Archive for July, 2008

the HATE…and dAmAgE cOnTrOl

July 30, 2008

USS Vulcan AR-5 postcard circa 1950

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

I know what I am doing-it is typical and something that comes on in my head and my inner spirit….damage control, I just do not know how to control it.
In my damage control actions…such as yesterday-I begin by destruction of anything positive….any good,or even things that I care about. Even me-inside….with the exception of just one minor thing that yet has come to give me peace.
That is death.
I want it so badly….and yet my commitment to what is higher than I,my feelings about God-and that death belongs to God….the action of death-the property of death,it belongs to God. Otherwise I believe I would have succeeded several times in the past.

It is almost August. Only a few days from my birthday just having passed.

 In 1969 I was as thrilled as I could ever be. I had just turned 18 and in only a few days more I was going to Fort Hollibird in Baltimore to be inducted and flown off to Great Lakes. I still remember FPO Poltz…our drill instructor-and will never forget his face in mine at 0400 in the wee hours of the first day…..him screaming at me that I’m not at my ‘momma’s house’ anymore.

I was going to end this yesterday-I may still have no choice….damage control set in over the week and my first attack was the Internet(it begins with soft blows and goes into realms I cannot recall) as I telephoned the Internet provider and said to dis-connect the service. I think it will be cut today.
Second task….I made it into town on fumes of gasoline to return my library card. No available computers then-you have to have a library card.
Those are soft and easy….my fear is-my insides are raging to create more DAMAGE!

What is it? Why is it?
Really-I do not know how to answer because it controls me…not me controlling it,and the way I see the aftermath of my actions is clear…I am bent for destruction.

I hate this life.
I hate it that every morning I wake up…not an hour after-nor 10 minutes after…the very instant I can feel the darkness of pre-dawn surrounding me I feel it. The memory-and sounds,how I can hear the sound is beyond me? But I hear the sounds of the men in barrack D….sleep sounds of breathing and snoring and the hum of some kind of machine in the background-the breathing of the building. The memory of being attacked and the inventory I have to take each morning of the past….the rapes and the strong arm handling of taking me around barrack D,to be used when ever.
That haunts me-and becomes the greatest part of my damage control….it drives me to get hurt again. My ‘legal’ way of doing it with out Gods permission. Not quite death-but hopefully it could be and I could run across the one that would do me the favor and finish the job the men who took the balance of my life in barrack D,the balance they had no courtesy to do.
Why didn’t they kill me?

The song about rape and sexual assault is not a sweet song-there are no gentle stanza’s. There was no fun in it…there never has been. The sexual task in life is as I said-a task…a fucking job! A mental illness in disguise. What is a gentle touch like?
What is love?

I almost am ready to quit writing these pages about my personal history. The recent discovery how deceitful kin-folk can be…to tell you they love you,and to jab you every time they do. The taste of what my life was fresh in my mouth while none of them really cared and never understood…and never wanted to know,they have made me want to quit-might as well,it is my life they want me to quit telling about…so why can’t I die?
The time I spent in the Navy was to always be a reminder to me. My one brother said to me “it was just a job”…as if it was something that mere to me. It wasn’t-it was what I wanted for all of my life. We were taught to want to serve our country-to defend our rights.
My rights were not defended.
When I was raped I was told by the officer who was the first to see me…piss all over my uniform and my face bloodied from being punched…the officer said “get used to it”!
When will I get used to it?
When will I not feel the guilt when ever I see and meet a real veteran-a veteran of a real military life? How can I shed myself of the shame each time I meet a man that went to Viet Nam…where I should have gone-where I could have been wounded legitimately….not the way I was.

When you are hurt it is supposed to be where someone comes and cares for you-nurtures you and keeps you comfortable.
When I was hurt all I got was offered up as a possession to my main attacker and his two pals-a piece of property. No soft touches-only my right arm twisted up behind my back each and every morning and through the day. Traded for favors-where I earned nothing but the taste of someone forcing their penis in my mouth or having to accept the rest…which was worse?
It has always made me hate kisses-to be kissed on the mouth because of he disgust I have for myself and thinking of the filth.

I do not know what the out come is.
If my Internet is disconnected then these parts of my story are over-but my story for real will not end until the peace from death comes!
I am hopeful it is soon. My insides are raging with pain-God I hope it is something that is killing me like the doctor has said! Peace.

It is a funny odd thing. The night before I went to boot camp I watched the movie with Jack Webb (the star of the original Dragnet) called the ‘D.I.’ which stood for ‘drill instructor’ who is the main leader and training officer while one goes through boots.
It was made harder looking on the show-it was not really as bad,I actually liked it.
There were no social divisions-no need for dressing in style-everyone had the same uniform. And it was uniform! Correct, and it made me want to go the whole way pleasing FPO Poltz-and earning his approval. I was at home.
What a mistake it was to believe in family…to accept a duty with my brother Frank.
We would not be here today…I surely would have had a different life.

The critical of me…those who hate it that I have spent these days writing about what my life is about…they want me to quit! It is all a part of it….the tail of the days at barrack D,just swinging around to smack when needed.
Truthfully-for the one known as Carol to deceive and lie about her actual position in the place of family,to act as if she was just someone else-not Franks widow….it has hurt deeply,the deception. A person that never calls just to say hello-or,how are you…has picked and picked at what I said,only to turn out to have no idea nor foundation…just a sad person,who calmly feels just in her foul way. And-she has no idea who I really am! Just a continual trail.
These are evidence of the lack of respect and where my place is….you see-it was not over the morning I was discharged (with an Honorable Discharge….with no honor to go along with it)…it was not over at any time.
Once it began it stayed-barrack D.
They ought to know what it looks like inside of me…a view that is impossible to show. A sickening view….particularly when I hear the sounds of morning beginning or when I wipe my ass in the morning or shower afterwards-the damage.

Damage control is at a peak today. How long it is going to stay there I do not know…sometimes I gain control,sometimes I rage out of control-at least until the sudden wakes me up. The hate…it is embedded in me from way back from the days if this beginning-the new birth of Jay Herron,the birth of distortion and when I had to carry this part of me alone!
I requested my Internet to turned off because I have found myself searching for some one to harm me-hopefully someone who is also deceptive and plays like a friend but will hurt me like I’m human waste…steps on me and squishes me and in my secret hope…finishes me and takes my life and ends fucked up misery that I live through.
That when I begin to try to get control of damage control….turning off the access-but the access is still on!
I cannot believe I have to go through another day.


July 29, 2008

fleet II

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

This will be the last I get write….I have canceled my internet access because some how my line has mixed with anothers and very un-wanted things have happened!

My family and Carol will be overjoyed-they can relax and not have to worry that I’m teling you about them anymore-sad is it not…none of them can call (unless they need certain supplies) and say anything…ever?? !!
So such ends any form of communication they might have taken into consideration…surely they’ll all celebrate!

Thank you for those who read what I say…and those who join me in my efforts against the Veterans Administration.
I would continue-but for me to get into the nearest town to use a public library computer will not work,can’t afford the gasoline!

God Bless those who have lives!…and folks like Carol who have TV sets and live in that box!

the last time…

July 27, 2008


Originally uploaded by jayfherron

How does one explain many of the things that mold up a part of lives…we have so much that ads on to our baggage,sometimes it is too hard to comprehend.

My entire adult life has been one with less self esteem than what appears to be normal for others. I never could grasp getting to know people who had higher planes of thought and values…at least,not until recently.
I’ve written about the woman in this photograph several times before…I call her my ‘rattlesnake bride’.
Hmmm,yes…an awful title for a person-yet it is almost a perfect fit. You would have to enter her space to learn I am telling the factual truth.

I met my rattlesnake bride in 1993. She was living in an automobile with her two children-she had claimed she was an abused wife and stole away with the kids to flee being beat up more.

Lie one.

Then she told everyone she had six months to live-some kind of bone cancer of some such…we all-friends and neighbors- rushed to the local Red Cross to have our blood checked to see if we qualified to be a bone marrow donor….which was redundant-lie two.

I fell in love with her. Moved her into my house and quickly fell into the depths of all her ‘stories’….and loved her. Blinded by the love….not given sight because of it!

There is a history with this woman-yet I would listen and did not hear for at least four years. By then it became obvious-this person was seriously troubled,and perhaps even dangerous.

I believe I had more dealings with the local law enforcement in the period of time she was with me then I ever had in my entire life. There was stolen property…she filled the house with lawn equipment once and said she bought it at a yard sale…still telling about the sale as the sheriff deputy and the real owner of the property were carrying out of the house! It came clear that the truth was not a easy thing for her.

I cannot write it all this morning. The times we had were almost harder than walking through a tornado-that is,the times we were together…she seemed to have this thing about taking off and not being seen for weeks or months.

The last time was 11 years ago today-she went out for a pack of smokes and that was the last I have seen her.

I can recall the date easily-tomorrow is my birthday and my darling rattlesnake bride came into the house 11 years ago today at 10:30 in the morning and undressed and seduced me and after that was over she took the car and went off for a pack of Marlboro’s…somewhere along the way she managed to bounce almost 2,000 dollars of non-valuable checks. I only began to realize what had happened a few days later when my phone began to ring…hey Jay,we have a problem!

The calls came from business owners that knew me-she had convinced them to cash the checks. There were no funds-as a matter of fact,she even cleaned out the bank account-and left me high and dry!

It seemed almost immediately the convict lady I met…Rose,or Theresa,or…Mary Beth…or who ever she called herself at the time-almost immediately she began to enter my space every day. There was something she could not grasp-after spending three years with the rattlesnake was an education in truth for me….it became easy to tell when someone was telling you false things,or lies…and when the truth was evident.

Two ladies-two liars.

Rose turned out to be wanted by the FBI and with out a doubt-could not tell the truth,well…until after rattlesnake took off,then the truth of Rose came out. She murdered some guy in Maryland and had escaped from prison….great news to tell someone! Of all things…that turned out to be the truth.

So…how can I remember this day? It was the last time I have ever been in physical contact with another human being. You know what I mean…it was the last time!

Trust….trust is not an easy thing for me. I really believed in rattlesnake. I believed this beautiful woman was going to die-she was so intelligent,and gawd bless…she was beautiful. That was the best of it-the rest was like riding a carnival ride that was running off track.

I really even hate that I have nothing to really write about this morning. It is this memory that I have-especially that it has been this long since I’ve felt affection….actually,thinking of it-longer!!…because I spent three years trying to  earn the love back that I was flowing out to my bride! That turned out to be impossible….she had no idea of love,the concept failed to be a part of her.

I finally was able to locate her last year. I had taken advice from my banker-he said to get a divorce since she could at any time come back and toss me out (Florida has such a law about married folks-they call it community property-what is mine is hers)…and that would be unreasonable! Through the lawyer I got to handle finding her I learned she had been incarcerated in Minnesota for ‘child endangerment’ for driving drunk with her six year old daughter in the car-along with a few pounds of pot (which made no sense-she never could get away from booze long enough to smoke dope)…and along with those charges she was convicted of giving false names to the law. She still was consistent

I cannot say how it makes me feel-other than hurt. To find a person your heart can’t shake-and yet too find that person could cut your heart out….and not even care,it is not an easy pill to take.

I maintain a distance of ‘trust’….I am not able to find someone that I can relax with,always tense about what will be next?

So I suppose that 11 years ago was the last time!

The silence…

July 23, 2008

Originally uploaded by jayfherron


I have to be honest. The way things went a few weeks ago have had an effect on my spirit.
My motivation has been rattled…

I’m getting ready for a phone call from my boss. Yes…well,no I do not work anymore because of my stroke-but I still refer to my former employer as my boss. Actually-I still have that sense that I have to ‘jump too’ when ever the call comes to get together.
Don’t get me wrong-I love getting the calls…knowing my boss considers me a friend (since we hav’nt worked together since 1990) and respects me for the achievements I led the company to during the time there. We had success’s…most likely the most beneficial employment I was ever able to keep (I’d say outside of trucking-yet I drove trucks at this company too…I pretty much did it all here).

The plan is to travel down the St.Johns River in his houseboat-to hear him describe it the thing sounds like a mobile home on pontoons. To hear how much he spent on it makes it sound like a home and not a boat….the flat screen TV set with full channel cable-dish (I’m not sure what they call them)-makes it sound like buying a river front home would be more practical,but what do I know? Keeping my own home together is enough.

I like the river trips my boss and I have done in the past. He grew up on the St.Johns and knows places from Jacksonville to Melbourne to get away and hide from the rush of life. He once took me to a camp site known as Possum Bluff…the only way there was by boat-and it was miles from anything.
I like that seclusion.

I never really could not figure it out why the guy likes me as he does. I think that it might be that when I first started with the outfit in the early 70’s I seemed ‘no count’ and had no motivation to succeed…we seriously had rocky roads-I’d have something happen and I’d quit,or they’d have something happen and I’d get fired…but it was one of those kind of places no one really minded who you were as long as you showed up and did a days work.
In other words-it was not the grandest jobs they had to offer…but it was jobs.

It was it this outfit that built my home…the ‘walked home’ home!
My wife and kids and I had come to a life living in a pup tent in the woods,the same woods in the photograph.
The outfit was a construction company that had a private landfill which was the dumping site for old form materials-lumber which once held concrete in position as it cured.
I used to work all day and then go down into the pit and dig out a few boards worth saving…and hitch hike almost 20 miles with my load.
Thus…the walked home home.

I know my boss knew this…the whole damned company did-the fool hippie who wanted that trash wood…they called it the ‘house that Crom built’…The Crom Corporation was the company’s name.
I didn’t know it all the way back them-but in his silence my boss ‘observed’ my diligence….no automobile-and a family living in a tent and here I am, this hippie coming and working his ass off,and this too…the walked home home.

Years into it all I ended up working there once more-what must of been my 50th re-hire…I was once again in the ‘yard’ as a laborer-a ‘yard dog’ is what they called us.
By mere fluke of chance-I convinced my boss that I could go out into the field (the ‘field’- reference to job sites around the tri-states of Florida Georgia and Alabama) and was capable of setting scaffolds with out being intimidated by the antics of construction superintendant…a long standing standard in the industry to have a ‘super’ be the most largest ass hole on any job.
I did it…they gave me a chance-and I was able to block the superintendants out.
Even an ass hole isn’t going to climb 90 or 100 feet in the air on a set of pipes to rant and rave…so being up on a swinging pipe high in the air had its redemption.
I was successful-the company sent me to Purdue-Calumet University for engineering scaffolding courses and WACO International School of Scaffolding. The experiences I had through the years as their laborer paid off in being adjusted to hard work and feeling better about it earning great money….most of which I dumped on others,as I have never been friend of money-lots of it I dumped on drugs-but that’s another story.

My boss was the first real out side person who heard the story of what happened to me in the barracks D.
After our final days together as employer and me…he fired me in 1990…very lucratively I might add,as I was one of the best scaffold men around at the time-and actually was fired in the morning and by evening had 10 offers to work for competitors,none of which I accepted.
But even after the firing the man stayed interested in me.
I learned from him years later I could have sued the company for the reason they had for firing me….and his perplexed state was why I never had interest in money. And…why I was the way I was?

I never really knew all of the mans feelings-he was just the boss. I never knew what or how he thought on a personal level-but then came the holiday of the tree (I call it crix-mix) and there came an invite to come on that day to have a meal.
I showed up on foot…miles from my own home-and I walked.
The following year…same thing.
The following year…another invite.
They mingled them into Thanksgiving-and those were better,as I enjoy Thanksgiving.
It was at one of those dinners that he asked me why?

I explained what happened-how I enlisted and wanted to serve my country.
I explained to him how I became broken. It was just the right moment-we were sitting up on his second floor deck watching the various members of his nephews and cousins and brothers and family playing volley-ball and other activity’s and it was emotional for me to be there seeing the family like his is-together.
I told him about New Years eve 1969-70 and even said how correct the Bible was about how brothers can be evil to their own brother-like Joseph being sold into slavery by his own brother’s,or Esau taking his brother Jacob’s birth right….
So I told him about being raped-it was amazing to be saying this to an outsider of some regards-and definitely not whom I ever thought to say it to.
This was several years before I ever told the VA.

He does continue to call me. We lunch and I listen about business…which none of it interests me,but theres this need to be attentive-he is my boss.
He called me a few weeks ago to pre-arrange the boat trip….his conversation starter was unusual-he said he had just been talking about me! He had been telling some one about how happy go lucky I am about life and being poor and never having two dimes to rub together…that money never seems to be the answer to happiness for me,but I never seem down about not having any.
He said we can take the houseboat down the St.Johns and find a place to pull into where he can do some fishing and I can dig the silence.

I responded to his comments about my solidity as a poor man-I get to travel in high luxury and it will be on a craft that I am not spending anything on maintain-and when the trip is over I get to go home,and he gets to worry about the dock storage charges and the upkeep…and who’s the one who is better off?
He said that’s why he likes me so much-I keep things in perspective.

As you can see…there’s not much to sit back and read today.
My mind and spirit are mixed and confused.
I feel challenged these last few weeks by the difference…here’s a man that has been around me off and on most of my life since I came to Florida,and who knows me-knows my integrity and my patience…knows my intelligence,and put it to work. Here is a man who goes out of his way to stay in contact with me-despite that we’ve not worked together in almost 20 years!
It’s frigging weird….really!

the Gainesville VA lie-or-let us ice a stale cake

July 21, 2008

my kind of design
Originally uploaded by jayfherron


I finally heard it on the local news this morning-the Gainesville Florida Veterans Administration Hospital broke ground Saturday for the new BED TOWER.
They lauded it as an improvement to better serve veterans.Can’t be so… to have to ad a 250 BED TOWER is not an improvement-it is a sign of what is coming back from our problem in Iraq and Afghanistan.
The funny part of this story is that I’ve known about this BED TOWER for well over a year…my  connections in the local construction industry have brought it up adding that the entire strip of buildings on Archer Road surrounding the VA are all medical towers-the construction of these over the last few years have kept the trades busy.
The construction pal’s I have are not the sole source of the fact the VA building was being added to,besides the fact I have been treated there I also have long time friends that work in various parts of the hospital.
The grumbles from some of them are how the moves have interfered and complicated many of the routines…because to make room for the construction the VA has leased outside buildings around the city. Some of my friends had many extra miles added to their morning drive.
The local story’s on the radio have been icing on a stale cake.
They applauded the opening of a ‘new’ center on 23rd Avenue as an ‘advancement’ in health care for the veteran….it is a lie-it is not an advancement when the move is temporary and only to get one floor of offices out of the way to ad a BED TOWER.
And…it is not just one floor!
Prosthetics-which was once in the basement,where it has been for years….it is now way out on the edge of the city on a street behind a nearly derelict shopping center.
Tell Care-which was once up on second floor…moved to the same location,which makes better sense because ‘tell care’ is a telephone contact only service-so the vet from out of town hasn’t got to spend a part of his day trying to find the place. The other places for the out of town veteran are a trick to find if you are’nt familier with the city.
Mental Health….it too has moved-and was the move that received all the attention several months ago of how great the stale cake was-how ‘wonderful’ it was they were offering such an improvement to the veteran.
It is wrong to hide behind a cheesy false smile like that and expect the rest of the city and nation to believe it…and they do! I had one of my committee members point out what a wonderful job the VA has done to expand as they have…growing,and spreading out to better serve the veteran.Cheesy smile…
They never seem to look at it as where a veteran comes from…what has made the veteran who he and she is….it was such a cheery news report this morning…it too lauding the champion job the VA is doing.
That is NOT an improvement-it is a sign that we are soon to see the influx of returning wounded.
That is NOT an improvement. It is a lie! It is icing on a stale cake.

I am curious how my friends who work there feel-almost like going along with the charade.

the tri-quad-of-me,thanks to PTSD

July 18, 2008

“Maximum” the five pound gaurd dog!

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

I think of them as my being full fledged crazy,so I’ve never much spoken about them.
It was not until I drove to St.Petersburglast November with a therapist who volunteered to drive me there and attend my hearing-that with a federal judge who came down to Florida to hear the cases of veterans who were legitimatly injured on the battlefield,not in the ‘head’ section of barracks D.
They being-Zim Radner ,as told to me by Chet ( a Polish Jew with a New Jersey accent) and the ‘voices’…which is usually only in the wee morning hours-and the woman,who has a name but I’m not saying.

I had not really ever spoken so personally to this friend-the therapist-about my self like this. We had exchanged emails for about a year and she was familier with my case,but I believe she became most familier with me during our 24 hour journey cooped up in a car.
I knew she was a friend of Charlotte (my former therapist from the VA) and that gave me an able sense of trust because I knew what kind of work this woman does. She works with children in a very deep subject of trauma survival.

I never thought of ‘them’ as something I would tell anybody about-I mean,come on…who’s going to tell anyone that you talk to yourself in voices,in actual conversing voices-it is embarressing.
I never thought of them being connected to barracks D,more so thinking it just is a substitute for being alone all of the time.
I learned on the trip that they were protectors that are there….I don’t even know how to explain them.

I do not do well in public situations.
If I go to the grocery (for example) I have got to park way out in the open part of the lot so that I can ‘self hypnotise’ myself into being able to enter the building….okay,I will admit-there is some mumbleing to myself…it comes from them.
I have to focus when shopping. I have not the ability to stand there and check each item,meat prices-or other fresh fruits. I have a basic idea in my head and scramble through the whole ordeal and flee the place as quick as I can. If I meet someone I know I feel like we are standing in a telephone booth as I shut every thing out. I really hate the meetings in stores.
It is very interesting…I have a few things here that were purchased wrong,basic things-non-food…but there is hesitation to go get my money back. If they belonged to you and you had lost the reciept and the thing was useless to you…I can take it back! It is all in the mind I suppose….I can stand up for you,but scare myself when ever it has to do with me.

Over the years I grew accustomed to the self hypnosis to get me through-I am heavily tattood (all of them to cover ‘home made’ tattoo’s put on me in barracks D-jail house tattoo’s) and try to make a walk and scowl on my face that actually does make people step aside….them not knowing I’m shitting my pants wanting to get in and out of there.
Confrontation-of any kind….muddles me.
I cannot hear-if correctly,it does’nt seem so….the sound of bad auto mufflers ring through my ears. Once I was waiting in VA waiting area and some one starting saying something about the person who was on the TV screen on the waiting room TVset….it was something sexual-and my head went into a muddle,and the next thing I knew I was at home.
Once somebody came up to me and said something course and al I know about it was the following day a friend pointed out my statements were rough and included saying something about killing….and I have no idea that I said that because I can’t think to speak in moments of anger or arguement. I just know somehow I flee the scene. I’m not sure how I manage to do it. There are many other times I could talk about-these will just give an example

There is something in my eyes….it is like a wobble of flashes-just on the perifheral of my scope of vision,it is connection with the muddle sound in my ears. The act of confrontation sets it off in a serious way…and I have never been able to escape it.

I found when I was a trucker (the high way big trucks) the isolation and seperation from other employees and people was heaven-and to be in charge of such a machine gave me a strength in who I was at the time. Any one who knows me can tell you I always chose a job that had some oddity to it…like being a mortician,as you can understand-there’s no one hanging around wanting to be your buddy! It was the same with trucking-I learned to haul odd things,huge machines-which often time kept me away from other truckers (but not always…that is not always the case getting freight,but most often is hauling it you are on your own)…

Zim Radner is my focused guy…the one with the wisdom-he also his spoken to me by Chet. Chet-the Polish Jew guy from New Jersey-he tells me about Zim’s rational ways of doing things…like keeping his tools in place-or the certain order of things,funny little serious comments. He must of been quite a guy…according to Chet. I’ve never spoken a word to Zim,nor he me…it only is through Chet that I know of him.

The woman lives with ‘damage control’….and the early morning voices are the bigots-and I know exactly why they are there…and I HATE them.
I assure you….there is NOT a bigoted moment in my heart,it is just these two assholes commenting back and forth-and they are not me,instead it is me they are talking about….they mock me-and talk in a shitty way about me! They are to complicated to explain in just a few lines.

Other than my self hypnosis to enter stores or other venues of where people are….the tri-quad of me (which is what I decided to call them) is in my own private space,thank God-although I’m not sure of what does take place when confronted and the persons voice becomes a muddled sound and all around my vision begins to vibrate….I don’t know what happens-that’s when I wake up at home….other than that I appear to be fairly normal.
Its just that I trust these places with them.

Now you’d look at me and say….bull!shit But it is the truth.

The therapist that drove me to St.Petersburg listened to me as I opened up about them….then I did not realize it was a ‘them’,I just thought I was wacky and being stupid. She explained to me it is ‘disassociated behavior’…meaning I feel safe with these protectors-they offer escape and pseudo trust,but at the same time she said it was result of the tragic way my life went from being a boy upward to barracks D ,with emphasis on barracks D (as I was able work in several mortuaries to grasp an understand that death is for everyone…and came to terms with the deaths in my family and with Mr.Hoke)
I actually long for a good honest death of my own…but that is for another time.

the blasphemy of Christmas

July 13, 2008

Originally uploaded by jayfherron


The following is the response I received from my post from writing about deceit….

It was a half mask Jay – Carol is my middle name. The only time I judged you was when you, in my opinion, were blaspheming about Christmas. The other comments, if you will take the time to reread them, were trying to nudge you into other options – you would have never bothered to answer Dianne or you would have seen them as criticisms from someone who shouldn’t have an opinion. You’re absolutely right about the way I come across – I don’t have any sugar or oil to coat the things I say. I was a little adamant about your not voting – all the while trying to get you to see that good or bad, right or wrong, it’s people in public office that get laws passed and regulations passed down – sensitivity training for example. You didn’t mention in your latest blog that I also told Charlotte that you had raised two fine sons. So, no lies were told and it was only a half mask. And still, I wish you peace. Dianne….
the end.

I cannot understand how much people miss things.
For the people-of the people…that is what government is defined as.
I am a ‘people’…and nobody had to vote for me to have a law made-but,in Levy County Florida a law was changed because of me-a NON-voter and NON-politician…but a citizen. And as a citizen I took two Florida County’s to task over a two mile stretch of road which divides them.
A law was written at the conclusion.
All roads in need of paving in Levy County will paved in the line of necessity and not at the whim of the elected council members who seemed to get their roads paved while others more populated and more driven,did not.
That was because of me…and my every day rally of the people who live out in this wooded rural land.
We have a paved road-every one said it would never happen…but it did.
I still don’t vote-and will not…and yet one of the elected council members contacted me about running his re-election campaign. Yes-he was stunned too by my admission…I’m not into the game.
It is a game! Yet…he applauded my ‘grass roots’ politics!
Here this area was driving down a road that was so dangerous-it even showed up on Doppler Radar from the dust…a road serving two county’s of residents and neither county was about to pick up the tab to provide a safe road.
A NON-elected person held them accountable…and we have two things.
A law.
And a very fine paved road.

And you wait!!
You will one day see me in places you never thought-and by God,it will not have anything to do me so my vote is not in the picture…but I will be speaking out for others,just as I did to get this road paved,and I will be heard.
For the people-of the people. That is what the United States Constitution says our government is.
I am one of them…and during youth I walked freely into an enlistment office at age 17 to join the Navy to defend my right and your right to be free. I had no need for a draft card.

Christmas is blasphemy.
Especially when the one who accuses another of ‘religous’ infidelity’ and has probably a one biblical verse mentality…crixmix (the Christmas thing) is a symbol of mans greed and continual desire to have an idol to worship.
Jeremiah chapter 10 (a book in the Bible) has something interesting to say about cutting down trees-God actually calls it “the way of the heathen” and calls it the “custom of the vain” as they take the tree and decorate it with silver and gold!
I agree…what’s a crixmix tree have anything to do with the birth of Jesus?
Why the people do such a thing…and have to substitute truth with more deception and vain practices by adding a fat jolly elf who is a lie from the very beginning…telling poor children that he’s to honor all of their wishes.
What a crock!
Go read it for yourselves…Jeremiah 10:3 and 4.
But what can that matter? I’m being preached at about my desire to shed myself of the mockery of a true Living God…as it says in Jeremiah 10:10- from a person I’m not even sure has ever read and re-read and re-read the the Bible…or even read it once!…or,perhaps you have-how could I know?

If you want to worship Santa Claus…then you got a holiday-otherwise all you get is the credit card statements at the end of the year and not much more.
Try talking to God! It is far more enriching then to have go through all the attempts to appear religious!

It is good to know the full truth now-Carol.
It makes better sense…even though it is your real name-the excuse is lame. I answered the comments of a person who has no way of being honest…because,what you did was a deception-color it pretty or not.
Have you ever come home and found your window smashed and the person who broke it came in and ransacked your house and stole your things? It is a shitty feeling…actually,you feel it in your gut for several days-a sick churning of nerves and stress.
That what it feels like-knowing you have taken the time to add a new email address and used a name familiar to you but not to me…you couldn’t even be honest about much of the things I have said because you had hid that way…and had to remain silent because you could only be so real…about 50% real.
Kind of weird ain’t it?
You have given me that sick churning feeling-DC!
I feel violated by your trying to be anonymous while all the time you are obnoxious….you see,all this criticism and you have still yet to call on the phone to me personally and say anything….anything! Anything at all….and you can sit there and pick at what you don’t even know! You do not know me-you have never taken the time to know me!
You know what?-my works have had me in conversation with the deputy director of the criminal justice and victims services department of the Attorney Generals office of Florida…we have had personal telephone exchange and this person is carrying my message to others in places of higher contact that I’ve ever reached before….this is not for me-it is for the other veterans who have become the silent wounded.

I have people in my circle who believe I am going to address Congress….this is what my contact at the Attorney  Genrals office believes is going to happen – and many of the people whom I have been working my message with…they support me and encourage me and try to lift me up instead of trying to defeat my purpose. I know it’s difficult to understand-you have such a narrow vision of me,one that certainly has no foundation….because,you do not know me-but there are those who believe in me and believe I am doing something! And,no…you do not have to be elected to address Congress. For the people…of the people!

Blasphemy is a word used in the Bible 11 times….52 times,if you want to count the other wordings-such as ‘blasphemed’ or ‘blasphemer’….no where does it have a ‘claus’ about crixmix (or what the world calls Christmas). Before you point your finger…read some of the Bible and gain some wisdom. And at the same time go and explain to the poor children in so many parts of America-and the world all about the goodness of Santa Claus….such a sad joke!

I’ve been told to QUIT !!

July 12, 2008


Originally uploaded by jayfherron

Well…it is like this:
I am no longer to write what it is I feel…I was told to quit writting about my life. Or,something to that effect.
Stunned is what I am! It is why I have been away from the keyboard since my last entry to this…curiosty met up with reality and I learned my critic that I wrote about was as I had guessed-my former sister in law. Of course-her explaination as why the deception was that I would’nt respond. I will try to find in my heart how to respond-right now my heart feels sick.

I tried to visit my mother this weekend. That was a huge mistake-I returned to my place,which is where they want me. The last thing I remember hearing was “don’t be writing this in your blog anymore”-this said by my brother who for some reason feels he has some kind of control over me.
I am stunned…it truly is a curious life.

I could handle a fatal blow to the head!

the faces of deceit,or…the results of truth

July 7, 2008


Originally uploaded by jayfherron

I had the blessing of being a single father. The truth is,my sons and I raised each other. The more truth is….my sons and I love each other-we hardly end a conversation with out saying so.
I had an odd way of raising up my sons-I taught them no matter what and no matter how hard…the truth was easiest to remember. No matter how small a lie is-the impact can be larger than you think. I taught them values-that money has no value compared to integrity
I only had to spank one of them once-that was in a frenzy and I hope one day we all will forget it.
To give them an idea what value is in regards to being punished I’d drive them out to the State Prison in Raiford just to show them the future that borns itself in a lie and loss of integrity and lack of love-sincere love.
I hate a liar. A lie can be more than just a tale to change things so they sound better-or to change things to avoid being in trouble.
A lie is trouble.
The truth is so easy-the easiest part is remembering it after you’ve spoken it. The truth never goes away to be forgotten-it is always there,alive!
A lie….it goes away as quick as it is spoken,although pieces may remain-the best of it is already broken. You see-no matter how you approach the truth it is easy to answer to….no matter the direction a question may come-the answer is there.
That is what I taught my sons. They have grown to be fine young men-honest men.

My former wife-the person I refer to as the ‘rattlesnake bride’…was a liar. It was too incredible the things she said when she was intelligent enough of a person to know the truth,she could not tell it-she had to lie.
What is a lie?
Pretty much it is a form of deception on a higher scale-it can be as gentle as a prevarication but even then the results can be harmful.

One of the readers recently commented-more less asked the question about how my brother came to be the one who came to arrest me-how he was sent by the Navy. I have to answer that I do not know-the Navy never sat me down and explained any of it. I had to go on instinct to survive  by the time I reached the ship and the threats began…being accused of something I had no knowledge of. My records prove that-being accused of drugs and possession,and yet I had no understanding of what drugs were. The pressure was so deep that I eventually broke and admitted to the accusations-not knowing what was coming. I lied-I told them of the only drugs I could think of…LSD was one of them-that was an easy choice,the others were glue and some pills I had,the ship issued them for sea sickness. I wish I took different measures then-my accusers (my brother one of them) threatened that I was seeing five years in prison ahead of me if I didn’t tell the truth. It all went wrong from there-I was scared to death and lied.
I have no idea how these things came to be-how it was my brother that came…all unknown.

I can guess.
Somewhere near two years ago my therapist at the VA had an opportunity to speak to my late brothers widow-that conversation validated the things I had been saying in their own special way,the most important was she told my therapist that my brother was a very manipulating man….my dictionary says ‘to manage artfully or deceitfully for personal gain’. That is an interesting definition.

It is funny in an odd way how someone can make judgement on a person just because of what they have been told-and not by what is real…and truthful.
I know I’ve been judged that way.

When I think about those comments made by my former sister in law as how my brother manipulated people I thought about how her judgement of me had been affected by the events in the Navy and the lies my brother must have told her. I see it in her comments….yes,she comments in her other name-unable to come out as herself…but yet,one can see the familiar way in her voice-except it is in writing,that tone she’s always carried with me.
She’s knows truth,but hides it because she needs to protect it…because the truth hurts-often.
I believe my brother manipulated the truth way back then in 1969 to the effect that the Navy sent me barracks D.
For the rest of my life I’ve tasted every size of barracks D-even the after tastes.

It took me a while to realize where I heard that voice-why it sounded so familiar…slowly it came to knowledge,the commenter is on ‘bellsouth’ and that bellsouth is in ‘jax’…and that means Jacksonville. Hmmm,and Carol-why isn’t that the first name of my brothers bride? ahhh,no wonder!! You see when a person is jealous they cannot say anything proper-it’s because they are bitter….it is why you cannot respond fully and honestly-because you are manipulating too,manipulating the truth.
Now why should she be jealous? There’s money-I suppose-she has it, I do not and never have. A pool? No…those things are everywhere and a clorox scent is not my perfume-chlorine makes your body so oily. A new car? poof…I can’t even afford the gas my current vehicle-sometimes stranded here for days,so-a new vehicle is nothing to me.
It most likely is my sons….more so that there is envy mixed with confusion-if Jay’s such a lost cause,how’d he raise those two sons to be the men they are? Good men.

I find it peculiar that a person could stand up for someone who abused his own-defending him in front of a judge,my brothers fingers dirty from his crime…and yet did not come forward to stand up in front of a judge to make the statements she made to my therapist…for truth and real justice-for my justice?
My brother was manipulative-artfully deceitful for personal gain!
And yet-you can be so critical with me here as in the past?

It’s no doubt that your comments have been annoying-because they are as they come from baseless thought.
You stand back and watch me-because this man has only just begun to fight back for was was wrong then and is wrong now…I’m going to do more than write letters and make phone calls to an individuals supervisor-I’m going to see that a law is made to shut up people like the man that joked about homosexuals needing to rape,how hard it was for him to comprehend that homosexuals need to rape…the same ignorence you possess.
Now that I figured out who you are….your comments will no longer annoy me-I just pity you.

I’m exhausted…

July 1, 2008

the door to barracks D
Originally uploaded by jayfherron


This road that I find myself moving down is like any other-a road with two sides.
I lived much of my adult life the survivor of rape. A male survivor. A silent survivor.
My attacks were not in the ordinary-considered innocent such as those that might occur to a bystander or jogger….the random attacks. I was taken to a detention barracks…an innocent sailor of 18 who had done nothing wrong-except perhaps entering the space of my older brother,the very person the Navy sent to ‘arrest’ me. I suppose a rape in a detention center is not as criminal as a rape of someone off a jogging trail,no one seemed to care then.

I’ve written about every bit of this that I can in previous pages of this ‘blog’….something like close to 300 times I’ve sat and written to try to open up the eyes of others and relay the need for changes.
The two sided road that I talk about. The road which one side says men are victims too….the other side saying that veterans are returning home as victims too. Why are they on the same road? Because they are silent victims.

I have had many discussion where a person gives the funny look that responds to a statement like mine…men are victims too?

We are really caught up in this modern time that rape and sexual battery is a crime against woman. How many times do we see an article about the male victim? It must mean there are none…but yet there are. Today the State of Florida intends to execute a male-his crime the rape and murder of an 11 year old boy. I am not pleased at any of this…but yet the statement it makes validates the point I am trying to make-males are victims of rape and sexual assault. Adults listen…rape is an age and gender free crime-it happens to many-and any!!

My other side of the road is about the veterans who have experienced rape and sexual assaults while in active duty in service to our country. A military service functioning to protect values and rights and freedoms….and yet,these crimes happen with in those ranks,yet go silent when the victim is released from duty.
I am personally aware that military sexual assault is not an occasional incident-an article in Army Times provides proof of that.
It rates itself as the top military force which has the most reported cases in 2007. The article claims that 1,516 cases were reported…this is only the Army-and only the reported cases. They also state that 90% of the reported victims were female. That leaves 10%….who must be males. That 10% is a significant number,that means 151 men in the Army must have experienced this violation of their body.,0,5399612.story


A commentary in the Los Angeles Times written by Congresswoman Jane Harmon also speaks of the trauma and reports the Veterans Hospital in Los Angeles are receiving. The numbers are troubling.
That is just one part of the regions…one hospital among the many in the United States Veterans Affairs system. How many have the others counted?

I first am confused by the reluctance for anyone to recognize that men are victims too…and how we can continue with the misconceptions that it is only females that are the victims of rape. I believe people have their heads in their boxes for continually accepting that as a fact… fact-we probably have succeeded in keeping men from reporting these crimes because society has stigmatized sexual crimes as those only against woman,and if it happens to a man the stupidity of others opens up. Such as “heck-if a woman raped me…why should I complain?” or….”gee,you’d never think homosexuals had a need to rape each other!!”,which is a comment made to me by a Florida Department of Veterans Affairs officer.

I never meant to say anything about this-EVER.
When I became a victim I was told to get used to it “where we are sending you you’ll have it made-your dance card is already punched”! That the statement from the investigating officer in the Navy who was the first to see me just shortly after I was raped-his comment alluded to that whatever crime I was supposed to have committed was going to land me in prison for several years…five,if I remember correctly.
I had done nothing-yet this what I got for it….
So I lived in it-accepted it with my arm twisted behind my back. Kept and ordered around by my assailants as if I was a piece property.
I had enlisted in the Navy for honor and respect to my country and do my duty-and this is where my honor got me.
Two months later I received an Honorable Discharge from the United States Navy….honor,after spending those months with my controllers? I have no honor.

I lived with this in my life-my present,everyday. So you must believe me when I speak of ‘trauma’….this morning I woke-38 years later and felt the memory as soon as I made a thought.
Once upon a time about three years ago I was told to get validation I should report this to the Veterans Affairs officer-appeal for benefits “if any one deserves it” I was told….and so I did.
It was there I was met with just as much sympathy as I got the day I was beaten up and my ass hole stretched to last to this day. An advocate for me who was a bigot and made judgements about my lifestyle that did not exist….he thought my assailants must have been blacks-and pondered the wonder of it all in curios stupidity “gee…you never think homosexuals need to rape each other”. That’s what he said.

The road with two sides. The anger inside of me that there is no real number to count the real victims-all of the victims…how many kept quiet like I did. How many were too afraid of the stigma to say this happened.
I can understand-I wish too in many ways I never said a word. Why should I have wanted to? Learning from the beginning that I was supposed to go ahead and get used to it….getting used to it,and silently (yet with a fury inside of me called ‘damage control’) and exercising damage control in all ways like drinking and substance abuse to try to hide from it better. Then finally coming to terms with myself and becoming sober for once….I report to the VA hospital one day and am asked if I am ever depressed-and yes,I am….so they give me pills. The pills made me high almost like a mescaline trip….and yet each morning after using the commode I have this reminder of barracks D,and it is continual cycle for these kind of memories. And the VA’s anser for this was pills and further I am expected to accept a man who is confused as why homosexuals would need to rape each other….and this man is supposed to be my veterans advocate and the pills are supposed to heal me-or do like drugs and booze,help me to forget for a few hours?

You see….something is wrong. We first have a blank section in our knowledge. Men are victims-rape and sexual assault harms us too. I suffer each day from the events that took place from all those years ago….it is something I will never forget.
The fact that it happened while I was trying to do my duty to my country compounds the issue-the hurt from that is larger than you can ever know….but then to be re-injured in my mental state by a such in place professional as the veterans advocate who is confused and has no clue,well….I’m exhausted!