Friday, February 8, 2013

My First Memory: Age 2 (updated)

My first memory was at age 2.  I thought it was later, when I was 4 years old, because I remember the entire moment of "asking Jesus into my heart".  I remember every detail.  But the first memory that I can recall, is, I guess, from age 2.

I remember something about my baby bottle and what I liked and didn't like and asked my Mom how old I was when I quit using a bottle and she said probably age 2.  So my memory is from when I was 2 years old.  That's my earliest memory.

I also remember, in high school, Robin Bechtold trying to pressure me to agree that I liked raspberry jam.  He wanted me to say it was my favorite and I kept telling him no, it was strawberry.  Why would he be that interested in pushing me to say I liked something I didn't like?  It's just one more thing about someone or some group and knowledge about me he was coming into, and then was trying to use shape me around it in a particular way.   I never liked raspberry jam best--it was too seedy.  I always like strawberry jam and when I was a kid I liked grape jelly too.  Later, it was always strawberry, sometimes apricot.  I owned my own house and got strawberry jam or preserves with large pieces of strawberry in it.  I always got strawberry waffles or strawberry pancakes with whipped cream.  Occasionally blueberry, but mostly strawberry.

I am not the raspberry girl.  If there is a document about someone whose favorite jam was that, it wasn't me.  I like raspberries, whole, on vanilla ice cream and that's it.  I think it's a good idea to have organic raspberries to grow, but it's not because it's my favorite.  It was something I almost never bought.  I bought strawberry jam, all the time, and sometimes apricot, orange marmalade, or lemon curd.  That was it.  A few times, once or twice, I bought raspberry, but like I said, too seedy.

Katie had her raspberry colored hair, or whatever, I think.  That's fine.  I don't envy it.  I am not the raspberry afficionado.  I am the one that always got strawberries.

Also, I painted strands of my hair hot pink with a washable hair maskara and it was in the 80s.  Before that, I picked out a large purple hair stuffed animal that was white and had fluffy purple hair that stood up on end if you shook it.  I chose it for all the kids at one of the toy buys for a company party when I was a kid.

I am not whoever this other person that someone wants to confuse me with. My personal history has and is most likely being tampered with still, as part of covering for something that was in files a long time ago, that made one family look good and possibly incriminated another family. 

As for Robin, I believe he is connected to the guy who had streaks of raspberry colored hair that worked with me at a restaurant in TN.  Who said "delicious" all the time, like the woman from L.A. who decided to become best friends with a cousin of mine, Gardenia, and who came out to my parents house to rub in the fact Kate Middleton was pregnant when she was.

I'm told my parents got "robbed" on that occasion and I'm not surprised.  I was worried the entire time that that woman was stealing from them.

And robbed?  Oh I do believe she is also probably connected to Robin as well.

So raspberry hair man, who colored his hair like Katies and decided to work next to me, was one of those "delicious" commentators.  The gay one (supposedly) who did decorating at hotels and who was Italian.

I am not who you think I am.

Whoever some of you think I am, I am not, and some kind of internal CIA documentation about me, which might also include FBI or other secret (some tell Robin?) files, were being tampered with and my family was being manipulated and pushed into a corner.

Robin's favorite jam was raspberry.  Oh Katie, let's dye our hair over it.  Did she dye her hair first? or did Robin make this huge deal over it with me first?  It might be interesting to know but I'm not interested enough to look her up in an internet search over it.  I just know that some very serious crimes have been committed and the cover is professional.

It was not my favorite at all.  My Dad got both raspberry and strawberry, but I grew up with grape jelly, strawberry, and honey.  My Mom got orange marmalade for herself but not a large batch.  I got it for myself occasionally later.  But it was mainly strawberry and apricot jam for me, or honey and butter.

When my mother told me about Gannon dying and how she thought it was too much vitamin A, she was standing in the kitchen with a hand on the countertop facing the livingroom.  I stood facing the diningroom.  We were next to an automatic can opener that was affixed under the cabinets above, and the blender.  The automatic can opener was olive green.  You lifted the can up, fit it under the blade and pressed down, and the machine gripped it and opened it as it turned, rotating and held it until you released it, and took it down, and the metal  lid was stuck above, and held in place with a large magnet.  So you then slid the newly cut lid out to the side away from the magnet that held it there.
The blender was directly beneath this, against the wall.

This was about the middle of the counterspace.  There was a long rectangular countertop along the wall with the stove sort of in the center.  Then it turned right, if you faced the dining room, and was a shorter countertop.  The can opener and blender were to the left of the stove and oven if you faced the oven.  In the cupboard directly above the can opener, was the bottle of Karo syrup.  I remember, because since we rarely had sweets at our house, I sometimes took out the bottle and had a swig.  Around that general cabinet was the Italian red wine vinegar and some other things.  There was nothing else sweet in the house except for raisins or fruit, so I drank from the Karo bottle, or had one swig, now and then.

One day, later, I was cleaning, and I moved the blender to the right side, because I thought it was out of the way and it bothered my Mom.  I noticed something really bothered her about it.

Possibly because the original placement was significant in some way.

This was where my mother told me what she thought the possible cause of death was.  "Too much beta carotene" that gets converted into vitamin A and then builds up and can't be excreted."  She said this, in that very spot, wearing pants that day.

The black mammy was to the right next to our kitchen sink but she moved it different places.  It usually held spaghetti, long-strand, and she really loved it.  She had sort of an orange print dress I think.  I can't remember.  I guess Shirley Sandberg gave it to her as a gift.  Actually, I think someone else gave my mother the mammy maybe and Shirley or someone gave her a "kitchen witch" which my mother didn't like.  And the mammy was gone--stolen.

We wore aprons when we cooked.  All of our aprons somehow disappeared.  Not all the time, or every time, but often.  I always put on an apron if I was going to bake something.  Well, often.  They were full length ones mainly and a few skirt only ones.  Later when I owned my own house in 1997 I bought a bunch of aprons again.

Once there was a large bowl of seedless green grapes, the oblong shaped ones (California seedless I think) and I was told not to keep eating them or I'd get sick.  I had a few more and then threw up all over the floor.  It happened when I was about age 9-11.

Once the Mormon girl Tiffany babysat us and usually it was Kara, her younger sister.  I didn't want to go to bed when she said and said she wasn't my Mom and she went home crying. So the next time Kara babysat we were forced to go to bed super early and then my parents quit having them babysit us.  Also, after I read a book about property rights (unknowingly) at the Springers house, called "Cranberry Christmas", my Dad was forced to mow a space of the field that Alan Springer claimed he owned.  It turned out, we owned the property or something, and Alan refused to move his boundary back, so either he forced my Dad to mow this strip of field out of retaliation, or my Dad just did it.  It was a long strip of land, and about 6 or more feet across.

I remember one day my Dad was out there, out there on that Mormon FBI psychologist's field, MOWING the field with his rideable lawnmower, and I had picked out a new dress for myself, on my own, while shopping with my mother.  It was navy blue or sort of bright primary blue in places, with black plaid stripes through it and black buttons all the way down,and a belt and tiny narrow yellow and red pin stripes through it.  It had sort of a knit black band mandarin collar and long sleeves which I pushed up to 3/4 sleeves.  The black bands were at the ends of the sleeves too.  The skirt went to my calves and flowed out.  I wore black shoes.   I had my hair, which was chin length, feathered back (the style then) and it was hairsprayed with some maximum hold AquaNet (the aerosol hairspray I used). 

I remember my Dad looking miserable out there, and then brightening up when he saw me and looking really happy to see what dress I had picked out.  He said I looked very nice.  He was out there mowing Alan Frickin' Springer's field, and Alan never removed his fence.

But they loved to use us.  Oh yes.  It was very exciting to live next to my family.  Afterall, they were forced to leave their doors unlocked at all times.  Alan Springer had a key to our house.  I don't know who else did, but I know for a fact that Alan Springer kept a key, for the rare times I guess they did lock the door.  But why tell me? when they never locked the door?  I was told, he has  a key to our house.  When they moved, they moved to Salt Lake City, Utah.
I went to bed awhile ago and now it's 1:11 a.m.  At about 1 a.m. I was tortured to my heart, and this is being done lately by NASA and military.  They are targeting my heart specifically, and caused it to seize up and stop my breathing for a moment and then my heart gave 7 extremely loud thuds as something caused it to move or jump around inside of my chest.

I think the U.S. is attempting to create a heart attack.

I don't have tingling arms or a weird feeling first, it's direct assault to my heart and they have been doing this for about a month now, or the last 2 weeks.  Just now was the longest and strongest time they did this, and they did it deliberately, to create 7 huge thuds inside of my chest.  This was done to me when I started to think about this Jewish group of men driving by today and also earlier today when I ate horseradish, it was done to my heart.

But this time I wasn't doing anything except lying down and I recognized it as an assault.  It is not  a health problem.  It is assault.  the movement was done the exact same way, with each thud, spaced apart with the same time.  They did it with the same strength and time inbetween, in immediate succession, one jump from the next.

The U.S. has a group that has been trying to kill me for a very, very, long time.  I don't think it is only the U.S. either but a joint group of some kind.

And if you want to see real evidence of torture, you have to see my Dad.

For several days in a row, or nights, I heard screaming too. I thought, maybe but then thought it was the neighbors because I didn't think it was possible anyone would be inside my parent's house at night.  Something definitely happened to them during the day.

I thought I would add, the mammy was solid black from head to toe.  Not sort of black, but solid black.

And the can opener wasn't olive green, I guess, as much as that 70s and early 80s avocado green color.  It was high tech when we got it.

The blender was hamilton-beach and had 9-12 (I think) different buttons to press in a row, that were short rectangular shaped buttons.  I made milkshakes or drinks with milk, frozen strawberries or other berries, and sugar and egg and vanilla.  Then when I was told not to use up all the berries, I made banana or plain ones, with just milk, vanilla, egg, and nutmeg.

My mother used to regularly steam her face over a pot of boiling water and then apply a face mask.  At least once a week, ever since I was little and could remember.  She put a towel over her head and let the steam rise up and said this was what Granny did too.  Usually some kind of green face mask.  Sometimes a peel-away kind but usually opaque green.  My Mom used face masks for her skin until we moved to Sherwood, Oregon and then only for a year or so and not again.

My mother had a hot pink bikini with string ties, a solid color hot pink string bikini and she looked really good in it.  Over time and with the sun it faded to a salmon color and then with the wash and everything, almost pale pink.  But it was hot pink, like flamingo hot pink.  She loved the sun.


I am seriously concerned about the U.S. destroying our family history and my records and documents.  No government does this unless they're planning to kill you.

Removing history makes it harder, after a death, to trace motive and find out which individuals and groups had communications with me, or possibly motive to kill.  It also removes my side of the story, from family conversations that could become public or exposed.  Witness protection doesn't remove your personal history.  They might fake a death for you but they don't systematically begin to purge all your records and history from every form of communication, medical, and legal process you ever had.

The only reason to do this is if the government is using family members that are kids and they want to erase the history of older family members and even parents, to enable the U.S. to get away with torturing them and using them for government programs.  Of course, make the mother sound nuts and then destroy and purge all of her records and history that counters that.  If they killed me now, all they would have to do is take my blog off line and all that would be left are falsified psych ward, police and jail reports, and defamatory comments from hospitals and FBI internal records.  Oh, and a defamatory article from the Willamette Week.

This is the only reason my correspondence is being shut down.  It's not over "ownership" questions.  My bank account history was purged, my email records and correspondence are being purged and blocked, medical records have been unlawfully altered (while I'm still alive), and my personal photos and diaries and things have all been stolen.

So what is left?


The U.S. government is not doing this to protect themselves from a lawsuit.  They are purging my records and testimony and statements, along with the true history, so these things cannot be discovered and known if I die.  They might allow other family members to live, who are blackmailed or who work for them, but if they kill me, they want to do it in a way that is seamless.  Then they can mislead my son Oliver and tell him whatever they want.

And by the way, I just wrote approximately this same thing, that I just posted in the paragraph above, at least 12 times, and it was deleted or I was disconnected.  I wrote it out entirely, in so many words, at least 5 times and pressed publish and my connection was disconnected and the text erased.

Basically, the U.S. government is using agencies already to premeditate making a cleaner kill.  They clean it up now, gradually, a little bit here and then a little bit there, and try to make it look it look like natural misfortune or problems, and then what?  then there is nothing left except my Blog, which they will tamper with and keep only select portions.

This is why they are blocking me from my email.  Once email is sent, it's not easy to tamper with the original message and 2 copies go out.  With a blog, they can do whatever they want and claim it's factual or that the entire thing isn't to be trusted because of tampering.  Whatever I wrote in my own hand, in lettes and diaries, they stole.  The U.S. govenrment stole those materials, no one else, and they used a few Canadians with a motive.  Whatever I've emailed they've been trying to purge and get rid of, because it is a document that leaves at least 2 copies and can't be easily altered. It also includes date stamps and time stamps that lead to implicating people and lend to my own credibility and it shows I wasn't nuts.   The U.S. purged my bank account history for the same reason, to remove date stamps of when I was in specific locations and that I actually had money.

So the U.S. thinks a few video clips, with evidence of nothing, and a blog they can take parts out of to make me sound crazy, will work really well for their idea of how to "project my image" and history to my son and future generations and people, if I happen to "die".

All they have to do, is make a little "collage" of all the false things they have written about me, and the psych ward and hospital and jail notes, and defamatory article, and insert a few video clips that have no documentation to back myself up with, and make me sound like I'm just rambling, and then select parts of my blog when they tortured me the most to the point that I was in hysterics and extreme suffering.

This is what the U.S. is doing.

They are premeditating my murder.

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