Today’s topic at hand – Tebow vs. The Catholic Church

Now, for those of you who follow the Tao of Tim – don’t get your blood pressure up.  I am not chastising the young man for dropping to a knee and giving thanks.  I am not trying to trivialize a young man of faith.  What I AM trying to do is look past this new phenomenon of “Tebowing” to understand the doctrine in which he was raised and to understand whether his father’s supposed dislike of Catholics spills over to his offspring.

Recently I removed a picture from my Facebook page that turned into a bit of a controversy.  It was of Tim, on a knee and the caption read something along the lines of thank you for trivializing real needs by praying for touchdowns.  The response was quick and loud.  It was explained to me that I was  in the wrong for putting that up because all this young man was doing was showing his faith, being a role model to younger generations.  I heard of his many good deeds both here and abroad.  (Of course there were actual football fans, not religious readers who chimed in with their love-hate of the young man).  It was polarizing – it was loud – it was interesting.  But, because it was getting heated, I removed the picture from my page.  The last thing I wanted was a feud among friends (most of which have never met in person).  Later that evening I was on the phone with my friend Dan when he informed me that Tebow’s ministries abroad were focused on “my people”.  You know, the Catholics.  That his father’s ministries were in the Philippines where the VAST majority of the population is Catholic.

So I have been reading up on the Bob Tebow Evangelistic Association.  The mission is located in the Philippines which is a country in Southeast Asia located in the western Pacific Ocean.  Their population tallies close to 94 million and (according to Wikipedia) is the 12th most populous country in the world.  Depending on where you pull your numbers, 25% of the population falls below what is considered the poverty level.  Another amazing statistic is as of 2005, it is the third largest “Catholic” nation in the world.  (Note: For the purposes of this blog – and in the vast majority of conversations that go on around the world – Christianity is the grouping of all Christ-followed religions.  Protestant and Catholic churches are parts of Christianity as a whole).  In researching the demographics of the Philippines, you will find that 92.4% of their population are Christian.  But, more specifically 80.9% of their population are Catholic.  Interesting.  With a country that is so amazingly Christian, why would one need to go into the masses and profess their faith in a hope of showing the heathens the one true path?  That’s just it – Bob Tebow does not see Catholicism as a viable religion.  With the statistics being what they are (even if you bend them a few percentage points in either direction) – it is still a Catholic nation that worships Christ at some form of an alter.

On Bob Tebow’s website for BTEA, he stated this:

“The Philippines, a country comprised of over 7,100 islands, has historically been an area of abuse and conquest. Of the 86 million Filipinos, we estimate that over 65 million have never once heard the Gospel of Jesus Christ.“

Wow.  Not the case.  And, before you Catholic-hate-mongers start commenting on how we don’t believe in Christ or we worship statues or we are able to do whatever because we can repent to our clergy…. know this, as the most basic element of our faith we believe the following:

“We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all that is seen and unseen. We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, one in being with the Father. Through Him all things were made. For us men and our salvation He came down from heaven: by the power of the Holy Spirit, He was born of the Virgin Mary , and became man. For our sake He was crucified under Pontius Pilate; He suffered, died, and was buried. On the third day He rose again in fulfillment of the scriptures: He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son. With the Father and the Son, He is worshiped and glorified. He has spoken through the Prophets. We believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins. We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.”

Now – again, I started this blog with a disclaimer noting that I am not a devout Catholic.  However, growing up in the Appalachian Bible Belt where our Church had a good-sized congregation but the Catholic school had a graduating eighth grade class of only eight kids – there were occasions I took heat for my faith.  So I know how rough evangelicals can be when confronted with the fact that I, as a Catholic, DO (wholeheartedly) believe in Christ.  When I moved to NYC I was in utter awe that there was a Catholic church on nearly every street corner.  That, on Ash Wednesday, I rode the train home to Long Island with scores of people who sported ashes on their foreheads.  Here in WV, as a kid, it is hard to explain to other kids what those “smudges” represented and why we had to wear them around town on our foreheads.  They mocked what they did not know.  The adults in this same Bible Belt continue to this day to mock what they do not know.  What I noted a few lines ago, what “we” believe in?  That is called the Nicene Creed if you care to look it up.  It is basis of our faith.

In reading up on the subject, David Gray (an avid Catholic blogger) notes the following scripture:  John 17:21-23.  (Paraphrasing) it states that we (as Christians) are to come together as one, unified.  So, why is it – when the Catholic religion follows Christ (in a more concentrated fashion than a number of Protestant churches) are “we” considered outsiders?  Why is it that Bob Tebow feels the need to “poach Catholics” (as David Gray puts it)?  Are we all not trying to reach the same goal?  Should efforts in nations with under 1% of their population be a better sounding board for the Christian faith – countries like Tunisia, Algeria, Thailand, etc?  Or is it easier to score new members to your congregation in a country that already, overwhelmingly, follows a Christ-themed doctrine?

I am curious to hear the feedback that I will receive on this subject and to see which of my southern “Christian friends” truly believe I am going to hell for practicing Catholicism.  If you believe it, if it is your true faith to believe it – now is the time to tell me to my Face(book).  So friend, do you think I am a heathen because I am Catholic?

Another thought – if Tim threw down a mat and faced Mecca, would we be so gung ho to allow him his religious expressions?  Of, if he had the prayer beads of the Tibetan monks around his wrist in the locker room as he prepared for the day’s game, would we be so tolerant?  Catholic is my faith.  There are many faiths in the world and I am not arrogant enough to belittle you for yours, so why belittle me for mine?

Ok – I am braced, rip me a new one – explain to me why Bob Tebow’s ministry should not offend me.

Ciao

Things I read while researching Bob Tebow’s mission (and my dislike of Tim Tebow as a player not one of the faithful):

Colorlines (Covers things like the anti abortion ad Tim was in with his mom, and whether he is endorsing a conservative political agenda.).  Brought up an interesting subject – In 1996, NBA basketball player Craig Hodges sued the league, claiming that it blackballed him for his political activism. There are some others listed as well from the Vietnam era that displayed black pride and were conveniently and permanently removed from the playing field.

Salon (Covers the thought – what if Tim Tebow were Muslim?)

Gawker (Covers the Non-sports-fan guide to Tim Tebow)

Focus on the Family (The sponsor of the Tebow anti-abortion ad who are also not so fond of the gay community)

Wikipedia demographics on the Philippines

CNN Blog titled “Explain it to me John 316“

David Gray – Tim Tebow and Catholics: The Emerging Love-Hate Relationship

Ok, ok, I don’t really have blue tinted glasses. I do, however, suffer from wintertime blues. But, then again, who doesn’t? The days are shorter, the nights are colder, and all we want is a little color in the world. That was my frame of mind as I set out on a Saturday afternoon. I was on the hunt for color.

In recent weeks I have been exploring trails in the Fayette County area. Growing up here, there are many trails that kids inevitably know inside and out. As an adult, I have come to realize there are a vast number of trails that I have yet to explore. One such trail is the Rend (Thurmond-Minden) Trail. To get to the there, take the Glen Jean exit off of Rt 19. Make an immediate left. At the bottom of the hill (less than a half mile) turn right and follow the signs to Thurmond (WV Rt 25). Drive for five miles, the trail is on your left. There is good signage and it’s hard to miss. Parking is good (large graveled lot) and there’s a restroom in the parking area.

You can find a great Rend Trail map here.

Thurmond is an area that I know and love so well. Growing up less than ten miles away from the area (and now owning the house I grew up in), I have explored the sandy river beaches, made my way in and out of the back alleyways of the abandoned mining town and have inner-tubed the adjacent Dun Loop Creek. If you love to take pictures (whether pro or amateur) this is a great area to find the perfect shot. Through my years of exploring the area I never gave Rend Trail a single consideration. Although I regret not previously giving time to it, what a joy it was to explore Thurmond from “the other side of the river.” The main trail itself is an easy-comfortable trail. It’s five people wide and well maintained. There are two entry points (Minden and Thurmond) and the entire walk is 6.4 miles roundtrip. The foot traffic was minimal; in three hours we passed fewer than ten people. There are benches along the way and at each overlook making this a great trail for all ages and experience groups.

The Rend Trail dates back to the early 1900s, when the Rend Branch of the Chesapeak & Ohio Railroad (C&O) first used it as a route to haul coal into Thurmond, where it was shipped out to its final destination. Along the trail are several wooden expansions (I assume these bridges replaced the old trestles that once stood during active railroad days). The rails have been long removed in all areas except one—there is a site where a large chunk of rock broke away from the mountain. It severed the rails and has remained there ever since. It looks as if Mother Nature stopped the flow of industry. This didn’t stop the trail-makers though. They built stairs and a wooden pathway around the rock.

This trail did deliver the color I so desired. Along the trail there were a number of downed trees with brilliant fungus on the edges and bark. The oranges against winter’s bleak brown grey were a welcome sight. I started searching for the different fungus types and colors along the way. Another burst of color came from across the river. It was the old town of Thurmond, the bright yellow and red of the train station cutting through the gloom. In researching this trail, I knew hikers would be afforded this amazing view. While on the actual trail though, I fretted for a few hundred yards because I thought the view was obscured by the trees. Not so. In fact, there is a specific overlook with a clean view of the town. So while hiking, fear not. There is a great view for picture taking purposes. Also along the trail are waterfalls that are accessible and also great for pictures. Be careful of your footing if you venture off of the trail.  Although leaves make it appear like solid footing, sometimes it’s not the case.

A couple of safety notes—there are a number of rails that are still active in the Dun Loop Creek area, so be very careful and know your surroundings. Also, though the rocks look sturdy (and I know they would be fun to play on) it’s still very dangerous. Unless you’re an experienced climber (and even then), think twice and do not try to climb the fallen rock. I hiked this trail in January after a decent rain and was reminded of the importance of proper footwear.  Although the path did not have mudholes, the wooden expansions were a bit slick. There are side trails (Church Loop) which have not been maintained this winter and are obstructed and rendered difficult to pass. Hopefully, by spring the park service will be able to clear those out. There is no lighting, so daylight hiking would be optimal.

Overall, this is a great trail. Springtime would be the best for those wanting to take picture while the trees and flowers are in bloom (I plan to return in the spring, camera in hand). However, one can find color in the world, no matter what time of year you seek it. I hope you take the Rend Trail! Please leave comments about your experiences on this trail or make suggestions for other trails you would like to hear more about. I am an adventurer at your command!

What an amazing character he was and he is sorely missed.  He was a true original Hero, as far as I am concerned.  Alexander Taraczkozy was born on Valentines Day to Hungarian immigrants.  My great-grandfather was a shoe maker and my great-grandmother ran a boarding house.  They lived in the coal camps and had amazingly colorful children.  I used to tell kids my Pawpaw was Redd Foxx ((laughing)).  I was in Kindergarten at the time and had the vast majority of my class believing that Elvis was my uncle and Redd Foxx was my Grandfather.  Yes, I was THAT kid.

Pawpaw was rough and rowdy in his youth.  Back in those days, families waited until their children went to bed before putting up the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve.  So, Pawpaw’s Mother set him to the task of finding the family Christmas tree.  He did a great job.  It was beautiful.  Probably the most beautiful tree they ever had.  Of course, the local Klan’s grand poobah who was suddenly missing the fir tree from in front of his dining room window and might not have been as inclined to pat my dark olive-skinned Pawpaw on the back for a job well done.   There was also the time that Pawpaw stole the Klan robes.  As the story goes, my Great-gran stayed up late sewing shirts for fear of the robes being found in their home and harm coming to Alexander.

His wild streak did not end there.  One of the greatest stories that involved Alexander involves his moonshine-running days.  He was known for running shine and hiding out in boarding houses.  One time, in particular, the local authorities were tipped off that there would be a run of shine happening.  My Pawpaw, being the crafty entrepreneur that he was, realized the importance of a timely delivery.  So, he borrowed a hearse.  What good would a hearse do for the delivery of shine, you ask?  Well, back in those days, a hearse looked like some sort of ambulance with a light bar on top.  (example:)

So, he takes the hearse (and a spare coffin), lines the coffin with aforementioned goods and off he went to make his delivery.  Right as rain he encounters the roadblock.  He smiles at the officer, flips the lights and points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the coffin.  It paid off, the officer waved him through and on he went to his destination.

Oh what colorful stories I have of Pawpaw.  I sit here and smile as I type.  Although he has been gone from us for decades, I cannot help but miss him so very, very much.  For most of my life he called me “Sam”.  He would send me “over the hill” to the market to buy cigars for him when I was just seven or eight.  With two one dollar bills for my own use, I would pick up a glass bottle of Dr Pepper, a Reese Cup and a poke of penny candies (chocolate footballs, sixlets and a hand full of now-and-laters).  With the Rose Tipped Cigars in hand I would head home while popping sixlets in my mouth as I skipped along.

My Pawpaw would sit on the front porch, watching the neighborhood from his perch while smoking his Rose Tips.  He was missing three fingers on one hand from a blasting cap accident in the mines.  His green workpants, suspenders and cap tipped a little up and to the side were all parts of his signature wardrobe.  One of his old wooden canes was used by my Ma.  It hangs in my closet in my bedroom.  I see it every morning when I am getting ready for work.  It reminds me of them and makes me smile.

I miss you so much Pawpaw.  Please give Mawmaw and Ma a squeeze for me.  Sam misses you something fierce.

Alex and Pauline Taraczkozy (below)

Alexander and “Sam” aka Chelle (above)

Alex (in his signature outfit) and Pauline (below)

I can remember meeting my step-brother when I was no more than four or five years old.  It was Easter-time.  I can remember the mustard yellow dress, hat and stockings I wore (a pic of me in that outfit on that day can be found on my FaceBook profile).  Sigh, I was a slave to my Ma’s fashion choices.  I can remember him being there in a suit.  And, although I cannot remember details of our conversations or what we did, I can remember the feeling of unease being around him caused.  I can remember being glad when he left to return to his home in Ohio.

It was a number of years later when I overheard a conversation my Ma was having (and it was discussed with me in later years) – I was maybe a (pre) teen.  My Ma was upset that he had written me a letter in which he had asked me for pictures in my bathing suit.  I can remember how infuriated my Ma was and how inappropriate she found it.  It was only recently that I have found out that (I am assuming around the same time) he had written to one of my aunts with the same request.  Between that occurrence and my Ma’s death, I cannot recall a single time that I saw my step brother.  My parents would travel to Ohio to visit him, that was it.  I never tagged along for those visits, I was left (happily) with my Grandparents.  Some years before my Ma’s death I CAN remember a conversation with her that he had lost a job due to sexual harassment and that he felt it was a misunderstanding.  I do not know the details of that or the severity – but I believed it then and even more so now.

When my Ma passed it was as if a convergence of crazy occurred at her wake/funeral.  You know in the fantasy movies when the person who cast the protective spell dies and all the crappy characters now enter the scene carte blanche?  Yeah, if my life were a fantasy movie that would have been the scene theme for Ma’s services.  I had a prodigal half-sister and prodigal step-brother arrive on the scene / my crazy aunt had the funeral home call to see if she could be granted permission to pay respects outside of the regular service hours so as to not get an ass whomping from the rest of us…  Because Ma’s death ripped away from me a large chunk of my heart, I tried very hard to see past my side of all three sets of their issues.  My aunt was granted permission to pay her respects outside of the regular visitation (although she refused to see Ma while she was alive, who was I to stop her from trying to appease the dead), I told the half-sister that I would try to start working towards “normal” with her but not at that moment (again, my heart was overwhelmed from the loss) and I decided to ignore the unease I felt whenever I was in the same room as SB (step brother). 

There was a flurry of activity that surrounded the death of Ma.  I slept little.  I worked at odd things (like going through all of her closets and bagging up all of the clothes that needed to be distributed – going through memory chests – lots of activity and little sleep).  I was oblivious to outside forces at that point.  Also at that time, I was living with a Nashville native who had made the trek from NY to WV with me.  I had never given him the history on SB, just noted that I never felt comfortable around him and asked that he buffer for me.  He did a great job at that.  Nashville came to me at one point and asked if SB had a mental condition or something because there was something “just not right” about him.  SB asked for pictures of me and I acted as if I did not hear him, something about that letter from all those years ago just made me feel as if it would be creepy for him to have any photo of me.  My Sister D (who is my step-sister but more like my only sister in my eyes) was going through picture albums and taking snapshots of Dad’s old black and white photos with her camera.  She came upon a picture of me and SB asked that she snap it and email it to him.  I asked her to ignore his request (it was a picture of me so I felt I was able to veto that request).

In the weeks after Ma’s death I was faced with a number of life changes: Nashville proposed marriage and I said yes; I gave notice to my job; and I moved home to West Virginia to be closer to my Daddy.  Somewhere during that time, SB and the half-sister (not to be confused with D) added me on FaceBook.  I felt that it would be aggravating but harmless, what is the worse that could happen?  For reasons to be posted in another blog, the prodigal half-sister was defriended and blocked.  So was SB.  And this is why – I cannot recall the specifics of the status update but it had to do with Star Wars characters.  Many comments were being exchanged when in the middle of it all SB commented that he would be Han Solo and I would be Princess Leia.  To save myself from embarrassment as that was a set of characters who shared a love interest and he and I were step-siblings – I commented ‘No, we would be more like Luke and Leia.  You know, brother and sister.”  He went on a rampage of how that is not right, Han and Leia it was.  It was a rampage that was enough to cause Nashville to chime in with a “give it a rest you effing creep” comment.  I deleted the exchange (utterly embarrassed that I was then moving to WV and here my SB appeared to be having a thing for me), I defriended and blocked him. 

Before I blocked him though, I received the following message:

Um, at the expense of sounding not too well written I must say – W.T.F.?  Seriously?  I do not know this guy and he wants to tell me Becky (spelled wrong) is always with me in spirit?  Thanks but I will pass.  My Ma, Beckie, did her best to make sure we were never in the same place at the same time so please try another angle.  …likes scrunchy face?  WTF?!?  What are you, twelve?!?  You are doing a “shout out” to my (at that time) nineteen year old daughter!! Keg party?!?! BYOK?!?  Sheesh!

In the months since that time, I have blocked three different pages that he has created.  He adds, I block.  You would think that would be a hint in itself.  But no.

In the fall of 2010, Daddy received a child support notification.  That’s right, my Dad, pushing 70 received a child support notification.  From SB’s mother.  She had found some loophole in the system that the age of child support in the state of Ohio had been changed from 18 to 21.  SB was in the friggin MILITARY then!!!  And the state of Ohio was bound and determined that my Daddy should have paid child support.  So SB (pushing frigging 50) was due child support… PUSHING FIFTY!!  Sigh.  Anger resurfaces for me on that one.  My Ma passed and the first moment they could, these two vultures decided they would try to see what they could scrape away from my Dad.  They did not realize that with the passing of my Ma, my Dad’s social security was cut in more than half.  He had come to a point in his life he did not expect – one in which he was without his wife and had to learn to better manage his money.  And then here were frick and frack trying to stick out a hand and grab whatever they could.  I have no respect for that.  None.  My Dad had (in those years) tried his best to make some sort of relationship work with SB.  He tried to build upon whatever was there, visited him, asked him to visit.  Ugh.  And then that.  I told him (and I am not ashamed that I said so) “It will be her undoing – she will not live to see the full payment of that debt.”  She died after receiving one child support payment. 

Go ahead, say it – shame on me.  I don’t care.  I feel no remorse for saying it nor do I feel sympathy that she passed.  My Dad made amends, I did not have to. 

I told my Dad that I would not seek SB out BUT if he EVER reached out to me, it would be my ticket to unleash the fires of hell.  That opportunity presented itself on Veteran’s Day in 2010.  The following exchange occurred:

Hello from SB Michelle,tell Dad that I said Happy Veterans Day.(his son

Michelle Seletyn Rodriguez   Please do not ever speak to me again. You and your Mom are suing MY Daddy for child support…seriously? How old are you?!?! Not so much a son-ly thing to do – especially with him barely making his ends meet…. Way to go ‘son’. Loose my contact info, do not EVER speak to me again. Not sure if you and your Mother thought he received some huge life insurance payment for my Mom but he did not…. What a piece of work the two of you are. AND you have the nerve to reach out to me like I want to be friendly with you? Get lost!

That was the “niced up” version I sent.  There was one which was much more scathing that noted I was not beyond making a trip to Ohio to smack the shit out of him for taking advantage of my Dad when he was at a low point.

His mother passed the summer of 2011 with only one child support payment under her belt.  SB visited my Dad during that time.  I made sure that I had a full work schedule and was never available to be any place he might be.  After his visit I received a letter from SB which read:

07-01-2011

Hello there how are you doing?  There are a couple of things that I wanted to talk to you in person but I feel better putting them down in writing.  I received a letter from the child support enforcement agency here in Columbus and it stated that the case will be officially closed on 09/24/2011.  I feel that you need to know this because I guess you were upset when dad received the paperwork in the mail.  There is one more important thing I want to say to you.

I want the both of us to make an effort to get along with each other as family.  I have never had animosity, ill will, or mean negative feelings toward you.  Whats past is past and whats done is done, water under the bridge.  Lets have a better relationship and get along with each other because life is short.  Yes Michelle, life is too short and you and I should concentrate on now and the FUTURE.  To be honest with you Michelle, I really dont know you as a person other than your name but, I want to get to know you as a person and you should get to know me as a person.  I know that I may be an outsider in the family but, I really dont like the idea of being on the outside.

Michelle, life would be much better and much nicer if you we had a great relationship and got to know each other.  I would like it very much if we could keep in touch by either phone or email each other back & forth.  I know that you are a busy woman with work, the house, and family but when you get some free time please call me, write or send an email to me just to say HELLO or whatever you want to talk about.  Would you be interested in having a good relationship with me as family?  because I want to have a family type relationship with you as family.

Hey there young lady, I must admit that you are not a bad person and you do have some good qualities about yourself that I like —>

1. You are a hard worker

2. Your independent and mature

3. You are a very religious person who has a strong belief in GOD

4. You have grown up from a cute, little girl that I remember to a mature, independent, attractive, sexay, beautiful young lady

5. Both your kids turned out o.k KUDOS

SB has good features too

1. sincere

2. kind

3. sweet

4. cute

5. adorable, wonderful

6. very handsome

7.  a little crazy

8. and a little obnocious (ON WEEKENDS)

9. and an all around nice guy

Well, I just want to say

Best Wishes and Take Care

((pause))

So, because his mom died and the (foolishly charged) child support stopped I was supposed to now just say “Oh geeze, you’re my hero – let’s make amends!”?  Fuck off.  No, seriously.  Fuck off.  “I want the both of us to make an effort…”  DUDE – HOW MANY TIMES OF ME IGNORING YOU DO YOU REQUIRE TO GET THE POINT I WILL NOT MAKE ANY EFFORT TO BEFRIEND YOU, YOU FREAK OF FUCKING NATURE?!?!?!?!  In reading any of his letters, they start out one way and it is as if another personality switches over and he goes from some weird relative to a scary freak.  I never thought of myself as a bad person, thanks for clarifying that for me? AND what freaking sibling calls you SEXAY?!?!?!?  And think of yourself as cute, adorable and handsome as qualities a step-sister should find of merit enough to submit to a great relationship?!?!  What. The. Fuck.  May the force be up your ass!  That’s what I have to say about it all.  And, he held no ill will towards me, water under the bridge and all?  YOU WERE THE ONE WHO SUED DAD FOR CHILD SUPPORT DOUCHE!!

Ok – stop, breathe, calm down.  Ugh.  If only it ended there.  I ignored that letter.  Of course I called my sister and fussed like a MF’er, but I ignored it.  Did not tell Dad about it (why should I worry him that his son is a literal freak?!?)  Then came the news that he was coming to WV for Thanksgiving.  Please note that this was the first Thanksgiving in so many years that I cannot even remember that I did not spend with one (or both) of my parents.  All because of this poor excuse of a tard.  I made excuses to Dad so he would not feel bad.  We had a fake Thanksgiving on Sunday with the kids.  I protected my Dad from once again telling him his son has mental issues. 

While he was at my Dad’s house – he rooted through my Dad’s paperwork in the kitchen, found Amanda’s cell number and then proceeded to harrass the hell out of her by cell phone.  Although he was told I wanted nothing to do with him, he showed up on my doorstep pounding on the door (which went unanswered – lucky bastard – I was in the back of the house giving the cat a bath but it scared Mander to no end).  Then he went home.  And still I ignored it.  He sent Christmas cards to Mander and I (Mander’s was signed his name and telephone number and mine had a reminder that he meant EVERYTHING in his letter sent this summer).  Still I ignored it.  Then, the last straw.  On my blog here – he found through internet creeping – he left a comment – “Hello Michelle.How are you doing this Christmas?I just wanted to say that I have just read your blog about your recent blog about 2 Forgive Or Not To Forgive and I was really touched by your story.I had no idea what you went through growing up but now,I get it.You are a survivor,remember that.Have you thought about writing a book about your life growing up through today?Hey,I would be interested in reading your book.I know that you probably never heard me say this to you but,I love and care about you as a step sisterand you are indeed a wonderful lady and a wonderful human being.Call Me-(number withheld for blog) so we can chat.  Merry Christmas Michelle  Your Wonderful Handsome Step Bro”

First of all, I have repeatedly blocked you from FaceBook and now you are moving on to my blog?  And no, you don’t fucking get it.  You don’t get it at all.  You have made me uncomfortable, you are creepy and I am tired of ignoring you in a hopes that you will just STOP.  And although this note is more mild than the previous, it is still signed with ”hansome” and it is sent on the tail end of my REPEATEDLY making it known that I want no contact.  Seriously?  It was the last straw.  Done.  So I put together a letter and sent it to him certified so he had to sign it and I would have proof when I went to the authorities for a restraining order that he knows I want no form of contact with him, nor does my daughter.  I wanted him to receive it, in plain English so my intentions are not misunderstood, that I was perfectly clear.  My letter read:

I do not feel comfortable with you in any fashion.  You are my step-brother and you continue to creep me out and make me feel uncomfortable with comments like calling me sexy or saying that you want to have a relationship with me.  It is unacceptable the way you present yourself to me, as my “step brother”.  A person does NOT call their siblings “sexy”.  It is gross and improper.  Since I was a young kid, every time I came in contact with you, you made me uncomfortable.  I ignored it for the sake of my Dad.  I am not the only one who you have made uncomfortable with your attentions you place on me.  As such, please let this letter stand as a request from me to you to cease and desist from any form of (or attempt at) communication with me and/or my daughter, Amanda.

Please refrain from any contact with me.  Do not call, write, email, comment on my social pages.  I do not want to have any contact with you whatsoever.

I am sending this letter certified with a return receipt requiring your signature as proof that I have asked you to cease and desist from ANY form of communication with me.

In addition, do not try to contact Amanda, my daughter.  Do not call, write, email or comment on her social pages.  Amanda does not want to have any contact with you whatsoever.

I am sending this letter certified return receipt as proof that I have asked you to cease and desist from ANY  form of communication with my daughter, Amanda.

If you continue to try to contact me or Amanda in ANY manner I will seek assistance from a magistrate and ask that a restraining order be placed upon you.

Again – no contact with me, Michelle Seletyn Rodriguez and/or no contact with my daughter, Amanda.

He received that letter Christmas Eve and signed for it.  I do not care that he received it on a holiday.  I sent it the very first opportunity I could after he commented on my blog and that it was Christmas Eve when he signed it falls on him, not me.  Do you think it would end there?  I would have thought that to be enough to spook him into realizing that he is treading dangerously close to being held accountable by the authorities for his actions.  That (just maybe) he would then realize the severity of my feeling so uncomfortable with his unwarranted attentions.  That maybe now – he would be forced to just STOP (which was all I ever wanted).  Yet no, he still continues.

So I am on the phone with Daddy and I can tell there is something up.  I tell him I am stopping by on the way home from work.  I stop in and I can immediately see that he is hesitant about something.  I am trying to figure out what is going on and then he tells me SB sent him a letter.  Seriously?!?  All this time I have been protecting my Dad from the freak nature of his son and SB wrote a letter pleading his case and included a copy of MY letter (which I am thankful he did, yet another form of proof that I have asked him to cease and desist and he is aware that his attentions are unwanted.)  His letter reads:

12-27-2011

Dear Dad,

I know that this is the holiday season and I am sorry for dumping this in your lap but here is a copy of the letter Michelle sent me.

1.  Michelle claims that she doesn’t feel comfortable with me in any fashion so why wait till the holiday season to tell me?

2. I have never said or done anything to her daughter Amanda to make her uncomfortable.  I have been cordial.

3. Michelle misinterprets things like the “relationship part” not as a girlfriend but as family.

4. I have said nothing but nice things to Michelle like her being a wonder person, an attractive woman and a great mother.

I think that she has personal issues from the past that she hasnt dealt with like the child support situation between my late mother and dad.  I also think she has some psychological issues.

Whenever I wrote nice things to Michele like in the letter I wrote a while back I was careful in what I wrote.

Michelle has the gall and nerve to send me this letter during the holiday season.  Who was it that was there for her when her mother Becky passed away? I WAS!

I was there for moral support or did Michelle forget that? I was cordial with her too.  I cant believe that Michelle would stoop so low as to get mad at me for sending her and Amanda XMAS cards putting my phone # in them.  What is the harm in that?

Well I guess that you cant reason with a person who is irrational.

Your son

PS TALK TO HER PLEASE OH TERESA THOUGHT THAT WHAT ‘M’ DID WAS WEIRD

I love that he has done nothing to make Amanda feel uncomfortable but there is no mention of doing things to make ME uncomfortable.  There is no mention of his calling me sexy or continually making himself seem “datable” in his list of attributes.  When he wrote to me, why did he have to be “careful in what I wrote”?  And if ANYONE knows you cannot deal with an irrational person, it would be me.  Two years of blocking pages and ignoring him and I am now forced to seek legal counsel?  I am SO glad he asked Dad to contact me - according to my lawyer, it helps to proceed with a restraining order as I had asked that there be no form of or attempt at communication with me.  The thing is, I did not want it to go to this extreme.  I cannot afford a lawyer, yet one I have.  I cannot afford to take time off from work to see a magistrate, yet his relentless pursuit of me dictates otherwise.  Why can he not just see that I am not comfortable around him, do not want to have a relationship (of the family style or otherwise) with him, and I just want him to GO AWAY.   

It should have ended with my certified letter to him.  Surprise! – it did not end there.  He is now on a telephone campaign, calling as many relatives as he can.  He did, in fact, reach my aunt Teresa.  I have reached out to her and asked her that she not discuss me or anything about my kids with him.  I explained that he has gotten to the point of scaring me and no information should be shared with him.  She said he was very upset and went into great (his) detail of events at Christmas.

I have now heard (from multiple sources) that SB has expressed interest in moving to WV.  I cringe at the thought of this.  I truly do.  I believe, given the right circumstances and availability - I would be in physical danger from SB.  I have a Louisville slugger that sits behind my front door and an aluminum bat at the back.  And, after the peeping tom scare from last summer, I am still considering taking a gun course and picking up a small revolver (now more so than ever).   

Who the fuck tells their aunt they have been bad and needs spanked?!?!  Who asks female relatives for pictures of them in their bathing suits?!?!?  Who tells their sibling they think she is sexy?!?!   

Ugh. 

He has used the language “I am not a sexual deviant” – his words, not mine.  But, I believe he is.  I believe that, unless I take some sort of action to protect myself I am potentially in eminent danger.  I believe there is something fundamentally wrong with him.  I refuse to be antagonized or scared. 

Ciao

The back story to that conversation is that my Ma and I had a tumultuous relationship (at best) and through many heavy issues, it took my moving almost ten hours away for us to get past our differences and have a real Mother-Daughter relationship.  Did we love each other – always.  That was not the cure that made everything better though.  But it is the reason we survived through my 20s.  However (for me) that conversation with my Ma was her way of unburdening herself so she could die with an eased conscious.  The reason why I refused to accept it (as harsh as it sounds) was that I felt if I had said what most people would have said – I forgive you – it would have signified my permission to allow her to die.  I just was not ready for that.  Selfish, I know, but honest.  Ma was with me for two years after that, so the issues that weighed on her mind were eventually resolved.  Just not on that particular day.

When my children were very young – Alex was a toddler at the time and Mander still in diapers, we lived in a small apartment in Richmond, Kentucky.  It was low-income housing and I worked as much as I could to scrape together what I could to provide for my children.  Times were tough.  And I was mad and bitter and at the end of my rope.  My ex-husband had effectively isolated me from my friends and family, I was struggling to even put food on the table and I hated everyone else for being happy while I suffered through.  I could literally feel the bile burn in my stomach over what a shitty hand life had dealt me.  I wallowed in it, wore it like a fine cloak, owned it.  Then one afternoon I was sitting on my couch, just staring out my window, when I realized something – my life was not going to get any better when it was weighted down with all of this hatred I had built up.  I had to let it go.  It happened to be around New Years.  I started making phone calls.  I called people that I had not spoken to for a decade and sorted out my issues with them.  I spoke to family members that I had written off and made amends.  And then, I called my Ma.  She was the last and hardest on the list because our issues appeared insurmountable.  When she answered, it was with an edge.  And I said three simple words, “I love you”.  That was followed by apologies and forgiveness.  My life changed that day, it was not any easier than before the phone call but my heart was lighter and I was able to deal with life in a more acceptable way.

Since that time I have made it my obligation to make amends in the weeks that lead up to New Years.  The numbers are far less that I have to reach out to.  But it never fails that there are at least one or two people that I feel the need to contact and just set things right.  This year is no different.  Which brings me to the second half of the story of my Ma’s conversation with God…

My Ma made a lot of phone calls.  God had put her on some sort of a deadline (who knew that God micromanaged?!?).  So she was hellbent (pardon the pun) on getting the task put before her out of the way in the proper amount of time.  She reached out to my aunt Tammy.  The two of them had deep rooted issues that (even when my Ma was on her deathbed) would never be resolved.  Ma’s conversation with her went a little different than the one she had with me.  In essence (and with my paraphrasing), it went something like this:  (Ma:) Tammy?  This is Beckie.  I talked to God the other night and he told me I needed to forgive you for all of the crap you did to me.  So I forgive you.  I don’t want to hang out with you or anything but I need to forgive you for everything.  And please forgive me.

((Chuckle))  That was the essence of my Ma.  And they wonder where I get my bluntness from!

So, ’tis the season for my forgiveness…  I have a handful of people on my roster.  Going into this task, I am never foolish enough to think that people will accept my forgiveness, or even want it and the same goes with my apologies.  Sometimes a person is forgiven, sometimes I have to ask for forgiveness.  Sometimes it is a combo of both.  But, however the conversation is structured (usually) there are real reasons why we are at odds and although I am ready to move on does not mean I should be offended when the intended party does not reciprocate.  Today – I sent an email to the first person on my list.  I forgave them and asked them to forgive me.  Its not easy doing either of those things sometimes.  However, when the reply is: “Ill smile and play nice but know I will nvr forgive you so you can shove your apology back up your ass where it came from.” – I laughed out loud.  I am giggling right now.  I knew that the response from the offended party would probably be negative (as Ma would say, I don’t want to hang out with you but I forgive you anyways).

The thing for me is this – it is harder to hold onto the negative energy rather than just letting it go.  But it always seems that even though I REALLY want to let go, it still surfaces on occasion.

Second on the list is someone I don’t have to see every day or have occasion to bump into, so I am thankful for that.  However, it is one that I have to pull from deep within to see my way past.

And, in closing, I would like to say (with all sincerity) that I really am not a psychotic bitch.  Ok, maybe some days I am… The first step to recovery is acknowledgement ((giggle))

Ciao

On my Lifetime List I have a number of things to see, to do, to accomplish, to eat and several people to meet.  The list is pretty long and pretty diverse.  For instance, one of the things I want to accomplish in my life is to – Save A Life.

So, how does one save a life?  Let’s see – I have donated gallons of plasma.  No, really, I have!  I donated twice a week for months on end.  Of course, I have to admit, selling my plasma was strictly for profit (so the life saving seems a little tarnished if, in fact, there was any life saving to be had from that venture).  See, I was a single Mom with a not-so-paying kind of ex.  With O Negative blood, I was somewhat of a commodity.  Thirty-five bucks a pop kind of a commodity,to be exact.  $70 per week was enough to pick up diapers and a few meals.  It was a no-brainer.  I popped into Campus Plasma (just off of the EKU campus), they pulled a bag of blood from me and put it into the centrifuge machine.  That bag would then spin round and round and (as happens with the magical forces of blood) the plasma and red blood cells separated.  The phlebotomist would then take the red blood cells, add saline and pump it back into my arm.  FYI – it was always such a weird sensation because as the saline-infused blood would be introduced back into my system, the overwhelming taste of the saline would occur, as if I had just taken a drink of salt water.  Always weird.

I have also donated blood at local blood drives.  Cathedral Cafe holds a blood drive once a year.  I missed this past year because it was a payroll week.  But the year before – I went on the little bus, answered questions in a cube like: “No, I have not been to Africa “or “No, I have never had same-sex sex” and, my personal favorite “No, I have not sold my genitals for profit” (I know, I know – but I am writing this blog so paraphrasing is allowed because I say so).  My Ma had to have transfusions.  I know how important they are.  Again, being O Negative – I am a commodity and if I can help as simply as that, then sign me up.

Now – for registering to be a bone marrow donor. It is something I always wanted to do.  When I lived in NY there was a $30 registration fee and you had to go through a process but your health insurance would sometimes pay because it was considered a preventative test.  I was just about ready to register to be a donor at that time only things went terribly wrong with my Ma’s health and being a donor was put on the back burner.  Fast forward roughly two years to the end of November 2011.  I thought:  “Wow, I really wish I had done that.  I really wish that I could do something so amazing as donate my marrow to someone who needs it.  I could have done that.  I could still do that.  But, I probably will have to wait for a visit to NYC because  after all, it IS West Virginia and I know I probably would have to drive to Morgantown or something to register.” I figured I would look up all of the details anyway.  I was determined to do this, to make myself available in the event my marrow could be used.  Can you imagine how amazed I was when I realized how simple it is to register?

Here is how simple:

You go to the website Be The Match Marrow Registry:  http://marrow.org/Home.aspx.  There you select the “Join The Registry” tab.  You will be taken through some simple steps, a questionnaire, your personal information will be taken and then your registry kit will be mailed to your home.  Yes, a kit.  I did not have to go to a doctor or to a facility.  I received a kit in the mail to take my samples.

The kit looked like this:

You receive a letter welcoming you to the registry and thanking you, a pamphlet with useful information, a return envelope, two packets of swabs and a card with foam and instructions for taking the samples and sending the samples.  You are given your own number for the process, like so:

So, you open the swabs which come two per pack, run them on the inside of your cheek (there are four swabs, one each for upper right cheek, lower right cheeck, upper left cheek and lower left cheek).

Once you have swabbed all sides on top and bottom, you then slide them into the foam fasteners on the instruction card and affix your scan bar with your number on it.

You then put the sample into the self-adhesive envelope.

…and we are good to go.  The back of the envelope says Thank You.  The front of the envelope says “no postage required”.  It is that simple (and free) to register to be a donor.

As for the next steps, well – I will have to update you on those.  Because that envelope right there is the step I am currently on.

There was one point, in the last year of my Ma’s life, that they tried (unsuccessfully) to take a sample of her marrow, thinking that her blood was not producing properly and maybe it was because of her marrow.  I was the first in line to tell them that, if needed, I am sure I would be a match for her and would not hesitate to be there for her as a donor.  Unfortunately, that was not meant to be.  However, if I could do that for someone else – help them in some way be able to have even one more day with the person they love.  Yeah… how awesome would that be?

So, this one goes out to my Ma.  I hope that I can help another Sunflower out there get one more day of hugs, love and words of wisdom that only a Ma can give.  Keep your fingers crossed for me and the karma up and I will keep you updated.

Ciao

A little over a month ago I was in a bad spot.  I was in a funk.  It seemed like there was no light at the end of my tunnel.  I was waiting for someone to reach out to me from the other side of the fog and to save me.  What I have realized in the weeks since is this – I only have one person in this life I can truly depend on – ME.  If I live my life waiting for someone else to rise to the task, I could be waiting a long time and missing out on some pretty spectacular adventures in the interim.

2011 was filled with twists and turns, straight stretches and potholes, delights and devastations.  Looking back with positive eyes – in 2011 I accomplished the following (in no particular order):  I hiked a number of amazing trails with my friends and took great pictures along the way; went skydiving (let me say it again, skydiving); saw Dropkick Murphys, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones and Tim McGraw in concert (not at the same time) while also enjoying the occasional Wild Rumpus; tried lake kayaking for the first time and captained a mouseboat;  went on frollicks to Myrtle, Pittsburgh, DC, Boston, New York City (to name a few); became the somewhat-proud owner of a feline; hit a couple of rivers (and was dumped in one by my lil brudder); went to a handful of midnight showings with amazing people; had my ass roasted by people who remain important in my life; zip lined every chance I got; and all around lived as much as I could but never trying to really reach beyond my own boundaries.

In November I realized that there was a number of changes that needed to occur in my life for me to start feeling more like me.  So, I made the conscious decision to make those changes, to make those cuts and to start – well, simply put, to start feeling like myself again.  A “myself” I have not been privy to for a handful of years. Once I made that decision to move in a positive direction with conviction – I was able to make the following plans:

Jan – Trekking it to Colorado… Rascal Flats and Sara Evans in concert

Feb – Mel (& maybe Erin) in for a lil ski action… Flogging Molly in Myrtle Beach (I love you Creature! Best cuz ever!)

Apr& May – two half marathons (Gristmill Grinder and the Flying Pig) – have already started training and am happy with the results thus far.

2012 Season – climbing, sup’ing, kayaking (and of course more rafting and zipping) – along with some Rumpus’ing.  I hope to buy a lake kayak and explore the nooks and crannies of Plum Orchard Lake.  I have a few dozen trails I plan on mapping and blogging about.

I am writing again and I have a number of stories I am putting together and looking forward to sharing them all.

It is only the weeks coming up to 2012 and all of these plans have fallen into place.  I cannot wait to see the year as it unfolds.  Oh 2012 I am so excited for what you have in store for me.  The new friends, the new special friend, the old friends who are more accessible… the places and things I will experience… I swoon.

Look out 2012 – here I come!

Ciao

The name of the site/app: MapMyFitness.com

I have downloaded the following associated apps to my iPhone:  MapMyRun, MapMyHike, MapMyWalk and MapMyFitness.  Although I have only been using the site/app for a handful of days, I can tell you it is amazingly useful.  I have been concentrating primarily on the MapMyWalk app because I have been checking out run locations and I am terrible at judging distance.  The way it works:  using the app on your iPhone (the app uses your phone’s GPS), you record your route  in real time.  The app looks like a Google map with two little pins, one for where you start and one for where you are currently standing.  It will record: distance traveled, tell you the incline/decline of the route and let you know how long it took you to complete.  Once you finish recording the route, you select “save” and it can be uploaded to the site and you will be able to access it from your laptop.

There is a “live” feature that allows you to “broadcast” your route as you are taking it.  This feature would be useful for those athletes in remote areas, training solo – so their friends or family know where they are in the event of an emergency.

Today I mapped out the distance around High Lawn Memorial Gardens.  It is a decent, paved roadway that goes around the outside of a cemetery.  The traffic is low-volume and there are two decent little inclines that give you more than just a “sidewalk” feel.  The downside to this route is that the gates are closed at dusk.  Because it is winter and I live in the land of 9to5, it is difficult for me to get to this location before the full onset of dusk/dark.  I hope to speak to the caretakers and ask if it would they would be too terribly put out by my running the route of the evening time with a headlamp.  (I know, I am a freak and would not be in the least bit put out by the fact I would be running in the dark in a graveyard).  The thing is, it is surrounded by residential areas, so it is really not that scary.  This is the link to the mapping of this route:  http://www.mapmyfitness.com/routes/view/59978576.  So far I like this route far more than the old little league football field.  If I am unable to run it during the week, I am sure that I will incorporate it into my weekend schedule.

The one downside to using the app is the need to download multiple apps.  I wish I could download one to my phone and it be universal for the whole set. However, if that is the worse thing I encounter using this app – then it is worth it.

To download sample workout plans you also have to pay $5.99 per month for a premium usage fee.  I plan to keep the free services for the time being and utilizing the Nike Training App for workout samples (it has great exercise explanations in vid clips).  I can do the workouts and then just input the information into the MapMyFitness site.

It is a pretty interesting site/app.  If you are training for a race, new to biking or running, or would just be curious to see your regular run/walk route on a map – then I highly suggest downloading the app and using the website.  So far, it has proven to be worth it.

Ciao.

My favorite aunt in the whole wide world is Debo.  Debbie has always been this amazing free spirit who knew how to make me laugh and how to get me into trouble at the same time.  She took me to my first Rated R movie (Blue Lagoon) and didn’t even cover my eyes for the naked parts (I was 12ish).  She was the one who first pierced my ears (I have had three additional holes added to the two ears since).  If I had questions, she would answer them honestly and matter-of-factly.  For all the men who have come into (and out of) my life – you can thank Debo and her room of great magazines for who “I am” today.  She allowed me to drive my first car (a red Super Nova – maybe 14ish).  There are a number of stories I have from my childhood that involve my Aunt Debo.  This one is about a Ballerina…

In Debo’s house there was a room that might have had literature of a mature nature.  (I actually paused as I was typing that line, looked off into the distance – remembering said room – and smiled).  It was in this room that I found a magazine that had the most amazingly beautiful man I had ever seen in my whole life.  He was a Ballerina.  And, what to my amazing eyes should appear as I opened the folded pages out to the centerfold within?  PENIS!!  I was mystified.  I was intrigued.  I was stymied.  Why would this guy just throw his penis out there for everyone to see?  [Mind you I knew what a penis was even though I was only in sixth grade - my Ma had previously taken me along with her for a "lady appointment" when I was in fourth grade and I sat patiently in the waiting  room and watched the miracle of birth tape that was on loop there.  So yes, Michelle knew where babies came from and how they were put "up in there" in the first place.]

 As I sat there in awe-struck admiration I realized this – Mr Ballerina-Man should be rewarded for his efforts, for putting himself out there.  He should have his name heralded from the tree tops.  How can I help him in his endeavor?  Um… Let me think.  How can I help Mr Naked Ballerina-Man?  Wait!  I’ve got it!!  I have show-n-tell for Sister Rose’s class this week!  I will take his beautiful picture and explain to the other, less mature children, how this man (and his naked art) should be revered…..

I can ease your mind by telling you I was never able to fully “expose” my class to the wonderments of this amazing artist.  I can also tell you that, in sixth grade, I was able to outrun my Ma in laps around our house (and was capable of holding onto the photo evidence in my possession while running at top rates of speed).  I will also venture to explain that there was a beautiful huge oak tree in my front yard that had a hollow-hole at the bottom (on the side facing away from the house) that was big enough to hide certain Chelle-Artifacts.  Once the photos were securely stored, I made my way to my hideout in a nook under the tall front porch and I waited…   

How did this story end, I am sure you are asking?  It ended with my Ma walking through the house, locking the backdoor, coming to the front porch and sitting in a rocker.  There she rocked as she loudly explained a simple set of facts to me (loudly because she knew I was in my hideout directly underneath her, she wanted to make sure I caught the whole lecture):  “Eventually you will get hungry and want to eat, there is food inside.  Eventually you will get tired and I am sure your bed will be much more comfortable than the cold, hard ground.  The neighbors have been warned and will n0t let you in.  You have no where to run.  Just turn yourself in, face your troubles and get on with your life.  The longer you make me wait, the worse it is going to be – I have things I need to do and cannot get them done sitting here waiting on you.”

So I turned myself in.  I was punished accordingly (my Ma was fond of using the metal end of a flyswatter – that left crazy welps).  The worse part of it – I had to give up my contraband.  In retrospect, the one thing that saddens me is that I cannot remember the real name of Mr Naked Ballerina-Man so I could pull a picture for reference-sake.  Maybe HE is the reason I had a celebrity crush on Mikhail Baryshikov…  sigh.

Hope you enjoyed this five minute short.   I will leave you with a picture of my young celeb-crush as I am unable to provide you with the True Ballerina…

Cia0!.

Depending on how I fare from the races, how my knees hold up and whether I can find two partners to do it with me – I really would love to make Cpt Thurmond’s Challenge part of my running schedule.  It is on my list of things to do and would be an amazing accomplishment.  Not sure yet.  But maybe.

I love all forms of advice, feedback and support (both in the field and written).  I am thinking about picking up CrossFit as my non-running training.  My friend Erin has been a wealth of knowledge so far and I am hoping I don’t bug the piss out of her in the months to come.  And, if you are wanting to get out there and do this too, and you are close enough to me to train with fair regularity – let me know.