17 Years

 To those that celebrate, happy thanksgiving.

In Minnesota, @analienatedfather posted in his blog about the alienation of his children. Michael is going on eleven years without seeing his children. 💔

Today, is 17 years since I last saw my youngest daughter. 💔

I have no idea where she is now, I have no idea where she is now.

I hope the life she has is as she wanted.

I stil live at the same address and phone number I have for the last twenty years, in the hope that one day both my daughters will reach out. As was done to their mother, has now been done to them.

Michael and I have nothing to give thanks for over our children, as we wait, for one day that they open that door.

Why Am I Not Writing?

 

 

Recently, a fan of my work asked "why are you not writing?'

 I am writing - but you can't see it.

What the fan really meant by their question is "why has it been so long since your last publication?" That's a much better question.

Currently, the professional work is swallowing the complete "writing". Somewhere between ten and twelve hours a day, I spend my time writing, rewriting, researching, interviewing, for a major project. Much like a James Patterson, there's a downtime between publications that the reader does not see.

My readers also understand that unlike James Patterson, I'm not there yet as a full time writer.

In the profesisonal world, our group just celebrated one (1) year since compsition, though my section has only existed since nine (9) months.I've probably got another nine (9) months to produce three (3) times the amount of work.

Moonshot type work.

From the First Fan: Darkness, Signposts and an Eclipse

 

 

    In a recent conversation with a "first fan" (might even have been the first, first fan) they were talking about the darkness that has engulfed their life. Not the events, but the feeling that the events have left upon them.

    The same day, I received word from an "ally" who had received photographs of the children he has not seen in six years. The photographs were taken just prior to the last time that he saw his children, but not previously seen by him before. The were supplied by a "first fan" of his, an unknown person who had heard their story, and by chance, made an inquiry and found the photos. Found that which was not known to my "ally".

    With my "first fan" we were talking about darkness not being a degree of light, and they indicated that it was a feeling of insomnia and oppression. For me, it's a feeling of weight, a burden that is carried forward every single day.

    The first fan and I were talking and I began to think about signposts in my life, moments, where if I had gone one way instead of the other, I might now be where I am today. Signposts that you could backtrack to. I had originally thought there were but three (at most) of these moments in my life, and it turns out, that I was a moment for the first fan. That make the count four.

    The ally who received the photographs of this children, from an unknown ally, counts those photographs as signpost for him, he thinks about six or seven in total in his life.

    Seven moments spread over the course of 50 or more years that have led me to exactly where I am today. I could not have arrived here without all that alignment occurring at the exact moments that they did.

    In the United State today was a solar eclipse, an astronomical event that was calculated by the ancient Greeks thousands of years ago. Thousands of years of calculations down to a three minute event.

    A three minute event of darkness in the making...since the beginning of time.

    A signpost of darkness.

    Treat your signposts with respect. I have not.  

You Just Never Know

 

  I had a friend pass away late last year. He was someone who worked tirelessly in the community, and he certainly helped me. I joined his major project when I was but 20 years old and stayed with him for 20 years. He was a good man. He was my friend.

  The last time I saw him we had lunch while I was in Australia. We talked and he mentioned someone who was in his major project. I had looked for that person many times previously without success, and since his passing, had looked at least three times. Without success. 

  Three weeks ago I looked again and found them. I was duty bound to deliver the news once I confirmed that it was the person whom I knew. I'd hate to be delivering a death notice to the wrong person. We've talked and they have commented on my writing. 

  You just never know where the first fans are hiding. 

  

It Is Not That I Haven't Written...

 

     It is not that I haven't written, it is that I haven't written what I have written about. 

     In the professional world, I recently had a move from a local position to a state position. I am still working through the nuances of working from home for the state position, whilst maintaining contact with my local position, which I am scheduled to return to after this secondment. 

    The battle of working for two "masters" at this time is a balance of diplomacy for both. 

    It has also meant that my coworkers at home are now fury four legged companions who casually report for work at the same time I do, drape themselves wherever they feel appropriate, and take a nap. 

    Australian Fathers Day is today, or rather was yesterday in Australia. I have not heard from my own daughters and probably never will.

    And that...is something not worth blogging about. 

My Wifes Ex Husband...In A Podcast

    

 

 

 

 

    On November 1, 2022,  Chicken Soup for the Soul  released their book in their series, My Wonderful Wacky Family. Contained within the story is my story of Joes, My Wifes Ex Husband. Joes story would later be turned into the Chicken Soup for the Soul Podcast.

    I present to you, a rerun of the podcast, of My Wifes Ex Husband, this Fathers Day weekend. 

   My Wifes Ex Husband In a Podcast.

 

 

 

 

I Do Not Like Cats - In A Podcast

 

Chicken Soup for the Soul have released, Lessons Learned From My Cat. It includes my story of how a cat-detesting  guy from Australia ended up with two feline companions while living in the United States of America.

And now it's on a podcast. 

Chicken Soup for the Soul with Amy Newmark: When the Cat Is Meant to Be on Apple Podcasts

I Do Not Like Cats

 

On February 14, 2023,  Chicken Soup for the Soul will release the next book in their series, Lessons Learned From My Cat. It includes my story of how a cat-detesting  guy from Australia ended up with two feline companions while living in the United States of America. 

    I Do Not Like Cats  was written during the pandemic while I was the carer for my wife's mother. On the day that I put the final touches on it, Jasper (kitty cat) sat in my lap one last time. Days later, his job caring for my mother in law was done, and shortly thereafter, he succumbed to a known medical condition.

    As for #Jacob...well, he still lives with me, still has the same routine, but now has the run of the entire house. 

    Which is just as well, cause I Do Not Like Cats. 

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. 

    

Christmas in Chesterfield Inlet, Again.

 

 

On the last Friday before Christmas, I shut down my computer, left the pager on the desk, turned the "out of office" on and headed through the door, making my way to the airport headed for Chesterfield Inlet.

 It appears upon arrival I may be somewhat warmer than other parts of the United States.

  Merry Christmas Chickybabes. 

My Wifes Ex Husband

    

 

 

 

 

    On November 1, 2022,  Chicken Soup for the Soul will release the next book in their series, My Wonderful Wacky Family.

    Almost four years, to the day, since I was last published within the Chicken Soup for the Soul series, I have returned to their publications with my next story, My Wifes Ex Husband.  This is the story of Joe and I - two divorced men trying to make sence of the relationship when I marry into the family.

    It is, in my mind, one the two most difficulty pieces of literature that I have written, and conicdently, the piece prior to this, was the previous most difficult.

    My Wifes Ex Husband was written during the pandemic while I was the in house carer for my wifes mother. It was written of the most significant man in my life, outside of my own father.

    It was an honor to write of Jeanette's son, Jillian and Janeva's Dad, and Everley's Grandpa.

 

 

 

 

You Snooze, You Loose

 

 

    In 2009 I started working on a second major body of work. That piece was a factional account of global sporting event.  The work was started in what was known as National Novel Writting Month. Participants would write their story, upload the title and synopsis, and as they proceed, enter a word count for their body of work.

    My progress in that after completing the event, resulted in about 120,000 words written - but it was missing something. So, I set it aside.

    Last week I returned to the body of work having sourced some information that would add the details I needed to complete the work. While researching that, by chance, I just happened to enter the parameters of my work into Amazon.

    Son of a bitch. The exact same piece of work using the same title and a slight varient of my work was published in April this year, by someone I do not know.

    Coincidence? Probably. Liable? Probably not.

    You snooze, you loose.

News News News News

 New. News. News. News.

But I can't tell you.

Not till November 1.

Then, I can tell you the news.

But you will be second to know.

New Digs

    2022 has been a year, already of upheaval. This also includes the reassignment of my professional life.

    After sixteen years, during which I studied and credentialed in a specialized field. I am moving across to another tract to see out my working life. I am hoping that the return to less combative late night telephone conversations and a regular schedule will allow for the completion of the major project, which, must be completed.

I Had No ...

    

    I had not recognized that I had not written in the calendar year of 2022 as yet.

    I had not known that I had not written until I was asked why I had not written.

    I had no answer to why I had not written when I had written in the year.

    I had not realized that other had noticed that I had not written until they mentioned that they were looking for my writings.

    I had no fans before I wrote my stories and now that I have fans the stories must continue to be wrote. 

Blizzard Entertainment - a Big Fat F.

    In September 2021, Blizzard Entertainment released Diablo 2: Resurrection. This was a game that a buddy introduced me to in about 2001 and we played many a late hour into the night this role playing game (RPG) It was my first foray into the "fantasy" world, and twenty years later, I returned to the remastered original game. On a Saturday morning I sat down to chronicle my return.

0900: Turn on computer, upload game, press play. Entered the waiting cue to access the server as player #238.

0945: Finally entered the game.

0946: Game crashed to desktop.

0947: Reentered the waiting cue as player # 132.

1016: Crash to desktop prior to entering server lobby.

1017: Reentered the waiting cur as player 78.

Approximately 1105:  Server converted me to off line play. Press online and reenter the waiting cue as player #314.

1215: Game crashed to desktop.

    After three (3) hours of "gameplay" I balanced my checking account, requested a copy of my credit report, finalized some end of month bills before they were due, discarded motor vehicle repair orders predating 2015, defrosted some frozen food for dinner this evening, and surfed the yachting classifieds for a replacement.

    Blizzard get a big fat F for their theft of US$60 for unavailable downloadable content. 

22 June 2021 07:16AM

 

Welcome, my child. 

A little girl.

...and once again, the Bourgeois family has provided the Madden family with another lost link. 

Home After Three Months

For the past three months, I have been ....away from home. This Memorial Day weekend is the first weekend that I have been home, since...Saint Patrick's Day

Home being the mailing address where my bills are sent - not the nation of my birth.

Very shortly, I will be transitioning into a new role, compliments of, perhaps the second most important woman in my life.

I'll be getting back to writing and recovery.

It Was All He Had

 

The following is a reproduction of an article that I wrote for the Fathers Rights Movement California State Chapter on 6 Feb 2021.

    My parents were divorced when I was young. As a teen and later as a college student, I'd occasionally visit Dad at the Army base he lived and worked at. On his desk were photographs of my brother and I but they were old photos...as toddlers, the first day of school - there was nothing recent.

    I never understood why.

    Come forward sixteen years and I'm divorced with two daughters. On my last day in Australia before coming to the USA, Dad took us to a fine seafood restaurant. At the end of the meal a photo was taken of the people present, including my Dad, my brother, and my daughters.

    Come forward another sixteen years and and the photo pops up on my Facebook memories.

    And suddenly...I understand why Dad only had old photos of my brother and I.

    It was all he had.

    The photograph taken at the restaurant was the last time my Father saw his granddaughters. It was the second last time I saw my daughters.

    Now, it is all that I have. 

The Dreamtime Stories

It has a been...a quiet time. A Dreamtime.

For the First Fans - we have lost three in sixty days.

The Big Man was the first to go. He taught me more about parenting then my own Father did.

The next was Her Mom. She needed the dependent care but in the end, She would always been the disobedient person that She was, in need of oversight at all times, and needing saving when there was no oversight. She wanted to make Her own decisions, and that is why She has gone.

The third, I did not not know well, but Her loss punctuated the generational gap.

There is a child that will be born this year, a child that will be the first (known) grandchild to me.

...and suddenly, the stories I should have written have now become the stories that will be told to a young child. The stories that they will hear of the Big Man, Large Marge and another, will no longer be coming from the lips of those people, but will be regaled by story tellers.

The aboriginal people of Australia speak of the Dreamtime, to explain the landscape of the land, and the history of their people. And I will speak of the Dreamtime in the technological era, of the people that came before the child, and of what the child meant to those people.

I wonder if my own children will tell the Dreamtime story of their Father to their children?