I Always Knew It Was Coming

  There are moments in time, where everything changes. When you know that nothing will ever be the same again. Sometimes, you get real quiet, as it was an unexpected event.

  Sometimes you get real quiet, because you always knew it was coming - and then once it arrives, you immediately recognize it for what it was.

  Several weeks ago, my father reached out to the mother of my children, attempting to get in contact with my daughters. The mother of my daughters said she would pass the message on.

  My father never heard from my daughters. He, too, has become the grandparent affected by parental alienation.

  Yesterday, the mailman arrived and made rounds. In the mail for me, was the birthday card I had sent my eldest daughter, in May of this year. It was marked "no longer at this address".

  The last point of contact for my children has now gone.

  Everything changes now. Nothing will ever be the same again. I got real quiet. I always knew it was coming.

I Went To Denny's - Thank You United 93.

I went to a Denny's today. Ordered an All American Grand Slam and a coke. Thumbing through the Twitter feed I saw that the President was visiting Shanksville,  Pennsylvania.

The final resting place of 40 heroes on board United Flight #93.

 I imagine that seventeen years ago, someone sat in a Denny's before starting their day, either to cross the country on one of the ill fated flights, or before attending the World Trade Center complex. They could have ordered the same meal as me, not knowing what their day may bring.

For the passengers of United 93, their voices continue to be heard through the wind chimes of the memorial tower.

Their loved ones have a place to go to grieve, to remember and to thank. Their children can thumb through the history books and learn what their father, mother, did. To save us all.

I went to Denny's today not knowing where my children are. They will be no monument, no location that they will go to when I have passed. They will not know until long after I am gone.

And nor will I should they precede me.

Thank You United 93 - for saving our children.

In Bruce We Trust

Bruce Springsteen had his first hit in Australia with "Born To Run". The track was met with moderate success until the advent of FM radio, where the crisp and clarity of transmission put it into perspective. When "Born in the USA" was released, it became clear that Springsteen was tormented by women in his life. "Tunnel of Love" being the benchmark.

The internet has given insights into the writings of Bruce, as we, fans, can now delve back and discover the trauma in his life - predominately created by relationships - and how it was covered in his writings.

Writers, it seems, capture the essence of the their relationships, in their words.

And so while reviewing some previously written material, I discovered that traits of certain women in my life had found their ways into my words. Some it was the way they wore their hair, others it was their toxic relationship with their mother, and most always included the trauma of being a father.

I never considered it before today but it appears that Springsteen was one of the most influential writers in my life.

In Bruce We trust.

Force Majeure of Parental Alientation

Each week, I look at the bank page where my blog resides and try to decide what stains will grace it.  Mostly, this blog alternates between the development of the writer within me, the injustices orchestrated against fathers, and occasionally, recent events in my personal life.

This week all three managed to combine into a "force majeure" event, a phrase normally associated with a contract where certain circumstances beyond their control make either party unable to fulfill their obligations.

Acts of God, natural disasters, civil war are the big three that most think of. Sometimes it can be the mental grind.

This week I had to take on the State of California and the Commonwealth of Australia as, once again, their errors which are compounded with automatic penalties, were once again identified as inaccurate. The State acknowledges that the error occurred, but claims it has no authority to correct it. At the same time, they report that they are legislated to act on a thirty (30) day response. The Commonwealth of Australia report that they have no recourse when payment is not made, but must continue to act until so resolved.

No one wants to take responsibility, but will proceed regardless rather than redress the error. Sounds like a poor parenting plan. And it is.

Having championed the cause, I have returned home to receive correspondence from my native country addressed to my daughter at her mother house. Apparently, her mother can receive payments for our daughter at that mailing address, but when a gift from me is sent to our daughter, it is marked "return to sender".

It was only in recent years that I found a name for the "force majeure" of my life.  It's called Parental Alienation. And it's taught by the evil mothers to our children, learned from their mother.

Wickedness, repeats history. As done to the mother of our children, so is now done to our children.

One Man's Demons

Demons.

The demons that live inside of all writers, are the Demons which they write about.

Injustice. Infidelity. Loss.

Some pain is arguably viable - the ridges of skin from a burn.

Some pain is arguably invisible - the soul of parents with missing children.

Some fathers write about the loss of their children to foreign forces.

Others write of the loss of their predecessor.

One man's demons, is another chapter of the Major Project.

Not For The Money

The Major Project.

I will have a major book release by the time my life is over.

Not for the money.

Not so I can walk into a book store and see my name on the spine of a series of books.

Not so I can be on television of have a major motion picture based on the book.

But so my children will know just what their Father went through.

Happy 21st Birthday

In Australia, it is November 17, and my youngest child turns 21 today.

It has been 4 years to the day since we last spoke on the phone.

It has been 4 years and a day since her mother said she would never allow her to visit me in the USA.

It is 7 years since her mother violated court orders and moved her 3 states away.

It is 8 years since I last flew back to Australia, and her mother withheld her from me.

It is almost 12 years since I left Australia.

Her 21st birthday marks the end. It is over.

It's too late for my girls, lessons learned:

- Manage your child child support. Make it your second job and ensure you receive credit for everything.
- As bad as it may be, stay close to your children. You cannot immediately rebuke that which is told to your children, from 7811 miles away.
 
Had I known I would lose both my children to their mothers forked tongue, I would not have left to remarry and have the family structure that was missing the first time.

I would have stayed a single, Dad.

My Favorite Photograph

When I was a child, my parents divorced. As a teenager I visited my father at his place of work one time and saw a photograph of my brother and I on his desk. It was an old photograph, taken when we first started school. 

When I asked my father about it he said "It's my favorite photograph."

Earlier this week I was sitting at my own work desk when an employee asked about a photograph of my own daughters. The phrase rolled off my tongue.

"It's my favorite photograph."

And in a moment of revelation, I learned yet another thing about my own parents divorce. My father's favorite photograph was just that, because,  that is all that he had.

The young girl in my photograph will be 21 in about three weeks. It's been four years since we spoke on the phone, and nine years since I have seen her. I have no idea who she is now.

With reverence to Ringo Starr, now, all I've got is a photograph.

Peering In On My Life.

  I have been a resident of the United States just on 11 years. I am an accomplished writer, published in a number of magazines and books.

  I never expected that my writing would take on such admiration from those whom have no contact with me. I'm not talking about distant fans, I'm referring to those whom once were part of my life, who's own choice was to have nothing to do with my life, who apparently seem unable to let me continue on with my own life, without them peering in.

  Stalker? Crazed fan? Or just crazy?

  Recently I discovered that my professional life has drawn the attention of someone, who's last conversation with me about seven years ago included the words "We need to have better communication." I haven't heard from them since, and they have gone on to omit notifications, that they would have expected from me.

  The internet leaves a digital trail everywhere you go. If you're going to peer in on my life, and want to remain anonymous, you probably shouldn't do it while logged into your own profile.

Parental Alienation

  To the First Fans: thank you for your wishes. Recovery is underway and I have returned to work.

 In Brisbane Australia, comes the story of a Family Law Court Judge who awarded custody to the father of three children, after finding that the mother engaged in parental alienation by coaching their children in lies. Not surprisingly,  the grandmother of the children was equally culpable in the lies and deceit.

  One father's work to remain in contact with his children, has not been in vain.