The RAnts of RA

I don’t even like to think about those days, but I’m willing to share my story if it helps save even one person from the agony I endured.  My late husband and I dreamed of having a farm.  You know, a little piece of earth that we could pass along to the kids and they could always call home.

Davis-Besse Nuclear Power Station

The trouble is, we were flat broke.  No, we were less than flat broke.  Dave was working at a winding shop, he was learning to be a motor winder and he really enjoyed it.  The trouble is it only paid $4.35 an hour, not much.  Not only that but he was paying court-ordered child support of $125.00/mo, so basically he was working to support his children and I was supporting us.

Nevertheless, I knew that if we worked hard and saved our money we could still make it happen.  On the weekends, we couldn’t really afford to do anything, so we would drive around the countryside and talk about our dreams.  We wanted a big house and a yard for the kids to play in.

Motor Winding

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53OA2pUeNq8

One day we found this house, sitting in the middle of a field, empty.  It was pretty big, it had a barn that was made from real logs split in two.  They were massive. We walked around the place. There were no doors, so we went inside, to have a look around.  It was pretty bad — all 32 panes of glass were broken, there was no bathroom, no kitchen, the furnace was about 75 years old.  We didn’t know if it would ever work.

We drove out a couple more times, located the owners and bought the place, with nothing down.

We were on top on the world, and Styrofoam.

We decided to move in right away, so we could start working on it right away.  So, once it had doors and windows (HEAP did it all for free, including insulation.  What a blessing.), we moved in.  We took turns at night stoking the fire, we slept on Styrofoam mats in front of the wood burner.  We ran an electrically cord from the barn to the house. For some strange reason there was power to the barn but not the house.

Our Farm

Tomatoes – still green.

The farm was located outside Toledo, Ohio on the edge of the safety zone for Davis-Besse  Nuclear  Power Plant, so we often had really loud sirens going off.  I could see those towers like they were sitting right in my own backyard.  The farm was surrounded by crops as far as the eye could see.  Life was hard there. I was constantly boiling water on a little two burner stove for baths and cooking.  A neighbor gave us a tub and we converted a closet into a bathroom. We didn’t care that there was a window in it.  We just hung a curtain over it, or in our case a towel.

I’ll never forget our second Thanksgiving in the house.  We had a bunch of people coming and  it was our first big dinner in the house. Dave was supposed to have the hot water hooked up before then.  He finally got it hooked up and installed as people were pulling in the driveway.  It was a Happy Thanksgiving!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDfVBXcQiGY

Raising Animals

We planted a garden and  raised a few pigs — 25 at the peak of things, 300 chickens each year, a couple ducks, a couple lambs, turkeys,  pheasants, a goat and of course the dogs and cats. (We didn’t eat the dogs and cats, but everything else was fair game.)    Things were good, or so we thought.

We had been there a few years without any trouble. The corn fields were a little trouble, because in the fall, when the fields were cut, the mice would come out of the woodwork.  We had a good mouser which  we bought in the house for just such occasions.    I remember the first year they planted soybeans.  I thought it was nice because we could actually see across the fields  whereas the corn was too tall to see over, in the fall.

Then came the crop dusters, and half our garden died.  We managed to save most of the tomatoes and broccoli but the corn: complete  disaster.  That night I broke out in hives, I was  itching  and my lips swelled, my face swelled, my hands swelled.  I was taken to the hospital, put on Prednisone and sent home.

Prednisone – the worst drug on earth!

Prednisone: The Double-Edged Sword

I would break out a few days after I quit taking the Prednisone, which would mean another trip to the hospital. It was a  vicious  cycle.  Then I had an allergic reaction to the Prednisone and that started my prescription days.  I was taking so many medications I often didn’t even know what day it was.

I was sick  every day  after that.  I ballooned up to 270 pounds from my normal weight of 135. I could hardly breath, and could barely walk.  We didn’t even give a thought to the spray when we picked our vegetables.  I think that was the year  all my tomatoes were big, juicy,  gorgeous  and GREEN.  We had to pick them or lose them, so we picked them.

I thought, “oh, good Lord we’re going to have fried green tomatoes until the cows come home.”  Fortunately, that was not the case.  I washed each  tomato, adding about 1/2 teaspoon of bleach to a sink of water, rinsed and  dried  them well.  Then I put them back in the basket.  The  tomatoes  on the top, exposed to the air would turn red.  We had fresh tomatoes until February that year.

Drastic Changes Were Needed

If I hadn’t made some drastic changes around that same time there is no doubt in my mind that I would be dead.  I couldn’t walk, I could hard breath, I was so out of breath all the time.  I could not live my life surrounded by soybeans.  I’ll always wonder if the people we bought the house from knew there was a problem and sold the house anyways.  I guess I’ll never know.

Dave had a heart attack, it was there we found out that the headaches he was having was due to aspartame.  At that time, we was drinking three our four 2-liters a day.  He would get terrible headaches.

I was taking Vioxx for my arthritis and had told my doctor about my  heart palpitations before they discovered any problems.  I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, so I quit taking them. A year later they were pulled off the market, people were dying.

I took my health into my  own hands, but it took me ten long years of suffering and pain to recover.  Today, I live in the mountains  and I no longer see the doctors. I care for myself and treat myself with food and things from nature.  Do I live a healthy lifestyle? No, not on your life! But I know how to feel better when I hurt myself.  I avoid GMO when I can and I’m just happy to live my life, surrounded by friends and family and the people I care about.

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“FATHERLESS AMERICA” IS

The problem in American is not the “gun culture”. It’s the fatherless culture, says New York Times best-selling Larry Elder, the author of the just released “Dear Father, Dear Son.”

Larry Elder

Appearing on WVON in Chicago, Elder said, “As tragic and horrific the Connecticut shooting was, the face of gun violence in America is not Sandy Hook. It is Chicago. It is Philadelphia. It is Newark. Most murders and murder victims are black–and live in urban areas.”

In Chicago, there were 500 murders, the majority in black neighborhoods and the majority of that was gang-related.

In 1965, 25% of black children were born to unwed mothers. Today the number is nearly 70%, with 50% of Hispanics children and 25% of children born outside of wedlock.

Studies have long established the relationship between homes without an involved father with higher drop out rates, unwed parenthood, welfare dependency, drug abuse–and crime.

Jesse Jackson, Louis Farrakhan, and Al Sharpton all had issues with their fathers.

In Jackson’s case, his teen-age mother got pregnant by the married man next door. As a child, Jackson was taunted, “Jesse ain’t got no Daddy. Jess ain’t got no Daddy.”

In Farrakhan’s case, his mother was estranged from her husband. She had a boyfriend, but had sex with her estranged husband. She got pregnant and did not want the boyfriend to find out. She attempted a self-abortion with a coat-hanger.

In Sharpton’s case, his family led a comfortable middle-class lifestyle, until his father abandoned the family. At that point Sharpton’s family fought poverty.

All three should know first hand what Barbara Bush said is true, “What happens in your house is more important than what happens in the White House.”

Does the pain of growing up without fathers make them see the world though the lens of a victim? Dos their relationship with their fathers explain why they act as if America remains as racist as it was before the modern civil rights movement? They they want–even require– an “enemy”?

Rev. Jesse Jackson speaks From the headquarters of Operation PUSH, United to Save Humanity annual convention. Chicago, July 1973.

Stunning … a wonderful read … a page-turner … a handbook for life.” Those words of advance praise from another celebrated author scarcely convey just how powerfully mesmerizing is the latest book by New York Times best-selling author and nationally syndicated radio talk show host Larry Elder.

Released by WND Books,”Dear Father, Dear Son” is a personal memoir of Elder’s troubled – one might even say tortured – relationship with his father, and the astonishing outcome that develops when Elder, at long last, confronts him.

Says Elder: “A man’s relationship with his father – every boy, every man lucky enough to have a father in his life has to figure that out. My own father? I thought I knew him – even though he seldom talked about himself. And what I knew I hated – really, really hated. Cold, ill-tempered, thin-skinned, my father always seemed on the brink of erupting. Scared to death of him, I kept telling myself to find the courage to ‘stand up to him.’ When I was fifteen, I did.” After that, said Elder, “We did not speak to each other for ten years.”

“And then we did – for eight hours.”

The result can’t be described. It has to be experienced.

As reflected in the book’s subtitle – “Two Lives … Eight Hours” – one extraordinary, all-day conversation between Elder and his long-estranged father utterly transformed their relationship. It is no exaggeration to say the book will likewise transform readers. “Dear Father, Dear Son” is the story of one man discovering a son he never really knew. And of the son finding a man, a friend, a father who had really been there all along.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Larry Elder is a best-selling author and radio talk-show host. His latest book is “Dear Father, Dear Son: Two Lives … Eight Hours.” Larry Elder, a “firebrand libertarian” according to “Daily Variety,” has been the subject of profiles by both CBS’ “60 Minutes” and ABC’s “20/20.” His previous best-selling books – “The 10 Things You Can’t Say in America,” “Showdown: Confronting Bias, Lies and the Special Interests That Divide America” and “What’s Race Got to Do with It? Why It’s Time to Stop the Stupidest Argument in America” – all have met with critical acclaim.

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We’ve seen a huge increase in school shootings, murders and violence… and it’s only going to get worse.  We have an addiction problem in this country and until it is addressed and we get children and adults off these medications, it’s only a matter of time before the next massacre.

I know that when I was taking prednisone, I became very  paranoid and  suspicious of everyone. I ended up trying to tackle my husband from behind. It was very bizarre. What made me angry was that I had asked the doctor directly about side effects.  He told me there weren’t any — that it was totally safe.

Nothing could be further from the truth!    All drugs are dangerous. Educate yourself and tell those you love.

Heck, I can remember students bring guns to school for show and tell during hunting season.  No one freaked out. It’s hard to believe how much things have changed and the harm we are doing to our children.

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