Linda Seccaspina's Open Salon Blog

Martin Richard – Awarded Words of Inspiration

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 17:04:15 -0400

This week's Zoomers writer's challenge is to write about giving yourself an award for some accomplishment. Patting myself on the back is not something I do, and in fact I run 100 miles in another direction if anyone ever gives me a compliment.

Why have awards?

Some can have whatever award they win become their identity and then be ignored for any other achievement down the line. Instead of awards we should have accolades for words and yesterday when the Boston Marathon explosion happened there were lots of words being transported through airwaves that no one should have gotten an award for.

I think that my Facebook friend and writer Andy Wolfensen said it best yesterday,

“Even those who seek to write for a living should be without words today.”

Wolfensen was absolutely right and today there are are not enough words for a picture of third-grader Martin Richard. Yesterday the grown-ups let 8-year-old Martin down and he died waiting for some family friends to cross the finish line of the Boston Marathon. To make matters even worse his mother and 6-year-old sister are fighting for their lives. A friend of Martin's teacher didn't have any awards of brave words for him—just a photo she posted on Facebook of the 8-year-old holding a sign that she thought would say it all.

If a picture is worth a 1,000 words, then how many words are in Martin's photo? It breaks my heart I can't tell him what his 5 words on that poster means to me. If only his message could get through to us to become tolerant of one another, holding back our anger and giving up our right to avenge the injustices we perceive around us.

We do have a choice.

We all need to live by Martin's words and I hope the whole world is listening and takes his message to heart. Such few words, yet they say so much, and Andy, you were right, there are no words--except those written by 8 year-old Martin Richard. Teach your children well so this doesn't happen again.

Books by Linda Seccaspina

Menopausal Woman From the Corn

by Linda Seccaspina

Cowansville High School Misremembered

by Linda Seccaspina

Naked Yoga, Twinkies and Celebrities

by Linda Seccaspina

Laundry Babies - Baby BMH 5-7-66

Thu, 28 Mar 2013 18:03:20 -0400

As a child whose mother died young I used to pretend I was adopted to reassure myself there was someone out there that loved me. In reality I can't imagine what people go through attempting to find their birth parents after decades. Almost a year ago I wrote about the black market baby business in Quebec in the 50's and 60's as I had no idea it had even existed. I received an email shortly after the posting from a woman thanking me since information about the Quebec Eastern Townships alleged baby-brokerage market was slowly disappearing from the face of the earth.

A very long time ago my family were prominent members of a local parish in a rural area of Quebec. The year before I left home my grandfather left the church, and the reason given to me by my grandmother was that he had issues with our minister.

The good reverend was allegedly in the adoption business and shuffling unwed mother’s babies around like a conveyor belt. Whether he understood the gravity of his actions will remain a mystery because every last record was destroyed. My grandfather had confronted the man and his small group but was outnumbered and got so angry that he never darkened the church’s door again. I became obsessed with this story and even though it has been over 50 years since a lot of this has transpired I will not stop writing about it.

Surely there has to be someone wanting to tell their story I thought. Some of the now grown-up 'babies” did email me but didn't want their story told for fear of repercussions. Finally someone came forward and this is her story.

The Story of Baby BMH 5-7-66

I was born on May 7, 1966 in the Brome Mississisquoi Hospital, or at least that’s what I’ve been told. I am the product of Baby Laundering, a term I prefer over Black Market Babies and I need answers.

I finally arranged to meet the Reverend (along with his wife) who had placed me up for adoption in 1987. That day I finally realized he was not the man I had imagined he would be. Prior to that I always had an image of a religious man set in his beliefs that he was doing the right thing. Even though he knew who I was I felt the greatest need to introduce myself after he opened the door. His reply to the greeting was simple and matter-of-fact:

“You don’t have to tell me who you are, you look just like her!”

He knew the identity of my adoptive parents, who my birth mother was and the reverend seemed to take a certain pleasure in knowing something I didn't. Deep down he knew what I wanted, and could only muster a sly smile each time he commented that I’d never find out about my past.

His wife remained in the background, never saying a word, other than, “I was the first person to ever hold you." Really, was I born in their house? At that moment I pitied her for living with such a man for so many years.

That same afternoon, he teased me with the knowledge that he had a “little treasure chest of information” about my past in his basement that I would never see. In hindsight, I wished I’d gone into that basement, but I didn't and it was in that moment of time that I hated him even more.

After that discouraging visit I’d heard the good reverend died, so I took this opportunity to contact his wife, hoping she could finally give me some information about my past. Surprisingly she told me she had burned all the adoption records because “people like me” kept “harassing” her. I found her comment to be hurtful and amusing.“I was harassing her” and “people like me” were making phone calls trying to find out about their past when her children knew all about theirs. Later I heard she became ill so I decided not to pursue it. Now I regret that I didn't go after what I wanted and not put my own well being before hers.

Over the years I’ve met other Laundry Babies, and one thing we all had in common was the law firm our adoptive parents used. Assuming they were allegedly in cahoots, my next step was to contact that particular law firm. Not surprisingly, the son of the lawyer who handled my adoption had taken over his father’s position. I told him a tall-tale about my medical condition and requested my medical history. I’m not proud of myself for lying to him as he was not the one involved, but the circumstances had taught me that it all seemed to be a game and if I wanted to get anywhere, I had to play on the same field.

Of course the lawyer knew what I and others had gone through wasn't right and there was no doubt he knew his father had done something wrong. He quietly said his father was very ill and not proud of what he’d done. I knew right at that moment he wouldn't tell me anything for fear of betraying his Dad. I actually don't hate the lawyer as we never spoke and as for the lawyer's son, I could feel the struggle in his words that he was between a rock and a hard place.

Now year after year I listen from a distance from one doctor to another wanting answers to the questions of my medical history. I have no answers and I get tired of explaining why. There are so many “experts” in the field of adoption that tell me I can obtain my medical history if I want it. Since the adoptions never went through government channels my history is not a “form-filled-out request away."

When I was younger, I used my medical condition as an excuse but for some reason now I feel I can’t or shouldn't want both, so over the years I interchange my wants with needs. I make deals with whoever is listening, and never have I asked to have both my background and medical history.

What do I want now?

Today, I definitely need my medical history as now I don’t have to lie about having a condition, I have one.

The only information from my past I have was that after I was born, I was put into a room with the other "reverend's” babies so prospective parents could come look at me. I was told that I was “primo baby material”, had nice chubby cheeks, blue eyes, and that healthy baby glow. Shortly after that I got sick, lost weight, and was taken out of that category of elite babies. My illness was nothing more than an allergy to cow’s milk, but enough to remove me from the top of the baby list and out of that priviledged room.

When I heard this story I questioned the world we live in - that babies could be put in a room and chosen based on their looks and breed like a puppy dog. At my age I’m not looking for mommy and daddy, nor am I looking to find out who I am. I’m seeking to find out where I came from and for the story of how I came to be. I want all of these things as I feel I have the right to know because my past still remains in my present.

Caloren

Epilogue to "The Peacock Adoptees"

So what happened to all these children? The Quebec government had strict laws about releasing adoption information and the rules were not eased up until 1986, but there was no help for this group of children that had been allegedly set up for adoption by this religious man. Everything from hospital records to personal letters from their mothers had been destroyed.

On the Quebec, Canada Query board there are 100's of people still looking for their birth parents today. According to our knowledge - most - if not all the adoptees were freely given to adopting parents. It has been legally noted that Peacock did nothing wrong except he didn't register these children with a social system agency. By the 1970s, the social workers were on his case so badly that the youngest ones were registered with social service.

Compliled and edited by Linda Seccaspina

No videos, no pictures, just words for Caloren

Known Black Market Baby Rings in Canada

Where you can look for Quebec information

Books by Linda Seccaspina

Menopausal Woman From the Corn

by Linda Seccaspina

Cowansville High School Misremembered

by Linda Seccaspina

Naked Yoga, Twinkies and Celebrities

by Linda Seccaspina

Flogging the Golden Globes

Mon, 14 Jan 2013 09:01:01 -0500

With my increasing interest in every poorly written word of the best seller 'Fifty Shades of Grey" I thought I would call my blog "Flogging the Golden Globes" and not "Blogging" tonight I murmured.

My inner goddess says it's really good to see millionaires prancing around in $20,000 dresses and $5,000 shoes again while some can't even find a decent-paying job.

Way to go America!

Do the Golden Globes or the Oscars really mean anything?

They are, however, fun to watch and I do enjoy giggling at unattractive dresses and the acceptance speeches are sometimes hilarious. These awards are all about pop culture, which is more pervasive and infiltrates our psyches more than one likes to think.

Tina Fey and Amy Poehler host the Golden Globes this evening and it's a shame Ricky Gervais is not hosting to call it like it is:

"Are these stars really that vain that they won't wear a coat when it's freezing cold outside?"

"SPOILER ALERT! Daniel Day Lewis wins Best Actor tonight!"

"Does anyone in Hollywood have their original nose?"

7:43- I am ready to begin and my Bell internet needs to rebooted. It's like a day without sunshine if that damn thing does not have to be rebooted. Then I have a mild celiac attack which is a foreunner to bigger things that may come.

7:45- In other news, my dog is sleeping.

7:59- Crap, I am going to miss Revenge tonight. This better be worth it!

8:03- I already missed three minutes. Did anyone say anything funny?

8:04- Do you think Kathryn Bigelow from Zero Dark Thirty could have combed her hair or did her ex James Cameron get that in the divorce settlement?

8:11- The opening monologue was a scream - well done ladies - and you are right! None of us ever plans to do porn!

8:12- Presenter Bradley Cooper cleans up nice since his last media frenzy of having sex in a porta potty. Wait that was Gerald Butler - were they separated at birth? Is Kate Hudson wearing vintage Golden Hawn? That is one matronly dress!

8:13- Was there any doubt that Christophe Waltz would not win forDjango (the 'd' is silent) Unchained and why doesn't Leonardo Di Caprio ever age? I honestly don't see any signs of Botox so what is his secret? Maybe I just don't want to know.

8:20- After a celiac run to the bathroom I notice that everyone is gasping at Eva Longoria's dress. There are no camera shots being shown below the waist so I sense there is some nudity going on with her dress. Above the waist she looks like she bought the dress in a Sears catalog.

8;21- First bleep of the night- someone swore. I have heard worse words on the school playground.

8:22- Catherine Zeta Jones's fillers from her face lift from last year have softened. Did she finally go to aging gracefully rehab?

8:22- Another Sarah Palin mockumentary award won. I bet Palin is seething she lost that part too.

8:32- I had no idea Cousin Matthew's mother from Downton Abbey was in the film Best Exotic Marigold Hotel! Now I really want to see it. Looks like another Love Actually film.

8:33-I have never watched the Showtime show Homeland and Damian Lewis who just won supporting actor looks a lot like Hugh Laurie from the show House. With that note- 5th run to the washroom. I can take my time Homeland won again.

8:44- I have issues with the film Argo but apparently Ben Affleck got snubbed by cat-fighting film directors.

8:48- Where does Adele get that horrible speaking voice from? Some of my dishes just broke!

9:00- Bubba the former President of the United States just made an appearance! As Amy said: "That's Hilary Clinton's husband!!"

9:05- Will Farrell- "Marielle" Streep is just so sassy in Hope Springs!"

9:16- Anne Hathaway wins a 'lovely blunt object" as she calls it for best supporting actress for Les Miserables. Sally Field is seen saying," They don't like me right now- they really don't like me!"

9;25 - Quentin Tarantino wins the screenplay award for Django Unchained and thanks his friends but not Spike Lee.

9:35- Is that really Sylvester Stallone or did they drop a wax figure off from Marie Tussaud's Wax Museum?

9;38- Lea Michelle from Glee looks like she has tanorexia!

9:58- I swear there is a foot trail between the kitchen and the bathroom. Taylor Swift has now been advised to stay away from Michael J. Fox's son by Tina Fey. Oh no she didn't!

10:16- I'm waning. Potato chips are great for calming your stomach. Trouble is the keyboard is so greasy I keep slipping off of it. Jodie Foster- are you in or are you out - and why was the camera always panning to a horrified looking Mel Gibson? Did he not know she was gay?

10:18- Ben Affleck wins the Golden Globe for Best Director forArgo. Take that you cat-fighting directors!

10:32- What is growing on Bill Murray's face?

10:35- Is this show all most over? I feel so Zero Dark Thirty.

Les Miserables just won Best Musical. Do you hear the people sing?

10:51- George Clooney presents both awards for best actor and actress and Daniel Day Lewis and Jessica Chastain win. No surprise there!

10:58-Argo wins best movie!! Thank God- I can get off this chair now.

Again, I wonder how important awards are and I leave you with a quote by Helen Hunt:

"The Oscar sits on some shelf above my desk. If there was an earthquake, I could actually be killed by my own Academy Award."

Goodbye Golden Globes- I'll be missing you until next year!

Cancer Always Calls Collect - Part 5 - One Way Trip to Mars

Fri, 11 Jan 2013 09:01:41 -0500

Last night I looked at a bag on the floor and knew if it was storming outside in the morning I couldn't do my laundry. A kind soul had volunteered to take me but I feel I am not in control. He now lies in the hospital 40 miles away and I cannot visit as a fear of hospitals grabbed my soul years ago. When any member of my family went into a medical establishment they never came out. No one was in control and suddenly I felt helpless living this reality nightmare and went to bed. I have always hated being alone, fearing the unknown and pile pillows around me for protection. At almost 62 I still fear the silence and dark and will never be in control of that feeling.

I dream I am in a strange house and a roast beef cooks slowly in the oven. Apparently it is my new home and an unknown neighbour has equipped it with everything I need. The dream goes on endlessly and I constantly smell the burning roast in the oven unable to remove it. Suddenly I find myself in an old castle that acts as a theme park watching a movie that never ends. I can still smell the roast and everyone seems oblivious to how I am feeling. Running to a large wooden door I attempt to escape and a hand grabs me and throws me to the ground. Screaming I tell them I recently had a stroke and need to be careful. As the ugly face peers at me and laughs the terror and violence does not stop and I realize my mind trauma will go on forever now being immortal in my dream.

The morning light appears through the window and I realize he is not lying in his bed down the hall. Even though he has had no choice of anything the past few days he is handling things a lot better than myself. Some days he feels life is fading away yet he continues to hold on still refusing to pass the torch to his offspring. Mark Twain once wrote that he had been dead for millions of years before he was born and it never inconvenienced him a bit, so why does one still feel the need to be in complete control when none of us will live forever.

Being afraid of death makes some behave irrationally and he feels is unable to share his power and control until he can renew his body once again. But will that happen and can anyone live happily with the inevitability of death? Either way, who wants immortality? I know I didn't in the dream and felt the endless fear.

There is no clear cutoff date when we feel life fading away so we must prepare as in the end we have to make peace with the inevitable. Would people who suffer from Alzheimer or Dementia want to be in a suspended state of "living"? Were they able to control anything before their minds succumbed to stagnation? I have a few years left and would not want immortality, so I let go of all my worldly processions years ago. Even though I had no control over the situation it became the best thing I did in life.

Having faced death several times I know there is nothing to be afraid of so why was I filled with fear in the dream? If you feel you have accomplished your goals that should be enough. The immortality of the individual can ensure the death of the species, so we should let go and take that one way trip without the baggage.

When I woke I immediately felt I had no control over the upcoming day. Looking in the mirror I saw a resemblance of the very troll that was trying to kill me in my dream. I put my feet firmly on the floor and decided to live in the only moment of time which I would have any control over which is now.

Because you just have to get up and try, try, try.

Cancer Always Calls Collect- Part 4- Am I An Adjective or a Noun?

Cancer Always Calls Collect- Part 3- Emotional Crowded House

Cancer Always Calls Collect - Part 2 - Dear Santa

Cancer Always Calls Collect-Part 1

Cancer Always Calls Collect - Part 4 - Am I an Adjective?

Thu, 3 Jan 2013 12:01:47 -0500

(picture from never lose spirit blog spot)

I looked out of the window at a cold outdoor view that probably would not change for months. The outside actually seemed to mimic what was going on inside. That too would not change for a very long time – or would it ever change?

I came to help him, but after last night I finally realized I cannot create miracles. As I had once helped myself through layers of darkness; he must do the very same - but will he? His once existing anger had surfaced again in response to the helpless feeling the chemo treatments leave him with.

Through the years the once silent rage had became vocal, blaming me for everything that went wrong. In his stormy mind he believed that unless I committed to his way of thinking I had no right to any opinions in life.

Now some days he now sees his verbal tirades as a much needed release from his tortured soul. Often his silhouette looks like it has collapsed from sickness and desperation, yet other days he looks at me in earnest and says, “thank you”.

Last night I reminded him once again that no one can save him but himself. I stand by the sidelines wanting to jump in to ease his troubles and pain and I cannot. It doesn't matter how difficult or abusive one has once been - no one deserves to go through this walk of hell alone.

I frequently release my anger silently and realize we are all the same - sick or not. We fall down, get up and do it all over again until our very last breath.

Are we just tubthumping?

Cancer Always Calls Collect- Part 3- Emotional Crowded House

Cancer Always Calls Collect - Part 2 - Dear Santa

Cancer Always Calls Collect-Part 1

Tubthumping
Exhibiting extreme tenacity beyond one's normal stamina

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