Homelessforfive was lost and now is found. Here is the link: homeless for five blog
I did not retitle it. But then I have never tried to hide my sign one name and have kept the same log on because I have nothing to hide. Never have. Blog has not been updated since 2002.
I would like to say that I found an attorney and sued the state of WI but no, I have not. I would like to say that when I received my lump sum disability I got a permanent home but I have not. What happened I have not reported until now. Search the web for KIA sportage flood car bought in Rolla MO in 2005.
I can say that fairness does not come to all who wait. I would like to say to anyone reading this after the five years since 2002 that nothing has changed. Except that I am older and more tired --still walking and biking---living in subsidized towers. Except even that is not so simple. I have just finished an even more difficult year even tho I did not work and had access to my monthly ss income. The details may come later but for now this: after a year in Traverse City, MI , I went back to Duluth MN, got furniture out of storage and went to River Falls, WI. 8 months there --I photographed the corpse plant blooming at the college greenhouse--then to Hudson, WI for 3 months, then to Osceola WI for another 3 months. Moving with furniture to Marquette MI where my homelessness was church sleeping and day walking. Furniture stored when I left and began a nightmare round of shelters beginning with Traverse City, then Grand Rapids, then back to Minneapolis MN, then Green Bay WI then back to Duluth MN. I did not choose to be homeless, at every agency applied for housing; it is a long story.
I stayed in the Duluth shelter after vowing never to live in Duluth again. Such is homelessness. Applied for housing in Escanaba and here I am. My brother ---I photographed him this time to prove he exists---brought my sofa and tables from storage in Traverse City ---over 2 years---and then went up and go the storage from Marquette--over a year---so now for the first time I have a sofa and chair that have never met in the same living room. Seems strange to me. In my storage are several duplications of clothes; same kind bought at different thrift stores. My computer I am typing on was in storage through the winter and came out in better shape than my sewing machine. I think don't I have a key to that lock? and find it---I have 4 locks and keys ---different storages, different reasons. I could write a book.
Starting with "Lisa" a volunteer in the Crandon library, my blog posts that reveal the manipulations of the people desiring our demise have disappeared. My telling of how Randy and I achieved tenderness amid poison of Minocqua have gone. How he was directed to a room at the Pines Motel (name long since changed) on the day he returned from Marshfield Hospital with heart surgery. It was barricaded with a 4 foot plowed up hill of snow. We --Randy and I struggle over this mountain of snow to the room he reserved before his surgery. My hypnotic pushes are at work and I am too cowed to confront this spiteful slap. I go to the hospital here in Minocqua for his meals and after 3 days he insists on returning to the body shop where, even with the dog sharing his bed, his surgery heals without any infection. The infection inhabiting Minocqua deepens and years later the govenor --J Doyle--- enacts legislation that allows people sold unbuildable lots to build on them.
The summer hummingbirds that hover and monitor us for flavor. Enteraining bright blurs. The man yo-yoing his poodle while Tango lunges with me hanging onto his collar being drug. My punishment for insisting that the humane oficer of Oneida county Gene Kable take my complaint about this man's dog abuse. It arrives in the form of a man walking in the front of the shop with an airedale cross. Tango has rushed out at at them. I am too late to stop the encounter which the man seems to enjoy. I am drug across the blacktop while the dog bites Tango through the shoulder. Both of us are down and he stays silent. He only calls his dog off when I beg him.
Tango is a pit bull that I take for runs into the woods behind the grocery Trigg's and see him pass other dogs in their yard ignoring them. He is the dog that walks with me after the pines are cut for the expansion the welding shop undergoes. He stops and sniffs at a pile of leaves and waits for me to explore and find a nest of baby squirrels. He is more patient than usual as we take them across Hgwy 70 to the vet. This is the dog that goes into the woods and carries a deer leg for an hour, but as I have cautioned him, never brings back a bear. The only time I am truly lost he leads me back when I say Car Tango. Tennessee uses a dog to draw him so he is hit by a truck. The vet kills him.
My river of black velvet has disappeared. Does it still wind like a dark ribbon edged with velvet green? Do the minerature ginseng so lovely in bloom in the early spring wood grow? Does Daniel remember saying his prayers when he slept with me on the floor under the bunk Randy built in the spare room of 8783 Frank Drive----God bless Mom and Dad and Granny Ona. Only there is no God or Randy would not have been murdered. Hebert who purred silently on Randy's desk and shows his perfect understanding of English and put down as he manipulates his body over the pant's leg of the customer to whom I have just explained my cat's unique nature and singular reluctance to be a cat.
Please write my story. This is why: there is a new biogaphy out about Dorothy Day. She was part of the nursing crew for the 1918 flu pandemic. She was part of the sexual freedom that resulted in her meeting a man larger than life. He did not want a child and she had an abortion. A marrige, divorce, and a relationship that she wanted to end in marriage but again No. She gave up and turned her energy to church. She wrote about the abortion and the first publisher refused ---said it recognizable as a life story--not interested. She had it published nevertheless as vindication of her feeling. This man strangely enough was the editor under whom Hemmingway first worked. He formed the image of the man Hemmingway modeled himself after. I believe this man was evil. I think his influence destoryed not only Dorothy Day but Hemmingway also. I think there is evil in what was done to Randy, Me and our children and grandchildren. Directed malignant evil that defied laws and morality. That stalked and killed a family. It needs to be exposed.
Such a serious charge needs substantiation; I have none. There is only me, and of course, Jack Haug and the two men who knocked on the door of the Magic Touch Body shop the morning of Randy's death seeming on top of the world asking for Randy, when can they bring the vehicle in. Two men? There is Jack McCormick if that is his real name. Pete Venturi, Gabe Coconate: Hey Redneck! Got plenty of work?!
I can offer this: when I was 12 during the summer I went to a dental appointment my Dad made with a dentist who worked out of his home on Pleasant Run Parkway in south Indianapolis, IN. I think now that I have been force to recall that time, his dental office was sparce, just a dental chair, I think. His purpose was salvation. If there is a God, he was living on Pleasant Run Parkway in 1959. He may not have been about saving the world but he saved me; pity cops asset shopping should have destroyed what he saved. All to take a house they could have built themselves and not had to kill a family for, long decades after my twelfth year. A lifetime of wiving and mothering and a grandmother with skill -- all thrown away for greedy cops.
There is evil in the world, and it is always connected to greed, vicious, twisted greed that adds a greater evil to one already committed. Why would anyone want to change a person's life by drawing a new history, an unknown, unfamiliar one, and making this dark shadow loom large in a present that did not warrant it? Greed, greed and evil. Evil that took 6 years to kill a warm, deep-hearted man because he was committed to a marriage 25 years old?
Evil that stood by and let this day after day cruelty damage our life. Jack Haug and Rhinelander deserve each other. Jack McCormick, I hope you live long and every single night you relive Randy limping to his shelf bed with you standing by your van wanting more repair on the 3x returned rust rocker panels. You threw away much more than your morality in your many visits to Magic Touch Auto Body; you threw away your humanity.
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