Chapter 28 ii): An Opera in Three Acts – But with Five Parts ... ... Act Three: Parts Four and Five

I would remand to the trial court TO IMMEDIATELY ESTABLISH VISITATION BETWEEN LEGION AND THE CHILDREN. I would order the children be allowed to call her on her 800 number and be allowed to receive mail from her in a mailbox she pays for so the mail will go directly to the children and not, as it has in the past, be censored [to the tune of a total of over $5,000 worth of presents, books, medicine, food, toys, telephone calls, clothing which NEVER, EVER got to the Boys …], by the father or stepmother. I would direct the trial court to appoint an attorney to represent the children and to make an investigation. If the attorney for the children determines after the investigation it is in the children’s best interest TO MAKE FURTHER APPLICATION TO THIS COURT REGARDING CUSTODY AND VISITATION, HE OR SHE SHOULD DO SO. Crowrook, B., joins this dissent.” The reader can, of course, tell, right off, the spots in this dissent of hers and Crowrook’s wherein I just could not resist marking them with [EMPHASES]! And including my own interjected, further explanatory commentary within the square brackets. As a matter of fact, Jury, I should not resist this marking, this bracketing, these emphases! These emphasized statements of THE ACTUAL “HEAR”ING’S MAJORITY APPELLATE JURISTS, some of the statements with my expounding clarifications, NEED to be given A HUGE VOICE in order to be heard –– NOW: I need to shout them out loud so as to have the facts contained within them, facts that, indeed, come from out of the keyboards and, therefore, from out of the brains and thoughts of TWO OF THAT THREE – JUDGE PANEL, that is, from out of the brains and thoughts of THE … REASONED … MAJORITY ! ! !, –– so that these facts within ‘my case’ are able then to emasculate the utter and violent UNACCOUNTABILITY … of the thuggish perpetrator of all of this singular Mother – Fucking, Dr. Herod Edinsmaier! Take just Judge Shawshank’s one exemplar alone of the MOTHER – FUCKING which Herry wrought by way of his jumping into bed with the androcentrism and the patriarchy that is ‘the Court’ –– in this instance, the family law court, that is, THE PRECEDENT: What The Precedent means for all Iowans everywhere is this simple verity: NEVER, EVER BEFORE IN THE HISTORY OF THIS STATE HAD THERE BEEN SUCH A PARENT, as Judge Shawshank so described, WHO HAD EVER, EVER BEEN KEPT AWAY FROM THE CHILDREN TO WHOM THAT PARENT WAS BONDED. NEVER, EVER BEFORE. SO. IF NEVER, THEN THIS ITTY – BITTY REALITY BECOMES GLARINGLY CLEAR AS WELL: For as often and as ear – splittingly shrill as some angry and threatening sperm donors love to shove and shovel it out there into the media’s and the public’s eyes … that they are the ones so awfully discriminated against within the state’s family courts of law and that they are the ones who do not get awarded enough time –– in whatever form, whether that be from visitation sometimes to full physical – care custody –– with the children mothers sculpted from these haploid spermatozoa, … at NO time ever, had the exact set of circumstances, criteria and conditions of DR. LEGION TRUE’s SITUATION befallen ANY ONE OF THEM. NOT EVER BEFORE! Is the entirety, is the whole of the (second) Edinsmaier v True appeal quoted time and again?! O NO! … No. No. No. Never is quoted Shawshank’s and Crowrook’s “… MAJORITY … dissenting opinion!” –– –– Only the part of Edinsmaier v True that is … most specific. That is most specific to the guaranteed and assured stroking of threatened males’ egos: the mama’s losing part! That is the only part which is ever quoted in subsequent Iowa custody case after case after case –– as … PRECEDENT! Well, … fuck that! At the time of this writing, it has been just a couple of months passed an entire decade’s worth of time and, consequently then, … of ‘other mothers’ cases’ since Judge Shawshank and Judge Crowrook scripted and, as the FRIGGIN’ MAJORITY then, TOGETHER signed off on … The Dissent. It –– The Dissent –– has never, to my knowledge, seen the light of day … since. O JYeah, the one – line sentence by the Court of Appeals’ Chief and Those Two Other Good Ol’ Boys whom Donnellson brought in on their sign – off ‘affirmation’ of High Courtier’s ‘butcher’ing ruling so has! Fucking hell yes! It has surfaced and seen the light of many, many a day! Over and over and over this second appeal’s ‘entire’ legal decision –– laid out, of course, inside those three men’s one sentence only –– has wormed itself into the final outcomes of ‘other mothers’ cases’ in the state of Iowa. As a matter of fact, nearly every time a custody war has since arisen to the Court of Appeals or to the level even of Iowa’s Supreme Court, there at least somewhere inside that other mother’s decision and oftentimes multiply so referenced, the legal consequence of “In re the Marriage of Edinsmaier v True” … is cited. Usually the use of it, that is the reference to –– ‘my case’ –– is in connection –– almost always, I am thinking, –– as to how monstrous the child’s or children’s mother is as one who disaffects … daddee. That is to say, according to ‘the Courts’, mother is just another parental alienator, er, ah, no, she is just another paternal alienation syndrome sickie! Never –– never anywhere inside these ‘other mothers’ cases’ is The Dissent of ‘my case’ … known. Nor, particularly, is known … the history behind how The Dissent even came to be: Two appellate judges out of the three total, Shawshank and Crowrook, a woman and then a man, a quite young man just on the bench less than four months, ruled for me to win back full custody of Mirzah, Jesse and Zane thereby overturning and reversing any district court – judge! and any other first – appeal orders! That is, I WON! I WON! I WON! And that this opposition outcome soooo, so fuckingly pissed off that third, lone (and First Appeal’s) decider, Patriarch Donnellson, that he grabbed two other subordinate, k(no)w – nothing men –– –– suddenly making the total number of persons, now, meting out the mother – fucking ‘justice’… five judges! The two with their knowledge of the law and of nature for me –– –– but out of the chief man’s freakin’, mother – fucking whimsy, there were ––instantly –– against me … three men … wanting this fucked mother to continue to … LOSE !!! So –– the trio simply and androcentrically and patriarchally … made that happen! “But. But. But. This? –– This feminist state of affairs,” the Biggy Chiefy Alone decided, “this threatening feminist, … this feminist, atheist mama, …. Oooo, she canNOT. NOT. NOT just WIN! THINK what a State’s precedent that would set!” So? So … what had been Dr. Legion True’s WINNING by 2 to 1 !!! –– SUDDENLY and ANDROCENTRIALLY / PATRIARCHALLY –– became … became Dr. Herod Edinsmaier’s WINNING 3 to 2, er, … Dr. Legion True’s, that is, SUDDENLY LOSING –– AGAIN –– … 3 to 2! Nooooowhere around anymore at all is the 2 to 1 WIN for … MAMA! She? Mama? Why, THAT is the Mother – Fucking. She? Mama? She be mother – fucked! Nooooo “judicial accountability”! ZERO! There is something major here relative to all of these other mothers and their wars because of The Dissent’s announcement of THE PRECEDENT of ‘my case’ … of Legion True’s case. And they, the mamas, don’t even know it. You can bet that their attorneys don’t even care to know it either, let alone, to research it enough to explain it all, nor even merely to admit it, to their mothering clients: They, these women? THEY ARE NOW SUBJECT TO, precedent – wise because of The Dissent’s failure to legally end up as THE TRUE MAJORITY OPINION THAT IT ACTUALLY HAD BEEN, … these women are now subject to … THE ENTIRE LOSS … of ANY and EVERY RIGHT to ANY and ALL of THEIR CHILDREN JUST BECAUSE … JUST BECAUSE … JUST BECAUSE … SHE FUCKING PISSES HIM, daddee – dearest, OFF. Just because of THIS ALONE! THAT is of what this American state’s appellate – level, steam – rolling patriarchy has made certain … TO KEEP THIS IN ITS PLACE! And … SOLIDLY. As I stated, most of the time at least the mothers don’t know it, I am thinking. Still. In the newest millennium! In the 21st Century! THAT is all going to change, Jury: IT IS –– NOW –– MY JOB, MY ACCOUNTABILITY and MY DUTY to MAKE FUCKING DAMNED CERTAIN that THEY, THE MAMAS … DO NOW KNOW IT. Elie Wiesel once stated that … “Whoever SURVIVES the test … MUST … tell the story. It is her DUTY.” This, to me, is more major than –– –– than … any other dehumanization and cultural negative anywhere and over all of time. And DEFINES the reflection and the consequences, the future, Worldwide, of all wrongs everywhere: The World does? No! The World does drastically fuckingly by all of … No! No! No! No, the World’s men … do –– knowingly and willingly –– drastically fuckingly by all of its females, starting, of course, with its littlest: its baby girls. With, of course, the help of the male – identified Mehitables of their World! Their own daughters. Sex – selective abortion. Female infanticide. IF bambina is allowed to live at all, why then, the little girl –– over most of patriarchy –– eats last and least so is up to multiple times more likely to suffer malnutrition than is her brother. And work? Hell, work?! Work = that ‘thing’, for example, which is Herry’s ruin, his friggin’ death sentence (if Legion True herself isn’t ‘it’, that is)! Why, work is definitely her thing to do? Whether it is in the fields, in the home or in the factories –– that is definitely, and often only, the little girl’s duty, for christ’s sake. And when sick? Well, medical care is purposefully not sought for her; and she is less likely than her brother is … to receive childhood immunizations and … that all important biggest deal … ever: EDUCATION! After all, she might! She might, you know! She just might then recognize the injustice and man’s inhumanity to woman –– if she were … educated! If she were learned! And then, pissingly, she just might come to want that injustice, well, you know, Jury, … rectified, mightn’t she?! She just might, if she got a lick of schooling, be, O, well, say, … fuckin’ morally outraged by it all! And all of this? Why all of this leads to only one outcome of which we all know: This –– this preponderance of independence and egalitarian humanization of her –– and all that it means and brings to her –– is going to eventually … PISS HIM OFF! Whoever the him is; it ceases to matter when the ‘it’ of it all is a she, a female of any color, of any size and of any shape. And I am not even –– not even –– going to go further (than stating) into any of the heinous crimes that, if the gender were FLIPPED and REVERSED, would never even, one time, … would never even be considered doable, let alone, “cultural” or “religious” to little boys or to adolescent ones or to grown men: incest, rape, foot – rotting (often once called foot – binding), clitoridectomy, stoning to death, piling her living, breathing self onto forced – husband’s burning pyre, etc, etc and yada, yada. Just picture it, can you? FLIPPED. REVERSED. Just how friggin’ many and just how freakin’ fast do you suppose it would be, … just how short a time would it take … before an utter and entire END would be put to, O, say, … … penisectomies?! Just how many men, including, you know Jury, “holy” hoo – hahs, would let that “act” go on –– on little, itty bitty boys, for example, all’s the while, though, simultaneously and “lovingly” terming it … ‘tradition’ or ‘culture’ or ‘religious rite’… for, say, half a second’s time frame?! And another one: male – child infanticide. How long would that ‘religious rite’ last? Throughout the entire friggin’ course of remotely prehistoric and recently written history, how many hours’ worth of the murdering of male newborns would go by?! And you don’t want the wee boy to lose his way or even to run down to the end of the lane now, do you, let alone roamingly ramble across the World and away from where you, daMan, “need” him to do his day’s chores and duties now –– so let’s just make certain that –– forever –– his little, itty bitty baby footsies, are, you know Jury, O, … ‘bout three inches long! Like I said, “Make them that cropped like, O, … forever! And make sure, too, that those toes of his, … what’s left of them anyhow, … stink! With the foulest of odors which, when it clings to and follows him all around everywhere, also just happens to putrefy to the highest heavens –– just the way sheep foot rot does out in the pastures on those green hillsides which he, their shepherd, works every morning.” How likely is he, the 14 – year – old, the still so – growing and lively testosteronal example of teenaged human hunk to ever throw himself onto her, his elderly wife’s sickened and now dead, burning body? On to her ‘fun’eral pyre?! Just how likely is Kiddo to do this, do you think, Jury?! So. So when they, these little girls, grow up and eventually end up in ‘the court’ as sooo, so many mamas who have even just a wee, itty bitty bit pissed off The Blessèd Patriarchy … will, … then, then … THIS MOTHER – FUCKING is exactly and only what we all should KNOW –– aforehand –– WILL BE the LEGAL DEFAULT ruling and, therefore, also known as … … The LAW. Cuz dissents? Well, dissents do not. not. not make it … right. A dissent –– even a mighty fine one –– rendered on mama’s behalf and, actually, in direct defiance of a wheeling – and – dealing, black – robed, pontificating pontiff so androcentrically comfortable in crookedly and fraudulently patterning his own pillaredness after that of Dr. Herod Edinsmaier’s, will not –– WILL NOT –– matter. It will NEVER count. But unlike the funky and fancy Good and Wonderful Healer, Pillared Herry Edinsmaier, had once penned in his own Eight Pages’ handwriting when apparently fantasizing on hooking up with Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive, Mr. Allen Donnellson –– outright named like any other ordinary person and not bowed down to with all manner of highfalutin titling as if he were some god – like superhuman –– was not in the slightest ever worried … “that others will learn the Truth about me” !!! and what daJudge had opprobriously gone off and done. Because! BECAUSE … nobody –– except for the fact of and by way of materialization of this one, fucked mother’s … by way of Legion True’s … journaling saga –– nobody ever, ever, ever … would have! Nooooo “judicial accountability”! ZERO! It is to this fact –– this journaling saga –– that I search out all of those other Iowa mothers, and those in other states and countries as well, whose Mehitables and AmTahams have failed them. It isn’t too late yet –– though nearly so –– in her adulthood and her own motherhood to begin to learn to protect not only her own Babes but … her own Self! To this day, not one member of ‘my birth family’ knows of this Iowa appellate court’s Dissent –– nor how it came to be … its history. That is, they do not know … not because Dr. Legion True wouldn’t have shared it to them, … I would have. I soooo, so would have. And it is public knowledge: All of it is public and accessible information –– even from the internet. It is not known to them because: None, … not even a one of them, cared to know –– ever. … Ever. Not even one time did Sterling, my lone brother, … there as he was that arguing day of 07 June 1994, choose of his own volition to bother to ask me, “Legion, could I hear the details of, say, The Final Ruling by that Appeals Court? What the hell did they say anyway? How was this all okay with them? They’re judges, for chris’sake. How’d they justify judging it all out in the end? Ya’ know, deciding all of it the way that they did?!” Uh – uh. Not from Sterling. Not from Mehitable. Nothing –– nothing at all from Mehitable. Except for the woman’s perpetual whines regarding how it had been such a massive effort on her part, … “on your mother’s part,” … to have even made it there to the state’s Capitol Building –– no matter, apparently, that ‘my mother’ chose, when she arrived there, to symbolically sit her gargantuan self down upon Son – In – Law Herry’s supporting side of that appellate court’s fear – filled room! AmTaham was dead, of course. And Ardys and Endys? The last I’d heard (and, actually, the first I had heard from Endys in over 35 years !!! because of Mehitable’s hiding of her –– from everyone !!!) … the last I’d heard from either one of my two sisters was around the Winter Solstice Y2004, my 57th and AmTaham’s 85th birthdays, of course. Ardys the Pious, Ardys the Sanctimonious, er, I mean Ardys the Elder, sent this admonishing fuck with which to personally scold me inside her “happy” holiday card of that latest year … which bore on its envelope not only a madonna ‘n’ chil’ – type postage stamp but also the card manufacturer’s inscribed and entirely capitalized message within of, “MAY YOU ENJOY HIM IN ALL HIS FULLNESS THIS CHRISTMAS SEASON.” The funniest, though, and in her own fingers’ script were two scripturally christian citations followed by Ardys’ own personal, menacing and terrorizing foreboding to me. Noooo dithering from Androcentrically Identified Ardys! The first line which her hand (I imagined it must’ve, at the time, been balled up into a solid, rock – hard fist!) wrote in black ink was taken from the parchment of ( … and written there about a thousand or so years ago! by … ) some ordinary guy named John who’d labeled his thought as item #1:1 – 5 and apparently quoted by her from John “exactly” as: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through Him all things were made; without Him nothing was made that has been made. In Him was life, and that life was the light of men. (NOT the light of WOmen, mind you, NO. Juuuust “men.”) The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it; the darkness has not overcome it.” Secondly, on the card’s insides Ardys continued in dark black pen by way of hopping back to her future that is quite possibly one of her favorite areas in her world, a place that some have named Genesis plus jutting forward a little bit to yet another place those heavy lamentation – like dudes such as Paul called … Corinth. Pauly must have passed this light or lighting or lightning (whatevah) story down by word of mouth (men’s mouths, to be sure!) through about some 30 or 40 generations’ worth, probably more. “Kinda’ like playing the game of ‘telephone,’ ” I am thinking. Of the two combined quotations (Ardys’s poetic license to take … I guess), the Genesis one is ascribed with the classification of item #1:3 and the II Corinthians’ one with the notation of 4:4 – 6. Both together are, again, –– or are they … if the information – passing – along game of telephone and, O say, about a thousand years or more intervened?! … are they quoted “exactly” as somebody or several other somebodies (and not a one of these … women, you can imagine!) decided was patriarchally okay enough to put down on whatever genre of paper folks happened to fashion at the time or onto the moveable type pieces of the 11th Century printing press as, “The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ; who is the image of God. For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.” “Hmmm,” I am thinking, “ … ‘the god of this age … ’. Now just who or what’d that particular god be exactly? In the 21st Century, ya’ know, ‘ … this age … ’? According, of course, to … Ardys?!” Ardys ultimately, that Solstice, crowned her male – (along with her O so male god) – identified self and capped off her package of spiritually christian spit – on – me with her own inked ilk of a blackened presentiment, “There is a great darkness that shadows the hearts and minds of those who have turned away from the Light of the World –– who is Christ the Lord. Be very careful, Legion; your future will be determined by your decisions.” As in, “You are perilously close to The Edge, Witch, of your Eternal Abyss into Hell and Fiery Damnation,” … When first I read this card from Ardys, I finished, for her, … I finished myself right off of that cliff inside my mocking mind. “Ya’ know –– that’ll be, well, Forever! For just ever and ever and ever and ever and ever, O stop already, Woman! Stop!” I guffawed to myself. Maybe when Ardys had sat down to write me from Michigan and from most definitely the perceived safety and security of her husband’s ownership there, she had truly been thinking Husband Herry’s favorite names for me (since Herod Edinsmaier, to me, never could speak my own given name, Legion) –– Cunt and Pussy –– as in “ … to the edge, Cunt, of your Eternal Abyss, Pussy, into …” Maybe not. But probably so –– since good, good and soooo, so male – owned females cannot ever even say those appellations except that they do so at the risk of an eternity of worms moving into their souls. When they die. Or some such. Reality. “ … a great darkness that shadows …,” Ardys really has no fucking idea, does she, about what it all has been like? For me? For Jesse? For Mirzah? For Zane? But, wait, … she does! She does, too, have an idea! “That other sister … Endys; what about her? Truly? Thirty – five years?! You two didn’t know each other for over 35 years?!? Often the two of you lived in the same state, but … but 35 years?!?” I can just hear folks … disbelieving. These same people then would be forgetting, however, Mehitable True’s manner of ‘protecting’ her children. That is to say, a couple of them, for sure –– after Endys and Legion were … adults! That would be Mehitable’s soooo, so easy … hiding … of us two. Thrust and shuffled off, we were, by her two madly waving mother’s arms wildly gesturing toward the west: off into the shut – off bedrooms of her house when the front doorbell rang or a loud knocking came from the basement level’s garage door at the back! Or off at respective universities or other towns so no mention need be made of Legion and Endys –– except to whine on about how little, from afar, these two nasty, naughty daughters paid her heed. When there at her structure –– it was not ‘a home’ –– at the very far edge of the Williamsburg community, it was useless ‘to ask’ at age, say, 23 or at 27; there was no need to wonder if I could even … take a walk uptown. Mehitable’s best hide for me out of all of her male – identified ‘successes’? Disguising Legion True inside the long – ago, pseudo – marriage announcement she had wanted to place into the end – of – December 1976 “society page” of the Williamsburg Journal weekly, “Mr. and Mrs. Herod Edinsmaier visited over the Christmas holidays in the parental home of Mr. and Mrs. AmTaham True and were their dinner guests during the lovely seasonal menus provided by Mrs. AmTa …” Recognize !me! right off or the fact that Herry, not yet graduated from medical school, hence, only dubbed, so far, as a ‘mister’ (and, not yet anyhow, as her pillared and fancily entitled ‘doctor’ son – in – law) and I … had just married on the 18th in Ames … (in a church! –– as a matter of Truth!) of that very month in any of that verbiage now, would you? Legion True was only some man’s cuntly possession … after first … only ever having been, during such a christian time as that calendar’s era, as well as always before that, … someone else’s child. Legion True was not in there anywhere! And that, of course, was Mehitable’s whole point. Completely hidden from view … was I. And in plain sight, too! so to speak. Nosily or otherwise –– including, possibly, quite genuine interest in me and in my comings and goings and thinkings and doings –– perhaps, for example, in my brand – new marriage at my age in years then of almost 29 already!?! –– poked into at all by any others in the Williamsburg area? Never. Never. And the very same “protection mode” of Mehitable’s was determinedly set in stony concrete for all of those some 35 years for Endys … the very same one. Mehitable’s was a bulwark of safekeeping or of secretive guardianship; hey, call it a custody arrangement! –– because while not exactly like the custody – arranging Mother – Fucking onto me by all of ‘the courts’, hers most certainly was of the precise nature of a prison’s “protective custody” for adult persons! Hers projected externally far, far and wide, of course. But, most evilly, Mehitable, our own mother!, calculatingly and cleverly crept and wove it in and out of all aspects and phases of our lives with each other, with our comings and goings … specifically among us four, grown siblings! “After all,” Mehitable whimperingly did dither to me in my young adulthood time and time and time again –– no differently than with any islamic / muslim ‘honor’able fucking – over of only daughters within a family –– when there were only the two of us alone together in her kitchen, “your father and I have to live in this small community. We just can’t afford to have you and your sister bringing shame down around us all the time! We just can’t! You don’t have to put up with it at all. You get to go away every time, but I have to be here and live here and know who you are!” The other favorite shunning and shaming slam of hers was, “You’re such a disappointment to me, Legion! Why?! Why, why, O, why can’t you … ” and then Mehitable would end that particular ‘disappointment’ – statement with whichever fault of mine happened to be fuckingly pissing her off the most at that specific moment. Like, “ … why can’t you bring home a wealthy, fine – mannered, manly man, ya’ know, one with a splendid stature and reputation? And from the right side of the tracks, too?!” or “ … why can’t you just get used to jewing the big money outta those pet owners who want you to transplant kidneys or something in their prize pussies?!” or “ … why don’t you know how bad those Japs are?! They tried to kill your dad, for heaven’s sake!” Or, “… why can’t you just leave me be?! They’re ‘nigger toes’ if I say they’re ‘nigger toes’,” as she, from time to time, cracked open another Brazil nut over all of those godly and so sacred hours around the 25th of December! She actually did. Mehitable, in fact, did use that racial epithet –– and repeatedly! She truly did use the word ‘Jew’ –– often … and right in front of Mirzah, Zane and Jesse, too –– as a fucking verb she did! I actually never did hear this woman state the ethnicity as … ‘Japanese’. People native to that specific island were only ever referred to by Mehitable as ‘Japs’ or, as often, ‘those Japs’. Even when I asked her not to. Even when I begged her not to say such loathing appellations –– begged her not to, knowingly, commit such hate crimes –– in front of my children. So. From one time to the next one, I have finally analyzed this first statement of my mother’s through enough replays in my brain to have finally heard it. Understood it. Truly, Mehitable was saying, “I have to know you.” It was she! It wasn’t everyone else in town or even anyone else from whom she was perpetually hiding me: it was from herself. It was from herself whom she was hiding me. She loathed me so much. Me hit able so hated the me whom she herself had not molded and that I had, alone on my own, become. She hated me so very, very much that she dealt with The Shame of her construed ‘parenting’ failure –– by hiding from herself the source of her mortification –– me. And Endys. We two were so not perfect. Instead, we were humiliating to her –– and, therefore, only to be hidden away. And we were. Indeed, so we were –– physically, verbally in every form known, and emotionally –– in every way possible! Only Mehitable’s death wherein those worms did slither on in and take over her essence in August Y2003, brought a stoppage, a collapse, an end to this mother’s “protecting”. Mehitable True, my own mother lo my 50 – some odd years had in no uncertain terms secured for me, her third baby child, not one wee ounce of “protection” from men who mother – fuck. And since Mehitable had not been (the least, little, itty bitty bit) successful, either, in over half an entire century’s worth of working so weightily at me, and ‘the Court’ Majority’s Dissention (yet, of course, with its instantaneous override by those three, entitled and soooo, so pillared men entirely bent upon Their NOT – to – be – Dicked – With Mother – Fucking) had not resulted in a Legion True who was herself finally … soft, servile and deferent, … why, I went looking for and found … Endys. It wasn’t easy. Finding her. Endys, when found, was not in a good place. Hard times had beset –– but just within the duration of the very most recent 18 months or so that’d gone by, that is to say, for about a half a year before Mehitable died and the entire 12 months following that, an event after which my liberator – attending – it – with – me (there’s safety in numbers, you know, Jury … ) and so – close – friend Rachel helped humor me with her wit and the sarcasm of, “Hmm, your brother Sterling so knows how, doesn’t he, Legion, to put the ‘fun’ back in … ‘fun’eral?” Till I had concertedly reconnected. In the last half of Y2004. At Endys’s age of 53. She still resided in eastern Iowa although a half an hour’s drive up the interstate. Hard times now. Fired in early 2003, from her State of Iowa medical transcription position at the University of Iowa Hospital and Clinics. Real reason unknown. Unknown to me, that is, although I have my suspicions. Endys’s stated reason to me for her summary dismissal, a booting without reinstatement eligibility privileges nor one cent of retirement accruals, was caused by her “missing too much work.” Throes of vastly out – of – control bipolar, losing (and rapid, eventual loss of) both her apartment and the late – model yet underwater car, paroxysms of bilateral lower extremity physical pain, “fleeting and stabbing” but apparently “continuous, too,” she’d stated. Enough so as to keep her, daily, off of her feet almost entirely –– watching the tube or just sitting. Sprawled – like … as would be a beached whale … was my observation. With no interest in reading –– but not because her eyeballs wouldn’t hold still –– as my own would not when I had been forced, by doctors and lawyers and judges and sheriffs ... and one criminal ex – husband also hell – bent upon His Torturing and Twisted Mother – Fucking of me, … … when I had been forced to consume dope. I asked. She had replied to me, “I just don’t want to read. Got that?!” A right elbow which constantly seemed to pain her, too; so not exactly … as is common among transcriptionists … was this localized ache due to carpal tunnel syndrome. Massively obese –– probably from between 250 to 300, if one visually estimated poundage; “morbidly” so Dr. Herod Edinsmaier’s medical term for her personage would pathologically be. Evidently present – day episodes also of such wild spending that creditors were now bloodthirsty bloodhounds: personal bankruptcy loomed in Endys’s very immediate future –– her only alternative. … She possessed hardly a thing. All manner of what had been her small number of owned items were so cockroach and itty bitty roachie – egg – infested that they nearly all had had to be pitched. This much Endys did recognize. More cockroaches than I myself had ever even seen … in anything New York City – tenement – wise! One month bedded down in one, thoroughly smoky poorhouse before, more permanently, settling in on the 01st day of December 2004, … “for as long as I wanna be,” she flat – affected, almost inaudibly so, at a second one. And, there, “to be taken care of” in this “assisted – living facility” with all psychiatrists’ visits and all medications’ costs picked up, of course, by the county, her same county, after all, of previous long –, longstanding residence. Ten days later, I broached with Endys the topic of what I figured was –– –– soooo about my time to do so! Five months I, her only sibling to care to do so … and with the most willing aid of my sons, Zane and Jesse, by then in their late 20s and university students there in Iowa City, … had served as this person’s shepherdess with all that that had meant … for an adult of 53 years of age. Now? Now, I wanted to know stuff. And, I am thinking, “That is my due. Just that.” Nothing more did I want from Endys but history, er, herstory! My herstory. I had, one exact week earlier, telephoned to her at Chestnut Rising to ascertain that she, indeed, felt secure. She did –– right then at least. And perhaps for the first time in just about ever. Awful as that may truly be … shut up inside the Rising. But Endys was finally … finally … I mean finally … off the streets and interstates –– as vehicle operator! “I jus’ gotta have wheels!” I had remembered hearing this person declaring each night before sleep came to me. At last, Endys was no longer driving –– and, therefore, herself not falling asleep at the wheel! ! ! from the drugs or from whatever else had caused her to do so, a blatant and such startling, outright admission of Endys’s to me! ! ! on the very first day of our reconnection back in July –– which had totally rocked my psyche. Getting this dangerous driver stopped had proved to be a job for me five months in the offing, but I had finally accomplished at least that for all of the other mamas motoring their families around out there in eastern Iowa! And … before … Endys had actually damaged anyone … including herself. Around 8:00 o’clock on a Friday evening a couple of weeks before some folks’ alleged biggy day of annual, godly rebirthing, it was the 10th of December then, when I chose to telephone again to Chestnut Rising and to speak to Endys, … this contact specifically to discuss –– for the very, very first time inside those five, reconnecting months –– me! The worker who answered said she knew exactly where Endys was right then –– in front of the television on the lower level –– so her page would be direct and Endys would be taking my call momentarily. Yeah? That so did not happen. A full four minutes of my open wire detecting dormitory – like sounds passed by before I heard a louder shuffling with receiver – fumbling, then at last … the flattest of hellos. I knew the voice was hers. “Hi, Endys. It’s Legion.” I always, always, always address a person by either their first or titled last names or by how it is that they have stated they want to be recognized and acknowledged. Always … I have this (most minimal amount of) respect for the other persons in any conversation –– at the very least. Narcissist Edinsmaier, himself “always a teacher,” sooo never wanted to have me “teach” him … this, did he, Jury?!? “I know.” I could barely hear her. Same as always on the telephone. So often in the weeks before, I had asked her to be louder, to enunciate and to project into the receiver. What deafened Legion True had never asked Endys to do was to remember to vocalize and to articulate using those same functions the next time she found herself in any dialoguing exchange with me! On the phone or in person! I had never asked her ––let alone, demanded from Endys, also the Herry – like narcissist, … that she think about me instead of … only about herself! “So. How’s it going with you –– tonight, Endys?” “I’m okay.” “Well, good! That’s good! Ah, Endys, I was wondering, um, I’ve been wondering, you know, during the, um, O, maybe the last 15 years or so, um, just what exactly you happened to know about me and, ah, ya’ know, about Zane and Jesse and … ‘nd Mirzah?” I purposefully put, for her, the Truemaier Boys’ names in their respective ages’ order, from eldest to youngest, of course –– as too, too many parents never seem to be able to break themselves away from doing. Which they so should! But I did not want to confuse the issue with her just then! The ‘issue’ which was … me and them and what the fuck had happened to us –– according to Endys’s information! According to what she –– as full sister to me and as aunt to the Boys –– should have known, I am thinking! Right away, a fairly loud and most audibly comprehensible tin – ear response returned to me, “O, I am suuuuure you didn’t call me just to talk about thaaaaat, now did you?!?!” To which I replied too, too meekly to truly be me anymore, “Well, actually, Endys, now that you’re okay and getting the help you need and it’s been, ah, five months since I’ve reconnected with you, I really would like to know what it is … that you knew. History – wise, I mean. I would like to know about what was out there in our family floating around as to exactly what was happening –– over all of those years –– to my Boys and to me.” “Well, I don’t know anything.” “Ah, nothing? Nothing?! Cuz, well, aaah, I was … I was DYING, Endys. DYING! For YEARS and YEARS and YEARS, Endys! Nine months I sat in a rocking chair after the Boys were taken. Just rocked and rocked and rocked and rocked. At the end of the month I got up out of it … to pay the bills and then went right back into the rocking chair again. Nine months, Endys! Then I got up out of that sweet chair and went out and got work. I was living without heat inside. Six winters. Four months each winter. In Iowa. 37 – degree temperatures. I took showers in 37 – degree temperatures indoors, Endys! Two alarm clocks. One to get me up at 2:30 in the morning to run all of the faucets and to flush all of the drains. And then I raced home every four hours during the daytime to do the same thing. Every lunch hour. Day after day after day after day, Endys. That headline article in the local Ames paper in 1990? See that one? Did you see that one, Endys?” “Yeah, I did. Well, not ‘see’ it, Mom told me about it being on the front page. So if you were just rocking, then who paid your bills for you?” Fuck! It was like Endys was querying me with this thought for her own livelihood! … instead of about anything that had truly gone on … with me! “Hhmmm, okay, now –– now let me get this straight: If you didn’t have to work to pay for stuff, then somebody else’s money must’ve paid for everything for ya’ –– so, so –– now if I jus’ believe in the power of magic pixie dust or some such notion or some such potion a – sprinklin’ down upon me, why, all’s I’ll have to do, –– too, –– is just sit in a chair! Like I already do!!! But I’ll get to watch TV all the time. And, ‘nd what’s even better: I won’t have to worry ‘bout any little kids at the same time, let alone, actually do anything about them, since –– since, ah, ah… I ain’t got any!” Not a word from her, not even one question from Endys about that libelous newspaper slop which Shyster Shindy Scheisser and Nottingham Sheriff Fannie Issicran McLive had both been decreed by King Herod to make appear nearly everywhere … once Pillared Edinsmaier had first succeeded in having it published on the Ames Tribune’s front page and emblazoned there with the headline of just how mother – fuckingly crazy Legion True … ‘truly’ was! Not one, little, itty bitty bit of interest in that savagery, that crime of the Great and Wonderful Doctor Herod Edinsmaier’s was forthcoming to me at all … from Endys! I simply answered her question about the money instead, “Well, I … I HAD … savings, Endys! I cashed in my short – term cds and all of my bonds. Even the IRAs, Endys. Had to pay the penalties for doing so, too, of course. Ya’ know, the savings one puts away in the good times FOR just exactly such times, Endys. FOR the bad times. THAT money!” I forced the crime and thuggery issue just a wee bit more though, “And that article was cut out and circulated all over. To my places of possible professional employment including costing me a veterinary position –– and career!!! –– I’d already been offered at the NADC!” “The NADC?” “Yeah, the National Animal Disease Center. That article went out, too, Endys, to specific principals of the Boys’ schools`. In Urbandale and all the way to all of their schools, every single one of them, in West Virginia. Sent or given out by Herry, his lawyer and his next wife! This went on for years!” I tried ever so hard with myself to keep my voice’s timbre quite even – keeled. Now I have no idea why I did that. Why had I even bothered to be so careful with Endys and her feelings. Except that I knew at the time of the telephone conversation, I am thinking that Endys must be picking up –– if just from my intonation alone –– on the meaning of all of the heinousness and on all of the violence of everything which I was recounting to her and that all of that, as it had soooo done to me, could somehow … hurt … her. Could somehow cause Endys some manner of harm. And I didn’t want that. I continued vigilantly, “I couldn’t get any information from the Boys’ teachers or their doctors or from anyone who might’ve even known them for just a little bit. I had four jobs. Four at one time. To pay Herry child support for children I couldn’t even … TALK … to, Endys! Herry even lost three of the support checks, so NOT badly did he NOT need the money! Four YEEEEARS, Endys, I went without speaking to ANY ONE of my sons cuz, well, I just couldn’t get through to them. I couldn’t get passed Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive or that daughter of hers for them to come to the telephone to me, and those two’d never, never let me talk to Herry. Even to just beg him. And Herry had threatened the Boys if they tried to call me. Threatened to take away things from them. Privileges, ya’ know. Other stuff. You had to have known something! That something was wrong, Endys! So where, ah, just exactly WHERE, … where WAS my family for me? Ya’ know, the ones like my sisters and my mother and my brother who were supposed to’ve gone to The Mat and to The Ends of the Earth for me? Where WERE you all?! I am a good person. WHERE WAS my family for me!?” It struck! It roared! THE ANSWER. Suddenly, lightning – fast. And without any warning. “NO! NO! No you’re NOT!” “Wha’? ‘Not’ what? I’m ‘not’ what, Endys?” “YOU’RE NOT EITHER A GOOD PERSON! You’re just a sinner! You need to be redeemed. Redeemed, I tell you! Have you even read the Bible, Legion! You need to be redeemed! And Mom said you had two jobs. Just two jobs. And why did you work at places without heat anyhow?” She actually used the word ‘redeemed’ specifically in reference to me three times! “No, not ‘worked at,’ Endys. I told you: I lived like this in order to pay Herry child support. Just the pilot light alone on the furnace burned up $15 a month right there so I simply put it out and never lit it again until I was finally done paying him. In 1997 –– after Mirzah turned 18 that late September. 81 straight months of payments. Never late, Endys; I was always early! And, ‘nd the checks? –– The checks were always in full!” “Well, Herry was just a bonehead and tricked you.” I couldn’t believe my ear. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was at a fucking loss by now. I am thinking, “Excuuuuuse me??! Wha’??!” Instead, I replied still too, too damned calmly, “A bonehead? A bonehead, Endys!?? That’s like calling Osama bin Laden a bonehead or Adolf Hitler a bonehead. Herry was a freakin’ thug, a terrorist, a savage and a criminal, Endys! WHERE WAS my family to try to help me protect myself and my kids?!!!” Over and over and over, Endys the Younger displayed absolutely nooooo, none, zip, zilch, zero … outrage … on my behalf! Then … in the course of the ensuing conversation and my attempt to elicit from her any knowledge at all of her take about the most recent decade and a half’s worth of my history, Endys suddenly and caustically demanded, “Now LISTEN and DON’T INTERRUPT me!” THAT?! That was it. My response to that was automatic and utterly immediate and, I believe, put into me by my therapist and my friend and that guru who, not that long ago, saved my spirit, Mr. Keith Log, of right here in Ames: I laid the receiver back down onto its cradle –– –– and walked away from the telephone. By a family member or by an ex – family constituent not my own Boys, I had not been spoken to –– in that manner –– since Mehitable lived and, before that, since ‘lovely’ lone brother Sterling and his screaming mere millimeters away from my only hearing ear on the day of AmTaham’s dying. And, of course, not since … Herry. By any other family member, let alone, from my very own sister, I could not permit that toxin, that poison –– not even its littlest drops’ worth of venom –– to be aspersed onto my essence and my energy again. My blood will not be dirtied, will not be contaminated by that type of blood anymore, full sibling to me –– or not! Along with Endys’s previous, recent wild spending, her apparent grandiose ideas of superiority and what she was worth, of what she, for that matter, was actually worthy of having materially, and of my earlier witnessing about her bankruptcy filing such shallowness and flippancy, I could not abide that at her age of 53, she had, for herself on her own, developed in over three decades of adulthood no more knowledge, no more self – discipline and no more self – restraint –– just in financial matters alone, for example, let alone, in social conversation with her long –, long – time, unheard – from sister who had first taken months of effort and cost to see to Endys’s own security, –– she had no more … than what I had been hearing that night and observing in the five months before that! Even if Endys does have bipolar –– any genre of it, it was not the bipolarity speaking to me on that Friday evening so soon before the most recent December’s batch of christianizing and proselytizing: that –– is –– Endys. This? –– This from all components of the people who know themselves to have been the immediate members of what was left of My Birth Family which amounted to … all of them … except for AmTaham –– after that argument date of 07 June 1994, and those ruthless black robes filled up with flowy hollow and ghostly but so pillared –– and mightily unchecked, thoroughly unaccountable –– men who couldn’t wait to do me, Legion True, DEhuman, –– to do me in. For good. Via this Second and Final Appeal … Part Five! No matter The True Majority of ‘the Court’ in its operatically ignored and, thus, so inconsequential … Dissent. * * * * All Five Parts … now completed! The Opera ended? Its fat lady –– Justice –– all sung out? … Hardly so.