A local doctor stole babies from birth mothers, telling them that their children had died. And one case in particular… It took decades for DNA to reveal the story. That happened here in Northwest Arkansas. One of my ideas for a Netflix documentary would be to contact the families of every mother, especially single mothers, who gave birth during a specific time period to perform DNA tests and compare them nationally.
Handsome, charismatic men who portray themselves as humble Christian husbands. Yet engage in a cycle of highly sexual affairs. (A story so common it is literally copy and paste.) Another one with a conservative political career who used his position at his work to take advantage of women. There’s a reason so many sexual harassment complaints arise in the workplace. It has built-in inequality that largely negates people speaking up and setting things right.
More than one doctor who openly had mistresses but yet were considered pillars of the community. Who had children with those mistresses.
People I knew who experienced a wild array of trauma. Everything you can imagine. Even though I had my own mostly unknown traumas, some of these people went through much, much worse than I did.
A dentist who preyed on women. Money can lighten any stain or accusation. Rarely do people choose victims whom they consider their equals.
Cops took advantage of people monetarily or sexually. Some used their positions to ruin their victims instead of admitting what they had done.
Coaches who bullied young kids. Or worse.
Teachers who are inappropriate with their students.
Church leaders behaving inappropriately.
A multitude of lawyer stories. Except they are armed and knowledgeable regarding the process of eluding accountability. Mostly. I’ve told the story many times, but one of them went to prison for fixing cases. My parents were among those who benefited from the arrangement.
Last year I had a bad feeling about someone who owned a plumbing company. I used my skills and uncovered a trail of female victims. One leading me across the country.
I had a similar feeling about a neighbor. He turned out to be a previously convicted sexual predator, along with a nice jacket full of criminal offenses.
All of these things have shadows around them.
Most people are good people.
But one thing you have to understand is that your experience with a particular person does not mean they didn’t have a dark side.
Especially upon their passing, if you lionize them, you have to be willing to listen to anyone who has a contrary opinion or experience with them.
It is in darkness and secrecy that people can be duplicitous and lead secret lives out of sight from observers. At least observers who will speak up.
The above examples are stories I know from here in Northwest Arkansas.
When I got involved in learning about the doctor who was stealing babies, I was expecting a reasonable explanation. Instead, I had to sit in the knowledge that someone was capable of ruining a mother’s life in that way. There was no doubt that he had done it to multiple women.
It’s human nature to avoid accountability, just as it’s also our nature to get mad when someone tries to tarnish a family member or someone we admire. Even a cursory look at Mother Theresa and her charity reveals many detestable secrets.
People have different faces for each aspect of their life.
I don’t have a nice bow with which to tie this post up.
There are certainly false accusers.
But there are also victims or people who know the truth about someone.
Each of these people has the right to tell their truth and story.
History and familiarity with people have repeatedly and demonstrably proven that truth is stranger than fiction.
I have several examples from my life in which the truth didn’t come to light for decades. In one, I found the gift of a beautiful and intelligent sister concealed from me. In another, I found proof of the final crime that sent my dad to prison in Indiana in the 60s.
I l-o-v-e hearing words mispronounced. It is usually a sign that someone has learned a word from reading it. I devised this couplet to remind people to encourage language and vocabulary instead of mocking it. English “rules” are arbitrary and devised with no rhyme or reason. We owe it to the stupidity of our language to mess with every aspect of it. Think about the magic of language. We translate little squiggles into ideas in our heads. And then we argue how the imaginary and arbitrary symbols are supposed to look or sound. As I age, my tolerance for supercilious and snarky attitudes has plummeted. Say it wrong. Spell it wrong. This language belongs to all of us. All the rules we claim will one day be meaningless. Since I speak and read more than one language, I am comfortable and fearless in navigating all the errors I make when communicating. Most people are nervous when speaking or writing. There’s no reason to be. No matter how careful you are, you’ll sound or seem a bit ignorant to someone, somewhere. You have permission to break the language. If you run into someone who is a bit of a wet blanket about your right to do so, look them in the eye and say, “I’d like an eXpresso.” And prance away.
Yesterday, I unintentionally scared the hell out of a pedestrian in a crosswalk. I was doing taxi service around 4:00, coming up the dreaded hill on Appleby. It bothered me today. She was obviously physically fit because she instinctively employed a combination of a windmill defense and a double time step inspired by bad ’80s music. What she didn’t know were two things. First, it was exactly at that point several years ago I was rear-ended and it totaled my car, after I had experienced the worst couple of weeks of my life. Second, yesterday a car behind me had been engaging in aggressive driving. After I made the right turn onto Appleby, I had foolishly hoped that he focused his attention on his next cave drawing. Instead, he had accelerated much too quickly behind me after making the same turn. There is no way he would have avoided hitting me if I hadn’t gassed my little vehicle very quickly. I made a turn with a wider arc to give myself just enough space to avoid the idiot behind me as well as not scaring the pedestrian. But I hadn’t accounted for her instinctive reaction. The cretin behind me sped up the hill on his way to whatever nonsense such people get involved in. All the pedestrian saw out of the corner of her eye was a little blue cloud of a car apparently heading toward her. I tried to wave an apology profusely but she was already making her way across the crosswalk shaking her head in disgust. Today it was back to normal and instead of worrying about somebody hitting me from behind I kept an eye on the vehicles coming down the hill at 70 mph. I wish I could apologize to the woman. And also congratulate her on both her dance moves and physical agility. X
Güino is 16 now. He may look scruffy, but I brushed him 5 minutes and then petted him until I got carpal tunnel syndrome. I think he’s planning on having a rough day. He’s learning Excel. X .
Before the storm rolled in, I paused on the landing outside my apartment. Below me, I listened to a downstairs neighbor animatedly talk on his phone. Along the fence, another neighbor walked his adorable little dogs. From another apartment came the melody of a beautiful song I hadn’t heard in a while. I love the moments when the universe isn’t looking at me at all. But it certainly seems as it is. The piano of the song and the melodic voice combined to freeze time for a few seconds. I think I dreamed of the melody because I woke up with it in my head. I repeated my presence on the landing. This time watching the shutter lightning off in the distance and listenimg to the rain dripping from the dilapidated gutters. At 2:00 in the morning, I could still hear neighbors burning the midnight oil. Though there was no melody emanating from any of the apartments, I still heard it in my head and felt it in my bones. X .
I just had an awesome interaction at the inconvenience store. There was a gentleman there talking to the clerk. I’ve seen him before. He turned to me and said he really liked my purple glasses. I just so happened to be wearing my purple-themed dashiki shirt as well. He said his wife would really like the glasses and that color. Without missing a beat, I took them off and offered to give them to him. He initially was very reluctant. But then he said he would love the color himself. So I took them off again and told him that I insisted. The clerk knows me and knew that I wasn’t offering them out of politeness. Because he had told me that he loved the color, I wanted him to have them. He wiped them off and put them on and then mugged for me and the clerk. He asked me, who gives away their glasses like that? He was smiling and laughing. We traded jokes about what his wife might think, especially if she saw them on the nightstand and assumed they were another woman’s glasses. He asked if he could have a picture with me, so I leaned in and smiled as he took our picture. The clerk watched and laughed. We stood there talking for a couple of more minutes. I told him the magnifications and where to get them without spending a fortune. He hadn’t realized that he was wearing the wrong magnification before. He was shocked that he realized that the pair I gave him would allow him to drive with them on as well. When I went to my car, I got my almost neon green ones and put them on. I went back inside so he could see that I did, in fact, have multiple colors. We all laughed again. At his age, it never had occurred to him that he might enjoy such a novelty color of purple glasses. But he certainly got a kick out of the pair I gave him. I might not be telling the story well, but it was a nice way to start my afternoon. Even laughing with strangers and bearing unexpected gifts. Love, X
PS That’s me earlier in the picture. Since it’s April Fool’s Day, I alternated the Band-Aid on my forehead about every hour to see who might notice. And gave various explanations as to why I needed the Band-Air in the first place. You gotta keep’em guessing.
Erika gave me two window bird feeders. I have a few birds who are loyal. Most of them congregate at her apartment. I looked over a few minutes ago and realized that a bird had been sitting in there gorging itself. Both feeders are in complete view of the cat tower. My cat Güino was too busy at the back window listening to a hundred birds sing and fly past. X .