The tree stands alone
in a field
They have hacked
at the roots
with machettes
at the trunk
with chain saws
Til a CRACK breaks
the silent afternoon hush
the branches waver
And shake and shake
Somewhere a crow caws
then with loud rush
Of sound its limbs
fold and fall
to the ground.
They grind the stump down
Back to the earth.
They think they have
done with her
But next spring
Hidden in the grass
several small shoots
appear attached
to deep roots
that struggle to rise
to the surface
to present new life
New trees and not just one
But many now
A forest rises
up from where one
tree reigned supreme.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Shabbes Ve'yeshlach
B'H
For twenty five or six hours I have put the betrayal of my ratbag family out of my mind. I should be used to this sort of betrayal after fifty odd years of it. but it is hard knowing that you do not have a biological family to speak of. I guess I was deluded after my father died to think that things should have changed. I guess what I should have done was have nothing to do with them after the funeral when they made their feelings about me as a person so amply plain and the damage that they did to my car while it was up there. It looked like it had been deliberately backed into something and repeatedly so. I was prepared to believe it was an accident at the time but seeing as no one ever came forward to tell me how it happened I now know it was deliberate malice on their part. Just as the vicious seething with hatred letter that I got from Stephen my brother about the $50,000 that my father left me and how he roared down the phone at me that it was more than I deserved and that I should not have even gotten that. It may even be him and his 'lovely wife' Brenda who may have had a word in the ear of the vicious Narrandera principal which ended in me being discriminated against in Narrandera and forced into making a complaint which then led to my being bullied.
They are probably sitting back on the deck at my brother's stupid little property in Queensland, getting drunk and laughing their heads off at me and my son and saying all sorts of vile things and planning how to further make me appear a real bitch and to make me appear ridiculous and a vile person.
Too be honest, I have reached stage where I just don't care any more and my mother will die without seeing my face again. She has gotten what she wanted. She has divided this generation like she divided my father's generation. She set three brothers against each other and I believe that her manipulations and little temper tantrums to get her own way all the time, divided my father from his brothers and set them against each other after Gran died.
What I will now never forgive is the fact that they had a party for my mother after telling me that they were doing nothing. All the conversations I have had with my brother were lies and lies and lies. How they must have laughed at my gullibility in believing all the stories they told me about Brenda Leeds and Stephen Leeds and how they received a package of cheap jewellery from them and etc etc. It is just lie after lie after lie.How can you believe such people. They think they are so clever. My family is all dead. My father is dead and my grandmother is dead. My mother is dead to me emotionally and has been for years. FOOL fool me to have come up there to visit her. I should have saved my money and stayed in Narrandera and worked on a novel or two. To think that I spent every holidays with her after my father died and believed all her lies about everything. My brothers and Anne Ford are probably having a right old drunken burp and giggle about how they played me for a fool. Well, not any longer. My son just has to get used to the fact that we do not have family apart from a few close friends. We do not have a family and we are not likely to have one until he marries and has children.
Apart from being ripped off by this so called 'old friend' who supposedly is a barrister and a naturopath and played for a fool by so called brothers who treat you like some sort of toy that you can play with the emotions, this has not been a good year so far.
Like my brother once said to me, 'You do everyone a favour if you just topped yourself. Or better still get yourself murdered.' I guess they were really disappointed that I wasn't the taxi driver who ended up in the boot with a bullet in the brain a few years back when I was driving taxis and putting myself through uni. It must have been so disappointing for them that I passed.
I remember when I came back from Israel in 1986 that my 'sister in law' was trying to convince me to come to the USA to complete my degree and I knew exactly what she wanted. A live in maid. I would never have ended up with my degree let alone a teaching degree. She would have bullied me into doing the house work and being live in cheap slave labour and with both her and my brother telling me what a piece of crap I was and churning out all this rubbish about Jews and gays and white supremacy I would have lived a night mare. She and my brother actually made jokes to my mother and other relatives I gather about me living in a motor home or caravan like a piece of white trash because that is how they view me as dreck rubbish. They would actually feel happy if I was to commit suicide and I in fact, see them as striving to make me feel as rubbishy and bad about myself as possible so that could be a real possibility for them to bring about. It is a classic mobbing technique. You make the target feel as disgusting and rubbishy as possible and totally worthless.
Trouble is I fail to see the prospect of suicide as an option. Nor do I abuse substances of addiction in any way what so ever. I am too sane and while I might be guilible I am not exactly the sort of person who commits suicide.
I no longer have a mother. She died in September 1970 and she was my father's mother. My father died in 2002. The woman who turned 90 is not my mother. She is the woman who gave birth to me and that is all. She hates me with a passion and always has. I say tehillim for her and know that it is between her and Hashem now. I have done my bit and can do no more. We are done. All done. all I can do in the face of such hatred is stand and pray and then keep my own counsel and leave them alone. The thought of having to go through this stuff another lifetime is tiresome but to be honest there is nothing I do. It is up to Hashem.
For twenty five or six hours I have put the betrayal of my ratbag family out of my mind. I should be used to this sort of betrayal after fifty odd years of it. but it is hard knowing that you do not have a biological family to speak of. I guess I was deluded after my father died to think that things should have changed. I guess what I should have done was have nothing to do with them after the funeral when they made their feelings about me as a person so amply plain and the damage that they did to my car while it was up there. It looked like it had been deliberately backed into something and repeatedly so. I was prepared to believe it was an accident at the time but seeing as no one ever came forward to tell me how it happened I now know it was deliberate malice on their part. Just as the vicious seething with hatred letter that I got from Stephen my brother about the $50,000 that my father left me and how he roared down the phone at me that it was more than I deserved and that I should not have even gotten that. It may even be him and his 'lovely wife' Brenda who may have had a word in the ear of the vicious Narrandera principal which ended in me being discriminated against in Narrandera and forced into making a complaint which then led to my being bullied.
They are probably sitting back on the deck at my brother's stupid little property in Queensland, getting drunk and laughing their heads off at me and my son and saying all sorts of vile things and planning how to further make me appear a real bitch and to make me appear ridiculous and a vile person.
Too be honest, I have reached stage where I just don't care any more and my mother will die without seeing my face again. She has gotten what she wanted. She has divided this generation like she divided my father's generation. She set three brothers against each other and I believe that her manipulations and little temper tantrums to get her own way all the time, divided my father from his brothers and set them against each other after Gran died.
What I will now never forgive is the fact that they had a party for my mother after telling me that they were doing nothing. All the conversations I have had with my brother were lies and lies and lies. How they must have laughed at my gullibility in believing all the stories they told me about Brenda Leeds and Stephen Leeds and how they received a package of cheap jewellery from them and etc etc. It is just lie after lie after lie.How can you believe such people. They think they are so clever. My family is all dead. My father is dead and my grandmother is dead. My mother is dead to me emotionally and has been for years. FOOL fool me to have come up there to visit her. I should have saved my money and stayed in Narrandera and worked on a novel or two. To think that I spent every holidays with her after my father died and believed all her lies about everything. My brothers and Anne Ford are probably having a right old drunken burp and giggle about how they played me for a fool. Well, not any longer. My son just has to get used to the fact that we do not have family apart from a few close friends. We do not have a family and we are not likely to have one until he marries and has children.
Apart from being ripped off by this so called 'old friend' who supposedly is a barrister and a naturopath and played for a fool by so called brothers who treat you like some sort of toy that you can play with the emotions, this has not been a good year so far.
Like my brother once said to me, 'You do everyone a favour if you just topped yourself. Or better still get yourself murdered.' I guess they were really disappointed that I wasn't the taxi driver who ended up in the boot with a bullet in the brain a few years back when I was driving taxis and putting myself through uni. It must have been so disappointing for them that I passed.
I remember when I came back from Israel in 1986 that my 'sister in law' was trying to convince me to come to the USA to complete my degree and I knew exactly what she wanted. A live in maid. I would never have ended up with my degree let alone a teaching degree. She would have bullied me into doing the house work and being live in cheap slave labour and with both her and my brother telling me what a piece of crap I was and churning out all this rubbish about Jews and gays and white supremacy I would have lived a night mare. She and my brother actually made jokes to my mother and other relatives I gather about me living in a motor home or caravan like a piece of white trash because that is how they view me as dreck rubbish. They would actually feel happy if I was to commit suicide and I in fact, see them as striving to make me feel as rubbishy and bad about myself as possible so that could be a real possibility for them to bring about. It is a classic mobbing technique. You make the target feel as disgusting and rubbishy as possible and totally worthless.
Trouble is I fail to see the prospect of suicide as an option. Nor do I abuse substances of addiction in any way what so ever. I am too sane and while I might be guilible I am not exactly the sort of person who commits suicide.
I no longer have a mother. She died in September 1970 and she was my father's mother. My father died in 2002. The woman who turned 90 is not my mother. She is the woman who gave birth to me and that is all. She hates me with a passion and always has. I say tehillim for her and know that it is between her and Hashem now. I have done my bit and can do no more. We are done. All done. all I can do in the face of such hatred is stand and pray and then keep my own counsel and leave them alone. The thought of having to go through this stuff another lifetime is tiresome but to be honest there is nothing I do. It is up to Hashem.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Yesterday was my mother's 90th birthday
Yesterday was my mother’s ninetieth birthday. I did not ring
her. I did not want to spoil her day. I sent her flowers and chocolates instead
and did not sign it. In fact, I gave the florist specific instructions not to
indicate who sent it. I did not want to spoil her day.
There was only a brief time in our lives together that my
mother has welcomed my presence at all. It was after my father’s death and I
thought for a while she wanted a daughter and for a short while I felt as if
she wanted me around. She must have been incredibly lonely. My youngest brother
her favourite child was furious I think, that we were getting on and she talked
continually about this and that being like that. I wondered at the time why she
could not be a mother to three children at once, instead of one at a time. When
she would sit with me, she had to run down my brother in Queensland and his
wife who I do not mind at all. She was constantly comparing them to the ‘angel’
of us all who resides in the USA with an American blond tank with a crew cut
and abrasive manner. Put her on the front line of the American troops and
believe me there would be no Afghanistan or Iraqi war. They would be cowering
in their fox holes. Put her in a diplomatic mission to Iran and President
Whatshisface with the mad eye twitch and he would never touch an atomic bomb
again because she would break his fingers, slice them up and sell them to KFC
where they would marinate them and sell them off as chicken nuggets a la
Iranian spice. We wish.
My mother and I have a long history that goes back to my
difficult birth. I was a dry birth, so she was always fond of telling me. Her
waters broke before the birth. She said I took two days to emerge and then only
with the help of doctor’s forceps. My face was quite bruised and crushed. The
first thing I did was eat heartily. She said I was a glutton par excellence. I
thought babies were supposed to only think about eating, farting, excreting and
sleeping. But according to my mother, apparently not. They should hold
intellectual debates in High German (because they speak High German in Austria
where she comes from. None of this plebeian country dialect that they must
speak in the valleys and back alleys of Berlin and Hamburg.) They should also
have natural table manners and apparently I lacked those too, along with a lot
of other desirable traits.
I offended her by looking like the Kirby side of the family,
my father’s mother’s family. They are bog Irish and red headed. Short on temper
and eccentric. But of course, the Austrians are not eccentric; they only lock
their daughters up in cellars and have children by them and that apparently is
ok. They also produced a vile little man with a moustache and a gigantic
inferiority complex who started a megalomaniac movement that tried to wipe out
Jews, Gypsies, Croats, people with birth disorders, homosexuals, differing
political views and Down’s Syndrome. But then, they are highly civilised,
intellectuals who are organised, can knit, save money and produced Freud who was
incidentally a Jew. When I would try and tell her this, she would say ‘No, no,
no. You must have it wrong. He was an Austrian German.' Strange concept that one.
Anyway my childhood was spent with her bemoaning the fact
that I was not as beautiful nor as intelligent nor as elegant as her. In rebellion at
this rejection by her, I became a tomboy and was very close to my grandmother while
I tried to figure out why my mother never liked me. It is quite frightening
really when you understand that the person who gave birth to you, really does
not like you.
I do hope she had a good birthday and is happy in the
knowledge that she has finally gotten rid of me. It does not pay to get too
concerned about her as when I ring she only gets upset, so I no longer do. It
is safer for both of us.
I am sure the family will have done something, but they will
have excluded me as usual. It goes without saying. Should I care? I am not going to beg them. I
used to try and include them but they did not want and that is that. Sometimes
I do care and other times I am too busy with the struggle of living to really
care about her taunts and vicious statements calculated to offend me yet time
and time again.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Some Pics
The Big Swing was a real hit with some. Others were scared. They were lifted right up and then they pulled a rope at the point where I have taken the picture and they would swing down. Looked great, but we teachers were only allowed to observe.
One of the male peacocks taking flight at the Koala and wildlife sanctuary we stopped at yesterday taking flight. It is not a fake bird but real.
Some of the camp sites and activities
B'H
Yesterday was a full on day and we tired the kids for the obvious reasons. The stop at the Koala and Wildlife sanctuary was superb.
This is a ten month old baby koala resting up in a gum tree. Apparently koalas spend twenty hours a day sleeping. And below is his big Mumma Koala.
Yesterday was a full on day and we tired the kids for the obvious reasons. The stop at the Koala and Wildlife sanctuary was superb.
Don't call them Fairy Penguins!
‘The
penguins are called ‘little penguins’. They don’t like to be called Fairy
Penguins. If you call them Fairy penguins, they won’t talk to you.’ The nasally
accent of our intrepid bus driver’s incessant chatter was interspersed with
grinding of gears as we pulled away from the college and snaked through the
streets of Carnegie up onto Dandenong Road and finally the freeway in the
general direction of Phillip Island.
‘Seat
belts. Seat belts, put ya seat belts on.’ He had said accompanied by the first
grinding of the gears. Then there were more jokes that went over the heads of
the students from the Language Centre sitting dutifully in their seats with
much less noise than most school classes would have and obviously they did not
understand the bad jokes because there were no catcalls or jeers. Instead of
laughing at his own jokes, the driver just punished the gearbox of the bus a
few more times with a vigor that was matched by his strident babble about
nothing really of consequence. He told
us the bit about the fairy penguins three more times before he realized that
perhaps they did not understand or maybe it was not so funny after all.
Watching the back of his balding grey
flecked scraggly mane as he bent over the wheel, I wondered how long he had
been driving buses or whether his ineptitude in driving this morning was just a
result of having a rough weekend on the juice bottle. I restrained myself from
offering to swap places with him; I would drive the bus and he could relax in
the seat behind. The only thing stopping me from offering was the lack of an
articulated license. Having driven an International truck and an old World War
II truck as a kid, I figured a bus could not be that difficult but the lack of
appropriate legal qualifications and certificates could be a problem.
Down at San Remo, he did redeem himself by
showing us where the Mantra rays were swimming around in the shallows near the
pier. Great big black shadows just under the water swishing around in silent
graceful arcs, their barbed tails swayed behind them. Phillip Island is surprisingly cold for early
December. According to one of the camp staff at the camp site where we are
staying, it is around two or three degrees cooler than Melbourne always and
that is due to the winds coming off the Antarctica which is a few thousand kilometers to the south of here. The seas are decidedly chilly.
The penguins fluttering up the wet sand at dusk are a delight to behold. Walking up to the viewing station we were able to see a little penguin chick peeping out of his burrow. He or she was probably wondering about the craziness of herds of humans walking down to the sea chattering aimlessly, rugged up against the bitterly cold winds that tugged and pushed at jackets and parkas. Above the seated watchers on the cement benches at the beach, seagulls rose and fell - bits of confetti thrown in celebratory glee - they hovered just out of reach. Wings angled just so, they rode the drafts, soaring then swooping down to land on the sand and harass the penguins who they wanted to intimidate into regurgitating their fish so they could feed rather than the penguin chicks.
To be continued.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Demolition of a village built in Memory of Ruth, Udi, Yoav, Elad and Hadassa Fogel OBM
B'H
What you are about to see is not pretty nor pleasant. It is the rubble of a family home. It is a family made homeless by the very country that they are most loyal to and a country whose existence they are striving to nurture and protect. The very people who should be shouldering the burden with them, standing alongside them and to the forefront are the ones who are ordered to tear down their homes. The IDF soldiers who have to rip up and demolish the homes of these people at Givat Arye must be extremely confused right now.
On one hand they are sworn to protect Israeli citizens and on the other hand they are told to see any Israeli citizen of the Shomron who moves to settle anywhere but within tightly proscribed areas as an enemy of the State of Israel. This is quite a deplorable state of affairs.
It is not the fault of the soldiers but blame lies squarely on the government of Israel who seems not to understand the real importance of this area of Israel and how it is the heartland of the country. We need a more spiritual and truthful government in Israel. We need a Jewish government that is for the Jewish people and the Nation of Israel.
What is achieved by ripping up settlements? What is gained for the state of Israel to allow terrorists free access into areas where they can do the most mischief?
What was gained by the destruction of Gush Katif except a generation of grief and dispossession of Yiden in their own country? We need to wake up. We must wake up before it is too late. We need to pull together as a nation and say 'ENOUGH' and protect our own and build a strong united Israel. It does not matter about the level of religious observance because the message of unity and one nation is driven home yet again and again in the Torah and not only the Torah but in other Jewish writings.
It makes me want to weep. We had a beit Hamikdash destroyed because of sinat ha 'am.
Haradi, Kibbutznik, Mizrachi, Hasid, hiloni or dati we are all Jewish with a belief in one G-D. We have to rise above pettiness and politics and unite. IF WE ARE To SURVIVE THIS WITH HASHEM'S HELP.
Please read the following articles of Helen Freedman (AFSI) and Aharon Pulver (Israel Independence Fund):
http://www.jewishindy.com/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=16416
http://www.israelnationalnews.com/Articles/Article.aspx/10932#.Tth6R0QSSc8
Lets help these homeless pioneers rebuild their homes and purchasing the Furniture and the facilities that have been demolished by the Israeli and Arab demolition experts.
You can donate directly via PayPal:
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=9BFYMAHD9G6WU
Or donate via our 501(c) 3 Charity:
Shuva Israel - The Return Israel Fund Inc.
Account# at Citibank: 95733396
111 Great Neck Road, Great Neck, NY., 11021, USA
Routing number: 021000089
Swift Code: CITIUS33
You can also send a check To:
Shuva Israel
PO Box : 27255
Austin TX 78755
USA
Attached few Photos of the demolition.
G-D bless you all for your support,
Oshri David
Shomron Liaison Office
Tel: +(972) 3936-8146
Fax: +(972) 153-393-68146
Cell: +(972) 523-772-883
What you are about to see is not pretty nor pleasant. It is the rubble of a family home. It is a family made homeless by the very country that they are most loyal to and a country whose existence they are striving to nurture and protect. The very people who should be shouldering the burden with them, standing alongside them and to the forefront are the ones who are ordered to tear down their homes. The IDF soldiers who have to rip up and demolish the homes of these people at Givat Arye must be extremely confused right now.
On one hand they are sworn to protect Israeli citizens and on the other hand they are told to see any Israeli citizen of the Shomron who moves to settle anywhere but within tightly proscribed areas as an enemy of the State of Israel. This is quite a deplorable state of affairs.
It is not the fault of the soldiers but blame lies squarely on the government of Israel who seems not to understand the real importance of this area of Israel and how it is the heartland of the country. We need a more spiritual and truthful government in Israel. We need a Jewish government that is for the Jewish people and the Nation of Israel.
What is achieved by ripping up settlements? What is gained for the state of Israel to allow terrorists free access into areas where they can do the most mischief?
What was gained by the destruction of Gush Katif except a generation of grief and dispossession of Yiden in their own country? We need to wake up. We must wake up before it is too late. We need to pull together as a nation and say 'ENOUGH' and protect our own and build a strong united Israel. It does not matter about the level of religious observance because the message of unity and one nation is driven home yet again and again in the Torah and not only the Torah but in other Jewish writings.
It makes me want to weep. We had a beit Hamikdash destroyed because of sinat ha 'am.
Haradi, Kibbutznik, Mizrachi, Hasid, hiloni or dati we are all Jewish with a belief in one G-D. We have to rise above pettiness and politics and unite. IF WE ARE To SURVIVE THIS WITH HASHEM'S HELP.
Please read the following articles of Helen Freedman (AFSI) and Aharon Pulver (Israel Independence Fund):
http://www.jewishindy.com/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=16416
http://www.israelnationalnews.com/Articles/Article.aspx/10932#.Tth6R0QSSc8
Lets help these homeless pioneers rebuild their homes and purchasing the Furniture and the facilities that have been demolished by the Israeli and Arab demolition experts.
You can donate directly via PayPal:
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=9BFYMAHD9G6WU
Or donate via our 501(c) 3 Charity:
Shuva Israel - The Return Israel Fund Inc.
Account# at Citibank: 95733396
111 Great Neck Road, Great Neck, NY., 11021, USA
Routing number: 021000089
Swift Code: CITIUS33
You can also send a check To:
Shuva Israel
PO Box : 27255
Austin TX 78755
USA
Attached few Photos of the demolition.
G-D bless you all for your support,
Oshri David
Shomron Liaison Office
Tel: +(972) 3936-8146
Fax: +(972) 153-393-68146
Cell: +(972) 523-772-883
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