18 Years Past

 

   Eighteen years ago, at about this time, I sat in the departure lounge of Qantas Airlines Brisbane, Australia, holding my youngest daughters hand, before I departed on a plane. It wasn't any plane, it was a plane that would take me to the USA. When my flight was called for boarding, I held back, holding my daughters hand, until last call. I crouched down, hugged her and kissed her.

    "Daddy loves you chickybabe." 

    I stood, turned, and headed down the gantry tears streaming down my face. 

    I had no expectation at that time of the events that would follow, that would result in that being the second last occasion I saw that child.

    That child is now a grown woman, living her own life, making her own decision. One of those decision is not to have any relationship with me.

    I still have her email of four words "Don't contact me again."

    My Father, divorced himself, was the scourge of parental alienation with untruthfulness perpetrated by my mother as to why my He wasn't in my life. Later as a teenager, I came to discovered the truth, and even later, as a divorced father myself, learnt that what goes unchallenged, becomes accepted as "the new normal".

    But for some, that "new normal" is all they know. As was done to me, was done to the mother our children by her own mother. Years ago - maybe before we were married, the girls mother ran into her Father and when she later sought out to verify the stories she had been told by her mother - his ex wife, she was faced with the reality that what she heard was not accurate. Faced with the consequences, she choose to exclude her Father, unable to accept, that her mother had lied to her about why her Dad was not in her life.

    In my forthcoming book, I included this, and other examples of the parental alienation I endured, for two reasons. 

    It's been 18 years past since I departed Australia, but I never departed my role as a Father. Someday, someone will run into my daughters and say "I read what your Dad went through."

    The second reason is its been 18 years past since I left Australia. I write for the next guy. The next guy could be my ex wifes only son - the half brother to my daughters. I thought I was good enough to stop the promulgation of alienation. Here's hoping that my daughters brother does better than those in the family before him. 

    

Happy Birthday Chickybabe

 

 

 

 

 

    Happy birthday Chickybabe.

    Each year on this day I think back to the first occurrence of this day. What occurred, what had to happen, who brought you into the world.

    As you grew, I use to think that the worst thing that could occur was that your life would be taken by accident - vehicular, illness,  abduction - I never though that the worst thing that could occur would be that your life would be taken by alienation.

    I am sorry.

    You have now been out of my life longer than you were in it, and your grandfather - Poppy, has lost the grandchildren he tried to recapture life with - after his children were taken by alienation.

    And you will probably do the same, should you choose to have children.

    Happy birthday, my child.

The Abduction of Sarah

 

                It is twelve years today since I last saw my youngest daughter, Sarah. At the time, she was twelve years and thirteen days old. In a few weeks when Christmas arrives, I will have not seen my Daughter for more than half of her life.

                And what atrocity occurred to warrant this segregation of Daughter and Father?

                Her Mother and I divorced.

                Weeks after our divorce, her Mother remarried, and later had a child with the other man. Sarah became the “lost” child, as her Mother began to fabricate a life for her new family. Apparently, unnoticed by her Mother, Sarah slipped into a life of vice and crime, and like all divorced Fathers, I found out about it too late. Upon learning of her situation, when I telephoned Sarah’s school principal, I was informed that Sarah was “a child at risk.”

                I telephoned her Mother and suggested that Sarah reside with me, where Sarah could be monitored and have oversight while she corrected her ways and got on with her schooling. Within seven days of that conversation, her Mother absconded with our child, fled across three State lines, and took up residency in a jurisdiction where I had no reach.

                Had I done those same actions, there would be Amber alerts, wall to wall television coverage until the child was found, and then, I would have been swiftly incarcerated. But, because it was her Mother that broke the same Federal and State laws that I am bound to, there would be no repercussions, no enforcement and no consequences.

                Her Mother would rather destroy the child, than co parent with me.

                And I would have to start over, again. Except this time, I would have to restart the documentation to ensure access to our child with another country, another state, another government and another school.

                The slippage of time would rob me of her 13^th through 21^st birthdays. I would not know of her milestone events, her health, her academic awards, or her graduation. There would be no Christmas or holidays together, and my Father became collateral damage, unable to see his Grandchild. This would be in addition, to whatever lies the child was told about me.

                When the telephone went unanswered at our scheduled calling time, her mail began to be returned. Scrawled in her Mother’s handwriting on the envelopes and packages were the words “no longer at this address”.

                It would be years before I could classify her Mother’s actions as “Parental Alienation.”  I’d always treated her Mothers actions as nothing less than child abduction, albeit the discovery was after the fact.

                A parent knows within minutes, sometimes hours, when their child is abducted. An alienated parent doesn’t find out until much later.

                The parent of an abducted child has multiple law enforcement agencies chasing down leads, investigating sightings and sharing information. An alienated parent has to do their own leg work.

                The parent of an abducted child fears for their child’s life. An alienated parent fears that the child will never recover their life.

                The parent of an abducted child knows that the longer it takes, the less likelihood the child will be found.  An alienated parent usually starts at this point, as they learn of what has already occurred. They are playing from behind the moment they discover that their child has been “abducted”. For me, it was almost nine months before I uncovered that Sarah was “a child at risk”.  A perpetrator given nine months head start knows that the authorities have little chance of catching them.

                It is too late for my youngest daughter, Sarah. If She is still alive, She is now an adult who chooses to have no contact with her Father. It is reasonable to assume that Sarah was told lies by her Mother, which She accepted as truth, as I was not physically present to refute them. My only hope is to wait until my daughter questions one of those lies, and then seeks me out to verify. I pray that Sarah has better critical thinking skills that Her Mother.  Sarah’s Mother is also the daughter of an alienated Father.

                Before we were married, her Mother and I were walking along the beach together when we ran into her Father. In the weeks thereafter, Sarah’s Mother sought clarity over the horror stories that Her Mother had told, and her Father refuted them. When Sarah’s Mother independently verified her Father’s version, She learned that Her Mother had manufactured the stories about her Father, in order to cover up immoral sins. Sarah’s Mother choose not to repair the relationship with her Father, because She could not accept that her Mother’s account of her Father’s absence in her life, were all lies.

                It is twelve years today since I last saw my youngest daughter, Sarah. At the time she was twelve years and thirteen days old. You can diminish the actions of her Mother to “Parental Alienation” as much as you like, but as her Father, this is the story of the abduction of my youngest daughter, Sarah.

I Write

  I write.

  I write about my children, about Parental Alienation, about the unfairness in the post divorce world towards Fathers. But until this week, I have never written about my ex wife.

  Not so much of my ex wife, but more of her actions. The actions that she learned as a child from her mother, which she replicated to our children. Twenty two years after our divorce, I look at what my ex wife has done to our children, and see the similarities that her mother did to her.

  The cycle has to stop.

  And it does with me.

  I write.

  I write about my children, about Parental Alienation, about the unfairness in the post divorce world towards Fathers. But until this week, I have never written about my ex wife's parental alienation of our children.

Happy Birthday Chickybabe

  Happy birthday Chickybabe.

  Today, my eldest daughter, turns 30.

  When I was 30, I was already separated, on the cusp of divorce, with two daughters I cared for more than...well, more than my own relationships and career. I had already won two sailing titles and the third would come the following year, but it was the girls that were my greatest achievement.

  I had also isolated one of my parents from my daughters when they were unable to follow through on the manner in which their mother and I had wanted the girls to be brought up. I would later isolate the other parent, my Father, however, he would see the error of his ways and that would be repaired.

  As expected, my Father was a better man than me. I have been isolated from the girls and it has not been repaired.

  I taught my daughters not to allow evil in to their lives, and to keep it at bay. I never envisaged that I would be the evil they keep at bay. But, unlike where I made my own choice, their choice has been influenced by their mother, and their grandmother.  Two people whom were unable to follow through in the manner in which their mother and I wanted the girls to be brought up. Being a little over 7000 miles away and unable to counter any, and all, evils by these people, I was always playing from behind.

  With no voice to counter them, the girls unknowingly succumbed to their evil.

  It is too late for my girls.

  The days are long and the years go by fast.

  My eldest is 30 today. I have been out of her life more than I have been in it.

  Happy birthday Chickybabe. I never left you.

Easter Sunday Parental Alienation

  It is the early hours of Easter Sunday morning. The sun has just risen, the light is still soft across the county, and I am working on a feature article dealing with Parental Alienation.

  While not a "holiday" in the United States, Easter is till celebrated as a time of families coming together. Some Fathers will not see their children, not through choice, but through the circumstances dictated to them by others - mostly the narcissist mother.

  The irony of Parental Alienation is that the Father was good enough to be there, through the birth, through the years, and it is only because of the divorce or separation that they "suddenly" become unfit, subject to courts and ridicule. Most will assume Father roles in other families where there is no issue - there only ever seems to be an issue perpetrated by the mother of his children.

  Much like I did with my own parents marriage, eventually, the child will discover that not all events as told by their alienating parent are true, complete, or concise.

  By which time, both the child and the alienated parent have already lost.

 

Go Home To Your Own Country

  It finally happened.

  I was told to go back to my own country.

  As a child I remember my grandfather, in particular, referring to the people from South East Asia as "new Australians". These were the same people that I rode the bus to school, played football, and lived in the military village with.

  I never understood the opposition to them.

  I never heard my father in law, who saw hand to hand combat in Viet Nam, speak harshly of them.

  While making a delivery at a San Diego Hotel I  was approached by the valet - who in hindsight, was policing the public street in front of his hotel. After being told to step away he uttered the phrase "Why don't you go back to your country."

  Inside, immediately, neither of the two staff of the hotel on duty were able to assist, referring me to the Hotel Manager. An email within 90 minutes outlining the incident came back with an "out of office" and I would have to wait till Monday.

  The manager eventually responded, touting the multicultural element of the hotel and their supposed extensive training, but failed to address my complaint. I asked her to review and get back to me.

  A week has passed and not a peep from her. It's as though, the incident never occurred.

  And further on we go.

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.

The Wayside

In a few days, I will be celebrating a birthday.

When I was a new Dad, birthdays were events that were planned weeks in advance. Travel, dining, and if required, accommodation. First my eldest, and then later joined by her younger sister, they would be "moments" of togetherness.

And they were only moments. Those togetherness moments went by the wayside once the separation and the divorce began. Years later, although remarried, they are still by the wayside.

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.

Stalkers in the Shadows

In the James Bond film, Spectre, the "Nine Eyes" committee chairman, "C", advocates for more surveillance.

Recently, and not for the first time, I have, again, discovered that one of the people in my past, is yet again stalking me. This time, they are operating under their own name, with ambiguous credentials for their employment. Truly, one of those moments in life where I can now look back and say that I missed a bullet,  this is a person who made their choice to depart from my life.

So what is it that keeps bringing these persons back into my life?  It's hard to believe that this person, or the previous, have any interest in what I do - they have not contacted me. (Contacted others around me, but not me.)  Lingering in the background they just seem to be watching what I do.

Perhaps lamenting the wrongs that they portrayed to me, waiting to see if such atrocities will make it into print.

Here's hoping that I never make it the list occupied by Gwyneth Paltrow, Lennon and Jodi Foster.

How Far Will You Go To Write?

How far will you go to write?

Will you...

• give up your country?
• take a chance on an untested ability? 
• maintain a day job that can, on occasion, take your writing time away?

Since movng to the United States, I have never worked as hard as I have recently. It's not about just making a wage, it's not about saving for a rainy day, it's about volume.

The volume of work - do more with less for the same amount.  How far can an employer go?

I have recently lost a lot of my writing time, not though neglect. not through disinterest...but through work. Forty days and night have been lost. I went forty days without writing.

Oh, the humanity.

How far will you to go write?

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.

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.

February 28

Today's the day the Teddy Bears have their picnic.

Feb 28. An iconic day in history.

A buddy of mine has a birthday.

A woman I once knew has a birthday -  she once sent me a pager that she was ready to settle down. Apparently not.

On Ancestry.com, my grandparents were married today.

Twenty years ago my divorce was finalized.

Thank you, Tori Amos. 

Verizon Wireless Bait and Switch

  There are entities, who believe that they are so far above reproach, that they do not have to supply the level of service that they bill for. The worst offenders are cell phone carriers,  and Verizon Wireless heads that list.

  I have been receiving nuisance calls from one telephone number.  Incoming calls at 11:30pm at night, 4:30am in the morning, 6:10am on Sunday morning. Inconvenient times. I know my cell phone carrier has been charging for the past 12 years for a block application - I'll call customer service and ask them to activate it.

  "I'm sorry, Verizon Wireless can't activate call blocking without changing your plan." (Which invokes a higher monthly cost.)

  Verizon Wireless Customer Service is unable to commence a call blocking service that I have already been paying for, without charging me a higher rate? (Sounds like extortion.)

  Customer Service reports that they cannot activate the service, but, I can use the on line web page to access my account and start the call blocking service.

  Later that day, I access the on line web page, log into my account and block the incoming call across all cell phone lines.

  Want to guess who calls me the next day at 9.55pm? My blocked caller. I call Verizon Wireless and sit on hold for an hour without an answer before calling it a night. The next morning, my nuisance caller is at at it again at 06:05am and I phone my cell phone carrier straight away.

  "We can't explain why your block caller is able to get through - let me put your through to Technical Support Tier II."

  "You don't have any blocked numbers," Tier II claims. I call them out and print out a copy of the on line account not only showing the blocked cell phone number,  but the expiration date.

  "Oh, well...we can't explain why your blocked caller is getting through."

  That's what I thought. Verizon Wireless can't supply the services that they have been charging me for. Why, am I still paying them?

  Can you hear that? 

National Screenwriters Day

January 5 is National Screenwriters Day.

One day, my children will be watching and recognize themselves.

And they will sit behind while the credits roll up, just so they know.

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.

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Angels and Miracles

A story twenty five years waiting to be written, represents the second appearance this year and the fifth overall.

For Alyse and Meghan, who never knew their Father.

You Let It Be

     There will come a time when"those" will look upon the actions of "them" and ask themselves, "How did we let it get to be this way?"

     And those in the know will turn to them and say "You did it to yourself."

     As the plans commence from the Day of Righteous,  it is not without notice that another Date of Infamy arrives. Had not the loss been, I would not be the writer that I am now.  Someday, that story may appear in a book, maybe in a Chicken Soup for the Soul publication. They will read and wonder "How did we let it get to be this way?"

     You let it be.