JULY 3 - JULY 9, 1999
JULY 9, 1999
Me and my friends
Good morning. We had some more rain overnight and even more is on the way. Boser’s
Southside Market has local corn for sale.
I was talking to Joe Zampogna yesterday who told me about how when he was visiting his
son in Pittsburgh last week they went out to a farm and purchased home grown corn. (That
of course would be Trax Farms - my mother used to get all her fresh produce from them and
we would spend days canning and freezing food for the winter.) With Y2K coming, that might
not be a bad idea.
Speaking of Y2K, I received this in the mail regarding compliancy.
Blonde secretary's memo to her boss:
To: My Boss
From: Blondie
Subject: Changing calendars from
Y2K
I hope that I haven't misunderstood your instructions because,
to be honest,none of this Y to K problem made much sense to me. At any rate, I have
finished the conversion of all of the months on all the company calendars for next year.
The calendars have returned from the printer and are ready to be distributed with the
following new months:
Januark,Februark, Mak,Julk,
I also changed all the days of each week to:
Sundak, Mondak, Tuesdak, Wednesdak, Thursdak,
Fridak, Saturdak.
We are now Y to K compliant.
That came compliments of Tommy Clark. I don’t want anyone saying that I am
picking on blondes. I like blondes - and brunettes, and redheads (I better), too. By the
way, does anyone know what color Cheri O’Mara’s hair is?
Then there is Joe Warner. He has been having a heck of a time with the Guestbook Affair
over at Bradford On-line. It got so bad he erased the whole mess and changed the format
just to keep things under control. He asked me to pass this along to you.
Hi Bud,
Since many of your visitors also seem to be aware of Bradford On-line's Guestbook,
could you mention that we have the new interactive forum "Talk About Bradford"?
The url is http://bradford-online.com/forum I think
they'll find it interesting.
Then there is my buddy Bernie Moore. He was off line for awhile and now he is back.
First the FCC seized his site and then it received approval. Well, he explained it
yesterday.
The JERK'S JOURNAL NOW APPROVED BY THE FCC "The FCC," he said, "The
Flamer's Computer Council."
Who the hell are the Flamers? And you wonder why we call him the JERK!
Still, Bernie needs all the hits he can get. He had an interesting fireworks
display, on-line, in association with his daily page - his notes. And, judging from what
he writes, there are sure to be more fireworks of the literary nature - something I can
admire. Oh well.
Then there are the other people who send me stuff like this:
FOLLOW ME TO FINANCIAL FREEDOM!!
I am looking for people with a Good Work Ethic and extraordinary Desire to Earn at
Least $10,000 per Month Working From Home!
NO SPECIAL SKILLS OR EXPERIENCE REQUIRED. We will give you all the training and
personal support you will need to ensure your success!
This LEGITIMATE HOME-BASED INCOME OPPORTUNITY can put you back in Control of your Time,
Your Finances, and Your Life!
If you've tried other opportunities in the past that have failed to live up to their
promises, THIS IS DIFFERENT THAN ANYTHING ELSE YOU'VE SEEN!
THIS IS NOT MULTI-LEVEL-MARKETING OR A GET-RICH-QUICK SCHEME!
YOUR FINANCIAL PAST DOES NOT HAVE TO BE YOUR FINANCIAL FUTURE!
CALL ONLY IF YOU ARE SERIOUS!
800-995-0796 ext 7857
Keep in mind that this came to me via e-mail. Why should I have to call them using an
800 number? Why not sign up via the net? Something is missing here. But, that’s kind
of the story of most of my friends. Something is missing! That must explain why they are
my friends. If they can live with that, so can I.
Comment on this at rdhedbud@penn.com.
JULY 8, 1999
When the power goes out
Good morning. I am writing this column wondering if anyone will ever read it. You see,
sometime before midnight we had a power outage. With it, my phone service went out and is
not restored even as I write this piece. I wonder if this isn’t a sneak preview of
Y2K!
The power was out for one hour and five minutes, approximately.
You ask how I know? Simple enough. It goes back to Sister William Ann in the second
grade at St. Bernard’s School in Mount Lebanon when she taught me to subtract numbers
larger than nine. It was simple addition and subtraction once I found my father’s
watch that runs from batteries. The clocks on the stove and the microwave all said 6:55
and his watch said 5:50. Assuming that the clocks on the stove started from zero once the
power was restored, we are able to surmise several things.
First, there is a lapse of time. Exactly 1 hour and five minutes.
Second, power was restored 1 hour and five minutes before midnight, or, 10:55 P.M.
Third, from this information, we cannot tell how long it was off.
Because of that, I went to Sharyn’s bedside alarm clock. When I woke her up this
morning, instead of reading 6:55 like the electronic digital clocks in the kitchen, the
old fashioned electric clock with hands said it was 4:45. Hence, Sister William Ann’s
basic lesson still was applicable. One hour and five minutes it was.
Now I am faced with a nagging question as to why, when the power was restored, my
phone service was not? My cell phone works. I used it to report the power outage to a very
nice lady just before I began writing. Why then are both of the house phones out? I find
that very unusual. So did she. In fact she ran a test on both lines and detected trouble.
I asked her a simple question. In light of the many things that have happened to me
since 1996, it seemed a very logical one.
"Is it possible the Attorney General’s surveillance of my phones needs to be
reset because of the extended outage?" I asked.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I am under constant scrutiny by Mike Fisher and his minions," I said.
"I have Porky and Petunia watching me. Killer Krastek is after my head and I
have no reason to doubt that every word we are saying right now is being monitored and
recorded."
"Why of course it is," she said. "Didn’t you hear the recording
that ran at the beginning of the connection with the repair service?" she asked.
"Of course I did," I said. "Beyond that, they are listening in on my
cell phone calls too," I told her.
"Mr. Beck," she said. "You sound just like Mel Gibson in Conspiracy
Theory."
"No," I said, correcting her. "I would say it is more like Will Smith in
Enemy of the State. And Mike Fisher is that Jon Voight character, except Jon Voight
is a reasonably reprehensible character because he was never a lawyer."
"Oh," she said trying to humor me.
Let me tell you, at six o’clock in the morning when the power has been out and you
never knew it and then you find out that your phones are gone, too, the last thing you
need is to be humored even if you do sound like a certified nut case. Where is Gene
Hackman when you need him? Better yet, where’s Pretty Woman?
She never did answer my question about General Fisher’s devices that
monitor my every phone call and message, including all those unwanted adult solicitations
I am bombarded with via e-mail. You know, I have suspected Fisher of trying to set me
up with that filth. Second on the list would be C. Russell followed by Michele Alfieri,
but that is another story.
Instead, she was very proper, never confirming or denying the existence of
surveillance devices designed to know what I am planning next. She informed me that my
complaint was being forwarded to repair and they would be out shortly to decide what was
wrong with my line. But, in light of the fact that the JERK stopped writing his daily
notes and Papa Joe has shut down the Guestbook at Bradford on-line, aside from the stock
market reports with Paine Webber and your e-mail, there isn’t much reason to be on
line.
This is kind of like the old days before Al Gore invented the Internet. That happened
about the time Al Pingie invented and founded open government I suppose. Thinking
back to those days, I think I’ll go turn on television and get my news the old
fashioned way. I’ll let you know how long this lasts.
In the meantime, if you are ever able to again, comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.
JULY 7, 1999
Bradford on-line and the blank page
Good morning. After a really good night of sleep it is tough to get the brain
engaged.
For those of you out there in cyber space, we had heavy rains and thunderstorms last
evening that broke the back of the heat wave. All weekend all you heard was how hot it
was. Next January and February, all you'll hear is how cold it is. People are
fickle. Remember that word? It used to mean something about how changeable women were.
That was before the sexual revolution. Now, I wonder if it has a meaning at all?
It used to be when I hit a morning when I couldn't make the creative juices work, I
would go to e-mail and print what you wrote. I stopped doing that because my detractors
would say I wrote the letters. Remember the Cheri O'Mara slut thing? CASE IN POINT!
Still, I understand the outrage of the person who wrote the letter because even now the
lies continue of the the exposure of the children, teachers, and workmen alike, to
asbestos.
So, I don't print the e-mail except when I use a different case and it is generally a
subject that no one really cares about. With that in mind, when Cornplanter and Red Jacket
are out of town, and when you haven't been to the Bradford Hotel lately, and when
you do hit the occasional blank page, you go wandering to find material.
Around here there generally is a wealth of material. We have the JERKS JOURNAL and his
daily notes. When I went to see what Bernie was doing I found a notice that the site had
been confiscated by the FCC and all that was left was a link to this web site.
That was down right discouraging. I miss the picture of Bernie and the kids. They are
cute kids, and after awhile you do get used to his mug. And, he's really not a bad guy,
either. Bernie! If you're out there in need of help, give us a call. You know, dude, the
reverse of the Werewolf of London man. Just axe us.
Then, in response to an e-mail I will not publish, I checked out Bradford on-line.
Specifically, I went to the Guestbook. Just as the e-mail promised, I did not believe what
I saw or read. It really tells us something about the kind of people we really are.
It seems that one day a week ago some low life bottom feeder insulted the daughter of a
council woman and the council woman herself. Several un-named parties came to the defense
of both. I agree with what they did and what they said. From there the commentaries went
to the degradation of a specific class of people who form the major industry of the city
and finally to the city itself.
When it seemed that the on going conversation could sink no lower, then I became the
topic of discussion.
Fortunately, I see the humor in most situations. This one was especially humorous
because of the long range implications. It was, and is if there is any truth to the rumor
which I will not comment on because of the absurdity of it all - maybe - a Catch 22 of
sorts for my enemies.What a thought! Things like this are literally made for me. Issues
like that one make me rise to the occasion. For whoever it was that started this: Thank
you, Thank you, Thank you!
I won't give you the address of Bradford on-line out of fear of being accused of
orchestrating the entire thing. I won't even comment or repeat anything that was and is
being said. It is just too ridiculous for words. Still, even in the stupidity of it all,
there is wisdom also.
People really do think like that!
The Bradford Era proves it every time they print a story attacking a Carolyn
Gulnac, thus giving the lies and falsehoods spread about her, credibility. The
Bradford Era proves it when they brush the asbestos issue under the table and
discredit two fine young men who had enough courage to make themselves heard. Yes, The
Bradford Era proves it when it soft soaps and looks the other way when corporations
are contributing to incumbent mayors after sister and brother corporations in which there
is shared common ownership were the benefactors of City perks like LERTA and maybe
even loans from the revolving fund.
What happened to journalism and reporting stories no matter who they exposed?
That doesn't happen here. The last person with courage to do that was Jim Lakely and he
went on to bigger and better things at the Tribune down Pittsburgh way when they
couldn't control him. Too bad for us being stuck with what we have.
Maybe that's why we need the Guestbook at Bradford on-line. Maybe in the absurdity we
can find truth. Maybe on the blank page we are better off than ruining a fine woman's life
or lying to parents about what has really happened to their children.
Maybe that's why fools are the only truly happy people. Color me that color. Please!
Comment on this at rdhedbud@penn.com.
JULY 6, 1999
The case of Michael Brown
Good morning. It looks like another hot one. Just remember how nice this is next
February.
I took a ride the other day. My mind was drawn back to one of the stories that kept
the Mountain Laurel Review rolling along in those early days. (Hard to imagine that it
will be six full years this August 1st.) That of course would be the Kathy Wilson Murder
case.
I went up to Lindell Road. It's in the high country of Warren County up near the New
York border. I went down to Mud Run, the creek bed that Kathy Wilson's naked body was
rolled into after going down a steep embankment.. That's where it stayed,
decomposing and breaking apart for the next seventeen months until children found her
skull on a September Saturday.
The first time I was at that place a strange feeling over took me. I mistook it for
being at a place where someone had lost their life. It was certainly easy to do. The
serenity of the place and the violent history can easily allow your imagination to run
away with itself. I would return to that place many, many times. Each time my
feelings would take over and each time it was as if a voice just might be calling out to
me. Finally, on an afternoon in May, 1995, I would take Kelly (Kathy's oldest child) and
Mark Wilson (her husband) there. It was at that moment I realized that whatever it was
that pulled me back, was gone. The trip back the other day was the first in four years.
I found remnants of the yellow police ribbon used to cordon off the area from
spectators and thrill seekers. It was still there after nearly ten years. The place was
much like it was four years ago, as it was probably on May 18, 1999 when her lover, after
disposing of her pocketbook and van, later that evening, took her lifeless body out of his
vehicle and put it in that place. Then, to make it look like the murder happened there, he
scattered her clothing and pieces of her jewelry around the area. He expected that
she would be found and did not anticipate that it would take seventeen months. All that
much better for him.
He could tell that the police did not know what they were doing. They never checked his
alibi. If he was a suspect, he was so far down the list, they passed him by once he
gave his initial statement. An over the hill FBI agent would come see him once more
but that would be the end of it. Finally the remains were found and somehow the police
came up with a sixteen year old who was ratting on his friend so he could collect the
reward. The sixteen year old's name was Mike Brown. His friend was Jay William Buckley.
Her lover breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone believed, or wanted to believe, that Buckley
did it. Even her lover, in his own way, wanted to believe it.
Brown was arrested even though an experience State Police Investigator Michael Povolic
would admit there were "holes in his story that needed more checking." He would
go on to say: "I didn't understand the hurry."
But those were times when careers could be made and changed by being one of the leads
in this most opportune murder case. Richard Hernan, the outgoing District Attorney, could
claim the apprehension and arrest in the case. Joseph Massa, the incoming District
Attorney, could claim the convictions and sent the murderer to the Electric Chair. At the
same time the local lead investigator, Trooper John Herzog, would get the credit for
cracking the case and getting Brown's confession.
Several years later, after a six week long trial, and after the Defense Attorney
expertly exposing lie after lie after lie that he kept score in front of the jury on a
chalk board, the jury took less than two hours to find Buckley innocent of the charges.
Then, Brown, after being sentenced for the charges he already plead guilty to, reversed
his plea, admitted he lied about the entire thing, and was set free.
After years of legal wrangling, most of it to shield the investigator and the
prosecutor from their part in Michael's lies, Michael was finally ordered to stand trial
in the matter of perjury. It happened like this.
February 18, 1998 - Warren, PA In an evenly divided opinion, the state Supreme Court
ruled Tuesday the state Attorney General's Office must prosecute a private criminal
complaint against a discredited eyewitness to a 1988 Warren County murder.
March 5, 1998 - Warren, PA The Pennsylvania Attorney General's Office will not re-argue
the Pennsylvania Supreme Court ruling upholding the prosecution of Michael Brown. The
decision clears the way for Brown's prosecution on perjury charges
Michael Brown Being Sought To Face Perjury Charges. March 21, 1998 -
Warren, PA Eight and one half years after he was first arrested in the Kathy Wilson murder
case, police are again seeking Michael Reuben Brown
Brown Arraigned on Perjury Charges. May 19, 1998 - Warren, PA Michael Ruben
Brown, wanted by the Pennsylvania Attorney General's Office on perjury and other charges
stemming from the Jay William Buckley murder trial, was arraigned Monday before District
Justice Arthur Zerbe and remanded to the Warren County Jail in lieu of $20,000 bail.
Brown Waives Hearing. May 30, 1998 - Warren, PA A Falconer, N.Y. man facing
perjury and other charges in connection with testimony he offered related to the 1988
kidnap, rape, and murder of a Jamestown N.Y. woman waived his preliminary hearing on
Friday.
Brown Pleads Innocent July 9, 1998 - Warren, PA Michael R. Brown entered
"not guilty" pleas Thursday before Judge Paul Millin to perjury and other
charges stemming from the Jay William Buckley murder trial.
Brown Admits Perjury, Enter Guilty Pleas. September 12, 1998 Warren, PA
Michael Brown, the prosecution's key witness in the Kathy Wilson murder trial, told Judge
Paul Millin on Friday he perjured himself in that trial. Brown pleaded guilty to two
counts of perjury in a negotiated agreement with the State Attorney General's Office.
Other related charges will not be prosecuted.
Brown Sentenced For Lying To Jury. October 10, 1998 - Warren, PA The
long-running perjury case of discredited "murder witness" Michael R. Brown came
to a head Friday when Brown received a lengthy state prison sentence. Judge Paul Millin
ordered Brown, now 27, Jamestown, N.Y., to serve three and a half to seven years in
prison. The prison time will run concurrently for two counts of perjury stemming from the
prosecution of Jay William Buckley for the 1988 kidnaping, rape, and murder of Kathy
Wilson, Jamestown. Buckley was acquitted on all counts.
Brown Asks to Withdraw Guilty Pleas. December 8, 1998 - Warren, PA When Michael
Brown walked into court to be sentenced on two counts of perjury in October, he admits,
"I was one hundred and ten percent sure I was going home the day I got
sentenced."
Instead of going home, Brown was led off to state prison to begin serving a 3 1/2 to
seven-year sentence imposed by Warren County Judge Paul Millin.
On Monday, Brown and his attorney, Elliot Segel, were back before Millin, asking that
Brown be allowed to withdraw his guilty pleas to perjury. If that motion fails, they want
Millin to reconsider the sentence.
Brown to get another day in Court. January 9, 1999 - Warren, PA The
discredited "eyewitness" in the Kathy Wilson murder will get a second chance for
leniency when he's re-sentenced on Feb.5 on two perjury charges.
On Oct. 9, 1998, Michael R. Brown, 27, Jamestown, N.Y., was sentenced to three and a
half to seven years in a state prison. He had admitted he lied in implicating Jay William
Buckley in the 1998 (sic) kidnaping, rape and murder of Wilson, Jamestown. Buckley was
acquitted on all counts.
Brown subsequently filed motions to withdraw his guilty plea and reconsider and reduce
his sentence.
Brown's Request for Leniency Denied. February 6, 1999 - Warren, PA Judge Paul
Millin denied Michael R. Brown leniency on two perjury charges in his re-sentencing
Friday, but did credit him with time served on prior related charges.
Brown, 27, Jamestown. N.Y., the discredited "eyewitness" in the Kathy Wilson
murder, was re-sentenced to three and a half to seven years in state prison with
additional credit for 879 days served that wasn't originally credited.
He had already been sentenced to three and a half to seven years in a state prison on
Oct. 9. He had previously admitted he lied in implicating Jay William Buckley for the 1988
kidnaping, rape and murder of Wilson, Jamestown. Buckley was acquitted on all counts.
Brown subsequently filed motions to withdraw his guilty plea and for reconsideration of
his sentence
There you have it. Eleven years after Kathy Wilson was murdered on May 18,
1988, we are wrangling over how the authorities took a kid and twisted him into ratting on
his buddy. The murderer, in the meanwhile, has become quite successful in his own rite.
And, he is as free as a bird and not one eye is raised over his actions on that afternoon.
Michael Brown has one more shot at freedom. A reader, who has taken up the case of Mike
Brown, writes:
I wouldn't classify my thoughts on
this hearing as "expectations". I am quite sure of what should happen if
this hearing is granted. One thing I am certain of and would stress is that they would
like to avoid this hearing every bit as much as they want to avoid a public trial for
Brown. Not only would this hearing expose nearly as much as a trial, it is in fact the
only avenue that could possibly to a trial. In other words if the can get around this
hearing, they are home free.
The acute conflict in this is that this evidence is so patently of the specific nature
that not only compels that a hearing be held, but in fact requires that this relief (plea
withdrawal) be granted. The crux of it is that a public trial is the very last thing they
want to have happen, this hearing is the second to last thing they want to have happen
(just in itself) let alone the fact that it would seem to lead inexorably to a trial.
Of course they do have other options. For example Judge Millin could grant any of the
requested relief without a hearing. Where this could lead, your guess is as good as
mine - another plea bargain?, or the judge could just tell Michael to "get his
clothes and go home". Of course none of this is acceptable to me, nor I contend, to
the interests of justice. I would also stress that this is precisely why the attention of
the media, and the various activist organizations must be brought to bear on this matter
now. Also note that a potential conflict exists here between my plans ( a public trial),
and Mr. Brown's best interests as likely perceived by him, or even objectively for that
matter. All I can say at this time is that Michael seems solidly on board at this point,
but that could change. In other words, if they were to just let him walk, it would be
difficult to see (or expect) him to demand a trial, a trial at which he would face a
potential sentence of 43 years if convicted.
A relevant point here though is that any of these other options present the problem of
"appearances". Then again, this entire scheme has a rather blatant problem of
appearances, and it hasn't stopped them yet.
As for the specific issues of this hearing, I see this matter (transcripts) as opening
the door to nearly every aspect of this case, including the collusion and misconduct of
Michael's former attorneys, Judge Wolfe, various court personnel, the attorney general's
office, and the state police in the cover-up of this fiasco. I even believe (firmly) that
the appellate courts have acted collusively in this matter, most apparently in even
granting reconsideration of the initial superior court decision, let alone review by the
supreme court - given the nature of this matter, and the absurdities of the attorney
general's arguments. I view all of this as perfectly in line with the attorney general's
plan all along - to delay this matter as long as possible, and if worse come to worse,
offer a plea bargain Michael simply could not resist.
Another matter that seems appropriate to mention here is the fact that the entire
proceedings (of which this hearing (missing transcripts) represents the key proceeding
thereon) was an absolute farce. This is probably not readily apparent to a layman, but the
entire issue was misrepresented (consistently, and intentionally) as being a question of
whether Michal's testimony at the Buckley trial was coached and coerced. (Actually it was
distorted worse than that). The real issue, and in fact the only issue here concerning Mr.
Brown's plea withdrawal was whether his guilty plea was coerced. Of course an examination
of such a question would have been a disaster to the perpetrators.
So, what of Kathy Wilson after all of these years? Does anyone even
care? It seems they do not.
As I walked around that place, I understood why I was drawn back so many times.
It was as if I was walking in an unconsecrated grave yard. It was the place where Kathy's
soul was waiting to be found and waiting to have her story told. I did that even at the
expense of hurting her family and her friends. Kathy's story had to be told because so
many had gone to such great lengths to hide it. She needed redemption.
Frankly, I don't care what happens to Mike Brown. I do care that Herzog and
Massa walk around clean of the dirt that is not exclusively Brown's. But the system
protects its own. It is made up of people who see to it. Mike Fisher and his staff at the
Attorney General's office are good at twisting the truth and the system of justice we only
perceive exists.
If there is a crime greater than the one that killed Kathy Wilson and damaged
her family, that is it.
Comment on this at rdhedbud@penn.com.
JULY 5, 1999
Sharing the loss of a child
Good morning. Many people experience heartache in their lives. They tie it to set
backs, disappointments, broken marriages, and sometimes, just not getting what they want
or feel they need.. There are the Donald Trumps of the world that seem to have everything.
Maybe they do. Who is to say but those persons themselves? But really, few things hit you
harder than the loss of someone you love. Few things hurt more than when you watch all the
hopes you have for a baby die with his last little gasp for air and you feel a shudder go
through his tiny little body. That is heartache. I carry mine around in my wallet. Today,
on his birthday, I am sharing it with you.
Husbands and wives share many things during the years of their marriage. There’s
the sex we mistake for love and the love we mistake for sex. Really, the two are not
interchangeable. They are just a by product of one another. If the marriage is good, the
sex is five to ten percent. If it is bad, then the sex becomes ninety to ninety-five
percent.
The most significant part of their sharing is their children. Together, they create
them and plan for their futures. They share decisions and in a perfect world, share the
task of caring for the children. Those children bring them closer together, and, at the
same time, drive them farther apart. Each child is different and special in their own way
and are oh so very, very special.
Sharyn and I were very lucky when we met each other. She had Kimberly and Jason, I had
Geoff. I was unique in a sense back then. Not many fathers had custody of their children.
Even with all the obvious problems, I was doing a fair job of being father and mother
alike. Without a whole lot of thought or a very long courtship, we came together, were
married, and with our two families we tried to make one.
That in itself is quite a story. The fact that we were successful makes it seem matter
of fact. For some reason we are more interested in failures than the successes. We would
rather hear about heart ache than joy. No one wants to hear about people who do what they
are supposed to each and every day. Instead they would rather hear about the exceptions to
the norm and how dreadful everything was because of circumstances that were beyond their
control. Back in those days I think I could have easily become one of those losers that
everyone loves to hear about had it not been for Sharyn. She made me whole and it was her
that kept me focused.
When we found out she was pregnant, we were very happy indeed. If ever there was going
to be a child brought into the world that was wanted, ours would be that child. We were in
our thirties and had raised children and had a very happy home in which to bring another.
The impending birth of our child, a son, made our world seem very bright.
John Walter Beck was born on Friday evening, July 5, 1985. He weighed in at nine pounds
and one ounce. He had red hair and brown eyes. His mother never held him.
He didn’t "pink up" immediately and the doctors suspected he had fluid
on his lungs. They gave him oxygen through a tiny little mask. Even from the beginning he
was a fighter and a south paw. With a good strong left he knocked the mask away from his
face, wanting to breathe on his own. Even when they removed the fluid, there was still
something wrong. They didn’t know. He seemed big and strong, yet his body wasn’t
getting oxygen.
I used to know the medical terminology for what he was born with. Like so much of what
happened between Friday evening going on into Saturday morning; then beginning again in
the afternoon on Saturday and finally ending in a hospital a hundred miles away in San
Antonio on Sunday, it was forgotten.
I remember that on Saturday I asked a friend, a nurse, what would happen if he died.
What arrangements would I have to make and how would I go about doing them. At the same
time I remember trying to put an encouraging face on for Sharyn, who finally was allowed
to see him on Saturday night when I insisted he be baptized..Moments later he was whisked
off in an ambulance to a larger facility that specialized in what they suspected was
wrong. He was born with half a heart.
If you remember those times, medical science was on the verge of great things. There
was the baby in Houston who received a monkey’s heart and lived several days. There
were other babies who they tried any number of things in an attempt to give them and their
parents even the slightest glimmer of hope. I was offered those choices, too.
The offer came from a very famous Houston heart surgeon during a 3 A.M. phone call. He
had a team from Boston standing by ready to fly to San Antonio and meet him and try some
revolutionary new procedure. I remember asking him how many successes they had. I also
remember him saying they never succeeded. The longest any of the babies lived was a week
or so. What do you say when it is yes or no right then and there?
I said no.
At times like that you find out who your friends are. Paul Chinaris, and employee of
ours, was waken out of a sound sleep and asked to come and stay with Geoffrey who was
eleven then. Joe Kelly, a friend who went back as far as college, rode with me on an
eighty mile an hour race to the hospital in San Antonio to get there before John died. The
picture in this article was taken only moments, maybe seconds, before he died. It was the
only time he was ever held by either of his parents.
Sharyn refused to stay in the hospital. Who could blame her? She checked herself out
and Kathy and Wally Ostrom brought her home. By the time I was back from San Antonio,
Sharyn was at home with Geoff. Kim and Jason were in North Carolina with their father.
So many things happened in so short a time that it almost seemed like I was watching it
all on television and was not living the role, but acting it. Nothing seemed real. He was
born and then he was dead. Then we were at the cemetery waiting on a Priest who showed up
forty-five minutes late with the heavy stench of alcohol on his breath. That, after he
told me there was no cause to have a special Mass or burial service out of the church for
our son. That, after no Catholic Priest or nun was available to baptize my son in a
Catholic Hospital. An Episcopalian Priest, a woman, baptized him. Even at that, having
been raised in the Catholic schools for twelve years, when I needed my church, I felt that
it had abandoned me. I still do to this day.
On the morning of July 5th Sharyn and I went to the hospital with love,
happiness and hope. On the afternoon of July 9th we quietly drove home from the
cemetery empty and wondering what in the world had happened. We would literally spend
years never speaking to one another about those five days.
It is events like the loss of a child that can break two people apart. While it
certainly could have, it did not. Somehow we made it through and faced the daily life
trials that came our way. We came home to Pennsylvania and McKean County and made another
life for ourselves. We watched our children grow and become wonderful and good adults.
Only recently did we mention our son, John. It was then that we realized that both of us
were having dreams in which he talked to us.
Today he would have been fourteen. I dreamt of him last Wednesday and he was telling me
something but I can’t remember what it was. I wish I could, and I wish I could
remember what I said back. I can’t. But even at that, I am sure he knows that he was
wanted and he was loved. I am also sure I told him he was missed so very, very much. I am
sure that I told him that.
These are exciting times for us once more. We are expecting our first grand child in
the end of August. Again, it will be a baby coming into a situation in which it he is
wanted and loved. As we look forward with all the hope in the world, we also look back. As
we do, we do so in sadness and loss.
JULY 3 & 4, 1999
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