Thank you. Here’s the thing… I am not a writer. I’m a story teller. A weird word girl. Perhaps I’m Abed, from Community, in real life. But these stories need to be told now. Women and children, vulnerable and in peril. If I say SAVE THE CHEERLEADER SAVE THE WORLD, is that a bridge too far? As someone recently said, there are trolls on both sides.
My youngest daughter hemorrhaged after childbirth and nearly died; thankfully mother and son, Edward who is ten, are doing well. She had developed an infection, probably because the doc “stripped her membranes”.
Baby Presley, would have been my son and daughter-in-law’s third child. She was missing the lower half of her body. Neither of them is well.
At age eight, my precious granddaughter, who I will call Brightstar, was raped by a thirteen year old. The little monster also allegedly molested his own sister. That is a story my middle daughter is writing.
My aunts…
Gilda, a child rape victim, who is still alive and devious at 92. (Not her real name.)
Marion was just a bad person. And her kids were mean.
Ruthann was my sorrow. One week after her third daughter was born, she suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. She passed away after a week on life support. Her 3-year old son, Jimmy preceded her in death. He died of leukemia. It’s a gut punch to think about “The Jimmy Fund” being unable to save “my Jimmy”.
Donna Marie, had epilepsy. She took an overdose of phenobarbital and her wicked husband left her to die on the living room floor. Negligent homicide in my book.
Dorothea: The Fire was Arson. She married a man twenty years her senior. She was 16. She may have been his rape victim at age 14. She had four children. She and three of them died in the fire. She was 23 at the time of her death.
And then there’s Gertrude, the whore, who is my mother. Hillbilly Hamlet. It’s ugly. (Not her real name.)
For 50 years I asked her if she had had an affair. I never called her a liar until Dad spoke from the grave. This is the abbreviated play: Dad was hospitalized in 1973 for depression. In 2020, I wrote for his hospital records. After my youngest sister was born in 1968, Dad had a vasectomy. Gertrude got pregnant by her lover, the grocer. She had a legal abortion in 1972. Dad blamed himself for a life lost. He died on September 9, 1973, in his pickup, of carbon monoxide poisoning. By Christmas, the grocer was coming to our house, sitting in my dad’s recliner. And they all lived happily ever after behind a wall of silence at Gertrude’s Unmagical Kingdom.
I’m an idiot. I only realized a couple months ago, Molly, your mother was THE GODDESS. I’m humbled to know you.
Any questions? I love you both very much. Thank you for all you do.
RICK- HELP! They are screwing with Liz. Soliciting donations on her behalf…. MESSED UP!
Dear Ones:
Thank you. Here’s the thing… I am not a writer. I’m a story teller. A weird word girl. Perhaps I’m Abed, from Community, in real life. But these stories need to be told now. Women and children, vulnerable and in peril. If I say SAVE THE CHEERLEADER SAVE THE WORLD, is that a bridge too far? As someone recently said, there are trolls on both sides.
My youngest daughter hemorrhaged after childbirth and nearly died; thankfully mother and son, Edward who is ten, are doing well. She had developed an infection, probably because the doc “stripped her membranes”.
Baby Presley, would have been my son and daughter-in-law’s third child. She was missing the lower half of her body. Neither of them is well.
At age eight, my precious granddaughter, who I will call Brightstar, was raped by a thirteen year old. The little monster also allegedly molested his own sister. That is a story my middle daughter is writing.
My aunts…
Gilda, a child rape victim, who is still alive and devious at 92. (Not her real name.)
Marion was just a bad person. And her kids were mean.
Ruthann was my sorrow. One week after her third daughter was born, she suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. She passed away after a week on life support. Her 3-year old son, Jimmy preceded her in death. He died of leukemia. It’s a gut punch to think about “The Jimmy Fund” being unable to save “my Jimmy”.
Donna Marie, had epilepsy. She took an overdose of phenobarbital and her wicked husband left her to die on the living room floor. Negligent homicide in my book.
Dorothea: The Fire was Arson. She married a man twenty years her senior. She was 16. She may have been his rape victim at age 14. She had four children. She and three of them died in the fire. She was 23 at the time of her death.
And then there’s Gertrude, the whore, who is my mother. Hillbilly Hamlet. It’s ugly. (Not her real name.)
For 50 years I asked her if she had had an affair. I never called her a liar until Dad spoke from the grave. This is the abbreviated play: Dad was hospitalized in 1973 for depression. In 2020, I wrote for his hospital records. After my youngest sister was born in 1968, Dad had a vasectomy. Gertrude got pregnant by her lover, the grocer. She had a legal abortion in 1972. Dad blamed himself for a life lost. He died on September 9, 1973, in his pickup, of carbon monoxide poisoning. By Christmas, the grocer was coming to our house, sitting in my dad’s recliner. And they all lived happily ever after behind a wall of silence at Gertrude’s Unmagical Kingdom.
I’m an idiot. I only realized a couple months ago, Molly, your mother was THE GODDESS. I’m humbled to know you.
Any questions? I love you both very much. Thank you for all you do.
Great podcast!
The true definition of irony: frozen embryos are people, but we don’t want to provide healthcare and food nutritional assistance for poor children.
Johnson: “Of course, we support IVF, we want all children to be born.”
So Johnson’s commitment to life is morally flexible since not all frozen embryos in IVF will be used and some must be discarded.
Do these people even under science? Life under their obtuse and parochial beliefs, is wherever they tell us it is; science be damned!…:)
And compassion.
I listened yesterday. Great stuff!