Email sent to Lynne Hoskins this evening(who emailed me asking when I was picking up my things and had her attorney LOCATE and contact my lawyer recently):
I have been told your lawyers wish to serve me with eviction papers. Don't bother, as I "evicted" myself from your house after you illegally locked me out and then threatened to do it again, and refused full rent on its face.
I have already talked to more than one attorney who encourages me to file for damages in small claims.
As for my things, you may leave them in a safe and dry place outside of your residence, or indicate some other place where I may pick them up, without harassment.
The fact that I have so long avoided going back to your house is an indicator of the alarm you inspired by your actions, which were extreme and done in collaboration with your husband.
Let me know where my things will be, so I may pick them up.
If I were you, I would either sell your house, and not bother with the roommates, or stay in your house, and prevent yet another of your marriage's from falling apart altogether.
Cameo
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
TTSOML #50: Native American Burial Ground At Mt. Angel Abbey
I did some research about which Native American tribes were in the area where the Mt. Angel cemetary and Abbey were built. I knew something about Native American rights to repatriation of their land, especially burial sites. If a burial site is discovered, typically, it goes back to the tribe. I couldn't imagine this happening to a Catholic monastery but I wondered what was going on.
If Br. Ansgar had told me there was ancient Indian burial ground there, it was true. He wouldn't have lied to me about this, because he was proud to tell me he'd lied to someone ELSE about this matter, and how he had concealed the fact. He said someone came to the Abbey inquiring about this, and that he'd told them no. He then did the research, going through some old documents at the Abbey (I don't know where) and he discovered it was TRUE.
The Abbey had been built on sacred burial ground and their monks were buried on top of the Native Americans.
I contacted a tribe about this and he was concerned. He said he called the Abbey and first the Abbot told him no, this wasn't true, there was no sacred anything. Then, he called again, and the Abbot said there HAD been a Native American presence on that mountain, but that it was simply a holy "site" where they would go to pray, and NOT a "burial ground". Both the tribesman I talked to, and I, thought this was odd that he changed his story.
Then I contacted a federal group on the East Coast, which handled Native American affairs, and asked them. I figured they might know but they said they wouldn't be able to tell me if they did, because of "grave robbers".
A tribe from Oregon contacted me, telling me THEY were already in a working agreement with the Abbey about this matter and that it was their land, but I thought it was odd the OTHER tribe believed this to be their former territory and didn't know anything about it.
I knew, from a class I had taken in college, before I ever met the monks, that according to case law, Native American burial ground is a big deal, and it is usually returned to the tribe. I knew I had not misunderstood Br. Ansgar.
I later went to the Mt. Angel library--not the Abbey library, but the public library downtown and found a book with photos of large rocks as headstones on the mountain where the Abbey was, and there was information about how it had been occupied by a Native American tribe until a Catholic group moved into town and built a monastery. It was right there in this book. I'm pretty sure, but don't remember with certainty, that one of the cornerstones of the Abbey had been one of the sacred Native American stones that were on the mountain.
I don't know if the Abbey had to get their lawyers involved in discussions with tribes after I made my calls and told the tribes, or what. I imagine they did but I don't know what the outcome was.
I decided I had done what I felt was right--I passed on the information to tribes I thought were interested and that was all I could do.
If Br. Ansgar had told me there was ancient Indian burial ground there, it was true. He wouldn't have lied to me about this, because he was proud to tell me he'd lied to someone ELSE about this matter, and how he had concealed the fact. He said someone came to the Abbey inquiring about this, and that he'd told them no. He then did the research, going through some old documents at the Abbey (I don't know where) and he discovered it was TRUE.
The Abbey had been built on sacred burial ground and their monks were buried on top of the Native Americans.
I contacted a tribe about this and he was concerned. He said he called the Abbey and first the Abbot told him no, this wasn't true, there was no sacred anything. Then, he called again, and the Abbot said there HAD been a Native American presence on that mountain, but that it was simply a holy "site" where they would go to pray, and NOT a "burial ground". Both the tribesman I talked to, and I, thought this was odd that he changed his story.
Then I contacted a federal group on the East Coast, which handled Native American affairs, and asked them. I figured they might know but they said they wouldn't be able to tell me if they did, because of "grave robbers".
A tribe from Oregon contacted me, telling me THEY were already in a working agreement with the Abbey about this matter and that it was their land, but I thought it was odd the OTHER tribe believed this to be their former territory and didn't know anything about it.
I knew, from a class I had taken in college, before I ever met the monks, that according to case law, Native American burial ground is a big deal, and it is usually returned to the tribe. I knew I had not misunderstood Br. Ansgar.
I later went to the Mt. Angel library--not the Abbey library, but the public library downtown and found a book with photos of large rocks as headstones on the mountain where the Abbey was, and there was information about how it had been occupied by a Native American tribe until a Catholic group moved into town and built a monastery. It was right there in this book. I'm pretty sure, but don't remember with certainty, that one of the cornerstones of the Abbey had been one of the sacred Native American stones that were on the mountain.
I don't know if the Abbey had to get their lawyers involved in discussions with tribes after I made my calls and told the tribes, or what. I imagine they did but I don't know what the outcome was.
I decided I had done what I felt was right--I passed on the information to tribes I thought were interested and that was all I could do.
TTSOML #49: Assault By Mt. Angel Abbey Priest
After I found out the "chapel" in the woods was a shack with a bed, I sent an email letting the Abbot know I'd made the discovery.
I went to the next church service at the Abbey, thinking I would just sit there, and let them see me, period, knowing I KNEW they had been lying. I wasn't trying to cause problems, and I'd already been harassed by them and reported to police for nothing. So I guess I thought if someone saw me, maybe they'd feel guilty and atone and fix the situation. I was so wrong...again.
I sat there and the monks filed in and took their places in the choir booths. The Abbot was nudging Br. Ansgar again and they whispered to eachother and laughed at me. I was upset by this but didn't show it. I just sat there.
I was sitting only one or two rows from the front. The other people in the chapel sat at least 6 rows behind me. There was quite a distance between us.
A priest who had filed in, glared with rage when he saw me. It wasn't the Abbot, or anyone I knew personally. I still don't know who he was, but I could identify him with a photo. He said some prayer and then took a long stick (the one for sprinkling people with water) and walked directly up to me. There was no one else sitting next to me, or directly behind me. He yanked the stick down, so that the top of it was at my knee level. With this force, I was doused head-to-toe with water.
It wasn't a "sprinkling". I'd been sprinkled with "holy water" before, and when a priest does that, they tap the stick out above the heads and a spray goes forth. This was a deliberate attempt to soak me, and the stick was yanked all the way down, almost to the ground, which sent water flying all over me. I was soaked, and yet so shocked, I didn't move. I was frozen for a minute. I heard a gasp by the people in the congregation behind me.
I had to take my glasses off to see out of them. They were covered in water. My face was wet, hair was wet, and my shirt and pants were wet. I almost burst into tears on the spot, and then when I looked up I saw Abbot Nathan Zodrow smirking at me. This smirk changed my sadness and humiliation into determination not to let them see me cry.
I stood up, and I said in a calm but firm voice, clearly: "You're hypocrites." I didn't yell, and didn't need to yell. The whole church was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. I didn't yell "YOU hypocrites" as the Willamette Week changed it to. I simply said, "You're hypocrites", and then I turned around and walked straight out.
I then began to cry, tears streaming down my face. I drove down the hill, and an officer was going up the hill and I waved him down and told him what had just happened. He told me what had been done to me fit the criminal statute for "assault" in the something or other. He could see I was still wet from the dousing. He said he wanted to press charges, and then later he told me his superior had told him not to. But he told me I had a civil claim.
He went up to the Abbey, got their lie that I was the one disturbing the peace, and said they had asked him to "trespass" me from their property. Which means, they ask you not to go on their property again. I was fine with that, and I never violated their request.
I did get an email from Josef, the librarian I had helped at the library, with him insinuating I had stolen a book from them. I was shocked by this and said I most certaintly did NOT and had not even checked out, I think, the book in question. Then, when I asked him if he would testify on my behalf as to what I had told him was happening with Br. Ansgar and Fr. Joachim, and his observations of me in the library, he wrote to me and begged me not to bring him into it. He knew what the truth was, but he didn't want to speak against the church. He cited his old age.
So that was how I was "banned" from the Mt. Angel Abbey. It wasn't because I did anything wrong. The Willamette Week quoted the Abbey officials as saying dramatically it was the only time they'd ever had to "ban" anyone in their entire history, making me sound like a crazy lunatic. They had assaulted me, or one of their priests had, in a church service, and everyone saw it, and then they tried to say I was the one doing something wrong.
I was never on their property protesting, or harassing anyone, or being a nuisance, or putting up signs. I was never given a citation for doing anything on their property. I was banned purely after one of their priests had assaulted me and they tried to make me look bad.
I later found out, from a City Hall employee, that the Abbey's claim I had been the only one to ever be "banned" was a lie in and of itself. She told me the Mt. Angel Abbey had "banned" a lot of people from their property, and that there was record of it and it was common knowledge. She didn't know why they were trying to make me out to be the stand-out.
So they lied, and then they lied again.
No one has ever apologized, once, for anything. They've only tried to coerce me into confidentiality agreements to never tell my story, in exchange for money, and have used the media and police against me for their own gain.
I swear to God this is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Every single one of these "true story of my life" (TTSOML) posts is true and I have no reason to lie. I never had a "revenge" motive because I was the one who broke up with Ansgar more than once, and went to priests about it for help, and I have letters to prove it.
I hope anyone reading this, who has had something similar happen to them, will feel free to contact me. I also hope what was done to me doesn't scare other women and men from coming forward who were also abused.
I went to the next church service at the Abbey, thinking I would just sit there, and let them see me, period, knowing I KNEW they had been lying. I wasn't trying to cause problems, and I'd already been harassed by them and reported to police for nothing. So I guess I thought if someone saw me, maybe they'd feel guilty and atone and fix the situation. I was so wrong...again.
I sat there and the monks filed in and took their places in the choir booths. The Abbot was nudging Br. Ansgar again and they whispered to eachother and laughed at me. I was upset by this but didn't show it. I just sat there.
I was sitting only one or two rows from the front. The other people in the chapel sat at least 6 rows behind me. There was quite a distance between us.
A priest who had filed in, glared with rage when he saw me. It wasn't the Abbot, or anyone I knew personally. I still don't know who he was, but I could identify him with a photo. He said some prayer and then took a long stick (the one for sprinkling people with water) and walked directly up to me. There was no one else sitting next to me, or directly behind me. He yanked the stick down, so that the top of it was at my knee level. With this force, I was doused head-to-toe with water.
It wasn't a "sprinkling". I'd been sprinkled with "holy water" before, and when a priest does that, they tap the stick out above the heads and a spray goes forth. This was a deliberate attempt to soak me, and the stick was yanked all the way down, almost to the ground, which sent water flying all over me. I was soaked, and yet so shocked, I didn't move. I was frozen for a minute. I heard a gasp by the people in the congregation behind me.
I had to take my glasses off to see out of them. They were covered in water. My face was wet, hair was wet, and my shirt and pants were wet. I almost burst into tears on the spot, and then when I looked up I saw Abbot Nathan Zodrow smirking at me. This smirk changed my sadness and humiliation into determination not to let them see me cry.
I stood up, and I said in a calm but firm voice, clearly: "You're hypocrites." I didn't yell, and didn't need to yell. The whole church was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. I didn't yell "YOU hypocrites" as the Willamette Week changed it to. I simply said, "You're hypocrites", and then I turned around and walked straight out.
I then began to cry, tears streaming down my face. I drove down the hill, and an officer was going up the hill and I waved him down and told him what had just happened. He told me what had been done to me fit the criminal statute for "assault" in the something or other. He could see I was still wet from the dousing. He said he wanted to press charges, and then later he told me his superior had told him not to. But he told me I had a civil claim.
He went up to the Abbey, got their lie that I was the one disturbing the peace, and said they had asked him to "trespass" me from their property. Which means, they ask you not to go on their property again. I was fine with that, and I never violated their request.
I did get an email from Josef, the librarian I had helped at the library, with him insinuating I had stolen a book from them. I was shocked by this and said I most certaintly did NOT and had not even checked out, I think, the book in question. Then, when I asked him if he would testify on my behalf as to what I had told him was happening with Br. Ansgar and Fr. Joachim, and his observations of me in the library, he wrote to me and begged me not to bring him into it. He knew what the truth was, but he didn't want to speak against the church. He cited his old age.
So that was how I was "banned" from the Mt. Angel Abbey. It wasn't because I did anything wrong. The Willamette Week quoted the Abbey officials as saying dramatically it was the only time they'd ever had to "ban" anyone in their entire history, making me sound like a crazy lunatic. They had assaulted me, or one of their priests had, in a church service, and everyone saw it, and then they tried to say I was the one doing something wrong.
I was never on their property protesting, or harassing anyone, or being a nuisance, or putting up signs. I was never given a citation for doing anything on their property. I was banned purely after one of their priests had assaulted me and they tried to make me look bad.
I later found out, from a City Hall employee, that the Abbey's claim I had been the only one to ever be "banned" was a lie in and of itself. She told me the Mt. Angel Abbey had "banned" a lot of people from their property, and that there was record of it and it was common knowledge. She didn't know why they were trying to make me out to be the stand-out.
So they lied, and then they lied again.
No one has ever apologized, once, for anything. They've only tried to coerce me into confidentiality agreements to never tell my story, in exchange for money, and have used the media and police against me for their own gain.
I swear to God this is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Every single one of these "true story of my life" (TTSOML) posts is true and I have no reason to lie. I never had a "revenge" motive because I was the one who broke up with Ansgar more than once, and went to priests about it for help, and I have letters to prove it.
I hope anyone reading this, who has had something similar happen to them, will feel free to contact me. I also hope what was done to me doesn't scare other women and men from coming forward who were also abused.
Lynne and Jonathan Hoskins: Craigslist Housemate Hell
The housemate from Hell is Lynne Hoskins. Her husband is Jonathan Hoskins, and he works for the State of Washington, of all things, in the housing for the homeless department (as far as I know).
What is shocking about this, is that Mr. Hoskins is a big wig with the State and here he was, advising his wife to take illegal action against me, of removing my rental agreement from my bags and locking me out of the house. I had to call the CLEAR line and a lawyer advised me it was completely illegal and that I could sue for damages, and a police officer advised me this as well.
When I returned to the house, which I had a right to be at, Lynne had put a note on my door that I had until the end of April to move out, or be evicted, for "failure to pay rent". I had a witness with me when I tried to hand her a check for the rent in full, before it was even DUE, and she refused to even LOOK at it, even though I told her what it was, and that it was rent in full. So, at least I have a witness.
I had a right to stay there, but given her frightening behavior, I haven't taken advantage of that right because I do not feel safe with her at that house. I left my things there until the time expires, and I have considered taking her to small claims court for damages, but since I don't want to be there anyway, she's not going to have to "evict" me.
The woman is a nut. I guess the police over here already knew who she was and they've had problems with her before, AND she's had legal problems in Wenatchee too, I guess, where she sued someone over some Triathalon race. She said the Wenatchee judge was corrupt and biased and was making HER pay for the damages. Before this woman got so weird, I actually sympathized with her. NOW, if whoever she was trying to sue needs a witness as to her mental condition and behavior, they can contact me at any time.
I guess she asked her lawyers to CALL my dependency attorney and the state to claim I had "abandoned" her house and she was trying to serve me with eviction papers. If she's going to serve me with eviction papers, after SHE refused to take my rent, and locked me out illegally, I will, pardon my unintellectual phrase: haul her ass to small claims court.
I guess I'm not an intellectual. I'll stick to "activist" which suits me just fine!
What is shocking about this, is that Mr. Hoskins is a big wig with the State and here he was, advising his wife to take illegal action against me, of removing my rental agreement from my bags and locking me out of the house. I had to call the CLEAR line and a lawyer advised me it was completely illegal and that I could sue for damages, and a police officer advised me this as well.
When I returned to the house, which I had a right to be at, Lynne had put a note on my door that I had until the end of April to move out, or be evicted, for "failure to pay rent". I had a witness with me when I tried to hand her a check for the rent in full, before it was even DUE, and she refused to even LOOK at it, even though I told her what it was, and that it was rent in full. So, at least I have a witness.
I had a right to stay there, but given her frightening behavior, I haven't taken advantage of that right because I do not feel safe with her at that house. I left my things there until the time expires, and I have considered taking her to small claims court for damages, but since I don't want to be there anyway, she's not going to have to "evict" me.
The woman is a nut. I guess the police over here already knew who she was and they've had problems with her before, AND she's had legal problems in Wenatchee too, I guess, where she sued someone over some Triathalon race. She said the Wenatchee judge was corrupt and biased and was making HER pay for the damages. Before this woman got so weird, I actually sympathized with her. NOW, if whoever she was trying to sue needs a witness as to her mental condition and behavior, they can contact me at any time.
I guess she asked her lawyers to CALL my dependency attorney and the state to claim I had "abandoned" her house and she was trying to serve me with eviction papers. If she's going to serve me with eviction papers, after SHE refused to take my rent, and locked me out illegally, I will, pardon my unintellectual phrase: haul her ass to small claims court.
I guess I'm not an intellectual. I'll stick to "activist" which suits me just fine!
How To Be A Privileged Intellectual: Prospect Magazine May 2008
I found two articles this morning, from a magazine I hadn't noticed before: Prospect. The first that I read was by Alexander Linklader, and the second was by Christopher Hitchens (following his writings now, of course).
The first one by Alexander was informative, and seemed to glorify Hitchens in an obscure way, sort of the reverse of a backhanded compliment. Suffice it to say, Hitchens will never lose his place in history, but whether he will be more famous after death I couldn't say, because I think too many people enjoy the fire he is here on earth, now. Much of his writing won't go away though, and will be culled by professors in the future to provide students with an alternate view of current events at the time. Alexander wrote about Hitchens' "demise" and popularity, and then it was a nice counterbalance to see Hitchens write about his own popularity and the notion of "intellectual". He also even mentions his death, and how he should like to be viewed afterwards (we are all anticipating this moment, it seems, even the man himself).
I took personal offense and also, constructive criticism from the article by Hitchens. First of all, because I am a "blogger" and the truth hurts (I am predominantly of the "no thought unpublished" category). I think I've also referred to myself as an "intellectual" though I've done it tongue in cheek. What was interesting to me, is that after reading Alexander's article, which goes on and on about all the history of Hitchens and the politics, and international politics at that, (which I've no clue about) I compared myself to him (Hitchens). Everyone makes comparisons, and I don't often have anything challenging to compare myself against in the places I've lived (if I do say so myself, very un-intellectually), or at least with the people I've met. But then you find out about someone like Hitchens, whom I identify with in many ways, but also cannot come close to approximating.
Hitchens attempts to define "intellectual". Pundits, self-made bloggers, plain journalists, and many intelligent professors need not apply for the designation. The definition he uses is, I think, the oldest and narrowest, which combines intelligence and problem-solving "with the mind" with knowledge of history. I think he also tries to make a distinction between activist and intellectual, but primarily assigns analyical skills with the intellectual. From what I gathered, it is not enough to be intelligent, or have a good base of knowledge, but to integrate these things into an probing analysis and make it publicly known, for debate.
There is one problem, and that is elitism. Hitchens knows what it is like to be poor, and to be snubbed, from his days in boarding school. He doesn't know, however, anything about the problem of being uneducated. He was educated in the best schools, from his primary years. Even the most intelligent and analytical child, without good education, and/or direction, will never attain any designation of "intellectual" without years of formation or peppering in the pot.
Of all the listed intellectuals besides, how many of them are people of color, who have historically had a more difficult time achieving the means for an excellent education, when only 50 years ago they had to spend most of their time fighting for the most fundamental of human and civil rights, in the United States of America, of all places? Not to mention the brains of our immigrants who wash dishes, work in orchards, and whose children are constantly passed over and ignored.
Had Hitchens' mother not determined, AND had the means to put both her sons into good boarding schools (the best) and university, would he be the intellectual we know today? Any of the intellectuals, from the list Hitchens mentions, were any of them raised in public schools by poor or uneducated families, taking a giant leap into the scholastic and analytical fields through sheer willpower? Even without saturation and direction from others, who has done such a thing without a mentor, or without the privilege of time.
Reading books, even, and learning about history, takes time. People in poor families and even middle-class families, do not typically have time to devote to reading a vast collection of materials. They have to work, in menial jobs or corporate jobs which demand conformity and do not reward creativity, to support themselves. They do not have the privilege of acquiring knowledge for the sake of knowledge unless they are in college and have room and board paid for (without having to work and study at the same time), or have a rich benefactor willing to support their endeavors, or live in a monastery with plenty of time to read. Even professors, whom Hitchens claims may not be intellectuals because of their inability to possess analytical or probing powers, are not automatically given a level platform upon which to build radical and problem-solving ideologies, because they will not, most likely, be able to make up for lost time. They have not all been raised in boarding schools, which, unhappy environment that they may be, at least encourage intellectual growth.
Of course, going to boarding school does not make an intellectual either, as half those who go, haven't the intelligence or fire within to begin with. I know, as I've dated more than my share of former "boarders", and within my own family, one relative comes to mind at well, who was kicked out of at least 3 or 4 of the best boarding schools in the states.
How can someone who has not had the freedom and liberty of time, become a public intellectual? Is there a "How To" book on it? One of those chapters should be: "How To Make Up For Lost Time, Against All Rational Odds".
Some of our nations brightest and best minds, who have a fine temperment and passion to go along with their intelligence, will never rival the Hitch. By the time they're old enough to figure out for themselves what they've been missing, it is too late. Not that improvement can't be made, but the quickest learner, even taking a crash course in history, politics, and life, will never acquire the amount of information, material, and important life experience that someone of similar talents has been assimilating since the age of 7. Without that base of knowledge, there can be no deciphering and analysis of the past and how to best move toward the future.
"How To Be A Public Intellectual" first needs a prologue, entitled perhaps, "How To Secure A Boarding School Education". How does the saying go? something about putting the horse before the cart?
As for those who have had equal opportunities, and have simply been squandering the talents and privileges they have been blessed with, this article may be fairly read. The fact is, this sort of article is probably addressed to that kind of crowd to begin with, and should have been titled: "How To Be A Privileged Intellectual", or "How To Be A Public Intellectual: Primer For The Privileged".
I don't dislike Hitchens now, I like the debate, period. It takes a lot for someone to fall out of favor with me.
There is a fine line between humility and false modesty.
But I am wondering, if an intellectual should not call themself an intellectual (sort of like a genius not calling themself a "genius"), what of the activists? I have a hard enough time calling myself a "writer" but in fact, I do write. I don't know anyone who objects to an activist calling themself an "activist", but is this more acceptable because it has both negative and positive connotations?. We don't have problems labeling ourselves as "professional(s)" when very often this is a term used for the most unprofessional behavior (and individuals imaginable). Even to describe our own physical attributes as "attractive" is acceptable.
There is a biblical proverb about not flattering oneself and plenty of proverbs about being "wise in ones own eyes". I suppose the most aggregious form of self-flattery is to say or admit one is an "intellectual"? Is this because the other intellectuals won't like the comparison and perceived downgrading of the term? Only other privileged intellectuals should be able to decide who is in their company?
Perhaps there is a difference between "public intellectual" and an "intellectual for the public." The first intellectual is the one whom the public may admire from a proper distance, and the second intellectual is one of their own.
The first one by Alexander was informative, and seemed to glorify Hitchens in an obscure way, sort of the reverse of a backhanded compliment. Suffice it to say, Hitchens will never lose his place in history, but whether he will be more famous after death I couldn't say, because I think too many people enjoy the fire he is here on earth, now. Much of his writing won't go away though, and will be culled by professors in the future to provide students with an alternate view of current events at the time. Alexander wrote about Hitchens' "demise" and popularity, and then it was a nice counterbalance to see Hitchens write about his own popularity and the notion of "intellectual". He also even mentions his death, and how he should like to be viewed afterwards (we are all anticipating this moment, it seems, even the man himself).
I took personal offense and also, constructive criticism from the article by Hitchens. First of all, because I am a "blogger" and the truth hurts (I am predominantly of the "no thought unpublished" category). I think I've also referred to myself as an "intellectual" though I've done it tongue in cheek. What was interesting to me, is that after reading Alexander's article, which goes on and on about all the history of Hitchens and the politics, and international politics at that, (which I've no clue about) I compared myself to him (Hitchens). Everyone makes comparisons, and I don't often have anything challenging to compare myself against in the places I've lived (if I do say so myself, very un-intellectually), or at least with the people I've met. But then you find out about someone like Hitchens, whom I identify with in many ways, but also cannot come close to approximating.
Hitchens attempts to define "intellectual". Pundits, self-made bloggers, plain journalists, and many intelligent professors need not apply for the designation. The definition he uses is, I think, the oldest and narrowest, which combines intelligence and problem-solving "with the mind" with knowledge of history. I think he also tries to make a distinction between activist and intellectual, but primarily assigns analyical skills with the intellectual. From what I gathered, it is not enough to be intelligent, or have a good base of knowledge, but to integrate these things into an probing analysis and make it publicly known, for debate.
There is one problem, and that is elitism. Hitchens knows what it is like to be poor, and to be snubbed, from his days in boarding school. He doesn't know, however, anything about the problem of being uneducated. He was educated in the best schools, from his primary years. Even the most intelligent and analytical child, without good education, and/or direction, will never attain any designation of "intellectual" without years of formation or peppering in the pot.
Of all the listed intellectuals besides, how many of them are people of color, who have historically had a more difficult time achieving the means for an excellent education, when only 50 years ago they had to spend most of their time fighting for the most fundamental of human and civil rights, in the United States of America, of all places? Not to mention the brains of our immigrants who wash dishes, work in orchards, and whose children are constantly passed over and ignored.
Had Hitchens' mother not determined, AND had the means to put both her sons into good boarding schools (the best) and university, would he be the intellectual we know today? Any of the intellectuals, from the list Hitchens mentions, were any of them raised in public schools by poor or uneducated families, taking a giant leap into the scholastic and analytical fields through sheer willpower? Even without saturation and direction from others, who has done such a thing without a mentor, or without the privilege of time.
Reading books, even, and learning about history, takes time. People in poor families and even middle-class families, do not typically have time to devote to reading a vast collection of materials. They have to work, in menial jobs or corporate jobs which demand conformity and do not reward creativity, to support themselves. They do not have the privilege of acquiring knowledge for the sake of knowledge unless they are in college and have room and board paid for (without having to work and study at the same time), or have a rich benefactor willing to support their endeavors, or live in a monastery with plenty of time to read. Even professors, whom Hitchens claims may not be intellectuals because of their inability to possess analytical or probing powers, are not automatically given a level platform upon which to build radical and problem-solving ideologies, because they will not, most likely, be able to make up for lost time. They have not all been raised in boarding schools, which, unhappy environment that they may be, at least encourage intellectual growth.
Of course, going to boarding school does not make an intellectual either, as half those who go, haven't the intelligence or fire within to begin with. I know, as I've dated more than my share of former "boarders", and within my own family, one relative comes to mind at well, who was kicked out of at least 3 or 4 of the best boarding schools in the states.
How can someone who has not had the freedom and liberty of time, become a public intellectual? Is there a "How To" book on it? One of those chapters should be: "How To Make Up For Lost Time, Against All Rational Odds".
Some of our nations brightest and best minds, who have a fine temperment and passion to go along with their intelligence, will never rival the Hitch. By the time they're old enough to figure out for themselves what they've been missing, it is too late. Not that improvement can't be made, but the quickest learner, even taking a crash course in history, politics, and life, will never acquire the amount of information, material, and important life experience that someone of similar talents has been assimilating since the age of 7. Without that base of knowledge, there can be no deciphering and analysis of the past and how to best move toward the future.
"How To Be A Public Intellectual" first needs a prologue, entitled perhaps, "How To Secure A Boarding School Education". How does the saying go? something about putting the horse before the cart?
As for those who have had equal opportunities, and have simply been squandering the talents and privileges they have been blessed with, this article may be fairly read. The fact is, this sort of article is probably addressed to that kind of crowd to begin with, and should have been titled: "How To Be A Privileged Intellectual", or "How To Be A Public Intellectual: Primer For The Privileged".
I don't dislike Hitchens now, I like the debate, period. It takes a lot for someone to fall out of favor with me.
There is a fine line between humility and false modesty.
But I am wondering, if an intellectual should not call themself an intellectual (sort of like a genius not calling themself a "genius"), what of the activists? I have a hard enough time calling myself a "writer" but in fact, I do write. I don't know anyone who objects to an activist calling themself an "activist", but is this more acceptable because it has both negative and positive connotations?. We don't have problems labeling ourselves as "professional(s)" when very often this is a term used for the most unprofessional behavior (and individuals imaginable). Even to describe our own physical attributes as "attractive" is acceptable.
There is a biblical proverb about not flattering oneself and plenty of proverbs about being "wise in ones own eyes". I suppose the most aggregious form of self-flattery is to say or admit one is an "intellectual"? Is this because the other intellectuals won't like the comparison and perceived downgrading of the term? Only other privileged intellectuals should be able to decide who is in their company?
Perhaps there is a difference between "public intellectual" and an "intellectual for the public." The first intellectual is the one whom the public may admire from a proper distance, and the second intellectual is one of their own.
To Woman From CA & Others
Noted the wave. Noted the plates. Noted the expression on your face. Hope we're on the same page and discoveries will be made.
Have noticed other supporters recently as well, even some with British accents. Thank you for taking an interest.
Have noticed other supporters recently as well, even some with British accents. Thank you for taking an interest.
To My Musician
Want to do gig, but swamped. Still interested and will call soon. Probably better chance of working on things in a week or two. Want to work on demo for originals soon, and will have to find my old recordings/ideas. Can you believe I am just NOW getting over that horrible cold?!!!!!!!!! Also, we should brainstorm veggies and other comedy.
To My Gold Digger
Would like to know more about the work and materials, uranium especially, if not connected to T.C. and other Wenatchee aficionados. You know how to reach me.
To My Mariners Shoeman
Yes to the Mariners. Try that calzone. Good conversation last time too--made me laugh. Will be working on my understanding and interpretation of gibberish. Going to meeting for recovering bores today.
I am planning to call, just tied up.
I am planning to call, just tied up.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Today's Wrap Up
I feel I hardly got anything done today. I would write a post, and then need to take a break, a breather. I took a walk how many times today? I only took 2 aspirin this morning and lots of coffee, and then 2 aspirin a half hour ago, with a shot of tequila.
I admit, I'm having at least 1 drink every night, the last 3 nights. But I didn't want to go for another walk, and if I eat one more Little Debbie snack cake or t.v. dinner, my rear end is going to be so large I won't even know my tailbone is broken anymore...Hmmm...Plan?
So why am I still writing? I've been forcing myself to write all day, when I haven't felt like it and didn't want to. But right now, I am purely writing out of stress. I was thinking about writing about something funny, or at least, which I thought was funny...
After sitting here for another 10 minutes, staring into space and thinking how relaxed I am, I am going to bed to watch some TV. At 5:30 no less, until the kids come home and start pouring water and dish detergent all over the floor (like last night) to create an indoor "slip 'n' slide" on the linoleum. I had thought I had all the answers, until then. They don't like beets either, found out, picking them off of the floor with the olives. Yeah, i made a really terrible dinner for them last night. Corn dogs, beets and olives. I should go into the restaraunt biz. I told them to clean the floor after they threw the beets around, and next thing I know, turning the corner, they're literally body surfing the linoleum. I've never seen anything like it. There were suds all over the place. I made them take baths and then there was water all over the floor. I looked at the kitchen floor and realized they had actually done a pretty good job of getting the dirt up, on their bellies.
No, I'm not dating the daddeo. He has a girlfriend. Which is good, because I'm NOT interested, and I don't want a boyfriend right now anyway because I must be concentrating on my political aspirations of running for office, starting revolutions, and marryhing into money. You know, I could settle for marrying into funny too. Funny would be as good as money right now because I need some funny.
haha. Which makes me think about Blaine city council page and the police report column I noticed on the side. I saved it. I was like, "How many missing bikes can the Blaine police handle in a day?" There were about 15 reports and half of them were about stolen bikes.
I admit, I'm having at least 1 drink every night, the last 3 nights. But I didn't want to go for another walk, and if I eat one more Little Debbie snack cake or t.v. dinner, my rear end is going to be so large I won't even know my tailbone is broken anymore...Hmmm...Plan?
So why am I still writing? I've been forcing myself to write all day, when I haven't felt like it and didn't want to. But right now, I am purely writing out of stress. I was thinking about writing about something funny, or at least, which I thought was funny...
After sitting here for another 10 minutes, staring into space and thinking how relaxed I am, I am going to bed to watch some TV. At 5:30 no less, until the kids come home and start pouring water and dish detergent all over the floor (like last night) to create an indoor "slip 'n' slide" on the linoleum. I had thought I had all the answers, until then. They don't like beets either, found out, picking them off of the floor with the olives. Yeah, i made a really terrible dinner for them last night. Corn dogs, beets and olives. I should go into the restaraunt biz. I told them to clean the floor after they threw the beets around, and next thing I know, turning the corner, they're literally body surfing the linoleum. I've never seen anything like it. There were suds all over the place. I made them take baths and then there was water all over the floor. I looked at the kitchen floor and realized they had actually done a pretty good job of getting the dirt up, on their bellies.
No, I'm not dating the daddeo. He has a girlfriend. Which is good, because I'm NOT interested, and I don't want a boyfriend right now anyway because I must be concentrating on my political aspirations of running for office, starting revolutions, and marryhing into money. You know, I could settle for marrying into funny too. Funny would be as good as money right now because I need some funny.
haha. Which makes me think about Blaine city council page and the police report column I noticed on the side. I saved it. I was like, "How many missing bikes can the Blaine police handle in a day?" There were about 15 reports and half of them were about stolen bikes.
Corrections, and Bitter
Little correction:
I wrote in one post that I was given a citation for harassment while protesting on the first day, but I'm pretty sure it was the third day, and I wrote that in the next one.
I'm really honest, and I'm not lying about any of this stuff, or trying to make it sound like more than it is, but I don't have exact dates in front of me right now, and I'd have to reconstruct that by looking through some things I don't have with me here.
I'm doing the best I can without those actual dates, and keeping it as linear as possible.
I apologize for the parts where I come across as bitter, but after everything, it can be difficult. I guess not all of us bitter poor white folk turn to religion after hard times, but guns on the other hand...
Just kidding.
I wrote in one post that I was given a citation for harassment while protesting on the first day, but I'm pretty sure it was the third day, and I wrote that in the next one.
I'm really honest, and I'm not lying about any of this stuff, or trying to make it sound like more than it is, but I don't have exact dates in front of me right now, and I'd have to reconstruct that by looking through some things I don't have with me here.
I'm doing the best I can without those actual dates, and keeping it as linear as possible.
I apologize for the parts where I come across as bitter, but after everything, it can be difficult. I guess not all of us bitter poor white folk turn to religion after hard times, but guns on the other hand...
Just kidding.
Looking For Editor
I would like to find an editor for publication of a book about my life story, to date. If I don't have someone from the U.S. who wants my story, who will allow the truth to be told, I want publication from another country.
I think my story is important, and it's not just true, it can be verified. I also need the money because for once, I would like to sue the pants off of some people.
Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? For one thing, I'm not including photos, letters, and other evidence in this blog.
Thanks.
I think my story is important, and it's not just true, it can be verified. I also need the money because for once, I would like to sue the pants off of some people.
Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? For one thing, I'm not including photos, letters, and other evidence in this blog.
Thanks.
TTSOML #48: "Banned From The Abbey" & Message for Dept. of Justice
Yes, I was banned from the Abbey. It wasn't because I was doing anything wrong. I was very rarely ever there at that point. I never protested on their property, or put signs up on their property, and I was never cited for "harassment" because of anything to do with being there or around anyone. The "harassment" thing came about because of the attempt to intimidate me during my protest, and they tried to use an old "fax" for this, and I did not create a public nuisance at any time.
I discovered the shack in the woods, plain and simple, after being dragged through the mud. My "good name" having been dragged through the mud. They were already trying to make me out to be not just mentally ill, but a criminal besides. They wanted to dirty anything and everything about my good name.
And then I realized, while the Abbot was lying to me, telling me it was my story against Ansgar's and his word against mine, I realized they KNEW something was wrong because I had told them where Ansgar was trying to take me, and they KNEW what was out there, and that I DIDN'T know. Knowing then, that I was not paranoid, and that I was the innocent party, they had gone to police. Police that I found out, were mainly Catholic and who were on paid agreement and contract to work for the Mt. Angel Abbey.
So they "banned" me from the Abbey after I wrote to them letting them know I had found out about the "shack in the woods", but not before one of the priests assaulted me in a church service on their property. After one of the priests did this, they banned "me" as if I were the one doing something wrong.
I also found out Mt. Angel Abbey was not simply a monastery within the public town of Mt. Angel. I found out Mt. Angel Abbey was actually it's OWN TOWN, called "St. Benedict" and that they not only had their own post office, but their own well, electricity, and everything else they needed to make their own rules and live by their own laws. They had an intergovernmental contract between their religious community and the "state" or Mt. Angel police, for law enforcement services.
I discovered one crazy thing after the other. Including what Fr. Joachim did with some expensive property, before he took off, and a number of other things. I had former P.I.s for the Abbey telling me things as well. And THEN I got involved with lawyers and lawsuits, and learned a whole lot more than anyone wanted me to know, which could have affected the entire Archdiocese bankruptcy process in Oregon.
I have so much to share, and have to get it out, because someone within the Department of Justice, needs to hear the facts and realize that in my case, this HAS been a case of Section 1983, and that there is serious corruption and cover up and that it necessarily involved a "church" whether the FBI likes that connection or not. There's been a connection,
Deal with it.
I say that to FBI Supervisor Julia Thornton who first took my complaint against the FBI guys and tried to say the FBI didn't involve themselves in "church matters" (whom, I believe, subsequently received a promotion). She tried to put the whole thing with the RCC under the rug and claim it was "misconduct", internal "abuse of position" at best. But that's not the whole truth, and the fact that no one has been listening to me all these years, put my and my son's life at risk, and has permanently affected my son.
I asked for help a long time ago.
It's a little late now, to undo what's already been done, but it's not too late for justice and accountability with those who have directly been involved in harming me and my son.
I discovered the shack in the woods, plain and simple, after being dragged through the mud. My "good name" having been dragged through the mud. They were already trying to make me out to be not just mentally ill, but a criminal besides. They wanted to dirty anything and everything about my good name.
And then I realized, while the Abbot was lying to me, telling me it was my story against Ansgar's and his word against mine, I realized they KNEW something was wrong because I had told them where Ansgar was trying to take me, and they KNEW what was out there, and that I DIDN'T know. Knowing then, that I was not paranoid, and that I was the innocent party, they had gone to police. Police that I found out, were mainly Catholic and who were on paid agreement and contract to work for the Mt. Angel Abbey.
So they "banned" me from the Abbey after I wrote to them letting them know I had found out about the "shack in the woods", but not before one of the priests assaulted me in a church service on their property. After one of the priests did this, they banned "me" as if I were the one doing something wrong.
I also found out Mt. Angel Abbey was not simply a monastery within the public town of Mt. Angel. I found out Mt. Angel Abbey was actually it's OWN TOWN, called "St. Benedict" and that they not only had their own post office, but their own well, electricity, and everything else they needed to make their own rules and live by their own laws. They had an intergovernmental contract between their religious community and the "state" or Mt. Angel police, for law enforcement services.
I discovered one crazy thing after the other. Including what Fr. Joachim did with some expensive property, before he took off, and a number of other things. I had former P.I.s for the Abbey telling me things as well. And THEN I got involved with lawyers and lawsuits, and learned a whole lot more than anyone wanted me to know, which could have affected the entire Archdiocese bankruptcy process in Oregon.
I have so much to share, and have to get it out, because someone within the Department of Justice, needs to hear the facts and realize that in my case, this HAS been a case of Section 1983, and that there is serious corruption and cover up and that it necessarily involved a "church" whether the FBI likes that connection or not. There's been a connection,
Deal with it.
I say that to FBI Supervisor Julia Thornton who first took my complaint against the FBI guys and tried to say the FBI didn't involve themselves in "church matters" (whom, I believe, subsequently received a promotion). She tried to put the whole thing with the RCC under the rug and claim it was "misconduct", internal "abuse of position" at best. But that's not the whole truth, and the fact that no one has been listening to me all these years, put my and my son's life at risk, and has permanently affected my son.
I asked for help a long time ago.
It's a little late now, to undo what's already been done, but it's not too late for justice and accountability with those who have directly been involved in harming me and my son.
TTSOML #47: The Mt. Angel Abbey Shack With A Bed
Incredibly, perhaps, during my protest, in the very beginning, I still checked out books at the Abbey library. I also still talked to Josef.
Prior to my protest, I even went to a couple of services. I remember one I went to, in the summer, and I didn't know it was a huge priest conference week. All of the priests from the state were in the Mt. Angel church at the Abbey, and this was after I'd been mistreated by the Abbot. I wore the most revealing clothing to date: loose blue jeans and a button-up shirt which was loose and buttoned up except for the top button, had a collar and sleeves that went down to middle of my upper arm, and with this "seductive" apparel, I had matched my tennis shoes. The shirt was pale yellow and I stood there, with all these priests around, any one who could have vouched for my appropriate dress.
When I went to the church after reporting Br. Ansgar, the Abbot Nathan Zodrow and Ansgar would stand together, side by side, and look directly at me and then roll their eyes and laugh in hushed tones, with eachother, until services began.
Upset after one of these services, I went outside and walked back towards the road Br. Ansgar had been taking me on. I saw a garage and what looked like a "chapel" on wheels. I hadn't seen it before and thought maybe THAT was "the exquisite little chapel". It had gingerbread trim, and little windows with cut-outs and was painted prettily and it was small like the chapel in the monk cemetary that Br. Ansgar had first wanted me to go inside with him.
I thought, "Did they MOVE the chapel from the woods to the garage?" and I wondered if they were trying to get rid of it or something. I didn't know.
While protesting, I was across the street from a house where there was a woman who also happened to be a caretaker or nurse in the area. Her family had quit going to the Catholic church, she said, a few years earlier, and one of her very best friends had been abused as a little girl. So this woman was very supportive of my protest and encouraged it, and brought me coffee and tea and invited me in to visit and gossip. One day, I told her about how Br. Ansgar had been trying to take me to this chapel in the woods, and then I told her I thought I'd found it, maybe, in a garage...and I described it. She was wide eyed and then opened her mouth and gasped, saying, "That's not a chapel! That's a concession stand for Octoberfest!" Oh my, she added, and, laying her hand on my arm, was laughing and said she knew exactly what I was talking about and where it was. So she and I sat there, wondering, if THAT wasn't the "exquisite little chapel", what was out there?
I later met an elderly woman further into the neighborhood, with a knot of white hair on her head. She was so pretty, even in her old age, and she was standing outside in her yard. She asked me to come over and wanted to know if I was the young woman she'd seen protesting next to the sidewalk by the road. I said yes, and she looked me straight in the eye and told me she knew some things about this town that other people didn't know. She said she may be old, but that she knew exactly what I was going through, and that I was not alone. Basically, she hinted that she'd either been through the same thing, even though I told her I hadn't been a child and had been an adult woman in more of a counseling relationship. She said she knew what it was like and that she was proud to see me out there.
I decided to go back up to the Abbey, and while the monks were in a prayer or church service, take a little walk. A long walk, back down that dirt road, to find out for myself where Br. Ansgar had been trying to take me.
It was hot outside, Fall, but hot. I walked and walked and walked, until, looking back, the Abbey buildings were a speck in the distance. I was still not seeing the woods before me. The road went on forever, and then there was a fork in the road. The woods were more to the left side than the right, so I took the most direct path, which was the one to the left. Finally, the road curved around into the woods. I didn't see anything at first, and then, there it was. It was most definitely NOT an "exquisite little chapel". It was a very, very, worn and run down cabin or shack. It was the size of one bedroom, had bad paint, and was in disrepair. But, maybe it was still a chapel inside? I walked onto the porch and looked in the window and I still remember hearing myself gasp. I think I said, "Oh my goodness..." next. It was one room, and there was nothing in it except a bed and a dresser with nothing on it. No altar, no books, no icons or crucifix, no cross, no NOTHING except a bed.
THAT was where Br. Ansgar was trying to take me, and he wasn't taking me there, telling me it was a little cabin with a bed, or hinting at a romantic getaway. He first tried to get me to go into a REAL chapel in a cemetary with him, and when I wouldn't, he convinced me to take a walk with him to see some beautiful and "exquisite little chapel" which has NEVER been used as a "chapel". I wondered how many women were taken out there, or men, or children, and who else knew about this.
I was so angry, to find this, and see how my intuition had been RIGHT. Br. Ansgar had acted guilty, because he WAS guilty of trying to do something inappropriate.
Who could have heard me out there? No one. He could have tried anything, and then claimed it never happened. And he had lied to me to try to get me out there.
The Abbot and Human Resource person KNEW what was out there when I first met with them and asked about it, and that was why they had acted so nervously. But they chose to defame me to everyone instead and tell people I was delusional and "paranoid".
I knew then and I know now, that there was a reason I couldn't get this off of my mind. I would almost be convinced I had imagined everything, and start to doubt myself, out of my old habit of trusting others in authority before trusting my own inner voice, and then something inside of me would assert itself and say "No. That's not how it is and you are a good judge. You are right."
I was afraid to go down the road before because I was scared, and worried someone would try to prevent me from going or stop me. But I did it and I got all the evidence I needed that my "suspicions" were well-founded.
After this discovery, things got worse for me as all the Abbey lawyers wanted to do was cover up and do damage control, and they continued to use police and the state to assist them in their goals. They wanted to find a way to create "grounds" for their slander of me.
Enter my new "friend" Christa, and the Abbey lawyers I've been dealing with ever since: Dick Whittemore and John Kaempf, both Catholics, and both lawyers for Bullivant Houser Bailey, in Portland, Oregon.
Prior to my protest, I even went to a couple of services. I remember one I went to, in the summer, and I didn't know it was a huge priest conference week. All of the priests from the state were in the Mt. Angel church at the Abbey, and this was after I'd been mistreated by the Abbot. I wore the most revealing clothing to date: loose blue jeans and a button-up shirt which was loose and buttoned up except for the top button, had a collar and sleeves that went down to middle of my upper arm, and with this "seductive" apparel, I had matched my tennis shoes. The shirt was pale yellow and I stood there, with all these priests around, any one who could have vouched for my appropriate dress.
When I went to the church after reporting Br. Ansgar, the Abbot Nathan Zodrow and Ansgar would stand together, side by side, and look directly at me and then roll their eyes and laugh in hushed tones, with eachother, until services began.
Upset after one of these services, I went outside and walked back towards the road Br. Ansgar had been taking me on. I saw a garage and what looked like a "chapel" on wheels. I hadn't seen it before and thought maybe THAT was "the exquisite little chapel". It had gingerbread trim, and little windows with cut-outs and was painted prettily and it was small like the chapel in the monk cemetary that Br. Ansgar had first wanted me to go inside with him.
I thought, "Did they MOVE the chapel from the woods to the garage?" and I wondered if they were trying to get rid of it or something. I didn't know.
While protesting, I was across the street from a house where there was a woman who also happened to be a caretaker or nurse in the area. Her family had quit going to the Catholic church, she said, a few years earlier, and one of her very best friends had been abused as a little girl. So this woman was very supportive of my protest and encouraged it, and brought me coffee and tea and invited me in to visit and gossip. One day, I told her about how Br. Ansgar had been trying to take me to this chapel in the woods, and then I told her I thought I'd found it, maybe, in a garage...and I described it. She was wide eyed and then opened her mouth and gasped, saying, "That's not a chapel! That's a concession stand for Octoberfest!" Oh my, she added, and, laying her hand on my arm, was laughing and said she knew exactly what I was talking about and where it was. So she and I sat there, wondering, if THAT wasn't the "exquisite little chapel", what was out there?
I later met an elderly woman further into the neighborhood, with a knot of white hair on her head. She was so pretty, even in her old age, and she was standing outside in her yard. She asked me to come over and wanted to know if I was the young woman she'd seen protesting next to the sidewalk by the road. I said yes, and she looked me straight in the eye and told me she knew some things about this town that other people didn't know. She said she may be old, but that she knew exactly what I was going through, and that I was not alone. Basically, she hinted that she'd either been through the same thing, even though I told her I hadn't been a child and had been an adult woman in more of a counseling relationship. She said she knew what it was like and that she was proud to see me out there.
I decided to go back up to the Abbey, and while the monks were in a prayer or church service, take a little walk. A long walk, back down that dirt road, to find out for myself where Br. Ansgar had been trying to take me.
It was hot outside, Fall, but hot. I walked and walked and walked, until, looking back, the Abbey buildings were a speck in the distance. I was still not seeing the woods before me. The road went on forever, and then there was a fork in the road. The woods were more to the left side than the right, so I took the most direct path, which was the one to the left. Finally, the road curved around into the woods. I didn't see anything at first, and then, there it was. It was most definitely NOT an "exquisite little chapel". It was a very, very, worn and run down cabin or shack. It was the size of one bedroom, had bad paint, and was in disrepair. But, maybe it was still a chapel inside? I walked onto the porch and looked in the window and I still remember hearing myself gasp. I think I said, "Oh my goodness..." next. It was one room, and there was nothing in it except a bed and a dresser with nothing on it. No altar, no books, no icons or crucifix, no cross, no NOTHING except a bed.
THAT was where Br. Ansgar was trying to take me, and he wasn't taking me there, telling me it was a little cabin with a bed, or hinting at a romantic getaway. He first tried to get me to go into a REAL chapel in a cemetary with him, and when I wouldn't, he convinced me to take a walk with him to see some beautiful and "exquisite little chapel" which has NEVER been used as a "chapel". I wondered how many women were taken out there, or men, or children, and who else knew about this.
I was so angry, to find this, and see how my intuition had been RIGHT. Br. Ansgar had acted guilty, because he WAS guilty of trying to do something inappropriate.
Who could have heard me out there? No one. He could have tried anything, and then claimed it never happened. And he had lied to me to try to get me out there.
The Abbot and Human Resource person KNEW what was out there when I first met with them and asked about it, and that was why they had acted so nervously. But they chose to defame me to everyone instead and tell people I was delusional and "paranoid".
I knew then and I know now, that there was a reason I couldn't get this off of my mind. I would almost be convinced I had imagined everything, and start to doubt myself, out of my old habit of trusting others in authority before trusting my own inner voice, and then something inside of me would assert itself and say "No. That's not how it is and you are a good judge. You are right."
I was afraid to go down the road before because I was scared, and worried someone would try to prevent me from going or stop me. But I did it and I got all the evidence I needed that my "suspicions" were well-founded.
After this discovery, things got worse for me as all the Abbey lawyers wanted to do was cover up and do damage control, and they continued to use police and the state to assist them in their goals. They wanted to find a way to create "grounds" for their slander of me.
Enter my new "friend" Christa, and the Abbey lawyers I've been dealing with ever since: Dick Whittemore and John Kaempf, both Catholics, and both lawyers for Bullivant Houser Bailey, in Portland, Oregon.
TTSOML #46: Schitzophrenia Claim & Reaction To Citation
The gentleman who told me I was "schitzophrenic" and that I needed help, came over to where I was protesting all the time, to try to extract information from me. I told him, "How is it that you think you know this? I don't hear things, or see things, and have never told anyone I have, and I'm not paranoid." This guy claimed he knew I was, because, he said, the Abbey told him I had been trying to "seduce" a monk and was delusional thinking he'd leave for me. He also said I was paranoid about Br. Ansgar's intentions, when Br. Ansgar had never touched me sexually. He said he thought I was paranoid about where Ansgar was taking me, and that I must have imagined there was something wrong when there wasn't.
At that time, I hadn't posted copies of some of the letters Br. Ansgar had written to me, in his own hand, which confirmed my story, and I didn't have evidence to confirm what was even out there in "the woods", if anything. But I knew what I knew, and I was not paranoid.
I let him know if he continued to say these things, he and the Abbey would be liable for defamation to the public in the town, and not just the slander of my "good name" to the police. I found out officials from the Abbey were telling members of their church and people from town, that I was paranoid schitzophrenic and nothing I said was true and that I just wanted revenge for being rejected by a monk. At that point, they didn't know I had the letters from Br. Ansgar, and emails from the monks as well, including the one where Fr. Joachim threatens me about my "good name".
I didn't have to show them all of my cards. But I told him, he didn't know and they didn't know what I had, and if they continued to defame me, I would take legal action.
In the meantime, after being cited for "harassment" which was bogus, and seeing with my own eyes and hearing with my own ears how the police were taking all of their instructions from the clergy at Mt. Angel Abbey (and their lawyers of course, though I didn't think about this at the time), I decided to find a lawyer. It was illegal for them to do what they were doing, and they were violating separation of church and state and using the state to defend and support their church.
Hmmm. Interesting how the motives are still the same, even now, even today in Wenatchee and Waterville.
In the meantime, after being cited for "harassment" while protesting, this gave me every incentive to continue to protest. I had another panic attack after I was given the citation by the Catholic Mt. Angel officer, but I pushed mind over matter, my mind over my physical response, and I triumphed, and got right back on that horse and continued to protest. They had now earned at least 2 more months of protest by me, and, gauging by their reaction already, they were not going to like it very much.
I tried to go to the Mt. Angel police and reported the officer who had cited me while I was protesting, took orders from Mt. Angel Abbey, and who had said "You offend my church!" but I got nowhere. I went up the whole chain of command, eventually going to the state level, and they purposefully ignored me and did NOTHING. But I filled out a complaint form, and it should be on file. The Mt. Angel Abbey was using police and law enforcement for their own civil gain, which is grounds for a Section 1983 claim, which is when the state or government uses or abuses their position, under "color of law" to deprive someone of their civil liberties or for political reasons. After Mt. Angel police did nothing, I decided THEN, to find an attorney. I didn't find one until after I let the Abbey know I had discovered their little secret about the "chapel in the woods".
At first, I couldn't prove anything about a "little chapel in the woods". The Abbey was telling me I imagined everything and told others I was crazy. Of all the mental illnesses, the best one for discrediting somebody is "paranoid schitzophrenia".
If there was nothing, it could be made to sound like I had just made the whole thing up. But I was soon to meet a woman in Mt. Angel who would reveal to me what was really out there, and I also must make mention of another mysterious woman who was elderly, with snow-white hair, who took me aside one day to give me a message.
At that time, I hadn't posted copies of some of the letters Br. Ansgar had written to me, in his own hand, which confirmed my story, and I didn't have evidence to confirm what was even out there in "the woods", if anything. But I knew what I knew, and I was not paranoid.
I let him know if he continued to say these things, he and the Abbey would be liable for defamation to the public in the town, and not just the slander of my "good name" to the police. I found out officials from the Abbey were telling members of their church and people from town, that I was paranoid schitzophrenic and nothing I said was true and that I just wanted revenge for being rejected by a monk. At that point, they didn't know I had the letters from Br. Ansgar, and emails from the monks as well, including the one where Fr. Joachim threatens me about my "good name".
I didn't have to show them all of my cards. But I told him, he didn't know and they didn't know what I had, and if they continued to defame me, I would take legal action.
In the meantime, after being cited for "harassment" which was bogus, and seeing with my own eyes and hearing with my own ears how the police were taking all of their instructions from the clergy at Mt. Angel Abbey (and their lawyers of course, though I didn't think about this at the time), I decided to find a lawyer. It was illegal for them to do what they were doing, and they were violating separation of church and state and using the state to defend and support their church.
Hmmm. Interesting how the motives are still the same, even now, even today in Wenatchee and Waterville.
In the meantime, after being cited for "harassment" while protesting, this gave me every incentive to continue to protest. I had another panic attack after I was given the citation by the Catholic Mt. Angel officer, but I pushed mind over matter, my mind over my physical response, and I triumphed, and got right back on that horse and continued to protest. They had now earned at least 2 more months of protest by me, and, gauging by their reaction already, they were not going to like it very much.
I tried to go to the Mt. Angel police and reported the officer who had cited me while I was protesting, took orders from Mt. Angel Abbey, and who had said "You offend my church!" but I got nowhere. I went up the whole chain of command, eventually going to the state level, and they purposefully ignored me and did NOTHING. But I filled out a complaint form, and it should be on file. The Mt. Angel Abbey was using police and law enforcement for their own civil gain, which is grounds for a Section 1983 claim, which is when the state or government uses or abuses their position, under "color of law" to deprive someone of their civil liberties or for political reasons. After Mt. Angel police did nothing, I decided THEN, to find an attorney. I didn't find one until after I let the Abbey know I had discovered their little secret about the "chapel in the woods".
At first, I couldn't prove anything about a "little chapel in the woods". The Abbey was telling me I imagined everything and told others I was crazy. Of all the mental illnesses, the best one for discrediting somebody is "paranoid schitzophrenia".
If there was nothing, it could be made to sound like I had just made the whole thing up. But I was soon to meet a woman in Mt. Angel who would reveal to me what was really out there, and I also must make mention of another mysterious woman who was elderly, with snow-white hair, who took me aside one day to give me a message.
TTSOML #45: Citation By Mt. Angel Police, Over "Virgin Mary Cherry Pie"
I think I told one of the guys from the Abbey that I didn't know how long I was going to protest, and that maybe I would do it for months. His eyes bugged out and he turned to walk back up the hill to the Abbey. To give them his report I guess.
So it was on the next day, day three, that I was approached, while sitting peacefully in my chair, by an officer who said, "Ms. Garrett, you are being cited for harassment." I was stunned. "What? This is LEGAL," I said. The officer said to me, yelling and spitting, "I could take you to jail RIGHT NOW." I asked him what I was doing that amounted to "harassment". He said I had sent the Abbey a "fax" that was offensive.
Now that I'm thinking back about when I sent the fax, I can't recall if I sent it right after I was given the runaround and harassed for months by the Abbot and Human Resource person, or if I sent it after finding out they had reported me to police. I actually think it was after I found out they had put me under surveillance, because Scott had admitted I hadn't done anything wrong and they had no evidence of the kind, because I hadn't. So if that's the case, which I think it is, I guess more than one week elapsed between the time I found out I had been placed under surveillance and the day I first protested. It may have been one month instead of one week, inbetween my discovery of slander to police and my first day of protest.
I'm quite sure, and will back it up with dates, but I recall this now, because I asked the officer, "Why am I being given a citation for that fax NOW when it was almost a month ago that I sent it?" I told the officer that if I had done something wrong, which amounted to harassment, why was I just now being given a citation, right in the middle of my protest. I told him I viewed this as intimidation and a violation of my civil right to protest, by punishing me with citations.
The officer asked me if I had sent the fax. I said yes, I had, and that it was tongue in cheek, and not "harassment". I had sent one fax, in response to an ad I saw placed by Mt. Angel Abbey, in the Oregonian, for a new cook. I drafted a proposed "menu" quickly, in the style of an elementary school hot lunch menu, and faxed it to them. On my sample menu I had listed:
Pope Applesauce
St. Paul's Hot Cross Buns
Turkey
Virgin Mary Cherry Pie
Mother's Milk
And I think I listed a few other things, some which were funnier, and I remember distinctly that the Cherry Pie was the most "inflammatory" item on the list.
The officer yelled at me: "Did you write, "VIRGIN MARY CHERRY PIE?!!!" I said yes, but that it wasn't "harassment", it was satire, and it was the only thing I'd sent them and no one had ever asked me not to fax them or not to write. I repeated, "Why is the Abbey telling you to press charges against me NOW? in the middle of my protest? It seems like a violation of free speech..."
So the officer went across the street and started talking on a cell phone, to the Abbey, telling them what I'd just said, and asking them what to do now. He was telling them he didn't think he could give me a citation, but after consultation with them, he came back to me, handed me the citation and said, "YOU offend my CHURCH."
So he was Catholic. Evidently.
So it was on the next day, day three, that I was approached, while sitting peacefully in my chair, by an officer who said, "Ms. Garrett, you are being cited for harassment." I was stunned. "What? This is LEGAL," I said. The officer said to me, yelling and spitting, "I could take you to jail RIGHT NOW." I asked him what I was doing that amounted to "harassment". He said I had sent the Abbey a "fax" that was offensive.
Now that I'm thinking back about when I sent the fax, I can't recall if I sent it right after I was given the runaround and harassed for months by the Abbot and Human Resource person, or if I sent it after finding out they had reported me to police. I actually think it was after I found out they had put me under surveillance, because Scott had admitted I hadn't done anything wrong and they had no evidence of the kind, because I hadn't. So if that's the case, which I think it is, I guess more than one week elapsed between the time I found out I had been placed under surveillance and the day I first protested. It may have been one month instead of one week, inbetween my discovery of slander to police and my first day of protest.
I'm quite sure, and will back it up with dates, but I recall this now, because I asked the officer, "Why am I being given a citation for that fax NOW when it was almost a month ago that I sent it?" I told the officer that if I had done something wrong, which amounted to harassment, why was I just now being given a citation, right in the middle of my protest. I told him I viewed this as intimidation and a violation of my civil right to protest, by punishing me with citations.
The officer asked me if I had sent the fax. I said yes, I had, and that it was tongue in cheek, and not "harassment". I had sent one fax, in response to an ad I saw placed by Mt. Angel Abbey, in the Oregonian, for a new cook. I drafted a proposed "menu" quickly, in the style of an elementary school hot lunch menu, and faxed it to them. On my sample menu I had listed:
Pope Applesauce
St. Paul's Hot Cross Buns
Turkey
Virgin Mary Cherry Pie
Mother's Milk
And I think I listed a few other things, some which were funnier, and I remember distinctly that the Cherry Pie was the most "inflammatory" item on the list.
The officer yelled at me: "Did you write, "VIRGIN MARY CHERRY PIE?!!!" I said yes, but that it wasn't "harassment", it was satire, and it was the only thing I'd sent them and no one had ever asked me not to fax them or not to write. I repeated, "Why is the Abbey telling you to press charges against me NOW? in the middle of my protest? It seems like a violation of free speech..."
So the officer went across the street and started talking on a cell phone, to the Abbey, telling them what I'd just said, and asking them what to do now. He was telling them he didn't think he could give me a citation, but after consultation with them, he came back to me, handed me the citation and said, "YOU offend my CHURCH."
So he was Catholic. Evidently.
TTSOML #44: Second Day Of Protest
I went back the very next day and did the same thing and received even more notice. What was great was that usually someone who wanted to talk to me, who had also been abused, wanted some measure of privacy. I didn't have 7 people crowding me at one time. People came out of the woodwork, one by one, and approached me alone, with one other person, or, sometimes, with a family or people who already knew their story.
I did a lot of listening. They would ask what happened to me, and I always told them the truth, that I hadn't been sexually abused, but the things I'd discovered and then how I was slandered to police. Then someone would open up to me. Oftentimes they gave me their contact information voluntarily, but later I asked for it, and started encouraging people to find legal representation, for themselves and the protection of others for our future.
I learned a lot about the town of Mt. Angel and about Mt. Angel Abbey, from the locals. Some families had lived there for generations, and been faithful to the Catholic church and then had a member abused. Those who had been abused often told me they were alone, or had family members who disapproved of their speaking about it to others. Some who came to me already had attorneys. I had someone give me the name of Dan Gatti, a lawyer. They said I should talk to him. I had another person tell me David Slader was better. "Dan just wants money--David fights for justice" said one woman who had retained Slader for herself.
I spoke to a woman who had been abused as a little girl, along with her 2 sisters, and to a family member whose son had been molested in a swimming pool. I learned there had once been a swimming pool on the Abbey property, but it was taken out after multiple allegations of child molestation, and replaced with a soccer field.
I think what bothered the Abbey most, was the attention I was getting, and the fear it could encourage others to do the same. They also knew that I was encouraging people to find lawyers to fight for them and their damages.
I had a host of people come down from the Abbey on the second day and try to persuade me to leave. One said he was a psychologist and that he believed (knowing nothing about me and having never spoken to me) I was "schitzophrenic". This same man approached me througout the course of my protesting, and his diagnosis of me changed from one thing to the other, over time. He tried to persuade me to doubt myself, and I never did. I knew I had anxiety over what had been done to me, especially when I found out they had asked police to put me under surveillance. Finding THAT out, had caused the first panic attacks I'd ever had in my life, and I didn't even know what it was.
I went to my college health and told them I wasn't able to breathe very well, and felt I couldn't get enough air. The woman said I was hyperventilating or about to, and that it was a panic attack. She asked what had happened and I told her I'd just found out I had been defamed by clergy, to POLICE, after I reported some misconduct by their own guys.
So, anxiety, yes, and later, I even had a bout with depression because I honestly believed SOMEONE was going to come to my defense and admit what had happened was not my fault. I was positive Fr. Joachim or Br. Ansgar would finally be "convicted" by "the Holy Spirit" and apologize and that I would be exonnerated and the truth would be known. Afterall, they may have sinned and were being "bad", but they couldn't continue on this way if they were really "christians", and I still believed, or was deceived enough to think they were. So I hoped against all hope, for about 7 months, and then I was depressed for about 3 months and tried anti-depressants, which didn't help, so I went off of them. During the time of depression, I cried everyday, more than once a day. I couldn't keep myself from crying even at college, in the middle of the day and would have to try to hide it. The pain and hurt was so severe, to think they were really not sorry at all, and would do this to me.
Well, and then by the time reality set in, they had done other things besides, involving the police, and I had made another important discovery.
I did a lot of listening. They would ask what happened to me, and I always told them the truth, that I hadn't been sexually abused, but the things I'd discovered and then how I was slandered to police. Then someone would open up to me. Oftentimes they gave me their contact information voluntarily, but later I asked for it, and started encouraging people to find legal representation, for themselves and the protection of others for our future.
I learned a lot about the town of Mt. Angel and about Mt. Angel Abbey, from the locals. Some families had lived there for generations, and been faithful to the Catholic church and then had a member abused. Those who had been abused often told me they were alone, or had family members who disapproved of their speaking about it to others. Some who came to me already had attorneys. I had someone give me the name of Dan Gatti, a lawyer. They said I should talk to him. I had another person tell me David Slader was better. "Dan just wants money--David fights for justice" said one woman who had retained Slader for herself.
I spoke to a woman who had been abused as a little girl, along with her 2 sisters, and to a family member whose son had been molested in a swimming pool. I learned there had once been a swimming pool on the Abbey property, but it was taken out after multiple allegations of child molestation, and replaced with a soccer field.
I think what bothered the Abbey most, was the attention I was getting, and the fear it could encourage others to do the same. They also knew that I was encouraging people to find lawyers to fight for them and their damages.
I had a host of people come down from the Abbey on the second day and try to persuade me to leave. One said he was a psychologist and that he believed (knowing nothing about me and having never spoken to me) I was "schitzophrenic". This same man approached me througout the course of my protesting, and his diagnosis of me changed from one thing to the other, over time. He tried to persuade me to doubt myself, and I never did. I knew I had anxiety over what had been done to me, especially when I found out they had asked police to put me under surveillance. Finding THAT out, had caused the first panic attacks I'd ever had in my life, and I didn't even know what it was.
I went to my college health and told them I wasn't able to breathe very well, and felt I couldn't get enough air. The woman said I was hyperventilating or about to, and that it was a panic attack. She asked what had happened and I told her I'd just found out I had been defamed by clergy, to POLICE, after I reported some misconduct by their own guys.
So, anxiety, yes, and later, I even had a bout with depression because I honestly believed SOMEONE was going to come to my defense and admit what had happened was not my fault. I was positive Fr. Joachim or Br. Ansgar would finally be "convicted" by "the Holy Spirit" and apologize and that I would be exonnerated and the truth would be known. Afterall, they may have sinned and were being "bad", but they couldn't continue on this way if they were really "christians", and I still believed, or was deceived enough to think they were. So I hoped against all hope, for about 7 months, and then I was depressed for about 3 months and tried anti-depressants, which didn't help, so I went off of them. During the time of depression, I cried everyday, more than once a day. I couldn't keep myself from crying even at college, in the middle of the day and would have to try to hide it. The pain and hurt was so severe, to think they were really not sorry at all, and would do this to me.
Well, and then by the time reality set in, they had done other things besides, involving the police, and I had made another important discovery.
Bush News Conference
I'll go back to my last post and finish it, but I'm watching the Bush news conference about oil right now at the same time.
I am not being sarcastic when I say I like his green tie. Which makes me think, "why do you always notice hair and colors...what are you anyway? a make-up artist wannabe? a fashionista?" and then I start justifying, as Bush is talking about Hamas, "No, this is not a sign to go into clothing retail. This means you should get out and see art more often."
Michael just asked a question about the war on "tire". I say, yeah! get those cars off the road!
Seriously, the juxposition of color in the Bush frame is sort of nice. Black, white, silver and grey with a peach-tan and this vivid martini olive green, and very pale cream background...
Now he's telling April she's lookin' good in yellow. He's noticing color on her while I'm typing about color on him. I do have to say, his speech or answer preceding April's question was pretty good. It was a good answer. I liked the metaphors about walls and liberty.
(this is my first attempt at a political play-by-play analysis)
Okay, now we're on change and Mugabee...
Wow. That was almost a head snap when he said "recognize!". And then he ends, just like that, which was a nice way to end. And when he turned his head to say this, we could see his profile and the shape of his nose, and the image of a hawk came to mind.
Well, I think someone needs to do something about the care of soldiers coming back from Iraq. These guys get about 2 weeks integration back into civilization, and have all kinds of PTSD. This isn't the 50s anymore either, where wives, husbands, and families are still waiting at the same spot when they come home and affairs or divorce are more of a shame. I've heard from soldiers there are tons of affairs on the battlefield, and then of course, at home and family problems to return to. I think they need excellent medical and mental coverage and all of them should probably be screened, at length, for these things when they return from the field.
UPDATE: I was watching the news conference on the channel that hosts Good Morning America. I thought I should add this because I realized not every cameraman gets the same angle, and I was speaking about the angle of seeing Bush's profile, which may have only been apparent on certain stations.
I am not being sarcastic when I say I like his green tie. Which makes me think, "why do you always notice hair and colors...what are you anyway? a make-up artist wannabe? a fashionista?" and then I start justifying, as Bush is talking about Hamas, "No, this is not a sign to go into clothing retail. This means you should get out and see art more often."
Michael just asked a question about the war on "tire". I say, yeah! get those cars off the road!
Seriously, the juxposition of color in the Bush frame is sort of nice. Black, white, silver and grey with a peach-tan and this vivid martini olive green, and very pale cream background...
Now he's telling April she's lookin' good in yellow. He's noticing color on her while I'm typing about color on him. I do have to say, his speech or answer preceding April's question was pretty good. It was a good answer. I liked the metaphors about walls and liberty.
(this is my first attempt at a political play-by-play analysis)
Okay, now we're on change and Mugabee...
Wow. That was almost a head snap when he said "recognize!". And then he ends, just like that, which was a nice way to end. And when he turned his head to say this, we could see his profile and the shape of his nose, and the image of a hawk came to mind.
Well, I think someone needs to do something about the care of soldiers coming back from Iraq. These guys get about 2 weeks integration back into civilization, and have all kinds of PTSD. This isn't the 50s anymore either, where wives, husbands, and families are still waiting at the same spot when they come home and affairs or divorce are more of a shame. I've heard from soldiers there are tons of affairs on the battlefield, and then of course, at home and family problems to return to. I think they need excellent medical and mental coverage and all of them should probably be screened, at length, for these things when they return from the field.
UPDATE: I was watching the news conference on the channel that hosts Good Morning America. I thought I should add this because I realized not every cameraman gets the same angle, and I was speaking about the angle of seeing Bush's profile, which may have only been apparent on certain stations.
TTSOML #43: The First Day Of My Protest
After loading my protest signs into my car, I drove straight to the Mt. Angel police station. I didn't know how to protest and wanted to make sure I did everything legally. All I knew, was that I had a civil right to protest, but where and how?
I walked into the police station and the officer at the desk was a "Michael" with a very long and Italian last name. He said I could protest and I told him I didn't want to do it at the Abbey, or on their grounds, but close to the Abbey. So he drew out a map for me of the property boundaries and showed me a cross-street and housing development which came before the driveway up to the Abbey. He said I would be legal if I protested there, as long as it was not blocking off a sidewalk. I thanked him and drove to the location he had specified.
I set out a folding chair and hammered the signs into the ground. I took my book out and began to read, and waited for eggs and rotten tomatoes, but feeling glad someone from the Abbey was going to see me and start asking questions, and knowing it was going to get back to the Abbot.
I wasn't there long at all when people driving by began to stop. They stopped their cars and got out, or pulled alongside the road to talk out the window, and almost every single one passing by was waving, smiling, giving a thumbs up, and one woman drove by yelling, "JUSTICE!!!!!"
I had so many people coming to me, telling me how they were abused by clergy, or how their relative was, or friend, that I was shocked. The town, it seemed, was FILLED with people who had been (usually) sexually abused by clergy. I had adult men telling me things they hadn't told anyone before, they said, at least not to a lawyer or to the police. Almost all of them said it encouraged them to see me out there, taking a stand.
Then I had one or two individuals from the Abbey come down from the hill to find out what I was doing and ask me how long I planned to protest. "I don't know," I said. "What do you want?" they asked. And one or two people drove by glaring at me and shaking their finger. But over 80% of people were positive and showed support.
I had planned to protest one day only, to make a point, but after so many people came forward, saying I had encouraged them, I left that afternoon, feeling I had to go back. Maybe there were more people out there who needed to see a sign of courage and solidarity. And, I started taking phone numbers and names of those who had been abused. I started to wonder what I should do with the information I was being given.
Driving home, after that first day, felt GREAT. I was proud of myself, and more than anything, surprised to find there had been a purpose in it. Maybe God had allowed certain things to happen to me, I thought, or wondered, because only HE knew what my response would be and that I was going to speak up.
I determined to go back the next day.
I walked into the police station and the officer at the desk was a "Michael" with a very long and Italian last name. He said I could protest and I told him I didn't want to do it at the Abbey, or on their grounds, but close to the Abbey. So he drew out a map for me of the property boundaries and showed me a cross-street and housing development which came before the driveway up to the Abbey. He said I would be legal if I protested there, as long as it was not blocking off a sidewalk. I thanked him and drove to the location he had specified.
I set out a folding chair and hammered the signs into the ground. I took my book out and began to read, and waited for eggs and rotten tomatoes, but feeling glad someone from the Abbey was going to see me and start asking questions, and knowing it was going to get back to the Abbot.
I wasn't there long at all when people driving by began to stop. They stopped their cars and got out, or pulled alongside the road to talk out the window, and almost every single one passing by was waving, smiling, giving a thumbs up, and one woman drove by yelling, "JUSTICE!!!!!"
I had so many people coming to me, telling me how they were abused by clergy, or how their relative was, or friend, that I was shocked. The town, it seemed, was FILLED with people who had been (usually) sexually abused by clergy. I had adult men telling me things they hadn't told anyone before, they said, at least not to a lawyer or to the police. Almost all of them said it encouraged them to see me out there, taking a stand.
Then I had one or two individuals from the Abbey come down from the hill to find out what I was doing and ask me how long I planned to protest. "I don't know," I said. "What do you want?" they asked. And one or two people drove by glaring at me and shaking their finger. But over 80% of people were positive and showed support.
I had planned to protest one day only, to make a point, but after so many people came forward, saying I had encouraged them, I left that afternoon, feeling I had to go back. Maybe there were more people out there who needed to see a sign of courage and solidarity. And, I started taking phone numbers and names of those who had been abused. I started to wonder what I should do with the information I was being given.
Driving home, after that first day, felt GREAT. I was proud of myself, and more than anything, surprised to find there had been a purpose in it. Maybe God had allowed certain things to happen to me, I thought, or wondered, because only HE knew what my response would be and that I was going to speak up.
I determined to go back the next day.
TTSOML #42: My Contemplation Before The Protest
My car was being vandalized, I was being threatened and followed, provoked and given the runaround, and THEN I find out, on top of it all, I was under "investigation" and surveillance by police, at the Mt. Angel Abbey's bidding.
After I found this out, after repeatedly being told not to tell anyone, and to be quiet, I contemplated protesting. I guess I thought about Rosa Parks.
I also thought how it would make me "look". Maybe like a lunatic. My whole life, I'd been a conformist who was secretly a radical on the inside. I DID want to have kids and be married to someone nice and have a normal life, but I wanted to fight for myself and good causes as well, and that's not always popular.
I thought, if I protest by myself, I will look like a nut. Then again, I'd be getting word out and taking a stand, and showing the monks they shouldn't be trying to intimidate me. I didn't think their bad behavior should be rewarded with my silence.
My family was of no help, being the "forgive and forget" type who knew I was being railroaded but who thought I should just give up the ghost, lay low (in a shallow grave I guess), and "don't make them mad". They were already "mad", in more than one way. I was tired of this "justice is for the next life--the afterlife" mentality. THAT mentality was exactly what allowed them to get away with their crap for hundreds of years, and not just them, but other wrongdoers.
But I did consider myself. I didn't get angry one day and run up to the Abbey and started protesting and causing havoc. I went home, and put a lot of thought into the pros and cons. Pro--it was the right thing to do, and would not just benefit me but possibly others. Con--I was never going to be married because I would be a societal liability or embarrassment. Most men do not like radicals, or maybe, my entire life, I had simply not met the right kind of man for me. At any rate, based on what I knew of the species, I was committing myself to voluntary spinsterdom if I should dare make a peep, sign in hand.
I feel I made the right choice and if I could do it over, I would make the exact same decision. I decided to protest. I decided to make signs "Stop the Abuse!" and "I Was Abused By _______" to directly reject their threats and coercion. I also decided I would sit in a chair and put the signs in the ground and not hold them, because I didn't want to walk around pumping a sign up and down, which, I felt, looked crazier. I was also in college at the time so I figured I could ask the police where to legally protest on public grounds, put the signs in the ground, and then read for my classes while I sat in the chair. I could both study for my classes and make a stand. Two birds with one stone.
I planned to protest just one day. All I wanted to do, at that point, was make a point ("Don't you dare try to shut ME/US up!"). I thought I would face a lot of angry people, and maybe even eggs.
The day I drove up with my signs, I was so nervous, my legs were shaking as I drove. I was still a prayer person, and I prayed the whole way up, that what I was going to do would make a difference for someone besides myself.
Instead of being egged, I was shocked at the support which followed, by everyone except some Abbey clergy and the police. The Willamette Week made it sound as though I was on Abbey grounds, acting like a public nuisance. I never protested on Abbey grounds. I did it in the town, outside of Abbey property, and I had so many people come up to thank me for what I was doing, and telling me what their own personal story was, of abuse, that I decided I had to do it more than one day. The Abbey didn't want anyone to follow in my shoes and get any "ideas" I guess, so they had the Willamette Week write an article which disparaged my character and used a caustionary tale to scare off anyone else from following suit. The Abbey also immediately contacted an officer who worked for Mt. Angel police AND went to their church, and on that first day, told him to give me a citation while I was in the middle of my peaceful protest.
Details next.
After I found this out, after repeatedly being told not to tell anyone, and to be quiet, I contemplated protesting. I guess I thought about Rosa Parks.
I also thought how it would make me "look". Maybe like a lunatic. My whole life, I'd been a conformist who was secretly a radical on the inside. I DID want to have kids and be married to someone nice and have a normal life, but I wanted to fight for myself and good causes as well, and that's not always popular.
I thought, if I protest by myself, I will look like a nut. Then again, I'd be getting word out and taking a stand, and showing the monks they shouldn't be trying to intimidate me. I didn't think their bad behavior should be rewarded with my silence.
My family was of no help, being the "forgive and forget" type who knew I was being railroaded but who thought I should just give up the ghost, lay low (in a shallow grave I guess), and "don't make them mad". They were already "mad", in more than one way. I was tired of this "justice is for the next life--the afterlife" mentality. THAT mentality was exactly what allowed them to get away with their crap for hundreds of years, and not just them, but other wrongdoers.
But I did consider myself. I didn't get angry one day and run up to the Abbey and started protesting and causing havoc. I went home, and put a lot of thought into the pros and cons. Pro--it was the right thing to do, and would not just benefit me but possibly others. Con--I was never going to be married because I would be a societal liability or embarrassment. Most men do not like radicals, or maybe, my entire life, I had simply not met the right kind of man for me. At any rate, based on what I knew of the species, I was committing myself to voluntary spinsterdom if I should dare make a peep, sign in hand.
I feel I made the right choice and if I could do it over, I would make the exact same decision. I decided to protest. I decided to make signs "Stop the Abuse!" and "I Was Abused By _______" to directly reject their threats and coercion. I also decided I would sit in a chair and put the signs in the ground and not hold them, because I didn't want to walk around pumping a sign up and down, which, I felt, looked crazier. I was also in college at the time so I figured I could ask the police where to legally protest on public grounds, put the signs in the ground, and then read for my classes while I sat in the chair. I could both study for my classes and make a stand. Two birds with one stone.
I planned to protest just one day. All I wanted to do, at that point, was make a point ("Don't you dare try to shut ME/US up!"). I thought I would face a lot of angry people, and maybe even eggs.
The day I drove up with my signs, I was so nervous, my legs were shaking as I drove. I was still a prayer person, and I prayed the whole way up, that what I was going to do would make a difference for someone besides myself.
Instead of being egged, I was shocked at the support which followed, by everyone except some Abbey clergy and the police. The Willamette Week made it sound as though I was on Abbey grounds, acting like a public nuisance. I never protested on Abbey grounds. I did it in the town, outside of Abbey property, and I had so many people come up to thank me for what I was doing, and telling me what their own personal story was, of abuse, that I decided I had to do it more than one day. The Abbey didn't want anyone to follow in my shoes and get any "ideas" I guess, so they had the Willamette Week write an article which disparaged my character and used a caustionary tale to scare off anyone else from following suit. The Abbey also immediately contacted an officer who worked for Mt. Angel police AND went to their church, and on that first day, told him to give me a citation while I was in the middle of my peaceful protest.
Details next.
Wenatchee Public Defender Problem
I'm a little slower this morning and realized I haven't taken any OTCs.
My public defender is doing nothing for me, not even contacting me about emergency petitions I want to make for my son's rights, change of venue, or to contact my doctor, or help me with visitation rights. I feel I'm forced to be pro se, when I've already requested assistance.
I know the system is overburdened, but this is unacceptable. If Chelan-Douglas can't manage to find enough lawyers, pay enough, or reduce the workloads, they need to stop arresting people and taking their kids until these people can be assured at least a REASONABLE defense.
I think Wenatchee needs to be incorporated into King county. I don't think they can monitor themselves, and being their own island has given them too much small-town power. Seattle needs to take over.
In the meantime, I'm having to miss visitation with my son this week because I don't have a PD making a motion for my right to accomodation of disability (physical) and change of venue and I cannot take that trip and have already given everyone a doctor's note about it.
I hear people are sometimes released from jail for "overcrowding". In this situation, no one should be arrested or have their kids taken to begin with. No one is getting adequate defense and therefore, everyone is just being railroaded right into whatever the Wenatchee prosecutors want.
It's sick.
People over here end up with criminal records they shouldn't have to begin with, and then it's all downhill. And they have their kids taken for political reasons and lack of grounds, and no one questions it. None of this stuff would fly in King County or anywhere else.
My public defender is doing nothing for me, not even contacting me about emergency petitions I want to make for my son's rights, change of venue, or to contact my doctor, or help me with visitation rights. I feel I'm forced to be pro se, when I've already requested assistance.
I know the system is overburdened, but this is unacceptable. If Chelan-Douglas can't manage to find enough lawyers, pay enough, or reduce the workloads, they need to stop arresting people and taking their kids until these people can be assured at least a REASONABLE defense.
I think Wenatchee needs to be incorporated into King county. I don't think they can monitor themselves, and being their own island has given them too much small-town power. Seattle needs to take over.
In the meantime, I'm having to miss visitation with my son this week because I don't have a PD making a motion for my right to accomodation of disability (physical) and change of venue and I cannot take that trip and have already given everyone a doctor's note about it.
I hear people are sometimes released from jail for "overcrowding". In this situation, no one should be arrested or have their kids taken to begin with. No one is getting adequate defense and therefore, everyone is just being railroaded right into whatever the Wenatchee prosecutors want.
It's sick.
People over here end up with criminal records they shouldn't have to begin with, and then it's all downhill. And they have their kids taken for political reasons and lack of grounds, and no one questions it. None of this stuff would fly in King County or anywhere else.
TTSOML #41: Christa, Austria, & Vandalisms
The monks knew I still went to my old church occasionally. I also told them I acted as a welcoming committee, and that because the church was smaller, I introduced myself to anyone new coming in, so they wouldn't feel self-conscious.
After I told Fr. Joachim about Br. Ansgar (before going to the Abbot), a new family came to the church. I introduced myself to the "Schneiders". It wasn't just Christa, but her mom and Dad. For the longest time, years even, although I wondered, I just couldn't believe Christa was connected to the Abbey lawyers in any way. I then thought perhaps someone was listening in to my conversations and emails with her, and finally, I had to accept it was more likely she was directly giving information to others about me. By the time I felt I had enough evidence, I wasn't even shocked.
Her father was Robert Schneider, and he had formerly been a U.S. attorney for the District of Oregon.
Christa was the one to initiate going out with me outside of church, and I thought we hit it off. Initially, I had been better friends with her roommate, who was Hungarian, and who was interested in taking a "European tour". I thought I still had some money left from selling my house as I found a check for $10,000 in a stack of my mail. I decided I wanted to spend it by traveling a little with Anika (I think this was her name) and then settling in Austria to do more volunteer work with youth. I also chose Austria because there were a lot of primary documents about darwinism, greenies, and other things I was interested in researching then--including religion and Catholicism.
About the time I met Christa, I started having car vandalisms. (Most of the vandalisms happened after I moved out of the Tualatin apartment and began primarily when I moved to a new studio, on my own, in Tigard. So first I was in Lake Oswego, then Tualatin, then Tigard. I also had a lot of break-ins into my apartment in Tigard, and one time, the only thing taken was a CD which I helped to record as a back-up singer. Nothing else was missing.)
I remember one incident in particular, when I still lived in Lake Oswego and was going to meet up with some guy who worked at a bike shop in L.O. and had asked me out. I told Christa about it and where I was meeting him. It was my second date with him I think, and it was going to be the last one. When I finished dinner with him, I went to my car, and the tires had been slashed vigorously. I was parked on the other side of town, and had already had vandalisms done to my car near my apartment, and at college, work places, and then where I was parked for social things. This was maybe the second time something happened with my car. The first time, my antenna kept getting vandalized and a mechanic told me it was purposeful and strange, and later when I went back to the same mechanic after my radiator blew up, he told me someone had disconnected the hose and there was no way it was an accident. I don't think Christa did anything but I now wonder who was getting information about me, and I do know they had to have been RCC.
I met with Anika about Europe and I remember telling her about some of these things that were happening to my car. She stopped and looked at me, and had a strange expression on her face. It was like she was putting something together in her mind. When I found out the $10,000 check was an old one and that I'd already spent one which was reissued when I'd lost the first, I told her I couldn't go afterall. She said okay and left me with a strong warning: "Stay away from Christa. She's psycho."
I knew they'd had some conflicts and assumed it was bad-roommate blood between them. I became friends with Christa and she asked me to go out with her for a drink on Fridays, in Portland. I told the monks all about it. I also, about the time things were falling apart with the monks, and after feeling frustrated with "junk jobs", I decided to enroll in college again. I went back to the community college. I had decent grades but realized, as things got out of hand later with the monks, that the only way I was going to make it, and stay in school, was if I planned carefully.
Before I enrolled again, I had my car towed several times by Triple A, for slashed and punctured tires, every so many weeks, and then radiator blow ups after being parked at the college parking lot, and other malfunctions.
I also noticed being followed around this time, and became distressed because all of this was happening while the monks were covering things up what happened there, giving me the runaround, and I felt, sort of egging me on and abandoning me all at once.
Christa wanted to talk about everything except what was happening with the monks. She wanted my entire life story and family history, and to know my plans day-to-day, but wouldn't respond to email about the RCC or monks. She knew which jobs I was applying for, what classes I was taking, who I was dating, everything.
I later found out she was baptized Catholic and I believe her entire family is, and she claimed they became "born again" later. Almost all of her friends, I later realized, were also Catholic, and I thought it was no big deal.
After I met Christa, and realized I couldn't go to Austria, I moved out of Lake Oswego (where I'd been for a couple of years) and to Tualatin, Oregon, sharing an apartment with Sharon Anderson, someone I was introduced to at church.
Sharon was from Medford and Nick Fanelli had introduced us. We didn't know eachother and on the day we moved in, I noted the chrome on every piece of furniture she brought into the house, as she gaped at the worldmarket bead curtains I hung in my doorway, made out of shellacked nuts. She brought in a huge flatscreen T.V. and I hauled in very large, heavy, and solid clay pots, filled with climbing red roses, white hydrangeas, and cyprus and juniper trees, filling up the deck. She brought in a new laptop and I had a desktop from 1998. I remember seeing her read one book: The Bible, and I had my entire hallway lined with about 40 books from the public library, about the "Green Revolution", Darwinism, Germany's social and political climate, and the development of the Nazi party and their ideological roots. At that time, one of my questions was whether Darwinism shaped Nazi ideas, or how it contributed to the survival of the fittest mentality and acceptance of Hitler's thinking.
To put it best, our rooming situation was ill-fitted and a disaster. At some point I noticed a photo of Mary in her room, which I wondered about as well, but the worst part of living there those 6 months or so was that on the last few days, almost all of my good clothes from Nordstrom and specialty shops, were stolen. My leather jacket, a wool sweater from 1970s Munich Olympic days (it had been my mothers and I loved that sweater!), almost all of my good shirts, a long wool coat, skirts...
And then a few months later, or right around that time, my passport and guitar were stolen from my car at a Goodwill parking lot in Tigard. The rest of my purse was left behind. That happened right around Halloween, in the fall following my meeting with the Abbot.
I really need to get out the timeline don't I, and nail all these dates down.
After I told Fr. Joachim about Br. Ansgar (before going to the Abbot), a new family came to the church. I introduced myself to the "Schneiders". It wasn't just Christa, but her mom and Dad. For the longest time, years even, although I wondered, I just couldn't believe Christa was connected to the Abbey lawyers in any way. I then thought perhaps someone was listening in to my conversations and emails with her, and finally, I had to accept it was more likely she was directly giving information to others about me. By the time I felt I had enough evidence, I wasn't even shocked.
Her father was Robert Schneider, and he had formerly been a U.S. attorney for the District of Oregon.
Christa was the one to initiate going out with me outside of church, and I thought we hit it off. Initially, I had been better friends with her roommate, who was Hungarian, and who was interested in taking a "European tour". I thought I still had some money left from selling my house as I found a check for $10,000 in a stack of my mail. I decided I wanted to spend it by traveling a little with Anika (I think this was her name) and then settling in Austria to do more volunteer work with youth. I also chose Austria because there were a lot of primary documents about darwinism, greenies, and other things I was interested in researching then--including religion and Catholicism.
About the time I met Christa, I started having car vandalisms. (Most of the vandalisms happened after I moved out of the Tualatin apartment and began primarily when I moved to a new studio, on my own, in Tigard. So first I was in Lake Oswego, then Tualatin, then Tigard. I also had a lot of break-ins into my apartment in Tigard, and one time, the only thing taken was a CD which I helped to record as a back-up singer. Nothing else was missing.)
I remember one incident in particular, when I still lived in Lake Oswego and was going to meet up with some guy who worked at a bike shop in L.O. and had asked me out. I told Christa about it and where I was meeting him. It was my second date with him I think, and it was going to be the last one. When I finished dinner with him, I went to my car, and the tires had been slashed vigorously. I was parked on the other side of town, and had already had vandalisms done to my car near my apartment, and at college, work places, and then where I was parked for social things. This was maybe the second time something happened with my car. The first time, my antenna kept getting vandalized and a mechanic told me it was purposeful and strange, and later when I went back to the same mechanic after my radiator blew up, he told me someone had disconnected the hose and there was no way it was an accident. I don't think Christa did anything but I now wonder who was getting information about me, and I do know they had to have been RCC.
I met with Anika about Europe and I remember telling her about some of these things that were happening to my car. She stopped and looked at me, and had a strange expression on her face. It was like she was putting something together in her mind. When I found out the $10,000 check was an old one and that I'd already spent one which was reissued when I'd lost the first, I told her I couldn't go afterall. She said okay and left me with a strong warning: "Stay away from Christa. She's psycho."
I knew they'd had some conflicts and assumed it was bad-roommate blood between them. I became friends with Christa and she asked me to go out with her for a drink on Fridays, in Portland. I told the monks all about it. I also, about the time things were falling apart with the monks, and after feeling frustrated with "junk jobs", I decided to enroll in college again. I went back to the community college. I had decent grades but realized, as things got out of hand later with the monks, that the only way I was going to make it, and stay in school, was if I planned carefully.
Before I enrolled again, I had my car towed several times by Triple A, for slashed and punctured tires, every so many weeks, and then radiator blow ups after being parked at the college parking lot, and other malfunctions.
I also noticed being followed around this time, and became distressed because all of this was happening while the monks were covering things up what happened there, giving me the runaround, and I felt, sort of egging me on and abandoning me all at once.
Christa wanted to talk about everything except what was happening with the monks. She wanted my entire life story and family history, and to know my plans day-to-day, but wouldn't respond to email about the RCC or monks. She knew which jobs I was applying for, what classes I was taking, who I was dating, everything.
I later found out she was baptized Catholic and I believe her entire family is, and she claimed they became "born again" later. Almost all of her friends, I later realized, were also Catholic, and I thought it was no big deal.
After I met Christa, and realized I couldn't go to Austria, I moved out of Lake Oswego (where I'd been for a couple of years) and to Tualatin, Oregon, sharing an apartment with Sharon Anderson, someone I was introduced to at church.
Sharon was from Medford and Nick Fanelli had introduced us. We didn't know eachother and on the day we moved in, I noted the chrome on every piece of furniture she brought into the house, as she gaped at the worldmarket bead curtains I hung in my doorway, made out of shellacked nuts. She brought in a huge flatscreen T.V. and I hauled in very large, heavy, and solid clay pots, filled with climbing red roses, white hydrangeas, and cyprus and juniper trees, filling up the deck. She brought in a new laptop and I had a desktop from 1998. I remember seeing her read one book: The Bible, and I had my entire hallway lined with about 40 books from the public library, about the "Green Revolution", Darwinism, Germany's social and political climate, and the development of the Nazi party and their ideological roots. At that time, one of my questions was whether Darwinism shaped Nazi ideas, or how it contributed to the survival of the fittest mentality and acceptance of Hitler's thinking.
To put it best, our rooming situation was ill-fitted and a disaster. At some point I noticed a photo of Mary in her room, which I wondered about as well, but the worst part of living there those 6 months or so was that on the last few days, almost all of my good clothes from Nordstrom and specialty shops, were stolen. My leather jacket, a wool sweater from 1970s Munich Olympic days (it had been my mothers and I loved that sweater!), almost all of my good shirts, a long wool coat, skirts...
And then a few months later, or right around that time, my passport and guitar were stolen from my car at a Goodwill parking lot in Tigard. The rest of my purse was left behind. That happened right around Halloween, in the fall following my meeting with the Abbot.
I really need to get out the timeline don't I, and nail all these dates down.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Snoring Boring
UPDATE: this post has been deleted!
I woke up at 4:30 a.m. with one thought on my mind: "Oh noooo!" Feeling the horror of what I'd written hours before, I still couldn't manage to drag myself out of bed for a half hour 'til now.
Being a little tipsy isn't bad for writing, but exhaustion is a killer. I realize it's already too late, really, having hit the other side of the country at a normal hour, and read by too many people, and I hope there is no "snapshot" picture of that post, but it's gone now.
I woke up at 4:30 a.m. with one thought on my mind: "Oh noooo!" Feeling the horror of what I'd written hours before, I still couldn't manage to drag myself out of bed for a half hour 'til now.
Being a little tipsy isn't bad for writing, but exhaustion is a killer. I realize it's already too late, really, having hit the other side of the country at a normal hour, and read by too many people, and I hope there is no "snapshot" picture of that post, but it's gone now.
TTSOML #40: Map of Mt. Angel & Birth Control of Justice
I wish I could post a map of the town of Mt. Angel and the Abbey and how they are connected. It would give a better picture of how far apart they are, where I was when I decided to "protest", and the location of the dirt road on the Abbey property that Br. Ansgar was leading me down. I may try to find a map somewhere online and link to it and then explain the positions. It matters, because the entirety of the Willamette Week article is a huge extended and fabricated lie, and they KNEW, because I drew out a map for them, and faxed them letters from Br. Ansgar and a bunch of other things, including corrections, because I heard ahead of time that they wanted to smear me (and did). I didn't do more than half of the things they claimed I did, and they distorted everything, including the timeline, and omitted evidence which showed I was the one to "break things off" with Ansgar, not the other way around. I didn't protest on Abbey property either, contrary to the article. Once I eventually get the time that the Willamette Week wrote their article about me, I will post the entire article and then go through the whole thing, pointing out which parts were false, which they and their editors refused to correct, believing (rightly) I was too poor to ever sue them them for defamation. I found out that only the rich have an avenue for defending their civil rights, because no public defender is appointed for this. I also found out, the right to jury trial is practically non-existant anymore, with the easy-abortion of justice made simple through "summary judgment", which is a procedure that originally was to be used on rare occasions, not as an automatic form of justice-and-damages-birth-control. More on THAT later.
TTSOML #39: Mt. Angel Police "Date" & Decision to Protest
I was walking around downtown Mt. Angel, waiting for the library to open. I was still using the library to check out books. What was going on with the monks was more than disturbing, but my primary interest had always been religion, and that hadn't quit. So I was still doing research. The library was closed and I decided to kill some time downtown.
I was walking down the sidewalk when a younger man (late 20s or early 30s) approached me on a bicycle. He talked to me for a short while and then asked me out on a date. I said I was going to the library to check out some books and that I could meet him afterwards. He asked if he should meet me on Abbey grounds and I said sure. We talked for awhile and then he asked for my name. I told him, "Cameo". I noticed his body language as he froze and looked at me closely. But he didn't say anything. So I passed by and went to the Abbey.
I was waiting for him, against the wall, when he drove up, in his police car. No big deal, I already knew he was a police officer (he'd been wearing his uniform on the bike). But he pulled alongside me and said, "I didn't know who you were at first." I didn't know what he was talking about.
"What do you mean?"
He, "Scott", said, "You've been on our board for months."
I didn't know what he was talking about. "What do you mean, your "board"?"
Scott said, "Your name has been on our board. You've been under investigation."
I was shocked. "For WHAT?!"
He said, "The Abbey told us you were mentally unstable and potentially dangerous." (this is another direct quote because one doesn't forget a statement like that).
"I haven't done anything," I said. I hadn't yelled at anyone, I didn't swear, and I didn't even go up to the Abbey for the same months I was under investigation, until finally to get some more books. I had done absolutely nothing wrong. The officer admitted,
"We've never seen you do anything wrong, and we've had you under surveillance."
Then he said why didn't I go with him, and we'd talk some more. I said okay. He wanted me to take my own car and then "secretly" meet him in a parking lot where he said, we wouldn't be noticed. I said okay, so I drove to meet him, and by that time, it was getting dark. He took me with him, or had me follow him first to a convenience store to get some candy and coffee because, he said, he was working that night. Then we drove to a parking lot and parked next to other cars. We just talked out of our windows. I asked him a lot of questions about what was going on. He said people were coming into their station making a lot of reports about being abused as kids, and telling them not to tell anyone and that they didn't want anyone to be charged, but just wanted them to know, to protect others and in case anyone else came forward. He said they'd already had about 7-8 reports like that. Then he asked me to meet him again at a later date, in Mt. Angel and I agreed.
The next time I met him, it was in a building across the street from the police station. I didn't know, at the time, that this building was owned by the police station, even though it wasn't a part of it, or didn't look like it. Scott called it their "storage room". Then it got weird. It was freezing cold in there, and he pulled out a folding metal chair for me. Then he pulled out a metal chair for himself. He gave me a cup of coffee or I had one already, I don't remember. And then he proceeded to question me. He asked what I was doing at the Abbey, and a number of other questions. Then he asked if I'd ever wanted to harm anyone. I looked at him, dumbfounded. I looked him straight in the eye. "I've never hurt anyone in my life, or wanted to. I don't even kill spiders! I get out a glass jar and help them in and then I take them outside." Scott laughed at that, but prior to this, he was hard-hitting. We left. It never occured to me, that I had just been interrogated. For one thing, I didn't know I was on police property. I was told it was an independent storage unit. No one read me my rights either.
And, Scott was telling me he was interested in me and he had first asked me on a date. He told me he was divorced and had kids, and that he had some PTSD or depression from his line of work. I found out later, from someone in town, that this storage unit was part of the police station and it was used during the Mt. Angel Octoberfest, by police, as a station or promotional stand.
After Scott told me I had been slandered by the monks, and that they had asked police to investigate me, I was shocked, alarmed, and angered. More than that, I was curious. I still went to my old church occasionally, and no one ever thought I was "unstable" and the monks had known me over a year and never thought so until I "reported" Br. Ansgar's advances. I had never been harassed before, and even held up under the constant runaround. I realized they had slandered me, and then had been attempting to provoke a reaction out of me which they could claim, to the Mt. Angel police, was "evidence". But they never got it. What they got instead, is me, finding this out, and starting to wonder why they were working so hard against me. Was it because of the dogma research? because of the Native American burial ground? because of the lawyer I'd mentioned, who said I'd been 'exploited'? because of Ansgar's position? or a combination of these things?
I started thinking more and more about whether there was a chapel in the woods, because maybe there WASN'T, and this was what they were trying to conceal, knowing their monk had been trying to take me out into the woods, lying to me about where he was taking me besides.
The Abbey cover up only reinforced to me that something was going on, which they wanted to conceal.
I was also totally shocked that they had attempted to use law enforcement and the justice system against me, knowing I was innocent. I had never heard of such a thing and knew it had to be illegal. They were acting like a medieval Catholic church, using police against me for their own gain and agenda. I knew it was illegal.
I thought, if they are doing this, how many other women have they tried to intimidate and threatened? And if they were trying to cover this up, what ELSE did they cover up? Most people would just shut up and disappear, under the threats and coercion.
I was tired of being a doormat, by that time, and I knew I was a moral and good person, and I felt, "righteously angry". I decided, if they are going to do THIS, what should I do now? I thought about women who are railroaded and cast as mentally ill and in a "fatal attraction" light, and I decided, the American thing to do would be to protest.
If they wanted to shut me up, and were using police unlawfully against me, I was thinking about taking advantage of my civil right to SPEAK UP by protesting peacefully.
I had never done such a thing before, and all my life I'd been submissive to authority and especially religious authority. But they had nullified their right to blind obedience and authority when they crossed the line and chose to smear me and who knows how many other people.
It wasn't a rash decision. I contemplated it for at least a week. I was extremely nervous and thought about the consequences. But I decided it was the right thing to do, on principle. They were not going to bully ME, or any other woman around, ever AGAIN.
So I thought.
I was walking down the sidewalk when a younger man (late 20s or early 30s) approached me on a bicycle. He talked to me for a short while and then asked me out on a date. I said I was going to the library to check out some books and that I could meet him afterwards. He asked if he should meet me on Abbey grounds and I said sure. We talked for awhile and then he asked for my name. I told him, "Cameo". I noticed his body language as he froze and looked at me closely. But he didn't say anything. So I passed by and went to the Abbey.
I was waiting for him, against the wall, when he drove up, in his police car. No big deal, I already knew he was a police officer (he'd been wearing his uniform on the bike). But he pulled alongside me and said, "I didn't know who you were at first." I didn't know what he was talking about.
"What do you mean?"
He, "Scott", said, "You've been on our board for months."
I didn't know what he was talking about. "What do you mean, your "board"?"
Scott said, "Your name has been on our board. You've been under investigation."
I was shocked. "For WHAT?!"
He said, "The Abbey told us you were mentally unstable and potentially dangerous." (this is another direct quote because one doesn't forget a statement like that).
"I haven't done anything," I said. I hadn't yelled at anyone, I didn't swear, and I didn't even go up to the Abbey for the same months I was under investigation, until finally to get some more books. I had done absolutely nothing wrong. The officer admitted,
"We've never seen you do anything wrong, and we've had you under surveillance."
Then he said why didn't I go with him, and we'd talk some more. I said okay. He wanted me to take my own car and then "secretly" meet him in a parking lot where he said, we wouldn't be noticed. I said okay, so I drove to meet him, and by that time, it was getting dark. He took me with him, or had me follow him first to a convenience store to get some candy and coffee because, he said, he was working that night. Then we drove to a parking lot and parked next to other cars. We just talked out of our windows. I asked him a lot of questions about what was going on. He said people were coming into their station making a lot of reports about being abused as kids, and telling them not to tell anyone and that they didn't want anyone to be charged, but just wanted them to know, to protect others and in case anyone else came forward. He said they'd already had about 7-8 reports like that. Then he asked me to meet him again at a later date, in Mt. Angel and I agreed.
The next time I met him, it was in a building across the street from the police station. I didn't know, at the time, that this building was owned by the police station, even though it wasn't a part of it, or didn't look like it. Scott called it their "storage room". Then it got weird. It was freezing cold in there, and he pulled out a folding metal chair for me. Then he pulled out a metal chair for himself. He gave me a cup of coffee or I had one already, I don't remember. And then he proceeded to question me. He asked what I was doing at the Abbey, and a number of other questions. Then he asked if I'd ever wanted to harm anyone. I looked at him, dumbfounded. I looked him straight in the eye. "I've never hurt anyone in my life, or wanted to. I don't even kill spiders! I get out a glass jar and help them in and then I take them outside." Scott laughed at that, but prior to this, he was hard-hitting. We left. It never occured to me, that I had just been interrogated. For one thing, I didn't know I was on police property. I was told it was an independent storage unit. No one read me my rights either.
And, Scott was telling me he was interested in me and he had first asked me on a date. He told me he was divorced and had kids, and that he had some PTSD or depression from his line of work. I found out later, from someone in town, that this storage unit was part of the police station and it was used during the Mt. Angel Octoberfest, by police, as a station or promotional stand.
After Scott told me I had been slandered by the monks, and that they had asked police to investigate me, I was shocked, alarmed, and angered. More than that, I was curious. I still went to my old church occasionally, and no one ever thought I was "unstable" and the monks had known me over a year and never thought so until I "reported" Br. Ansgar's advances. I had never been harassed before, and even held up under the constant runaround. I realized they had slandered me, and then had been attempting to provoke a reaction out of me which they could claim, to the Mt. Angel police, was "evidence". But they never got it. What they got instead, is me, finding this out, and starting to wonder why they were working so hard against me. Was it because of the dogma research? because of the Native American burial ground? because of the lawyer I'd mentioned, who said I'd been 'exploited'? because of Ansgar's position? or a combination of these things?
I started thinking more and more about whether there was a chapel in the woods, because maybe there WASN'T, and this was what they were trying to conceal, knowing their monk had been trying to take me out into the woods, lying to me about where he was taking me besides.
The Abbey cover up only reinforced to me that something was going on, which they wanted to conceal.
I was also totally shocked that they had attempted to use law enforcement and the justice system against me, knowing I was innocent. I had never heard of such a thing and knew it had to be illegal. They were acting like a medieval Catholic church, using police against me for their own gain and agenda. I knew it was illegal.
I thought, if they are doing this, how many other women have they tried to intimidate and threatened? And if they were trying to cover this up, what ELSE did they cover up? Most people would just shut up and disappear, under the threats and coercion.
I was tired of being a doormat, by that time, and I knew I was a moral and good person, and I felt, "righteously angry". I decided, if they are going to do THIS, what should I do now? I thought about women who are railroaded and cast as mentally ill and in a "fatal attraction" light, and I decided, the American thing to do would be to protest.
If they wanted to shut me up, and were using police unlawfully against me, I was thinking about taking advantage of my civil right to SPEAK UP by protesting peacefully.
I had never done such a thing before, and all my life I'd been submissive to authority and especially religious authority. But they had nullified their right to blind obedience and authority when they crossed the line and chose to smear me and who knows how many other people.
It wasn't a rash decision. I contemplated it for at least a week. I was extremely nervous and thought about the consequences. But I decided it was the right thing to do, on principle. They were not going to bully ME, or any other woman around, ever AGAIN.
So I thought.
TTSOML 38: Mt. Angel Abbey Runaround
I believe the police were called upon to "investigate" me after I met with the Abbot, but I'm not positive. I tried to find out the exact date, and the Mt. Angel police refused to give me records. At any rate, I found out it was certaintly after I told Fr. Joachim what was going on.
The Abbot promised me, at the end of my meeting with him, to give me copies of the "policies" governing monk conduct or vows. He promised to get back to me. Also, I had told the Abbot that I had loaned Br. Ansgar a couple of photos of me and I wanted them back because they were original family photos.
One was of me in The Dominican Republic, with just my head showing, as I was surrounded by a bunch of people in the village whose houses we helped build, and the other was an older one of my immediate family. In that photo, we were all sitting on the couch and I am about 6 years old holding a Persian cat, and the family Shelties were also in the photo. It was me, my younger brother, mother, father, and we sat beneath a framed portrait of Jesus. I gave this one to Br. Ansgar to show him not all "Protestants" are opposed to artistic renderings of Jesus and/or saints. These were the only photos I gave him. They were certaintly not "seductive" unless one has a fetish for headshots and little girls holding a cat. I didn't have negatives or copies of these photos. I had also loaned him a CD, which Ansgar later said was "broken".
So I waited, and waited, and waited. I didn't go up to the Abbey after meeting the Abbot, for months. I called several times from my house and each time, Lynne Morris would tell me to "call again, he's out" or "Ask the Abbot" and then I'd call the Abbot who would say, "This isn't my responsibilty--Lynne would have that information." They kept telling me to call back at this time and that time, and passing me back and forth. I actually didn't even THINK they were giving me the "runaround" at first. I had never had anyone do anything like this to me before, and I thought they were confused and must be extremely busy and confused. So I kept calling as they instructed. Lynne Morris even invited me to come up to the Abbey, which I hadn't been doing, and she told me she'd meet with me. So I drove up, after staying away a couple of months, and I sat in the waiting room for over an hour as she sat at her desk, telling me she would be just "5 more minutes" for an hour. I realized she had no intention of meeting with me. I got up and left and she called after me, "I'm ready to see you now!" I tried one other time, when she said to meet her at a specific time, and when I got there, on time, the door was locked. I waited around for about an hour again and no one ever showed up.
Then they told me to call a different priest, Abbot Peter Eberle. Abbot Eberle said, "Why don't you call Ansgar?" I said, "Why would I call Br. Ansgar? He's the one I've had a problem with!" I never called Br. Ansgar, not even once and I wasn't writing to him. Abbot Eberle kept telling me to call him and that maybe I would get through to him, get an apology, and get my photos back. I thought maybe someone had talked to Br. Ansgar so he was prepared to take a call from me.
So I called Br. Ansgar, about 3 months after meeting the Abbot. He said, "Hello?" and I said, "Hi...Um, this is Cameo and I--" and here Br. Ansgar cut me off, with a dial tone. He had hung up promptly. I thought it was odd, and maybe a mistake, so I tried one more time. He answered again, with a more pleasant "Hello" and I said, "This is Cameo and--" and Br. Ansgar interjected, I quote (because I will NEVER forget this): "I consider calls from you to be harassment and I will treat them as such!" (click). He hung up.
I was on the other end and suddenly, for the first time, it dawned on me. I NEVER called him! And here he was, saying, "I consider callS from you...to be HARASSMENT.." He implied I was calling him all the time, AND made a comment about "harassment" which was a term I'd never had anyone use with me before, in my life. I had just been instructed to CALL him, against my OWN better judgment, and it hit me--
Br. Ansgar had been expecting my call. He hung up on me the first time, so he could press "record" or something on his machine and then wait for my call and make it sound like I was calling him all the time and he was being "harassed". That was the first time I wondered, if he's claiming "harassment", were the police involved?
I realized all of the instruction to call Lynn Morris and Abbot Zodrow over and over, was intentional. I realized making appointments to meet with me and then cancelling and making me wait around, was intentional. I realized telling me to call Br. Ansgar had even been intentional.
I never called Br. Ansgar's number again.
And then I met the Mt. Angel police officer who wanted to date me.
I need to write about my new "friend" who was taking me out on the town as well, who I didn't suspect to be connected to the Abbey, but first I'm going to write about Scott.
The Abbot promised me, at the end of my meeting with him, to give me copies of the "policies" governing monk conduct or vows. He promised to get back to me. Also, I had told the Abbot that I had loaned Br. Ansgar a couple of photos of me and I wanted them back because they were original family photos.
One was of me in The Dominican Republic, with just my head showing, as I was surrounded by a bunch of people in the village whose houses we helped build, and the other was an older one of my immediate family. In that photo, we were all sitting on the couch and I am about 6 years old holding a Persian cat, and the family Shelties were also in the photo. It was me, my younger brother, mother, father, and we sat beneath a framed portrait of Jesus. I gave this one to Br. Ansgar to show him not all "Protestants" are opposed to artistic renderings of Jesus and/or saints. These were the only photos I gave him. They were certaintly not "seductive" unless one has a fetish for headshots and little girls holding a cat. I didn't have negatives or copies of these photos. I had also loaned him a CD, which Ansgar later said was "broken".
So I waited, and waited, and waited. I didn't go up to the Abbey after meeting the Abbot, for months. I called several times from my house and each time, Lynne Morris would tell me to "call again, he's out" or "Ask the Abbot" and then I'd call the Abbot who would say, "This isn't my responsibilty--Lynne would have that information." They kept telling me to call back at this time and that time, and passing me back and forth. I actually didn't even THINK they were giving me the "runaround" at first. I had never had anyone do anything like this to me before, and I thought they were confused and must be extremely busy and confused. So I kept calling as they instructed. Lynne Morris even invited me to come up to the Abbey, which I hadn't been doing, and she told me she'd meet with me. So I drove up, after staying away a couple of months, and I sat in the waiting room for over an hour as she sat at her desk, telling me she would be just "5 more minutes" for an hour. I realized she had no intention of meeting with me. I got up and left and she called after me, "I'm ready to see you now!" I tried one other time, when she said to meet her at a specific time, and when I got there, on time, the door was locked. I waited around for about an hour again and no one ever showed up.
Then they told me to call a different priest, Abbot Peter Eberle. Abbot Eberle said, "Why don't you call Ansgar?" I said, "Why would I call Br. Ansgar? He's the one I've had a problem with!" I never called Br. Ansgar, not even once and I wasn't writing to him. Abbot Eberle kept telling me to call him and that maybe I would get through to him, get an apology, and get my photos back. I thought maybe someone had talked to Br. Ansgar so he was prepared to take a call from me.
So I called Br. Ansgar, about 3 months after meeting the Abbot. He said, "Hello?" and I said, "Hi...Um, this is Cameo and I--" and here Br. Ansgar cut me off, with a dial tone. He had hung up promptly. I thought it was odd, and maybe a mistake, so I tried one more time. He answered again, with a more pleasant "Hello" and I said, "This is Cameo and--" and Br. Ansgar interjected, I quote (because I will NEVER forget this): "I consider calls from you to be harassment and I will treat them as such!" (click). He hung up.
I was on the other end and suddenly, for the first time, it dawned on me. I NEVER called him! And here he was, saying, "I consider callS from you...to be HARASSMENT.." He implied I was calling him all the time, AND made a comment about "harassment" which was a term I'd never had anyone use with me before, in my life. I had just been instructed to CALL him, against my OWN better judgment, and it hit me--
Br. Ansgar had been expecting my call. He hung up on me the first time, so he could press "record" or something on his machine and then wait for my call and make it sound like I was calling him all the time and he was being "harassed". That was the first time I wondered, if he's claiming "harassment", were the police involved?
I realized all of the instruction to call Lynn Morris and Abbot Zodrow over and over, was intentional. I realized making appointments to meet with me and then cancelling and making me wait around, was intentional. I realized telling me to call Br. Ansgar had even been intentional.
I never called Br. Ansgar's number again.
And then I met the Mt. Angel police officer who wanted to date me.
I need to write about my new "friend" who was taking me out on the town as well, who I didn't suspect to be connected to the Abbey, but first I'm going to write about Scott.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Signing Off Tonight
I'll have to write more on the true story stuff tomorrow. I wanted to do more now, but I'm too tired. I shouldn't have had any tequila! I'll get up early.
Universal Healthcare & Privacy
I don't know what to think about Universal healthcare. I think it's necessary and important, and that it should include dental, but besides providing for the health needs of people, I have a couple of questions and concerns.
My first one is a question. I know how it is to be discriminated against by doctors and clinics, when one is on "state aid" insurance. I've had good insurance and then I've had state insurance, and the way one is treated is significantly disparate. HUGE difference. So this makes me wonder, if everyone has the same kind of insurance perhaps this will eliminate at least the surface and immediate discrimination?
My concern is privacy. Which ties in with discrimination. With the state insurance, doctors all sign up to provide through the same HMOs and they can easily go into a database and find out who you're PCP is, and where you're going, and by making a phone call, can discuss your conditions (even in violation of HIPPA).
I imagine having national insurance would mean even less privacy, and that raises serious concerns for me. I don't have AIDS, but if someone DOES, with national insurance, wouldn't it be easier for one doctor to find out and make connections with other doctors? Doctors who are married to men whose best friends work in the same corporation? doctors whose family members have a long-standing rift against someone who sued their cousin, for failing to detect AIDS?
I don't know. I'd have to know how the data is stored and how it is accessed and about the security. Computer hackers can get into anything. So what kind of security is there if everything is on one database which, if a hole is made or found, is left open to others?
My first one is a question. I know how it is to be discriminated against by doctors and clinics, when one is on "state aid" insurance. I've had good insurance and then I've had state insurance, and the way one is treated is significantly disparate. HUGE difference. So this makes me wonder, if everyone has the same kind of insurance perhaps this will eliminate at least the surface and immediate discrimination?
My concern is privacy. Which ties in with discrimination. With the state insurance, doctors all sign up to provide through the same HMOs and they can easily go into a database and find out who you're PCP is, and where you're going, and by making a phone call, can discuss your conditions (even in violation of HIPPA).
I imagine having national insurance would mean even less privacy, and that raises serious concerns for me. I don't have AIDS, but if someone DOES, with national insurance, wouldn't it be easier for one doctor to find out and make connections with other doctors? Doctors who are married to men whose best friends work in the same corporation? doctors whose family members have a long-standing rift against someone who sued their cousin, for failing to detect AIDS?
I don't know. I'd have to know how the data is stored and how it is accessed and about the security. Computer hackers can get into anything. So what kind of security is there if everything is on one database which, if a hole is made or found, is left open to others?
Tequila, Aspirin, & Princess Diana
I'm trying to crank this true story stuff out (which is all true and accurate, and which is the most stressful stuff to write about) and have just had a shot of tequila and 2 aspirin, so bear with me. One shot, by the way, will not impair my ability to recall the events--it will relax me enough, hopefully, to continue.
I am dedicating the rest of what I write, about what happened, to survivors of clergy abuse, all of them--whether they were children or adults when it occured, and of every kind of abuse including emotional, physical, sexual, political, verbal, and any other form of abuse.
And, I always have my son in mind, because what has happened with his abduction from ME, never could have occured without the help and damages of what was done by those within the RCC.
I love you O.
I also, for some reason, crazy as it sounds, want to dedicate this to Princess Diana, and any other woman who has been defamed as "the seductress" or "mentally unbalanced" in an effort to discredit damages or a situation which occured that some don't want others to believe. It seems our worst fault and crime, usually, is to assert ourselves and our voices, and resist being quieted and controlled.
One shot of tequila once or twice a week, does not an addict make, by the way.
I've also thought, if anyone ever plotted Diana's demise, why is it never suggested the RCC could have had an interest? I've heard all kinds of theories about Charles, the royal family, MI5/6, and Israeli's, but nothing about the RCC, and interestingly, Diana was involved with the RCC to some degree, and her own mother converted to Catholicism just before she (the mother) died. If it was MI5/6 Diana was worried about, could there have been a religious motive with certain members in this group? The accident happened in Paris, France too, which is interesting I think. If Diana had married Dodi, her involvement and worldwide popularity would have brought a lot of attention (possibly support) to the Muslim countries and her sons could have been influenced as well, and they could have had half-siblings.
I also think Diana was in love, but she may have been looking out for her sons in her selection of a partner, who had enough resources and an ability to protect her and her sons and provide financial assistance for fighting for their interests. I don't know all the details, but as a mother, knowing the heart and mind of a mother who is not always safe or feels intuitively that something isn't quite "right", this at least crossed her mind. No one questions the Catholic church anymore, about anything, it seems, especially as regards their own intelligence groups and militias, unless the location is specifically Ireland. The RCC and its radicals are not confined to Ireland.
I'm just throwing it out there, and I know nothing of the situation there at all. I just know what has happened to me and my son, and I never would have thought it possible in the United States.
Diana was not paranoid, I don't think. She reacted out of an intuition and a subconscious collection of information which put her on guard. We INFPs (and ENTPs) are in tune with reality, probably moreso than other types.
I am dedicating the rest of what I write, about what happened, to survivors of clergy abuse, all of them--whether they were children or adults when it occured, and of every kind of abuse including emotional, physical, sexual, political, verbal, and any other form of abuse.
And, I always have my son in mind, because what has happened with his abduction from ME, never could have occured without the help and damages of what was done by those within the RCC.
I love you O.
I also, for some reason, crazy as it sounds, want to dedicate this to Princess Diana, and any other woman who has been defamed as "the seductress" or "mentally unbalanced" in an effort to discredit damages or a situation which occured that some don't want others to believe. It seems our worst fault and crime, usually, is to assert ourselves and our voices, and resist being quieted and controlled.
One shot of tequila once or twice a week, does not an addict make, by the way.
I've also thought, if anyone ever plotted Diana's demise, why is it never suggested the RCC could have had an interest? I've heard all kinds of theories about Charles, the royal family, MI5/6, and Israeli's, but nothing about the RCC, and interestingly, Diana was involved with the RCC to some degree, and her own mother converted to Catholicism just before she (the mother) died. If it was MI5/6 Diana was worried about, could there have been a religious motive with certain members in this group? The accident happened in Paris, France too, which is interesting I think. If Diana had married Dodi, her involvement and worldwide popularity would have brought a lot of attention (possibly support) to the Muslim countries and her sons could have been influenced as well, and they could have had half-siblings.
I also think Diana was in love, but she may have been looking out for her sons in her selection of a partner, who had enough resources and an ability to protect her and her sons and provide financial assistance for fighting for their interests. I don't know all the details, but as a mother, knowing the heart and mind of a mother who is not always safe or feels intuitively that something isn't quite "right", this at least crossed her mind. No one questions the Catholic church anymore, about anything, it seems, especially as regards their own intelligence groups and militias, unless the location is specifically Ireland. The RCC and its radicals are not confined to Ireland.
I'm just throwing it out there, and I know nothing of the situation there at all. I just know what has happened to me and my son, and I never would have thought it possible in the United States.
Diana was not paranoid, I don't think. She reacted out of an intuition and a subconscious collection of information which put her on guard. We INFPs (and ENTPs) are in tune with reality, probably moreso than other types.
TTSOML #37: Meeting With The Abbot Nathan Zodrow
I finally made the call to Abbot Nathan Zodrow. Over the telephone, Zodrow accused ME of being the problem, saying things like, "Why were you at our Abbey?" and "Why were you trying to seduce a monk?" I told him I hadn't done anything wrong, and that when I was in doubt, I didn't attempt to conceal what was going on, I sought the advice of a trusted friend and priest, Fr. Joachim. How could anyone say I tried to "seduce" Br. Ansgar?
The Abbot arranged a meeting. I showed up and we met in the building where the monks are housed, but on the administrative floor, with the offices. I was taken into a sitting room and directed to a chair. The Human Resource person for the Abbey, Lynne Morris, (I hope no relation to the Morris's in Wenatchee who are in law enforcement and CPS), sat in one chair with a pen and paper, and the Abbot Nathan Zodrow sat in the other chair.
I told them what had happened, and that I didn't know if it was appropriate or not but I had a bad feeling about it. I was asked if he touched me sexually and I said no, truthfully. Then, as I was telling them about Br. Ansgar's attempt to take me down the road on a walk, I stopped mid-sentence and said, "...Is there a little chapel out there (I pointed) in the woods?" The Abbot and Human Resource person had been listening on auto-pilot until I said this and then they both looked up. Lynne looked at the Abbot nervously. I then noticed the Abbot had a large bead of sweat at the top of his brow, which he brushed away. He was nervous too, and why? unless something was wrong? They wouldn't speak and so I broke the silence, adding, "...I just wondered because Br. Ansgar said he was taking me to see this "exquisite little chapel in the woods" but we never got there." No one would answer me and they changed the topic.
At some point, I began to cry and the Abbot cut me off harshly, saying, "You are not my concern. My concern is for my monks, and I need to know what is happening with them."
He said some other things, basically, that I was not his responsibility in any way, and that he only allowed the meeting so he could find out how his monks were doing and how he could meet THEIR needs.
I had thought an Abbot, or supervisors, should care about what is happening further than that. If their clergy is acting inappropriately, didn't they have a responsibility not just to their monks, but the people that their monks are involved with? I was being directly counseled by two of his clergy, and besides that, I found out later, I COULD legally be considered his "responsibility" because I had been a "volunteer" for his library, and according to most legal cases, a volunteer is accorded the same rights as an employee. They even had my name and address on their volunteer sheet and it was common knowledge I had been helping out there for almost a year.
But I didn't know about this at first, about the rights of a "volunteer" and other legal definitions. All I knew, is that I had just told an Abbot about a matter, and asked for their help or advice, hoping this didn't happen to others, and that with intervention, perhaps it wouldn't happen again.
After this meeting with the Abbot, things went from bad to worse.
As they went from bad to worse, in the middle of the harassment and provocation that happened next, I felt keenly that an intuitive force, or that the Holy Spirit, or God Himself, was directing me in my discoveries. I never should have found out what was out in the woods where the "chapel" was supposed to be. I never should have found out a lot of things, but I did. And despite how horrible and cruel some were, I knew God was on my side, in that I didn't lie about anyone, make false accusations, exaggerate or distort, or try to do anything harmful to another person.
After years of harassment by the Abbey attorneys, I could acknowlege I had some mild PTSD. But otherwise, I was never "unstable" or ill. It took years besides, for them to break me down enough, and even then, it wasn't enough for them. They had to take it further.
The Abbot arranged a meeting. I showed up and we met in the building where the monks are housed, but on the administrative floor, with the offices. I was taken into a sitting room and directed to a chair. The Human Resource person for the Abbey, Lynne Morris, (I hope no relation to the Morris's in Wenatchee who are in law enforcement and CPS), sat in one chair with a pen and paper, and the Abbot Nathan Zodrow sat in the other chair.
I told them what had happened, and that I didn't know if it was appropriate or not but I had a bad feeling about it. I was asked if he touched me sexually and I said no, truthfully. Then, as I was telling them about Br. Ansgar's attempt to take me down the road on a walk, I stopped mid-sentence and said, "...Is there a little chapel out there (I pointed) in the woods?" The Abbot and Human Resource person had been listening on auto-pilot until I said this and then they both looked up. Lynne looked at the Abbot nervously. I then noticed the Abbot had a large bead of sweat at the top of his brow, which he brushed away. He was nervous too, and why? unless something was wrong? They wouldn't speak and so I broke the silence, adding, "...I just wondered because Br. Ansgar said he was taking me to see this "exquisite little chapel in the woods" but we never got there." No one would answer me and they changed the topic.
At some point, I began to cry and the Abbot cut me off harshly, saying, "You are not my concern. My concern is for my monks, and I need to know what is happening with them."
He said some other things, basically, that I was not his responsibility in any way, and that he only allowed the meeting so he could find out how his monks were doing and how he could meet THEIR needs.
I had thought an Abbot, or supervisors, should care about what is happening further than that. If their clergy is acting inappropriately, didn't they have a responsibility not just to their monks, but the people that their monks are involved with? I was being directly counseled by two of his clergy, and besides that, I found out later, I COULD legally be considered his "responsibility" because I had been a "volunteer" for his library, and according to most legal cases, a volunteer is accorded the same rights as an employee. They even had my name and address on their volunteer sheet and it was common knowledge I had been helping out there for almost a year.
But I didn't know about this at first, about the rights of a "volunteer" and other legal definitions. All I knew, is that I had just told an Abbot about a matter, and asked for their help or advice, hoping this didn't happen to others, and that with intervention, perhaps it wouldn't happen again.
After this meeting with the Abbot, things went from bad to worse.
As they went from bad to worse, in the middle of the harassment and provocation that happened next, I felt keenly that an intuitive force, or that the Holy Spirit, or God Himself, was directing me in my discoveries. I never should have found out what was out in the woods where the "chapel" was supposed to be. I never should have found out a lot of things, but I did. And despite how horrible and cruel some were, I knew God was on my side, in that I didn't lie about anyone, make false accusations, exaggerate or distort, or try to do anything harmful to another person.
After years of harassment by the Abbey attorneys, I could acknowlege I had some mild PTSD. But otherwise, I was never "unstable" or ill. It took years besides, for them to break me down enough, and even then, it wasn't enough for them. They had to take it further.
Anti-Catholic?
I thought I'd write this post and get it out of the way.
Yes and no. I am anti-Catholic church, but not anti-Catholic church member in general. And I have only been anti-Catholic church since maybe 1 or 2 years after meeting with the Abbot of the monastery, trying to get assistance from multiple members of the Catholic faith, and then finding myself defamed to no end by, at least for years at first, only Catholics.
After awhile, you start to realize there is a pattern. It took me a long time to finally say, okay, I just have to avoid this group in general, because I don't know when I'm running into a nice person who has nothing against me and just-so-happens to be Catholic too, and when I'm running into someone that knows the Abbey lawyers, or other members of the church who have been on a mission to ruin me. So, after so many facts and events, it finally made sense to protect myself and avoid the group in general.
It's interesting to me that the Catholic church has their own elaborate "anti-defamation" organization, but does NOTHING about it's clergy who defame others, to protect their church. I find this to be hypocritical.
I wish I could be like Hitchens, and argue I'm not just against the RCC, but against all religion in general, but I'm not so equal-opportunity, because the only group which has deliberately gone out of their way to cause me harm, has been associated with the RCC. So my "prejudice" is based on real and situational personal experience.
I'm not automatically against anyone because they are RCC, but I've already learned the hard way that I have to be careful and that usually, even if I am trying to be objective, someone gets to the RCC member and tries to twist the facts about me, or shows them the WW article, and I get screwed, no matter what.
Which is a big reason I'm finally motivated to write the facts of what has actually happened, so I'm not written off as "mentally ill" or "a hateful bigot", because I am neither.
UPDATE: I should add, even with my opinions of the RCC now, I would not ever lie about what happened to me for some kind of political agenda. I don't belong to any particular church, or go to church any longer, and have no affiliation. I have also never lied or exaggerated what happened. If I'd wanted to lie, I could have claimed all kinds of sexual abuse or contact occured, and it didn't. I've told the truth faithfully, and accurately, even when others have lied about me. Being able to hold onto my integrity, knowing God sees all, is the main thing that has saved me from falling apart. I am most proud of myself for not stooping to the same levels others have stooped to, to slam me and cover for themselves, when they know I did nothing wrong.
Yes and no. I am anti-Catholic church, but not anti-Catholic church member in general. And I have only been anti-Catholic church since maybe 1 or 2 years after meeting with the Abbot of the monastery, trying to get assistance from multiple members of the Catholic faith, and then finding myself defamed to no end by, at least for years at first, only Catholics.
After awhile, you start to realize there is a pattern. It took me a long time to finally say, okay, I just have to avoid this group in general, because I don't know when I'm running into a nice person who has nothing against me and just-so-happens to be Catholic too, and when I'm running into someone that knows the Abbey lawyers, or other members of the church who have been on a mission to ruin me. So, after so many facts and events, it finally made sense to protect myself and avoid the group in general.
It's interesting to me that the Catholic church has their own elaborate "anti-defamation" organization, but does NOTHING about it's clergy who defame others, to protect their church. I find this to be hypocritical.
I wish I could be like Hitchens, and argue I'm not just against the RCC, but against all religion in general, but I'm not so equal-opportunity, because the only group which has deliberately gone out of their way to cause me harm, has been associated with the RCC. So my "prejudice" is based on real and situational personal experience.
I'm not automatically against anyone because they are RCC, but I've already learned the hard way that I have to be careful and that usually, even if I am trying to be objective, someone gets to the RCC member and tries to twist the facts about me, or shows them the WW article, and I get screwed, no matter what.
Which is a big reason I'm finally motivated to write the facts of what has actually happened, so I'm not written off as "mentally ill" or "a hateful bigot", because I am neither.
UPDATE: I should add, even with my opinions of the RCC now, I would not ever lie about what happened to me for some kind of political agenda. I don't belong to any particular church, or go to church any longer, and have no affiliation. I have also never lied or exaggerated what happened. If I'd wanted to lie, I could have claimed all kinds of sexual abuse or contact occured, and it didn't. I've told the truth faithfully, and accurately, even when others have lied about me. Being able to hold onto my integrity, knowing God sees all, is the main thing that has saved me from falling apart. I am most proud of myself for not stooping to the same levels others have stooped to, to slam me and cover for themselves, when they know I did nothing wrong.
TTSOML #37: The Set-Up
I was still doing research at the Abbey library while the situation with Br. Ansgar was going on. I was still interested in possible conversion, or at least finding out what else hinged on the dogmas and if I could find other evidence, from their own church fathers, to help revise their position, should they ever want to.
I was looking up the parallel of Christ on the cross with the serpent on the pole, and Br. Ansgar said irritablely that I was on my way to becoming "Jewish". I guess because I wondered if Christ had been born with the "original sin" but had never committed "venial sin" and therefore died "sinless" on the cross, reversing the effects of the original sin curse. So Br. Ansgar took this to mean I was guessing Jesus to be only a man and not God as well, which I never claimed. I was simply doing some research. On another occasion, Br. Ansgar lambasted Edward Said and the Muslims. Ansgar was also incensed that Pope John Paul II had ever apologized for what rifts and crusades there were against the Jews, because Ansgar believed them to be "holy wars" and authorized by God for the benefit of the church, and I guess, eternal and worldwide salvation. I mention these things to explain Br. Ansgar's conservative nature. Fr. Joachim declared himself to be more moderate, and said Ansgar could never be a priest because he only saw things black and white and couldn't make accomodations for what was grey, which, Fr. Joachim said, is necessary in dealing with a variety of people as a priest. I took whatever insults or warnings Br. Ansgar hurled my way (which was also when he was romantically pursuing me) to be the effect of his moody nature, and it didn't bother me personally but shocked me. Br. Ansgar assumed a lot about Protestants, and everyone else. It was as if he had only read medieval literature about the ongoing persecutions and crusades, and evils of Protestantism, and was stuck in a former time. He believed The Enlightenment and principles from this time, to have led to a considerable demise in the church's authority. Br. Ansgar could also be considerate of certain topics and wasn't without any measure of tolerance, but patience was certaintly not one of his virtues. I suppose I was lucky to be conservative myself at the time, and therefore somewhat understanding; halfway intelligent and well-versed in scripture with good memorization of Biblical verse; inquisitive and interested in Catholicism and philosophy (knowledge); and, perhaps most importantly as it turned out, easy on the eye. I was also submissive, trusting, naive, and impressionable. No one, including myself, could have foretold what my reaction was going to be, to being lied to and betrayed by those I loved and I had thought, loved me and even cared about my soul.
It was probably quite a shock that I decided to stand up for myself, for once. That I would not just "be quiet" and do as I was told, which was not to tell the Abbot. I was going to meet with the Abbot, I thought.
I was still talking to Josef and volunteering at the library, but all of a sudden, the librarian told me, when I came to check out books one week, that they now required a social security number for checking books out. I stopped and paused. No one had asked for my SS# before. I had a bad feeling about it, but she insisted I could not leave with any books without giving this first. So I did. I waited around to see if she was requiring a SS# from anyone else. She was not. I asked somenoe else, later, who was not a monk, if they had had to give their social security number out. They had not.
After Br. Ansgar started writing letters which pretty much covered his earlier romantic interest and propositions to me, I became more assertive in my questioning of their dogmas. I was slowly losing a bit of the automatic respect and trust I had bestowed upon them, and this allowed me to more freely ask and challenge, without worrying they wouldn't like me as much or that I would fall out of favor with them. They were all I had, then, after abandoning my own church and friends. So I didn't want to lose them, but I felt freer to question some things.
I decided to call other priests in other monasteries, annonymously, to ask their advice about telling the Abbot about Br. Ansgar and trying to get some answers about what was appropriate. I even called the Mt. Angel nunnery, which was down the road from the monastery. I was told to go ahead and meet with them, EXCEPT when I added, "Well, I'm a little nervous because this clergy has a higher and influential position and I think it could cause scandal". The minute I mentioned anything about the clergy involved being in a higher or influential position, on its own, OR combined with "potential for scandal", I was advised by all but ONE to "forget about it" and NOT to go to anyone or say anything. I was routinely told to forgive the person, pray for them, and forget about it, for the sake of the church.
This caused concern in my mind that it was okay for any old monk to be reported, but not one with more influence, or not one where scandal could arise. I wondered who or what they were trying to protect. Why should one monk get away with something, if it was wrong, and not the other?
I began to wonder how often this happened. Then I told a couple friends about it, who I hadn't talked to for a long time and they mentioned what was going on with the child sex abuse scandals. WHAT?!!!! I said. I hadn't heard of it at all, and it was already old news, but still in the news. So I either went online to read about it, or saw something on the news at a family members house, and THIS was what ultimately convinced me to go to the Abbot.
I was not a child, and I had not been abused sexually as a child. But what I was hearing from members and former members, about the cover up and inability to admit wrongdoing, was exactly the same. If it was happening to KIDS, it was probably happening to men and women who had counseling relationships with priests and clergy as well, and this was covered up, most likely.
I called the Abbot and made an appointment to meet him.
I didn't know that the Abbot had already contacted his local law enforcement and asked them to put me under surveillance, telling them I was mentally "unstable" and "potentially dangerous". They did this after I told Fr. Joachim about speaking with a lawyer who said he thought I'd been exploited. I had done nothing wrong, and was only at the Abbey once a week to return books and pick up more books, or to talk to Josef. The officer who told me about this surveillance said no one had ever seen me do anything wrong. "Because I haven't!" I said, incredulously.
I found out about the surveillance and smearing of my "good name", from a police officer, after I met with the Abbot, in the spring or summer of 2001 (I'll have to look up the date). I met this officer when I was walking to a cafe in downtown Mt. Angel and he approached me to give me his phone number and ask me for a date. His name was Scott, aka, "Scotty".
I was looking up the parallel of Christ on the cross with the serpent on the pole, and Br. Ansgar said irritablely that I was on my way to becoming "Jewish". I guess because I wondered if Christ had been born with the "original sin" but had never committed "venial sin" and therefore died "sinless" on the cross, reversing the effects of the original sin curse. So Br. Ansgar took this to mean I was guessing Jesus to be only a man and not God as well, which I never claimed. I was simply doing some research. On another occasion, Br. Ansgar lambasted Edward Said and the Muslims. Ansgar was also incensed that Pope John Paul II had ever apologized for what rifts and crusades there were against the Jews, because Ansgar believed them to be "holy wars" and authorized by God for the benefit of the church, and I guess, eternal and worldwide salvation. I mention these things to explain Br. Ansgar's conservative nature. Fr. Joachim declared himself to be more moderate, and said Ansgar could never be a priest because he only saw things black and white and couldn't make accomodations for what was grey, which, Fr. Joachim said, is necessary in dealing with a variety of people as a priest. I took whatever insults or warnings Br. Ansgar hurled my way (which was also when he was romantically pursuing me) to be the effect of his moody nature, and it didn't bother me personally but shocked me. Br. Ansgar assumed a lot about Protestants, and everyone else. It was as if he had only read medieval literature about the ongoing persecutions and crusades, and evils of Protestantism, and was stuck in a former time. He believed The Enlightenment and principles from this time, to have led to a considerable demise in the church's authority. Br. Ansgar could also be considerate of certain topics and wasn't without any measure of tolerance, but patience was certaintly not one of his virtues. I suppose I was lucky to be conservative myself at the time, and therefore somewhat understanding; halfway intelligent and well-versed in scripture with good memorization of Biblical verse; inquisitive and interested in Catholicism and philosophy (knowledge); and, perhaps most importantly as it turned out, easy on the eye. I was also submissive, trusting, naive, and impressionable. No one, including myself, could have foretold what my reaction was going to be, to being lied to and betrayed by those I loved and I had thought, loved me and even cared about my soul.
It was probably quite a shock that I decided to stand up for myself, for once. That I would not just "be quiet" and do as I was told, which was not to tell the Abbot. I was going to meet with the Abbot, I thought.
I was still talking to Josef and volunteering at the library, but all of a sudden, the librarian told me, when I came to check out books one week, that they now required a social security number for checking books out. I stopped and paused. No one had asked for my SS# before. I had a bad feeling about it, but she insisted I could not leave with any books without giving this first. So I did. I waited around to see if she was requiring a SS# from anyone else. She was not. I asked somenoe else, later, who was not a monk, if they had had to give their social security number out. They had not.
After Br. Ansgar started writing letters which pretty much covered his earlier romantic interest and propositions to me, I became more assertive in my questioning of their dogmas. I was slowly losing a bit of the automatic respect and trust I had bestowed upon them, and this allowed me to more freely ask and challenge, without worrying they wouldn't like me as much or that I would fall out of favor with them. They were all I had, then, after abandoning my own church and friends. So I didn't want to lose them, but I felt freer to question some things.
I decided to call other priests in other monasteries, annonymously, to ask their advice about telling the Abbot about Br. Ansgar and trying to get some answers about what was appropriate. I even called the Mt. Angel nunnery, which was down the road from the monastery. I was told to go ahead and meet with them, EXCEPT when I added, "Well, I'm a little nervous because this clergy has a higher and influential position and I think it could cause scandal". The minute I mentioned anything about the clergy involved being in a higher or influential position, on its own, OR combined with "potential for scandal", I was advised by all but ONE to "forget about it" and NOT to go to anyone or say anything. I was routinely told to forgive the person, pray for them, and forget about it, for the sake of the church.
This caused concern in my mind that it was okay for any old monk to be reported, but not one with more influence, or not one where scandal could arise. I wondered who or what they were trying to protect. Why should one monk get away with something, if it was wrong, and not the other?
I began to wonder how often this happened. Then I told a couple friends about it, who I hadn't talked to for a long time and they mentioned what was going on with the child sex abuse scandals. WHAT?!!!! I said. I hadn't heard of it at all, and it was already old news, but still in the news. So I either went online to read about it, or saw something on the news at a family members house, and THIS was what ultimately convinced me to go to the Abbot.
I was not a child, and I had not been abused sexually as a child. But what I was hearing from members and former members, about the cover up and inability to admit wrongdoing, was exactly the same. If it was happening to KIDS, it was probably happening to men and women who had counseling relationships with priests and clergy as well, and this was covered up, most likely.
I called the Abbot and made an appointment to meet him.
I didn't know that the Abbot had already contacted his local law enforcement and asked them to put me under surveillance, telling them I was mentally "unstable" and "potentially dangerous". They did this after I told Fr. Joachim about speaking with a lawyer who said he thought I'd been exploited. I had done nothing wrong, and was only at the Abbey once a week to return books and pick up more books, or to talk to Josef. The officer who told me about this surveillance said no one had ever seen me do anything wrong. "Because I haven't!" I said, incredulously.
I found out about the surveillance and smearing of my "good name", from a police officer, after I met with the Abbot, in the spring or summer of 2001 (I'll have to look up the date). I met this officer when I was walking to a cafe in downtown Mt. Angel and he approached me to give me his phone number and ask me for a date. His name was Scott, aka, "Scotty".
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