I have a brother with mental retardation. Two and a half years ago he was raped by another resident at the boarding home the hospital sent him to. The DA's office refused to prosecute because the perpetrator is schizophrenic, and the defense would have him declared unfit to stand trial. Although he initally said that nothing happened, my brother said he was "afraid of Jim." After he finally told my mother what had happened, he started claiming he was dead. Since he is highly suggestable, we believe that he was told "If you tell, you're dead." Turns out the previous roommates had problems with the guy...and four out of the six had problems of a sexual nature. Thank you NM mental health system! Thank you NM justice system!

Know what the real kicker is? When I searched for support sites for victims and family members of rape among the mentally disabled, I found NOTHING...but a huge movement to stop rape in prisons. Frankly, if you are scum, and you are in prison with other scum I don't CARE if you get raped.

Until my brother's rape, I didn't realize my capacity for hatred. I used to dream about hunting this perverted dirtbag down and scaring the s*** out of him - literally. And letting him live with the knowledge of the kind of fear he put into my brother. Maybe shooting him in the balls and leaving him non-functional so he felt the pain my brother felt and could never ever rape another person again.

I hate Jim for what he did to my brother. I hate him for what he did to my family, and I hate him for the poison he brought into my own character. I hope to God that the investigation turns up enough evidence to proscecute him. And I take a certain savage satisfaction in knowing that if he goes to prison, he will likely be raped. And I hope he is.

Has anyone noticed that I attributed our winning the Revolution to GERMAN assistance when it should have been FRENCH assistance? I've been meaning to correct that for months.

Anyway, someone at work tried to ascribe their motivation to ideological similarities. Uh...hello? I suspect it had rather more to do with spitting in the eye of the Brits than overwhelming support for democratic ideology. France didn't manage a democracy until nearly the 20th century (you know-AFTER the people helping the USA were long dead) , and they ran about chopping peoples' heads off in the process. Ideology my ass. Go away. I have idealogical foundation for supporting military operations in Iraq. I don't think 5 year old girls should be married off. Nor do I think women should be put to death for trying to escape cruel and abusive relationships. And yes...I do like driving my car, and I do appreciate oil. I'm not an idiot, I'm sure that's a motive, too. Does it matter? Is not an act of evil perpetuated in God's name still inherently an evil act? And conversely, and act of good, no matter the motivation of those making the decisions is still inherently good.

Give them time. It took the fledgling US eight years to come up with a document they could all agree on, and the first thing they did is make 10 changes before they'd all ratify it. AND - recall...we've spent the last 200 years making more changes. Don't expect Iraqis to be able to adjust to democracy so quickly. They're coming off a reign of terror and oppression far heavier than the yoke against which we rebelled.

I miss my husband. I miss him fiercely. I haven't had a solid night's sleep in two months, and likely won't for another two at least. I ache knowing that he's so many thousands of miles away from me. Sometimes I feel like I am thisclose to breaking. And I don't. I don't break because that's not the American way. And I am a soldier's wife. And my soldier needs me. Needs me to support him, needs me to be there when he comes home, needs me ease the guilt that he feels for not being here supporting me.
And with all this, I would bear a separation 12 times longer if it means that we improve the quality of living over there and allow a government to grow that is for the benefit of the people, ALL THE PEOPLE.

My soldier needs my faith. And he has it. Always.

HOOWWWWWLLLLLLL

Imagine...somewhere between 2 & 3 am...I am not quite sober for the first time in a very very long time...and this is in my email.

Donna sent you this from ABC7Chicago.com link:Naperville father and son headed to IraqThe war in Iraq is being fought with the sacrifices of families around the nation, like the Perchatsch family of Naperville.http://abclocal.go.com/wls/story?section=local&id=5453935

Donna, for those blog-stalkers who don't actually know me, is my sister.

Sometimes I really really really just want my husband.

I am going to Chicago again! Well, not Chicago exactly, but I am flying into Chicago and going to another town which shall remain nameless lest one of my mad plethora of readers decide to go all stalker on me, hunt me down, and force me to autograph my blog postings. *snicker*

I had such a good time over Memorial Day weekend, that I’m going for a week to spend time with just my sister and the boys. BIL is likely to be Iraq by then, working with the Iraqi Minister of Defense. DH, of course, is already there, and has been for almost a month. Frankly, it sucks, big time. I haven’t slept one single night through since he left. If this continues until he gets back, I am going to be the world’s biggest WITCH by the time he returns (at which point, I invite all the above referenced stalkers to BRING IT). Fortunately for me, I do get to talk to him fairly regularly. Which is a great deal more than many get. It is one of the benefits of him being a) in the Air Force and b) maintenance, with no particular reason to go off base.
I am doing my best to write letters frequently, emails daily, and send lots of goodies.

In other news, I have finally paid off the last of my official debt! It has taken almost five years since the accident to get everything cleared. Mammie and Daddy hold the note on the other school loan, and I hope to have them paid off by the end of the year. It’s due to be completed in Nov, at the present rate I am paying. I can’t TELL you how good it feels to finally have that load off my shoulders. I’ve felt like the sword of Damocles was hanging over my head at times.

I don't generally pay attention to what comes out of Washington about the war. But DH's unit got orders. He's Air NG, so because his planes are going, doesn't mean he's going...BUT he volunteered for the full 4 months, and since his company is the contractor installing the new com/nav systems on the A-10's going over, he knows them much better than anyone else in the unit. The upshot of which is, he's on the list for the full 120 days. He's over the moon about it. Me...not so much. I am a big jumbly mix of worry, denial (he MIGHT be told to stand down, right? Right?), pride, jealousy...
The selfish bit is: now that it is more likely to have a direct impact on ME, I am paying more attention to what Congress is saying. :( I had stopped listening, because there was so much nay-saying in the press, and so many people saying they didn't support the military, the war, the US, the President, the troops, shouldn't have gone over in the first place, shouldn't be there, everyone should come home, let them sort their own affairs out, and IT MADE ME SO MAD!

Have they forgotten WHY we went there in the first place? Oh, “get over it”? OK. Well, let me tell you about Squiggy. And Chris. And Vinnie. AND THEIR FUNERALS!!! Squiggy was a bartender with my ex-boyfriend at Miss Kitty’s in Hoboken. His girlfriend was one of the nicest, best natured girls in the world. Chris played football for our High School team. He was a couple years ahead of me, and his sister was a year behind. We were on the swim team together during the summers. Different practice times, so I never really knew him well, maybe a smile or a wave at school, and hollering and cheering for him at swim meets. Chris’ dad died early in 2001. Chris landed a great job in NYC, and was helping his mother and sister get by. Vinnie went to my HS as well. He graduated before I started, but his brother and sister were in the band with me, and his parents were super active with all our fundraising, games, concerts…everything. I knew them well. And I know the effect that a loss of a member of their family had on them. But, I’m sure they’ll appreciate your advice to “Get over it.” I’ll be sure to let them know you said so.

So while YOU are saying we don’t belong over there, just remember that there were probably a whole bunch of French in 1770s who thought THEY shouldn’t be HERE helping us get you your God-given “RIGHT” to spout your crap. SO…SIT your ass down, SHUT the Hell up and get outta our way! ‘Cuz my husband’s going to IRAQ so those people can have the same damn rights you do!

PIFFFF…I’m as bad at blogging as I am at WRITING in a journal. I did think that perhaps the opportunity to have people “hear” what I have to say would make me more motivated. Apparently not!

I got an email for the 10 year reunion of Class of 1997, recently (actually…I got 14 emails from Classmates.com about this announcement-slightly excessive). I have mixed feelings about a reunion. For the most part, I’ve remained in contact with the people I was friends with in HS. And, honestly, there were a great many people I went to school with that I had no opinion of. Frankly, I wish them well…but don’t really have any burning desire to see them. I don’t seem to have that curiosity to know. Though…I do admit to enjoying the occasional bit of salacious or spicy gossip! ;-)

Several other things of late: Though Norm was told verbally he was eligible for 179 days per diem for each location he works, it turns out the contract is only written for 30 days per diem. This is NOT so good. Fortunately, we don’t own a house that we would have to be maintaining at the same time as we were living in some hinterland. So, for now, we’ve decided that we really can’t afford to lose my salary. That makes me uneasy, since we’re trying to have a baby, and I am NOT working to have my entire income eaten up by day-care and someone else raising my child to boot. I have pretty firm opinions about my first responsibility being to raising my children.

However, there are any number of times when I find it very difficult to LIKE what I am doing. Not the tasks themselves. They’re rather soothing in a somewhat fussy OCD way. What gets to me is I don’t have an overwhelming belief in the pharmaceutical industry. I can’t read a non-clinical report without being struck first and foremost that 34 beagle dogs were delivered to the lab at about 4 months of age, and after 12 weeks of study, they were all killed… “sacrificed by exanguination under anesthesia”…dope ‘em up and let ‘em bleed to death. Maybe if I BELIEVED that the drug in question would have major breakthrough benefit I could reconcile myself to the “necessity”. Truth is, I don’t, and I can’t. How long do I keep selling my soul? “You dance with the Devil, the Devil doesn’t change; the Devil changes you.”

I will descend from my soapbox. For now.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I have much to be thankful for. Norman and I are both healthy, we have families that love both of us, and we have friends who will always always be there supporting our dreams and offering rational counsel and sometimes giving a swift kick in the rear. Of course, I never need the latter. ;-)

I hope everyone reading has a wonderful holiday, surrounded by love and good fellowship. The greatest sin in our country is that there are people who will not have these things. Please keep them in your thoughts and pray that the coming year will be as rich with blessings for them as the past year has been rich with blessings for you.

Oh dear. It's been so long since I last (first) logged in that when I came to FINALLY do another post, I had forgotten my password...AND MY USERNAME! Apparently, I am Spacy Bethany lately.

I have been remarkably and insanely busy the last few weeks. Between ridiculous hours for projects at work, driving across the country with my husband, and driving to Ft. Benning, GA for a day (from PA, mind you), I have had no time to do anything

However...Mammie and Dad live in a very nice area of NM. It's quiet, and most of the roads are dirt, which in my Philly-suburb world is just crazy, but the people are ever so nice. Some friends of my mother's made Norman and I wedding presents...and we had never even spoken to them. We have a gorgeous crocheted afghan in shades of green, tan, and cream and an incredible doily (about 14" x 16" oval) that I can't wait to display. The vet there gives my mom goat milk for her dogs, at least, I think it's for the dogs...she offered some to Norm and me while we were driving down from Denver and Norm was distressed because he couldn't think of a reason not to drink it. It didn't make him feel any better when I (very smugly, I admit) reminded him, "I am lactose intolerant." Is there lactose in goat milk? Or is that just a cow juice thing? Mammie had forgotten about it by the time we arrived anyway, and niether one of us was inclined to remind her. Sorry, Mammie! Maybe next time...

Point the second: If ever you have the opportunity to go to a military BCT graduation, I would strongly recommend you take it. What a sight to see. My eldest nephew just graduated from 2-58th Infantry Training Brigade. I'm sure there are many who know better than I what that is, so I shan't expound for fear of exposing my ignorance. Nevertheless, I am excessively proud of him. He now continues on to Airborne training, and then to Ranger Indoctrination Program. And, yes, he will probably see active duty in Iraq before he turns 20. God bless the kids who are joining the armed forces in these uncertain times. May He hold them in the palm of his hands.