Wednesday, May 21, 2014

A few words about people...

No matter the organization. No matter the association. The group. The crowd. The click. Somewhere embedded within, there is that person. Maybe even more than one person. He, she, they are just a little different from the others, and no one can really put their finger on just why that is.

My family, and I mean extended family, is comprised of a myriad of personalities, and hold an equal number of personal beliefs, opinions, and practices. Most are harmless, if not entertaining, while others probably should have a twenty-four guard (just kidding).

Fulfilling a thirty year military career, I encountered some pretty strange individuals. There were people with medical degrees (of course; I served as a Navy Hospital Corpsman), but I also met my fair share of flyers that held degrees in everything from education to business to theology. Again, most fun loving and great to be around. Some? Not so much.

My family had a tragic encounter with law enforcement. The men and women sworn to serve and protect. And allow me to interject that in our family, we have law enforcement officers, but our experience with three was not a good one. Suffice it to be said, three deputies shot my son while he was experiencing a medical crisis.

After my military career, I elected to pursue public education. And all I’ve said to this point held true. Ninety-nine percent of the teachers I worked beside were the most wonderful, caring, dedicated individuals. But, there were those teachers and administrators, who did not know how to behave around teenage girls.
I could go on and on, but I’ll stop the list with our illustrious and comical, at times tragic, politicians. I really don’t believe I have to say much more here considering the news coverage they receive regarding their little trysts with girlfriends, boyfriends, etcetera, etcetera.

Which leads me to the main point of this post. I will be releasing a publication soon which will address violence against women and domestic abuse, globally. One cannot write about such a subject without proper and broad research which includes delving into every conceivable social group, sub-culture group, declared entity, however you wish to identity such collections of people. And trust me, researching this topic led me to some pretty interesting sites with plenty of vivid graphics. My works cited page will be extensive, and while my work will be categorized as fiction and does not include citations, I do intend to publish my works cited via a Blog post.

My list of readings will serve two major purposes. First, my readers will know, upon reading my words, that while fiction, the topic I address is very real. Second, if anyone questions any comment, opinion or fact uttered by one of my characters, they will have a source list available to conduct personal research; and I do most definitely encourage all my readers to read further on my topics, if for no other reason than personal edification.

Having said that, allow me to add this. One of the MANY groups I delve deeply into is the lesbian, bi-sexual, gay, transgender, and queer (LBGTQ). One fact that led me repeatedly to this group was the ever present concept of hegemonic masculinity, the how and why men maintain social control over not only women, but any group they consider inferior to them. Hegemonic masculinity led directly to misogyny, which led directly to the church, and from there this book just took on a life of its own.

Why do I mention the LBGTQ directly? Simply because misogyny is linked directed to homosexual men.
Before you blast that comment alone, please allow me to go back to my opening comments. Every group has its deviant personalities. The teaching profession harbors child predators. Our legislature harbors womanizing perverts. The LBGTG, indirectly that it may be, by virtue of its declared title, harbors closet homosexuals who, for social, marital, corporate, and political influences and bias, cannot easily come out of that closet and live the life they truly yearn to live, to freely and openly experience the sexual existence they were meant to live.

In short, these homosexual men are prisoners in a life they despise, sharing a bed with a gender they don’t like, and unfortunately, this makes for a very angry and dangerous man; a misogynous man.

On my Facebook page, I attempt to include every social entity out there. The LBGTQ is one of those groups. (Still haven’t brought myself to “Like” the ZETA Association! J) In my work I attempt to make clear the distinction between the misogynous homosexual male and the rest; but, what I do not do is water down the issue to patronize any gender, social, political, or religious group or entity.

Life is what it is.


Wednesday, May 7, 2014

“Give a man a fish...

..and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” Those Chinese knew what they were talking about. This proverb will outlive us all, and probably do more good. I prefer this over the Golden Rule, “do unto others.” Still, as with everything else in life, its hit and miss.

Of course, I don’t speak of literally teaching a person to fish, rather about educating and motivating to succeed in general. My written work addresses many issues which plague and “hold back” otherwise exceptional people. As a high school teacher, I saw so many “lost” and disillusioned teens. So many lacked the basic motivation and drive to pursue even their most basic education, it was disheartening, almost depressing. I watch so many of my own family members stop pursuing school after high school (I’m elated when I hear of one of them returning, even later in life).

When one drops out of high school, I see it as simply giving up on life. You see, we have a large family; one might say, a large not very well off family. When even one stops reaching for a better life, when one child gives up, it impacts the whole family. They don’t realize it, but it does.

Here is another adage for you, “There is no such thing as a free lunch!” Everything in life has a price. Simply put, an individual’s quality of life depends on how hard they want to work. Back to my high school students. There were the two classes of kids: those with, and those without. But what the kids “without” didn’t realize was, those kids “with” were in reality no better off than themselves. A fourteen year old has not “made it” in life. They may be flashing the iPhone and the Abercrombie & Fitch clothes Mom and Dad have provided them (for now), but that will not extend much pass graduation. Nobody wants to be that 40 year old still living with Momma.

I have family on two continents; and, it is surprising how similar those two families actually are. When my wife and I share stories, it is funny how they are so very much alike. We both grew up in essentially the one room shacks, with multiple people sprawl wherever they would fit. Both of us tell stories of days when there was simply no food to put on the table. Both of us describe the days when a simple thought was difficult because of the hunger we were experiencing. But we also share the stories of how we both got off our asses at very early ages and did what we had to do not only to ensure our own survival, but to make sure others ate as well. I think it’s safe to say, at our present age, we will never, ever experience hunger again, nor want for anything (knocking on wood).

It would be so easy for my wife and I to simply “give” every one of our family members that fish, that day (metaphorically and literally speaking). We could do it. We could buy sacks of rice; kilos of fish, pork, chicken, beef, all the vegetables they could eat. But tomorrow, they would be hungry again, and let’s face it, we may not be here tomorrow.

No. We do not feed the masses. We push the youngsters to continue their education. Sometimes we help with that only because that falls under the “teach a man to fish part.” Still some refuse to even do that. We have our share of high school drop outs, and we have our share of college drop outs. Even the heart breaking kind; those who lack that one semester, and even that one class for their diploma; but that’s okay. We never give up on anyone. We never lose heart, only because we know, one of these days, those hunger pangs are going to hit home. Living in that crowded one room shack is going to get old. Waiting for someone to feed you is not going to cut it. The extended hand will remain empty, and the reality of life will become clear.

I said it was a hit and miss proposition, and yes, we have those who are struggling, doing without, but signing up for that next course. I’m not saying we have favorites in this family, but these motivated and focused young ones do have our attention. And finally, we have those (the graduates), who no longer need our fish, only because they now have the knowledge and the skills to catch their own (and are). Nothing is more satisfying for a parent, grand parent, aunt or uncle than knowing a child they watched grow up, no longer needs their help (or fish). They are going to be okay.

Some people call it tough love; some call it abandonment; we call it teaching kids that a person isn’t dealt a bad hand in life, a person simply live the life they choose for themselves. So when someone pouts because we say no to buying them a “smart” phone, or a “notebook,” it doesn’t faze us. If a child can learn how to fire off a gazillion text messages and master Facebook, they can enroll in a class, learn a trade or profession, and buy their own “smart” phone, because in this life, “standing by” believing that daily fish is coming is foolish indeed..

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

A Word (or two) About Our Lives...

I had initially intended to post this as a Facebook (FB) status update. Note below, I even open offering these words as a “short” expository. I actually uploaded for a short time, but soon enough realized, FB is not the place to post expository statements; FB it is an exchange forum where anyone who reads your words can and probably will chime in via the “comment” box; if not that, respond with a “Like,” or worse, totally snub you in any of the many ways FB makes available. (I know, I've snubbed people!)

Simply, if anyone did any of those things, this work wouldn't be expository; it would be a conversation. For as everyone knows, an expository piece is rhetorical. It is a statement of position, a declaration of fact, and those are not debatable or open for discussion. So here then, is my “short” expository post.

As many of you know, we are vacationing in the Philippines; The Pearl of the Orient. We left the United States in late February, and don’t plan to return until September. While technically we are “tourist,” and as such, take as many pictures as we can and share them via FB (now those you can comment on!), that is not all we doing here. For we are also home in that we hold many properties here, including the family homestead here in Pistola, Oas, Albay.

To all who view our pics and videos, it would appear that we are having the time of our lives and enjoying our lavish life to the hilt. But the truth is, had I fulfilled my pre-travel preparations, everyone would be better aware of some important aspects of our visit. Nearing the half-way point of our trip, I will now share what I intended to share in February, before leaving Texas.

This statement is for everyone that calls us family and friends, no matter where in the world they may be. While we are officially on vacation; it is in actuality a working vacation for us. Yes, we are enjoying the house in Pistola, but we are also working daily on its ongoing construction. Each and every day we spend some time tiling, installing electrical connections, and doing plumbing work (just to name a few). A couple of times a month, we jump in the van and head to the hardware store in Legaspi City, and it is costly.

Next, I’m going to offer some terms for your independent research and personal edification: Alzheimer’s, COPD, PTSD, Panic Disorder, GI Disorder, and Osteoarthritis (not the complete list). Look them up and understand them (Wikipedia works for me); read closely how these disease and disorders affect a person, and what the treatments and home care considerations are. Go ahead; I’ll wait…

Done? Good. Because that’s also part of the working part of our vacation. This family deals with each and every one of those medical conditions, some of them advanced and acute, each and every day. So, while we do have our fun; we are also providing appropriate care and treatment for all those conditions. Guess what? It is costly.

Fortunately, we are blessed with sufficient monthly income to allow us to provide everything that is needed by everyone afflicted. To many people, however, we are simply the Americans with money! What they don’t realize is with getting some work done on the house and making sure everyone stays breathing, we do run short sometimes. But everyone gets their meds and we put nourishing food on the table and we pay the bills. And yes, it is costly.

Those of you blessed with good healthy families probably can’t imagine what I’m saying, or probably think I’m exaggerating the list of ailments; but believe me, we wake up every morning watching each other for signs of deterioration, or some acute symptom, some odd change in behavior. We have spent a few days getting chest x-rays, lab test for this and that, and at the pharmacy for medications, and more. Basically, what I’m saying is, our lives are not all the fun and games and road trips we proudly post. We like our fun, that’s true, and we love visiting family, and will travel to do so, but we cherish our health more, and that will always be priority one.

Now, for the sticky and sensitive part of this the piece.

Due to health considerations, an important rule, for every one under this roof, is that the house will be clean. Check that; the house will be very clean, damn near hospital level. As you can imagine, with work ongoing, drilling and painting, concrete and tile work the house gets very dusty daily. So, our house requires a lot of daily cleaning, and in that it is a good size two story house, the rule is if you stay here you are expected to do your part. Our house isn't a Bed and Breakfast; it isn’t a hotel/motel with room service; it is a house filled with people who need a clean house.

I’ll take that a one step further, because of the medical conditions we care for, especially the respiratory cases, and that’s just about all of us, our house has to be almost sanitized. In considering those with borderline dementia, who can wander disoriented (and do at 2 and 3 a.m.), if the house isn’t tidy and clear of cluttered, the person can be injured or worse. As for the PTSD and Panic Disorder, if they feel there is no concern or support by others for the cleanliness of their house, they will (quickly) escalate verbally and emotionally (we try to avoid this one at all cost, but damn if it doesn't catch us off guard!).

Sounds like fun living with us, doesn’t it? You want to come visit us today, don’t you? Well, first read on, because here is my point of this post.

Our house is open to all visitors, and we have enjoyed many to date. (No, we’re not infectious!) Family, friends, neighbors, “born again” church people, Catholic priest, neighborhood kids have been in and out, most come to eat and run, some have stayed for days, others for weeks; most fall quickly into our daily work routines with no problems, cooking delicious meals for those working, or cleaning this or that without complaint; hell, everyone likes a clean house, right? But then, others? Uh. Not so much; which is fine too. We don’t post cleaning assignments on a bulletin board; we don’t hand people mops and buckets, hammers and mortar. But we do ask and expect that people simply respect and understand what we must do on a daily basis. We have had some walk away, unable to deal with our (demanding?) routine and house expectations/rules, and that’s okay too; to the outsider, we probably do actually resemble a boot camp for troubled kids (just kidding). Believe me, we all wish life could be spent on the duyan, texting and drinking ice tea and gossiping, but that is not our lives at all. We live the lives we do out of necessity; one could even say, for the sake of living at all.

Only on one occasion have we had to ask a person to leave; not to be mean or rude, or even disrespectful, rather out of fairness. We simply cannot allow a young, healthy, and able person (not family) lounge around texting, waiting for the next meal, while the rest of the household (mostly family) toils and labors around them. That would be disrespectful to our family. And while there are no direct monetary rewards, people who stay with us do eat well! And often get to go on our little trips here and there.

Again, if I’m preaching, I’m preaching to the choir. I know that. And I’ll use our present visitors as an excellent example of what we need people to understand about this family. Two young ladies on break from college have been staying with us; one is family, the other, one of her classmates. We expected the family member; we did not expect the classmate. But we have plenty of room, and so it was no problem for her to stay. Now here’s the best part. Since their arrival, we have never had to ask them to do a single task; we have never had to ask because they have taken the initiative to look around, see what needs to be done, and simply do it.  They have cooked outstanding meals, then scrubbed and sanitized the kitchen floor. I know this only because once I was ready to walk on that sanitized floor and got one of those, “I dare you to step one step further!” looks. I went around. They have also acted as attendant to the elder in the house (not an easy task), feeding him, scrubbing down his room, washing his bed sheets. When we planned our recent beach trip, they were there helping organized and prepare all, going and coming. And when it was birthday party time, they decorated and prepared the table. What was impressive was the unexpected guest was cleaning, cooking, and scrubbing right along with the family. What was even more impressive was, with all they did to help us, their smiles never once faded. They could have been enjoying a school break in Manila, but opted to stick it out with us. When the PTSD/Panic Disorder launched into high gear over whatever, they didn’t retreat to safety and seclusion or take offense; they just continued with their work and just seemed to understand. All this and they didn’t know a word of what I am posting now. Kids, just when you think you've got them figured out. Anecdote: In preparing to leave, the student expressed her appreciation of our hospitality and kindness; she thanked us for accepting her as one of the family. We almost screamed, dear girl, consider yourself adopted!

All our visitors come and leave, as our two young guests now prepare to return to their college studies in Manila, but we of course will remain here in this big house. Life doesn't change for us; this life will never change for us. We have to stay and work things out as best we can, we have to continue to support each other as best we can, deal with the good and the bad days and make sure everyone is safe and fed, as best as can, with or without anyone’s help. People have whispered rumors that some do not plan to visit us because of the expectations of contributing, the laborious demands and worse, the personalities living here. If that is true, then such is life. It’s true, here in the Philippines, if you have a little money (or think you do), maids and cooks and drivers are common (and expected); but sadly, we do not fall into that category. At our house, you wash your own clothes, and you take your turn in the kitchen (if you want dinner), and if the bathroom smells funky, don’t go asking where the bathroom boy is, ask where the cleanser and scrubbing pad are.

We dread leaving in September, only because the elder is not faring well and will soon enough (if not now) require a full time attendant. Some form of live in, home care attendant will have to be arranged for (oh, I could so go off on this issue alone!). Factor in that person’s salary, all the health care supplies, doctor’s visits and meds, transportation costs and the dollar signs loom like the proverbial approaching storm. But, we’ll do it; we’ll pull it off somehow, at least until we get back, and then, we’ll pick up right where we leave off.

So that’s it. Yes, we’ll post more fun pictures of family and friends and splashing in the water, and climbing picturesque mountains and hills. We need that to keep us sane. And we’ll post pictures of our work on the house, because that also keeps us grounded. And if despite reading this, anyone thinks they are brave enough to walk through our door, well, now they know exactly what awaits you beyond that door. Torture and torment! Okay, maybe not that, but we will keep them busy.


Working vacations are fun! This one is wearing us out; but, God we love this place! We love this house! And more importantly, we love our family and friends, whether they understand us or not.

Monday, April 28, 2014


This exposé of gross dereliction and political misconduct on the part of Bexar County, Texas, reflects a growing trend in this country. Joseph is afflicted with Huntington's disease, a terminally illness which causes dementia and psychotic episodes. A National Honor Society member, a musician, an athlete, Joseph is confronted by three Bexar County Deputies while sitting in the family car. The deputies, aware of the boy's affliction, understanding the family only seeks medical assistance, chase the boy from the family home. Cornering the boy against a neighbor's fence, where he throws his arms into the air, the deputies shoot mulitple times striking the boy three times. All takes place as his mother watches helplessly on. But that is only the beginning of the family's nightmare. Joseph is charges with attempted capital murder, taken from his medical team, and tortured in the county jail.
A Smashwords.com e-Book

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Reading is Essential

As a high school teacher I had the honor and privilege of working some of the most dedicated and hard working students imaginable. No, I’m not speaking of the brainiacks, or the gifted and talented; I’m speaking of the special needs students. These young people struggled in ways you and I can only imagine. They were grossly dyslexic, hearing impaired, auditory impaired, and vision impaired, and suffered with conditions that hindered their lives daily. One young student was legally blind, but she wore her “coke” bottle glasses religiously, and was never seen without her novel in hand; that book was plastered to her face, but she read. Whenever I read to them, whether “Of Mice and Men,” “The Pearl,” or the “Old Man and the Sea” they would struggle to follow along in the book, stopping me often, begging to know our page number and chapter, so they could catch up. The true heart wrenching cases were those who suffered with dysgraphia. Try as they might, the simply could not get their words down on paper. And so my pain and suffering comes from watching capable readers, able readers, not reading. We may be thrilled with our “technology” today, but trust me, the day is coming when we will all be thinking, “what the hell did we do to our kids?” As parents, we have a responsibility, or we used to, and that was simply to prepare our children for life. Well, life demands readers. In this day, there are those who are prolific readers and writers, and there are those who are illiterate, guess which ones will dominate in the coming ages.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

The Truth About Fiction

There will come a time in your life, maybe it already has, maybe it will come tomorrow, but the time will come, mark my words, when you will sit back into your favorite chair, ice tea in hand, and it hits you: you have a story to tell. But, not just any story. Maybe not an easy story to recall. Perhaps just the thought of the formulating, developing storyline makes you smile due to the humorous events involved; perhaps recalling the events that absolutely must be included causes you to choke up, or clench your hands in fists of anger. All you know is the story must be told and no one, absolutely no one can tell it but you.

In either case, humorous or heart felt, you want, of course, to protect the innocent, but at the same time ensure the guilty are fingered; but, this must be done in a politically correct manner. If you come across to judgmental, you are sure to turn your potential readers off; you are no longer telling a story, you are reading a verdict. If you are blatantly one sided, you are just voicing your opinion on a topic. So you have to balance the good with bad, the facts with fiction. Remaining impartial can be difficult, but it is the only way to truly tell a good story.

Fiction of course if the storytellers best friend. Creating that fictitious character just so is an art in itself. You know you've succeeded when you have all your friends and family members asking: is she talking about me? Is that ‘Billy’ character based on my life? If that happens, then you are doing your job as a creative writer. The key to a good story is keeping your characters real and believable. People must be able to say, “I know that guy! I swear, I know that woman!” On creating one of the characters for Letters, my current work in progress, I had four people (privileged to read my initial outline and draft) immediately identified a co-worker as the model for a particular character; they were all wrong. While I do ‘borrow’ likable and/or despicable characteristics from actual people, I do not totally base a fictitious character on a real person. For one thing, it wouldn't be a fictitious character anymore, and more importantly, the character wouldn't be mine.

Likewise, your setting must be just as real and familiar. As your readers walk through the park along with your characters who are conversing, they should be able to say, “I've been in that park! I know that fountain, that bridge!” This happens when your adjectives flow with the pace of the story, painting a clear and vivid picture with every scene. Your reader should be able to close her eyes and see every bright and colorful detail of the spring picnic, or feel the cold and dampness of the dark and stormy night. In other words, the storyteller that can capture and hold a reader from the opening chapter to the last page is good (and rare). The storyteller that can have a reader find themselves at the last page wondering where the next chapter is, is exceptional (or just plain unorganized).

One final technical point. Dialogue. I would guess my stories are 85/90% dialogue. I provide the setting and characters and plot, then let the characters take the reader through the rising action, the climax and the eventual falling action to the resolution (if there is one). Dialogue is where the storyteller can let her characters run a muck. They can say anything in any way they wish, and it’s okay. All the conventions for writing are out the window, so that Billy Bob can rant, “Bubba ain’t gonna lauw dat ta hap’in gin, heh!” And no one can say, “Oh my! Excuse me? That is not correct diction.” Hell, if Billy Bob can get it out of his mouth, it’s as correct as it’s going to get! Important note: describe your characters incidental fidgeting and facial expressions as they speak; it’s okay to interject little bits and pieces of descriptive actions if it will allow your reader to better engage with the action. “Robert nibbled on his right pinky as he pondered his next line. He suddenly jerks his hand away, grimacing and sticking his tongue out as far as it can go; he has realized he hadn't washed his hand after cleaning the cat’s litter box. “Shit!” he spits running towards the bathroom to find his tooth brush.”


I tell you all that to tell you this. I include in every Foreword the explanation that I do not write about talking animals, nor little boys that fly around on broomsticks. I don’t write about secret agents, cloaks and daggers, or space, the final frontier. I write to hopefully present and address a pressing social issue in a storyline that will engage even reluctant readers, a.k.a. young at risk teens and busy, stressed out working adults. While I applaud the writers of fantasy and romance and every other genre out there, I need to know that anyone who reads my words will learn something new; perhaps something they can use in their own lives, and/or share with someone they know. In order to accomplish this goal, I go to great lengths to research my topics thoroughly. My works cited page for Letters grows daily and as of today, list some 108 entries. In that the topic is violence against women and domestic abuse, my challenge (as a man) is to describe the incidents of out and out torture and murder of women in an unbiased, unemotional way. In this work, I question as to whether or not I was able to accomplish that task; I’ll let you be the final judge of that. I considered taking the tempered down road, but remembered that had been done; Hawthorne lightly addresses the witch hunts of the late 1600’s in The Scarlet Letter. The simple fact is, violence against women is a blatant, brutal civil/human rights violation that is never properly addressed. It’s a taboo topic that even medical professionals, medical doctors and psychiatrist shy away from. I do not hold anything back. I know I will be called out on all I write and publish, but so be it. 

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

As for me and my house…

Recently, I have found myself delving into my “faith” more than ever before. I have always been the inquisitive type verse one who blindly accepts the teachings of others, and when we talk about the areas of religion and politics, that raises an eyebrow or two. My parents were Democrats, so naturally I was expected to be a Dem also. My entire historical family tree was Catholic, so I was expected to be at Sunday Mass. And for the most part, I caved in and attended despite knowing well the history of the Catholic Church. Men after all are simply men; some do actually attempt to make a difference, while most are content to just follow along like chattel to an inevitable death. In my predominantly Hispanic neighborhood, and in my predominantly Hispanic schools, to ask questions, especially the types of questions I asked, was to risk upsetting the dominant white political structure; to ask the “religious” based questions I asked was out and out blaspheme. But I always knew I wasn't upsetting, or worse, insulting God. She loved me! I knew She did. And I knew, early on, that all men are corruptible, from the school teacher, to the politician, to the priest. I somehow made it through school, and on graduating, I left home immediately, enlisting in the Navy. I was now in heaven. I explored the world in more ways than one. I didn't just visit other lands, I ran through them absorbing as much about the country and the people as I possibly could. I attended every kind of religious service I could get into. In Italy (of all places), after attending one of the most ordinate services I had ever, I heard whispers of “another” Mass later that evening. The unsanctioned Mass was in a private residence with many in attendance. It was unsanctioned because it was one of the foundational Catholic charismatic movement meetings complete with waving hands, dancing and singing, and speaking in tongues; it had it all. The only thing I could liken it too was a Pentecostal service I had attended. Now those folks knew how to praise God! I learned quickly that there is a big difference between the churches of Man, and the church of God, that is, people who could gather anywhere and just believe and rejoice in Her!  The structured and incorporated religions on the other hand, simply want to sell you God and Jesus, and thereby salvation; pledge your membership, pay your tithes, sponsor a potluck now and then, and you were home free. But again, men are corruptible. It is in their nature. It is an inherent trait that some men use well, especially those who are charismatic enough to make God work for them. The creation of the Catholic Church, the ordination of the first Pope, and the eventual commercialization of the church was not surprising to read about; the Protestant break-a-way credited mostly to Martin Luther and his Ninety-Five Theses, likewise made for interesting reading. Of course, the inevitable appearance of the mega churches and their mega rich and famous, multi-millionaire celebrity “pastors” and their diva wives are the ultimate in (tabloid) reading. But this was the lighter side of my religion research; this was the readily available fodder. Digging deeper, wading through the ancient doctrines and published papers and letters I found what I had only heard about. The formation of the organized church by misogynistic, money and power thirsty “church fathers.” A church that came to dominate nations wielding the cross as a deadly weapon. Now, the darker side of “religion” developed clearly, and as you will read in Letters, is the foundation for today’s continued misogynist attitude, not only in the church, but in society as a whole. It is why men continue to practice violence against women.