Back then, I mean before a couple of national financial institutions embezzled all my assets from my trust account, I planned meals based on what was in season or what sounded good. Now I plan meals based on what is the cheapest, sometimes it’s based on what we have. I’ve just turned 63 and most nights I go to sleep hungry. This is the United States of America. NO ONE should ever go to bed hungry. Yet, millions of Americans do because of the ultimate crimes...government corruption.
Now every single day is the same, every day is about survival. So it really doesn’t matter what I wear. In fact the longer I can wear an outfit the better, because it costs a lot of money to wash clothing. That money is better spent on food.
Back then I tended to myself, husband, children, pets, home and family, in this exact order because “Charity starts at home” remember? Now I’m barely taking care of myself because I can’t afford to. I can’t afford to keep my lifeline, the Internet, running and plug in the small pathetic heater in the tent; so I opt to keep the Internet going affording me the luxury of, “twittering” and submitting articles.
Back then when I wanted to get somewhere, I’d jump into my Jeep Overland, usually to complete an errand for someone I loved or take a class on a subject that would make me a better, wife, mother, friend and artist. I could use my cell phone any time I wanted to. Now I usually have six minutes left to talk and must walk a mile before I use it. My 1998 Dodge truck, which I traded my 2009 GMC for, three years ago, no longer runs; has expired tags and sits in front of my tent as a reminder of the travesty of my life because of unaddressed crimes committed against me that the government authorities refuse to investigate from behind closed doors of secrecy.
Back then when I needed to take a shower, I unconsciously disrobed; showered in a beautiful tiled environment and dressed; going about my day. If I were going to a party that evening I’d take another one. Now I must walk two miles to the shower, while it’s filthy and crawling with spiders.
Ah, and cooking for my adored family then would involve hours of cookbook study and a “Ta Da” when they’d arrive home for dinner to a perfectly set family table. The exquisite meal prepared on a gas Wolf Range or in the oven. Now I’m trying to cook whatever my Sweetie, Larry and I can find to eat in the iceless cooler, between one broken cook top burner and an over used tiny gas grill…that is if we can afford the propane. Most of the time we can’t.
Hey America having trouble with your weight? Well never mind. When you land in the street because of unaddressed financial and real estate crimes, the good news will be you’ll finally get skinny because there will be little food. What’s still better, depending on what state you’re residing in the street, you won’t be given donations of food because in many states it’s today against the law to feed you. Now you’ll get really skinny and you can write a book on how you did it. The publisher’s advance will pull you out of the streets, while you get fat again. Now you’ll have to explain your philosophy on dieting to an untrusting audience.
Yippee! A new reality TV program is born.
Back then when someone in my family or I got sick I’d run to the doctor or emergency room at the Henry Ford Hospital. Now Larry, Bu Bu and I muddle through guessing about what might be wrong? And, whatever it is “Tuff Titties.”
No there are no government programs that help an heiress who paid huge state and federal income taxes for years, created a business from scratch, lasting only a short time, because of the federal financial crimes committed against she, her trust, her shared business with her partner. Her partner, Larry’s life is destroyed in this way too, for many of the same reasons. Neither of us can retain employment because of unlawfully, criminally destroyed credit.
And, the friends I had back then were the powerful who take part in running our financial institutions and country; they also took part in making sure I landed in the street. Now Larry and my friends consist of others whom have been victims of the same unaddressed crimes that attacked our lives.
Back then I designed, had built and decorated two multi-million dollars homes; my trust paid for and owned these homes; I paid less that three hundred and fifty thousand dollars for them; they appreciated to be worth millions. Now I live in a tent and have for two years, while the family I loved enjoy my assets embezzled by their father and a few national financial institutions; unaddressed by the government authorities.
Back then I wallowed trustingly in my position as a new grandmother to dear sweet Clayton, my first grandchild. Now I check the Internet for new births of my grand babies…equal to six whom I’ve never met or met briefly when one other was an infant.
Back then my daughters said, “Meré you’re the best Mother in the world; none could be better we love you with all our hearts.” Their actions said the same. My husband said everyday, “You are the sunshine of my life,” his actions claimed the same for twenty-four years. Stevie Wonder’s song, titled above was our wedding march on the shores of Lake Tahoe commenced by the Northern, California Episcopal Bishop; Bishop Hayden in 1974.
When the divorce decree ink had dried for one month, my ex-husband arrogantly pranced down the isle with his new squeeze, Lauren the financial advisor, to “You Are The Sunshine Of My Life.” My beautiful now grown daughters stood beside them after instantly kicking me out of their lives.
Jealousy and greed is an interesting affliction in this country, starting at the top…our government. We now can see it reflected in our families.
But, when all has been said and done I finally know what real love feels like. My sweet Larry is still by my side as we fight this battle together. Our precious weenie dog Bu Bu loves us with all his heart. The world should be so lucky. And what we can accomplish through this love will be our miracle.
By: Deborah Breuner