#i made this for a bootcamp my friend is hosting

[classy-thief]

🌻 LEO WITH A SHOTGUN!!

[moonlight-tmd]

I was just reading though some of your older stuff and saw mention of a Sparkeater Bee au, though I can't find much on it. I was wondering if you had anymore thoughts for it and which ship you would go with for it. Personally I could see it leaning more ShockBee thank anything with Long Arm finding out about Bee needing extra rations in Bootcamp and helping sneak him what he needs. After he comes Long Arm Prime, he also tweaks their supplies to make sure there's extra energon in there for Bee to have without anyone raising an eyebrow at why the crew on Earth would need so much.

When the Elite Guard goes to Earth, he makes sure to go with them to he can see Bee and check in on him to make sure he's ok. And maybe if Bee ever can't hold himself back anymore and has to start eating sparks, Shockwave can add little... canisters addressed to Bee in the supply shipments. After all, no one would really notice if a few of the bots who are on the cybertronian equivalent of death row decided to "take the process into their own hands". Not like anyone would look for their missing spark, nor would there be any guilt attached to eating someone so evil. Right?

You know, I have yet to have an AU that is purely ShockBee.

This is a perfect opportunity you gave me right here, anon.

Yeah, I never wrote anything about it other that this brief mention because I found Cyberbeast AU to be more interesting. So-

Sparkeater!Bumblebee AU

-in my AU, Sparkeaters are a product of a disease of Cybertron origin. It forces the host to become cannibalistic and lose their sanity and conscious to the point of being hungry ravaging monsters. Each Sparkeater still has a resemblance to their original form as Cybertronian, but more monstrous, famished-looking and with 4 bladed tentacles coming out the back.

There is a treatment to delay the disease, but it isn't enough to stop or fight against it. Cybertron Law and Medical Code was altered to kill anyone who had the disease to prevent endangering the population. Of course, there is no purges like when the disease had its "gold era" but anyone who has the disease detected will be personally hunted down by Elite Guard.

There are few who managed to stay hidden all this time, trained themselves to keep the darkness under control and eat whatever sated their hunger; be it energon, live-scrap or Sparks of those who wouldn't be missed, probably. Bumblebee was one of them. From a young age he was exposed to any barceria since he was living on the streets, but he got the disease shortly before becoming a youngling. He met another stray bot who also had the disease and that's how he learned what he will be now and how to keep it on a leash. Although unlike the rest he never taken anyone's Spark. He refused to hurt anyone like this if there was an alternative. He was a pretty good thief so he managed to stick with energon.

Then he went to boot camp, he hoped that once he will be in Elite Guard then he'll be able to get more ways to sate himself, but life had different path for him...

He met Longarm and Bulkhead, Bee was quite sceptical to the idea of being around other normal bots, he was very aware of what could happen if one got too close and he got hungry. Nonetheless, Bulkhead stuck with him and made him his friend. Longarm on the other hand, he wasn't as pressing to be his friend, the two sorta drifted together until there was friendship. Longarm noticed an odd demeanor Bee had but brushed it off because Bulkhead wasn't any more normal.

One time when they were supposed to hang out, Longarm came into Bee's private room and found the medical documents laying on his berth- he immediately knew they were forged, he himself was using forged papers. When Bee came in after taking a shower and saw Longarm browsing his important stuff he was on high alert, but Longarm seemed to believe the fake medical case and offered to help him out. Of course, Bee took it, he couldn't risk not being able to contain himself.

So Longarm/Shockwave steals significant amount of energon from the supply closet and gives it to Bee. He's not stupid, he's seen bot with similar conditions and connected the dots- he knew the risk of having an afflicted nearby but he also knew of ways to keep the disease at bay... He's grown to like the little bot and wouldn't want him to die because of it. This however didn't last too long- the officers were investigating the cadets about the stolen supplies and found them inside Bee's suite. The scout was suspended but found himself taking shelter in Bulkhead's room. So Longarm kept bringing him the extra fuel, altho this time he was being careful when stealing it.

Bulkhead got him into repair crew then while Longarm stayed to graduate. Bee was nervous to learn he was on the same ship with a medic who could uncover the danger and ruin him. He was lucky enough that Ratchet also believed the professionally forged documents and assigned him the extra rations. He thanked Primus when Ratchet didn't double check the scans he made when Bee got injured. Longarm stayed in contact with Bee, making sure he has everything he needs for his 'defect'.

When he heard about the repair crew going missing he feared Bee has done something- he didn't want this to be true... In the meantime said crew crashed on earth and Bee resorted to eating old car parts and oil from the local scrap yards. It almost tasted like a mech- not that he'd know, it just felt like it would. He... chose not to think about it and just kept himself busy while the energon supply shrank with every month.

While being on earth, Sari got to learn about Sparkeaters when she was talking some stories and stuff about the human version- vampires. She even got to hear the little rhyme that was told to sparklings sometimes so they'll listen to their parents. (this neat post i found) Bee found himself uneasy hearing what others think of them, he felt his own spark stop when he instictively commented that they can't be that bad and that they're still a mech inside. Thankfully the others didn't catch onto it and just kept wondering about Sparkeaters and if there's an actual way to either get rid of them or help them.

Then Decepticons came around. In the short interactions with Blitzwing he suspected he might also have the disease... but the longer the banters between them went Bee realized he's just a weird cannibal and not much more.

In any other circumstances Bee would've hated it but right now he was glad Sentinel tracked down the evil bunch and found them also. Energon was once again flowing... and that wasn't the only good thing.

Longarm spend nearly all his free time searching for Bee or any signs of his whereabouts. He knew the last signal of Decepticons was send just before the encounter of the crew Bee was in so hearing that they've tracked the same signal somewhere further in the galaxy made him eager to go and check for himself- not even if his actual secret-allies are ok, just if Bee's there.

Sure enough, the autobot Blurr he's been paired up with for the mission send him a back-up signal while he was investigating something in the alley- there was Bee, being seized up by Blurr, Long didn't listened the reason for arrest, he only ran towards the mini and hugged him, He couldn't have been happier.

Bee was also very happy, he couldn't get enough of Long's company- more so when he said he's been looking for him all this time. It was very sweet...

They stayed together on earth for a while, Longarm visited often and called him all the time when Elite Guard left earth's atmoshere.

Eventually someone pointed out how much Bee and Long hang out and hinted at there being more than a friendship. Bee denied... Longarm was kind and he did everything to make sure Bee is okay, he hated to admit but he did like Longarm a lot, more than just a friend even, but he couldn't risk hurting him if he knew what he was.

He tried his best to ignore the little gestures, the lingering touches and words with deeper meaning Longarm said when he was feeling vulnerable. He tried to resist, he wasn't meant to have a good life... Yet, Longarm seemed to disagree. He went out of his way to spend as much time with Bee as possible, brought him gifts and any supplies needed without question.

When Longarm took him out on a lone drive around the city... Bee was scared, he knew it shouldn't happen. But when Longarm had them sit on a meadow by the lake and started speaking about how much he cares about Bee, he couldn't muster all the strength he had to turn him away. Bee kept avoiding the question and bringing up all the reasons he couldn't date him- mostly his 'defect'. He froze when Longarm admitted to knowing what he was, he almost couldn't believe when he said he loves him and he'll do anything to help him. And he meant anything.

Bee gave up, there was no point in denying it any longer. Bound to break or not, Bee was gonna be happy for as long as he could with Longarm. So were the others when they found out about the new-formed couple.

For the relationship itself; Both Longarm and Bee know they can't truly be together- sparkbonding or even interfacing is a high risk of contracting the disease. They still find other means to make it work.

I don't think Bee would be so desperate to eat Sparks at any point as long as he has enough energon... but i suppose after the space barnacles incident before the crew was found he wasn't doing good and was forced to stuff himself with as much scrap as possible to shut the internal dread and hunger. The incident after Sari accidentally blasted and nearly killed him left a huge pit in his tank that he couldn't bring to satisfaction... He never had such bad injuries that would require so much sustenance to ease. At that point he couldn't let Longarm near- but Longarm promised, and promises are to be kept.~ The next time he visited he brought a package for Bee to open in private. They both sat in his room, doors and windows locked tight, curtains pulled. Inside was a medical transportation jar with a still-live Spark. At first Bee was scared of what Longarm has done, Longarm explained he gotten it from the "death row criminals" and Bee didn't have to worry... Which he couldn't really do at this point, the hunger rose with each second he stared at the unprotected Spark...

Those who learned to control the disease could make it hasten on command, allowing them to utilize the Sparkeater form(or certain features) while still being themselves. Getting back to normal was a bit more challanging than turning tho... Normally when Bee had to go wild he'd stuff his tank with any vehicle he found on the way until he was good... Now that he was lavished with a Spark containing so much energy and minerals to satisfy him, it was no trouble keeping it down. He almost regretted not doing this sooner. After that the hunger was not an issue- the Spark took a good while to fully digest in his tank... The biggest issue in that time was avoiding Ratchet and his scanner. He was relieved when he felt the other Spark finally give out in him and Ratchet forced him to go take the overdue system scan.

Geez that is long. I blame you for making me wanna write about it more now. Thank you for the ask.

[sphva]

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐋  ♯1

DEC 12, 2021

                                                     𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔲𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 had a smile on her face as she went to take her turn in front of the confessional camera. she adored when she had a chance to talk about herself and even more when she got to vent about her tumultuous life. 

“ what’s good, y’all? i’m sophia rosew— sax. “ (  she let out a heavy breath, rolling her eyes at herself before continuing. ) “ i’m sophia sax and most of y’all know me as a supermodel under CAA and the CEO of 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐃, an intimates collection made for all shapes and sizes. “

“ i started in the industry when i was... 15 ? i did commercials for department stores like jc penney’s and tj maxx for a few years. but that was nothing. i wanted magazine covers, red carpet photos, paparazzi trying and failing to keep up with my every move. so i’d have my friend who had a car drive me to go-sees that were halfway across the city just for them to say i was too short or too dark. yes, i’m just as confused. “ (  she held up her forearm and turned it for the camera. )  “ at 18, that can take a toll on your mental. my family was supportive, but they were convinced it was just a long phase. they didn’t understand why i was going out of my way for something that was ‘never gonna happen.’ and then, at 19, i got the call from a rep at CAA! it was crazy. when i walked my first show i couldn’t imagine walking for CHANEL in milan fashion week or producing my own show for new york’s. i launched rosebud in september 2018, and it did way better than i originally expected. 𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍 was right there with me. ” (  she paused for a moment, reminiscing on her and austin’s early friendship. )

“ we met that summer at a club hosting that neither of us even remember that well. we spent all night talking about work, literally. he complimented my outfit and i couldn’t help but tell him the struggle it was to find the fabric for the top and well.. the rest is history. we were friends for like a year before he asked me to date exclusively, and then in another six months he was taking a knee. i don’t know, sometimes it feels like we moved fast, but i don’t regret marrying him. i love him a lot, he’s like my best friend. launched rosewood cosmetics the next year, and that was a big success. and even when we had scandals and setbacks, austin was there. ” (  she admitted with a slight nod, the joyous demeanor she walked in with had begun to fade. )

“ austin and i work really well together. i’m a lone wolf, i like to do things by myself and work things out alone but he’s shown me that asking for help doesn’t make me weak and neither does saying i don’t understand something. but i’m still working on that. he knows how to be in a team with me but not try and control me, which i’ve always appreciated. ” (  she swallowed the lump that began to form in her throat, trying to think deeply about their problems and why he suggested they come on marriage bootcamp. )

“ i don’t know what the problem is. our relationship has always been strong. we understand that busy schedules doesn’t mean any love is lost. he’s constantly reminding me how much he cares for me. there was a bit of a misunderstanding about wanting kids and when, but we were able to get through most of our disagreements in views. emphasis on most, though.. his family aren’t my biggest fans, but i don’t think that puts too much of a strain on our relationship. but honestly? i think my stature makes him insecure. in the last few months of our marriage, it’s always ‘did you forget you’re married?’ or ‘why are you in his face?’ as if networking isn’t part of my many jobs! and it’s like all this because i put up a fight on taking your last name at first? i took it, and now it’s ‘nobody can tell we’re married’. like this big ass rock on my finger doesn’t tell literally everyone that we’re married. ” (  she pursed her lips and rolled her neck with an attitude, spewing a sassy )  “ hello ! “ (  and standing up before walking out o the confession room. )

[strangestdiary]

Light My Fire | Klaus Hargreeves

Relationship: Klaus/Reader 

Summary: Being back in the 1960s was a lot more comfortable the second time around Klaus comes to realize. 

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of drugs and alcohol, light angst??, fluff, not going with canon of season 2 obviously 

A/N: Uh oh what’s this? Part 2 is possible. This was totally unprompted and I just really wanted to write it so here it is!

Also should I make a tag list? Let me know.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

---

It wasn’t hard to realize what exactly he was doing down here, rifling through your recently stocked cabinets for some alcohol as he muttered to himself. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself while watching him clumsily push some bottles aside, swearing when one or two is about to fall off the shelf.

He backed away from your cabinet with a giddy smile on his face, kissing the neck of a half empty cherry smirnoff bottle. He unscrewed the cap and wiggled his hips a little before raising the bottle to his lips. He was slow to turn around but once he finally did he gasped followed by watery choking and clutching his chest in surprise. 

“Jesus Christ!” He shouted “How long have you been standing there?” 

A smirk found its way to your lips at his reaction. You shrugged, pushing yourself off the entrance of your family bar. “Long enough to watch you raid my alcohol and almost cost me a whole shelf of drinks that would be very expensive to replace.” You shot a playful glare at him and brushed past him to latch the shutter doors closed once again. 

It had been a few months since Klaus landed in your life in a very unceremonious fashion, quite literally landing on top of you in your bed after being spit out by a bright blue light just below your ceiling. You still had a small bump from where he accidentally elbowed your jaw when falling. 

At first you had convinced yourself it was an all too realistic dream produced from the weed you had smoked a little too much of earlier that night. That idea was pushed out of the window the day after when you woke up and the strange man was still in your room, laying in your silk hammock that was nailed up in the corner of your room. 

You both had gotten to know each other in the small amount of time you’ve known each other though, you had taken him to meet your friends who were all too enthusiastic to embrace a newcomer. He fit in well with them though, the smoking circles becoming more lively with him around and the conversations being the most entertaining talks you’ve had in your life. 

He was a curious but wonderful change to your life, and to say you were attracted to him was an understatement. 

Klaus hadn’t opened up to you that much about his past, but there were moments where he would let his walls drop just for a second. Sometimes an offhand comment about a sibling or sometimes indulging you in how exactly he got here in the first place. Everything he provided just sounded like some made up story he had spun for your entertainment. Especially when he would joke about being from the future. 

Klaus may not be the strangest person you had met but he was up there for sure. 

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” You asked, leaning back against the shutter cabinets he had been practically inside of just minutes ago. Klaus watched you curiously raising a brow with a gleam in his beautiful emerald eyes. 

He leaned against the bar idly with a smile playing on his lips “It depends on what you have in mind.” He brought the smirnoff back up to his lips, barely even reacting as the harsh alcohol burned its way down his throat. 

Pushing off the cabinets softly you walked up to him in three strides, a smile of your own threatening to break through “Marry and her girlfriend are hosting a get together in the woods behind their trailer, the usual smoking circle and maybe something else.” You felt him tug aimlessly on the black piano shawl wrapped around your shoulders. “There’s also someone I want you to meet too.” You said just above a whisper, your faces inching closer and closer by the second. 

“Yeah and who’s that?” His smile was breathtaking, his hands coming to rest on your waist. 

“His name’s Dave.” You whispered your lips just about to touch his. Klaus tenses up at the name, his fingers clenching against your waist, his eyes were wide and he was frozen in place. You backed off by an inch or two staring at him curiously “What’s wrong?” 

Klaus shook himself out of his shocked state long enough to look into your eyes, his mind reeling. “Did you- did you just say his name was Dave?” 

You nodded slowly confused why he was so bent up over this so suddenly, “Yeah he’s back home from bootcamp for a few months.” You detach yourself from Klaus to take a step back and look at him fully “He’s one of my closest friends and we kinda had a thing for a while before he left.” You play with your shawl idly trying to find the right words “I would have said something before but it’s hard talking about him without getting myself all worked up.” You chuckled to yourself before bringing a hand up to cup Klaus’ face in your hand, the stubble on his face scratching against your palm slightly. 

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” You whispered studying his face, emotions clouding his eyes. He shook his head against your palm before smiling, taking your hand in his. 

“No I wanna go. I just... I don’t know.” This was the most speechless you had ever seen Klaus in your short time of knowing him. Usually he was jumping at the opportunity to join you and your friends. You remembered that one time when you both got drunk and he told you that he hadn’t felt this wanted and included since being with his ex, he never elaborated more than that though and you never pushed him to tell you. 

“Do you have any pictures of him?” He asked after a few quiet seconds. You nodded with a smile tugging him by the hand to the stairs that led up to your apartment above the bar. 

Once in your living room you walk over to the coffee table, sliding one of the drawers out you grab the thick velvety photo album that has all of your pictures with your friends and you. You sat back onto the couch and pat the space beside you, Klaus didn’t hesitate to sit himself down. You flipped through a few pages before finally landing on the page you were looking for, you smiled to yourself as you picked up your favorite photo. 

It was you and Dave sitting on the same couch you and Klaus were on, Dave’s arm slung over your shoulder laughing at some stupid joke you had told him. You remembered that day so clearly even after getting arguably a little too high, it was the day after high school graduation and you were both practically attached at the hip back then. 

You didn’t even notice you were crying until Klaus’ thumb was smoothing over your cheek. You chuckled weakly muttering a weak apology “It’s been too long since I’ve looked at these.” You said with a fond smile looking up at Klaus. He was staring at you with his own unshed tears. “Are you okay?” He nodded before looking back down at the photo still in your hand. 

“Do you have any more?” The adoration in his eyes was hard to miss when he looked at the picture, you almost wondered if he knew Dave... but that was impossible Dave would have told you about Klaus in some way or another. 

You decided to indulge Klaus and went through the rest of the album, a few more tears being shed by you as you retold the stories behind some of them. Once you were done and closed the photo album Klaus stood from the couch and put his hand out for you now. 

“I have something to show you.” His voice was somewhat strained but you decided not to question him on it. 

He led you to the spare room you had let Klaus sleep in while he tried to get his feet back under him. You stood next to his bed watching him go through the nightstand drawer before sighing to himself and standing. You looked curiously at the dogtags he held carefully in his hand. 

“Promise me you won’t freak out okay?” The skeptical look you gave him made him heave a sigh again, he grabbed your hand and urged you to sit down on the bed, your knees touching as you faced each other. “I know I told you about a boyfriend I had but I never really went into it for... well for reasons, but when you showed me those pictures I knew I couldn’t keep this from you.” You noticed his hands were shaking, the metal dog tags clanging against each other. “I need you to hear me out okay?” He looked at you hopefully, you urged him to go on with your hand “And I mean really hear me out even if it sounds so out of this world. I promise you I would never lie about this.” You couldn’t help but notice how his voice was trembling as well. 

You placed a hand on his bicep in hopes to help him calm down “Hey it’s okay. I’m listening to you Klaus. I mean, you fell on me from some blue portal thing above my bed. It'll be hard not to believe you about something you’re this worked up over.” You assured, a smile making its way to both of your faces. 

He took a deep breath before launching into a story about how he was never joking when telling you about him being from the future. How he had accidentally landed himself in the middle of the Vietnam War for ten months and how he had fallen in love with someone along the way. He hadn’t given you the name of the man he fell for but you had a wild guess of who he might be talking about. Everything he described this man to be reminded you so much of Dave, and when the reality of who he was talking about finally dawned on you Klaus had told you how that man had died in his arms, how broken up he was about it. 

“He was the first person I ever really went sober for...” Klaus said, trembling back in his voice again “I mean I had to see him one last time before everything ended you know?” The look in his eyes broke your heart. He looked back down at the dog tags clutched in his hands before looking back up at you again. He handed them to you almost reluctantly, waiting for you to reject him and accuse him of lying. 

You read the name over and over again before a sob tore through your throat. “I can’t believe it.” You whimpered looking back up at Klaus, his own tears streaking down his cheeks. You pulled him into a tight hug and you both just sat and cried in each other’s arms for who  knows how long. 

You knew there was something special about Klaus from the second you met him, the both of you screaming as you tangled yourself further in your blankets as you tried to push off the mysterious man who fell from a blue light in your ceiling. He was just as tied to Dave as you were, his love for your best friend matching your own. 

After the last of your tears had dried you sat back and looked into Klaus’ red rimmed emerald eyes. “So what do you say Klaus, you ready to go meet Dave?” Your grin was just as watery as his was. 

“I’ve been ready.” He muttered, his eyes fluttering and his eyelashes kissing his cheeks as you wiped away another tear that escaped the corner of his eye. 

He let out a chuckle and grabbed your hand “You know you kind of remind me of him.” He said with a wink. You snort and shake your head against his pillows, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m serious, you both are scarily alike.” 

You hum in agreement, turning your head to look back at him “That’s probably why we didn’t work out together.” You muse, smiling to yourself “We would get in these really stupid fights all the time and eventually we just had enough and broke it off.” Klaus nodded in understanding “We were always better off as friends but that didn’t mean we didn’t indulge in a little sharing every so often.” That caught his attention. 

“Oh?” His tone was teasing yet curious. 

“Man, you have no idea. We were both in a year long relationship with Sky, you remember him right? The really cute one with the long blonde hair that likes to cuddle up with people when he’s high?” Klaus chuckled to himself before laying on his stomach next to you, propping his head up with his hands. 

“So scandalous.” He joked making you roll your eyes a laugh of your own floating in the air. 

The night went on and on, the both of your trading stories back and forth going from Dave to what your childhood was like. He opened up to you about his power he claimed to have, the look on his face told you he was all too serious about the horrible things he went through as a kid. It made your heart clench. 

You both talked until finally you both drifted off to sleep one after the other, his fingers threaded with yours. It was comfortable, not being woken by one of Klaus’ nightmares he would have every so often. You couldn’t be more happy where you were.   

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Testimony of Ingo Michehl – assault by Japanese leader caused lung collapse

▲ Camp K, Macaama Hills

• This testimony has been very lightly edited to improve clarity.

STATEMENT ABOUT MY EXPERIENCE WITH CARP, THE STUDENT BRANCH OF SUN MYUNG MOON’S UNIFICATION CHURCH

How I joined

In October 1986, after completing my high school back home in Germany, I decided to travel the United States for three weeks to evaluate universities and to visit my host family in Auburn, California, where I had been an exchange student for 1 year in 1982. After visiting them, I went to San Francisco to meet with one of my “host sisters”, and to then move on to Yosemite, Southern California, Florida and finally back home. (I had a “Welcome America” ticket which gave me four flights in the U.S.)

Having just arrived in San Francisco by Greyhound, I went to Powell and Market Streets to observe the famous turning of the cable cars. As I was standing there looking around, I was approached by two Japanese “students” (though as I found out later they were not students), one of them being a woman in her thirties by the name of Hitomi Kanepa, who, since her husband left the Unification Church, has resumed her maiden name Saito. She is most likely at the present still at the Unification Theological Seminary in Barrytown, New York. She and her companion, Yoshihisa (I believe his last name is Nozawa), smiled at me with a bright and loving smile which rendered me completely unsuspecting, and when they invited me for a “a cup of tea” at their “international student club”. I, considering myself an international student, accepted their invitation.

▲ Powell Street, San Francisco

I was impressed by the luxurious location of this student club in a marble-walled office building, as well as by the people who seemed very energetic, bright, intelligent and ... international. Steve Greene, a British man in his thirties, said that he had been involved in this student organization for about seven years doing volunteer work as a staff member. His altruistic ambition impressed me. He gave me a short lecture about the principles of “CARP” – their vision to unite students from all over based on the idea that truth is universal. Then I was invited to dinner at the “Bush Street Center”, where all of the participants were shown a slide show about a beautiful workshop site [north of Santa Rosa], Camp K (now known as Maacama Hills), with many obviously excited, joyful young people of all nationalities. After dinner we sat together in small groups of 3 or 4. After joining CARP I learned that these groups were composed of 2 or 3 members and one “newcomer” – for the purpose of pushing the guest to go to workshop that night.

We were encouraged to join the workshop to meet international people, to exchange ideas and learn about this exciting new vision. Having been to many music, exchange-program and school-related workshops, I consented to sign up for a 7-day workshop, although it meant altering my travel plans. The high energy at the center, as well as my having been somewhat lonely after traveling by myself for about 10 days, dispelled any doubts regarding this apparently harmless opportunity.

At no point was I told that this was part of Rev. Moon’s Unification Church, a religious organization, and that the purpose of the workshop was to recruit me as a full-time member of CARP, to serve the rest of my life for an average of 18 to 20 hours a day to further the cause of establishing a totalitarian theocracy under the leadership of the self-declared Messiah Sun Myung Moon.

I come from a well-protected, stable family background in Germany. My dad is an engineer, my mom is a loving housewife. I have never seen an illegal drug with my own eyes. I was rather naive and utterly unprepared for this kind of subtle and “loving” manipulation. Also, I had broken up with a girlfriend in Germany not too long before, which had left my heart shattered and vulnerable, starving for love.

In the camp, I was overwhelmed with the love I was shown by members. Everyone was serving each other, surprising each other with little “love bombs” (tokens of one’s affections such as secret notes of affirmation, etc.). I was to believe that is the ideal world family of true love – and I did. I did not notice that I was being isolated from the outside world. The schedule was rigidly regimented, including precise wake-up time, two 2-hour lectures in the morning, specific sports and game times in the afternoon, followed by two to three more lectures, sometimes until 8, 9 or even 10 PM at night. Having had a major in German and English literature in my German high school, and being by nature interested in philosophy and truth, I did not find it odd that we were being bombarded with all this one-sided information. In retrospect, however, this procedure reminds me much of the “thought reform techniques” used on American prisoners in North Korea who were indoctrinated with communism and turned against their own country and its values by the communist regime during the Korean War.

I was deprived of information from the outside world as a frame of reference. And also the location of the workshop was in a remote area, there was no TV, no newspapers and telephone calls were only possible after getting permission and were highly discouraged.

I soon found myself fascinated and entangled with the doctrine, feeling compelled to stay by the message that upon continuous repetition I had unconsciously come to accept. I was unable to overcome the fear I had been indoctrinated with, i.e. the fear of betraying God and of being invaded and destroyed by satan if I left this “heavenly fortress” (or “bootcamp”) that, I had come to believe, protected me.

The fear I had been “injected” with, and my desire to serve God, were from then on often used to manipulate my decisions, to eliminate choices which did not serve the group’s purposes – thus undermining my own freedom of choice.

My leaders in California, including Mr. Aokie (regional director), Myra Stanaecki, and a woman named Jossenta, upon learning that I was scheduled to begin my civil service (the mandatory substitute for military service) in Germany by December 1, 1986, had a meeting, and rather than advising me to return home, told me that ... “I should decide.” Since I had accepted their teaching, choosing the option of returning would have been equal to betraying God and committing spiritual suicide. As a freshly committed new member I would never opt for this choice – and they knew and relied on it.

All attempts by my father to reach me and to warn me, as well as to pressure the leadership of CARP to send me home to attend to my obligation in Germany, were blocked. Most of his messages did not get through to me. My father has kept all the records of phone calls with leaders in California, such as those to the people named above and to Tom Frohlich, which were kept secret from me. I was blocked from all negative information, and at the same time I was being programmed against my parents – that satan was using them to pull me out of the movement, to destroy my eternal spiritual life. My group leader at that time during 40-day actionizing) was Myra. She one day told me that my Dad had called and that I should call him back. But she also prepared me, saying that he might be very negative about the movement, and that my mother and brothers might also respond very emotionally and negatively against the movement – which is a normal form of persecution, since satan does not want us to do God’s Will. I did not believe my parents would not believe me that this is a legitimate group – but to my shock her “prophesy” proved 100% correct – which of course reinforced my faith in her judgment. I was numbed to the pain of my family and friends regarding my decision to evade the draft (which made me an outlaw in Germany) and to stay with the group in America.

After the 7 day workshop it was expected that I would stay for the “formula course”: 21 day workshop, followed by 40-day actionizing, then for 3 ½ years of MFT (Mobile Fundraising Team – soliciting funds for the group by selling products such as “laser etchings”which were pictures engraved on aluminum foil), then 3 ½ years of witnessing ... and then the rest of my life serving the group’s purposes in much the same ways. Of course I was “free to go (or run away)” – and betray God and True Parents!

Apart from inducing me to violate the law in my home country, I was also asked to join the MFT team and to break the American law by selling products without a permit, traveling from state to state, and soon to become an illegal alien when my visa expired. I was not the only illegal alien CARP entertained, working without wages for 18 to 22 hours per day, making an average of $200 to $300 per day. Most of the team members were foreigners (predominantly Japanese and European travelers who had been recruited during their vacations much as I had been.)

All 11 of us slept in a Ford van. We travelled at night and fundraised during the day. We heard of a few other teams who had serious accidents with even some people getting killed because “the driver had been invaded by satan”. What that usually meant was that the driver had fallen asleep behind the wheel. I met several members with severe health problems due to such accidents. And the medical care for them – as later for me when I developed back-problems due to carrying my 25 pound backpack day in and day out – was insufficient, if provided at all. How much more effective is it to have slaves working for you that don’t need ‘physical’ chains?!

Other illegal activities we were led to engage in through our leaders were such things as sleeping with 5 or 10 people in a one person bedroom (without paying the extra amount), sneaking into state parks to sleep there, use the showers and leave before they would open so we would not have to pay. All this was justified because according to Rev. Moon’s teaching, the end justifies the means – and we were working and living to help America and the World.

Rev. Moon himself once stated, upon being asked about “white lies” by a member, “If you tell a lie to make a person better, then that is not a sin. ... Even God tells lies very often.” [Master Speaks: Rowlane Farmhouse, England, 1974] This may account for the practice of “heavenly deception” we were taught in order to accomplish the group’s goals. So when I later went to recruit new converts, I likewise hid the true identity of the group – “for the better of the newcomer” who would otherwise not join. The end justifies the means.

Another example of “Reverse Psychology”: My last leader, Mr. Tetsuo Yoshizumi in Chicago, once came to me after my not having completely followed one of his instructions. He stuck a few hundred dollars into my shirt pocket, pushed me and yelled “I don’t want you in my center any more! You are satan! Go back to Germany – with satan! NOW! Pack your stuff and GET OUT!”

I was shocked! If I obeyed his command I would be committing “spiritual suicide” We had been taught that upon leaving the church satan would invade us completely, he would destroy our family, cause us to become insane or die because of some horrible accident. At meetings we would continuously hear testimonies from leaders about members who would not “unite” with their leaders (called CF’s or Central Figures).

One story the regional director of Chicago, Rev. Hong, one of Mr. Moon’s first disciples, told us was that upon disuniting with his directions, a member’s child had just been born without any ears. Another disobedient member had developed cancer – satan’s punishment.

What would you have done in my situation if you had been indoctrinated with all these very real fears? Well, some part of me was rebellious, saying “OK! If all my work is not enough, and you really want me to leave – I’ll go!” However, another part of me, which was dominated by fear, guilt and low self-esteem which my leader had beaten into me (verbally as well as physically), was stronger. Consequently I lowered my head and said, “I repent! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again!” But that was not enough! He wouldn’t accept it, telling me with an ice cold voice that I was insincere and arrogant – until I cried. Only after what seemed like an agonizing eternity he showed “mercy” and accepted my repentance “one last time! The next time you know what will happen!” He gave me a fasting condition (I believe it was a three day water-fast. At other times it had been 40 hours or even seven days of fasting to repent and separate from satan.

Another time I was just about to do my two hours of prayer conditions which would be finished at about 2 AM – when he told me through his assistant that I had to add another two hour repentance prayer because of some goal I had not accomplished. He added with emphasis that if I “failed”, that is if I fell asleep for even one minute, I would have to do it over again until I succeeded. So, feeling almost dead, I finished at 4 AM that night – only to rise as usual at 6:20 AM for the standard morning service, during which we would be expected to pray with a loud voice. He would listen, and if our prayer was not deep or loud enough, he would rebuke us and make us do it over again.

Perhaps due to my exceptionally high fundraising average, I “graduated” early from MFT, and was sent to Chicago at the beginning of 1989 to witness, that is to recruit new members, at the University of Illinois at Chicago (UIC). After flying to Germany for a very short time to get a new visa, I was enrolled in language school so I could get a student visa. Although I had been promised that I would be able to study, I was later only allowed to enroll at a junior college to take easy, non-time consuming classes in order to maintain my visa. I was made to feel guilty for even spending this time of studying “for myself”, instead of my “public mission”. I was not allowed to pursue a degree, and finally I had to drop school when my leader felt I was spending too much time there.

Each of the foreign CARP members had mailed in 200 applications for the green card lottery, and I had won a green card. Yet, because my German passport had expired and I could not get a new one without returning to Germany, my leader, Mr. Yoshizumi, forbid me to go, saying that I had made some “bad condition” again. It was more likely he knew that I would have to deal with the German government which was still looking for me since I evaded the draft, and that would mean my parents and friends might eventually have gotten a hold of me.

This happened in the spring of 1992. During my stay in Chicago I had to visit a chiropractor for a while because of the severe back problems I had developed during MFT – which I am still struggling with today. Again I was made feel guilty for “wasting public time” and “enjoying the massages while brothers and sisters were working so hard for God’s Providence”. I stopped going. Besides witnessing all day and preparing lectures until 2 AM during the week, I still had to fundraise each weekend, selling pictures from Friday to Saturday. Also I had to sell flowers each Holiday, regardless of the temperature. On Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Eve our flowers, the water in which they were standing became frozen solid. It’s amazing to me that despite the insufficient clothing we only got stiff faces and extremities instead of frost bite. The wind in Chicago gets VERY cold. Since I was a top fundraiser I was fortunate enough to have my own vehicle in which I hid when the weather got too terrible.

On New Year’s ’93 I was “blitzing”, selling flowers bar to bar in Chicago with my Central Figure who was driving the van. He dropped me off at different locations. I could not go back until I had sold out both buckets of flowers that remained – which took me until 4 AM. I remember the empty and sad feeling walking out of a bar I had just gotten kicked out of when I heard the popping of champagne bottles and joyful congratulations when the clock turned to 12 AM and the new year began. I walked outside and ... cried. I felt so lonely and homesick, full of despair and crushed. But as so often I caught myself and redetermined to accomplish my goal ... for God and True Parents. After all, I was sacrificing myself for the sake of the world.

How I left

Having been in Chicago for over three years, I was still having a very difficult time with my leader, Mr. Yoshizumi. I often could not understand his broken English and because I still included my own ideas in trying to accomplish his directions. I could not “deny myself completely” and I still had a spark of self-esteem left, which to him was arrogance. The weekend of Easter ’93, April 9-11, I again had to sell flowers on my usual pitch in South Chicago Heights. However, on Easter Sunday I also had to travel to Quincy, IL, about 6 hours Southwest of Chicago, to conduct a meeting for the network marketing mission I was pioneering. I had planned it several weeks ahead, but the night before, my leader told me that I could only go if I sold out all my flowers except for $20 or $30. So I “blitzed” the bars until about 4:30 AM Sunday morning, trying to sell my last few bunches. Knowing that I had to be in Quincy by 1 PM I stopped, because I knew that I needed at the very least 2 hours of sleep to be able to drive the 6 hours non-stop. So I distributed the last few bunches to the other team members’ buckets, took a nap from about 5 to 7 pm and left. I conducted the meeting in Quincy, slept for about an hour there and returned late at night – only to get up at 6:20 again the next morning, Monday.

As I was washing up after morning service, Mr. Yoshizumi suddenly was standing in the bathroom. He scolded me for disobeying his orders. “WHY did you disobey my order? I TOLD you you could only leave if you sold all flowers! But you distributed some to the other members!” He hit me and pushed me twice. Each time I fell with my back against a sharp, protruding corner of the bathroom wall. I was devastated, too weak and tired to even think. I was angry inside but I pushed it aside. I blocked it out of my mind. It was simply too much to take. Again I had to fast and repent. A day or two later I could hardly walk or breathe because of intense chest pain. Each step hurt tremendously, even each bump in the road I hit while driving the car. But I had to continue to make my appointments and fulfill my mission.

As my pain got worse and I began to feel cold and miserable, I called a Filipino doctor friend of mine, Dr. Juliet Dumlao, whom I had become acquainted with while fundraising. As I described my symptoms to her over the phone, she was very worried and said I should go to a hospital immediately because I might have had a heart attack. At the time I did not connect my symptoms at all with being pushed against the wall. I couldn’t do that, I replied (because of my mission work), so she ordered me with a doctor’s authority to at least go to bed. I said OK – but knowing my leader I did not do so until 10 PM, after finishing the most important tasks. Nevertheless, when he learned of my early return he ordered me to his office. I said I could not come because I was having cold sweat and I was very weak, but his assistant, Mr. Yone, insisted. So I dragged myself to his room and explained my pain and my conversation with the doctor. He was furious. “How come you are so incredibly selfish? You don’t care about our spiritual children you are killing every day (which meant that I couldn’t “save” or convert them through my lectures) – but you call a doctor for yourself!” He yelled and screamed at me but I was so sick I could only stand there and receive it. When he finally felt it was enough he graciously permitted me to rest some the next day.

All this was still not enough to make me leave, since my commitment was not to any person, but to God and the truth. I could only leave if I came to believe that the Divine Principle, the teaching of the Unification Church, was not the truth, and that Rev. Moon was not the Messiah. Thank God, this lifesaving information was finally supplied by a Christian engineering student at the UIC campus. I met him when I was distributing flyers, and on our first appointment on April 20th and in following meetings he pointed out to me that the DP is in clear contradiction to the Bible. Finally I came to realize that the DP could not be the truth, since, because we believed in the Bible as a revelation from God, He cannot contradict himself with a later revelation.

I left on Mother’s Day, May 9th, after selling out over $2,000 of roses as my last commitment to the church. Lesly, whom I had informed about my intention to leave and had asked for a place to stay, was able to oblige, so I stayed with him for a few days. However, because I was still coughing, we went to the Lawndale Christian Health Center in Chicago. I was worried that I might have picked up a tuberculosis virus. The test turned out negative, but when the doctor did an x-ray, he noticed that my left lung was collapsed to almost 20%, which was at the border of being fatal. He said, if I was lucky it would reinflate by itself, but if it had been more than 20%, I could have died. Puzzled about the cause he asked if I had had any trauma to my back recently. At first I denied this, but when he illustrated his hypothesis, I realized that I had indeed received a trauma injury recently, which I had completely blocked out of my mind. It was the incident in the bathroom when my leader had pushed me!

Since the incident had already happened almost a month previous, the deflation may well have been over 20% at the time. He said that I should wait for about 10 days. If it did not reinflate by itself by that time, he would need to introduce a hose through the back to suck the air out and reinflate the lung. I was terrified, but fortunately it DID reinflate.

Back in Germany, the prosecution against me was still under way, but thanks to indescribable efforts on part of my dad, the government finally dropped the draft and I only had to pay a $1,500 fine ... on top of the approximately $15,000 to $20,000 my dad had spent in lawyer’s expenses and phone calls, etc.!

Summary of some of the unethical practices I experienced during my time in CARP/the Unification Church:

a) Fraud – The deceptive, manipulative tactics of recruitment, including mind control, used to get and keep me in the group and the hiding of the true identity and religious nature of the group. This cost me the loss of seven of the most important years of my life, during which I could neither get a proper education nor earn any money for my future family.

b) Assault, personal injury and mental cruelty – such as the bathroom incident, etc.

c) Health problems as consequence of rigorous fundraising requirements: back problems (lower back pain, worsened scoliosis), extreme tension headaches, sleep disturbances. I almost died after my pneumo thorax condition because, like several other members I know of, I was forbidden to see a doctor.

People involved:

Tetsuo Yoshizumi 
(my leader in CARP who assaulted me)
 Unification Theological Seminary
, 10 Dock Road, 
Barrytown, NY 12507
 (his last address; I was instructed to use his name to do the network marketing business)

Jim McAuley, M.D. (the doctor who examined me)
 Lawndale Christian Health Center
 3860 W. Ogden Ave.
, Chicago, IL 60623


Juliet M. Dumlao, M.D. (the Filipino doctor)
 1159 Westgate
, Oak Park, IL 60301


Note 1. I still have the copies of my X-rays which show the partial lung collapse, and the doctor at the Christian health center, as well as Dr. Dumlao should be able to verify my claims. (Dr. Dumlao was the doctor I first called when I could hardly walk due to the pain in my chest – a day after the incident where I was pushed against the wall.)

Note 2. The “Women’s Federation for World Peace” is founded and headed by Mrs. Hak Ja Han Moon, Mr. Sun Myung Moon’s wife. Although to the public it is declared as being “separate” from the Unification Church, inside the group it is viewed as the same. It is a means through which to recruit new members and gain public respect. According to speeches of Mr. Moon it is OK to lie to the public because “the end justifies the means.” A practice known as “Heavenly Deception.”

____________________________________

Ingo Michehl has a website:

Introduction: http://minet.org/www.trancenet.net/moonism/intro.shtml

Unificationism/Moonism
: A Threat to Democracy, Freedom ... and Families http://minet.org/www.trancenet.net/moonism/index.shtml

"Blessing" ceremony in Washington, DC http://minet.org/www.trancenet.net/moonism/wedding.shtml

Deutsche Seiten http://minet.org/www.trancenet.net/moonism/deutsch2.shtml

He has many other pages which can be explored.

____________________________________

Moonwebs by Josh Freed (the book was made into a movie)

Video: Ticket to Heaven movie

Barbara Underwood and the Oakland Moonies

Mitchell was lucky – he got away from the Unification Church

My Time with the Oakland Family Moonies – by Peter from New Zealand

Crazy for God: The nightmare of cult life by Christopher Edwards

Ford Greene – the former Moonie became an attorney

Papasan Choi and Boonville’s Japanese origins

[andcontemplation]

You’re so cute and amazing! What do you think happened between Hopper, Joyce and Lonnie when they were young? Do you think that Joyce didn’t love Hop romantically in high-school? Or they were in love, but something went wrong(like what?)? Why she fell for Lonnie?

Aw, Anon, now I’m blushing! Thank *you* for being so sweet and kind!

This question… is my whole world. Seriously, not exaggerating. I think about this a lot since it’s the plot for the fic series I’m (slowly) writing. 

Spoilers for the first half of Time in a Bottle below... (specifically Stand By Me and an updated version of Paint it Black which will be published soon) 

So, disclaimer -- my head canon is that Joyce and Hopper are a bit younger in the show than the actors are in real life. I like to think that they graduated HS in 1965 just because it seems to fit in well with actual real-world events and the kid’s birthdates, etc.

I’ll try to keep this history brief, and in point form so I don’t get carried away here lol 

Hopper and Joyce grew up across the street from each other and were best friends from the time they could walk. Their dads were military buddies, until Joyce’s dad died in the Pacific Theater when she was just a baby. Their mother’s remained very close over the years. Hopper’s dad didn’t approve of Joyce’s mom’s lifestyle and marrying again so soon after his friend died though, so there was always some hard feelings there as the kids grew up.

Lonnie was friends with Hopper first, in elementary and middle school. He picked on Joyce and pulled her pigtails, shoved her in the dirt, even though Hopper did it back to him in retaliation, Joyce’s protector.

When Lonnie started to take a real interest in Joyce in high school, that made Hopper jealous and started the rift between them.

Joyce always liked both guys, but in different ways and at different times.

Hopper was her best friend, and they did everything together. He was her first crush at eleven years old, before that was quickly squashed when he told her girls were gross, and also her fifth crush later on when they both started dating in their early teens. Hopper was dating all the pretty blondes though, so Joyce just figured she wasn’t his type and moved on from her little crush, no hard feelings.

Lonnie was the cool, older bad boy in Hawkins (he failed a grade) and Joyce wanted to date him primarily to piss her mom off, but also because he was different than all the other guys she knew. There was something brooding and aloof about him and what teenage girl wouldn’t fall for that stereotype? She didn’t have a crush on him until grade eleven.

Lonnie dates Joyce first, in their senior year of HS, but only because Hopper is too nervous to make a move. Hopper always saw Joyce as a BFF first and he didn’t want to throw a lifelong friendship away just because he had some feelings, if you know what I mean. Still, he finds himself looking at her in a new light now that he can’t have her.

Lonnie treats Joyce like crap though, and she realizes what a jerk he is and breaks it off… the week before Prom.

Hopper asks Joyce to go with him so she didn’t have to skip it or go alone. This stirs up that old crush in Joyce and she realizes her true feelings for her best friend.

They share a perfect kiss at Prom (some trauma too when Lonnie catches them!) and start dating soon after. 

Joyce and Hop spend the summer after highschool completely and utterly head over heels for each other, in a way only young lovers know 🥰 (”Summer lovin’ had me a blast...”)

Even though things are going well between them and he doesn’t want to break it off with Joyce, Hopper enlists for the army to fight in Vietnam, mostly due to pressure from his dad and his peers wanting to go get it over with since a draft was looking to be inevitable by the fall of 1965. Hopper doesn’t think he’ll get called up right away, but he does and has to leave.

Joyce is devastated, but she promises to wait for him and they write each other every week. And they do at first, and become very close; opening up about stuff that they couldn’t even admit to themselves in their love letters. Slowly, as he finishes bootcamp and then special training, he starts to write less and less as things become more and more stressful for him. He doesn’t want to worry her about the shit he’s seeing.

Eventually, he’s facing combat in Vietnam, when he tells he doesn’t think he’ll be able to write for a while. His letter mentions something about a girl named Hannah, who told him to give up, and he just sounds so unlike himself… Joyce isn’t even sure it’s him writing to her any more.

She’s worried about his change in demeanor and upset that he’s seeming ghosted her for another girl (not realizing he was talking about Hanoi Hannah — a propaganda radio host used by North Vietnam to demoralize the US troops.)

A few weeks later, right before Christmas 1966, the awful news comes that Hopper went MIA in the jungles of Vietnam and is presumed dead. Joyce is completely destroyed by this and mourns him.

Lonnie comes back into her life soon after. He sees Joyce is not her usual self and tries his best to make up for being a jerk to her in high school. He asks if they can give it a try again and says that she was the one that got away. He thinks he’s in love with her. She’s the only woman who can clean him up.

Joyce is hurting, her self esteem is nowhere to be found and it’s a bit flattering to hear all that, so she goes along with him, wanting to feel something other than the hurt she feels losing Hopper. She parties hard with Lonnie and his friends, and goes through a bit of a wild streak fighting off her own depression.

A month or so later, Joyce finds out she’s pregnant with Jonathan. Lonnie does the right thing and marries her right away and indeed, he does clean up for a while, in preparation for being a dad. They have a blissful honeymoon stage and are as in love as they can be (considering Joyce is still heartbroken about Hop and it’s Lonnie we’re talking about lol)

While Joyce is in her third trimester, the town of Hawkins gets a shocking bit of news. Jim Hopper is alive! He had been assumed dead when the army found his dog tag next to another man’s body who had stepped on a landmine. In reality, he had been taken as a POW and held for the last eight months by the North Vietnamese.

Joyce is relieved to hear Hopper is okay, but is sad that she has moved on without him. She comes to the conclusion that everything happens for a reason and tries to feel content with the path she’s chosen for herself.

Jonathan is born at the end of 1967 and Joyce falls in love with the new little man in her life.

Hopper is treated in a hospital in Saigon. He’s due to be honorably discharged and sent home if he wants, but when he finds out Joyce is starting a family with Lonnie, he volunteers to stay for another tour.  

When he comes back to the US in late 1968, he stays out in California for a bit, hanging out at Whisky-a-go-go, following the Doors around Los Angeles, sleeping with all the hippie chicks and generally just getting into trouble. 

In 1969, he meets Diane, his nurse at the VA where he’s being treated for his PTSD and they start dating. She wants to move back home to NYC and become a teacher. He plans to follow her...

Phew! That’s a lot...

Hopefully that answers your questions :) I have more history written down that spans 1970 through to 1983 but I will leave it there for now since this pretty much encompasses my head canon for high school/post-high school Jopper (and this post is long enough already lol.)  Thank you so much for the ask! It was fun to answer, and a big help to get it all out on paper in a linear timeline instead of my usual messy notes :)

[malgal7777]

Hiking with Tracy 2021:  Weekend 3, the Lost Weekend

As I went back to re-read my blog I noticed I had cut off my WHOLE weekend of 4/17!!  This is my 20 mile walk from the Emeryville Marina to the Richmond Marina and back via the Bay Trail along the water & Hwy 80.  So let me try to reenact my journey!

The theme of this hike was “Don't tell me this town ain't got no heart, you just gotta poke around” - Once again I tip my hat to the great Jerry Garcia.  Not sure if you all figured it out, but I love Jerry.  I came to the Bay Area to follow the Grateful Dead’s music and I never left.  

This particular hike was absolutely beautiful.  I wish it wasn’t so I can mix this blog up, but sorry folks, you live in a beautiful area.  Even along a dirty highway, there are things of beauty all around you.  Take for example this hike, wildflowers everywhere.  Even popping out of the sidewalk.  I'm reminded of Jeff Goldblum’s character in Jurassic Park...”Life refuses to be contained...it just finds a way”.  And sure enough, Sunflowers out of the sidewalk!

Since I was next to a highway, I went with headphones this time around.  One of my positives during this pandemic is my rekindled love for music radio stations.  I love listening to a radio station and I definitely have my favorite DJ’s. My personal favorites this past year were:  WWOZ - a local New Orleans station; KCSM - a Bay Area jazz station and KXT - out of Dallas, TX.  These stations literally kept me sane during the lockdowns.  I highly recommend them, especially if you’re cooking, doing chores or working in the garden. 

This particular morning I went with WWOZ.  And what a good decision that was.  Ron Phillips was spinning his favorite Saturday morning tunes and I was going down the road feeling BAD (as in good)!  Irma Thomas, Anders Osborne, The Subdudes and a little known singer/songwriter out of New Orleans, Chris Smithers.  If you get overwhelmed and about to burst...stream Chris Smithers “Let it Go”.  So funny.   Anders Osborne is a name my friends have been trying to get me into for a long time.  And I’m a bozo, definitely missed the boat on this one!  From his new album, try this song:  Welcome to Earth.  

Ok, so I digress!  Back to the walk.  In one of my last posts, I mentioned the people I meet.  Well this am was a doozy!  As I was grooving to the sweet sounds of the Crescent City I was approached by a group of ladies.  They had a question for me:  What’s more important in a relationship:  Love or Economics?  My first response was “Wow, you ladies don’t mess around for a Saturday morning!  Going deep on me”.  But, because I’m me, I had an answer. Now usually I would have said Love, Love, Love.  Hands down right?  But they caught me at a weird time.  I have been obsessively thinking of a comment I overheard from another group of ladies while doing my Diablo hike.  One of them had commented “I have no desire to marry just for love.  Forget that, I need to be economically stable”.  My reaction was pity for this poor girl.  I literally felt sorry for her.  The more I thought about it (obsessively for two weeks) I came to realize, she didn’t necessarily say she wasn’t going to work, she just wanted someone with their shit together and would contribute to their family being comfortable.  What’s wrong with that?  Is being comfortable taboo now?  So when my Bay Trail friends asked me, that’s how I answered.  Love was great but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be comfortable, isn’t that love after all?  I obviously made one of the women very happy.  She loved it.  The other two nodded and smiled, they were on Love’s side.  So we said our goodbyes and I felt like I had gotten a weight off my shoulders.  As I was walking away though...I asked myself...But didn’t YOU marry for love?  And sure enough, I did.  Bob & I didn’t have a pot to piss in.  And while we’re not the Rockefeller's, we’re comfortable enough for us.  I love him dearly and love has to be the basis that you build your financial future upon.  If you don’t have that, it get’s ugly when $$ is involved.  The best part of this moment was that song “Welcome to Earth” was playing as I was coming to this realization and the last line is literally “Love is always the answer”.  The Universe works in mysterious ways!  But, where were the ladies...I wanted to change my answer??!!  No where to be found.  Man, I blew it.  I would now obsessively think about this for the next 20 miles. Told you I was a bozo. 

By this time I had reached The Albany bulb.  A Bay Area gem to the north of Golden Gate Fields.  There’s a great beach and then it jets out into a peninsula which is covered with art installations all over.  I’ll talk more about that later, since I came back on Sunday to finish my 25 miles. This morning though I watched a group of swimmers about to enter the freezing bay waters, no wet suit mind you!  CRAZY and No Thank You!  Brrr.   Next Stop, Point Isabel, dog heaven.  A large open spaced off-leach dog park.  I go there all the time.  If you have a dog, you should take them.  They will love you even more than they already do. 

Now past Point Isabel is where the trail gets interesting.  You start to wander away from the highway and are now among the prettiest beaches and marshes. It’s an interesting view of the Bay Bridge and you can no longer see the Golden Gate Bridge as you veer north of it.  You now start to come upon single family homes along the trail.  You’re instantly reminded of Cape Cod.  A ocean view from Richmond, CA.  The best part is once you see this neighborhood you know you’re close to the marina.  And sure enough, I turned the bend and there in front of me was the Ford Assembly plant, my 1/2 way point.  But, it’s a very cruel joke.  You see the plant across the opening of the marina, it’s literally right there!!  Then the realization hits you in order to get to it you need to go around the WHOLE marina.  And as you continue to walk and go around another bend, the sidewalk gets longer and longer and longer.  The Richmond Marina is HUGE. Lovely though.  Large green spaces with people doing yoga;  a ladies bootcamp class along the water; boats coming and going from the marina and two pretty cute restaurants also along the water.  

I finally made it to the Ford Assembly Plant and now Richmond Ferry Terminal.  The assembly plant hosts seasonal events, we’ve been to the women’s roller derby ones.  Nothing like watching tough chicks bully each other on roller skates.  Then there are a few businesses strewn throughout the building.  Dolls Kill, which I believe is a clothing business for those on the freakier side of the spectrum.  And Mountain Hardware!  Quality clothing for the outdoorsy types.  I should have gone in and gotten a windbreaker.  The wind was pretty brutal.  

The best part was of course the Rosie The Riveter museum.  A museum dedicated to the women that left the kids at home and joined the workforce to help build ships during WWII.  This whole area was built for the war effort.  Richmond grew from 25,000 to over 100,000 within three years!!!  Can you imagine?  How does any town build the infrastructure needed to maintain that population?  Grocery stores?  Clothing? Schools?  Highly recommended.  It’s a suggested donation, so don’t be cheap, donate.  You won’t be disappointed.  I once brought Charlotte and a couple of her Girl Scout troop there to meet a real life “Rosie”.  She told the girls her story and it was of course about LOVE!  The trials and tribulations of her and her partner as he was fighting in the war and she was here making the ships that would keep him safe.  Man, where were those 3 ladies!!  

The way back was pretty much the same. I made it!  Now onto Sunday, 4/18. The Albany Bulb!  A Bay Area gem.  Bob & I have been coming here for years.  Way back when it was a landfill full of broken concrete slabs and rebar.  Some artist types took it upon themselves to start living there.  They kept the concrete slabs and rebar and started to make installations out of them.  Giant sized figures;  rows of wooden paintings; mazes and one guy even built a concrete castle along the water facing the Golden Gate Bridge.  Best real estate in the Bay.  They exemplified the phrase “one mans trash is another man’s treasure”.  Of course the stuffed shirts got wind and kicked them out.  But gave the stuffed shirts an idea...Hey, why not make a park out of this dirty unused lot?  Duh.  So before you harass your kid for taking art classes, remember it’s usually the artists who push the rest of society in the right direction.  

It’s also a great place to bird watch and now the wildflowers are a blooming, so it’s quite serene.  If you’re looking for some inspiration, this is the place for you.  

So my posts/weeks are a bit out of order.  Oh well!  It’s my blog and I’ll create chaos if I want to!  

I’ll end on this note:  Love is ALWAYS the answer. 

So sponsor me (hehehe):  https://runsignup.com/tracyalbert/Donate

[bookishbratbabe]

2019 “Best Happenings” Tag

“Every year on Tumblr I see loads of posts about how sucky the year was - and you know sometimes they’re not wrong but I’m not going to forget the good things either.”

“I made this in 2017 and I’m bringing it back! Write about some of the best things / positive things that happened to you this year :)”

Thank you to @cathaveryreads for the tag!

I feel like I really needed this because I was looking back on the year and remembering how hard and sad it was. I was only remembering all of the bad stuff. Between my husband losing his job 3 weeks into 2019, my estranged father dying (bringing up a lot of traumatic parts of my life I thought I had gotten over), and then dealing with some severe depression, this really has been one of the hardest years of my life. And that is exactly why I need to make sure I’m looking back on all of the positive things that happened too.

Winter: I broke my 5 year reading slump and rediscovered my love of books. I got to see my baby sister perform in her first musical (and of course, she did an amazing job).

Spring: I had a memorable date night with my husband (a very rare occasion since our son was born). We went to Melt Bar and Grilled and made cheese puns the entire time. We laughed so hard my stomach hurt (or maybe it was all of the cheese). “Carpe BRIE-em. CHEESE the day!” Went to my sister’s first art show and got to see all of her amazing progress. With the death of our dad, I grew closer with my sisters and I got to show how fiercely I love them.

Summer: Went on my first vacation in my adult life. Went to Outer Banks to celebrate 3 years of marriage with my amazing husband. I got to watch my son experience the ocean for the first time and he loved it. I threw my husband a super soft Letterkenny themed birthday party. Veronica Mars re-boot came out and I got to binge-watch all of the tv series. Hosted an awesome 90’s birthday party for my best friend! AND my band (formed in memory of a close friend lost to suicide) performed its first show and was able to make a donation to AFSP in his name.

Fall: I joined a roller derby bootcamp, which has been a lifelong dream. While I had to leave early for personal reasons, I’m seeing it was an opportunity for self-improvement over the next year to go back for 2020 bootcamp. I hosted an emo/scene birthday party with lots of bangs and eyeliner. I re-joined tumblr and started to do book reviews, which gives me a creative outlet that doesn’t conflict with my busy schedule since I can do it at my own pace.

Winter (again): My son turned two and I hosted my first Friends-giving dinner. I had all three of my sisters and both moms at Thanksgiving dinner for the first time EVER. Had a great Christmas with friends and family. My son started potty training and is, honestly, doing such a good job and I’m so proud of what a big kid he’s getting to be.

I tag: @superalteza666, @xxxlildepressxxx, @slytherin-bookworm-guy, @kt-recs, and @rubyred078

The original post was one highlight per month and I took my best friend’s suggestion and organized by season because some months had a few good things where as others I don’t remember anything during those months. Feel free to organize your highlights however feels right for you!

[teadrunknyc]

We are so lucky to be in each other’s tea journey! After the Tea Bootcamp, Diana stayed with us at the tea house for a few days, helping us through the busy weekend, introducing teas to our customer and fellow tea lovers. We had so much fun! Diana will be returning California this weekend. We’ll for sure miss her and be slightly jealous of the lucky folks who’ll be sipping with her at the tea meetups she hosts. #Repost @dhptea with @get_repost ・・・ had the most amazing life experience at @teadrunk nyc this past week!! ive been self teaching myself before certification, but everything i knew about tea was barely the framework for this bootcamp. the first day made me realize that i knew a lot about gong fu tea, but barely anything much about tea itself. and i realized that it’s one thing to know about tea, but another to really understand tea. super, super grateful for this privilege and amazing opportunity 🥺 i met so many new tea friends!! and i will continue to learn!! and apply what ive been able to learn towards my dream of opening a tea house :’)) (and thank you to my family and friends who have supported me through my tea journey and rough patches :’0 but after getting some experience behind the bar and helping out at tea drunk, i think ive absolutely found my calling!! you’re all welcome to visit the tea house :’)) (at Tea Drunk) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9SD8HVlhu5/?igshid=1dguhf18cufiy

[hyphypmic]

Hey! Can I request a 10 years after headcanons with Mad Trigger Crew? (Same as you did with BBs!) Thanks.

I hope you like this! Thank you so much!

Samatoki

Oh God this fucker is 35

Still yakuza going strong

Still Yokohama bad boy except he’s Yokohama bad man and he’s also a lot hotter

Like think Ryan Reynolds or Chris Evans kinda vibe

He aged gracefully my friends and it makes me want to bang

He also is kind of more responsible, less angry (still very angry, but less)

He’s calmed down a bit and can hold a conversation without exploding

Though he’s a lot scarier now as a yakuza because he’s now mastered the art of deathly calm

Seriously, you don’t fuck with him because his experience is really unparalleled and his gang expanded so much and with his power he keeps them all in iline

He still hasn’t completely buttoned up his shirt, but he has buttoned it up more

Im kidding he’s still a hoe

But he probably has either a permanent s/o (like a wife or husband) or a long-term s/o

May or may not have kids, probably just one and he’d protect child with life

Anyway, he probably made up with Ichiro now and they actually go out and have some fun or train or whatever

Visits the Yamadas and sometimes hangs around with the other brothers

Of course MTC never dies

Can proudly say that he helped Nemu through college and can say that he has a working sister and is really so proud of her

Jyuto

39???? WHAT he’s as old as mu fucking FATHER

Okay my bet is that he still hasn’t given up rap

um… MTC giving up? No way Jose

He still is working for the police, yes still doing the dirty, but I think he calmed down now because he might have a long time girlfriend at this point because he’s matured even more in a sense

Still not above using sex in his raps

Still a kinky ass motherfucker

yeah anyway, he’s calmed down being a dirty cop, but really he still does it, he just doesn’t actively go searching for it

Since he probably has a long-term and long-time relationship (possibly a permanent s/o) he’s more settled down now and isn’t the lonely only rabbit

Teaches at police academy, but like training vibes because really, how is he going to teach the moral standards

but he’s super skilled in his field and he’s lowkey trying to change his ways… so yep

Now the head of tactical because that shit is cool and justo really would be so good for it

Can you imagine him in his tactical gear… yummy

but that’s not really important

still super duper loyal to MTC and really does his best

Still works out and still loves rapping

May or may not have kids, still too dangerous… but he might risk it

Riou

38 damn

okay like this might be kinda funny but legit I have no doubt that he’d fucking have a survival tv show or a survival school or a survival book

Actually he’d have all three

Plus a bootcamp for the kiddies and the teens and training for the adults

MTC still isn’t dead, he still loves doing it

Survival is still life except he likes teaching it now

He’s still pretty calm and non-reactive, but he’s learned to open up and show kindness especially to the kids he takes care of

Really he’s just some sort of den mother when it comes to his junior troops

His tv show is ala Bear Grylls and he even has celebrities starring in it

He actually takes TV show hosts and JPop idols on trips and teaches them survival skills

One time he took the prime minister and it was really so much fun because he knows standard operating procedure so it all went smoothly

As for the book or books, they are super duper useful. They’re like, a survival crash course guide or an elaborate one

Riou has also been used to advertise different survival or climbing gear (I mean, he has the body of a god and the looks of a model and the skill set to go with it!)

Anyway, as for family life, he would be the most likely to have one, like maybe three kids and a permanent s/o or long term s/o

[saintmachina]

What were some parts of seminary that you liked, versus ones you didn’t? I’m thinking about my future (read: freaking tf out) and I know I want to study theology in some way, I’m just not sure how exactly, ya feel?

Thanks for the question! Your mileage may vary: I went to a Princeton Seminary, which I would categorize as a theologically/politically moderate, academic, traditional Western-style seminary. Seminary culture varies WIDELY from school to school, so keep that in mind when choosing between, say, a Princeton, which may be a more insular academic community focused on research and internships, and a Fuller, which may be a larger community more integrated with the surrounding city concerned with practical training for missionaries, worship leaders, and Christian artists. This is NOT to say that you can’t learn to be an awesome worship leader at PTS (I know them) or an awesome theology professor at Fuller, but make sure you shop around for your particular cultural, career, and academic needs. 

Things I Loved

The residential experience. Nearly all students at PTS live in beautiful on-campus housing or in apartments specialized for families with children just a few miles away. Living a few minutes walk from the library, my professors’ offices, and the chapel was amazing, especially since students at PTS tend to be sociable with the others who live on their hall. I would often spend my evenings studying with friends in their dorm rooms, and since everyone on campus at any given time tends to eat their meals in the cafeteria together, I formed a strong clique of ten or so people who unpacked my readings + spiritual crises with me at the lunch table. 

Spiritual friendships. I was able to make deeper friends than ever before in my life from a variety of denominational and theological backgrounds. We saw each other through vocational shifts, prayed with each other, administered the Eucharist to each other, celebrated birthdays and ordinations together, and stayed up late into the night when anyone needed us. I would literally drive across the country to bail any of them out of jail at a moment’s notice.  

The emotional crucible. Seminary is bootcamp for the soul. You get exposed to so many new ideas and theologies, learn how to preach, sit at people’s bedside while they’re sick, pull together responses for every new act of violence in the news, and most of the time, are thrust into a leadership role at a church that is either going under and begging you to save them or so large and thriving that it nearly swallows you whole. Nothing will grow you up like that. I have an insane amount of poise now dealing with other people’s crises, rage, or grief, and that wasn’t the case when I matriculated. Pastors are all making it up as we go along, but seminary gives at least the appearance of sage wisdom under pressure. 

Academic engagement with theology. This one seems obvious, but after spending four years in a secular liberal arts university that was tolerant of my enduring interest in religion but didn’t offer me an outlet for it, seminary was balm in Gilead. I loved being able to dig into what I really cared about directly, be that metaphysics, church history, or the Bible as literature, and I thrived being surrounded by other people who cared about it and did the reading and wanted to explore together. 

Freedom to research what I wanted. There are plenty of demanding intro-level courses that throw you to the ground and kick you while you cry into your notecards (New Testament, what’s good) but it was fun being on that ride with the rest of your small cohort, and upper-level classes offered chances to research what you cared about. I got to present research on astrology in the book of Daniel, queer American Muslim communities, IVF treatments and theology in Ghana, overlap in myths about Odin and Jesus, and I did an independent research study linking the emergent church to the spike in Millennials re-discovering the Episcopal and Catholic churches.The library was stuffed to the brim with books I would kill for. What a treat.

The melting pot. PTS DEFINITELY has its ideological and admissions biases but they do work hard to create a diverse student body, and I was close with students from so many different counties, denominations, ethnicities, and political leanings, which was enriching beyond belief. It was one of the big reasons I chose a seminary degree. That said, not all schools skew diverse, and I was very specific about choosing a seminary that was explicitly affirming of women in ministry and the goodness and wholeness of LGBTQ+ folks, so I knew that I would be supported by general school policies. Getting that information up front is important. 

Access to university resources. This one is PTS specific, but I went to a independent seminary closely linked to and basically on the same campus as Princeton University (they were the same school back in the 1800s until an amicable split, but we’re still cozy). This meant that I had access to Princeton U libraries, free events, lectures, and religious life, and I was a member of the Episcopal Church at Princeton U for most of my time at seminary. People bribe admissions officials or work themselves to nervous breakdown to get access to the resources I had at my fingertips, and I don’t take that for granted. 

The aesthetic. If I’m gong to take tens of thousands dollars of loans out for graduate school you bet you’re ass I’m going to be sitting in American Hogwarts while I do it. 

Things I Did Not

The cliquishness. This one is a double-edged sword, because I thrived on having a clique of high-functioning. highly-educated pastors who ate at the same lunch table and gossiped about the same people and showed up to campus parties in a gang, but that’s not always healthy. People tended to fragment off by denomination or where they fall on the liberal-conservative scale, and differences can fester that way. Students of color were often implicitly excluded from certain spaces through this behavior. Humans skew towards tribalism to begin with, but when you put super socially-oriented people with strong beliefs in one space where they have to live on top of each other and are looking for low-effort socializing after a long day in the trauma ward, confessional, or picket line, it gets worse. 

Imposter syndrome. Maybe it’s grad school in general that does this, but I spent most of my degree fighting off the feeling that I was dumb, lazy, not serious enough about my “calling” or my research, and probably a heretic. Part of my character growth came from learning not to give a fuck about what people who didn’t share my passions thought of them, and from realizing that I wasn’t on the ordination or PhD track like most of my peers, and that was okay. So I grew from this, but it stung like hell. I cried a lot.

No handholding. The professors at PTS were, by and large, old school, and they were busy as hell. While there was opportunities for office hours, most engagement with professors came in the performative form of “a question, well, more of a comment really” during lectures. Students, (mostly men, I’m not going to lie to you) scrambling for a good letter of rec for a PhD tended to monopolize whatever time professors had. I can think of exceptions (Ellen Charry was exceptional and made time for me in her home when I was struggling to unpack antisemitic theology) but it was a far cry from the literature department in my undergrad, where professors were accessible and knew me personally as mentors and friends. 

Caregiver burnout. This is my big one, and is the reason I’m still in recoup mode doing the office job thing instead of working in formal ministry. Everyone at my school was a pastor, hospital chaplain, activist, or social worker. We are the people who care so much, and who are constantly doing emotional labor for those around us with no time off and usually, poor personal boundaries. Working in a field where it is your job to hold everyone’s hurt and be the face of God to them while their life falls apart is….hard. It was not unusual for me to work ten hours at Penn on my feet in campus ministry, helping people sort through whether or not they wanted to report their sexual assault, holding mini-interventions about excessive drinking, and scrambling to re-schedule worship night after my volunteer went to the hospital after a suicide attempt, and then ride the train home while my phone blew up with news of a new mass shooting that I would have to help host a candlelight vigil for. You hold your parishioner’s hand while they die in hospice. You watch social services take your client’s children away. You stand still while someone screams at you for being too political in your sermon, or not political enough. You sit down to do the budget only to realize the beloved pastor who just retired had been embezzling. Typical Tuesday. 

A lot of the items on these lists are specific to my temperament and the culture at PTS, but by and large I would say it was an amazing experience well worth my time, effort, and money. I pushed myself academically beyond what I believed I was capable of, made the deepest friends of my life, found a home denomination, learned how to effectively care for others and myself, and was met by God in transformative ways again and again. Someday I may get that ordination or work for a ministry nonprofit again, but I have skills now that no one can take away from me, skills I use every day in some capacity. 

Good luck in your discernment process, and I pray you find yourself in exactly the place you need to be!

[earlybird820]

Widow Maker

On the third and final drive to the hospital that fateful Tuesday night, my boyfriend, Rob, reached for my hand and squeezed. I began to cry. For my sister, Jenna, for my niece, Olivia, for my unborn baby niece who Jon would never hold, for Jon’s parents, John and Ann Marie, and for me. Jon was more than a brother-in-law to me, he had become my protective big brother over the years. Our mutual love for Jenna and Olivia had especially bonded us.

Jon had had a massive heart attack at home early Monday morning and had been rushed to the hospital. After coding several times on the operating table, the surgeon was finally able to stabilize him with a stent. According to his doctor, his left ventricle was 100 percent blocked with plaque and the blood was not able to pump as it should which caused the ventricle to burst leading to cardiac arrest. I didn’t know it at the time, but this type of heart attack is often referred to as a “widowmaker.”

When my family and I were first led back to the ICU on Monday, we were shocked at what lay before us. Jon was hooked up to tubes that seemed to be coming from everywhere, machines beeping and whirring continuously, punctuating the silence. In an induced coma, Jon was just a shell of the man he was before. My brother-in-law, the man with the boisterous laugh and heart of gold, now had machines breathing for him and pumping his broken heart.

For two days, friends and family took turns sitting with Jon, holding his limp, cold hand. Some of us simply sat in silence at his bedside, while others talked to him, hoping he could hear them. On Tuesday morning, I, along with my mom and dad, went back to visit him. I sat on his left side holding his hand, my mom and dad across from me. My mom began to speak to him. I can’t remember exactly what all she said, but I distinctly remember her saying, “Today is Tuesday, December 13th. Olivia is exactly 2 years and 5 months old today.” My dad adding, “You gotta pull through buddy; Jenna and the girls need you.”

I said nothing. I sat silently, my mind racing through all the things I wanted to say. How much I appreciated him taking me into his home three years prior, so I could start a new life. How much I loved him for being a wonderful husband to my sister and an even better father to my niece. How much I treasured him for always looking out for me and wanting the best for me. But I couldn’t turn those thoughts into spoken words. I believed that I would be able to tell him all those things when he woke up.

Later that afternoon we received good news from one of Jon’s doctors: “He is not completely out of the woods yet, but his vitals are improving slightly which is a step in the right direction.” We hung all of our hopes on those words.

Deciding it would be beneficial for Jenna to leave the hospital for a couple of hours, we picked Olivia up from daycare early and drove back to her house. Just as we were about to sit down to eat dinner, Jenna’s phone rang. Jon had gone into cardiac arrest again and the doctors were trying to re-stabilize him.

The drive back to the hospital felt like the longest drive of my life. When we finally reached the ICU waiting room, it was full of Jon’s family and friends—many of whom had red, puffy eyes. Fearing Jon had passed and that I didn’t get to say goodbye, I began to sob. One of Jon’s friends reassured me, telling me the doctors had been able to stabilize him but wanted to speak to the entire family in an hour. That hour was agonizing. My sister lay on a couch in the waiting room curled into a fetal position, her entire body racking with sobs. My mom gently lifted her head into her lap and stroked her hair, my dad crouched beside her and squeezed her hand, and I placed her legs in my lap and hugged them, as if by cocooning her inside our love, we might shield her from the inevitable pain.

Finally, we were led back to the ICU to see Jon. The damage from the most recent cardiac arrest was clearly visible. His whole body was bloated from the buildup of fluids in his failing organs. A mixture of blood and some other clear liquid continuously leaked slowly from his nose. My mom grabbed a Kleenex and tenderly wiped the fluid away.

The doctor entered the room. He was not the same one we had spoken to earlier. His words were also not as gentle.

“It took 45 minutes to get him stabilized again. His organs are failing from cardiogenic shock and we believe he is brain dead due to lack of oxygen to the brain. He is no longer salvageable.”  

Yes, the doctor used the word “salvageable” as though Jon were some household appliance and not a husband, father, son, grandson, brother, nephew, cousin, friend.

The sound of wailing permeated the room.

Ann Marie turned to John, “Why is this happening to us? Why? Why? Why? Both our sons. Why?” They had lost their only other child just six years prior in a fatal car accident. He was only 24 years old.

All John could say was, “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

They held each other and wept.

My sister, six-months pregnant, lay herself across Jon’s chest, her round belly protruding underneath her. She kissed his face—his lips, his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids. She whispered, “It’s okay baby, you can go. It’s okay. I love you.”

One by one, all his family and friends came in to say goodbye as we waited to remove him from life support. I watched, with tears streaming down my face, as my mom continued to wipe the fluid from Jon’s nose every few minutes.

A little after midnight the doctor came back in to say it was time. All Jon’s friends left the room as the family gathered around him to say our final goodbyes. At 12:29am on December 14, 2016, Jon took his final breath. He was only 33 years old.

When I awoke the next morning, I thought for a split second that Jon’s death was all a bad dream. But that reprieve did not last long. The wave of reality and grief came crashing down and swept it away. I lay there crying while Rob silently held me tight. I wished he could have held me forever, but I knew that my sister needed me, so I broke the embrace and wiped my tears.

While Jenna, her in-laws, and my parents were away making funeral arrangements, Jon’s Aunt Mary Kay, Rob, and I stayed with Olivia and hosted the revolving visitors who brought food and items for the funeral. Later that evening I helped my sister pick out music for the picture slideshow that would be displayed at the funeral home. I never realized how many songs had been written about death and losing loved ones until then.

The next several days were a whirlwind as we made the last arrangements, attended the funeral home visitation, and the funeral ceremony. With the constant coming and going of visitors paying their respects, the full extent of Jon’s absence had not yet hit us. It wasn’t until everyone else went on with their lives and routines, that the quiet set in. Jon had a big personality and an infectious laugh, and it broke my heart to realize that I would never again hear that laugh.

One day after Jenna had picked Olivia up from daycare, she began to cut up strawberries for Olivia—something that Jon would always do. With a hitch in her voice and tears welling in her eyes, she said, “I can’t do this, Jon always did this.” My mom took over while Jenna retreated to her room, sobbing.

My mom was a blessing during those difficult days. She was retired and able to stay with my sister for months at a time. I know this could not have been easy on her and my dad, who had to stay home, an hour and a half away, for work. They barely got to see each other, though my dad would make the drive down whenever he could.

As for me, I settled into a routine of going to my sister’s after a full day of work, helping out around the house in whatever way I could until 10 or 11pm, and then making the 40-minute drive home every night. My boyfriend, Rob, had just signed up for the Army National Guard a few months before Jon’s death and he had shipped out to bootcamp in Missouri a month after Jon’s funeral. For three long months the only correspondence I had with him was through writing letters, which would take up to two weeks to receive a response. I missed Jon terribly, and I also missed my boyfriend. Under different circumstances, I would have been able to lean on my sister and talk about how much I missed Rob, but it would have been selfish for me to do so now. Rob’s absence was only temporary, Jon’s was permanent.

At the funeral, many people had said to me, “It’s up to you now to take care of your sister and the girls,” “Jenna is going to need you more than ever,” “You need to be strong for them.” I felt that if I broke down in front of my sister, I would be failing her somehow. Yet the more I was around her and Olivia, the more deeply I felt Jon’s absence. I would save my grief for my drive home each night, crying the entire way.

That year, Valentine’s Day fell exactly two months after Jon’s death. I was expecting it to be a shitty day since I wouldn’t be able to spend it with Rob and because it was a reminder of how much time had passed since Jon died. About two hours into my work day, I received a flower delivery; Rob had planned the month before to have them delivered. When I arrived at my sister’s later that night and told her about the flowers, she said, “That’s nice,” before welling up and adding, “I had to spend my Valentine’s Day at the cemetery to visit my husband.” I cried myself to sleep that night.

On February 28th, 2017 Jenna went into labor. My mom and I were in the delivery room. As I witnessed my niece, Layla, being born I was overcome with bittersweet emotions. Joy at the sight of this perfect, tiny angel, and grief that Jon wasn’t there to meet his little girl. I could not save those emotions for later, I let them pour out of me, bawling as my sister held her daughter for the first time.

Layla’s arrival was the turning point in my family’s journey to healing. Though Olivia certainly brought joy to us all as well, there was something about this new life after a tragic loss that gave us hope.

Layla just turned two years old last week and my sister’s house was full of family and friends that have surrounded her with love and support over the past two years.

Olivia, who reminds us so much of Jon, will start kindergarten this fall. She still remembers her daddy and talks about him on occasion. Jenna takes her to Ele’s Place once a week where she participates in activities with other children who have lost a parent.

Jenna has recently started dating again and though she will always grieve her husband, she is allowing herself to be happy and find love again.

Jon’s parents live close by and they pick the girls up from daycare twice a week and spend the evening with them. John takes Olivia with him to the car wash once a week, which is something Jon used to do with her.

My parents still visit often, but my mom no longer has to be away from my dad for extended periods of time. They take the girls one weekend a month to give my sister a little time to herself.

Rob and I bought a house about a 10-minute drive from my sister’s, so I could be closer to her and my nieces. I went back to school about a year after Jon passed because I knew that both he and my sister had always wanted me to finish my degree; my big brother wanting the best for me. I will graduate at the end of June with honors. I like to think that he would have been proud of me.

Jenna and Jon on their wedding day.

My first photo with Jon as his sister-in-law.

Jon and his mom, Ann Marie, at his wedding.

Jenna and Jon on their honeymoon in Aruba.

Jon, Jenna, and newborn daughter Olivia.

Jon holding his newborn daughter, Olivia.

Jon and a sleepy Olivia.

Jon giving Olivia a horseback ride.

The day Layla was born. Photos of Jon are taped to the bedpost.

Jenna and her two beautiful girls, Olivia and Layla.

[notrefined]

I read this article today about my former hometown of Fastiv, and as soon as I saw this photo my heart dropped into my stomach. I lived down the street from that church. I walked past it every day on my way to school. It was the landmark my baba used when giving people directions to our house. I’d know those spires anywhere.

This keeps happening: I see a photo of refugees clutching bundled-up children and a suitcase, or statues being swaddled in bubble wrap, or a hasty barricade thrown up to try and slow down Russian tanks, and I realize that it’s not just a random street. It’s somewhere I know. I have a photo of me making silly faces on that bridge that’s been reduced to rubble, I stood in that church courtyard and talked with a friend for an hour because we didn’t want to say goodbye yet, I bought school supplies at that bombed-out kanstovari.

I was blessed in my years in Ukraine, in that I was able to see so much of the country. I made it to Kyiv, Donetsk, Lviv, Odessa, of course, but I ended up in the smaller places too. I lived in Fastiv, Snezhnoye, and Mohyliv Podilsky, and made them home. I went to Thanksgiving in Ternopil, presented at a teacher training seminar in Uman, did my orientation week in Chernivtsi and then a bootcamp two months later in Chernihiv. I took a two-hour bus to Vinnitsya every month to buy peanut butter. I hosted summer camps in the forests outside of Rivne and Lutsk; the camps ended and we counselors missed each other so much that we had skype sessions just to see each other’s faces, a girl in Kharkiv holding up her cat to the camera & another in Mykolaiv showing off the view from her balcony. Friends who wanted me to truly know the beauty & history of Ukraine took me on field trips to Kamianets Podilsky, Yaremche, Busha. I visited other volunteers to see the lives they were building for themselves in smaller towns all over the country; a community center in Bila Tserkva, a school in Makeyevka.

I’m so grateful that these places live in my memory. I am so scared every time one appears in a headline. I have checked in with all of my people and so far they are okay, if not safe -- as one friend reminded me recently, “there is no ‘safe’ in Ukraine anymore.” I try to think about other things, but the news flashes up and I feel that gut-punch again. Doesn’t Misha live in Mariupol? Is Lera’s family still in Kherson? God above, I hope not.

My host sister made it to the relative safety of Fastiv after more than a week spent hiding underground in Kyiv; the videos she sends me still have the sound of bombs in the distance, but she’s just happy to be outside. We’re trying to find solace where we can.

I don’t know that this post has a point, necessarily, I just had all these feelings and felt the need to put them somewhere. I am so lucky to have seen as much of Ukraine as I did, to have such strong associations with these places and beloved people. I am desperate for this war to end. I am desperate for my friends to be actually, truly safe again. I know the Ukraine that lives in my head is gone now, but I also know that given half a chance, it will rise again. I hope I’ll be there to help them rebuild.

[olgagarmash]

The friendly greeting from the receptionist. The smile and nod to familiar faces in your weekly bootcamp. The collective huff when an instructor shouts out another round of burpees. Even for those of us with a get-in-get-out mentality, the gym provided more social interaction than we likely realized. That made it a shock to the system when we were forced to transition to solo living room workouts nearly overnight.

This transition was an even harder hit to those who met friends for classes after work, engaged in locker room banter with other regulars and fed off the energy and motivation of a class full of people.

Among the (many) mental health challenges of a year-long pandemic is the loneliness and isolation of social distancing — and digital fitness platforms have emerged as a way for people to find meaningful connection with others.

“COVID-19 altered the way people spend their time. We are no longer commuting to large offices, meeting friends for happy hour or interacting at special events,” said Kinsey Livingston, vice president of partnerships at ClassPass. “For many people, physical activity and connectedness top the list of our mental health needs, and we are turning to virtual, outdoor and distanced studio workouts as a healthy coping mechanism for pandemic stress.”

Related

Online communities: From underutilized feature to lifeline

Fitness has always had a strong community aspect, but being able to tap into this connection digitally has been a lifesaver for many.

“The role of community features on fitness platforms is gaining importance. Many people are seeking to re-create that feeling they used to get in group fitness classes,” said Liz Kelly, a licensed social worker for Talkspace, an on-demand therapy app. “With so many individuals trying to balance working from home, parenting young kids, supervising their children’s virtual learning and facing other stressors, fitness platforms offer a chance to engage in convenient self-care and find some normalcy.”

And the fitness industry has responded to this demand. “It’s been incredible to see the fitness community unite. Whether it’s instructors hosting Zoom workouts to keep the community together or fitness professionals across brands hosting coffee chats and interviews via Instagram live,” said Tanysha Renee, SoulCycle Instructor on Equinox+. “People are creating challenges and teams and reposting and tagging each other. I think in the end, the fitness family on a whole has found a new way to keep each other motivated and accountable during these unprecedented times.”

Follow TMRWxTODAY on Instagram for live workouts

At one time, the community component of digital platforms was an underutilized and sometimes snubbed feature — but when the pandemic hit, it quickly became a lifeline to the outside world.

“I think there was a time when online communities were thought of as a less-than form of connecting with people, maybe even a crutch for things that were missing in our ‘real’ lives,” said John Malangone, from West New York, New Jersey, who purchased a SoulCycle at-home bike and connected with the community on social media when in-studio classes were canceled. “Today all of that has changed. Through quarantine, remote connections were all we had and out of pure necessity have gone from taboo to being an actual tool that, if used in a positive way, can foster meaningful connections that we never had access to before.”

This shift is one that Sydney Miller, founder of Housework, an on-demand and live-streaming workout class, noticed more and more people willing to make as the pandemic wore on. “We’ve been living socially distanced lives for almost a year now and people are craving connection and are more willing to go outside of their comfort zone to meet others.” Miller said. “I think it’s still possible to find these connections even though we aren’t all in a sweaty room together; it just of course takes more of a willingness to form them.”

Related

Re-creating the camaraderie of in-person fitness

“Group fitness classes offer a chance to be with others focused on improving their health and wellness and giving each other support. Those high-fives and cheers from a workout buddy are really meaningful,” Kelly explained. “Group fitness offers adults a chance to reclaim some of that feeling we had as kids on the playground with our friends. It is an opportunity to interact with new people that we may not otherwise encounter in daily life.”

Miller said she founded Housework in hopes of bringing the energy of in-person fitness classes to mobile devices, and she expanded the offering to include Zoom classes as well during the pandemic. “In my Zoom classes, I do everything in my power to create connections and foster the same community experience that you would find in a boutique studio prior to the pandemic,” said Miller. “Before and after class I’m on Zoom chatting with people and introducing them to each other. Over the last year, it’s been amazing and rewarding to be able to form relationships with clients that I’ve only ever met through virtual workouts, and likewise to watch them become ‘friends’ with others in the class that they’ve never met before either. Once a week, I host more formal coffee chats after class where we stick around after the workout and get to know each other better — just like we would grab coffee after class pre-COVID.”

Getting a virtual high-five or sharing a cup of coffee through a screen may not be quite the same, but in a world where most of us are socially distanced from others, it’s creating opportunity for the social interaction that’s so vital to our mental health.

“The community has filled such a void for me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss in-person studio workouts, but Housework has this magical way of giving us that feeling on Zoom,” said Colby Berman, who lives in New York City and has become a regular in the Housework Zoom classes. “In the spring of 2020, I made more of an effort to join the ‘Housework + Coffee’ classes — we stick around after class and socialize — as well as follow my fellow members on Instagram. From there, I’ve formed great friendships and accountability partners. The community has played such a big role in my mental well-being, allowing me to feel like I’m back in a studio with dozens of people even though it’s all virtual.”

“Group fitness offers adults a chance to reclaim some of that feeling we had as kids on the playground with our friends.”

Liz Kelly, LCSW

Rodney Waites from Missouri City, Texas, took multiple SoulCycle classes a week with his wife, Missy, before the pandemic. Over the past year, he’s been accessing classes from home on Equinox+. “Live classes allowed us to get back to a routine,” he said. “Stuck in the house, these classes gave us someone to see outside of our home and a much-needed sense of normalcy. And that was huge.”

Waites began to follow and interact with instructors he liked on Instagram in hopes of taking their classes in person once gyms opened again. “Granted, it was mostly via social media, but many of the instructors made our family feel that we are getting through this thing together,” he said. And the digital interactions mirrored in-person connections.

“Junior reached out to us and asked how we enjoyed the reggae-infused playlists and asked Missy (who is of Guyanese descent) who her favorite artists were. Another instructor saw a video I posted and immediately hit me back and gave suggestions to correct my form to get more out of the ride,” he shared.

“One of the greatest benefits of being part of a community is recognizing that you are not alone,” Kelly explained. “I have personally seen many individuals gain insight and perspective from online support groups. It can be incredibly healing to have someone else validate your emotions and experiences.”

More than ever, we are craving companionship and support, and this is something that the fitness community has always provided.

Miller said that she makes it a point to still incorporate the aspects of in-person group fitness classes that make it special. “During live classes, I still love to make people feel seen during the workout by calling out their name and cheering them on. … I like to spotlight people in the class so that it is not all about me — it’s about everyone who showed up for the workout and that makes it feel even more like we are all in a room together,” she said.

While Malangone said he misses the in-person interactions he once had — like hanging out before class, grabbing brunch or making Trader Joe’s runs with other members — live classes are helping to bridge the gap. “Live classes have been a great way to re-create some of the same in-person excitement of planning and attending a class with friends. Many of us use social media to plan our rides together. We post photos, give virtual high-fives, celebrate milestones, and show gratitude to our instructors,” he said. “Social media has brought the missed connection back to life and while we can’t wait to get back to the actual studio, we still love showing up with each other anyway we can.”

Finding an emotional support network during a tough year

For many, the connections found through fitness go much deeper than simply sharing health goals.

Malangone said the connections he made in the studio carried over into his life beyond the gym. “Something about sharing the intensity of a class together creates a bond that’s palpable. We cheer for each other both in and out of the studio. We stand up for each other. We celebrate each other,” he said.

The community continued to be an emotional support network for him, even when shutdowns and quarantines kept him out of the gym.

“I’m very vocal about my struggles with anxiety, depression and alcohol abuse and how finding a community of like-minded friends to support me in my journey has been a critical part of my recovery,” said Malangone. “When the pandemic took that away from me I struggled and I relapsed. Not just with drinking, but emotionally. Like many others, I found myself in a pretty dark place.”

He turned to Facebook with the goal of re-creating a community to meet other at-home riders and found many others looking for the same thing. “Today I use the online communities to post jokes and memes, but I also try to highlight other riders and instructors so everyone can share a moment in the spotlight,” he said. “Over the past year I’ve also tried to harness a little of the collective power of the community to promote fundraisers for BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ nonprofits and, most recently, to help feed families suffering from the financial impacts of COVID.”

Waites was surprised to find the instructors so invested in the mental well-being of members. “In one conversation, the instructor Chris from Austin told us he saw a post regarding the police and George Floyd. This meant so much to us because he reached out without even truly knowing me, but knowing my family was hurting; he asked if he could do anything to help,” he said. “The SoulCycle instructors have meant so much more to us than just telling us to ‘double-tap body roll.’ The playlists and inspirational words have given us an escape by providing us our own little ‘Soul bubble’ in our home.”

Related

Berman also recounted leaning on her online community during the pandemic: “At the tail end of 2020, my best friend tragically and suddenly lost her dad. Housework and the community were there for both me and her during that time of unparalleled emotions,” she said.

Renee said that an online community has the potential to be just as powerful as in-person connections, and she has seen that play out over the last year. “Members are so interconnected that some have even gotten others interviews for jobs, emotionally supported each other through personal illness and family loss and much more,” she said. “During the height of some of the darkest days of 2020, particularly surrounding the untimely deaths of BIPOC, the community came together to host discussions for educating and healing. All of this was initiated and organized by community members.”

And an online community may even allow people to make deeper connections than they were able to face-to-face.

“Prior to the pandemic, much interaction was limited to chats before or after class, whereas now, we all have a bit more time to connect,” Renee added. “People aren’t physically racing to the next meeting or to drop off their kids etc., so there is more time to share. Share more laughs, share more selfies and share more personal details such as new pregnancies, new promotions, break-ups, mental health struggles … Having a more in-depth connection has allowed me to truly see the members of the community and in turn, I have an even deeper appreciation for their presence, knowing all that they are juggling.”

via Wealth Health

[deergoeshome]

Cry Baby

Now I’m not here to tell anybody how to live or anything, and I’m not sure if these are even words that I will say that I live by in like 10 years, but if 2020 has taught me anything, it’s that it is OK to cry. In fact, I have a theory that it’s actually good to cry. Often too. It’s a sign that you’re still human with emotions and stuff, not just a robot or a zombie. 

There were many days this year that I felt like a robot zombie. After working all day, I would realize that I didn’t eat or drink water or have any real conversations with people all day (ironic because I work in a kitchen and am around people all day long!). And I would almost always immediately break down, but I couldn’t really understand why. Was I just feeling sorry for myself? Were my expectations of my role not being met and I was dissatisfied? Was I comparing my experience to someone else’s and coveting an “easier” role?

There were also innumerable instances where the stream of tears flowed from a place that I could only describe as the human experience. Twenty-twenty, complete with disease, death, fear and anxiety, overtime hours, furloughs, riots, destruction from wildfires, and everything in between, brought us to our knees. If you weren’t personally grieving loss, you were witnessing the grief of an entire community, our society. 

For me, there was a weird sense of guilt I experienced too. I quarantined at a luxury guest ranch in the mountains with a bunch of my best friends. We spent our days getting around to projects that had been neglected, hosting competitions, playing sports, celebrating birthdays, and hiking or riding horses. I had a fulfilling job this whole time too. It was like I was having the time of my life while a bomb was going off in the outside or “real” world. 

Thankfully, before I knew any of this was coming, I had kind of braced myself for an emotionally traumatizing year with personal family stuff, and I decided to begin counseling again. Our sessions kind of tapered off as the time came for us to reopen for the summer, but boy, am I thankful for the emotional bootcamp to which I subjected myself for 3 months.

All this to say, 2020 was really full of emotions, not in the sense of good and bad ones, but more along the lines of fun and not fun, pleasant and painful, helpful and inconvenient, life-giving and frustrating, and both necessary and (seemingly) unnecessary. There were a lot of them--constantly and all changing frequently. Crying didn’t make experiencing the spectrum of emotions that was always in flux easier, per se, but it does signal to me that I am feeling something and that that--being a human instead of a robot zombie--is a good thing.

***

I made a friend in Morocco at the beginning of the year. He had just spent 10 days at a silent meditation retreat and believe me, this guy was zen as hell. Like so joyful & grateful for everything in life. He was so much fun to be around! 

I had a rough and unpleasant experience with a family member while traveling and found myself wandering around a botanic garden crying because I didn’t know how to make the situation better. I was frustrated and angry with my family member and myself for it. As my zen friend was checking in on me over IG messaging, this is how our conversation went:

Me: Sometimes I cry because I’m feeling very much like myself & cry about a lot of things, happy & sad. And other times, like this week, I cry because I don’t feel like myself and I feel really frustrated. Lots of negative emotions & not feeling grateful or excited about people or nature or everything.

Zen friend: But that's normal. Life is like that, changing all the time. Observe the emotions, and try not to get caught in them.

Me: What do you do with them once you observe they are there?

Zen friend: Nothing. Interesting thing about it is that if you don't feed them, they pass away.

Me: Lol I hate that. I like the idea of being able to do something about the emotions. Like flicking them away.

Zen friend: So the best way to do this is to notice when the image/emotion comes up, and stop the engagement of the mind in it. That is a bit more difficult to do then it sounds.

Me: Okie dokie. I’ll see what I can do. Or not do?

It’s tiring--crying, that is. I’ll cry and observe the emotions and then cry some more. But it’s normal--the emotions, that is. And crying should be too, don’t you think? 

***

I have two favorite spots for crying, both at the ranch. Actually, three including anywhere by the ocean. But since my two favorite spots were not accessible today, I walked over to a freeway overpass and watched cars zoom by. I’ve been suicidal before, but today wasn’t one of those days. I just felt sad for some dysfunctional relationships and also for the fact that I couldn’t cry in my favorite spot. 

And then I felt guilty. The poor people who would walk over this bridge and be like What’s wrong with that girl? as they passed me, scooting to the farthest side of the pathway. And most of them will also think to themselves Should I ask her what’s wrong? Clearly she’s upset and crying about something. No, I should keep a distance of 6 feet. We are in the middle of a pandemic so she probably doesn’t want a stranger to talk to her anyway.

And that got me thinking. Why is crying taboo? Why is it bad to feel the not fun emotions and express it, even if you are in public? Because it sure as hell is not real life to have everything together all the time. And it is the farthest thing from reality for anyone to be expected to do that in 2020. 

A kind individual did stop to talk to me. He asked what was wrong. 2020? I told him no, 2020 has been pretty good for me, actually. But upon further examination, maybe yes. Maybe the sheer amount of emotions of 2020 did cause me to cry. But also maybe not in that particular instance. Maybe it’s because sometimes it would just be easier to be a robot zombie rather than a human. 

Life would be easier without tears or emotions or relationships or the stress of a society that seems to be falling apart, would it not? It’s not a bad thing to be crying over these difficult things. It’s a way to cope instead of remaining in a state of denial. It’s observing that the realties and the emotions are there and that they are just as tangible as the courage and bravery you have chosen each morning that you’ve gotten up to face these things head on.

Wherever you’re at and however you are feeling as 2020 comes to an end, I wish you the fullest of human experiences, complete with emotions, courage, and tears amidst the difficulties. I hope that this next year will be full of tears, whether from joy or pain, and that in this experience, we can all learn to show a little more compassion to other humans when we see them crying on freeway overpasses and beyond.