The Truth

The Truth- on stand-by... can there be such a thing? 

I finally received one telephone call, yesterday, from a dear son. I could tell that he was stressed out. Three decent officers came to my gate and told me my son had to reach me via the emergency line. Living in a zone, without decent telephone service, is very hard on me, in particular. I prefer to know if things are alright; if my sons and their families are in need of anything; how their income is doing... if it is enough to pay all their bills... things a mother is concerned with.

I haven't heard that anyone has been in the worst trouble you could find because of 'travel.' I can think of three instances where people got in the worst trouble and only a 'miracle' protected them, during world travel.

One situation that I 'experienced'... secondary... 'standing beside', so to speak was...

... a young woman had to have emergency surgery in a foreign country and the mother did not have her passport updated and ready. She was almost impossible to console because she couldn't get to her child. The adult child was travelling with a irresponsible partner. Where do people go when they need a prayer, consolation, and 'real help?'

... another situation... a severe attack by an animal required the young man to fly back to Canada, for treatment, because they didn't want, or couldn't, spend the huge sum of 'credit card debt' to bandage his hand, in the country they were in. A lack of insurance and real funds for unpreparedness caused this very costly decision to return to Canada for treatment... flying back, getting treated, flying back again... outrageously expensive. That 'cut short' the vacation by at least a month because they really needed to get back to work and earn that vacation... underfunded and over- zealous. I worry about that thinking versus planning versus outcome.

... a emergency surgery was needed... a young man had let his insurance lapse and his family had to do a 'go fund me' to find the money for that 'foreign country' rescue.

Now, why do I talk about these types of things? 

Well, many people would like to 'cover up' things that are happening but there are times where nobody can cover anything up... during an emergency... life and death. That's when people tell the truth... if they care enough to rescue someone.

Covering up the truth is the greatest travesty and tragedy when people are suffering. Who can find a huge sum of money to 'fix it' as it is needed?

So, what is the most 'calming' thing that can help a person who enters into a completely unknown situation with complete strangers? Try to find out the truth. I wrote a long story and sent it to my sons, yesterday, about my current situation. It detailed a, approximate two year, time span. This is something we should all be aware of... a completely new situation with total strangers is a very dangerous life situation to enter into without some 'church people' or people who have known you for a very long time to be able to say...

Hmm, I don't think that can be true of that person. They have never shown that behaviour before... there would have to be a huge change in them to have me believe that would be true... in all those rumours, there's always room for the truth... calling once a month doesn't mean you're dependent... it just means you're responsible... 

So, let's get into lingo I am unfamiliar with... 

What is a butte? 

One person said it is a 'person' who is supposed to take punishment for another person because the person who deserves the punishment can't 'take' the punishment. 

I almost had a fit when I was told this! This is not civilized thinking or behaviour. Only criminals think this way. For over two thousand years, the law has dictated that 'you do the crime, you do time...,' which is a personal responsibility dictum... for anyone who thinks the law is 'a friend,' the law is nobody's friend... it is a last option pressure, usually applied by strangers... brought on by... listen very carefully here... someone who 'set you up' or someone who is punishing people 'privately.'

I wish I hadn't erased ten years of writing, on this blog. I had a really good story about the law, why we need it, and who tends to need it, etcetera. 

People who think they are 'above the law' worry me if they are covering up 'stuff.' For instance, a person who has a very bad way of treating people might hit someone and then say... "Are you going to listen to me?" This old- school rod of iron beastly behaviour is not going to 'wash with me!' Before my divorce, I was in a family, like that... 'beat the hell out of someone...,' cover it up... pseudo apologize... 'beat the hell out of someone...,' cover it up.

My Dad, gone to heaven, was not like that. He was civilized. He didn't beat his wife. Talking things out was normal... especially over the 'dinner table.' We ate together, we talked about the day, sometimes Dad started an argument with Mom, same topic every time... about building another house... and Mom would balk at this because she enjoyed living in the first new house Dad built for us and she didn't want to 'move every year' and create such upheaval in her life.

So, let's talk about how Dad dealt with a problem when a problem arose... he would ask our opinions. I don't mind telling you that the problems I had, that precipitated my personal divorce, were not easy to 'get to the truth' because some people think the outcome of a difficult situation might be better were they to keep very critical things 'private.' There are things I didn't get to know, for ten years after my divorce, that would have caused the end of my marriage much sooner... if only I had been told.

So, I'm reading a book, right now, called, Strengthening your Grip. I'm going to be really honest here. This book is not about 'punishing' another human being. It's about 'getting a handle on life' when things are really hard.

I would like to see 'the truth' shift. I mean this in every way you can imagine. I came up with the acronym 'shift' this year, in my prayer time... 

S... Safety... 

Sh... Safe housing

i... Integrity

f... Food

t... Transportation... (a vehicle)- a safe vehicle where germs are contained; and violence is not present.

I have prayed that, for my children, so many times.

If I had to 'investigate' something I suspected... physical abuse, per se, I would ask for a doctor to examine the person I thought was being victimized. That would be a very easy 'finding' unless they're whacking your head and you have a lot of hair. I had a car rollover, when I was 16 years old, and the concussion and resulting scar from the stitches is under the hair. Like 'pressing on a bruise' to see if it still hurts... I can find that scar, just like that.' That scar is almost 56 years old. 

I could write for another hour on physical scars that become emotional scars... another day, perhaps.

Sufficient to say... if I wasn't told the truth for ten years, or more, think about how many people 'hide the truth' to 'save their skin' instead of having someone challenge 'old school thinking,' resulting in old school behaviour that often sounds like this... "Are you going to obey?" 

   

My Three Sons- Most Important

Most Important... I just called Scott, Tyler, and Jordan. My phones, here, in Dauphin, have been a nightmare.

My greatest concern is for my three sons. 

My move to Dauphin, from Winnipeg, was precipitated by a desire for a late in life relationship so I, Elfrieda, did marry Warren David Justice in the back yard of 225 5th Avenue, N.E. in a private ceremony., 2022.

For people who think about making a drastic change in life... like moving almost four hours away from 'home town' Winnipeg, I caution anyone who imagines that this will be an easy life transition. You can't just walk into a job. It's very difficult to find a new church. As a lifetime church attender, it has been very hard to find a church family.

Here, I have, inch by inch, created a few quilts... hand sewing is therapeutic when I'm stressed out. The first project Warren and Elfrieda made was a 'garden box.' The reason we didn't go straight to building the gazebo... was because Warren does not have a construction background. I was quite worried about that. 

So, I suggested we start with a garden box, in the same style as the one I moved out here from where it was built, 3 Donegal Bay, Mother's Day.

 

This is the garden box when it was still at 3 Donegal Bay, where I was living. I purchased the lumber for all the garden boxes that were built on this property and my son built them for me as a Mother's Day gift.

The 'nonsense' photo, which I thought I would never post, below, is the old Dodge Ram, my dear Bruce owned. He asked me to pose for this silliness 'back when.'

I owned this 2014. It's the truck I had an accident with September 7... in Winnipeg.

So, the garden boxes, the double ones, in size, had to stay at 3 Donegal Bay because they were so large, we couldn't move them.

This address was actually a forced move and I'm sure I'll still be in contact with Restall and Restall, the law firm that has been so lax in calling me back.

I was wondering where my settlement was, for this address, as I invested in the basement renovation... sweat equity as well as a huge amount of my personal monies for the construction materials to 'fix it up.'

This photo was taken on Donegal Bay, at London, in Winnipeg.

Now, back to the projects that I produced, where I currently live.

The garden box that I purchased materials for, at McMunn's, was made in the same style as the garden boxes produced at 3 Donegal Bay. I was really, a little bit upset, at myself for buying the wrong lumber... most people would say... 'as if you can buy wrong lumber!' I had purchased a grade of lumber that was of a stronger and higher quality (see my 2024 photos under 'Gardening'), for the box I moved to Dauphin. I didn't ask for the correct 'thing' when I purchased lumber here. Sometimes, you only notice the difference, in comparison. We went to Canadian Tire, and bought a Dewalt saw and the project proceeded. That was the first outdoor project, completed, at 225 5th Avenue.

The indoor renovations that I started immediately, were very necessary because the 'doggie odour' of those beautiful dogs you saw in a previous story... had created quite an unpleasant smell in the house.

I featured a bare room in the story... 'New Everything.' That was the first room I renovated when I moved to 225. What was new... was the paint and stain and the fresher odour after I was done in that room.

The second, outdoor project, was the gazebo, which you can see in the 2024 stories... 'Spending Time, Gardening.'

I cook in the kitchen, here at 225, but I wouldn't exactly call it 'El's Kitchen' in the way my Pinterest page suggests. At this time, we have decided not to renovate the kitchen... I still have dreams of moving back to Winnipeg.

This was Bruce, shining up his old Imperial at a car show we participated in. 

This is me... sitting in that old relic.

Since my move, one son has visited... the other two I'm still waiting for. They, and their families, are welcome where I live... anytime!

 

Keeping Up

Keeping up... 

There are eight children in my family, that I grew up with. I was born seventh. 

I actually wrote 'The Red Dust Healers' about my life experiences and renamed all eight of us for the novella. My brother John may remember when I was writing it because I visited him, before they built the house they are now in, and he invited my son, and I, to go for a drive because he had to visit a jobsite and pay an employee.

So, I was talking about the novella, I was writing, and I said, "I just haven't put the oldest brother into the novella yet because I'm having a lot of trouble with finding an alternative name for him." (The reason I called my oldest brother, his brother, in that moment, was because they had been business partners since they were in their 20's.)

"Well, John replied, "your novella isn't complete if we aren't all in it."

I felt reasonably chastised and after I returned home, to Winnipeg, I worked hard to find a alternative name for my oldest brother... I finally settled on a name and, if coincidence could yet be called prophecy to the more religiously informed... the name I used for my oldest brother was the middle name of my Bruce, who died. 

When choosing names, for my novel (published) or my novella, (unpublished, as yet), I tried to, somehow, match a name to how I saw them and perceived their strengths and weaknesses. 

The old- fashioned way of naming children, of my parents' generation, was to give us each only one name... that was Biblical. Have you ever noticed that everyone, in the Bible, only has one name?   

I had purchased a very old book, written in 1915, and the mother, in the fictional novel, had named the children with names she was hoping they would live up to. That novel inspired me to come up with names suitable to each personality. You see, the serendipitous maybe of naming a child, at birth, could be a book unto itself. We, parents, name our children for all kinds of reasons... mostly, to inspire a good life... if you're wise. 

A really strange thing started happening after I wrote my novella... nobody knew what I had written, or what names I chose for my family members. I tried to choose names of people whom I had never met. Strangely, in the next 16 years, I met or the news featured some names I had called my brothers and sisters.

You know when you do something, before it happens, it's a creative verve I was working within and nobody can foresee if that might, somehow, become meaningful. 

When I wrote my fictional novel, I put all the appropriate disclaimer on the second page...

"This is a work of fiction. Though some incidents are based on historical record, the work as a whole is the product of the author's imagination and inspiration." Copyright 2013

My novella was a creative writing project but my novel was, as quoted, above, a very difficult and long project... self- published.

The reason I have started writing, on my blog, about my family, is because notoriety has not always been something my parents, now in heaven, would have considered of humble character. Now that they have passed into eternity, I no longer feel the need to hide my talents or refrain from speaking out about the issues of life that really matter to me... human rights... in a world where our rights are so often violated.

Woah, "One Room Hell"

 Well, well, well, it's Friday. My husband got a call from a stranger and we can't yet verify if he was actually speaking to the person that the screen said was calling. We'll wait on that.

So, what I would like to talk about today is old age and bad decisions and a slight bit of possible dementia.

This story is about my Dad. My Mom was in a nursing home when this happened.

The first thing I would like to say about my Dad, is this... he was a highly intelligent man who had beliefs and concepts that were at times 'at war' with himself because he had, mainly, lived in small 'cloistered' communities where 'backwards and odd' behaviour is sometimes hidden and possibly approved of.

I believe the culprit of most of Dad's strange decisions, from his years of 90- 93, in age, came from his potato chips and cola diet. Unfortunately, he much preferred a yukky potato chip variety to a good homemade meal. 

About 7 years ago... I'm not totally sure of the year... I was single... Dad was alone... my children were all busy on Christmas Day. So, I guess Bruce was already dead... that could have, then been, 2022 Christmas. I made a entire meal of meat, potatoes, gravy... and brought it to Dad for us to share on Christmas Day. Dad was a very generous man so he didn't really like 'taking' without 'giving.' He went to the pantry and got his 'potato chips' and put them on the table along with the hot meal I had prepared. We prayed and the repast was enjoyed... "Don't you like these?" Dad said with a 'Help yourself' smile. I smiled, and said, "I like real potatoes and gravy and meat, like this," I put some on his plate.

The reason I tell this small story is that... Dad was much more able to think clearly when he ate good, nutritious food. I am a very strong believer... in many ways... in the area of food and the brain, I believe that food is the best medicine and the most important medicine. 

Now, fast-forward to the summer of 2023... Dad and Sara, thought it would be a great idea if I moved into Dad's house to help him, in particular, drive him around. That is, definitely, what Dad requested of me. 

So, my son and I got a bunch of my 'stuff' together,...

 after Restall and Restall law firm sent a letter to 3 Donegal Bay, telling me that I would be paid a paltry sum of $10,000.00 if I moved out of that house that Bruce and I shared. I had no intention of only getting that small amount of money because, when Bruce was alive, he said that half the house was mine... so, when he died, and I had invested in the property with sweat equity and almost $10,000.00 worth of bills I still have in photocopies... I assumed the entire house would be mine because I used my personal money to renovate the basement. The only reason I moved out of that address was because a very nasty man turned the water off, to 3 Donegal Bay, at the corner of London and Donegal. I saw him do it one day but I did not know who the man was.

I have never signed off on that estate and I have never received anything even though I did sent a copy of all my purchases to Restall and Restall, as Martin McKaughan, Bruce's brother, requested I do.

Now, back to my one day move to my Dad's house, 17 Chevy Drive. 

Most of my belongings had to go into a storage unit and what I brought with me, to Dad's, was supposed to be 'enough' to get me through the time I might have to serve there.

Well, things did not go very well when we started to unload my kitchen stuff and then... I was going to unload my gardening boxes but, woah, those went right back to Winnipeg when Dad said... "As soon as I die, you will have to get out of this house immediately so the family can divide the money from it."

I looked at Dad and said, "We'll take most of my stuff back to Winnipeg."

So, my son was there to 'follow my lead' because Mom and Dad didn't spend very much time with my children... dinners at 90 Forest Cove Drive... when I invited, especially for our personal celebrations of Thanksgiving.

So, that one day... I put my little black Baroque style upholstery button- tufted tub chair on the boulevard. The woman, across the street came to get it. Dad asked if I got money for it... I said no.

When my son was safely on his way back to Winnipeg with much of my stuff going back, Dad pointed to one drawer in his kitchen and said, "You can put your stuff here."

I looked at him to see if he was serious and it seemed he was so I didn't say too much but I wondered if he realized that I had been cooking for quite a few people in life and I brought all my kitchen stuff there, thinking that I would be cooking for him every day.

Things really did not go well when I said I would be getting the Internet while I was there. Dad, basically, said, 'when hell freezes over... nobody is ever putting that devil's tool into my house, 17 Chevy Drive."

So, I had a nap and then took my mattress and went back to Winnipeg before nightfall. I still had plenty to move back because I had brought quite a bit to 'be busy' while I was there.

By the Wednesday, Dad called to apologize by saying... "I just can't have things the way you live because I am old and I need things to be like I want them. I was so shocked at all the stuff you brought for the kitchen, I just couldn't imagine trying to change my lifestyle for how you were used to living."

I said, "That's okay, Dad. We don't have to live differently than each of us wants to. I will come get all the stuff I brought there and visit you like I have been doing."

So, to synopsize, I can't live in 'one room' in anybody's house as a grown woman, of just over sixty, who has raised three sons to adulthood, been divorced due to a very contrary difference of opinion with their father, as to how a person should live. I was not willing to cope with his alcoholism. The having my next 'husband' drop dead. Then being forced from my home. Then trying to help Dad. Then, finally, finding another place to live, not a happy one... and, in all this time... losing all my retirement money in terrible rentals.

So, this information is for those who haven't bothered to keep up with all the tragedies I have lived through.

     

Diabolical Game

 As part of the investigative team, trying to find evidence of who has been 'playing the game.' I am ashamed to say that there may have been so many people that I knew for a very short time, in my life, that have played this diabolical game that has caused so much heartache, I can't even describe, to you, the terrible ways the feuding families tried to 'one- upmanship' other families to prove that 'they' were more important in some insane way.

It was reported that... one uncle, of my sons, 'paid' for something so my son would be so severely beaten, and left for dead, that his son could 'win' something. Now, I ask you, why was my son Jordan beaten for his cousin Tim to win something? Apparently, Tim's father also fisted Scott in the face so that he may never be able to work again because old man Dueck has left his diabolical seed upon the earth in his sons... It was reported that old man Dueck reached across the table and belted Scott in the face because, in this game of 'pick and pay' Scott wanted a decent vehicle to drive. Now, as Scott has always earned enough money, certainly when I knew what was going on in his life, to pay for his Tacomas that he purchased, I am in shock to learn of this terrifying behaviour that old man Dueck is trying to cover up.

It appears the father of Tim is in a strange cult that administers justice with the old- fashioned method of fisting people in the face. Tim is welcome to contact me to admit the guilt of this 'event.'

It was reported that... every time someone 'paid' it was an admission of 'sin guilt' and there was a group who then beat the living hell out of someone for that.

So, someone put the word out that... "Don't pay!" Because, if you pay, someone gets a severe beating.

So, could we take a poll and find out 'who paid,' who didn't pay and who thinks someone should still pay and, most importantly...

We all want to know what people wanted to be paid for. 

Verify... we also want to know why people were being coerced to pay for people who were considered much too privileged to ever have to pay. Evidence of this would be... people living in what we call 'glass houses' or very costly houses were being sheltered while poor people were being extorted from.  

Please contact me to tell me your story so I can write another book.

 

If you want to be...

... in business... you're going to suffer. 

So, you want to be in business? You must like suffering. That is something an old fella I rented a 'retail space' from, said to me... 

many years ago when I was living at 90 Forest Cove and trying to get out of 'dead- end' jobs.

I'm trying to recall the 'end of year' 7 weeks that I rented this space... at the same time as the local politician rented the space in the same complex.

My photos for this little retail space are on an external hard- drive so I'll add those at a later date if need be. I purchased a little black Baroque style upholstery button- tufted tub chair. Then I purchased a sleek black firm seating chair with stainless steel 2 1/2 inch covers on the bottom of each chair leg. (I gave this chair to Scott and Tammy when they moved to Winterton).

 None of the items I purchased to set up this tiny little showroom, sold. 

My black and white striped drapery, that I made, were put up and I'll have to check my photos to see if the black and white desk, that I purchased from Salvation Army and then refinished for that swanky 60's look, was situated under the drapery. That little showroom, completely furbished by myself, was really quite adorable.

Now, what was not adorable was all the money I 'lost' doing this little business venture. All the capital was my own... thank the good Lord I didn't do anything foolish like borrow money for this.

So, the day came when I suffered the most traitorous $5 sale. A woman, who babysat in the Meadows West area, and whom I had listened to for reasons of being a 'unpaid counselor,' came into my little business. I still have the little receipt taped into a journal, as a reminder of what the cost is... of kindness. 

One of the pastors I listened to for a time taught me this lesson with a fake, dusty, chicken sitting in his office. I recall asking him why he had such an ugly, dusty fake chicken sitting in a pastoral office... Oh, he said, that's to remind me of a camp conference that I was invited to speak at and the pay for my services that weekend was this 'crafty' fake piece of garbage 'chicken.' 

So, my 'crappy craft' story is from the babysitter who came into my little 7 week shoppe with an old dusty wreath. She wanted it re- purposed so she could use it another year. She didn't bring in any supplies to refresh this dusty mess. It took me at least an hour and my own supplies to refresh this wreath and, when I was finished she offered to pay me $5. 

She was in a hurry to get back to her little house for the after- school babysitting children that she had been hired to care for... so, she left all the mess for me to clean up. 

When she left, I thought, I am never doing anything for her again. She had no concept as to the expenses of a 'retail business' to set up and operate. I have never put up a shoppe like that again and, unless I had guaranteed real customers, I will not.

P.S. I am waiting for my children to come for a visit... much more important to spend time that way. 

God is Good was born

 When my grandson was born to my oldest son, Scott, there was such hope and promise of the meaning of his name... 'God is good.' 

I thought I caught a glimpse of him, at Christmastime, in 2024. I'm not sure if Scott's hearing was already impaired at that time.

I have this fond memory of him walking down Winterton, with Scott following him...

that was before I had that Hummer H3 crash... I was still driving that vehicle at the time.

More importantly, 

Way more importantly,... 

'God is good' was toddling and walking the way a child of two- ish does... happy, curly hair bobbing to his determined and strong gait.

We are certainly happy that 'God is good was born' into the Guenter Dueck family. It is such a faith boon for all of us... 103 family members celebrate him every day. I certainly hope he is safe with Scott and Tammy.