Saturday, March 3, 2012

"Cookies In Her Pocket" ( A Custody Case)


Ready for a true story that reads like soap fiction, processes the mind like idiocy, and puts human trust on an animal level?  Let’s just say, that’s an understated question. I don’t know. You be the judge.
Twenty five years ago, a young woman turned her life around so that she could have a good husband and build a family. She’s not unlike many of us. Not perfect. Chose partners and husbands for the wrong, but traditional reasons.  The first time,  she married so young to someone whom she trusted and it turned out that he was not who she thought he was. Not the knight in shining armor, much less a paternal possibility.  After all, Angela  came from a happy family of 10 children, and, though knew the benefits of a large family, was one of the babies, and desired to extend the blessings of having one of her own. They tried, but motherhood was not selective for her as she had several miscarriages. The marriage failed.
Radically, she chose the military for a few years, hopeful of getting a good education and a job. As a career, it wasn’t for her. Time went on.  She tried again at marriage with one she truly loved and wanted children with.  But after 9 years, and numerous miscarriages, she was heartsick that she was also in the center of her husband’s bizarre maze of bi-polar. With , still, no children, she didn’t want another aimless path.  Her husband left and never returned.
Angela tried nursing school, and worked with Home Healthcare. It was hard, and didn‘t seem right for her. Also, she decided to drop the idea of searching for Mr. right and having children for awhile by pursuing a degree in social work. A decision she’s never regretted.   As an ironic plus, she counsels children in the school corporation, which has proven to contribute to her moral and steadfast profile. But time was marching across her biological time clock and she became involved with Palmer,  a graduate school educator and thought this was really it. He seemed to want the same things, most of all, children. They moved in together and seemed to do all right for about 3 years.  She, on the other hand didn’t think about what was about to happen. She couldn’t imagine that what seemed like a miracle for her becoming a potential wife as well as a mother by proxy would turn out to be a nightmare locked in Pandora’s box.
Stung by the grief of unsuccessful marriage, she took a chance with this man and signed a contract with a surrogate mother. In spite of Angela’s infertility, Palmer seemed willing to contribute with his own sperm with the selective carrier to have the baby they would both enjoy. Simultaneously, Angela had to formally adopt with the father so that the child had definite parents.  But on the first day home after the birthing,  Angela got the shock of her life. Palmer verbally abused her, saying that she was nothing to him and in obscene language, told her to get out. All she could think was,  Oh, no. this can’t be not another one with mental illness…surely not!  And it continued. Angela took the brow beating for as long as she could but considering that she wanted to raise a child in a happy, healthy environment, she took  their daughter, Scarlett, and moved into a nice home.
Of course, the law stepped in. And so did chaos. Briefly, let’s just say that the father got his way, pulled the child away from her mother and has custody by using his power in the system to discredit and shamelessly slander Angela in tedious, invalid ways. In the meantime, she senses Palmer‘s reason for secluding the child, hardly ever taking her anywhere or allowing more visits with Angela. When Scarlett stays with her, she observes signs of probable neglect.  She isn‘t always properly dressed for the seasons, (doesn’t have a coat at her father’s home) has seen odd physical reenactments that suggest possible sexual violation. Things she is trained to recognize.  (Her attorneys advised that the alleged implications would be short lived, but to legally hang in there.) He plays mental games with her all the time while not allowing her more than eight visits a month.  Eight visits! I know there are always two sides to a story, and there are reasons for everything. But now that I know both sides and had the information confirmed from other sources, I’ve discerned this to be so pathetic and immoral, that I needed to share it with you readers!
Here’s the update: Angela’s had two attorneys who decisively dropped her case just because in this particular area of the country, lawmen stick together and, due to Palmer’s social influence and power,  don’t want to rock the boat. She is seeking favorable advocacy, but it is dragging along. She is virtuously waiting it out just so that she is not separated from her daughter completely, praying for someone to take the case before it is too late for the one who had nothing to do with the parents mistakes or father‘s neglect!
How can this happen? Where is there a judge who can rectify that leaving cookies or candy in the bottom of her coat pockets suggest the mother is unfit? Or a blue tongue from breakfast yogurt implying non-nutritive foods, such as cotton candy? (Are you saying ‘huh’ yet?)  That just because she is not in communion with the father and questions his peculiar allotments to see their daughter, it indicates deteriorating mental health on her point? There are more things, but I’m too embarrassed to list them and not vindictive enough to carry on.
Who IS out there who is willing to expose the scenario that epidemically places children in a sick environment while their innocence is being pilfered? Anyone locally?  Internationally? Okay, okay- Dr. Phil? Oprah? Are you there, friend? Can you sleep knowing this? Say no, and comment. Please and thank you.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Cruelty Begins The New Year for One Family

A family of 5-a mother, father, two natural children and one godchild, are forced to move out of the same house for the second time in the dead of freezing temperatures as we speak. The father’s mother of this family is coping with cancer and their godchild’s mother threatened to take the child away if he and his wife did not permanently keep the child. How could this happen? What else could go wrong?

The family was renting a home on the south side of town for about 2 years. The landlord sold the home so that he did not have to pay taxes on it. The new owner charged the residents with the taxes which they could not afford and which caused them to move out and choose a house in a lower quality neighborhood. He went ahead and paid the taxes, but decided that since they liked the house so much and improved the interior , he would allow them to move back in and verbally contracted
them to pay for the home in partial payments to insure their ownership. Delighted to have the house again, they moved back within a few months in hopes to proceed with the buying. However, there’s been a change of mind by the landlord. He is not only reneging on his original agreement of partial payments, he increased the price of the home. The buyers were terribly upset and tried talking to the owner about their original plan and even told them they would have had to go to their church to help with the taxes if they were expected. He had the nerve to suggeset that could ask them for the money for the home as well. Huh?

A caring neighbor told the family that he thinks he knows why. Another woman down the street has expressed to buy the home right away. Shocked and confused, this hardshipped couple sought legal counsel and were advised that due to the depraved way things were being handled, to go ahead and move out.

Could a person be this covetous that he could put a hardworking family out again and really expect to sleep nights? Insult to injury, the owner is digging up old law offense records of the father( not legally relative) in order to validate his reasons. I call this a case of slander, and scrooging cruelty. What do YOU think?

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Dots that Connect To the Future- My Culinary Prophecy

When I was only 9 years old, I created something that would follow me many years later though at the time it did not click. I made a space in our clothes closet and stacked two small empty drawers on top of a small table. It looked like a small china cabinet. Then on the small table, there was an aluminum pan that resembed a sink.


I loved taking my tea set, plates, and other miniature things which I arranged on the tiny china cabinet, and pretend I was washing them. I remember that the wooden floor under me was warm due to the length of time I spent in that tiny home manufactured kitchen.


Jumping forward to literature class when I was 15, we were asked to create a pseudonym that we could use to author our short stories and poems. I chose "CookieZeal". The first name was reflecting a playful and childlike name. The last had to reflect how I would like to be known. I chose "Zeal", as the virtue attracted me as enthusiastic, energized, and even flambouyant.


It took me an extra 40 years to realize this. Yes. When I was 55, and enjoying the artistic approach to cooking, I realized why I was inspired to choose that name. I have practiced on cooking, smoking meats and barbequing, wonderful foods that required time and study by trial and error, which fulfilled the cooking portion. I also have spent more time in the kitchen than anywhere, including my study while writing, because of all the dishes I've washed.


How do I pull this together as a big picture?


The closet symbolized the cacoon of my future travel. Burreling in this infantile sac, I was unknowingly rehearsing my adulthood with all the premature versions of cooking.

The pen name venture was what I thought could be used for authorship, being a young writer of the 60's with little or no mentoring on how to become published by my real name.

Being introduced to the internet, I thought it be just as well to cloak under that name as well. I did not want to be an imposter, but I was being precocious of my identity.


The dots connect again, when in these later years, I not only am collecting social security, but my spiritual awareness is showing me that God had a pick in this whole marauding of identity.