RSS

Tag Archives: Donald Trump

OH MY GOD: DONALD TRUMP SENT ME AN EASTER PRESENT!

ESSAY ON EASTER AND MINDFULNESS

I take back everything I’ve ever said about Donald Trump not knowing what he’s doing for the people of the United States and the image of Christ.  He’s an evil genius!  Also, I take back every disdainful thought I’ve ever had against the MAGA hats that put Trump in office and are keeping him there. Because of them, I’ve found a new lease on life, a calmer demeanor, and a deeper trust in God this Easter.  (Thank you, oh Crazy Orange One and your MAGA hat minions for my Easter present!)


Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT , Cagle

My non-believing sisters and brothers, do you know what Lent is?  According to Merriam-Webster Dictionary, it is “the 40 weekdays from Ash Wednesday to Easter observed by the Roman Catholic, Eastern, and some Protestant churches as a period of penitence and fasting,” which is to draw one closer to God by the time Easter rolls around because the resurrection of Christ from the dead is so awesome that it is every Christian’s hope that if Christ can conquer death, he can conquer every other type of evil plaguing our lives. The reason we give up things at Lent that have some control over our appetites is because we hope it will be easier to scrub off the veneer of fear and hopelessness that blinds us to the power of Christ’s resurrection help in other areas of our lives.

Well, Eureka!  The Holy Ghost gave me a revelation.  The messianic imposter in the White House had caused me to momentarily think he was indestructible, invincible, and made of Teflon (none of his sins were ever going to stick to him and bring him down), and there was absolutely nothing I could personally do about his reign and damage done to our country.  (If his Evangelical supporters are to be believed, I am not operating in God’s will by opposing the Orange One—in fact, I am a sinful little snot who will burn in Hell.)  I was full of fear (not of going to Hell, but of Trump getting away with murder, which seems so much worse than living in Hell), and that led to chronic anxiety which led to eating a gluttonous amount of chocolate-covered bon-bons washed down with buckets of mojitos (not really, but you get my point).  

I am seventy years old and counting—I cannot afford to waste any more of my days on fear and loathing.

So I had a Lenten revelation:  I need to give up Donald J. Trump, not just for Lent, but for the end of time. He is like an obnoxious, spoiled toddler who is only happy if he is absorbing all our attention every second of the day.  I no longer give him the attention he is demanding.  I have replaced thoughts about Trump with gratitude and mindfulness via meditation, and I’m letting the God of the universe fight the things I cannot control—including kicking Trump’s ass. 

I have become a mindfulness aficionado (more about this in the weeks to come).

Carrie on Pinterest

Every morning when I wake up (before I get out of bed), I thank God for what I have—not what I’ve lost. (At this age, one starts losing things, people, and memories on a daily basis as it they were pennies in a pocket full of holes.  Trust me, getting old is not for the cowardly.)  In other words, if I can still breathe, walk, see, hear, talk, and learn…it’s a good day!

Then I mediate, and the sole script of that meditation is a prayer to the God of Easter:

“I have no plans today for my life—only sketches.

Reveal to me your path—where I should go, who I should meet, what I should do.

May I be slow to anger, quick to listen, and slow to speak.

Grant me courage, wisdom, grace, mercy, and above all love for those I encounter along the way.”

It has been amazing!  No more stress, no more anxiety, and no more anger at Trump or anything else—I am as cool as an iced cucumber and I’m no longer in search of bon-bons.  (I fully believe he’s going to be flushed down the toilet of life, but I’m not worried about the if, when, how, or by whom anymore.)  Consequently, I’ve had the most amazing encounters during the Lent season.  As you might expect, I met a Tin Man who needed a heart, a Scarecrow who needed a brain (actually this was a woman), and just recently, a Lion who needed courage.

Let me tell you about the most significant traveler I met along the way since the beginning of my new mindfulness journey.  The Lion.  He was a driver for a car service in New York City.  He was Asian, young, handsome, and spoke fairly good English. On his dashboard was a miniature picture of the Dalai Lama.  Our driver had shoulder-length black hair which sported a cocky backwards baseball cap that displayed the slogan:  “Let’s get fucked tonight!”  Since I had no intentions of doing anything that day but get to the airport on time and try to return home in one piece, I said, “Delta Terminal C, please,” and proceeded to get lost in conversation with my husband about our magnificent grandson and daughter who we had just spent a wonderful weekend with.  The driver seemed lost in thought but said nothing except an explosive “sigh” every minute or so which was very disruptive—each sigh was like the percussive sound of a steam engine.   (It was so unnerving that I almost yelled at him and said, “What the fuck is wrong with you?  Turn on some music if this is the best you can do for conversation!”  But this is the new and improved, mindfulness Eleanor, so I was not “quick to anger,” nor was I “quick to speak,” (plus, if the truth be told, I didn’t want my Uber rating to take a hit—it’s bad enough as it is!).

I thought the driver was frustrated with the traffic, and I made a mental note to give him a one-star rating where it says, “Driver was a good conversationalist” on the ratings form at the end of our destination.  After a long twenty minutes and about thirty Eeyore sighs later, we finally pulled up in front of our designated terminal.  As soon as I unbuckled my seat belt and hastily reached for the door, the driver turned around and said:  “If you had a friend whose wife was having an affair with his best friend, would you forgive her and try to make the marriage work for the sake of the kids (he has the kids), or would you take the kids and run?”  In the midst of a traffic jam with horns blaring, in front of an airport terminal, trying not to be late to catch a flight, my husband and I gave a broken-hearted lion a few minutes of counseling that I can only hope gave him the courage to let love win and try to save his marriage. (I’d like to think there was something about our mindfulness that encouraged him to open his Dalai Lama-loving heart to us…)

But one thing I’m certain of, ever since I let go of Trump and let God take over my mind and heart, I am encountering the most amazing human beings and having the most outlandish conversations.  I shall keep you posted.  In the meantime, if all the mess of Donald Trump and his minions gets you down or your life is one that makes you mourn and sigh, remember the God of Easter and his amazing resurrection life makes all good things possible, and in the words of one of my favorite authors:

“Everything will be all right in the end.

If it’s not all right, it is not yet the end.”

The Universal Christ, by Richard Rohr


Cartoon used by permission: Bob Englehart, Middletown CT, Cagle

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOKS:  Monsters’ Throwdown, Fleeing Oz, The Fetus Chronicles on sale now at Amazon!

***


Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Minnesota, Cagle

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


 
Leave a comment

Posted by on April 18, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , ,

JESUS, GOD OF EASTER, HELP!

As you might imagine, given the events of this week, I am sitting Shiva with the rest of my liberal friends—or should I say, sitting Shiva with anybody who has a brain, a conscious, a heart, a soul, or eyes and ears.  According to Wikipedia, Shiva means “seven,” and “sitting Shiva” is described as: “the week-long mourning period in Judaism for first-degree relatives.”  In this case, my first-degree relatives are my country’s morality, constitution, and soul, and my religion’s core Truth.  I know I’m supposed to accept Barr’s assessment of the Mueller report and move on, but I just can’t.  In the words of George Conway (conservative lawyer and the husband of White House counselor Kellyanne Conway —talk about irony):

“TRUMP IS GUILTY—OF BEING UNFIT FOR OFFICE”

Cartoon used by permission: Milt Priggee, Oak Harbor, WA/Cagle Cartoons

The aftermath of Barr’s summary has been brutal against anyone who has opposed Trump—led by the mean-spirited bully Trump himself, as he takes his victory lap in the end zone.  Every time I hear him attacking someone who has uncovered his lies or stood up to his bullying, all I can do is pray that the God of Easter rescues us from this cretin—SOON.  Was it wrong to hope the Mueller Report would be an answer to that prayer of obvious corruption exposed?  And why did William Barr give us an interpretation of a potentially 300-plus page report rather than the report itself?  What is Barr hiding?  Instead, the White Right-Wing Christians who believe Trump was sent by God are hoarse from crowing Barr’s summation that God has protected their anointed one, and it makes me sick to my stomach—so sick, it sent me into intercessory prayer.  Below is my most recent prayer—prayed while sitting in sackcloth and ashes cataloged under the title: If Ever There was a God, Now is the Time to Show Up (Again).

Cartoon used by permission: Ed Wexler, PoliticalCartoons.com/Cagle Cartoons

DEAR GOD:

How are you?  The last time we spoke, I was praying for healing of a horrible respiratory disease, spring to arrive (sooner than later), and for the Mueller Report to be released, putting a stop to our current reign of terror. I’m very grateful that you completely healed my snot-generating, five-foot chubby-ass body, that spring has finally sprung revealing that not all my plants died over the winter (thank you very much), and the Mueller Report was finally released—kind of.

It looks like I needed to be a bit more specific in my prayers regarding the Mueller Report.  I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but I thought we had an understanding that the report would be released in its entirety and reveal the complete corruption of Donald J. Trump in such a way that his followers would flee in horror—especially the ones who claim to be your followers.  But instead of them repenting in sackcloth and ashes for propping up this egregious sack of sin, they are joining in his revenge victory lap claiming the Bible verse (Psalm 105:15) on Trump’s behalf:  “Don’t touch my chosen leaders or harm my prophets! “Just the other day I came across this billboard that was once posted near St. Louis, Missouri from a bunch of your Trump-loving Christian followers equating him with you, Jesus:

A billboard along route I-70 near St. Louis, Missouri in Nov. 2018

(OPEN LETTER TO GOD, CONT.)

I don’t know how I missed this billboard when it first appeared, but my God, doesn’t this just burn your cookies?  Seems as if that alone would cause you to make a personal appearance just to set the record straight.  Now, how does the Bible verse John 1:14 read again? 

“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

(The billboard was removed in 2018, but only after a great deal of hysteria from your “sane” peeps who rallied to confront this blasphemous stupidity.)

Insane, right?!

Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT/Cagle Cartoons

(OPEN LETTER TO GOD, CONT.)

With all due respect, knowing what you must know, what’s up with letting Trump slide by on the Mueller Report and practically getting away with murder?  You of all deities know that he’s guilty.  He’s like a giant toddler, and he won’t stop until he’s caught red-handed. He needs a giant ass-kicking by you since I am now convinced that Trump was right—he could shoot someone on 5th Avenue and not lose his supporters—especially his Christian supporters because they believe you sent Trump to save America.

Not that I need to give you any parenting advice, but do you recall the “Great Toddler Candy Heist of 87” that was perpetrated by one of my children (no need to name names—you know who Baby-girl is)?  Bear with me here.

As you recall, in the beginning, I tried to raise my children in a sugar-free environment. However, one of my kids came to Earth dreaming of lollipops. If upon her arrival the Devil had presented himself to her and said, “I’ll give you all the candy in the world in exchange for your soul, your sister’s soul, and both your parents’ souls,” she would have said, “In a hot baby-poop minute—where do I stamp my baby paw print?”   My child had ways of getting candy that I knew not of.  All I know is that the minute I turned my back on her (with the specific instructions: “Don’t give this child any candy!”) and returned to pick her up from babysitters, Sunday school providers, mother-in-law, or friends’ homes, I’d find candy wrappers stuffed in her diapers and witness the vestiges of a tummy ache all over my new blouses when I snuggled with her.  But no one could ever catch her actually procuring and eating the sweets.  No matter how many times I asked her if she’d eaten candy and where she’d gotten it from, she’d look me straight in the eyes and lie through her cute little four-year-old baby teeth.  (I think I might have even tossed out a prayer or two to you to help me catch that little barbarian in her lies at one time or another.)

Internet Meme

One day, I think you answered my prayers.  I took said candy thief and her sister with me to a very brief business meeting. I noticed as we passed by a table in the lobby by the receptionist’s desk that a rather large bowl of grape Jolly Ranchers was prominently displayed on our way to the elevators.  Both girls asked if they could have some, but I told them “no,” because I was afraid it would spoil their lunch.

After the meeting was over, I strapped the kids into their respective car seats and proceeded back home for lunch.  About five minutes into the drive, I smelled a pungent grapey odor coming from the back seat.  In fact, the odor was overwhelming, as if someone had flooded the car with Welch’s Grape Juice. It was apparent that one of the kids had stolen candy from the office candy dish.  As I whipped my head around like a cobra to seek out the culprit, I demanded to know who was sucking on a Jolly Rancher. My older daughter said, “Not I, said the cat.” When I turned to Baby-girl, she violently shook her head in denial but refused to open her mouth.  Had I not pulled over to the side of the road, I would not have caught her in the act.  But as I stopped the car and looked into the back seat at my girls, streams of purple ooze poured out of Baby-girl’s mouth.  Apparently, she had stolen as many Jolly Ranchers as her little fat fingers could handle and squirrelled them away in her jumpsuit pockets.  My toddler thief had stuffed not one, not two, not three, but at least four grape Jolly Ranchers into her tiny toddler mouth which couldn’t contain the saliva overflow. Caught dead to rights, even as I asked Baby-girl if she had Jolly Ranchers in her mouth, she continued to shake her head in fierce denial while purple saliva stormed from both sides of her mouth as if she were an overheated Saint Bernard and consequently slimed both her sister and me in purple ooze.

Lord, the point of this story is that I nipped that little rascal’s lyin’ and stealin’ in the bud by catching her in the act, and today she is a fine upstanding citizen. I thought you were probably proud of me for that bit of parenting stealth, if the truth be known.So here’s the word: you created Donald Trump.  Essentially, you’re his first parent.  I don’t mean to be impertinent, but why didn’t you let the Mueller Report expose him in all his ill-gotten slime?  Instead, he has gotten away with his crimes (again!) and has become an even bigger jerk than ever—claiming to be a martyr on the level of messiahhood, creating a revenge list, and tormenting the sick, the poor, and anybody that crosses him.


Cartoon used by permission: Milt Priggee, Oak Harbor, WA/Cagle Cartoons

(OPEN LETTER TO GOD, CONT.)

Lord Jesus, I know you know everything none of us know and in due time, all will be revealed, and we’ll all know the truth whether we want to accept it or not. It’s just that William Barr’s assessment was not the truth.  It may have “technically” helped Trump escape collusion, but he’s got the stain of being a horrible human being in every fiber of his being and he’s sliming us all with his purple-tainted sins of lying and corruption.   

Anyway, see you on Easter.  I could use some hope and proof that you’re in control of this mess. Just sayin’. In the meantime, I’ll keep praying (like a mantra) in the words of Leslie Jones’ recent universal tweet:  #LORDHELPUSPLEASE


Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star Tucson, AZ/Cagle Cartoons

***

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOKS:  Monsters’ Throwdown, Fleeing Oz, The Fetus Chronicles on sale now at Amazon!

***

REFERENCE

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2019/03/27/michael-avenattis-downfall-would-be-great-thing-democrats/?utm_term=.b45c5010c518

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/george-conway-trump-is-guilty–of-being-unfit-for-office/2019/03/26/0b5f851e-4ffd-11e9-88a1-ed346f0ec94f_story.html?utm_term=.b59e095fe99e

https://www.cnn.com/2019/03/27/politics/cnn-poll-mueller-reaction-exoneration/index.html

https://www.riverfronttimes.com/newsblog/2018/11/05/we-fixed-that-appalling-trump-billboard-just-outside-st-louis-for-you

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
10 Comments

Posted by on March 29, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , ,

WAITING FOR SPRING, MUELLER, AND JESUS—NOT NECESSARILY IN THAT ORDER

Do you know what I recently discovered?  Lent has started and Easter is less than 40 days away.  Also, March 1st was the start of “meteorological spring,” which should mean that spring is just around the corner. Then someone said that Mueller should be releasing his report soon.  Looks like if any of these things actually show up, it’s going to be a bombastic spring. But all three of these items (spring, Easter, and Mueller) seem to be in jeopardy, if you ask me—if you really want to know.

Cartoon used by permission: Darkow, Columbia Missourian, Cagle Cartoons

I suppose, as a spiritual being, I should really be getting myself prepared for Easter (I haven’t even thought about giving up a thing for Lent—except maybe news coverage about Trump), but I can’t concentrate because the weather is kicking my ass.  According to Joel Achenbach from The Washington Post, spring is going to be delayed because we’ve entered a polar vortex (“the very cold air mass that normally circulates in the Arctic”), and it has broken “into pieces, with a fragment hurtling south and creating dangerously cold conditions in the Lower 48 states.”  I didn’t need Achenbach to tell me that the world seemed to be coming to an end via the weather, all I had to do was look at the weather map.  Snow where no snow has rarely gone, temps going as low as minus 60 degrees in states other than Alaska, floods and tornadoes wiping out entire communities, and rains coming down so frequently that this year is considered the wettest year on record.  It’s beginning to feel like these are the days of Noah.


Although I’m praising God that I don’t live in Minnesota and the Dakotas (recorded 30 – 60 below zero temps last month), California (mudslides), Seattle (record snow), Tennessee (flooding), Alabama and Georgia (tornadoes from Hell), I am really sick and tired of being sick and tired of rain in Virginia.  It has been raining almost nonstop for over a month, and everything is covered in mildew—including my body.  I got so ill from the weather that I became a walking, hacking, sneezing mucus factory.


Cartoon used by permission: John Cole, The Scranton Times-Tribune, PA

About 2 ½ months ago, it started to rain, and in the midst of all that rain, I woke up with an upper respiratory infection that felt like bricks had been piled on top of my head while I was being water-boarded. No matter what I did, I couldn’t rid myself of the symptoms.  No antibiotics helped.  After 20 boxes of tissues, my nose was stripped raw of its skin leaving it too tender to even touch and looking like I had the beginnings of vitiligo on my skinned bulbous.  Scores of chickens were sacrificed at the altar of soup cauldrons to make chicken soup—Jewish penicillin—and I combed the Earth looking for effective cough meds like a junkie looking for her next fix.  My husband was banished to the guest room to escape my incessant hacking cough, and my friends started making the sign of the cross whenever I came into their presence.  Somewhere in the middle of my snot and sneeze tour, I went deaf (WTF!!).  When I dragged myself into the ENT (ear, nose, and throat doctor), he came at me with a suction tube on one side of my head and a miniature ice cream scoop on the other. The nurse told me (after reviving me from my fainting spell at the horror of it all), that she and the doc had scoped out a candle factory’s supply of wax in the left ear and sucked out six months’ worth of mucus in the right ear—restoring my hearing within minutes.  In the midst of this torture, Punxsutawney Phil didn’t see his shadow and proclaimed an early spring which has turned out to be a big fat lie, and if I ever get my strength back, I shall hunt him down and open up a can of whup ass on him that he’ll never forget. (Nasty-ass rodent!)


Cartoon used by permission: Darkow, Columbia Missourian, Cagle Cartoons

Having nothing better to do in my snotty state of mind (how much snot can a 70-year-old woman expectorate? Turns out that the answer is: 2 tons!), I started meditating on liars—inspired by Punxsutawney Phil.

According to dictionary.com, a lie is: a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive; an intentional untruth; a falsehood. Something intended or serving to convey a false impression….  Well, clearly my nurse practitioner had lied when she told me the antibiotics and the little translucent cough pills would do the trick and clear my symptoms right up.  In reality, she had no idea her advice would work, but she charged me $234.19 and sent me on my way, anyhow.  I started watching the Cohen testimonies from my sick bed and realized that I was watching a professional liar trying to shed himself of a professional liar who is now our President, while those that still follow him continue to lie to themselves that “Trumpee, Trumpee, he’s our man, if he can’t save us, no one can!”


Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune MN, CagleCartoons

When the Cohen testimonies made me sick at heart, I turned to the coverage of the Vatican’s cover-up through the years about the pedophilia priests in their midst, and immediately erased Pope Francis from my Christmas card list. (Seriously, Francis, I thought you were going to be different than all the other popes, but all you’ve done is talk, talk, talk.  For Christ’s sake:  call the police and throw all those sick pervs in jail.  How hard can that be?)


Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune MN, CagleCartoons

My disappointment in the current Pope really made me really sick at heart, and I thought I couldn’t get any sicker until I watched the four-hour HBO documentary and Oprah’s follow-up interview on Michael Jackson’s alleged years-long serial pedophilia against two of his victims and scores of other children from ages 5 to 14 or so.  This was after I had grooved to a dance mix of “Thriller,” “Bad,” “The Way You Make Me Feel,” and “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” (suddenly those lyrics take on a whole new meaning!) to try and cheer me up from the stories about pedophilia in the Catholic church. Yuck! Being a Michael Jackson fan, how the hell did I miss this?  If these stories are true, M.J. was one sick fuck. 


Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star, Tucson, AZ

At that point, I turned off the television, crawled under the covers in despair with another bowl of chicken soup and my tissue box and made a declaration that I planned to stay there.  I mean what’s the point of trying to get well when humans are such horrid creatures. (Physical sickness causes me to feel really sorry for myself and very agitated with the world at large.  If you look at me the wrong way, I’ll fling my snot at you.  Be glad I don’t have any magic powers or you’d all be turned into fried frog legs.  God may have had his Noah’s flood, but I’d come at the Earth with a zapping power that would fricassee everybody’s ass who got on my nerves.)

Then I was reminded that Easter was coming soon.  I love Easter!  It’s my favorite high holiday. It is connected to spring, and it reminds me that winter won’t last forever, bad people won’t get away with murdering the hearts of the innocents ad infinitum, and that I need redemption and salvation just as much as those that I’m judging.  As I poked my head from underneath the covers, I began to recite this anonymous prayer I found on the Google machine to ease my aching body and soul:

“Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime.  No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn. Easter is meant to be a symbol of hope, renewal, and new life. For I remember it is Easter morn and life and love and peace are all new born.”—Anonymous

The problem is—with me, as with many others—will we recognize Easter when it shows up?


Cartoon used by permission: Aislin, The Montreal Gazette

***

I’m discovering that I have no idea when the madness—physical, political, sociological, or meteorological—will end.  I just know I’m tired of being sick and tired. (To my horror, I just got in a CNN News bulletin on my phone:  FLU SEASON MAY NOT HAVE PEAKED, AND THERE’S ANOTHER WAVE OF SEVERE INFECTIONS UNDERWAY, CDC SAYS.)   What to do…what to do?  Shall I take the chance and come out from underneath my covers and reenter the world?  Shall I look to the sky in anticipation for spring while hoping and praying for the resurrection of Easter to sweep away the dross of winter from our human hearts—from here to the Vatican on down through the Michael Jackson fans who are threatening violence against the survivors of M.J.’s alleged sexual abuse?  I think so, because if I’ve learned anything, hope does spring eternal and winter never lasts.


Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, PoliticalCartoons.com

***

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOKS:  Monsters’ Throwdown, Fleeing Oz, The Fetus Chronicles on sale now at Amazon!

***

REFERENCES

https://www.washingtonpost.com/weather/2019/03/04/historically-cold-march-temperatures-are-freezing-large-part-lower/?utm_term=.72a3d2e4e9af

https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/spring-put-on-hold-as-storm-rolls-across-us-and-polar-air-arrives/2019/03/02/2cacafe2-3d0d-11e9-a2cd-307b06d0257b_story.html?utm_term=.d5196785a7e1

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
10 Comments

Posted by on March 9, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , ,

SO THIS IS CHRISTMAS

Do you know what I’ve discovered during this Christmas season?  Very few people can actually articulate what Christmas truly means.  At the White House Christmas Tree Lighting ceremony, some Trump sycophant introduced The Donald as the President who brought back Christmas.  (I had no idea it ran away, did you?)  He didn’t say how Trump was bringing something back that wasn’t lost.  Trump actually made this a campaign promise, as if Christmas had gone into hiding and was just waiting for him to come along and set it free.  If Christmas is a bit jaded, it isn’t saying “Merry Christmas” that grated on people’s nerves, it was and is the lack of a true Christmas heart and spirit that makes people think “bah-hum-bug.”

First of all, I’m convinced our current President is the anti-Christ, so there is no way he could ever really know the true meaning of Christmas to even locate it “if it was lost.”   I also started thinking of all the people Trump has scared to death with his tweets, his lies, his abuse, his betrayals, and his horrid mismanagement, and I had an epiphany:  Christmas does need to be brought back to fight him because Christmas is the antidote to fear.

Used by permission: Joep Bertrams, The Netherlands

Think about it.  I heard a line in a song the other day that basically said: “All of us are born with broken hearts.”  I know it to be true because I was born that way and most of the people I have met and come to know have or have had broken hearts.  It really caught me off guard, and I thought what do I have to give someone who is broken in this world—contemplating suicide, riddled with fear, abused and battered—and who is being driven into mental illness due to a fear of things beyond their control (“cough: Trump”)?  How does a baby born in a manger pierce those granite heart(s) and infuse them with hope and courage to live another day and not give up? It’s really foolish to think a baby, born in the Middle East thousands of years ago could bring the entire world the peace that quiets our fearful hearts in the age of Trump, of a Saudi prince who orders the slaughter of a reporter with a buzz saw, of the threat of impending world war, and of my own encroaching old age which is scaring the shit out of me.  Unless that baby was unlike any other baby—unless that baby was the spiritual embodiment of something magnificent from a realm beyond our own.  By slipping into the Earth as a babe, all that was holy got presented to mankind in a non-threatening form, and thus, Christmas became a part of our hearts that could never be taken away or destroyed—if we truly believed.

Cartoon used by permission: Bob Englehart PoliticalCartoons.com

Then I remembered the lyrics to my favorite Christmas song by Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure in 1847—a wine merchant, no less. As I listened to the song on the Sirius XM Christmas mix, I transcended the concept of the fairy-tale limitation of a little Jewish baby in a manager and imagined that “manger” filled with the embodiment of hope to the hopeless, grace to the homeless, mercy to the poor, worth to the worthless, and love to the lost and lonely.

Oh, holy night! The stars are brightly shining

It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth

Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn

Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices

Oh, night divine

Oh, night when Christ was born

Cartoon used by permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle, GA

Truly he taught us to love one another

His law is love and his gospel is peace

Chains shall he break for the slave is our brother

And in his name, all oppression shall cease

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we

Let all within us praise his holy name

Christ is the Lord! Oh, praise his Name forever

His power and glory evermore proclaim

Oh, night divine, oh, night when Christ was born

Cartoon used by permission: Parker Florida, Today

Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices

Oh, night divine

Oh, night when Christ was born

Oh, night divine, oh, night when Christ was born

Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!

I WISH YOU THE LOVE, THE HOPE, THE JOY, THE GRACE AND THE PEACE THAT ONLY GOD CAN GIVE AND THAT NO MAN CAN TAKE AWAY!

Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Minnesota, Cagle Cartoons

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOKS:  Monsters’ Throwdown, Fleeing Oz, The Fetus Chronicles on sale now at Amazon!

WANT TO HEAR THE AUTHOR’S LATEST PODCAST INTERVIEW? http://breadboxmedia.podbean.com/e/what-if-it-is-true-can-you-find-faith-in-darkness/

Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
4 Comments

Posted by on December 21, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , ,

GOING, GOING, GONE…SOULS FOR SALE!

DEAR READERS:  Have you seen God?  He really seems to be AWOL!  I need to alert him to the fact that Americans are selling their souls in droves and at wholesale prices—increasingly so, and every damn day.  Do you think he’s aware of what is going on?  If you do hear from God, would you please pass on the phone message I just left for him.  It’s urgent!  Tell God when you see him that he’ll (or she’ll) find my copious other “prayer” messages filed under: “Are you Listening (or paying attention) God?”  What follows is the third installment of a “Voicemail Message to God” which is a very short essay on another universal question I wish God would answer about life: “What does it take to sell one’s soul?”

Souls for Sale Beachcombing Bizarre history blog

Courtesy of Beachcombing Bizarre History Blog

GOD’S VOICEMAIL GREETING:  “You’ve reached the voicemail box of Jehovah at 1-800-PRA-TOME.  Gone star-gazing in a galaxy far, far away where the beings operate in love and peace, truth and honor. Feel free to leave a message, but I have no idea when I’ll get back to you.  I am truly sick and tired of being sick and tired with the human species on Earth and need to clear my head before I do something drastic that I may regret (can you say, “Noah’s Ark?”). 

***

DEAR GOD:  It’s Eleanor. Oy vez mir!  Do I ever need to talk to you!

My God…did you know that the Anti-Christ has unveiled himself?  Right here in America!

Christians elect the anti christ meme

My Lord, I looked up the definition of “Anti-Christ,” and the online dictionary said:

A personal opponent of Christ expected to appear before the end of the world.

  A person or thing regarded as supremely evil or as a fundamental enemy or opponent.

A great antagonist expected to fill the world with wickedness but to be conquered forever by Christ at his second coming.”

You might ask why I suspect the President of the United States to be the anti-Christ.  I mean, after all, one could easily have said that about Hitler.  Well that is why I’m calling — I have proof Trump is the anti-Christ:  People are selling their souls to him left, right, and center.   Just last week, a famous Black rapper (Kanye West) ripped out his soul, barbecued it on the altar of Trump, and served it up as pâté on a cracker.  It was a sight to behold:  degrading, embarrassing, disgusting, and horrific. It was like watching a massive train wreck and not being able to turn away from the carnage.

Kanye West and Trump Vogue Meme

IMGFLIP.COM/Meme of 2014 Kayne West and Kim Kardashian Vogue cover

A couple weeks before that debacle with Kanye West and Trump, a man was confirmed to the Supreme Court (Brett Kavanaugh)—ushered onto the bench by the mocking laughter of the Anti-Christ in Chief who led hundreds of contemptuous supporters at a rally against the woman Kavanaugh allegedly assaulted.  As the crowd screamed “Lock her up,” all I could do was weep for myself and every woman who has tried to tell someone her story of assault, only not to be believed and ridiculed in the process.

The Talk David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

Cartoon used by permission:  David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star Tucson, AZ

God, I don’t know if you were watching, but Kavanaugh was not proven innocent. All those mockers at the rally, and the old angry White men in the Senate sold their souls to Trump and rushed through a man temperamentally unfit (at the very least) to sit on the Supreme Court.  The problem is that I prayed 24/7 for you to vindicate Dr. Ford.  Since you didn’t return my call, I’m now praying that you flush out the truth on this dude with irrefutable evidence, and that in doing so, you jettison his sorry ass off the bench. If he lied—if he’s hiding something—save us from him and all the other Republicans who sold their souls on Kavanaugh’s behalf.

Caving on Kav David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons,The Arizona Star Tucson, AZ

In the meantime, while the anti-Christ in the Oval Office cozies up to yet another brutal dictator, I’m watching to see which politicians and religious leaders carry the train of Saudi Arabia’s Mohammed bin Salman’s robe as they rush to sell their souls over the brutal murder of Jamal Khashoggi.  Pat Robertson (Head of the Christian Broadcasting Network) cashed his soul in yesterday when he said, “You’ve got one journalist — who knows? Was it an interrogation? Was he assassinated? Were there rogue elements? Who did it…? You’ve got $100 billion worth of arms sales…we cannot alienate our biggest player in the Middle East.” 

My question to Pat Robertson:  Who brings a bone saw to an interrogation?

Mitt Romney is in the process of relinquishing his soul as he tries to make his way back to the Senate.  Because you see all and hear all, I know you remember Romney being solidly in the never-Trump camp when he said:

“Dishonesty is Donald Trump’s hallmark … He’s not of the temperament of the kind of stable, thoughtful person we need as a leader. His imagination must not be married to real power … Donald Trump is a phony, a fraud. His promises are as worthless as a degree from Trump University. He’s playing the members of the American public for suckers … He has neither the temperament nor the judgment to be president.”

Oy, that was in 2016 when Romney had no power.  Now that he seems to be a shoe-in to the Senate and can sniff power like the intoxicating aroma of fresh brewed coffee, here’s the script he cashed in for his soul on Oct. 17th:  Trump’s policies “have been pretty effective, and I support a lot of those policies.”

Romney and Trump Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT

Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT

So here is my question sweet Jesus:  how much is a soul worth these days?  We Americans are a little confused, and I think we’re selling our souls much too cheaply since I hear the final cost is eternal damnation.  What say you, My Lord?

Looking forward to hearing from you…

Evangelicals and anti christ FB 1 David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOKS:  Monsters’ Throwdown, Fleeing Oz, The Fetus Chronicles on sale now at Amazon!

WANT TO HEAR THE AUTHOR’S LATEST PODCAST INTERVIEW? http://breadboxmedia.podbean.com/e/what-if-it-is-true-can-you-find-faith-in-darkness/

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on October 18, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

WE’VE GOT TO GET AWAY FROM HERE

Do you know what I discovered since I’ve been gone?  First of all, I’ve been gone from blogging a very, very long time.  I really didn’t mean to step away that long, but Baby-girl got married and I decided that being fully present and involved in this wondrous event of my child’s life was my primary duty as a mother.  The sorrows and chaos of this world could wait a month or two while I got to revel in one of two major joys humans are afforded on this planet:  marriages and the birth of children (hopefully the second part of the equation will come soon for the newlyweds—“Your mother is not getting any younger, Baby-girl!”).

Author Toasting Bride and Groom

AUTHOR GIVING MOTHER-OF-THE-BRIDE SPEECH: “NAILED IT!”

It was such a glorious time.  Full of love and grace. Tons of laughter and warm camaraderie. People of different races, religions, and sexual orientations wishing another beautiful interracial couple a happy and fulfilling life.  Weather was a perfect 75 degrees, no rain, no bugs, and no Trump.  It felt as if Jesus were in our midst—so much loving, so much acceptance, so much tender caring.  For 72 hours at this destination wedding on a magnificent island in the U.S. of A, Trump’s name and destructive influence on our country and its people were never mentioned or thought about.  If there were some of his hardcore supporters among the wedding guests, they didn’t reveal themselves.

Roche Harbor

Roche Harbor| Photo Credit: Cynthia Richardson

So now I am home—back in the shit storm that is Trumplandia.  Since I’ve been gone, things seem to have gotten so much worse both nationally and locally.  I came out of my wedding bubble to the man in the White House dealing with more demons whispering in his ear than he had before I entered the wedding euphoria.   And the lying…oh, my God, his lying has increased exponentially.

Trump mentors Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star-Tribune MN

Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune MN

Yet, Trump’s supporters still cling to his every word—especially his Right Wing Evangelical supporters which still has me in a state of shock (Jesus, are you watching this?).  The more Trump lies (7 – 10 times a day at the last calculation), the more his supporters worship him. The more his racism shows, the more they cheer him on and wrap themselves in things like the Confederate flag, White Supremacy, conspiracy websites, and Fox News.  I saw a poll when I returned that said 91% turn to the President for accurate information rather than their families or legitimate news organizations.  A friend just told me the other day that in a couple of prayer groups she attended, some of the members who are Trump supporters refused to pray for the border children who are still separated from their parents, may never be returned to their parents, and who are reportedly some are being abused by their caretakers. (And you ask me why I left the Church?)  Then I learned about some rabid Trump supporters in the vicinity (many of them churchgoers) who were trying to run roughshod over the rest of their community by hoisting the Confederate flag and celebrating its “glory” no matter who their actions hurt or terrorized. All I could think was which came first?  Did Trump and his demon ways awaken these horrid people from the swamp or did these horrid people awaken Trump?

Christian adoration of Trump Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT

Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake-Tribune, UT

In the meantime, while all these agonizing thoughts were running through my head, it came to my attention that it was time for my annual physical.  Oh shit!  How did this come upon me so soon?  I had planned to lose those 20 pounds from the last time I saw my doctor six months ago.  In fact, I told him—swore on my mother’s grave—he wouldn’t have to worry about me shedding them because I had the wedding as an incentive. I was not going to be a fat mother-of-the-bride—no siree!  But, instead, I had gained five more pounds!

Can I confess something?  I hate going to the doctor because I never get all A’s, and for a perfectionist, that is a real pain in the ass.  It’s like being called to the principal’s office, being stopped by a White policeman when you’re driving while Black, and your father catching you sneaking back into the house after curfew—all at once.  I got a chance to review the lab results before the appointment, and they didn’t make me feel any better.  I’ve just turned 70 and every number counts.  Everything was elevated: my weight, my cholesterol, my A1C, and my blood pressure.  I just knew my doctor was going to be pissed at me and fire me as his patient.  I’ve been fired as a patient before because I take no grief from doctors (that’s another blog, entirely).  Instead, what he did do, shocked me so much, you could have knocked me over with a feather…

Doctor office meme

DOC. H:   Morning, Mrs. Tomczyk.  How’s everything?

TRUCULANT ME:  Not great, as you can see.  First of all, why do you and every doctor I’ve ever been to make me weigh in before the nurse takes my blood pressure?  Of course it’s going to be 160/90.  Your lyin’ scale just gave me the shock of my life!  And why is the scale always out in a public space?  I took off so many clothes to get a more accurate read of my weight that some old man put his hands over his eyes, started to scream, and fled the building, leaving his cell phone and his cane behind because he was so horrified by my Stormy Daniels’ striptease.

DOC. H:   Now, Mrs. Tomczyk, we’ve been over this before.  Knowing what you weigh at the beginning of our session helps me figure out what you need as a patient.  Wouldn’t you prefer a little embarrassment in order to get a more accurate diagnosis?

PETULANT ME:  Hell to the no!

DOC. H:  [Sigh] Let’s see what we have here.  Hum, all your numbers are elevated.  You were doing so well six months ago.  What happened?

WHINING ME:  What happened?  WHAT HAPPENED?  Donald Trump happened!  His mania is spreading all across the land, or at least it is giving “permission” for the crazies to come out of the sewers.  The Governor of Virginia has declared a state of emergency in Charlottesville because it is the one year anniversary since the murder of Heather Heyer by Confederate sympathizers and Neo-Nazi White Supremacists, and he doesn’t want a repeat of last year.  Virginia also has a man running to become one of its senators (Corey Stewart) who is a “Lost Cause” trumpeter who adulates the likes of Nathan Bedford Forrest and calls himself a rebel sounding the clarion call for the keeping of Confederate statues in place and unfurling the Confederate flag here, there, and everywhere because…you guessed it:  He says, “it’s my heritage.”  What the hell?  This dude grew up in Minnesota, for Pete’s sake!

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard about Northerners goose-stepping behind Nathan Bedford Forrest (slave trader, creator of the KKK, mass murderer of surrendered Negro troops, and the grand wizard of the KKK) and worshiping his image.  They have all been Trump supporters, of course. Their bottom line can only be in the name of White Supremacy.  What if this happens where I live?  I’d have to fight to expose this lie, of course.  I would not let my community wake up awash in Confederate flags while the African-Americans started feeling like second-class citizens in their own homes.  The fear of this keeps me awake at night.

I know you won’t believe me, but I don’t break my diet (well, not often), and I exercise like crazy.  Admittedly, I don’t get much sleep with all that is going on and all that I worry about.  But I can’t stand by and let the lies of our current President seep into the local soil where I live.  I can feel the zombie racism creeping toward me and mine.  I WILL FIGHT THIS EVIL WHERE IT SPROUTS.  I WILL ENCOURAGE OTHERS TO FIGHT IT.  I WILL NOT SURRENDER TO TURNING THE CLOCK “BACK TO THE CONFEDERACY!”

Confederate Monuments in Context David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star, Tucson, AZ

DOC. H:  All right, General Grant.  I hear you, and, believe it or not, as a White man, I get it.  I can’t tell you how many of my patients have come to me in tears because of what is happening in our country.  Grown White men sobbing because of the racism they see happening to people of color.  As one very lovely Italian man in his seventies told me, he thought we had won the war against racism long ago, and what he sees now is breaking his heart.  Not only do I understand what you’re saying, but I’m going to say something that will probably shock you.  Your numbers are elevated not because of how you eat or exercise but because of the inordinate stress you are suffering from events happening to you on a national and local level that seem beyond your control.  The stress is causing an increase of cortisol in your system, and it wouldn’t matter how little you ate or how much you exercised, you still wouldn’t lose weight.  And because you’re gaining weight as a result of the stress, all of your other numbers are increasing.

SUSPICIOUS ME:  Does that mean you’re going to up my meds?  You know those are fighting words to me, Doc. I refuse to become one of those old people on too many drugs who can’t remember their names or what day it is.  I have to take care of myself the natural way as long as I can through exercise and diet.

DOC. H:  No pills, I promise.  But here’s your new prescription:

#1.  You must fight this evil disguised in the Confederate flag! You must expose this evil! You must lead against this evil wherever it washes up on your shore of influence. You can’t fight everything everywhere, but you can fight what is within your jurisdiction, your writing arena, and your voting power.  It is for this day, this place, and this time that you were called to be.  Don’t shrink back from the fight. Write about it.  Protest it. Stand!  We need people like you, more than ever.

#2.  However, don’t let the fight kill you. You’ve got to get away from here—from the battlefield—if you hope to survive.

#3.  To keep you from having a heart attack or a stroke, I suggest the following:

  • Wage war where and when you can, and then pull back for a respite—on a daily basis
  • Watch or read the news, but only for an hour (bad news can wait); organize your battle plans, but only for a portion of the day, then…
  • Spend the rest of day in your garden, reading, engaging with your husband, spending time with good friends, enjoying your children, practicing your hobbies, thinking about all that is lovely in the world. Be fully present!  What’s that Bible verse I learned as a kid?  “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things and the God of peace will be with you” (Philippians 4:8).
  • Get 7-8 hours of sleep
  • Walk 10,000 steps a day—everyday! Give that Fitbit a run for its money.  Keep that body moving, Lady!

Statism

 INCREDULOUS ME:  What?  I think you’re gonna make me cry, Doc. A doctor who understands his patient.  A medical person who gets my struggles. A physician who doesn’t think I’m lying about not eating fried chicken and chocolate bon-bons? Who knew there was such a creature?  I could just kiss you!

DOC. H:  [Smiles] See you in three months.  Oh, and Mrs. Tomczyk—one more thing.  Above all else—be civil. Among the many things the man in the White House has destroyed is civility.  You can’t win this war without civility.  What’s that Michelle Obama maxim:  “When they go low, we go high!”

Incivility Bob Englehart Middletown CT

Cartoon used by permission: Bob Englehart, Middletown, CT

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES ABOUT THE CONFEDERATE FLAG AND CIVILITY

“The Confederate Battle Flag was the emblem of Jim Crow defiance to the civil rights movement, of the Dixiecrat opposition to integration, and of the domestic terrorism of the Ku Klux Klan and the White Citizens’ Councils of our all too recent, all too awful history. White Christians ought to think about what that flag says to our African-American brothers and sisters in Christ, especially in the aftermath of yet another act of white supremacist terrorism against them.” Russell Moore, president of the SBC’s Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission who called for Christians in the South to forsake their affinity for the Confederate flag after the Charleston massacre of Black Christians

“I believe that our president has fostered a culture and climate that has allowed for what was there and has been there for years to bubble up. It has empowered people in a horrific way. Absolutely. I don’t think there’s any question about it.”—Rev. John Gray, pastor of Relentless Church in Greenville, S.C

“Civility is not not saying negative or harsh things. It is not the absence of critical analysis. It is the manner in which we are sharing this territorial freedom of political discussion. If our discourse is yelled and screamed and interrupted and patronized, that’s uncivil.”—Richard Dreyfuss

 “Our ultimate freedom is the right and power to decide how anybody or anything outside ourselves will affect us.”― Stephen R. Covey

Uncivil War John Darkow Columbia MO

Cartoon used by permission: John Darkow, Columbia, MO

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOKS:  Monsters’ Throwdown, Fleeing Oz, The Fetus Chronicles on sale now at Amazon!

WANT TO HEAR THE AUTHOR’S LATEST PODCAST INTERVIEW? http://breadboxmedia.podbean.com/e/what-if-it-is-true-can-you-find-faith-in-darkness/

REFERENCES

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/06/22/christian-confederate-slavery_n_7638676.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/corey-stewart-airbrushes-slavery-out-of-civil-war-history/2018/07/05/2ef44a06-7be5-11e8-80be-6d32e182a3bc_story.html?utm_term=.ee61505ad0c4

https://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/right-turn/wp/2018/08/01/trumps-tampa-circus-proves-you-cant-reason-with-his-base/?utm_term=.98f368a79838

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
4 Comments

Posted by on August 11, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , ,

SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN TO COME UNTO ME

Do you know what I discovered this past week?  A human being never gets over being taken from their mother, no matter how old they are, no matter what the circumstances, and no matter how it turns out in the end.  Even if it seems justifiable to the powers that be or it eventually saves the child’s life (as in my case), anybody with a viable soul must know that the hearts of children are much too vulnerable to be separated from their parents—especially after weeks of traveling as refugees.

Trump Family Reunification Plan Dave Granlund PoliticalCartoons com

Cartoon used by permission:  Dave Granlund, PoliticalCartoons.com

When this happened to me, my body snatchers and I spoke the same language and we never left the city of my birth, but that made little difference as to the scaring of my psyche.  In 1957 my baby sister and I were taken from my mother in the middle of the night by policemen with guns ablaze who had stormed through our apartment door.  Our mother was put in a strait jacket and thrown into an ambulance, and my sister and I were hustled into the back of a police car as I sobbed and screamed at the top of my lungs and my little sister collapsed into a catatonic state.  No one told us where we were going.  No one told us where they took our mother.  No one held us. No one comforted us. Everything was institutionalized and calculating—not mean, just matter-of-fact—just what is needed to crush an abandoned child’s heart.  My sobs and hysteria were so legendary the night our world finally fell apart after existing in years of mayhem and chaos that we still—to this day—cannot discuss that fateful night without tearing up.  My sister is 67 and I am 70 years old, and we never lived with my mother again.  Below is an excerpt of that night as seen through the eyes of a child just taken from her mother:

After the King of Night Court dubbed Pee-wee and me Wards of the State, we were taken to a temporary orphanage that the judge called “The Receiving Home.”  On the way to the orphanage I heard Miss Perkins [social worker] tell the policeman who accompanied us that even though it was past midnight, the matrons would have to open the kitchen because not to feed Pee-wee and me as soon as possible seemed like cruel and unusual punishment.  I remember wearily climbing a long flight of stone steps up to a brick building with large windows.  At the door, Pee-wee and I were met by a woman who was called the Night Matron.  After a brief whispered conversation between Miss Perkins and the Colored matron, we were led into the kitchen.  Pee-wee and I were so frightened and overwhelmed that we refused to let go of each other’s hand, so they picked us both up and set us down at a table without untangling our fingers.  My baby sister and I hadn’t eaten anything in days and nothing of any substance in months. Our clothes reeked of urine and excrement, and our bloated stomachs made us resemble children fresh off the boat from the remotest part of Africa.  At least that is what the Night Matron loudly whispered to the policeman…

“We’ll have to separate them eventually—might as well do it sooner than later.  The one in diapers will have to go to the nursery and sleep in a crib, even though she should be in the kindergarten dorm.”

“The nine year old needs to sleep in the teen ward in a bunk bed.”

“They both needs to be checked for lice and deloused befo’ they heads get near any beddin’.”

“First things first.  Feed these babies before they faints dead away from hunger.”

“Who been raisin’ these chilrin’—a pack of rats?”

Even though the adult consensus was that Pee-wee and I were absolutely filthy, a humane decision was quickly made that food was needed before a bath and delousing. The Night Matron had one of her helpers open up the cafeteria kitchen and heat up the leftovers from that night’s dinner. She gave Pee-wee and me a bowl of navy bean soup with globs of fat-back floating on the top, a cup of rice pudding with lumps the size of my toes, and two stale ginger snap cookies with a glass of buttermilk.  Pee-wee was too frightened to eat much of the food, but I gobbled up the meal as if it were my Last Supper. 

I can’t ever remember anything before or after the first meal in The Receiving Home tasting as great as that bean soup/ginger snap cookie combo.  Exactly at that black-hole moment, food became my drug of choice, and I would struggle with this addiction for the rest of my life.  After two servings of everything, I licked the soup bowl twice; and then I spoke for the first time since the invasion [of our home] by the police: “People, I gotta tell ya—you done outdid yo’selves!  This here is the best damn food I’ve ever eaten!”—EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK, “MONSTERS’ THROWDOWN” BY ELEANOR TOMCZYK

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Author and Baby Sister Few Months Before Taken Away from Their Mother

***

Knowing what I know about being separated from one’s mother as a child, I still can’t understand how Trump could approve this border control evil, and Sessions and Sarah Huckabee Sanders could sanction it by quoting scripture to justify that action.  It’s as if Jesus DIDN’T say:  “Suffer the little children to come unto me…” but instead said: “Snatch the little children and use them as manipulative tools any time you need to gain control of a political situation, for that is the way of the Lord your God.”

I don’t know what upsets me more—crying, fearful, abandoned children or Christianity being used in such a lying abusive way to harm children.  Doesn’t Trump have children and grandchildren of his own?  Did he ever put himself in the place of those parents fleeing their horrific countries to save their children, only to have them taken away—some of which may never see their kids again?  When I heard Jeff Sessions and Sarah Huckabee Sanders justifying immoral governing choices by citing scriptural approval, I had a revelation:  Maybe this evil was not Trump’s fault.  Maybe he was led astray by people who claim to follow Jesus but wouldn’t know God if he came floating down on a cloud in front of them.   Maybe if I let him know what really was at stake (his soul and the soul of America), he’d see the light and straighten up and fly right.  After all, White Evangelical preachers have told us that he’s a “baby Christian”—new to all the rules and laws of Christianity.  Maybe he just needed to be schooled.  It was worth a try.  I had to do something—anything—so I wrote the President an open letter.

Jesus Approves FB Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune MN

Cartoon used by permission:  Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune, MN

DEAR PRESIDENT TRUMP:

I am an American citizen (you know, one of the people you’re supposed to represent), and I wish to render a spiritual intervention on your behalf (before it is too late for the redemption of your soul) regarding your treatment of the border children.  You see, I am both a survivor of a traumatized childhood as well as an Evangelical Christian—thus giving me some moral authority on the subject of abused children and knowing what Jesus would do. 

I know that you have begrudgingly put a stop to separating children from their parents who are seeking asylum, and you signed an executive order making yourself out to be the hero in a Hitleresque tragedy which you, and you alone, started.

border crisis Kevin Siers The Charlotte Observer, NC

Cartoon used by permission:  Kevin Siers The Charlotte Observer, NC

But I ask you Mr. President, you the professed born-again Christian as confirmed by your personal pastor, Evangelist Paula White:  Where are the 2,000 plus other children?  Some as young as three months old, nine months old, four years old who have been taken as far away as Michigan, New York, and Washington State. Don’t know?  Not telling?  Couldn’t care less as your wife’s jacket seemed to convey when she made her obligatory visit to one of the kids’ shelters.  Somehow it’s hard to believe that about you.  You have kids.  You have grand-kids.  If I were to give you the benefit of the doubt, I would say you’ve been duped.

The only reason I think you have been bamboozled is I think Miller, Sessions, Sanders, and your Evangelical supporters have sold you a bill of goods.  I know they’ve told you all that crap about how you’re a modern day King Cyrus, and that God has anointed you to be President to bring about his will in America and on the Earth, blah, blah, blah, blah.  Except that under your “reign,” America’s soul is rotting—God’s will is not being done.  You see, none of the shit the White Evangelical preachers you hang with have told you the truth:  You’re actually in deep do-do with the Lord, Donald.  God is not pleased with you!

Pardon for the kids John Darkow Columbia Missourian

Cartoon used by permission:  John Darkow, Columbia, Missourian

You poor schmuck.  I bet you were under the impression that God likes ugly ways and an ugly heart?  Oh dear!  Of course, the scripture the US Attorney General Jeff Sessions invoked to justify the evil of your child abusive immigration policies probably made you feel real sanctimonious and very pleased with yourself:

“Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. Consequently, whoever rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves. For rulers hold no terror for those who do right, but for those who do wrong.”Romans 13:1-5

Mr. President, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III didn’t tell you that Romans 13 was used to justify obedience to all sorts of evil in the past, and God squished the ruling authorities like a giant’s foot stomping on a pile of maggots when they enforced this scripture on innocent people (Google, Sherman’s march to the sea, and Hitler’s bunker demise).  The Southerners used it against the Abolitionists to justify slavery and German theologians used it to support Hitler regardless if their policies seemed harsh and ruthless.  (I know you don’t read, but when you can catch a break between Fox News and Alex Jones, have Melania read you the bio of the German theologian Otto Dibelius.  I’m sure he’s still preaching Romans 13 in the town square of Hell.)

Zero Tolerance: June 19, 2018

Cartoon used by permission:  Adam Zyglis, The Buffalo News, NY

I don’t know what drugs the Apostle Paul was taking the day he wrote that scripture, but something got lost in translation.  I do know it doesn’t apply to you, nor did it apply to Hitler or the American slave holders.  Mr. President, the scriptures that the false prophets who surround you should have impressed upon you are the ones about how God regards children, the poor, the wretched, the refugee, and the vulnerable.  Didn’t Sarah Huckabee Sanders (the daughter of a preacher-man) tell you about these scriptures that good leaders are charged to obey?

“Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”—Matthew 18: 4-5

“If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.”—Matthew 18:6

“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.”—Matthew 25:40

Sessions and Immigration Kids Bob Englehart Middletown CT

Cartoon used by permission:  Bob Englehart Middletown, CT

Ooops!  Mr. President, you’re in so much trouble with your Maker.

I hope you take this letter seriously because even if you don’t care about you own soul, I would encourage you to care about the soul of America.  Did your sycophantic Evangelical support ever tell you the story of Sodom and Gomorrah and why it was destroyed by God?  If they did, I bet they told you the lie that Sodom was destroyed because of all the homosexuals cavorting around.  Well, guess what?  They lied!   Sodom was destroyed because they turned their backs on the poor and the needy.  Check it out:

“‘Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy. They were haughty and did detestable things before me. Therefore I did away with them as you have seen.”—Ezekiel 16:49-50

Oh dear, oh my…Mr. President, you know how you said you’ve never asked for forgiveness from God?  Now might be a good time to start.

Sincerely,

Eleanor Tomczyk

Blog Begin David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

Cartoon used by permission:  David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star, Tucson, AZ

***

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTE I’M HANGING ONTO DURING THESE TRYING TIMES

“When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in the universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows.  Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”—Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

***

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOKS:  Monsters’ Throwdown, Fleeing Oz, The Fetus Chronicles on sale now at Amazon!

WANT TO HEAR THE AUTHOR’S LATEST PODCAST INTERVIEW? http://breadboxmedia.podbean.com/e/what-if-it-is-true-can-you-find-faith-in-darkness/

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

 
7 Comments

Posted by on June 26, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , ,