Sunday, September 4, 2011


I looked up the year 1982 because I think that's the year I ran away. I was in 2nd grade so I was counting back and I think that's 1982.

But I don't remember what day I ran away. I ran away from school to go home. I made it pretty far, for a kid, and a girl even, if I do say so myself.

I believe I must have been 8 years old but I'm not sure. I know the weather was nice that day, the sun was shining.

I wondered because I was thinking yesterday, I wonder what was going on in the world around that time. I've never thought of it before.

I can't remember if it was in the Fall, in the sun, or in the Spring. I only remember it wasn't raining and the sun was shining. I think I got hot even.

I had expected to be greeted by an airplane somewhere. Or get some kind of special privileges. No, I got into big trouble. But when I think about it, I did pretty good for a kid.

I remember even then, in 2nd grade, it was all about the boys and men. Boys were encouraged to be one way, and girls another way, and I didn't like it. And I was then reading a novel about a girl who runs away and is rewarded for it, so I thought I'd see if it worked. After that, all novels from the same author were confiscated and I wasn't allowed to check them out anymore because they "give you ideas."

I have never been impulsive in my life. Even then, I had a plan and made arrangements first. I don't know how far in advance they were because I only remember the day I did it. But I remember reading about it first and how the idea grew in my mind.

YES. I was also going to run away.

I wasn't going to a different house, I was just leaving school to go back to my house. I didn't like my teacher very much. She was not the encouraging kind. She put me down in every way imaginable and all I can remember is how she put on her red lipstick in the middle of class all the time. I know she put me down when I had a rally on the school playground, with the entire playground divided up like West Side Story and I was the spokesperson for them all. My whole thing was that Jesus Died and the only true religion was christianity. It wasn't that big of a deal, but somehow I managed to turn ball-time into an elementary school philosphical debate on religion.

So "She", the teacher, was supposed to be the judge of truth. And she was wishy-washy. I thought, I cannot believe an adult would fail me on this. How could she make such a hble, politically correct statement when she went to church herself and even knew it wasn't true. That's what I thought, and I think for any child it's okay. She said, "All religions are beautiful."

Yeah, I had thought, even satanism. All things were not always equal.

I remember it was this, that I didn't respect her for her wishy-washy ideas and attempt to please "the men in suits" and I also didn't like the fact she was boring. She wasn't a teacher that encouraged creativity like my next teacher did, Mrs. Rosenow.

And then, I remember I had something about a boy not liking me but it wasn't this as much as how girls were put down to favor boys and then yes, this particular boy was mean. I was just as smart and funny as this boy but the girls were not encouraged to act out or be silly or funny or dramatic at all. Boys were. There was more to it, probably with the book in mind, but I just decided I'd had enough of school one day and I left.

I didn't think it was a big deal. I gave special instructions to my friend and classmate and told her to guard the secret and she was the only one who knew. I didn't tell anyone else. Then I gave her some things I said she could keep.

I left and walked in broad daylight, off the school property. Why act sneaky? So I walked out like I owned it. And then I remember passing the gates and feeling sweaty but I didn't show I was nervous and I walked right out on the sidewalk where anyone could see. A teacher stopped me and said why wasn't I in school and I said my mom had given them a note for me to go home. She didn't just ask and drive on. She asked me a few questions and I looked her in the eye and I lied like a champ. I think now, it was a really really good act. I didn't flinch, look down, nothing.
And then when she was out of sight, I knew she was going to call someone.

So, knowing she was going to call someone, I made off down the hill for the brush and ran through the brush and stayed off the main road. However, it was all neighborhoods and I had to eventually come up so I did and when I did there was a cop there. Or my mom or something. I remember seeing a cop car but I mainly remember my mom and that she drove me to town to talk to my Dad.

So I guess I wondered if anyone else was running away in 1982 but I didn't find anything. I kind of wondered when this Edward Howard guy ran off.

But anyway, I went down a list of dates on wiki for 1992 and a few things made me laugh but nothing stands out.

I am prepared to run again actually. With my passport in hand. I mean, if my son is not returned to me, why would I stay here? I see no reason to not return him, esp. when the government had hid all of this evidence. But I am not joking about how I'm not going to put up with living in a country that has used me and refuses to give me a flag or honor what my birth certificate is supposed to mean. And I now know that my Grandpa Garrett knew about all of this before it happened. I just have a very good feeling that the U.S. owes him some money for some reason.

I don't know what it is exactly, but there is money or something that is owed to all his kids and grandkids. That's what I think. I know for a fact that someone took my check that I mailed to the U.S. IRS years ago and they never credited me for that. But that's not what I'm talking about. There is some other kind of major money that my Grandpa Garrett knew about, that the U.S. knows about, and that maybe some other group has known about and wanted to keep a secret, and I think it's time that I start seeing more DOUGH and less torture.

So what did my Grandpa Garrett do anyway?

Was he like JFK's daddy, helping the government out with massive amounts of cash and support so they could make it on their own?

Or did he just happen to singlehandedly win the entire WWII for this country?

Do you know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that if he was good enough to predict down the road the U.S. wouldn't give his kids a flag, and had the forethought to be sending me all the Native Traditional American birthday cards, he had bigger brains than your entire modern Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine, slipshod buckshot gypsies do.

He died and then you came in for the kill.

On all his kids, didn't you. Kids, grandkids, and now that one of the best is out of the way, who is going to tell?

Well I am.


And by the way, his wives are alive. And he didn't marry any stupid women like your punks have. And neither have his kids.

Where's the money for our Great Uncle Howard.


My grandfather WON your wars. And he did it without all of your crappy torture techniques.

You guys were so impressed that instead of thanking him, you rounded up all his kids and family and indentified them to be used in torture experiments for the U.S.


You had your sights on my son before he was even born.


And then what did you do? play matchmaker with the kids from the other research projects?

If one of us tried to leave or do something different, you found ways to entrap us and keep us here instead didn't you? How many generations of our families have you used and held hostage and no, you can't give us a flag because you don't have them anymore. You're out.

I suggest you return my son to me.

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