My Friend…My Enemy


My Frienemy

We went through school together. We had different careers but they were both in the construction field. My area of expertise was painting and paperhanging, Jesse’s, was plumbing and with that he displayed a groundless air of superiority.  Early one morning, I received a phone call from, Nikki, a nickname for, Nicole, and sometimes I affectionately called her, Pais. She said she had nowhere to go, that she had just been wandering in Red Wing the nightlong. Nikki is my oldest daughter, from my first marriage.

Now was not the time for lectures or yelling, I told myself, this was a time for caring and support and of giving her hope for a brighter tomorrow. This is a time for building her up. Neither, Nikki, nor my younger daughter, Sabrina, had contact with me since my release from the nursing home (I spent a year in hospitals and nursing homes and finally a rehabilitation center for head injured people) I asked if she had spoken with her mom about helping her?  

The words Nicole heard from her mother were, “When are you going to fuckin’ grow up, call your dad!” She knew Mom would not help.

My only reason for asking if she talked to her mom was because Nicole’s mother had – recently – received an inheritance from the death of her father. Then, the ex took everything from me after I signed a paper in the hospital giving her guardianship; she ruined my credit as well as nearly ruining me and I was not able to work to better my financial position. Obviously, her mom was in a much better state to help Nikki than I was.

Besides, Nancy blocked me from seeing the children once I got out of the hospital; their adolescent years were devoid of hardly any contact between us…until now.

Nancy’s unkind words left Nicole outside and alone in a strange city, strange in that she did not grow-up there, she was living with her boyfriend only, or so I had interpreted, he had relatives in that town.

But I quickly flashed back to my stay at the Ebenezer Nursing Home (the old Anchor Hospital in Minneapolis) when I had to phone my parents and let Mom and Dad know that Nancy wouldn’t allow me back home and that the insurance had run out.

“If I don’t have anywhere to go by Monday the nursing home is going to put me in a state hospital. Will you let me move in with you for awhile, until I am better,” I asked?

There were no questions from them, nor a moment of hesitation; they never flinched or thought about it, “Of course you can, Steve. When can we pick you up?”   They sounded happy to have me back.

Now I ask you, could I do anything less for my daughter? The plans were quickly made and I was in Red Wing an hour later. Excited? Sure I was, it had been years since seeing either of my kids. I also had a feeling of sadness for her situation, but maybe I would at last, be able to help.

Nicole was at the exact place she said she would be when she called. I saw her waiting calmly inside the doorway of the St. James Hotel and she saw me park the car out front. She opened the door and stepped inside. Nikki was quiet and apologetic, very apologetic; for not seeing me in so long, but I assured her that I knew it was not her fault.

I told her of my attempts to attend her graduation, but your mom wouldn’t answer my phone calls so I left messages, even though I’m embarrassed of the way I sound, on her answering machine…she never returned the calls.

“You sound good Dad; Mom doesn’t know what she’s talking about and I even think she went a little crazy without you. She didn’t know how to deal with things. You took care of everything Dad and we knew where we stood with you. You gave us boundaries and we knew better than to cross them; Mom never disciplined Sabrina or myself. Mom let us do whatever we wanted. She wanted to be our friend instead of our Mom. Sabrina and I missed your limits and knowing who was in charge,” Nicole said.

“And now you’re a lady who has graduated from high school…” 

I was shocked by Nikki’s reply, “Dad, I never graduated. I got in a bunch of trouble at school and the guidance counselor tried getting me to stay, but it was too late. My life had no direction anymore and I just didn’t care about anything, which was kind of bad because Sabrina copied many of my mistakes, but at least she is going to graduate next year. I’m making sure of that Dad.”

“Well good for her! I’m sorry that you didn’t. You know, I made phone calls to your mom wanting to know the date, time, and place for your graduation ceremonies, but she never picked up. Next, I left messages on her machine, even though, I’m ashamed of my voice and again, she never called back. Finally, I wrote letters but never got a reply, at least, we’re together now,” I said with joy.

Nicole needed to go back to their duplex to get some clothes and I said, “Fine, get what you need.”

“Sabrina would like to see you Dad,” she surprisingly said, but I want you to wait outside, I’ll only be a few minutes and besides…

“Sabrina lives here too, I asked? Wow – what has it been five years since I’ve seen you guys? Are you sure you don’t want me to come up?”

“There’s a lot of stairs, Dad, and I want to get this stuff before her boyfriend gets off work. I just want to avoid all contact with him. I’ll tell Sabrina you’re down here waiting in your car and by the way – Nice car!”  

My ’88 Camaro

 

And so I parked alongside of the house, at their entrance, she got out and I waited, something I’d become real good at. I was surprised because I had no idea Sabrina was living with them, or that it was Sabrina’s boyfriend.

In a few more minutes’ time, Sabrina appeared and she hopped in the car to give me a big hug. She looked so happy and I hoped the reason was due to seeing me again, at least partly, maybe just a little? I tried to convince Sabrina to leave with me and her older sis but was worried about seeming too wanting and so I backed off.

Nikki came down; I gave her the keys and she tossed the two trash bags filled with clothes into the trunk.   We all gathered outside of the car for a family hug, just like the old days, and then we were off…just Nikki and I.

The ex would not allow me to see our kids for years but now when our girl needs help I am the one Nicole thought of and I was glad for that, it made me feel good and felt wonderful to be needed again.

Our trip back to my apartment was mostly quiet; I think because we had forgotten how to talk to each other. She was thirteen years old when the accident happened, Sabrina just a year younger. Now, in a couple of months they will be eighteen and seventeen.

We pulled into the garage on Beebe Rd. and unloaded the Camaro. We carried the things up to the unit and I turned the stereo CD player on and up so that it was more than aural wallpaper playing in the background, which was how I played it when writing.

If I only knew years ago, what I now know, I could have shown the sheriff my divorce papers that gave me joint custody (and that was all) and gotten him/her the to issue an order allowing me to see the kids, ehh who am I kidding, I wouldn’t have done that anyway. I would not have embarrassed my kids by showing up at their door with a sheriff, crippled and with a new voice, no; I wouldn’t have done that.

But I was in a fragile state, much more so, than I am as I write these words of my daughter’s circumstances. I’ve had seven years of healing and now, it is my daughter’s needful situation that merits attention.

I am in the midst of making a comeback financially, thanks to American Express Financial Services. I say that, but most will laugh at my miniscule amounts. However, the income that was created proved substantial when compared to my poor beginnings. And it was all due to one lady analyst who took my five hundred dollars in savings and my signature for a hundred dollar a month automatic withdrawal. Within a short amount of time she had me at ten-fold my investment…five thousand dollars.

And she had me diversified in my tiny holdings with a certain amount going into utilities, another amount into mutual funds, and lastly, high risk stocks. Things were going well and I felt I was going to be okay, but my kids come way ahead of finances. My life will once again be on hold.

Noting my hopelessness (another flashback) from being without my children, a speech therapist while in a group session gave me the nickname – “Loving father.” Others, including my mother, told me to try, just try to put your girl’s out of mind. 

“What else can you do, you’re making yourself miserable, Sly” (short for Sylvester). Mom ‘s comforting voice softly spoke those words to me while she gently rubbed my hands. “Your dad and I miss them terribly too but there’s nothing you can do, nothing we can do, they are our oldest grandchildren you know. We miss them as much as you do…” Her eyes got puffy and red as she squeezed my hands harder; she got up from the table and headed for the bathroom.

Nicole and I sat in the living room of the apartment listening to the bluesy sounds of Billie Holiday and discussing our sleeping situation. I told her that I would sleep on the hide-a-bed in the living room, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

“No Dad, you sleep in your bed and I’ll sleep here,” she said while slapping the couch cushion. 

Well, it didn’t take much to convince me because I recall sleeping on one of those lumpy mattresses years before, probably nineteen years ago.   I purchased the roll out bed for just such an occasion and had hoped for the day it would be used. She helped me put fresh sheets over the loose fitting mattress pad. 

I showed her how the television and remote worked and the stereo. We watched a movie as we shared a bag of, Pop Secret Light, popcorn. That flavor had just the right amount of butter for me. Movie, or extra butter popcorn were too rich for my finicky taste. I can’t drink a can of regular pop without first diluting it with water because otherwise they were undrinkable, too thick for my more delicate swallow.

The very next day we went over to see Mom and Dad, Niki’s grandma and grandpa. Though Nikki was really worried about seeing them again because (as she confided in me) “Mom told us over and over how they didn’t love us and didn’t want to see us. But then, she told us the same about you and I see now that was a big lie!” 

“Of course they were lies Nicole. Don’t you remember when you were a little kid, I think you were about four, and we walked over to grandma’s home from our house in all of that snow? We had the dog, Max, with us and when it got too deep for you, I put you on my shoulders. And don’t you remember when we had your birthday parties at Grandma’s? We all love you kids very much and I tried seeing you guys many times.”

We drove the long way over there, around Lake Phalen twice, until Nikki was more comfortable meeting her estranged grandparents’ once again. Of course the smiles from everybody were infectious and Mom and Nicole sat at the kitchen table and began talking as if their close relationship had not even skipped a beat; they continued on as if nothing were different. They were both just so happy…Dad and I got comfortable in the living room and watched Phil Mickelson sink another birdie, on the television. 

Nicole got a job within a week at a local Total Gas and quick food stop, as a cashier. The pay was fine for a young girl – not planning on making that her career. She was out in the public meeting people, learning new work habits and the job provided her spending money and perhaps some to save. It didn’t provide enough for her rent, so I didn’t charge her and besides, she was my daughter so as long as I could pay the bills on time, there would not be any charge

Well a couple of months passed and as I drove to see her at her job I passed by an old school friend’s home who lived on the crossing street…he waved me over so I pulled up to where his yard met the street. He seemed happy to see me, and he asked me in.

I was not in any sort of hurry so I parked the car and in the meantime his phone rang so he said, “I gotta’ get the phone, Sylvester, so when you’re ready just come in the house,” and he hurriedly ran inside.

I grabbed my cane and walked through his back door, just as I had so many times when I was a kid. The kitchen was the same as I remembered; the same birch cupboards and grey and yellow plastic tiled wainscot reaching three-fourths of the way to the ceiling. It sure enough wasn’t stylish any longer, I don’t recall high wainscoting to ever be stylish, but he was evidently happy with it.

Jesse hung up the phone in a few minutes and we went into his living room and took a seat; the reminiscing began, but not too much.

I said, “I always remember this place because of the, Doors, and the landing on the moon.”

I recall the Doors playing on the phonograph and their sound being clearly heard downstairs from your bedroom up. “Break on Through” (to the other side,) was the song we were listening to when, Jean, Jesse’s mother called us down to watch the happening. 

My dad always watched with earnest whenever there was news of space travel. He beamed with pride knowing that it was his generation that went from the horse and buggy – all the way to the moon…

Knowing that people my age were out there working I asked, “Are you on vacation Jesse?”

“Kind of,” he replied.

But thinking back he never told me what he meant by, “Kind of,” I let it go. I was to discover the reason after years of Nicole’s mistreatment. The fault or blame also lies with my daughter because she went back to him after divorcing the scoundrel once. And of course the initial fault lies with me for mentioning Jesse’s room for rent. Let me try to explain what happened…

I paid a few more visits to Jesse’s and he was always home and had a music collection larger than any I’d ever seen. They weren’t all CD’s but many vinyl albums as well; we didn’t listen to those but he showed them to me.  He copied many CD’s for me always in a lax atmosphere; I enjoyed those times. Jesse never drank, though, made many trips out to the garage to smoke weed because there were some things the ex-hippy could not let go of and the laid back feeling was definitely one of them. He invited me out there numerous times, but because of my lungs (one collapsed and one punctured from the car wreck years before) I could not inhale an easy going feeling.

Then he invited me to a performance of, John Hammond, at the Fine Line Music Café in Minneapolis and it was a wonderful night out

John Hammond still singing' the Blues after all these years...
John Hammond still singin’ and feelin’ the Blues after all these years…

with fantastic foot-stompin’ Blues music; John Hammond loudly keeps time to his music that way. We both drank tonic water and lime, no alcohol. I was impressed that he enjoyed the evening without imbibing. Finally, there was another in the world who did not drink alcohol but who enjoyed getting out and having a great time without knocking a few back first.

 Jesse is a lover of all music genres with a defining interest on Folk (Bob Dylan his favorite) and Blues dating back to the turn

"Lead Belly" and his 12 string.
“Lead Belly” and his 12 string.

of the twentieth century. His collection includes works by Huddie William Ledbetter, (Lead Belly) January 20, 1888 – December 6, 1949 – who was an American folk and blues musician and multi-instrumentalist, notable for his strong vocals, virtuosity on the twelve-string guitar, and the songbook of folk standards he introduced.

When I remarked about his knowledge of music (who played what, when and where) he would always say, “I blame it on my childhood, Sly.”

 Looking back, I could understand that. I was lucky enough to have a Dad who was self-employed and who, on occasion, would also employ me so that I always had money in my pocket as a kid. His dad used to take every dime he made to help support their large family of fifteen children.

Poor Jesse had an alcoholic father, divorced from his mom but whom I would see at their home quite often and always drunk, so drunk at times that he peed his pants, his daughter said.

I helped Jesse deliver papers one afternoon and his dad came slowly driving up behind us and began name calling at me immediately, “Why don’t you go home, WOP, and let him do his job, okay dago?”

Well, Dad always taught me to never let anybody call me a wop, so I smarted off to his dad and called him a Polack which I didn’t know for sure at the time, but so what if he was, the name calling seemed apropos to the situation at hand. Jesse’s dad was of course, drunk again.

The first time ever seeing Jesse drink sickened me. We were at Bunkers in Minneapolis. The venue had many university students and a younger crowd in general, hanging out. The night began innocently enough with Jesse ordering a beer for each of us.

We sat at the bar and he told me of almost having his basement done (remodeled) and that then he would be renting it out, “So if you know anyone or you can just pass the info along; I still have to…”

Well as Nicole was always talking about getting out on her own, and all the gains I had made with American Express were gone. Once again, I had nothing. I thought, with my slow processing mind, that this would be a good opportunity for her.

“How much are you asking?”

“Two hundred and fifty bucks a month,” he said.

“Take fifty off and maybe my daughter will rent it, she’ll have to see it first.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, “And she wouldn’t have to go to a Laundromat, she can use the new washer and dryer down there.”

“And she works just down the street,” I said, “So she could walk and save some money, maybe. I’ll tell her about it Jesse.”

That being said, he stood up, asked if I wanted another beer and ordered two thirty-two ounce Foster’s for himself. Jesse drank those right down before I finished my twelve-ounce bottle of Michelob and asked if I wanted another?

“Sure,” I said, “But it will have to be my last, I’m driving you know.”

He ordered another Mich and two more large barrels of Foster’s and put those down as quickly as he did the others…Jesse had become his dad!

I got up on the dance floor, though, there wasn’t room to dance and there was just barely room to breathe, bouncing off others, I made my way back to the bar and sat down…safe at last, (my entire right-side is partially paralyzed). It had been many years since going to a rowdy place like that where the kids were worked into frenzy.

In the meantime, Nikki had walked up to see Jesse’s place after work on one of his sober days when he was just as quiet, sincere and laidback as could be.

She told me that she liked it for the convenience, “It’s only two blocks from Total so I don’t need a car and it has a washer and dryer. I know it’s not much but the bed is separated from the rest of the basement and is my own bedroom. It will be good until I can afford something better.”

So I told her of Jesse’s past as a hippy and that he still smoked weed. “You know, when I met him after so many years he never drank. Even when we went to The Fine Line he only drank tonic and orange.  I don’t know what happened, but the last few times we went out he drank enough to sink a ship, and he’s a sloppy drunk, just like his dad was, so I’m skeptical about you living there you can sta…” She cut me off in mid sentence.

“Aww dad, I can handle it, and besides I work most of the time so it will just be a place for me to sleep and do my laundry. It’s not far from your apartment so I will be going over to see you a lot.”

Well I could not argue with such logic, “Okay Nicole, but remember that I’m just up the road a ways so if you ever need anything, call me, or stop over”

Like me she was impulsive, and had moved to the basement habitat within a week. My visits there were daily at first, until I sensed that they were not entirely welcome; I cut back to once week. It was cute watching her make it on her own, though her visits to my place were nil.

One day in 1994 I believe, Nicole’s sister Sabrina moved in with her. Jesse told me the news as I drove us to Northrup Auditorium on the U of M campus. I thought he was back to his non-drinking ways, however; once we were seated in the crowded concert hall out of his sleeve appeared a bottle of Gin or Vodka. He offered me a nip off the bottle, but I was much too embarrassed as the people behind him disdainfully observed what was going on. Besides, I can’t drink alcohol straight.   Number one reason is because I don’t want to and the number two reason is because after the brain injury I’m not supposed to. Even a mixed drink makes my brain crackle and sizzle, and I cannot stand the strong taste; it makes me gag.

The same thing began to happen every time we went somewhere; it had become automatic, Jesse bought the tickets, and I provided the ride. After the concert (I can’t remember who was playing) and as I drove I began asking how things were working out with my daughter.

“Aww she’s a sweetheart, Sly, a real sweetheart.”

I knew that. But as the weeks passed I began to get unwanted vibes from everyone.

I openly spoke of the situation with others but was told to relax, “You’re worrying about nothing.”

Jesse always treated me well just as the girls’ did, but still I couldn’t help feeling like I was an intruder. Everybody was always all smiles and fronting a nice attitude. Never was there a problem of any kind…it was too perfect.

When Nicole was asked about my weekly visits she simply told me, “Dad, don’t worry about it. We enjoy having you here, so come over as often as you like, okay?”

Nikki was being naïve and I was yearning for my daughter’

Next thing I knew, Jesse was over at my apartment asking for my blessing to their marriage — well what would you do?

Jesse would have married Nicole anyway he said. “She’s pregnant with our child and I want you to be a big part of the kid’s life.” Never was a bigger piece of candy put before someone, and yet, never a more obvious lie, for he never let me take him anywhere. “With or without your blessing I’m going to marry her.”

Me, daughter, Nicole, and my friend and new son-in-law  Jesse
Myself, daughter, Nicole, and Jesse on her wedding day.

My school chum had become my son-in-law. He married my daughter, not at a church with guests wearing nice clothes, but at the county courthouse with nobody in attendance except for my other daughter, Sabrina’s girlfriend, and me; I was Best Man at their unceremonious wedding and the only one to dress for the blessed occasion, minus a tie. I hoped I was dressed okay. My hands just wouldn’t cooperate in attaching the clip on.  

Jesse dressed in jeans and t-shirt and had my daughter dress the same because he didn’t like anything that hinted at extravagance. She wore a t-shirt that was obviously one of his because it was so huge on her. Nicole wore shorts for the bottom and did not wear any make-up. I wanted to ask them both when they were going to get dressed for the occasion.   I didn’t know if I was being too rigid, though, and wondered – ‘has dressing for a wedding changed so dramatically? I couldn’t believe that it had, but maybe? After all, I was the only one to at least make an effort and I was afraid that I might be underdressed.

Jesse is a know-it-all even though he remains naïve on matters of the heart, either that, or he just doesn’t care. From their wedding day forward, Nicole wore his t-shirts and her lack of style bothered me a lot. I wanted to say something but it was their marriage…I had no right, did I?

For nearly twenty years she remained with him even after he nearly killed her and spread many falsehoods and untruths about her so that she had no friends except for those she made prior to meeting her devastation, Jesse.

Nikki tried to get him to stop his drinking and his smoking of weed but instead he turned her into his drinking buddy. Through it all, Nicole, learned from him to think she was a terrible person and to put herself down. She had been clothed in insignificance. Jesse meanwhile, turned his entire family against her with his unconscionable lies. He nearly always looks like the good guy, in part, because he buys friendships with his dope connections and giveaways. But honestly, who would want those types of friends, except a person like them.

Up until a few years ago, I phoned there occasionally, not too often because there was never a returned call to me.

On a number of occasions when I called Jesse would tell me, “This is not a good time to come over, Sly,” and I respected their privacy.

After hearing that so many times though I decided to go over and check things out; I did call him first and told him that I would be there in about twenty minutes. Soon I was there knocking on their backdoor and Jesse quietly answered. I followed him through the kitchen to his tray of food in the living room where Nikki lay on the couch.

“Ewwww Nikki — what happened?” I asked as I glared over at Jesse feeding his face. Nodding in Jesse’s direction I asked, “Did he do this to you?”

“I knew that’s what you’d think. That’s why I didn’t ask you over, tell him what happened Nikki.”

“I fell down the stairs Dad.”

“I’m not that stupid Nikki…I’ve fallen many times and never had a lump like that on my forehead! Oh my God, Nikki, it’s the size of a goose egg! That didn’t come from any fall – did he push you down the stairs again? I know he did that to you before!   You go out to my car! I’m taking you to the hospital!”

“No Dad, I’ll be all right besides it takes so long at the hospital we’d be waiting and waiting and then when they finally did see me they’d just put a band aid on it and send me home after charging me a few hundred dollars.”

“Did he tell you that? Come on I’ll take you to St. John’s, the wait won’t be that long,” (and I noticed Jesse looking in our direction… “You sonofabitch,” I said.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe that she fell, but that’s what happened Sly. Do you need more ice, Nicole,” Jesse asked?

“Nikki, come with me and we’ll just have a doctor look at it, okay?” She would not go.

I couldn’t bear to look at her lying there in such obvious pain and her husband feeding his fat face! I left but felt terrible, and my youngest daughter saw it too. We got out to the car and I dialed 911.

When the officer on duty answered I did my best to explain the situation to her.   I was glad that I was speaking with a female because she understood more of what I was talking about, I’m sure.

“What do you think I should do? Should I make her go with me? Should I have the cops out here to arrest him? What should I do, I am brain injured and I know that Nikki needs help but I can’t think of what to do…”

The Police lady at the other end said, “You were right to call us. Even though you and I know what happened that the size lump you explained couldn’t have come from a fall and the reason she doesn’t want to go to the hospital is because the doctors would be able to tell that he was beating her. Unless you are absolutely sure that she will follow through with the arrest warrant, I wouldn’t report it because things will only get worse for her, we’ve had a few trips to that address.  We’ll keep an eye on the place.”

I knew without a doubt that Nikki would not sign the papers because she always thinks everything is her fault. She had stated to me on numerous occasions that she would not do to her husband what her mom did to me.   I told her that the situations were totally different but she could never understand that!

“Jesse is assaulting you! I never hit or abused your mom in any way. She divorced me because I was not able to support her any longer, she considered me an invalid.”

“Yeah when I was a kid I wanted a marriage like yours and Mom’s. You two were so in love, always together joking around, grabbing, touching, and kissing. You showed us what a marriage should be like.”

“That’s right, so why are you in an abusive marriage? Why do you put up with it? Where is your self-respect? Your mom divorced me in part because I couldn’t work and because my walking and talking were kind of funny looking and sounding. I had nothing good to offer her. You and your sister had nothing to do with our breakup, so don’t ever feel that you need to act a certain way or do certain things. What you need is to get out of your marriage to Jesse…”

“Dad, umm, he divorced me. “

“Then what in the hell are you doing still living here?”

“He took everything from me Dad. He had me use his attorney and left me with nothing. I don’t care though…I’ve got a plan.”

“Nikki, you had a plan ever since you went back to him and you’ve endured life under his controlling thumb ever since. You stayed with him that first time because of Elliot, remember? Well now, Elliot has graduated and is mostly on his own except when Jesse smokes and drinks with him.   You’ve got nothing Nikki so why don’t you just get in my car right now and we’ll leave. You can begin your life without that prick. When are you going to wake up?

He has done nothing for you during the years you were together – but he has done plenty to you! He took away your youth and had you dress like a bag lady, he never took you anyplace nice and now look…you’re forty years old with no where to go, nothing of your own…don’t degrade yourself any more. It is embarrassing to me! If you don’t care about yourself at least please stop doing this for me! You don’t need anything that he’s got – come on get in the car now and you can live with your sister, Natalie, and I. You can share her bed and bedroom and I am a decent chef so come-on, just leave, now. Don’t you recall my mentioning to you in, 2007 I believe it was, about how he was controlling and watching everything said on your Facebook page? And how he was monitoring your phone calls and you replied saying, he’s not Dad, they’re safe.”

“Well I knew better than that but I let it slide because I thought things would maybe work out for you two. Boy was I ever wrong! Do you recall my telling you that I saw Jesse and my ex, Missy, at a Stillwater ice cream place near her home? Innocent you mentioned it to him and Jesse denied it so you believed him.

Then remember my telling you about Missy being at my place and copying all passwords off my computer – She had just broughtcNatalie home and put her down for a nap while reading to her. I assumed Missy fell asleep doing that until I went up to check on them.   Missy was at my computer, pencil and paper in hand. I asked what she was doing and she told me she forgot to get the addresses of some of the businesses’ she owed money to, ugh my mind. I forgot how she had deleted all incriminating evidence of her texts on my cell phone earlier that same day! I believed her and so she came downstairs about fifteen minutes later and began systematically rifling through all of my cupboards; I finally had to tell her to stop!  Do not be trusting and foolish like I was.  Get out now. You have a place to live with me or your Aunt Linda, please, just leave, you don’t need anything he can offer.”

You know what happened to me so there is no need to rehash that just let me say that I know who was behind it…it was a certain coward. And that coward uses your Facebook page to say things to others using your name, then, has his computer savvy friend sabotage unsuspecting people and I was one of them.

I had told the police and had them out to my residence trying to explain to them what was going on, but nothing could be done because money had not been taken…just my sanity. When I went to confront the person, I was arrested and charged with burglary; not because I’d taken anything but because I stepped over their threshold without being invited in, even though that person was standing right there.  And now the same thing is happening all over again, but this time I will remain more cool so I will not be the one arrested for somebody else’s  misdeeds.

He pretends to be the friend of everybody while turning the knife in their back a little more each time until…BOOM, you explode! Those are a coward’s ways and he is using your F/B page so get out of there, out of his controlling reach.

I assumed that Jesse was a good guy; after all, he was at home on his days from work and didn’t seem to drink. Jesse had a good job (even though he seemed somewhat lazy with regards to work) never with a certain employer but with many different ones out of the union hall line.

I discovered years after the fact that the reason for Jesse being home was because he was under house arrest – for what else, driving while intoxicated!

Nicole, I hope you see this before he does because I don’t know how to get in touch with you and he may sabotage this page.

 

Until next time…

 

 

 

Steve Richie

Hi folks, Two lives in one lifetime. The first me, lived to age thirty-four. That Steve was overly confident and oozing with pride. Then, on a record heat-setting day (107º) here in the Twin Cities area of Minnesota and western Wisconsin, a one car near-fatal wreck left me in a two-month long coma. I emerged much as I was before minus certain physical capabilities, but my mind seemed mostly in tact. The crash and its effects did not change me (I emerged a happy individual) but the deeds perpetrated against me in the ensuing months from my wife of sixteen years scared and humbled me as I was dragged down with nothing left by my wife who now had guardianship over all of our accounts. And neither would she allow me to see our kids. She took everything out of, "Our" names and changed them to her name only; then would not allow me to our home and divorced me. I was angry, but no more. I spent half of 1988 and more than half of 1989 in hospitals, nursing homes and a three month stint at a head-injury rehab center where I was being taught how to re-enter society as this different person, that I didn't know. I was not able to return to my previous line of work, a self-employed decorator, you know, painting and paperhanging. It was a physical job which required much dexterity, finesse, and a good grasp of numbers. I returned to the beginning, school, but on a community college level. One of the instructor's liked my writing and I began focusing my attention on that. I attended classes at, "The Loft," A Place for Writers in Minneapolis. While there, a classmate of mine was having her friend from New York, a CBS executive, to her home for the holidays and asked me if she could do a critique on a couple chapters of a book I was writing, "A Day I'll Never Remember" and I obliged. When she returned to class the following Monday she told me that the exec wanted a ten-page synopsis of the book for a possible movie; I was excited. After obliging for that also, I never saw or heard from her or the guy from CBS. Next thing I knew I was watching a movie called, "Regarding Henry" starring Harrison Ford and the scenes of therapy were exactly like what I went through and had written about. Regarding Henry - could've been my story except that, "Henry" got his head injury from a gunshot and his wife stayed with him throughout the ordeal. Coincidence I'm sure, though, the therapy scenes entailed what I described in the book so I always wondered..... My hope, my dream is to bolster our income for my daughter and for myself. I am and have been raising this beautiful, talented little girl who was diagnosed with autism at age two, since 2006 singlehandedly. I divorced her mother the same year following complaints that I spent too much time with our daughter. However, Stephanie began school with no need for special education. She has been reading since age four and understanding what she'd read. Stephanie maintains straight "A's" on her report card, has published two books (through school) and has been selected as an, "Honors" student for seventh grade English. My ex moved to New York to be closer to her sister and has been remarried now for a number of years. Well, that's only a snippet of my sixty-one years and I would like to thank you for reading, thank you.

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