My Mama's Mustache & Other Inherited Stuff  

I did not write MY memoir to expose my family.
I wrote it because there was so much pain in the family and yes I was concerned for both predator and victim, as I knew the sad past of the predators.
So thinking the family would see that I was "one of them" and meant no harm to any individual, I laid out an outline of my life, a true story, but mine nonetheless. My hope, and my four sister's hopes, those who stood with me, was that the family could shed the past as I had, rally together in love and reality, and heal.

I have been called mean-spirited, delusional, cruel, selfish, grandiose, and all but tarred and feathered. I understand tarring is a painful event as opposed to the joke television made of it, but I doubt the family could have hurt me more than they did in their own underhanded, behind the back, and slight of hand maligning. Hate was their fuel.

So what I deserve for good intentions gone wrong is probably some sort of rebuke, perhaps even a firm one. However, it was the guilt of the guilty, the fear of the coward, and the haughty pride of the family system which "outed" the villains. I knew they would, like criminals in a detective movie, obsessed with their guilt, they end up telling on themselves. I had no intention of telling, I just wanted them to stop.

Today my intention is changed. That part of the family matters not to me. Well, they have chosen to destroy me rather than make peace, and hey, do I really want to go another round?

No. There is nothing left to fight for. I gained four beautiful sisters out of the 9 remaining and I am grateful to at last have family.

Once I am away from NY State my thinking will begin to clear some. And I will continue to speak out for change, after all, I learned long ago that I am the only person who could change me, and I will continue to speak out against incest and sexual assault. If it seems too cruel to the molesters in my family, or those who continue to protect them, I remind myself of the cruelty of bringing false charges against me, lying to discredit me, bringing pain and tears to my sister's faces, and destroying the great start I had on a business which had nothing to do with them or their sins, and preventing me from my livelihood and returning to my children and grandchildren by October which is the goal i set back in June.

Some people might say it doesn't pay to care too much. Oh, wait, that was me that said that. I was wrong. I am paid heartily in love from hearts that know love. There is no finer payment that can be gained.

I expect to return to my broadcasting the last Monday of November. In fact to that end i will schedule it today.

It's all about changing me still, but oh what experience, strength, and hope we can share with each other.

Is this good news? Come back and discover!

The saga continues here with incest family members attacking, infiltrating, donning sheep's clothing to get the job accomplished.

They say I began the war, but my 100,000+/- bird and flower pictures would dispute that. I was busy checking the lawn, bushes, trees, garden, for new birds, old birds with new expressions, birds with character, birds of color, size, intelligence, and funny birds. Oh, and birds badgering, singing, chattering, staring at me, screaming at me, flying away, flying in.

My new book was to be the closing chapter on my past, a book of lessons learned, upbeat quotes and birds, birds, birds from my healing place, Albion, Orleans County, NY at my sister's house where together we thrilled to each new discovery of the bird-life in her own backyard.

But incest family system's cannot, as in, are not able to, trust.  So the war returned and a summer of pain and confusion, stress and fear entered Albion, NY and my sister and I, along with three other "heretics" struggled to understand so much cruelty pitted against one young sister, me, just to "save" our long ago dishonored family name.

You see, when I spoke in our old hometown of Brocton, NY, one woman was forthcoming with the news that the little town in general knew there were things "happening in our house at 151 Lake Avenue. Back then "it was family business and remained that way.

It still seems to be family business in that the old ways are still intact and disloyal people like myself must and shall be destroyed, run off, silenced, discredited.

But I was molested by 3 of my brothers my eldest nephew, and at last, my father. Now they want to re-victimize me for surviving, recovering, and moving on to live and create, and enjoy the joy and beauty in the world?

As I speak the evil is infiltrating the house I wrote both of my books in, and my sister will take further abuse as they try to win her back to "right thinking" but she knows I had moved on from the old family crap. She knows me, but she has been silent so long, how will she handle it?

Personally, I do not care how, only that she is able to preserve the love and light in herself. She need not go to great lengths to clear my name or defend me. They have used her own children to drive me out of her home, they used legal means fraught with lies, slander, and fear and they sent the law into her living room.

The rest of the family will never feel the joy, the love, the insight and strength of this woman, my sister, because they will not see outside their little box. They will not know her, only that they must rescue her from the wrong thinking I brainwashed her with, you know, like little girls should not be followed around campgrounds by lecherous old men who whine when they are found out. And that, brother or not, no man ought be protected from his own consequences by sacrificing his victims.

My sister who will now face the further disrespect of family members filling her head with what she ought to think, how she ought to feel, and whom it is safe to associate with, has a history of being the leaning post the good and the bad alike looked to for kindness. She has no evil in her to hurt anyone.

But I am not afraid for her. I know her strength and I know that though she has not yet found a voice as persistent as mine, she has found a voice. It is often a whisper, sometimes a raucous laugh at the insanity of what the family has done. At times it is silent, but then, are we not all silent at times?

I will not quit, and a large part of the reason is her and the other three sisters who have stood by me with every strength, love, and courage they could muster.

They are the heroes. I am just loud and determined, and now very angry at the anguish this family system caused with their "right" thinking.

But the people behind the scenes are the real heroes for me. They believed in me and mustered the courage to stand against the family the best they knew how.

Incest and sexual assault are a plague in America. One person cannot do a lot, but I will do all I can until I cannot do more.

Needless to say folks, I have been off in never-never land where heretics like me get chased off to, better than being burned at the stake though.

I do not know if I will make it this Monday, or next.

I am transitioning via the dictates of the family mob. My intention was always to get to Carolina by fall, so the transition is partially a blessing. However, I believed I would have my business on track and my new book finished by September, and the great powers that be, the DeGolier Family of which I once claimed allegiance above God and country and kept silent to protect, have taken every opportunity to slander, malign, and in short, cut me off at the knees, and i will take up the mission from the sunny blue skies of Carolina.

I will incorporate my two shows into one, at this url, the first portionstill focused on changing me (provided the family leaves any of me left intact to change, and the second half will focus on incest/sexual assault/ incest family systems/etc.

I will not quit. Yes I believe each of us needs to look inside for changes, we cannot change other people, but I can sure express my experience, with other peoples agenda.

I understand the incest family system's need to silence me. I accept they can tread no other road but it is a hard road, and the road will end in the darkness of their own fear, guilt, and shame.

In the final week of September they reveled in a major triumph against my sisters and I. After several months of tunneling in, around, and under the roots of strong bonds between a handful of us sisters, like great juicy earthworms aerating the soil under a flowerbed but leaving gaping black holes of fetid air and rotted sludge from their dead souls, a "moral majority" of the family I was born to as the youngest of twenty, ousted me, they thought, bodily from their lives.

Since then I have tottered and teetered and careened about like a little Weeble wobbling, but I won't fall down figure. Mostly I have careened into self, examining and re-examining my life, motives, choices, wishes, responsibility, and in the end, the reality of my situation.

The fight to destroy me ultimately destroyed, or at least broke down, one sister particularly dear to me, a woman who was always there for everyone, and gave love and solace to the best and the worst of us. The bond between us traveled a dark path from an indestructible pipeline to a thread of spun sugar shattering in mid air.

The family did not count on one major element. Love enduring, outlasting, out maneuvering, and outdistancing every evil thrown among us.

Love, the kind where one person has the other person's best interests at heart and wants for that person what that person wants, and not what a person "thinks" the other person wants.

Example: The day I was ousted bodily from my sister's house it was:

1. Done out of "love" that says "I know what is best for you."
2. It was accomplished inevitably by me, who was overwhelmed by the mistaken belief that my sister wanted me to leave.

The incest family system won a battle, nothing more, by pitting us against each other in subtle, unobtrusive methods in the guise of "love."

But love is what brings me back to my reality, my responsibility, and my voice here. Love is what has revamped the bonds between my sisters and I. Love will endure as will truth, hope, kindness, compassion, trust.

For six weeks I have struggled and lost, struggled and lost, and struggled and lost, because the family system did not simply cause my world to shiver and shake like the towers of Babel. It was not simply a matter of relocating, rebuilding my office in a terribly inconvenient place in order to get on with my work, my business and my life. They stole my sister, though temporarily, from me. They ripped a piece of her heart out by pitting her children against her, in the guise of love, and they ripped a piece of my heart out using my sister who was not strong enough to continue to fight her children.

And what pray tell did they use to frighten her children? The visual of their mother in danger from me.
The visual of my sister waking up one morning and finding me dead from suicide in my room.
A visual of me tearing through my sister's house constantly yelling at her and throwing things and slamming doors.
The false idea that I was penniless and was sponging off their mother and stripping her of her retirement and happiness.

My sister withstood the barrage as long as she could, making every effort to hold the world at bay so I could continue to work in peace to build the career, business, write my book, to the end that i would, by October, return south to my children and grandchildren.

But an incest family system driven by fear, guilt, shame, and aversion to all truth, turned her home into a battleground, tension flying through every crevice, and social services at the door investigating a claim of elder abuse.

The abusers were the ones who sent the investigator around.

But yesterday my sister came to where I am presently, and my sister 1, my sister 2, and I jumped the barrier strung between us. Though the rebuilding of our bonds began strangely enough on the very day in September that the family divided us, yesterday was a true layering of a new, stronger foundation. It is based on love and hope. And that, dear friends is what the incest family system cannot eradicate, nor comprehend.

Recently three of the people responsible for this horrid undertaking had a meeting of the minds. Two have hated the third for most of their lives, one hates another and has no use or respect for the other, and thus it goes, enemies with a clear vision of me, the greatest enemy to all honorable family members which for the moment precludes any former rivalry and/or disgust they feel for each other.

I wonder what they will do when they remember they cannot stand the sight or company of each other?

By the way, I am the enemy, not because of what I did, but because of what they fear I will reveal about our incest family system, which I am now revealing with far less pangs of conscience than I ever believed possible of me.
I am the enemy because I survived.
Remembered.
Recovered.
Returned.
Reached out.
Reached in.
I am ultimately the enemy because I was the victim of incest who found her voice.
 

I talk about life, the good, the bad, the funny and sad.