Sunday September 11_One Final Last Attempt

One Final, last LAST last Attempt, Sunday, September 11, 2005, Dear JXXXX, One major problem I can see with the Stonewall Silence Approach to Life Comin’ at Ya Fast, Jxxxx, is that some of us have much larger scale imaginations than others. I, for one, try to warn people that, I am very visual and before they describe something in too vivid detail, they deserve to know that. In the case between you and I, where you want to play ignorant to my side of our conflict and just keep your message to one simple “pay us the money”, I feel you deserve to know SILENCE makes me very edgy. I don’t know that you’ve EVER cared enough about me as a person to remember that that is exactly why the husband I had when I came to you landed out on his ear from “our” apartment May of 1999. Although I yet see him as the only peer (as opposed to offspring), “LOVE OF MY LIFE”, I contributed to him experiencing homelessness in his life. I did that because, although I had concluded that he very well may not love me, nor have any real desire to stay married to me, it was only after it dawned on me that he might not even like me; and he tipped his hand to conveying that with the merest nod in answer to my outright question about that, my IMAGINATION went absolutely screamin’ meamin’ bonkers! Now, it just may be, my knowing I contributed to his experiencing homelessness -- I am taking my own responsibility here, and desiring to alert you. Or, it may be that I so clearly remember being homeless myself ----- ALREADY; when I was in the age group you are in now, which to the best of my knowing is, between forty and fifty: Whichever the reason may be, this is the best I can think to do.
‘t ain’t necessarily true -- Back to Jxxxx final LAST attempt, Sunday, September 11, 2005, I am trying to be fair with you, Jxxxx, because I too am a woman. In the last thirteen years of my life I have experienced what it is like to have been raised with the notion that a “REAL MAN” WOULD (take care of me) PROVIDE for me, if I would just be a good wife: as in do the best I knew how to love him and bear his children, speak to him, confer with him, be subservient to him, try never to let him know I may know more than he might know – about anything – or relate better than he might relate – to anything, or anyone. Need I mention that all that was pretty much implied (speaking very minimally) over and over every time I went to church? ALL THAT, only to be caught completely off guard and surprised, -- completely out of my goony brain --
THAT ‘t ain’t necessarily true.