other hand. The leader of the meeting called out: “Who’s Father?” and everyone recited the prayer .. “Our Father, who art in heaven…” And it was in that one powerful moment. in a room full of sick people…powerless people…all calling to a higher power together…that I knew this was where I belonged. Glenn took me to a great place and although it took me years after that to finally “get it” ..to finally get sober, I never forgot my first meeting with my brother Glenn.

For many years it was the three Hartman boys together in Florida.

For many years it was the three Hartman boys together in Florida.

Glenn also extracted me from a 8 year hiatus in a warehouse job painfully going nowhere. He enticed me with the Teamsters Union and really good health benefits. In those days of being twenty-something year olds, I was petrified of people and change, but the thought of finally fixing my chipped front teeth was worth a “risky” job change. My two front teeth were severely chipped when I was 7 while playing a game called Hot Potato, Glenn, yes Glenn actually did do it, threw the bright red clicking-timer hot potato into my mouth.
Right in the kisser

Right in the kisser

Dad promised he would have them fixed “when your teeth fully grow in” but he died. Mom never even considered it when getting food on the table was a more important matter. So my adolescents was a living hell. Afraid to smile. Petrified to talk. I learned to speak with my upper lip closed or my hand in front of my face. But Glenn did it! He got me a great job with more money, overtime and immediate health benefits. I wasn’t at this job for one week before I was sitting unconscious in a dentist chair having my front two teeth grinded down for caps! The thousands of dollars it cost were picked up by the Teamsters. I was a totally new person after that and I owed it all to Glenn.
On The Beach
I have so many wonderful memories of my little brother Glenn. Going to Great Adventure to see Southside Jonny And The Asbury Jukes. The crowd exploding when they sang “On The Beach” and how years and years later, we still sang that song to each other. There were so many times it was just him and I. In Washington Square Park in the village singing along to “Ripple” with a street musician. New York City. A rented room in a boarding house at Belmar beach.
A Hard Worker
Glenn was also responsible for getting me a side job at Min Goldblatt catering company. It was there that I witnessed his true strong Hartman work ethic and dependability. He had also got some of our friends jobs here. It was here that Glenn began to blossom into an excellent cook. Everyone remembers his favorite dishes. Mine was his seafood gumbo. He catered his own wedding.
Lost
Glenns later years became so struggled that it hurt to talk with him. His long bouts in jails and hospitals, what could we do? His letters from jail were filled with colorful sometimes religious art.
We will always miss you

We will always miss you

During one stay at a Kentucky prison, I remember he was in endless physical pain. He kept complaining how it hurt all the time to do anything and the people at the jail did NOTHING. Carol Dooley became engrossed with this and called the prison several times. Consoled Glenn on the phone. Only by Carols constant nagging did Glenn finally get the attention he needed. It had gotten so bad that he was actually taken from the jail admitted to the hospital.
As time went on, Glenns health grew worse. His addictions never dimmed. He had created a hell on earth. But in his daily struggles he was a loving dad and grandfather. He paid back child support. He was blessed with random visits with his children. The running family joke with Glenn was that he would out-live us all. He had nine lives like a cat. But finally one hot Summer day in our sisters Bonnies basement where she cared for him, he never woke up. He didn’t die in a hospital, nursing home, prison or on the street. I salute Bonnie and Paul for that. For, as hard as it was, when nobody else wanted him, or could afford him, they took him in. He was needy and difficult but we thank them for giving him the dignity of passing on to a world far away from this hell he lived in with some respect.
I salute you my brother Glenn

I salute you my brother Glenn


You were a good man that fought an unrelenting attack of demons. I salute you. I look forward to mingling with you on the other side and being connected together in the tapestry. I salute you. I love you. To Bonnie and Paul for most recently taking him under their wing and taking care of him, I salute you.
To everyone in the family that tried to help him. that put up with him, that felt like they had lost him but never gave up hope, I salute you.
All Together Now!
To Grant, for taking care of Greg after his stroke and most recently to Ann and Gary for taking care of Greg every single damn day. For making sure he takes his meds, for bathing and feeding him, I salute you. To Barb, Bernadette and Belinda I salute you for driving halfway across the eastern USA to meet in the middle so that our younger cousins can spend a week or so together. For sharing your resources and sitting down at every single school play and event…for swimming and field trips, stories, love and care..I salute you! For everyone trying to be the glue of the family..for keeping us together with social media, photos, and blogs and text messages and phone calls. I salute all the prayers we offer each other in sickness and in health. In death and new life. In addiction and cure. Thank you for huddling together as The Mighty Ten always and remembering where we all came from and where we are going.
I salute the Hartmans.

Envelope Art

September 3rd, 2014

Click on above art for full view then hit back to go back to gallery.
Glenn was just like his mom. He was a letter writer. Our brother spent more than half his life in jail. He spent a lot of that time drawing with pencil, crayon, pen or anything he could get his hands on. Sometimes they wouldn’t give them paper or pencils. Glenn told me he would make “ink” with water and different colored M&N’s. His letters were filled with a lot of raw emotion and sometimes hope. Most times he knew he didn’t belong where he was. He was typically sorry and frustrated at his actions yet he always ended up in the same place. These are just a few of the many envelopes he drew and colored on before he sent one of his letters. Glenn was very talented with a pencil or magic marker. He was 100% self taught. Although a lot of his work is serious and very spiritual, Glenn had an outright wicked sense of humor. He could laugh at himself and the predicaments that he got into. He met a lot of people in jail and hospitals that were in despair yet he always maintained a pretty positive attitude. Glenn also had a great memory. He was filled with detailed family memories. Many times he surprised me with his outlook and keen story telling.

Glenn Hartman 10-26-62 to 8-17-14

August 26th, 2014

BLGglennCollage

photos found on my phone

May 23rd, 2014

Gill-go-round

April 1st, 2014

headerForGillBlog
In this months PTMYT (April 2014) another old mysterious Gill photo taken on Austin street in Westfield NJ. (probably). This photo had the same kind of look and feel of another old Gill photo mentioned in a previous BLOG POST.

This was taken much earlier than the above photo based on the height of Joan alone.

This was taken much earlier than the above photo based on the height of Joan alone.

Definitely not from the same day at all. Maybe some of the same people but several years earlier. Our grandmother May Gill was born in 1915 to John Coleman Rosecrans and Maude L. Rosecrans. May died at a very young age of only 44. She died suddenly and shockingly of a heart attack at home. There have been rumors flung about about her death being suspicious based on several “things told to me”.
1. The fiery relationship she had with her husband Fredrick, a Westfield NJ cop.
2. The decision by husband to have NO autopsy and a quick burial.
3. A suddenly new relationship by husband with a new woman only a few weeks after funeral.
So yeah, ha ha, secret family scandal. May Gill was poisoned by her cop husband. None of this has ever been proven. Nor will it ever be. I’m not exhuming the grave of the grandmother I never saw and I certainly don’t want to see what she looks like now. Rest in peace everyone involved.

One thing I really ponder on now, was that May had THREE brothers and SIX sisters! So that big family thing isn’t just a Hartman trend? So there were NINE aunts and uncles that we also never really met or saw. I might have been too young to remember even if I did meet them. Her three children, Joan, Fred and Carol told me Grandma Gill was a nice woman. That’s all I remember. Another story was that when she pooped, her kids would all go in the bathroom with her and she would tell stories. She was known as a very kind woman in her job at Westfield High School where she was a cook for nine years. Her death at 44 was so early that she only had two grandchildren when she passed away, Barb and Beverly. She would have been surprised if she hung around.

Mrs. Fredrick Gill Obituary. CLICK to READ

Mrs. Fredrick Gill Obituary.
CLICK to READ

So my curiosity remains at who is who in the top photo. At this point I’m going out on a limb to assume that most or all of them are her siblings.
Starting from left, John Rosecrans Jr, May Gill, sister, another brother (maybe Fredrick Rosecrans with wife OR another sister. Fred Gill Sr is next and he is holding a little baby Caroline our aunt. At the end the only thing I can say here is “Get a freaking room.”
Of course in the first row is Joan Gill (our mother) and Fred Gill Jr our uncle. He is wearing an official cap of some sort. This stirred up even more curiosity in me. I do know that we have a great uncle that was lost in a submarine during WWII. I am assuming this photo was taken around 1940-2. So there was a war going on when this was taken. That man in the middle appears to be wearing dress military uniform. So I am assuming that the cap our uncle Fred is playing with is actually from that guy in the center of the photo. I did a google image search on Navy caps used during World War 2. Not surprisingly something very similar came up. It might be an officers cap from Navy.
So is this the guy that was never found on a sunken submarine in WWII??? Sure enough I found a web site that listed every submarine and their crew member LOST during WWII. I actually clicked on every submarine and checked for the sir name Gill. I did find one- on January 24, 1942 the submarine USS S-26 went down BUT three men survived. The mans name TMC Joseph Mathew Gill was goggled and as it turns out he is from Alabama and not New Jersey.

The only other things I think of is that great uncle from the Navy was actually a Rosecrans and not a Gill. This is not the way I remember it being told to me. This WWII hero was definitely named GILL. OR maybe that is a fireman or policemen uniform. It is a fact that Mays father was indeed the Cheif of the Westfield NJ police force which is exactly how our grandfather Fredrick Gill got the job.

Yet another Rosecrans search, I found in the Westfield Leader newspaper (bottom left middle article) that Mays brother, Windsor was promoted to a Lieut. in the National Guard. But this was July 1927. (yet still possible, that might be a captains cap after 13+ years!)

So this is how it goes with web research on the amazing and still growing world wide web. I was just trying to find out some names. People that have long passed on. People that were “somehow” related to our mothers and fathers. This spark of a connection in life that electrifies our existence. Like I said, if I had this interest even before Carol or Joan died, I would have had all the answers and names and probably a few cool stories too.

May sandwiched by brother and sister. Big family love.

May sandwiched by brother and sister. Big family love.


Dad and baby daughter. Caroline.

Dad and baby daughter. Caroline.


Sister and brother. Joan and Fred.

Sister and brother. Joan and Fred.


lovers

writers BLOck

January 8th, 2014

vigil by the deep lagoons
cRazy Indian colors:
glops
of paint/
freshDripping
o
n
her
scratched canvas
rich browns. If
landscapes could dream and poetry
could walk
the earth woul>dn’t be crippled with
leafy green disappointment. Gracious
shadows slowly unroll across the floor
the artist drinks a quart of fear
chanGes the oil
grows a salaD
builds a lego castle. Mops
the Kitchen floor with gasoline
lights a cigarette
calls the boss and gives
a ten year notice
oF retirement

neonduskjanuary820139:51am

have a haPPy ChristMAS and a bRAVE new YEAR !

December 24th, 2013

splitTONE
I recently wrote about lack of a total family photo together but this comes close. From Photos That Make You Think December 2006 a photo probably taken by Mom in the early eighties or closer to the last year in Whitman street.
I am grateful that our Christmas’s were magical. Mom and Dad made sure of that. I am sure that we too, as adults and parents have also made sure that we provided magical holidays for our children too. I know personally for me, there was no bigger day, no bigger anticipation then waking up Christmas morning. For most of my childhood I shared a bunk bed with my brother Gregory. I always slept on the top and he on the bottom. Although we couldn’t see each other, we talked, laughed and even sang songs long into the dark night.

1976 SEARS Wish Book

1976 SEARS Wish Book

There were many times we were visited by Mom or Dad with a stern warning to “Shut up and go to sleep!” and this warning usually required several revisits. We never took Mom seriously, she was a lightweight with discipline. But if the heavy footsteps of dad started coming up the stairs we were under the covers and pretending to sleep in seconds.
Christmas time was the Sears “Wish Book” which made the rounds to everyone with a clean sheet of loose leaf paper and a pen. We would scribble our “wishes” and pass the book on. We were generously entitled to “One BIG thing and two SMALL things” and besides that, there were always extras thrown about under the tree. Dad and mom would be up all night Christmas eve assembling, arranging and trying their best to be quiet. I remember one Christmas arriving at the top of the stairs at probably 5AM and the sight below was absolutely amazing. There was not one open space. The entire living room was just covered with toys and games. It is one of those childhood visions that remain embedded in my memory.
In true holiday spirit, Mom carried on the expensive Christmas tradition after Dad died and we never really lost the “magic” A tip of the hat to Gene Kaufmann and Danny Braza for helping out in the hard work on Christmas eve’s long nights.
So looking back, I wonder about this “magic”. Was it pure materialism? Was it the TV shows, music and decorations (we always had a real tree) that smothered us for a month? Was it just being part of a huge family filled with hope and love? Was it all of the above? Did we lose focus, like most of the world on what the birth of Jesus Christ really means? As we get older we change. We become a little less selfish when we become parents. Always a source for inspiration, I read something on Facebook that many people agree with today: “I think that as you get older your Christmas list gets smaller and the things you really want for the holidays can’t be bought.”
On the left side of the tree in the above photo: Brenda and Bev.

On the left side of the tree in the above photo: Brenda and Bev.

Gettysburg 1970

December 6th, 2013
July 1970 11 months before his death, Dad "pulls" and Brenda resists.

July 1970 11 months before his death, Dad “pulls” and Brenda resists.

two score and three years ago our father, full of determination and
curiosity gathered his young family into a green Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser
and journeyed 200 miles southwest into the belly of American history,
the fields of Civil War death, the tourist traps the land of hotels and

cyan colored swimming pools. The fierce fighting for the window seats
as mom chain-smoked Viceroys with windows up, AC on, seatbelt s off,
FM radio tuned to rock classics of the day “Which Way Ya Going Billy?”
Poppy Family,”In the Summertime”by Mungo Jerry,”Hey There Lonely Girl”

by Eddie Holman, The Hollies with “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother”
this station wagon featured speakers in the back seat panels, and
this was modern day coolness unheard of in the day. We breezed thru
Interstate 76 pass the Esso billboards and Roadside America invitations

Bushkill Falls, Crystal Cave, the Amish in Lancaster, covered bridges, and
the Hershey Factory. So it was, we as a family took our one and only
vacation and not everyone was invited and some invited guests didn’t
want to come! If you were clad in diapers than you stayed home

with Mrs. Askew. Beverly was lost in teenage phone world and requested
to be left alone forever. Against her will she was dragged into the
overcrowded station wagon and we endured the three hour struggle
into the sweet beauty of Pennsylvania’s mountains with our mighty V8

spectacular blue skies, puffy white clouds, fields of lazy cows and
a dreary mundane depression that forever lurks in these small towns.
Their shops, schools and slow walking slow talking locals with accents.
We stopped once for 36 cents a gallon gas as Apollo nine flew hundreds

!969 Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser Wagon

!969 Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser Wagon


of miles overhead and the Vietnam War raged on overseas.Just being in a
hotel is the vacation.Soda and candy vending machines.Running down
hallways screaming and taking the elevator up and then down, over and
over Dad sitting in the chair smoking a cigar, planning our days with

maps and brochures the TV blaring,nobody watching Jumping on the bed
suddenly,how many glass displays of dug up bullets, marble statues of
men on horses, riffles hanging on walls, hundreds of B&W photos
of dead men can one person view? This was an endless history class in

the hot Summer sun.It wasn’t my fault I was a kid with different ideas of
adventure and that by the third day of endless hundred year old history
I had enough and made it my point to say so. Somewhere in between
Little Round Top and Devils Den, my whining had warranted a beating

I was sent to the car crying On the way home this hungry family did
breakfast and dad ordered pancakes for all which finally came stacked
bigger than anything we had ever seen. Psychology won and just vision
had made us full. Dad paid the bill shaking his head at the biggest waste

of money and food and Brenda picked up her “underbrella” and we left
The longer drive home hypnotized sleep. Dad the accountant adds
expenses in his head. It wasn’t a vacation it was an education he later
said. And as we finally pulled into the concrete driveway I knew that

if I became a dad, my kids would be riding roller coasters on our
vacations.We would take luxury ships and planes to get there. Never
long lines, hot sun, ‘education’ or hours to get there but then if I did
would my future son ever write a memory poem such as this?

Because she is missing, Bev probably took this photo. Lost tourist.

Because she is missing, Bev probably took this photo. Lost tourist.

All we are, is all we will ever be.

December 5th, 2013
moon and sun

moon and sun

I’d like to bring you back again and see if you changed your mind about death. Brenda called “SHOTGUN!” as my sisters ran to my car. Beverly just smiled and elegantly squeezed her long lean body into the crowded back seat of my small Kia Reo.
“On my God, it’s been SO long!” she said.
Brenda popped into the front seat and was so excited she was just making noises.
“Put your seat belts on”, I said as I started the engine
I was a little surprised when they listened to me because I didn’t know what to expect. Death can do strange things to people, I thought.
I put the car in gear and they both squealed simultaneously.
“Stop and get cigarettes!” Beverly yelled from the back.
“Oh yeah, Georgie, do THAT!”, Brenda chimed in.
Oh what the hell, I thought I spent almost $17.00 for two packs.
“Holy crap!” Bev said. “They were three bucks last time I remember. John Karst used to always get them for me.”
So I drove and they smoked. We drove and we drove all around New Jersey. Carteret, Rahway, Linden and Perth Amboy. We stopped for Taylor ham and cheese at Burger Express drive-in, TWICE. I picked up Wise potato chips in Linden and Slim Jims at a Krausers along with more cigarettes. We drove past Bevs old haunts including Grandma Wilski’s house in Linden. We got out of the car on Whitman street and walked outside around the old abandoned house we used to live in. When I told Beverly that one of her Persian cats had already out-lived her by 13 years she blurted, “Nooooo Waaaay!”
Beverly then started to cry as she lit another cigarette but I just let that moment go by. There has to be a lot of emotion coming back from a “deep sleep” after so long. You realize that life doesn’t stop when you do, it’s just keeps going on and on and on.
With windows down to let out the smoke and the constant ramblings and memories of my sisters words, it soon started to get dark out. We are watching time pass but with no anxiety and no attempt to alter the past or present.
Brenda and Beverly asked me question after question. Before I could finish answering one, there was another or a round of laughter. Everything had changed and was “funny looking.”
“I thought there would be flying cars by now, Butch. Remember the Jetsons? Is that still on?”
I finally took my iPhone out of my coat pocket and to their amazement I showed them how it worked as we parked in Carteret Shopping Center for more Slim Jims. They fought over the phone but Brenda eventually won because there were photos of Becca and Brooke all over Facebook. Bev took a long deep drag on her cigarette and as smoke flowed out of her mouth she asked, “So everyone has one of these things?” pointing to the phone.
I told her technology was getting out of control and since she had been gone the longest, she was the most amazed by current life.
“Oh my God George. TAKE ME TO OHIO RIGHT NOW!” Brenda barked as she stared open-mouthed at the photos of her kids on my phone.
I took the navigator out of the glove compartment and plugged it into the dash. “Another phone thing?” Beverly asked?
“No, this thing will tell and show us how to get to Ohio.”
“Whatever!” Bev says shaking her head. “So mom died a year after me?, were people sad at my funeral?, who came?, I don’t remember the coma. did you tell Danny Braza??”
The questions went on and I answered the best that I could and sometimes I didn’t know or I lied. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I wasn’t afraid. Any fear was totally overwhelmed by seeing them sitting in my car. They seemed young, healthy, full of vigor and curiosity. I think life is a good thing where they come from. A Gift. They seemed to have missed being here but they also had nothing to say about where they had been. “It’s such a wonderful place. I do miss it already.” was all I got out of Brenda at one point. But they were only interested in this moment. Driving around in my car. They both had a strange glow to them and their eyes were almost wild with excitement.
In front of us has we drove West on Interstate 80, the sun was blazing and clouds were turning into a molten lava of oranges and reds. When I pointed at the sunset in front of us and said “Look at that!” they seemed uninterested as if they had seen things much more beautiful while they were away. It was at this point I felt a small tug on my existence here with them. Something was happening. Something weird.
Brenda was showing Bev a photo of Brooke in a high school play when a tingling sensation in my arm shook me, I heard Brenda’s crazy laugh and looked over at the passenger seat and it was only my phone. My arm hurt. It hurt bad. I looked in the rear view mirror for Beverly and she was gone too. The fog was lifting. No, it can’t be. Was it? My arm is under my body and it is asleep. The fog is lifting quicker as the tingles in my arm stir me back into reality. No, no no. It was a dream? A DREAM??
“Look at that sunset sisters!” I yelled as I tried to get back to where I was. I didn’t want to leave. Now it feels like cob webs are all over me. My eyes are crusty. There is droll all over my chin. Oh my gosh. I was out of it. One of those rare deep sleeps. I remembered everything. My entire day driving with them. It seemed so real. I wanted to go back. We never got pizza. We never made it to Ohio.

As I was saying, the moon was orange…

November 21st, 2013

…thru the pine trees of our camp site. It felt like we were a million miles from New Jersey but there we were right squat in the middle of it. In the middle of what seemed to be nowhere. You couldn’t hear the turnpike screaming here and we weren’t under a direct 747 plane route to Newark. The only sounds we heard here was the crackling of a fire, beers popping open and our dog barking in the wind. These were the days, my friend. I don’t remember who discovered this “hidden” dirt road to Farrington Lake (Stuff or Glenn?) but it was the greatest discovery since rubber-coated baseballs. We drifted here often to get away. To drink, to sleep in tents, to fish and to just basically be crazy kids. I have some great memories (at least what I hazily remember anyway) of coming here on windy Fall days or blazing Summers. Into the cool shade of pines. Swimming in the cold lake. Cooking off the fire. Drinking and laughing into the late hours of darkness. We were men (and dog) living off the land (ha ha) and surviving the wilderness (yeah right)
About this photo: courtesy of Bonnie Ludwig Matthias on Facebook. This is actually a photo of a photo and I loved it the second I saw it. Wish there were more photos of the Farrington Lake era.

Two brothers and their dog.

Two brothers and their dog.

Other notes:
-Perhaps it’s part of our basic nature to drift into believing that we have a handle on life. Perhaps we think we’re all so experienced that we have seen it all, know it all and that nothing that comes our way anymore is shocking. And then someone you love dies.

-My awkwardness is at an Olympic level. I stumble into most rooms looking for a corner to hide. Except at work. I’m a quiet T-Rex that can explode in hunger at any given time.

-Latest discoveries: I’m over-emotionally available, have a strange brain and like it. I enjoy taking part in life for the most part, don’t we all? If you think you have a “miserable” life just stay in touch with the news and if you can’t radiate one OUNCE of gratitude from that then you probably won’t get along with anyone and certainly not me. Children with cancer, especially RARE cancer is seemingly becoming an epidemic. Do you ever really wonder what is in our food and milk after humans and technology get their hands on it? Do you believe that at the turn of the century and the industrial revolution has anything to do with this? Back then it was “OK” to dump millions of tons of toxins in the rivers and oceans and air. Do you think all of that has just gone away? Do you think we have completely stopped dumping on Mother Earth?

BLOGdissappearLikesmoke-With large families being so rare these days, I’m always asked how my mother did it? You have to give her tons of credit but do you mention the drinking, shoplifting and total loss of control? Some people just aren’t cut out to be the disciplinarian. Being part of such a large family means you always have someone to play with, but privacy is scarce. We had more bunk beds then a submarine. It makes me sick of what becomes a reality TV show these days. Anything and everything. While some can be interesting and educational most of them and 90% of TV is just pure trash anyway. If they set up a few cameras in Whitman street during our peak, I’m not sure it would sell. Some of our neighbors were pretty interested in our life. I remember being watched with an odd eye a lot as a kid playing in the yard or cars driving by slow to take a gander at the bizarre Brady bunch after Ed and his kids moved in. There were always haters but there were some that loved us. Some that loved us so much, that they actually became family. We took in anybody. Mom was like that after dad died. Hey we have ten kids but Bevs boyfriend moved in and friends slept over for days upon days turning into weeks.

-It isn’t hard to learn how to breathe more properly Deep breathing can be very relaxing, it reduces stress and is a wonderful way to get in touch with our body and our very self.

-Nothing can make people feel they have a purpose in life, like having children.
I am worried about what I do not know. There is too much of that. I don’t live with my kids. What is really happening? What happened?

Before Halloween became yet ANOTHER American made money making extravaganza there were very limited Oct 31 decorations. This cat is a huge part of my childhood.

Before Halloween became yet ANOTHER American made money making extravaganza there were very limited Oct 31 decorations. This cat is a huge part of my childhood.

Yes, that day of regret has finally arrived like I knew it would. I gave everything I owned and MORE in the trust that it would work out for their benefit.
I knew when they were just so young, and there was never a pet dog and worse thing ever, when I pulled up in front of the house on Oct. 31 to pick them up, there were never any Halloween decorations.
Children without a real home, will always seek a real home. What is a real home? The definition can vary, but when sickness and phobias create an unhealthy environment, then you can be left with no warmth. Warmth in a home can consist of many wonderful things. -Paintings and photos hanging on the wall. -A crowded refrigerator full of food and healthy snacks. -A crowded refrigerator door filled with magnets memories and fun. -A functioning TV. -An internet connection and family computer. -A comfortable positive environment. -Never worrying about losing your home to financial ignorance. -A dog with a wagging tail or a purring cat. -Halloween decorations.

CONCLUSIONS:
1. .Just sit & observe. You’ll learn a lot.
2. Before you get married, spend one year living together first.
3. The best things happen unexpectedly.
4. Never trust coffee that isn’t coffee flavored.
5. Go camping once a year.
6. Take a few deep breaths daily.