treadingthomas

[treadingthomas]

The Story - Part 4

The Revelation

June 2019 – A Letter

Hi Rick,

My name is Greg.  There is no easy way to say this, so I am just going to say it straight out – you are my biological father.

This past Christmas, for fun, my wife and I took a couple of ancestry DNA tests – 23 & Me and Ancestry.com.  On 23 & Me, I matched with some Daceys as distant cousins.  On Ancestry.com, I matched with your sister Mary Ann as a full-blooded aunt.

For a while I thought Mary Ann might be my grandparent’s first-born daughter given up for adoption.  It was either that or my own mom was adopted.  Nothing made sense until I sat down and spoke with my mother about what I found.

Her maiden name is Kathleen McCarthy.  She was born and raised in Scituate.  When we spoke, she was the one who broke it to me.  She said she figured it out about a week before.  She remembers you and, while the details are vague, there was something about a party and I think a weekend down at the Cape. She swears she didn’t know you were the father and right now I am choosing to believe her.

My parents have been separated for over twenty years and I haven’t told my father. For now, my brother and I have agreed we won’t.  

It’s taken me about six months to wrap my brain around this.  My apologies for the shock.  If you decide you want to reach back out, I’ve included my contact information below.  I have no idea what the next step should be, so if you have any thoughts, I’m all ears. Right now, it’s like I’m wandering in the jungle chopping away at the underbrush looking for a trail to follow but not finding one.  Basically, I’m making it up as I go.  There is only one thing I can confidently say I want – I’d like to meet you at least one time before we leave this earth.

I don’t know what is supposed to happen now, but I have included some pictures of myself and my family.  My wife’s name is Kim and I have two little girls – Paige Elizabeth (5) and Charlotte Rose (18 months).

I also don’t really know how to close this letter.  Sincerely?  Best Regards? Respectfully?  I think I am just going to keep it simple and say Thanks.

Before the Revelation

The short of it is this: I did not pay for the Ancestry tests, but they were sent to me anyway.  

The long of it is this: I bought two Ancestry.com kits for my wife and I for Christmas.  I told my mother-in-law about it and she said that I should cancel the order – suggesting that someone had already purchased the same thing for me.  I cancelled the order within an hour of making the purchase and I got my money back.  I have the credit card history as well as an e-mail chain with the Ancestry.com support team showing that the money was returned and the order was cancelled.

For Christmas, my wife had purchased two 23&Me ancestry DNA kits.  They were not from Ancestry.com where I had been putting together a huge family tree, but it was still a cool gift.  Then the two Ancestry.com DNA kits arrived as well.  I didn’t pay for them, but here they were.  When I received the results, I found a mystery aunt on Ancestry.com.

 After the Revelation

I am forced to keep this huge, gigantic lie inside and only let it out in pieces, to certain people, at certain times.  I don’t think I can do that forever.

I could not keep my experience inside in 2004 and I kept trying to find ways to express what I was experiencing in a way that people would understand.  Now I am experiencing this complete and utter identity destruction.  I know that a conscious intelligent being greater than myself does indeed exist and can interact and lead when necessary.  I need to be led right now and I am asking for help. These are muddy waters and I do not know what to do.  

 Lost

I hung out with my father today and I am glad that I did.  He does not know about the DNA results and currently I do not plan on ever telling him.  I have known for about four months, and have not yet decided if I will reach out to the man I now know is my biological father; but there is something else on my mind tonight: of the hundreds of people listed as genetic relatives to me on Ancestry.com, I do not know a single name.

I was able to determine who my biological father was because I connected to his sister Mary, but other than her, the closest relative is a third cousin that I do not know.  I am very familiar with the lineages of both my mother’s parents back to Ireland on my grandmother’s side, and the Mayflower on my grandfather’s side, but none of the last names listed anywhere in my genetic connections are familiar to me.

I have not yet asked my mother to take a DNA test.  I did ask one of my cousins, but she did not want to.  If I ask others, then my genetic results will be known to more people, and I am not comfortable with that yet.  However, I have this nagging feeling, this question that keeps lingering in my brain.  It is probably stupid and I am probably overthinking, but it keeps pinging around in my head like an undulating echo that never ends.

What if I was stolen as a baby?

I know which last names I should see in my connections, but they are simply not there.  Until I see a connection on my maternal side that makes sense and proves I am my mother’s son, I will not be able to let it go. Maybe I am just looking for more trouble where it doesn’t exist. Most likely it is because no one close on the maternal side took a DNA test so there is no one to match to.

What if my mom has a different father and does not know it – like what happened to me?  That is a possibility, and it makes me think twice about asking her to take one but I need to see a connection somewhere. I need to know that I am connected genetically to someone I know.  Anyone.  Of the dozens of people I believe are close relatives of mine, there must someone I am connected to genetically.

Right?

[treadingthomas]

An Anthem of Reason

[treadingthomas]

The Story - Part 3

Here Comes the Crazy

Aunt Dotty

Dorothy L. Kane was the middle child.  Rose was two years older, and Johnny was the baby of the three.  Dotty was born October 14, 1935 and she was 13 when her mom passed.  

In February of 2019, I asked her about the time surrounding 1955, when Rose married Jimmy and moved to the house on Jericho Rd.  My mother had provided some broken timeline stories and I needed to piece it together. I had a mystery on my hands from the results of the DNA test that I had received back from Ancestry.com and understanding Dotty’s story was key.

The main timeline conflict was about when Dotty went to Washington DC; when, for how long, and why.

Dotty’s Story – Went to DC with Father Joe from 1959 – 1963.  Four years.

My Mother’s Story – She went to DC earlier – maybe 1956 – and Grandma Rose had to pick her up from DC in 1958, just after Kathleen was born.  This is also evidenced by Grandpa Jim’s memory – he says that Dotty went to DC before she moved in with him and Rose, meaning 1955 or 1956.

Evidence:

·        My mother suggested that Grandma Rose went to pick Dotty up from DC just a few weeks or months after she was born (1958) and it was because Dotty had a “breakdown”. This must have come from my grandmother at some point.  My mother and her were close.

·        Dotty said straight out that she had a breakdown and went with Father Joe to Washington DC in 1959.  If this is correct, where was Dotty from 1955 to 1959?

·        Dotty said she watched John F Kennedy’s car / cavalcade go by her once.  She did not actually see the president but knew it was him because of the cavalcade. JFK became president on Jan 20, 1961, meaning Dotty was in DC at some point after that date.

·        Dotty described two jobs she had – each one for about 2 years or so.

I have always been told that Dotty was a bit “off”; possibly a form of schizophrenia. I personally have never seen her act in a manner that suggested she had any form of psychiatric issue, but my mother says it’s true.  I have been told that Dotty talks to herself – or that she talks to “someone else”.  I know that she has had “breakdowns” because she told me as much in our own conversations.

Dotty confirmed that my grandmother Rose, and their mom and dad, moved from Rockland to Scituate in the early 1940’s – before Johnny was born. Then they moved to the six-family building on First Parish Road, and by all accounts, they were quite happy.  I have a picture of the entire family together during this time – Mom, Dad, Rose, Dotty, and Johnny – and you can feel the happiness in the photograph.  Every time I look at it, I cannot stop staring.

           Tragedy struck in the years between when the picture was taken and when Rose married Jimmy and moved to Jericho Road in 1955.  In 1948, the Kane family lost their mother to kidney cancer.  Then, just two weeks before Rose and Jimmy were to get married, her father was hit and killed by a drunk driver on Hanover street in Boston.  

Dotty told me that her breakdown was in 1959, and that was when she was sent to DC to stay with Father Joe – who was some sort of relative.  While Dotty says that this was 1959, my mother says that Grandma told her that she had to pick Dotty up from Washington in February or March of 1958, which would mean that Dotty had a breakdown and went to DC earlier than she suggested to me. My grandfather’s memory also suggests that she went to DC nearer to 1955 than 1959.

So that is the conundrum.  How do I get to the truth?

The Return Home

 I remember being picked up from Springfield in late 2004.  My mother had come to get me after one of my friends reached out to her about the “crazy” I was being.  She let me live at her house and I began working at Borders Book & Music.

I continued to have conversations with God daily. As I shelved the books, I would ask a question silently - and His response would show itself on the bindings of the books.  There would be three or four books next to each other and the words would be placed in such a way that they would specifically and undeniably answer the question I just asked silently in my head.  At other times, the answer would come in the form of an actual voice – I would overhear a specific set of words that would accurately and concisely answer my silent question.  The voice would be the cashier speaking with a customer for example, and the specific response to me would suddenly become more prominent.  It would be a direct response to the conversation I was having silently in my mind.

For the better part of a year, twenty-four hours a day, even in my dreams, I was completely engulfed in conversation and interaction with God, demons, angels, Jesus, mysterious beings, and just about anything else you could possibly imagine.

Scary shit.

 The First Night – April 2004

 I don’t care to think about Shannon long enough to tell you anything about him.   I don’t like him – I don’t even like the idea of him.  He was a drug dealer (“only until my school loans are paid off”), a hippy, and his musical taste entirely consisted of Phish and Phish-like groups.  However, he was in the music scene, and everyone who lived at Hollywood St knew him from our days in college.

Prior to early 2004, he had lived with his girlfriend Nikki and her family, but there was an opening at Hollywood St and he was interested.  The Hollywood St home had housed various combinations of friends over the prior decade. At that moment, Shannon’s friend Ryan was in one of the Hollywood St bedrooms on the first floor, and I was in a second.  The 3rd bedroom on the first floor was empty.  Harley lived on the second floor all alone – or maybe Natty was living there at the time, I don’t remember.  Somehow it became acceptable to allow Shannon to move in, have his bedroom on the first floor and have his office on the second floor in the empty corner room (with the good windows – I was a little jealous).

I tried to open my mind and allow myself to accept and like him.  It was mostly a selfish gesture because he had music connections.  I had quit Lego about 6 months prior and was currently working a part time, low-wage job at WNEC while taking full-time classes.  I had cashed out my 401K to survive.  I needed to like him because it was my last chance to full-on dream-chase a music career.  So Shannon moved in.  One night I was upstairs hanging out on the sofa in his messy-ass office, and he was behind his desk making music or doing Photoshop work for some obscure band or other.  He reached into his ten-pound bag of mushrooms (literally - he had a 10-pound bag of mushrooms) and gave me a few stems.  I was never much of a fan of drugs outside of pot, but I had previously tried - and didn’t hate – mushrooms; so I ate them.

We hung out for a few hours and near the end of the night some of my insecurities began to come out.  I laid myself out on his couch with a blanket over me and I felt like a little kid for some reason.  He told me about some idea he had – I think it was a phone that auto-detected tolls as you drove by on the highway or something – and he said not to tell anyone because it was some big secret super crazy idea that was going to make him millions. About a week later, Ryan started telling me about a different idea he heard Shannon describe, but he cut himself off mid-sentence and under his breathe he said, “Oh wait.  I’m not supposed to talk about that…”  I don’t know what games Shannon was playing, but it was weird.  Anyway, the rest of the night was low-key and I went to sleep around four in the morning.

The next day something was off.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I called my father’s house and talked with his wife Karen.  I said, “Have you ever felt like you were in a trance?  I feel like I’ve been in a trance for years and something just snapped me awake.  I don’t know what’s happening, but something is off right now.”  

And that is how it all began.

As the weeks progressed, I eventually stopped the intake of all forms of drugs and alcohol.  I was absolutely terrified by what was happening.  Because I ate mushrooms near the beginning of the experience in the spring of 2004, I have always questioned whether it was divine or just drug induced.  Most often, I choose to believe it was divine.  I choose to believe that my actions over the next months – some of which I often feel are unforgiveable - were directed by some divine entity.  And since I continue to experience divine conversations and interventions more than fifteen years later, I keep that thought saved under the heading, “Reasons to Continue to Believe”.

[treadingthomas]

First new written and recorded song in a decade?  Sorry about the background... ;-)

[treadingthomas]

The Story - Part 2

1 - The Year is 2 B.C.    * The Fire, Part 1 - April  24th, 2002    * Radio Shack    * The Cosmic Rubber Band - February 2003    * The Aftermath 2 - The Year is 2 A.D.    * December 2006    * December 2006 - Part 2

The Year is 2 B.C.

 The Fire, Part 1 –April 24, 2002

It was a clear, chilly late winter, early spring night.  I could see stars through the break in the trees from my back porch and I had been working out consistently for eight months; I only had the occasional cigarette every now and again.  I had a girlfriend, on and off anyway, who was the first adult relationship I had ever had. I lived alone in a four-family house above my landlord and his mother, and the apartment next to me was rented out as well.  When I moved in, there was brown, crusted stuff in and around the toilet and tub, and the whole place was covered in an unnamable, smelly grime.  It was not fit for habitation.  It was disgusting, but it was mine.

The apartment was in Indian Orchard, Massachusetts, which is really just the north end of Springfield, and I was a young white kid trying to get the hell out of the city.  I had two-and-a-half years of college behind me, but no degree.  I moved in, cleaned up the place, and engulfed myself in songwriting, work, and soul searching.  I worked third shift at Lego, drove to Amherst weekly for guitar lessons, smoked weed, and enjoyed my life.  I was also saving money so I could move out and into a better, healthier apartment. I had almost saved up enough cash to make the move and was just waiting on my state tax return to come in. 

 The back door to my apartment was at the top of the rear porch stairs.  My neighbor’s door was at the end of the porch. On the left was an old fake leather chair and five-gallon bucket filled with soil and dirt.  The stairwell was mostly enclosed with a half-wall that went the length of the deck, and the porch was as long as the house.  That night, I had one of those occasional cigarettes.  It was ten pm, I had been awake for about an hour, and work started at 11.  It was a cool, nice night and I went down the back stairs and around to the front of the house to get my mail.  Lo and behold, the tax check had arrived.  Nothing in the world could have made me happier.  I took that check and put it in my wallet because I wanted to keep it close; that piece of paper felt like it held my freedom. I walked around the back of the house, up to my back door, flicked my cigarette butt into the five-gallon bucket, and went inside to finish getting ready for work.

At eleven o’clock I punched in and at 2am we had our first break of the night; that’s when my supervisor George found me.  He said, “Greg, come here, I got to talk to you.”  

We were outside, behind the break room.

“What’s up?” I said.

“Uh, we got a call, and, well, your house was on fire, and the arson investigator wants to talk to you.”

I just looked at him.  I thought he was joking at first, but he kept my gaze.

I said, “You’re not kidding, are you.”  More of a statement than a question but I repeated it anyway. “You’re not kidding, are you.”

“No, you have to go see them.  Do you want a ride?  I’ll take you.”

“No.  I got to go. Thanks.”

As I left the break area, George said that another supervisor had taken the call and that I should go talk to her before I left.  She was at the other end of the building in the office – which was on the way out - so that’s where I went.

I walked in the office, saw the other supervisor, and said, “Tell me he’s joking.”

“What do you mean?” she replied, leafing through some paperwork.

For a split second, I thought George played a cruel joke on me.  

“Tell me he was joking.”

“Oh…”  Ding-ding-ding; I could see the bells going off in her head.  “Yeah… I got a call from security saying that a Springfield arson investigator wanted to talk to you because your house was on fire. Don’t worry, I was told that nobody was hurt.  Do you want a ride?”

“No, no…. thanks.”  

I got in my car and sped home.

The ride felt odd.  I drove above the speed limit, but I wasn’t out of control, I was just confused.  I didn’t know anything yet.  I didn’t know how bad it was, if the house was gone, if my apartment was even touched.  I expected the worse but hoped for the best.  At least they said everyone was all right.  At least no one was hurt.

 Radio Shack

In the Fall of 2002, I put my cell phone inside my lunch bag temporarily and then forgot it was there.  Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have been an issue, but on this day, I had also left a leaky water bottle in there.  The next day I brought the now non-functional phone back to the Radio Shack where I had bought it five months earlier, right before my apartment burned down.  I was hoping they could fix it or maybe replace it.  The girl that was helping me said I could return the broken one and get a new one at the sale price advertised in their store, but for some reason she had to call her boss to make it happen.   Once she got off the phone, she told me I was not eligible for an upgrade. She said she could not sell me a new phone at the sale price, or even at the much higher small print price.   If I wanted a new phone, I would have to pay the super expensive, over four-hundred dollar, “just-for-Mr.-Holmes” price.  According to her, there was no way around it; so I did not have the money she was asking for and I had no way to contact the outside world.  

I got mad.  In my head, someone, somewhere, created a loophole to screw whoever ended up in that situation at that specific time.  I got so angry.  I yelled and took it out on the girl.  I told her that Radio Shack screwed me, and she said something like “How are we screwing you?”, and it just enraged me further.  I made a huge scene, took the phone back, and left.

At the time, I thought Radio Shack and that girl deserved my ire; but I was wrong.  Beneath it all, I knew the girl wasn’t actually responsible, but I couldn’t help myself.  My apartment had burned down and I barely had anything at all.  All my incoming money was going right back out as soon as I got a paycheck.  Now, because of Radio Shack, I would have to spend Four. Hundred. Dollars. on a new phone.  

I took it out on the girl.  

 The Cosmic Rubber Band – February 2003

If I remember correctly, my friend Harley coined the term “cosmic rubber band”.  According to Harley, the cosmic rubber band is the world that surrounds us and everything that encompasses what we know of as ‘real’ - like the Matrix.  The cosmic rubber band is how the world and our surroundings affect us as individuals.  It is the good, the bad and the medium.  It is the swing from one way to the other, pleasure to pain for example, within each person’s life.  It is the small swings in our daily lives to the large arcing swings that ignore time and place.

Like the cosmic rubber band, time swings back and forth as well.  For example, if you get a letter that states you have been sued, you may get anxious or worried or excited – and your perception of time slows down or speeds up. Whether time is moving slowly or quickly, or the cosmic rubber band has snapped to the left or the right, I always try to learn from the choices and mistakes I make.  

By February of 2003, I had collected some “Life Philosophies”. The first one was a quote from Gandhi.  He said, “Live as if you were to die tomorrow.  Learn as if you were to live forever.”  It is a nice philosophy, and one I still try to live by each and every day.

This brings me to the second life philosophy I had, and this one was all mine.  ‘Live by which you claim’.  When my actions and thoughts do not correspond to this philosophy, I need to slow down and refocus.  That is when I work hardest to keep driving forward, even in the face of blackening clouds and increasing winds.  I know someday the storm will be over.

The third philosophy was, “It’s not the fact that something happens, it’s all in how you handle it.”  Every situation is different therefore every reaction is different; and some situations are totally out of your control.  I have learned that it is important to take things in stride and allow the wind to blow where it may.

The Aftermath

 Let’s take a trip now back in time

To an easy, early day

When there were no worries to be found.

And on this easy, early day

Outside and my guitar playing

Close my eyes, imagine there’s a crowd

Oh, and once in a while I still see them

‘Round the corner, now down my street

Oh, and sometimes they’re bleeding

Oh, and sometimes… they sing!

“Stop crying now baby! And just dance the night with me!

Yeah stop crying now baby!  And come on home with me!”

So, the grass grows now every spring and the warm weather it means something

And girls in grass skirts and bare feet - Oh Lord!

And the – Sunshine means everything as it, shine down and heal my sin,

My soul it let the loving in!

“So, stop crying now baby!  And dance the night with me!

Yeah stop crying now baby!  And come on home to me!”

And here we go!

Back to, the Crossroad again!

And here we Rise!

Oh, because we can!

Stop crying now baby – and dance the night with me!

Yeah stop crying now baby – and come on home with me!

 On the night of April 24th, 2002, my first apartment burned down and everything I owned was destroyed.  I did not have apartment insurance.  On April 6th, 2005, a large insurance company sued me. They had paid a claim to one of the neighbors and were trying to recoup their money.  

I contacted several lawyers, none of which would take my case without an exorbitant upfront cost.  Every one of them told me to settle, meaning “pay the insurance company what they are asking for”, but I had no money and no possessions and, with nothing to lose, I defended myself against the insurance company in a court of law.

The following letter was my response sent to the insurance company’s lawyer after the discovery phase of the trial, as directed by the Judge.

Mr. Plouffe:

In response to the inquiries made in the letter that you sent, along with the discovery packet, I would first like to thank you for your prompt delivery of the material.  I was quite eager to find out the basis of your client’s complaint.  Per our meeting in court on the 12th of July 2005, I will answer your queries to the best of my knowledge and as completely as possible.

           I would like to begin by stating that the conclusions arrived at by George A. Butler Adjusters, Inc. astounded me.  According to the fire report that I obtained just over a month ago (of which I have enclosed a copy), the cause of the fire is still under investigation. As far as I know, the fire investigator assigned to this incident determined the area of origin but no definite, specific cause.  As to the origin, I was led to believe that it started on the rear porch, second floor, on my apartment’s side.  This was a common smoking area for both my upstairs neighbor as well as myself. This was a shared, common rear porch. My neighbor was home at the time of the fire, and he had company.  I was not. I had left almost two hours prior to the alarm (time given on the enclosed fire report) and was at work. At 2:30am, I received a message from one of my supervisors stating there had been a fire and I was being asked to come to the scene.  I arrived to find all my belongings destroyed.  In the end, I was unable to even save the clothes on my back.

           Per your question as to who may have started the fire if I did not, I can only speculate.  I deny responsibility for causing the fire.  I deny any negligence on my part whatsoever.  I deny ever admitting to anyone that I was the one who caused the fire.

           You also asked me in your query if I pursued anyone for my losses.  As this was my first apartment, I had no apartment insurance; to be frank, I did not know apartment insurance even existed.  I still do not know if I could have collected from my landlord’s house insurance.  My Sears card was insured, luckily enough, and it covered a few of the purchases that I had made over the previous three years.  Beyond that, the American Red Cross helped by giving me some basics and a little bit of money toward a new bureau, bed, and kitchen table.  A couple of people started small collections to help get me back on my feet.  Otherwise, I received nothing and pursued no one.

A year ago, I moved back to Rhode Island to be near my family.  I am still at the point of insolvency and in debt. At this point in time, I am doing the best I can to keep from going bankrupt.

           I have also struggled to understand our legal system and all the intricacies that come with a complaint being filed against me.  I realize now why I never pursued a law degree.  The courtroom is best left to those who work with our legal system every day, such as yourself Mr. Plouffe, but unfortunately I do not have the luxury of being able to hire someone to defend me.  I do not have any assets Mr. Plouffe – I live in the red – and I would very much like to find a way to stop this litigation.  I ask that you please contact me at the number listed at the top of this letter as soon as you can.  If I am not available, please leave a time and a number to reach you when you are free to speak and I will make the time to contact you then.  I ask that you take into consideration the circumstances that I have previously described, and the next time we speak, I hope we can come to an agreement and bring this litigation to a conclusion.

           This letter also confirms that we have a Pre-Trial Conference date of October 25, 2005.

                                                                                   Sincerely,

                                                                                     Gregory T. Holmes

 I sent that letter on July 27, 2005.  I received a response on company letterhead from the attorney on August 5, 2005.

Re:      Norfolk & Dedham Mutual Fire Insurance Co. vs.        Gregory Holmes

Dedham District Court # 0554-CV-0333

Dear Mr. Holmes:

           My client has decided not to pursue the matter any further based on your representation that you were not responsible for the fire.

           Please sign the enclosed Stipulation of Dismissal and send it back to me so that I may file it with the court.

                                               Very truly yours,

                                               Richard J. Plouffe

  The Year is 2 A.D.

 ‘Remember the angels who did not stay within the limits of their proper authority, but abandoned their own dwelling place: they are bound with eternal chains in the darkness below, where God is keeping them for that great Day on which they will be condemned.’

Jude 1:6

 December 2006

Assuming God exists, I wonder if He holds free will as a priority for us humans.  That would lend some sense to why “bad” things happen.  However, in my own personal experience, I would not have chosen to do or say many of things that I did in 2004, had I not believed that God was “leading” me.  If my experience was divine and not some sort of extended hallucination, then God purposely misled and manipulated my reality to cause me to “choose” to do things I would normally not have done.  In that case, the only way to fit free will into the equation is to say that I “chose” to let God lead me.  

If that is what happened, then free will – at least when in the presence of God - is bullshit.  When God shows up, no matter who you are, you will follow whatever path He puts before you without a second thought.  There is no wonder to whether you are choosing correctly, no questioning what you should do or if your actions are right or wrong – there is only “Holy shit!  You're real?!”  Gulp, shiver, dribble, dribble - “What now?”, and off to the races you go.  There is no free will at that moment.  You do as you are told, and that is that.

Does God know the past, know the future, and know everything about everything?  He told me that that my music would touch a lot of people, but my words would touch the world.  I have yet to see that happen and at this point I doubt it ever will.  How could God know and there still be free will? If he knows the future then the future is already determined, negating the concept of free will.  Maybe he knows the choices we will make because he has been around for so long, and he knows all the decisions and directions we will choose to go – kind of like Bill Murray in “Groundhog Day”.  

In my experience, he guaranteed certain things would happen.  He guaranteed that my grandfather would “see me succeed before he died.”  Right now, in 2006, my grandfather is in his eighties and his health is not good.  He also guaranteed that everyone is going to heaven.  If that is the case, then that means there is no right and wrong.

If my experience were real and my perception was correct, why would he say those things to me?  Did he do it to give me hope?  Why is he telling me the future at all?  If it comes true, does that mean free will is null and void?  What if it doesn’t come true?

Maybe I went crazy and none of this stuff ever really happened.  That means that the God-given guarantees and predictions are not real and my unconscious mind pulled them out of thin air.  If so, I should probably be in a hospital somewhere telling doctors and psychiatrists my innermost fears and desires and blabbering about angels and dead people and alternate realities and mind control.  

The negation of God from the equation does create room for human free will, but I guess the answer to whether we have free will or not depends on your own personal experiences, beliefs, and perceptions.  In my case, the answer is, “I don’t know.” And honestly, I am good with that.  

 December 2006 – Part 2

The concept of a loving and good God is an especially touchy subject with me. A Christian-Judaic concept is that God has agape – which means God's love is “unconditional and universal in its range.  It is given to someone, not because she or he has special characteristics, but simply because that person is there as a person.  The nature of agape is to value a person in such ways as to actively to seek his or her deepest welfare and fulfillment.”

I may have felt that way when I was younger, but September 11th changed that for me.  If God is real and can interact with human consciousness, then God allows these things to happen, which in turn shows that he condones it.  

God knew that these people were going to fly planes into the World Trade Center – they had been planning it for years – yet he did nothing to stop them. How can I respect or forgive a God that allows that?   There is nothing I can do to punish him for his lack of leadership except punish myself.  If we are his “children”, then he would want us to be happy – therefore I submit myself to misery.  

If I were strong enough, I would kill myself to show him that his actions – or inactions – are unacceptable.  But I am not that strong.  People would not understand.  You would not understand.  I desire to be loved by God.  He wants me to consider the beautiful day and warm sun as “love”, but September 11th is not a fair trade for a nice day.  

Maybe I should accept my fate, enjoy the day, be happy that I am home with my family, and love every minute – but I simply cannot.  To do so, I would have yet to find a way to accept the “loving” God as the God that allows Roman crucifixion, the Holocaust, and September 11th. I do not think that I will ever be able to merge the two… unless I accept the idea that God is not all-powerful, or God is simply not real.

[treadingthomas]

The Story - Part 1

1 - For My Girls 2 - The McCarthys - Grandma Rose & Grandpa Jim 3 - 2019 - It Deserves Its Own Chapter & Grandma Rose Passes

“If after every tempest came such calms, may the winds blow until they have wakened death.” - Othello

 For My Girls

Hi girls – I love you both very much and I want to pass on some wisdom that I learned a long time ago.

Find a nice day to go outside and take a walk. Let the sun warm your neck, your face. Close your eyes and feel the sun’s embrace. It may dip behind a cloud and become cooler and a little less bright, but soon the sun will come back out and kiss you again.  Open yourselves and consciously enjoy these moments. This is when time slows down. When the sun hides behind another cloud, it is simply preparing for the next embrace.  Find a way to make it through those cloudier times and I promise the sun will come out again.  

Everything means something.  We are forced to make a thousand different choices every day, and every choice affects an infinite number of other choices.  Make good choices; the Universe helps those who help themselves.

I believe there is an intelligent conscious being or beings – God, angels, passed relatives – that is mostly invisible to our five senses but can interact with our world.  I believe that if we look for them, we can see them in action.  Allow yourself to be led when you are most in need. Let the Universe lead you.  The divine, conscious, intelligent, invisible beings are indeed most simply and plainly, Love – and they can help to guide you through your darkest moments.

I love you both very, very much.  Daddy {hearts} Paige and Daddy {hearts} Charlotte. Hugs and kisses forever.  I will always be there when you need me the most, even after I am gone from this earth.  

The McCarthys

On July 24th, 1927 in Scituate, Massachusetts, James Anthony McCarthy Jr., first and only child of James Anthony McCarthy Sr and Marguerite Pratt, was born.  On March 27th, 1933 in Rockland, Massachusetts, Roseanne Kane, first born daughter of John Joseph Kane and Mary Ellen Caplice, also came into the world.  In 1955 they married, and in 1956 they gave birth to Rosemarie – the first of five children they would have together.  They had a wonderful life in their little home overlooking the lighthouse, and they grew old together.

           In September of 2018, at the age of 85, Roseanne Kane McCarthy passed.  I wrote and gave her eulogy.  Her husband Jimmy is still alive as of this writing. He lives with Dotty, Rose’s younger sister, on Jericho Rd in Scituate, Mass, and he has been living there since he and Rose got married.  Roseanne Kane McCarthy and James Anthony McCarthy Jr. are my maternal grandparents.

 Grandma Rose

As I mentioned, Roseanne Kane was born March 27, 1933.  Her father, John Joseph Kane, was 34 and her mother, Mary Ellen Caplice, was 29.  They lived in Rockland, Massachusetts.  Dotty was the second daughter, born two years later, on October 14, 1935.  She was Rose’s little sister and they loved each other very much.

There was an eight-year gap before their baby brother, John, was born on May 31, 1943.  Perhaps Johnny was a bit of a surprise or maybe Mary and John realized this might be their last chance to have a third child.  In any case, John was 44 and Mary was 39 when Johnny was born.

In the early 1940’s, the Kane family moved from Rockland to a three story, six family building on First Parish Rd in Scituate, Ma.   There were lots of kids around for them to play with. The house was a picture-perfect Victorian built in the 19th century, and solid as a rock.  It was next to the Scituate train station where young Rose would travel to and from her job at an Army base in Boston.  Inside the Victorian were eight-foot-tall ceilings, carved and decorated woodwork, and small little enclaves for the kitchen and pantries.  Past the large chandelier hanging in the entryway, was a wide, winding, wooden stairwell, where the children yell up and down to each other and laugh as they did. Not long after the Kane’s moved in, Johnny was born.  To the children, it was paradise.

At some point in 1944, Mary Ellen Caplice was diagnosed with kidney cancer.  Dotty was 8, Johnny was just a baby, and their father John now needed to work longs hours so he could feed and house them all.  Rose, at just 11 years old, took on the family’s matriarchal duties, while also taking care of her sick mother.  In 1948, tragedy struck the Kane family, and Mary Ellen Caplice passed away.  This left John Joseph Kane as a single, 49-year-old father of three children.  Rose was 15, Dotty was 13, and Johnny was 5.  They were now just a family of four.  Then, in May of 1955, seven years after Mary died and just two weeks before Rose’s wedding, their father was hit and killed by a drunk driver on Hanover street in Boston.

 Grandpa Jim

James Anthony McCarthy Jr was born on July 24, 1927 during the Great Depression.  He was the only son of James Anthony McCarthy Sr and Marguerite Louise Pratt.  Jimmy grew up in Scituate, as did many of his close and distant relatives.  The McCarthy line goes directly to the Mayflower and were some of the original settlers on American soil.  The McCarthy/Pratt/Longfellow/Sewall lineage is long and wide.

Around 1945, near the end of World War II, the eighteen-year-old decided he wanted to join the Navy.  He lived near the ocean, owned a small boat and had been a lobster fisherman, and he wanted to see the world, so the Navy seemed a perfect fit.  At 18 years old, Jimmy signed up and shipped out, beginning his first tour of naval service aboard the USS Chiwawa.

The boys of the Chiwawa sailed up and down the eastern coast of the US before heading toward France and crossing the Atlantic in 1946, just after the US dropped the atomic bombs in Japan.  When they arrived, Jimmy found some free time and headed off-ship to the PX where he could have some fun.  On the way, just as he rounded the top of the hill, he ran straight into a group of unbound German prisoners.  The five or six-hundred strong were out for their daily calisthenics, and they were directly in Jimmy’s path.  He was all alone.  Heart beating, he stood as tall as he could and stepped forward.  The prisoners slowly stepped back, forming a path in front of him.  Jimmy would tell this story for the rest of his days, every time comparing it to the parting of the sea for Moses.  As he passed, many of the prisoners nodded in an informal salute.  Around the corner and out of site, he let out his breath and wiped the sweat off his face before continuing.  While at the PX, and even though he was enjoying his time there, he knew he had to walk back to the ship at some point and back through those prisoners, so he was in no hurry to leave.  A few hours later, once he mustered up the courage, he made his way back to the Chiwawa and didn’t see a single German soldier the entire way.

Jimmy stayed in the Navy for about two years before heading back home to Scituate.  Two or three weeks later, he decided he wanted back in.  He signed up again, only this time, he would join the Army instead. The Korean War had just begun in earnest and, by his own account, he was restless and wanted to go back out into the world.  He had not seen combat while in the Navy and he felt like he wanted to make more of a difference.  His mother was angry when she found out and put up a fight, but he was not done serving his country, so off again he went.

Most people in the Army training camp knew he had served in the Navy, so they took it easy on him.  Then they put him on a train that went from Boston to San Francisco, with a few short stops along the way.   He would explore a bit of the local scenery whenever he could, but mostly he only had an hour or two at any one stop, where he would walk around and experience some of the local culture and climate.  Then he would hop back on the train where he loved to watch out the window as the changing landscape flew by.

In San Francisco they put him on a ship headed to Japan first before moving on to the Korean peninsula.  He was on his way to the front lines.  While on board, he met some Navy sailors who became like brothers to him. They spent time together while docked in Japan and explored what they could of the island while there.  But the Korean War was raging and soon they were getting ready to shove off once again.  As they made their way toward the ship, they heard a deep voice shout “McCarthy!”  It was their Chief Officer.  He was there to tell Jimmy that he wouldn’t be leaving island; the Army needed him to stay in Japan and help the effort there by relieving another soldier whose turn it was to go home.  Now, Jimmy’s friends, his new brothers, were leaving for Korea and he was stuck there – so they had a big sendoff party and the next morning, the ship sailed off without him.  Jimmy never heard from any of those boys again.

2019 – It Deserves Its Own Chapter

Here is the thing about the future: every time you look at it, it changes because you looked at it; and that - that changes everything else.

G. Holmes, May 2008

Grandma Rose Passes

When my grandmother Rose passed in September of 2018, I gave the eulogy.  After the service was over, her brother Johnny found me outside and grasped my hand. I clearly remember him thanking me and joking that he wants me to do his eulogy when he passes.  Coming from the brother of my grandmother, the man who lost both his parents as a child and his college-aged daughter to a fire as an adult - brother to the woman I just eulogized - it could not have been any more meaningful.  This is a man who lost his mother when he was five and his father and sister at twelve to a drunk driver and marriage.  This was a man who had to find his way through life completely on his own.  After his father passed, he stayed with Dotty on First Parish Road for a while, but he eventually moved in with Rose and Jimmy through high school.  He was good at sports and still has a trophy on display at Scituate High.  He went to college in Boston and once gone, he never returned.  He eventually met and married Joyce, and they landed a home in New Jersey where they have now lived for a very long time.

His comments after the eulogy meant the world to me.  It meant that I did my grandmother right with the words I chose.  It meant that her family was thankful and proud of how I was able to articulate the warmth and love that everyone who knew my grandmother felt when they were together.  This gives me a sense of peace that is hard to put into words.

This is the eulogy I wrote.

Roseanne Kane McCarthy – my grandmother – what a life well lived.  She birthed FIVE children.  Coming from a father of two girls, she’s got my vote for sainthood, especially when we’re talking about these five kids.

There’s Rose – firstborn.  Kathleen – my mom.  Michael – Oldest son.  Tish – by far the silliest.  Jimmy – the baby of the bunch.  Then there’s Gerard – unofficial third son.  Johnny – her brother.  Dotty – sister.  We have the Shea’s, the Patterson’s, the Brennan’s, and Duffy’s – which we basically consider part of the McCarthy family.  Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, and so many more people who consider my grandmother the “matriarch of Sand Hills”

And of course, there is Grandpa Jim.  James Anthony McCarthy Jr.  You are a father. A grandfather. A great-grandfather.  A friend.  Family.  You are always there with a hug and a pat on the back.  My little girls love you.  I love you.

You are all my family, and all the product of Jimmy and Rose, and it is wonderful.  We are blessed.

Grandma – I know you really don’t like Amazing Grace so I won’t even suggest singing it, but I am going to tell people how much you always wanted to pull the fire alarm on Jericho Rd. You would say “Who would ever suspect a little old lady like me?”

There are so many stories that people have shared in remembrance recently, from cooking for the neighbors and the local kids to providing coffee to the police and firefighters during the blizzard of 78.  From those that loved visiting her at Riddles to those that loved visiting her at Hennessey’s.  I’ve heard stories of how she made people feel – and over and over the words I hear are “warmth”, “compassion”, “loving”, “caring”.  I’ve seen uncountable quotes from people calling her a “Scituate icon”, and a “legend”.

Personally, I have a lifetime of memories.  I remember having an asthma-attack on her couch. I remember going to Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket a whole bunch of times with her, Dotty and my mom.  Because of the time I spent with Rose – my grandmother - I know that she loved to read historical biographies.  Because of the time I spent at her house, I associate her memory with the soft sound of the harbor waves lapping against the shore and the warm ocean breeze blowing through the upstairs window.

I know her house is haunted – especially the stairwell.  I know she preferred to stay up late while Grandpa Jim preferred to go to bed early. And I remember my first official Valentine’s Day with Kim – who would eventually become my wife.  We double-dated with Grandma and Grandpa and went out to eat at a place called the Village Haven.

In her final days, she questioned why she was getting so much attention.  “I. Don’t. Want It!” she said, adamantly.  She didn’t think she deserved it.  She didn’t think she was special.  But obviously she was, right?  And all the attention is really about us, isn’t it?  We wanted to have the chance to say goodbye.  We are the ones who cry because it hurts.

She wasn’t in pain at the end.  She went peacefully.  She was constantly surrounded by family and friends.  We all had a chance to say goodbye, and to say we loved her.  And in the end, her thoughts turned to her own mom – Mary - who she lost when she was just 15.  She missed her mom and now, finally, she is back home with her.

This is good.  She lived a full life.  She passed on her knowledge and her principles not by preaching – but simply by doing.  She is loved as a Mom, a Grandma, a great-Grandma, an Aunt, a Sister, a 2nd Mom, a “Sand Hills Matriarch”, a Friend, a Wife.  

It’s endless – and all the memories are good. Whether she likes it or not, she is special.  And she will always be special.  She was my Grandma.

I love you Grandma – we all do. Thank you for living the life that you lived and for being such a wonderful inspiration to this truly blessed family.

             At both the wake and the funeral, the Scituate police lined up on either side of the entrances in Honor Guard style and assisted the hundreds of people who came to pay their respects to my Grandmother and her family.

[treadingthomas]

What Evil Is This?

What Evil is this? What ire? I prayed last morn for the Earth to stay bled For the meek still live And the Power’s still Might But can I sleep tonight?

What time is this? What time, I ask? Time doesn’t Exist Another twist

What wonder is this? What color! Where Hope still lives In between each Thunder

What Evil is this. What ire. I pray each noon for the sky’s laden fire To burn out the eyes Of the rich and the wise So the People can rise again

What day is this? What day I don’t know. And it really doesn’t matter Our matter will end As so must we all

What reason is this? What Reason!? There must be a reason This must be a season

What Evil is this when I pray for much worse To befall myself my friends my own people? What Evil is this that I feel right now? What Evil is this?  What ire? What man am I?  For the meek still live. And the power is Sight. And I don’t think I can sleep tonight.

[treadingthomas]

Wow! Even Natalie Portman loves my music! It changed her life! 😊

[treadingthomas]

Softly I Steal

Well tickle my featherbone!  The fun has just begun! I will steal you with my words Twist you to my soul I will strike down that damnable dollar as I deal this delicious delight Because I feel for your future and I will be there when you wake.

The drive I have inside, I try, I fly, I fall The live, living, luxurious lies I tell but I cannot save them all.

So I’ll steal you with my words and I will wait within my soul I will burn the bridge behind me and live with what I know.

I will not fall into the depths. I will not crawl upon my knees. I will not beg for what you have. I will conquer before I leave.

In this lucid life I live, sex succeeds us all Sex is what we have and sex is what we want. Yes, sex is how we find and sex is how we fall. Sex is how we situate where we stand, and where we stall.

But instead, I will steal you with my words and I will take you to my soul I’ll show you all the little lies, and rename the things you know.

I will steal you with my words.  I will wander where you want. And I will whisper words of wisdom ‘til you whimper, wet with want.

I will steal you with my words I will rise above them all. Are you ready to begin to taste the fire in a song?

[treadingthomas]

Strip it Bare

If you take the night and you strip it bare How do you know where you’ll be when you’re there?

These questions of Mind that constantly haunt are a question of mine -  who I am, what I want

My heart does this thing when it needs to sing to tell how it feels about everything

Can I open my soul to those who don’t know? A day in the life of Mr. Holmes?

What is it I feel? How do I express this lump in my throat, this beat in my chest?

So many I see that I want to know So many goodbyes See you later, gotta go

And when I try to say how I feel, the words come out wrong, stupid, surreal

I want to let you in to show who I am: A man who knows things and yes, I’m a man.

The choices I’ve made are the right ones for me. Some may be wrong, but I live by them, see?

I’m told that I’m strong and good, and wise. Then why does it feel like I wear a disguise?

If you take the night and you strip it bare, how do you know where you’ll be when you’re there?

These questions of Mind that constantly haunt are a question of mine, who I am, what I want.

I guess I have to move on I still have to roam. I guess I have to keep moving ‘til I find my home.

But it keeps coming back, stripped down to the bare: How will I know where I’ll be when I’m there?

[treadingthomas]

[treadingthomas]

My pre-calc teacher got kicked out of the movies once for yelling out diving scores during Titanic as people jumped off the boat.

Titanic Fail

[treadingthomas]