It Should Have Never Happened This Way


She was poor. He was poor. The two together were rich in love. They scraped and saved and were able to put a down payment on a small property outside of town. It had one acre which was plenty big enough for the garden they wanted to plant. The house was needing a lot of love and they knew with time; they could fix it up real nice.

 

One by one the five children were born. Money got tighter but they made it. They grew their vegetables.  They butchered a cow once a year. They canned wild berries and peaches from the trees. They made their own applesauce. Nothing was wasted.

 

Christmas and birthdays were celebrated with a home-made cake with a vanilla frosting and there was always a stitched gift of some sort that each child needed at that particular time.

 

The kids were sent to the one-room school which had stood for over one hundred years. They attended until the parents thought they had learned enough and then kept them home to  help out on the land.

 

The kids seemed good in the parents eyes; but their deep thoughts were on anything but this home. They wanted more. They had read plenty of high society magazines and books and they knew there was a bigger world out there.

 

As each one grew up and found their own way, they either moved out and on or got married and bought a property in town. There wasn’t much communication between the kids and parents after those days. They seemed to be more interested in obtaining what they thought they lacked as kids and the parents were dealing with more and more health issues.

 

They didn’t have health care insurance. Oh, they got sick now and then. A cold, a flu to deal with or a bad stomach ache. Neither of them had thought or been taught about what would or could happen when they got old.

 

Pa had recurring pain in his chest until one day he fell down. He never got back up and the family came and paid their last respects out back underneath the big oak tree. It was right after that; they left to go back to their lives.

 

Ma tried her best to carry on what needed to be done each day; but she was not able to keep up. She was tired. She was ailing and she was old. Her gray hair was thinned. Her fingers had bumps in them from Arthritis. Her legs ached.

 

After about six months went by, she had a stroke. No one actually knew the real facts about how long she lay in that house until help arrived. She was checked over by the county doctor and placed in her bed.

 

Once a week the doc would come check on her. He would shake his head trying to figure out what was actually keeping her alive. She knew, but she wouldn’t speak of it. Words for her were hard to get out. Looking around her room, she saw work that needed to be done; but no one helped.

 

The kids came by about once a month. Their children played outside. It was almost like this was a task more than a visit. It was so filled with webs. The kids mainly sat by her bed and said few words. When they felt like the proper time had been spent, they called for the kids letting them know it was time to depart. No child ever said, goodbye grandma.

 

She was lonely. She yearned for the love of her dead husband. She had no reason to live. She made up her mind to take this in her own hands and so that next morning she willed herself to die.

 

Once again, the kids came to pay their respects. After the funeral was over, they went through the home and took what they wanted and took the remains and tossed it in a big burn pile out back.

 

When only ashes were seen, a sudden downpour of rain hit. Lightening struck. Trees were turned over. The sky dark. Thunder was as if it was cursing the kids for what they had done to their parents.

 

The lightening hit the barn and the house, burning it to the ground in no time at all. The kids who had run for cover, found no cover remaining. They were forced to watch as the home they grew up in was demolished. They were forced to hear the demons ravish their souls.

 

It was then, and only then, that the kids seemed to understand what had happened. They came together and held hands. They looked out and over the once loving home that their parents had given them and they wept; but it was too late. They would live with their guilt for the rest of their days.

 

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Save our Youth


What makes people do bad things? I just read where a babysitter bit a three year old. For heaven’s sake! She was the babysitter? How in the world do parents find the right person to care for their children? It doesn’t do any good to get references, people can lie.

 

Word of mouth is a good way to find a good babysitter in my opinion. Someone who has already tried and have been satisfied with the care. What about the things going on in our communities?

Priests who are pedophiles. Gym teachers, coaches. Why can’t we trust our leaders?

(Pedophilia, or paedophilia, is a psychiatric disorder in which an adult or older adolescent experiences a primary or exclusive sexual attraction to prepubescent children.)

It seems these two-legged creatures hide behind their jobs, looking and abusing our youth.

http://www.fox25boston.com/news/trending-now/3yearold-allegedly-assaulted-by-her-babysitter-dies/717932130

 

https://www.ncronline.org/news/accountability/buffalo-diocese-priest-says-he-abused-probably-dozens-boys

 

https://nypost.com/2018/02/19/us-swimming-did-little-as-hundreds-of-coaches-abused-kids/

 

Do you believe that the more we take God out of office, the more damage is done to our people and youth? Let me know your thoughts on this question.

 

Something has to be done. We are hoping our youth will help care for us when we grow old. Do you want someone caring for you when you are helpless when their mind has been torn and damaged from their childhood?

What can we as citizens do to change things? Please share your thoughts with me.

 

Every_8_Minutes 122016eee72128a72f93b04149220fd0cffbb4--physical-abuse-verbal-abuse

 

 

Daily Prompt/ One Word Prompt


https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/provoke/

The word for today is Provoke

stimulate or give rise to (a reaction or emotion, typically a strong or unwelcome one) in someone.

You are sitting in your living room watching the news. School shooter strikes again! You share a few comments among each other and then go back to watching the news or worse yet; look down at that cell phone, which cuts you off from real socializing.Bizarro-in-heaven-without-cell-phones

You are one of many sitting at the Oval table. A knock at the door, he enters with news. Another school shooting! Whispers and coughing spread rapidly amongst  all of those present. How can we deal with this? What can we do to not upset the apple bucket? We have to be careful what we do and say so we don’t mess with our standing for the next election? We will have to come up with a solution soon.download (1)You are sitting at your office and news comes through the ceiling speakers. Another school shooting. You grab your purse and jacket. You race down the hall and you pull out your cell and call your spouse.

You drive like a maniac to the school your child attends. Police are trying to direct traffic. Yellow barrier markers are holding you back. You quickly speak gibberish, letting them know you are a parent. You wait, hand in hand with your other half. Minutes turn into drive me nuts time. The horse finally gives you the news you so anxiously await for. Your child didn’t make it.nintchdbpict000294810060

You are a teenager that goes to a school somewhere in the United States. You are scared to go back to school because of a recent shooting rampage. You are heart broken that your friend is no longer living. You get mad. You talk to your other friends. You gather together. You form a large bond. You have decided to provoke these mad men who take it upon themselves to make decisions to mess with other people’s lives. You band together and begin your protest. You have courage. You have words to say. You will show everyone that you aren’t going to take this shit anymore!main_1200

Being a Caregiver can be a Bitch


Oh my God! I instantly get pissed off when I read crap about caregiver abuse.

I posted an article about a family member and the caregiver abuse that was involved. How can people do this?

I know from my own personal experience; being a caregiver for a patient can be very stressful. It’s even worse for a family member to be the primary caregiver.

Caregivers have to watch the illness take over the life and watch to the very end; which many times ends up in a sad situation.

Family caregivers fight with various emotions. They are watching their loved one become less than the person they knew.
Many times there isn’t enough relief and the hours turn into many long and lonely hours.
Sometimes caregivers fight the memories. Why didn’t they do more, say more syndrome?
Then there is the background noise. People suddenly start claiming property or trinkets as if the patient was already deceased.

Thoughts have to eventually turn to the future. Questions roaming in the mind can often be; how will I make it? Why didn’t we prepare burial insurance? Will I have to sell the house? I can’t keep doing this forever; I have a job!

So many questions, so much emotion, and yet we continue to move through the days. Why? Because we genuinely care about the patient or they are our spouse and we love them.

My brother, Al, was no easy piece of cake to take care of. He was mentally challenged in his thinking, especially. Having Multiple System Atrophy and Parkinson’s, kept him even slower with his thinking.

Various times I was screamed at, threatened, verbally abused, and there were even a few times I was hit by him. Sure, the normal part of me said, FORGET THIS CRAP!!!! I DON’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS.

That thought entered my mind. For God’s sake; I am human, but the love I felt for my brother; kept me going on for those seven years. I was blessed with, from God, to be a caregiver.

I actually loved and still love taking care of people who need help, but let’s face it, every day isn’t a picnic. Next month will be four years since I lost my brother to MSA. I wouldn’t change a darn thing I did. I know I did a good job. Well there is my little part of patting myself on the back; if you wish to see it that way.

The point I am trying to make is; not everyone is born to be a caregiver. Some can’t face watching the patient decline. Then there are those who seem to have the gift. They put their heart and soul into it, and care about nothing more than giving good care and comfort.

If you find you can’t care for a person. Don’t continue to do so out of guilt. Bad things happen from guilt. Examples, anger builds, neglect can happen and so many other things.

Except you are not the person to be performing this type of work.. Look at alternatives. Ask for help. Seek Respite care, family members, nursing homes, elderly attorneys. Do what is right for you and the patient.

When I read about caregivers who abuse and neglect their patients, I try to understand how it happened, but the fact is; it happened.

Thank-you for letting me get this off my chest.

Terry Shepherd
A former caregiver for many years
Now dealing with Parkinsonism/ Ataxia/ Dystonia

#MSA#Parkinsons #Caregivers#Patientcare

 

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Who? Who?


In my day; life was good; no better than today. Not just because the economy was stabilized, not only were students and schools working together, but morality was higher.

As I listen to the news and daily talk shows, my heart sinks, as I ponder on who kids can trust today. The saying was ” don’t get into cars with strangers.” ” Your policemen are your friend.”

Today, I don’t trust very many. The most groups I don’t trust are, teachers, politicians, ministers and high-office positions. You may say,” Why in the world do you say that”?

Simple, Satan is at work. Egos are too high, too much confidence, too much concern over self, too concerned with money and the need for power is; overwhelming.

Send your child to a training camp and there is a fat chance sexual abuse will be happening to one of those kids. Allow your child to attend private school or tech schools, or big and small colleges, you can guarantee somewhere, sometime, someone will be sexually abused.

I am not saying that all police, teachers, priests, high-up people are bad. What I am saying, is to some, the “I can get by with it and I need to quench my personal needs” approach is being more observed.

So much for the mental and physical damages occurring to those taken advantage of; the person doing the damage has lost their mind in the name game,”ME FIRST”.

It is just sick, the world is getting the SATAN SICKNESS and what’s worse, is some are helping to cover up the crime. Like I said earlier, who are our young people to turn to when they need to confide in someone? Who? Who can we trust anymore?

Written by my feelings,
Terry Shepherd

 

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Prayers Are Answered


Thanksgiving morning, the house was alive. Children running and yelling. Pillow fights, playing Tag, jumping up and over the furniture. Mom in the kitchen and dad hovering over her; telling her how to do this and that, although he didn’t have much practice at anything in the kitchen.
There was a small table with two chairs. The mom of the husband, the children’s grandmother, sat quietly at the table in the corner. Ellie drank her coffee and puffed on her cigarette. She was trying to go back in her own memories of this holiday and was wondering if these days too, were full of chaos.
She put her cigarette out and in a wispy voice asked, “Is there anything I can do to help, either of you?” No one replied. I am not sure if it was due to not being heard, or maybe just being ignored. Ellie cleared her throat and then stood up to her walker.
She was dressed still in her night clothes. She had a faded flannel, floor-length nightie on and an almost two tight faded, pink robe. She gathered the belt tighter as to hide herself and slowly walked towards the sink. “I said, is there anything I can do to help either of you? I’m not really doing anything and maybe I could set the table or get out the glasses.”
“Old lady, you have done enough. You harped and harped at us until we gave in and let you move you and your stuff in. You spend more time in your room smoking or you let our kids get by with shit when you are supposed to be babysitting and setting a good example. You are here for Thanksgiving aren’t you? You didn’t pitch in any money for this fine food we are going to have did you? No, I , no, we don’t need your help. Just go back to what you were doing, which is nothing.”
Ellie turned her head away as she felt the tears begin to fall. Those words cut to the bone. She didn’t want to move in with her family. She never wanted to become a burden to anyone. Tears fell faster as she turned and walked back to her little table. She remembered the days when she was beginning to get weak. She had fallen a few too many times and the ER finally admitted her for a broken hip. She was told in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t going to be allowed to return to her home. She needed a place to go.
Ellie only had two children. One lived in Alaska and the other here in the next city from where Ellie had lived. Her husband had passed away a few years ago from cancer, and although she got lonely; she was doing fine on her own. No one seemed to want her as a permanent live-in, but she did end up here at her son’s home, and she guessed she would have to deal with it until the day she died. She hoped that would be soon.
Each morning before she put her feet on the cold floor, she thanked her God for a roof over her head, food to eat, and another chance at life. She also prayed for God to do something so she wouldn’t be a burden anymore to this family.
Some days she had visitors from her church she used to go to. They would drink coffee and chat about what was going on at the church or fill Ellie in on the town gossip. Although no one said anything, her friends noticed the tears. One time when her closest friend had come to visit, she saw it. It was black and blue, about the size of a fist. It was on her arm. Someone had harmed this woman, this friend of hers. It was probably that mean, old son, who only let her be here so he could spend her money.
Thanksgiving day left and the weather turned pretty cold. Snow fell and the ground was covered in pure white. At nights she stood at her walker, staring out at the snow. The moon making sparkles on the snow-covered tree branches. Sometimes she would hear a car pass, and they made a crunchy noise. She was glad she was inside, but she missed the winter’s crisp air.
It was a couple of weeks that had gone by since she saw her friends. Actually, it was getting real close to Christmas. The phone rang and her son yelled, “It’s for you old lady.” Ellie walked to the hall and picked up the phone. “Hello, this is Ellie.”
“Hello mam, my name is Robert T. Wagonor. I am a friend of your friend Betty. I go to the church sometimes and fill in for the minister. I was wondering if Betty and I could come pay you a visit.” Ellie liked visitors. “Yes, that would be real nice. When will you be coming?”
“At 1, right after lunch. Is this alright with you?”
“Yes, see you then.”
Ellie got herself her lunch and then went in and made herself as presentable as possible. She went out and sat on the couch awaiting her visitors. It wasn’t long before the knock at the door came. Seeing no one was going to let them in, she got up and walked to the door, opening it wide, saying, “Hello, welcome, come on in.” They followed her and waited for Ellie to sit, then sat across from her.
” I would like to get right to the point of our visit. It has come to my attention that this may not be the safest place for you to live. You deserve to be safe and happy. Can you tell me if our thoughts are wrong?” No one said a word. No one shook their head. ” The church has had some meetings and we have talked to people here in town who really care about the well-being of senior citizens. With the help of the city and private donations, we have been able to come up with enough money to pay your rent for the next six months. The place we are talking about is called, A Place Like Home. We want to take you there to visit and see what you think.” Ellie agreed and was helped with her coat, hat, gloves and boots on.
In less than half-an-hour, they were all sitting in a cozy living room. A fire was crackling in the fireplace. There were nice, soft chairs and rockers, a long sofa. There were plants sitting in the window’s light. Soft, lacy curtains covered the windows. It felt like home. Some of her friends from the church were there and Ellie learned they lived here all the time. It was less then four days when all finances were transferred to safer hands. It was less than four days when Ellie was sitting in one of the rockers, not smoking, drinking her tea, laughing with the other ladies. This place was her home. This place was like home. She rested her head back, listening to the others talk, and smiled. Thank-you God for fixing my problem.
Written from my heart,
Terry Shepherd.
God bless our Senior Citizens.

 

Put That Crime in a Box


I live in a city in northern Indiana. I am not sure why I am even stating that fact; as it doesn’t seem to really matter. This happens in about any town that has any politicians involved.

There are crimes, and then there are crimes. Get what I mean? Some of the crimes in my opinions are so petty, and being locked up provides certain luxuries that some senior citizens would give their right arm to receive plus the fact it is taking up valuable space for those crimes more serious, and of course, you know who is footing these  bills of three meals and a shower, right?

I am not able to speak on experience. Crap, I am just a pebble on the beach in our town. No one really knows who I am, and with what happens inside the box, I don’t think I would want to be discovered, so I will just remain one of many pebbles.

What gets my goat though worse than anything is crime. Now if I don’t report any changes within ten days to the government, any or all of my benefits can be ripped away for long periods of time, and maybe permanent too. There could also be a threat of jail time, and like I said, I am a nobody, and I did pay into the system for a time, so of course any benefits I receive, weren’t mine in the beginning, right?

Then there is the ones who have a name, have some money sitting under the  mattress and in the bank, and they commit a crime, and suddenly it is not labeled a crime or the guilty get pushed under a new name, a new category, and BINGO, all charges are forgiven or suspended.

I can’t say the crime. I don’t know if I would get in trouble or a knock at my door, so I will just say, it has been on the news, plastered on the internet, so I have to believe that there was truth in what happened at one point.

All I am trying to point out here is this; if you do the crime, I don’t give a hoot what your last name is or how many bundles you got in the bank, pay the price. You are no better than me or any other pebbles in this world.

People, quit giving the bad guys a break. How about giving a break to those of us older people who are fighting to eat every day, pay our rents and utilities, get rides to the doctors, struggle paying those co-pays. Oh shit, I could go on and on at the unbalance in our world, but hey, I am just that pebble, so who is really listening. Oh well, I feel better just getting this off my chest. I will sleep well tonight, will you?

 

Obviously, people who commit crimes should be punished. Even people who steal socks and ‘Snow White’ videos should probably do time if they have priors, especially serious priors. But the punishment has to fit the crime, and the standard has to be the same for everyone. Matt Taibbi
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/m/matt_taibbi.html

Has Fallen


HAS FALLEN

How sad, one nation
Under God, for liberty
And justice, for ALL
Has fallen.

One marvels at change
Some look in awe
Our country in crumbles
Has fallen.

We have but one God
Who watches and cries
This wasn’t what he wanted
Has fallen.

Murder of innocent
Bombs and rape
Guns running rampant
Has fallen.

One nation, under God
This is who we were
Let’s pray and hold hands
Words heard for the fallen.

Written by,
Terry Shepherd

Photo taken by Terry Shepherd

 

 

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Comfort Zone


Why didn’t she go? Why did she stay and take the abuse? Okay, maybe it wasn’t physical abuse; but isn’t mental and emotional abuse just as bad? Me, myself, I think mental abuse is so much more worse. Pain fades and words remain forever.

Leah couldn’t go. She was forced into a mental trap all her own. She had the right timing presented to her. She could have packed her bags, stored her belongings, and went to a brand new location with a close friend, so why didn’t she?

Comfort Zone; this is why she stayed behind. So you ask, what is a comfort zone?

Comfort zone is described as;

This article is about the psychological meaning. For other uses, see comfort zone (disambiguation).

The comfort zone is a psychological state in which a person feels familiar, at ease, in control and experiences low anxiety and stress. In the zone a steady level of performance is possible.[1]

Bardwick defines the term as “a behavioral state where a person operates in an anxiety-neutral position.”[2] Brown describes it as “Where our uncertainty, scarcity and vulnerability are minimized — where we believe we’ll have access to enough love, food, talent, time, admiration. Where we feel we have some control.

 

Leah was terrified of giving up all she was used to. She knew how to react when she was torn down; naked with his words. She knew how long HE would stay angry. She knew that if things got real bad, there was a police station nearby and she also had her car.

Leah sat many days crying into her pillow, wishing she would have gone, and feeling too much of a coward to make that phone call. What if she did call? Maybe she and her friendship would be ruined by too close quarters.

Maybe she wouldn’t have the money to be able to take care of herself if she didn’t find a job. Sure, her friend had told her over and over; jobs are easy to snag with your experience. Yet, here she sat, alone, lonely, sometimes feeling like a used dish rag.

One day arrived when the sun wasn’t shining. HE had been out too late the evening before. HE had drank too much, stating this is the only way he knew how to unwind. Leah sat at the kitchen table drinking her third cup of coffee, when HE got up to use the bathroom.

The dog began to bark, letting his owner know he was ready to play. After coming out of the bathroom, HE suddenly kicked the dog. The dog yelped. Leah stood up and went to rescue him.

HE didn’t like all the noise. When HE saw Leah coming he let her get close enough and then he punched her, flinging her body up against the wall. Darkness over came her and she went limp to the floor. The dog hid under the bed, and HE went back to his room and slammed the door.

The mailman was knocking on the screen door. He had a signature  paper with him that one of the adults needed to sign. He knocked a couple of times and then heard Leah’s voice. He tried the door latch and it opened.

Upon seeing her, he called the EMS. HE was arrested and Leah was taken to the Emergency room. After being tested she was released, but no one was there to pick her up. She had no one to call.

She sat down on the curb outside the hospital and wept, wishing she had made different choices in her life. It was then that she saw two pennies, heads face up near her. She picked them up and held them tightly in her hands, and she began to pray.

It was less than a half an hour that the mailman stopped back by to check on her. He saw her crying. “What is wrong Miss? Can I do something to help? Are you okay”?

Leah took out a small notebook from her purse. She flipped the pages until she came to the right place. She handed him the page, pointing to the number. He took out his phone and called the number.

(This story, my friends is a fictional story. I wrote this because so many women feel like they can’t make a change because of fear of leaving their comfort zone. If you recognize yourself in this, you are not alone. If you feel all alone, you are not. Make a call, call a friend, a minister, family, or police. There is help.)

Oh, you ask what happened to Leah? The number that was dialed was her best friend. She is now living happily with her friend in a location miles from her old home, doing very well at her new job.

 

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The Victim


THE VICTIM
 
He was the misfit boy
Never spending time
No one being kind
Didn’t stay in line.
 
Ignored by most
Parents didn’t care
Going everywhere
A life he didn’t share.
 
One day he couldn’t resist
He screamed and threw a fit
He scared those around a bit
It seemed like he was lit.
 
A bad cop took notice
He took out his knife
He tased the man twice
Bullets took the victim’s life.
 
Written by,
Terry Shephed
07/07/2016
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