Monday, June 26, 2017

schizoaffective disorder has many faces - further adventures in a crazy person's bible

Yesterday, I told a mainland friend that today, 6/26, would be heavy duty, given 6 in my spirit code represents Melchizedek, 26 is the sacred number for God, and 2 represents Jesus.

This morning, I told the same friend that Jesus had said something like this in the Gospels:

If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters--yes, even their own life--such a person cannot be my disciple.

I told my friend Jesus did not use "hate" in the sense of hating those people, but in the sense of hating the influence those people had over people he was trying to reach. 

I told my friend, that's how I try to live my life. A parallel is, God's will, not mine, be done. It's a steep road, easy to fall off. I have fallen off many time. Sometimes severely, and then it took the angels a while to get me straightened out.

I told my friend, in one of my dreams last night, I was talking to people in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and I was shitting and shitting and shitting rivers of liquid shit. 

I told my friend all of my dreams last night pointed me toward the recent Facebook conversations with my oldest daughter, which began when I posted a happy birthday message to her in her Facebook account on June 19. That led to a good bit of further discussion, mostly written by me, which I posted at this website.

Then on 6/21, the heart of the summer solstice, sometimes called "the coming of the dark," Young Prophet told me of his being told by the angels Gabriel and Kamael that my life was at risk and I needed to stop blogging and go into hiding. So I set the Facebook with my daughter aside, until I was more clear.

My mainland friend said she dreamt last night that I had a white bucket full of what looked like pink psychedelic lemonade, into which I tossed my wallet, and she asked me in the dream why I had tossed in my wallet? I said perhaps to put my money where my mouth is? For sure, what I have for today's post is plenty psychedelic.

Here's what I had set aside:

After a night of roiling dissatisfying dreams, I dreamed of reaching in a refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of milk and turning it up and drinking it and it was strawberry flavored. I knew that had to be about my older daughter, and probably her sister.

Continuing the Facebook conversation with my older daughter reported the past two days at this website: 

no place for hate, where is that? cuckoo's nests come in various guises

My part in blue background:

WED 8:19PM

Dad - Jordan arrived a week early - as did Avery. No c-sections were scheduled (thankfully). I remember visiting you Birmingham when they were little - I think in the late nineties. As I recall, you had been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. You were on medication and were pretty miserable without your dreams. You said that you felt like you had been disconnected from God. It was then that I realized that, for you, medication was a burden. I understood that for you to be free, you needed to be able to live on your own terms. And I knew that this meant that it would be very difficult for John, the girls, and I to have a relationship with you. I made peace with that a long time ago because I love you and want you to live life on your own terms. I ached for you to feel free. I will continue to respect your choice to avoid psychiatric care - but I am concerned about the physical and emotional toll this choice is taking on your body and soul. Please know that you are frequently in my thoughts and prayers, Dad.

Hi, Nelle - Perhaps I should have written induce labor instead of C-section. You told me that was in the works, if Jordan did not come. I was really concerned. Then, what sure looked like a miracle to me came, when I had that dream and then John called me to say you had delivered naturally and I told him about the dream. 

Yes, schizoaffective is what was diagnosed. I was told that is a diagnosis they use when they don't know what else to assign. The pills were indeed killing me. I tried three times to wean cold turkey, and it was for me like what I'd read heroin withdrawal is like. The psychiatrist said withdrawal was impossible, the pills were not addictive. I knew he was wrong, perhaps brainwashed in med school and by pharmacy companies. 

Can't imagine why you the other day suggested I return to that, if you had concluded it was awful for me back then. When I told the psychiatrist I was terminating going with psychiatry, I told him there was nothing wrong with me but God messing with me. When I first met him, I told him I was a mystic in trouble, could he help me? Yes, he said. Turned out, he knew nothing about mystics. Zero. Nada. I spent a long time explaining to him different mystics well known in Christendom. He was Methodist, as I reall. Had never heard of any of what I told him. 

The most interesting moment came when Aubry Loftis asked me if I was going to take up my father's offer to send me to the Menninger Clinic in Topeka, Kansas? World famous psychiatric clinic recommended by the psychiatrist. He had grown up there. His father was a staff psychiatrist there. After completing his own psychiatric residency, my psychiatrist worked at Menninger in their free clinic, which treated poor people. He said it's a wonderful place. They will help me. I asked, why would he say that? What would they do different than he he had tried for almost a year and a half with me? Deborah [my then wife] was all for it, too.

I told Aubry I was going to the gulf coast to think about it. He loaned me some of his fishing tackle. Deborah got mad that I left. I was away maybe 5 days and came back. I called Aubry to let him know I was back. He said he'd had a dream while I was gone. He had dreamt for me for some time. Even when I was in hell with psychiatry he dreamt for me. In his dreams I was okay, it was not what everyone thought. 

Anyway, in this dream, he and I went to Menninger to check it out. It looked great from the outside. The front inside lobby looked great. The people there were great. While I was talking with them, Aubry went in the back to check it out. He came back out and told me there was nothing back there but padded cells and dungeons, and if I came there I would never be allowed to leave. 

I shared that with an older woman I knew, who had been what is called a Christian intercessor since she was a child. She heard things from above, for herself, for other people. She said she was hearing that if I went to Meninnger, I would stay there until my father was pressured by Joann to stop paying for it, and then I would be sent to the state mental hospital in Kansas, and there I would live out my days.

When I shared that with Deborah and her mother, it was like I was speaking Russian. When I shared that with my psychiatrist, it was like I was speaking Russian. Or, had not even said it. I suppose you are receiving it the same way, and I understand that. It's how most of my life goes. Fortunately, I have known people who were fluent in Russian and had no trouble hearing what I told them. Right now there are three of them , who dream for me. Who my psychiatrist would label something, because it is beyond his ken. Or, he would say they made it up. 

I suppose my psychiatrist may have thought Aubry made up his dream. Or I made it up. Or the psychiatrist did not think dreams mean anything, they are only dreams. Not much of a psychiatrist, if he viewed dreams in that way. And he was a good guy. I liked him. Despite his ignorance. I figured he would stay that way, unless something woke him up. Something he had never thought existed. Although, he did believe God existed. He did believe he was saved by Jesus. But that kind of thing, I suppose, didn't happen any more. I don't know. We never talked about that.

Here's how Deborah and I both learned she and I were no longer supposed to be together. This happened about 3 months before the Menninger events. Her back went out. She was nearly invalidated. She went to a chiropractor I knew. No help. She went to a neurosurgeon. He put her in traction, in her and my bed. Indefinitely. I was taking care of her, which was very difficult, given my own malaise, which was beyond imagination awful. She was able to get herself to the toilet and shower, but I was doing the cooking and everything else. One day, she screamed, "What's wrong with my back!!!???" I sat down on the bed beside her. I said, I think we just don't suit each other. It's nobody's fault. She said she thought I was right. The next morning she woke up and her back was well. Yet she had the darndest time seeing that was the signal we needed to split up. I saw it loud and clear, but I was afraid of what lay ahead, if I was alone. 

A man I had met had been offering me his spare bedroom for months. He attended the same church my mother had attended. He was fascinated by my stories about things not of this world. Yet he had never once had a mystical experience. He wished he was having that in his life. After coming back from the gulf coast and telling Deborah and my psychiatrist about Aubry's dream, I went to stay with that man for a couple of months. Then other things happened, and his time and mine were over.

Before that, though, he saw me go through awful things he knew were being done to me by not of this world beings. He doubted none of it. He was worried for me, because what I was experiencing was terrifying for the most part. My dreams were leading me through it. And Aubrey's dreams. And then other people came along, who were hearing and seeing what most people will never hear or see. Including the intercessor woman. She was part of it, too. While I weaned from the chemicals, which took about a month, officially, but it was 6 months, using a special diet, to get the residues out of me. The diet was prescribed from above, through one of the human helpers. Who themselves were being worked on by the celestial beings.

I doubt that interests you, Nelle. But there are many people it does interest. Up to a point. They don't want to experience it. Not at that level. Because they don't want to change much. Which that journey requires. 

It kept coming to me yesterday to suggest you print out this between us recently and show it to a psychiatrist or two. See how that goes. I hardly would hold my breath personally that it would go any different than I experienced with psychiatrists. Who thought they were treating me. The psychiatrists I treated, however, got far more than they had wanted. They reminded me of Christians. Reading about God, Jesus and angels is nice, but experiencing them up close and personal isn't. 

One of my helpers was Jewish. By the time the celestial beings were done with him, he was talking like a Christian mystic. He did not believe Jesus had existed. He did not believe the Christ existed. He KNEW. He knew Archangel Michael, too. KNEW. And others not of this world. They turned him everywhichaway but loose. It blew him away. And he was a New Age Taoist, Yoga healer/adept, he had thought.

Aubry Loftis had his own up close and personal dunking in that, until he was put by his wife to choose between her and me, after he had a dream about me which gave him another heart attack and put him in the hospital again. I didn't handle that well, and lost a very dear friend who KNEW God existed. 

That came about for real, after a lot of being introduced to it, when Aubrey fell off a ladder working on a wood duck house on the hill below his home. He knew he had broken a leg. He told God he was hurt, he needed help. A voice came back, "So you know my name!!!???" Then he saw a progression of geometric symbols and mathematical equations, which were about God. Aubry was an engineer. He stood up and walked up the hill to the steps to the deck on the back of his home, and walked up the steps and told his wife he was hurt and needed to go to the hospital. The doctor at the hospital told him, with that injury, there was no way he could have walked up that hill and up those steps. [Aubry was the production manager in my father's potato chip/snackfood company.]

I recall singing to you and Alice most nights, "Today" and "Raindrops keep falling on my head". I hoped that would instill in you something you would use for the rest of your lives. I hoped that, because I knew I was not doing well as a father, because I was having a really rough go, rooted in my bowel going haywire in one day after you were born, Nelle. I even then felt it had to be a God thing, because of how it happened. No warning. I was okay, then I was not. No doctor every fixed that. Plenty of doctors made it worse. As did plenty of things I tired. It had its own intelligence. It did not like been messed with. We learned to live with each other. It is a good barometer now for what I'm dealing with on and off this world. It is kinder to me now, than when I was trying to raise you and Alice, but it still limits me greatly, in matters of this world. Maybe when I leave this life, I will see what really had to do with it. Now, it's just me trying to make educated guesses, some of which might be close.

I have admired your dedication to staying sober, your devotion to John and your daughters. I have admired John's career development and challenges. He was a like a son to me. As was Alice's first husband. 

Do you recall me coming from Boulder to see you and John and, for the first time, Jordon, when you lived in Columbia? I got there and told you I'd had two dreams of you dying. I stayed a few days. As we talked, you told me of two things with AA that seemed to explain my dreams. One, the AA leaders there wanted you to leave Jordan with expressed milk, while you attended an AA conference of some kind in St. Louis, I think. I was so mad I wanted to kill those idiots. You decided not to do it. The other was, you were not attending meetings as regular as you should, and you said you would get back to doing meetings.

Did your mom ever tell you about the argument she and I had in 2004, when I stayed 2 months with Mike Cornwell in Tuscaloosa? She insisted Alice and David, and you and John, had never stayed in Betty's and my home in Boulder. It never happened. Nor that I had fed Alice's snake live white mice each week for a month, while she and David were checking out living out west. 

Imagine my and David's surprise, when he bumped into me in a small Costa Rican Pacific beach village in early 2000. Nobody in my family knew I had left the country, or that I was in Costa Rica. He came down there on a rotation in his medical internship. it was a long holiday weekend, He rented a motorcycle and headed on an adventure from the medical clinic where he was working for a few weeks. He came straight to where I was hanging out. Rented a cabina at the place where I ate lunch every day. Told me he was leaving Alice. Me, the only person on this planet who could give him permission and bless him and wish him the best in his new life. Total coincidence, he believed, even after I asked him if he believed in God yet? 

I mention that now, because when you and I started communicating again a couple years ago, you said how I had related to Alice re her and David was why you and she had cut me out of your and your families' lives. She had only asked me for advice once, and I had told her to never let anything get between her and her husband, even if she had to kill it. I reminded her of that when you told me they were having trouble, before I left the US. David told me in Costa Rica that my letter had really upset her. It ain't any easier now being a father than it was then, or when you and Alice were little, or when I came to Columbia after having those two dreams that you had died. 

I told a mainland friend yesterday, who can't wrap her mind around what you wrote to me about returning to psychiatry and living in a shelter, that, if I got a call saying you or Alice had been kidnapped, I would say send me an airplane ticket and I would fly there and offer to swap me for my child, and they could do with me what they would. Meanwhile, I really do wish you and John and Jordan and Avery all the best and good, happy, productive lives.

John Denver Lyrics


Today while the blossoms still cling to the vine,
I'll taste your strawberries, I'll drink your sweet wine.
A million tomorrows shall all pass away, 'ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today.
I'll be a dandy and I'll be a rover, you'll know who I am by the songs that I sing.
I'll feast at your table, I'll sleep in your clover, who cares what tomorrow shall bring?

Today while the blossoms still cling to the vine,
I'll taste your strawberries, I'll drink your sweet wine.
A million tomorrows shall all pass away, 'ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today.
I can't be contented with yesterday's glory, I can't live on promises winter to spring.
Today is my moment, and now is my story, I'll laugh and I'll cry and I'll sing.

Today while the blossoms still cling to the vine,
I'll taste your strawberries, I'll drink your sweet wine.
A million tomorrows shall all pass away, 'ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today.

Hal David and Burt Bacharach lyrics
Raindrops Keep Falling

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head
And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed
Nothin' seems to fit
Those raindrops are fallin' on my head, they keep fallin'
So I just did me some talkin' to the sun
And I said I didn't like the way he got things done
Sleepin' on the job
Those raindrops are fallin' on my head, they keep fallin'
But there's one thing I know
The blues they send to meet me won't defeat me
It won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me
Raindrops keep fallin' on my head
But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red
Cryin's not for me
'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'
Because I'm free
Nothin's worryin' me
It won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me
Raindrops keep fallin' on my head
But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red
Cryin's not for me
'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'
Because I'm free
Nothin's worryin' me

FRI 9:29AM

Some thoughts on your messages. I was not suggesting that you live in a shelter - You said you were homeless and a shelter seemed like a better temporary option that sleeping at the police station. I think you said it best when you wrote that other people reacted as if you were speaking Russian to them. When you are not medicated, I do not understand your language. When you are unmedicated you also have a history of saying things that are unkind and sometimes frightening. I do believe this is unintentional because you are so wrapped up in your dreams that you don't realize you are being hurtful or scary. But I respect your choice to live without it. It is hard for me to write this, because I've tried to commit myself to forgiveness and understanding where you and your choices are concerned. But I feel the need to be clear with you Dad. Not being able to communicate with you in adulthood has been tough for Alice and me in ways I will not elaborate here. Mostly it makes us sad that you don't know really know us or your grandchildren. You write prolifically about your struggles with the world but you don't have much to say about the impact your physical absence had on your daughters. Your reliance on facts derived from dreams (rather than from personal interactions) has been especially damaging to both of us. You do not know the facts about what happened with Alice and David's marriage. Your dreams and your conversation with David left out quite a bit. I suspect you would feel differently if you knew what really happened. It was heartbreaking for all of us that you didn't support Alice through that ordeal. But again, we knew that you reacting to a false narrative and a very limited understanding of what was happening. Fortunately, Alice is now married to a wonderful man who loves her and has two beautiful children by him. I count my blessings every day that I am also married to a wonderful man who has also been a devoted father to our girls. Alice and I have both built strong families with blood, sweat, and tears - and we are both extremely grateful for the relationships we have. I will not suggest again that you consider psychiatric help. It has helped many people I love and it has helped me too from time to time. I understand that it is not for you. I wish you the best Dad.

When David was in Costa Rica, I told him he was getting all the blame for it? Yes, he said, including his own family and friends, were blaming him. He said he would tell me one thing, so I would understand why he was leaving Alice.

They went somewhere with another couple on a sailboat vacation. The entire week, Alice most stayed below deck studying her medical books. She only had time for medical school. He had time for both. He needed more. I told him I had tried to warn Alice about that.

Even today, I have no clue what Alice's side of it was. Is. You have not told me. Alice has not told me. Your mother has not told me.

What I do know, for a fact, because I heard her say it. Your mother was all for Jeanie [Nelle's mother's younger sister] being married, a mom and a doctor. Your mother was really revved up about that. It made me sick to my stomach, seeing her living through Jeanie like that. When I heard Jeanie decided being a doctor was not right for her, I was so happy for and proud of her. It reminded me of your displeasure with Bryn-Mawr sending out a survey to its graduates asking what profession/line of work they were in, which info Bryn-Mawr would use to solicit money from Bryn Mawr grads and advertise to new students. There was no place on the survey for wife and mother.

I know Alice got pregnant by David when they were soon in med school together, and she made some arrangement to take a leave of absence as she neared the birth, but then she learned the fetus had died in utero and she then had to fight for her life. She told me she'd never been happier when she was pregnant. I told her, it looked to me her soul was not able to be both a mother and a medical student. So one had to yield. She would have a chance later to be a mother. I felt so sorry for her, because it sure looked to me she had replaced Jeanie for your mother. Now she was doing it all. And, frankly, I wanted to strangle your mother, but I kept all of that to myself as far as she, you and Alice were concerned, until now.

Plenty of people today wish I was on meds, thinking that would stop me from seeing things that way and saying what I see. The irony was, when I was loaded up with meds that were literally, but slowly killing me, and driving me truly insane, I still saw things in that way. I was so messed up, though, that I stopped telling people what I was seeing. It seemed hypocritical on my part, to be so messed up and calling people out.

The elephant in the living room in this conversation is the size of Jupiter. You asked me how I'm doing, I tell you. I'm living on the street. Your replies, for far, remind me of what I heard from time to time said to homeless people in soup kitchen lines run by local churches. If you only accepted Jesus as Lord and Savior, you would not be homeless. When I called those people out in front of everyone, I bet they wished I was on meds. Or dead.

I was called this morning by someone who told me of Joann's efforts to have me killed, literally. Hiring it out. Because of my past dealings with the caller, I had no reason do doubt the news.

Two other friends have been dreaming for weeks that someone is trying to kill me.

I'm a sitting duck, living on the street in a small town, where my daily habits are known. Presently, I am staying with a friend for a few days, but he has guests arriving and I will have to leave. He's skeptical anyone would actually try to kill me. Which is bizarre, given what all he knows about what I have learned about people in dreams, which turned out to be true.

You cannot blame me, Nelle, for the choices you made regarding me. Nor can Alice. You do not know me, and you may never know me. I accepted that years ago. Nothing I could do about it. Nothing I can do about it now. But level with you, when we do speak.

On Facebook, photos both of Alice's beautiful children, whom I may never meet, wear glasses. Did you ever wonder about that? Two eye doctors produce children with impaired vision? Are the parents not seeing something? I'm to take meds not to see that?

Far more difficult things I said to my father and Joann over time, stemming from Joann. You will never know how ironic is was for me to learn you and Alice and your husbands and Dianne had lunch with Joann in my mother's home after my father's wake, when you all could have had lunch at the Birmingham Country Club with Major and his new wife and their children, Major's children by Gail, my sister Elizabeth. I thought everyone of you need eye glasses. And hearing aids. And new brains. For not seeing what had invited you to dinner. 

After you all had heard the Baptist minister preach up to Joann at the wake, making up stories about my father's WW II medals, talking about all of his money. What were you all thinking? Debora sat beside me at the wake, in the family section. She was so mad at that minister that she could barely contain herself, when she hissed, "You cannot worship God and mammon!"

In 1998, in the steam room of the Bham YMCA, an older man I did not know, on learning I was Sloan Bashinsky, asked if my father had been with a B 29 squadron on Guam during WWII? Yes, I said. The man said he was with a B29 squadron there, too. My father was a bombardier/navigator, meaning he plotted the course of the flight of his B29 to Japan and back to Guam. He was forever getting his airplane lost over the Pacific, and they had to return to Guam and drop their bombs in the sea before landing, to avoid blowing up their aircraft. My father got shifted to different B29 squadrons, none of which wanted him on their aircraft. The man told me that day in the YMCA. 

I later had a friend who told me that God told her that had happened because God knew my father's soul did not like killing people, so he lost his aircraft. I recalled my mother telling me my father had hated killing people he did not know, or even see, from way up in an airplane with bombs. 

I eventually told all of that to my father in a letter, hoping it would help him feel better about it. He probably did not receive the letter, because Joann was intercepting letters I sent to him. Your mother told me in the fall of 2004 that my father and Joann sent her (your mother) every letter I sent to my father, for your mother, with a PhD in psychology, to diagnose my state of mind in each letter and report that back to them. I hope she told my father why he kept losing those B29s over the Pacific.

Perhaps I should have killed myself when I was on the meds. I thought about it every day I was taking them. A lot of people would have been a lot happier if I had done it. Because after I came out of that black hole, I was seeing and hearing and sensing and dreaming in ways that were far more disturbing to other people, than before the black night came.

I was told something about Joann in a phone call today that can be verified or ruled out by looking at court records in litigation in which my father's estate was involved, which if it is true, could make Joann wish even harder that I am dead. I'm letting my lawyer know, in case I get bumped off meanwhile.

Regarding the impact of my own difficulties when you and Alice you were young, I have reported many times at my websites that it had to be devastating. That I was distracted. Trying to prove myself. And plenty more. You and I talked about a great deal at the Fish House in 1990, when you and John were becoming a couple. We were dead level honest with each other. You initiated it by calling me from Washington D.C. area, as I recall, and I burst into tears when you told me why you were calling. 

I did not move you and Alice to Tuscaloosa, however, which made it a lot more difficult to be part of your lives, moreso after you both got older and into participating in the social / school activities there. I remember one year your mother wanted you out of Tuscaloosa for the summer. I offered for you to stay with Jane and me. Your mother did not like that. She was wanting me to approve Granddad's trust to send you to, what, Italy? She came to the bank in Birmingham with Omer and tried to override me and the bank declined. I heard about that after the fact. She took you and Alice away for entire summers it seemed, and got mad when I mentioned that. I came to see that I had zero say so in raising you. 

I was having a very rough go physically, over which I had zero control. My life was coming apart at the seams. That's why I moved to Santa Fe. I hoped it would restart my life. It did, but the restart was something that got me locked up in a psych ward in Georgia when I told Nurse Rached about it. 

I have no illusion about my many mistakes, which I personally call fuck ups. I have outed myself many times on my websites since the first one went online in mid 2006. Never, once, did it ever occur to me to hurt you, your sister, or your mother, or your and Alice's husbands or children. I would have put myself in lethal harm's way to defend my daughters and grandchildren, if the opportunity arose. 

When you have a child die, it changes your perspective about everything. Or so happened to me anyway. It seriously affected your mother, too, and I can't tell she ever dealt with it, although I suggested ways she could without involving me. She seems to think she is smarter than God, and I don't know how she got to be like that, because her parents, whom I loved dearly, were not like that. I wish her no harm. I know she had a rough go being Omar's wife. Rough on Omer, too. A wonderful man, I loved him dearly. Was grateful for all he did and tried to do for you and Alice. Clearly, he loved you both immensely. As did I. As do I now.
Seen by Nelle Cohen at Friday 7:58pm

Hi again, Nelle –

Between dreams and ruminations, I think what led us to this point is you telling me in early 2000 that Alice and David were having problems and I wrote to Alice and David jointly about that, urging them to put their marriage first, confessing I had not done that with my marriage and children, and look how that went. Then, David showed up out of the blue in Costa Rica, and I became insane, mean, dangerous, as far as you, Alice and your mother were concerned.

You three did not treat me that way before then. I came down to Tuscaloosa to visit all of you whenever you and/or Alice were there for Thanksgiving or Christmas. When I was in the black hole for 16 months 1998-99, I came though Columbia coming back from Colorado and Idaho, where I had gone trying to get relief. I stayed a few nights in your and John’s home. 

You two were looking for a new home and took me with you to look at one you liked, because I had done a lot of work in the homebuying and homeselling arena when I had practiced law. I told you that home was two-story, had a stair case dangerous to children, best to find a safe house for children, which you then did and bought it. 

I was really screwed up then because of the psychiatrist’s pills. That was obvious even to the Realtor lady. But there was no talk or indication any of you felt I was dangerous.

When I was coming out of the black hole, you and John had moved to Louisiana, and I drove from Birmingham to there and spent a couple of nights, or so, in your home. You and I took Jordon and Avery to public park one day. There was nothing from you or John indicating you felt I was a threat to your family. I became a threat after you told me Alice and David were having trouble.

When I stayed with Mike Cornwell in the late fall 2004, I called Omer’s home and left a voicemail saying I was calling to say I was in town staying with Mike for a while, so if Dianne or Omer bumped into to me they would not be surprised. I left Mike’s phone number. 
A few days later your mother called to say she had been out of town, out of the country I think, and she was just back and was returning my call. That telephone call went really strange. It was clear your mother was freaked out I was in Tuscaloosa. She refused to tell me why you and Alice had cut me out of your lives. She refused to tell me where you and Alice were living. I later would bump into some on the street, who told me. 

Was not long after I talked with Dianne that Mike told me he was approached by a local lawyer buddy Dianne had called saying she was afraid of me. Afraid I was going to hurt her. Mike told the lawyer I was staying in his home. He was not afraid of me. He did not think I was dangerous. The lawyer apologized to Mike.

A few days later, Mike told me he had been called by John’s lawyer sister because Dianne was afraid I was going to hurt her. Later, Mike bumped into your sister in law’s lawyer husband, who told Mike that he tried to talk his law partner wife out of getting involved, Dianne had many problems. I handwrote a letter to your sister in law at her law office, offering to come there for her to interview me and size me up. She did not reply to my letter. I handwrote Dianne a letter recounting all of that, and that she needed to know what her own lawyers were saying about her. 

Some months ago, I briefly alluded to that in a Facebook message to Dianne, and she wrote back that she did not recall any of that happening. Or that she had told me back then that my father and Joann were sending her my letters to my father, for her, with a PhD in psychology, to evaluate my state of mind. 

I had heard Joann was intercepting my letters to my father. It was not known if he ever saw them. It’s a federal crime to intercept and open mail not addressed to you, unless you have legal authority to so.

My father was a drug addict. He had a problem in his spine which his doctors could not figure out or fix, which caused a lot of pain. For a while he took oral pain killers, and that got out of hand. He found a doctor who put some kind of pump in him to trickle liquid pain killers into his system. I suppose that occurred around early 1995, for that is when my father told me himself that he had found a new doctor who was getting him off all of that “oral stuff.” 

I was on Big Pine Key at that time. Had flown from Boulder to Miami, because I’d been told in my sleep, “Go to Big Pine Key. Go as soon as possible. This is important.” Then, I was at the Denver airport in the dream, buying a ticket to Big Pine Key. In the next ticket kiosk over were my father and Dr. Leo buying tickets to Islamorada. I once had fished for tarpon on Big Pine Key with Birmingham business contemporaries of my father. I took the dream to mean I was striking out on my own, leaving my father and Leo’s world’s behind.

During that same telephone conversation in early 1995, my father in Birmingham, I on Big Pine Key, he asked how I was doing? About like he was, I said. Very rough go physically. He told me to hang in there. I was in a dark night of the soul. Awful, but a piece of cake compared to the black night yet to come. 

He asked why I was at Big Pine Key? I said was told in a dream to go there. He said I had to go with that. Yeah, that’s what he said. I had to go with that. 

His spine pain had onset a few months prior after I told him he needed to shed his father’s influence on him, about the same time my sister hired lawyers to contest her Bashinsky grandfather’s trust, which only allowed her to sell stocks with the approval of the oldest living male Bashinsky – me. I had encouraged Sis to go for it.
I don’t know if my father ever connected those dots with his back pain. I doubt he knew, of this children, which one truly loved him. Me. 

Joann intercepted the letter I wrote to my father in late 1999, saying I and my two then best men friends, Aubry Loftis and someone my father did not know, all had dreamed I had an older half-brother named Travis. If so, I was not upset, but, if anyone knew how to get in touch with Travis, I’d like to contact him and try to get to know him. All hell broke loose after that. Joann was in the middle of it. As usual. 

I had not dared write that letter based even of three people’s dreams. I had gone to Dr. Leo and asked him if I had an older half brother? Leo looked me hard in the eye and said he didn’t want anything to do with that! I did not mention Leo in the letter to my father. [Leo was my father's older brother and my and my daughters' baby doctor.]

Your mother, when we were married, did not like Joann. Nor did Major’s wife. As far as I know, Joann was the only person Major’s wife did not like, although she came to not like Major. 

One time Joann and my father, and Joann’s brother and his wife, and Dianne and I were at the Fish House, and Dianne told me she was propositioned by Joann’s brother. [The Fish House was my father's home on Lower Matecumbe Key, Islamorada.]

Another time, Major and his wife and Dianne and I were to go to the Fish House with my father and Joann. Major’s wife and Dianne went down early, Major and I were to follow. Our wives called us in distress over how Joann and my father were treating them. Major and I flew down immediately. It was a row. 

How your mother ended up chummy with Joann I only can assign to madness and/or hoping to get money for you and Alice.

The one thing I did that to this day eats away at me is, the day after you were run over by the car on your bicycle when you were five, I went to the YMCA for lunch and played handball, instead of coming to the hospital.

I told you about that around the time in early 2000 you told me Alice and David were having trouble, perhaps in the same telephone conversation. You clearly were shaken. You asked me why I did that? I said I could not tell you why. I was really messed up back then. I asked you how you were taking what I had told you? You said you did not know yet. I think that was the last time we spoke on the telephone. Early 2000.

I found myself thinking a few times lately that what I am writing to you is sort of a last will and testament, even as I am wondering how any of my father’s estate plan can stand up? He was drunk most of his adult life. He was drunk when he signed his will and the early codicils thereto. He was also on the pain killers when he executed the codicil in later 2004, giving Joann the $14,000,000 in cash. 

My lawyer is in the loop on that. Joann and her lawyers, who were my father’s lawyers, who well know of my father’s booze and pain killer habits, are facing the nightmare of all nightmares now. If you knew Joann, you would know she is capable of trying to hire someone kill me. So, file this “last will and testament” away in a safe place just in case I end up mysteriously dead or missing. 

Meanwhile, if you still have an AA sponsor, run all of this Facebook chat between us by her/him. I can’t imagine a real AA sponsor being comfortable with it. I can’t imagine your Higher Power being comfortable with it. 

If your Higher Power takes you over, you will have my deepest and most sincere condolences. Do not, under any circumstances, let anyone talk you into seeking psychiatric help. Perhaps a savvy, seasoned AA person or rabbi, actually being run by his/her Higher Power, could help you move through it. Perhaps the only person who could help you is me.

Circa 1976, 
Nelle and me on stern off offshore fishing boat
 off of Islamorada

No comments:

Post a Comment