Sylvia's Song

You couldn't fight,
You couldn't run away,
You couldn't get help until it was too late.

I don't understand how they did this to you,
I hate it that it's true.
Your face so bright, your soul so pure,
Yet all that pain you never should endure.

You were just a child,
Innocent and mild,
But nobody saved you and so you died.

I don't understand and it doesn't matter why,
Makes me want to cry.
I guess you believed that people were good,
That they would change the way they should.

I'm so damn sorry this happened to you,
Your life stolen when you were young and new,
Maybe you were too sweet for a world so cruel.

We'll never know the answers,
There is no reason why,
But now you are free like a bird in the sky.

Cruelty has no reasons,
And time keeps moving with each season,
But we'll never forget you, your beautiful face,
I know God holds you within His embrace.

(In memory of Sylvia Liken's who's life was taken far too early)

The Murder of Sylvia Likens

Lately I have been feeling haunted by the 1965 torture and murder of Sylvia Likens over a period of a few months while she was living along with her younger sister Jenny who had had polio as an infant and wore a leg brace, in the home of Gertrude Baniszewski.  Sylvia's father, Lester Likens paid this woman $20 a week to take care of his daughters so that he and their mother Betty could work the carnival circuit.  This woman had seven children and was a single mother.  Sylvia was sixteen years old and Jenny fifteen.  Their mother had gone to jail for shoplifting and their father had come looking for them.  They had befriended Gertrude's daughter Paula age seventeen through another teenage girl, and had spent the night at the Baniszewski home.  Lester had never met this woman before this day, and yet he entrusted her with the care of his daughters.

It was considered the worst crime in the history of Indiana.  It happened in Indianapolis.  It happened on 3850 E. New York Street in a poor neighborhood.  I will not tell the whole story.  There are books and movies as well as numerous blogs, videos, poems, tributes, etc. on the internet and so forth.  I just cannot get it out of my mind.  Eventually this house that Gertrude Baniszewski rented for $50 a month was torn down due to annoying spectators and replaced by a church parking lot where there is a memorial to Sylvia Likens.

The thing that haunts me most is that Sylvia Likens was not only tortured and beaten, burned with cigarettes, starved, branded and kept in a filthy basement by the so called adult in the home, Gertrude but by her teenage children, mostly Paula and John as well as some neighborhood boys.  No one ever helped Sylvia.  Her sister was threatened by Gertrude and afraid to tell anyone.  Their older sister, Diana who lived in Indianapolis as well, called Social Services but when a social worker came to the house, they were satisfied with the lie they were told that Sylvia had run away.  So the case was closed.  Their parents had come to visit, but Sylvia and Jenny had been threatened and subdued into silence.  A kid told his parents, but Gertrude always had a lying explanation for everything.  Adult neighbors even saw Sylvia with blackened eyes being abused by Paula, Gertrude's teenage daughter, and did nothing.

How could a community do nothing?  Why didn't Jenny try harder to get help for her sister before it was too late?  Why did all these neighborhood teenagers go along with beating, burning and branding Sylvia?   She was kept in a dark, filthy basement, starved, beaten, kicked, and not allowed to use a bathroom.  'I AM A PROSTITUTE AND PROUD OF IT' was carved on Sylvia's stomach with a hot needle.  Fifteen year old Richard Hobbs  did this after Gertrude became too tired to complete it.  He was found guilty of manslaughter and was sentenced along with Gertrude, Paula, and John Baniszewski and Coy Hubbard.

On October 26th, 1965, Sylvia died from her injuries from the abuse that had occurred over the last few months.  The police were called by Richard Hobbs as Gertrude told him to, but Gertrude had made Sylvia write a note saying that she had gone off with some boys who did this to her.  However, Jenny whispered to one of the police, "get me out of here and I'll tell you everything."  Gertrude and her two older children as well as Richard Hobbs and Coy Hubbard were arrested.  Gertrude's daughter Stephanie turned state's evidence against her family in exchange for immunity.  The younger children including an infant were then put into foster care.

According to the autopsy, Sylvia died of systemic shock from these letters being burned into her skin, head trauma and starvation.  She had over one-hundred burns on her skin.  Her lips were barely attached just by some connective tissue.  Her vagina and throat were swollen shut.  Still, the autopsy showed that her hymen was intact.  Still there was severe trauma from being kicked in the genitals.  There are pictures of her body lying on a dirty mattress with her body covered in sores.  She had been sleeping on the basement floor with no bed and much of the time no clothing.  It is chilling the condition this beautiful sixteen year old girl was in at her death.

It was compared to Nazi holocaust victims, the cruel and unusual torture that Sylvia endured by these people if you want to call them that.  In the end, Gertrude was found guilty of first degree murder.  She and Paula who also beat Sylvia often and severely, both received life sentences, although Gertrude was paroled in 1985 and Paula in 1972.  There were protesters about Gertrude's parole, but it went through none the less.  She died five years later of lung cancer.  She was a heavy smoker.  The three teenage boys were tried as minors but they were sentenced for up to twenty-one years, although they did not serve that much time.  None of them seemed to have any remorse.  Richard Hobbs also died of lung cancer at the age of twenty-one.

I read the transcripts of Lester Likens being questioned on the witness stand, because I wanted to know what he was thinking when he and his wife Betty found out that Sylvia was dead.  He did not even know Gertrude and left his daughters in her care.  I did not get much insight from reading it.  I am sure he and Betty were devastated.  She divorced him in 1967 and remarried.  They were carnival workers and moved around a lot.  They had just gotten back together after a marital separation, and this was why he hired Gertrude to keep his daughters.  People speculate about why he did not look around the house and see what the sleeping conditions were or the fact that they had no stove and only one spoon, but he did not.  After the trial Jenny Likens went to live with the prosecutor and his family.

My frustration is how Sylvia did not try sooner to escape.  She did try near the end, but was caught by Gertrude.  This is considered one of the most sadistic crimes ever.  I was only four years old in 1965, but I know that people were not as enlightened about child abuse as they are today.  I wish still that this could be undone, that this girl had not suffered so, and that she could have gotten away or gotten help in time.  We will probably never understand this.  Some say that jealousy was a motivating factor.  Sylvia was a small, thin, pretty girl with shoulder length wavy brown hair and bangs.  There are numerous pictures of her as well as the crime scene photos on the internet.  She liked roller skating and dancing.  Her favorite band was The Beatles and she liked singing along to their records.  She also liked going to church and owned a bible.

I would like to add that there were attempts by the minister from church and the school to inquire on Sylvia's behalf, but again Gertrude would just lie and say she ran off or was sent to juvenile and there was no further inquiry.  Unfortunately, all efforts to inquire failed and were sadly not looked into.

The Truth About the Otts' Home at Meher Center

I decided it was time I wrote on my blog.  It has been a while since I have.  I want to clarify a misunderstanding which bothers me when I come across it.

I have serenity about most things, but I am frustrated when I find that some people (Meher Baba people) think that my parents were given their house or something.  That is untrue.  They purchased their land from Elizabeth Chapin Patterson and built their house.  They had and have a deed.  It was no free ride for them.  They built the road that goes into the center as well as their whole home and the additions on it, studios, etc..  It was raw land that they purchased.

I hope this clears things up a little.  I suppose it should not bother me that people do not know, but ignorance can cause misconceptions and wrong views as well as inaccurately informed biases.  

This is all I wanted to say.   Thank you always to my readers for following my blogs.

My Retinitis Pigmentosa With Cataracts Journey, Experience, Strength and Hope

I want to share my story that began in August of 2015, my second post op on April 4, 2016.  This was an amazing journey for me, because I had cataracts caused by retinitis pigmentosa complicated by extreme myopia, an astigmatism, plus a lazy eye that is actually still quite blind.  However, my vision was improved greatly from lens replacement by one of the best eye surgeons in South Carolina.

I went for a routine eye exam, expecting the usual 'nothing much we can do,' to hear that the cataracts I had had for many years and thought nothing could be done about could be removed, so they made an appointment for me with Dr. Ying in Charleston.

Two months later I took public health transportation to Charleston by myself to see her at her office.  I had all the tests and measurements, plus a full eye exam.  I loved Dr. Ying immediately.  She was so kind and down to earth, a small petite and cute woman with a huge persona and confidence, at least how I saw her from the very first in her dark blue scrubs.

Two months later I was taken to Charleston by a good friend as well as my mother who came along.  Although Dr. Ying had thought to do the good eye, since I am blind in one eye, I wanted to do the bad eye first to see how it would go.  Unfortunately, I was and still am quite blind in that eye, because the retina had atrophied so much, and that had always been a lazy eye.  I was sad about that, but really knew it would probably not be a great improvement for that eye.  All I saw was blackness, although I was awake for the surgery.  I cried when I went to the bathroom in McDonald's afterwards, because I had a bandage on my eye, and had been trying to take it off to see if I could see at all, only to see that it was clear acrylic meaning I still could not see in that eye. 

I got checked out at the office in Charleston afterwards, and my pressure was up, so they brought it down with drops.  I had a splitting headache as well, probably from fasting before surgery and delayed coffee intake.  I brought a thermos of coffee, so I could have it after my surgery.  They gave me apple juice immediately after.

I was still wearing thick glasses, because the right lens does not make much difference for me, and I was afraid to have my one seeing eye operated on.  I researched all the time on the internet, even about the eye drops you have to use for two days before and four weeks after surgery, the antibiotic drop for only seven days after surgery.  I got the best antibiotic eye drops available, which Dr. Ying prescribed.

Because my vision was still so nonexistent in my bad eye, I canceled my second surgery.  I have a doctor in Myrtle Beach as well, and they work together, he and Dr. Ying in consult.  He had her call me to talk about my fears and reservations being a one seeing eye patient.  She was very sympathetic, said the whole situation of my having RP and a lazy eye as well was like 'really?,' and this really helped me to get resolved.  Having gone over the ninety day maximum of time you can wait after an eye exam for insurance to pay for eye surgery, I went all the way back to Charleston in public health transportation again on my own to see her for another exam.  I was really on board, and felt really good about things.

Two months later another kind friend drove me to Charleston for my surgery.  I was afraid, but I decided to have acceptance the night before.  Still, I felt more confident, having been through it all before.

I was somewhat dehydrated, and I was given some fluid through the IV.  In the operating room, I said to the anesthesiologist, "I don't drink, smoke or take pills.  This is my only chance to get high."  I had something for my nerves, but again was awake.  They cover your whole face except an opening for the surgical eye after they cleanse the skin around the eye.

During the surgery, I felt like I could feel the irrigation, although I do not know if that is possible, and all the while I saw exquisite colors, mostly fuchsia and magenta in  kaleidoscopic type patterns, sort of psychedelic.  I later asked Dr. Whittaker, my Myrtle Beach doctor, about that, and he says that some people see that, but no one knows what it is, but that it is a good sign. 

Dr. Ying talked to me at points during the surgery, telling me what was going on, and I answered in a word or two like, "oh great."  Afterwards I got apple juice again, two glasses, so thirsty.

I felt good about my vision.  I was seeing pink lines and my eye was blurry and the pressure was up, but even with the bandage on and the other eye blind, even though I needed assistance, I knew I could already see far better without glasses which I no longer needed with my new lenses, than I could before with glasses.

When I went to the doctor's office in Charleston and went into the bathroom, I saw my own face in the mirror without corrective lenses for the first time in my whole life. 

Four weeks later on my second trip to Dr. Whittaker's, the drops finished, my eye healed, the physician's assistance said she got chills when my eye was examined, because of the amazing improvement of my vision which had been absolutely terrible.  It was truly a miracle.  I was prescribed distance glasses, which I got, and my insurance paid for as well, due to the surgery.  I had to pay a little extra, since I wanted polycarbonate, only having one seeing eye, and a little more stylish glasses than the sale frames.  For the first time in my life, I got to get thin glasses.  The thickness of my glasses had been an issue even in my childhood.

I can see television and computer as well as read without any glasses now.  With reading glasses I can see very small print and detail.  With my distance glasses I can look out the window and see down the street. 

I am still legally blind due to retinitis pigmentosa, because of my field of vison and being blind in one eye as well as the night blindness caused by RP, but I feel so sighted that I am walking on air.  This is the most amazing thing aside from giving birth to two healthy boys, that has ever happened to me in my entire life. 

For anyone with RP who needs cataract surgery, after going through this and the success of it, I say 'go for it.'  Having better vision is so amazing.  It is not really that I got vision back, because once the retinal cells die, they are gone, but I got new vision I never had.  Colors are brighter and truer.  I am no longer highly myopic, and my astigmatism has been a great deal corrected.  Plus the cataracts which make things foggy and dull have been removed.  It is just wonderful.

India With My Mother 1974

     When I was twelve years old, I went to India with my mother.  My parents were followers of Meher Baba.  For the record, I was like any kid, a believer in what my parents believed, but not anymore.  I am a grown up.
     We stayed at a place called Velu Villa, and not many people went to India in those days.  We spent time with people who knew Meher Baba and lived with him.  These people were known as the mandali including Mehera, a lovely women who was closest to him, Eruch his interpreter, a very nice man, Dr. Gohair, also very sweet and others.  We spent much time with Mehera, and I sang and played guitar for her.  She called me lovely Leslie.  I sang her a song that I had learned, that some woman had written for her when my dad had been there in 1970 during Christmas and her birthday.
     I sat listening to my mother converse with Eruch.  He had been the interpreter for Meher Baba, who had chosen to be silent.  He is by the way, not the only silent master.  Some Indian masters such as Baba Hari Daas remained silent longer than Meher Baba by far. 
     In the end, if there is a God, then God alone is God.  To me there is no evidence or sign or even indication that Meher Baba could be anything but a fraud.
    

'Never Let Me Go' by Kazuo Ishiguro/ What It's About and What I Think it Means

     I feel that in Never Let Me Go, Japanese born British author Kazuo Ishiguro has written a literarily perfect novel.  It is in the category of science fiction.  It has also been made into a movie, which I have not seen.  I never heard of this book until it was sent to me by the library of congress for the blind, or state library for the blind.
     At first I almost gave up on this book, because I did not know what it was about (my books come automatically based on my preferences in authors and genres).  However, I researched the book, and then I understood.  In fact, I was totally understanding at this point and very intrigued.  I do not want to totally spoil the plot, in case you want to read this book, and I do not usually like science fiction or phantasy, but this book really caught my attention.  It was read by a reader with an English accent, which was appropriate, considering it takes place in England, mostly the rural countryside, which I personally have never been to, but long to go to go to.  (I have only been to London, but have karma with Scotland, at least considering my relationship with Alan, who died, and my ancestry.)
    The main characters are Kathy, Tommy, and Ruth.  The book skips around in time a bit.  It starts out in a school called Hailsham in the English countryside.  Well, actually, that being the nineties when they were in there teens, like thirteen, it actually begins in the present 2000's when Kathy is a carer.  It keeps talking about doners, and this is the spooky part.
     Kathy and Tommy are very close.  So are Kathy and Ruth, but they have some turmoil in their relationship off and on.  The school encourages creativity, and the reason is a mystery.  In fact, everything is kind of mysterious in a way.  However, the reason for this is explained, and the reader becomes aware of the plot, bit by bit.
     After being at Hailsham, they are sent, among others, who are not from Hailsham, but are in the same situation, to a place called 'the cottages.'  The cottages are cold and are not as nice as Hailsham, but they are communal with these other young people, who are called veterans.
     I would also like to mention that the reason it is called 'Never Let Me Go,' is because of a song by Judy Bridgewater that Kathy listens to when she is a child, that Madame sees her dancing to, pretending to hold a baby.  The tape disappears, but Tommy finds it again years later in a little antique store with Kathy, on one of the group's many road trips.  Madame had sobbed, seeing Kathy dancing to the song long ago.  The meaning comes up fully in the story, and I think it is a nice twist or detail.
     Much more happens from there, and we eventually come back to the present day, but I will not tell any more, because that would give away the story.  I will say, however, why I think this book is really powerful.  The plot is somewhat inhumane in a completely civilized way.  You may have to think a bit to understand what I mean by that, but on the other hand you may understand immediately.  I tend to assume that everyone understands at times.  I think the world is very sick and corrupt, and even the most supposedly spiritual or wonderful arenas are full of terrible travesties.  While this book and its questions it poses without saying, of ethics, is really deep, I get it.  I really do.  Many situations in this world are wrong and unethical, and yet we go along with them.  Sometimes you wonder why that must be or why it is.  Just look at the Nazi Holocaust.  It also happens on a small scale, very small and in the most sanctimonious communities, part of why I left the whole Meher Baba scene.  There was too much evil going on, especially around the Meher Center here in South Carolina.
     I hope you will find some time to read this great author's work.  If you do not trust my review, then just check it out on google, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble or any other book review material that you may prefer.  If anything, I have to say that it is a dark tale, no doubt, but unless you are living in an alternate universe, this world is dark.  And, when you have a life with some darkness, you know how to see the light between the cracks.  This book is not for the faint hearted or those with a charmed life, but anyone in their right mind would find his writing brilliant.  I found it utterly beautiful to be honest.

The Shadow That Carl Jung Talked About

     If you are anything like me, you may have grown up and gone through your young adulthood thinking you had to always be a really good and moral person.  Of course, it is good to be a good and moral person, but excessively trying to be a 'good' person is not always healthy in the long run.  One might have a lack of boundaries due to wanting to please and thinking one had to always be nice.
     Some people innately have a positive self worth where with they can maneuver through life without any neurosis, or not too much anyway.  Some people are unafraid, and some are very afraid.  Fear is everything love is not, but I would say that I was one of those 'afraid' people.  I guess it took alcohol to make me unafraid, what some call liquid courage, and I never even discovered that side of alcohol until I was in my forties. 
     When you have been oppressed by people, such as romantic partners, you can become so distant from who you are, that you do not even know yourself at all anymore.  That was how I was, like a stranger to myself, no tools for coping, no understanding of what Jung talked about, 'the shadow.' 
     When I realized that I was not this perfect woman I wanted to be, I fell apart.  I was so far from good, and this was before I even learned that alcohol could make me feel incredibly brave and free. 
     I had been a soccer mom, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect housekeeper, and party maker with the perfect image, but it all fell apart, and nothing went right.  It all fell apart.  I could not hang on to my husband, my house, my stature, not even my job in the end.  I landed up with the wrong man after my divorce, and it was like a domino effect of bad events.
     Still, I kept my composure and dealt with my father's sickness and death, my loss of my second partner, and more, not knowing that so many more trials were yet to come.
     I will spare the reader the details, but at one point all I did was make one bad decision after another.  I am surprised I did not completely destroy myself and my life.  The hardest part was that if I had accepted my whole self and not just parts, I would have been okay.  If I had respected myself, I would have not felt so guilty for not being perfect.  I could have been honest with others and with myself, without being afraid.  I was afraid of my Jungian shadow most of all I think.
     I realize that the term is abstract unless one has studied his philosophy of psychology.  No one can be perfect, all good, and to think that is possible is only a road to pain.  Accepting oneself totally is the only way to proceed.