Donald J. Trump, you’re fired!

21 Oct

I often think Donald Trump is trying to lose. I used to watch The Apprentice and Celebrity Apprentice, and a couple of years ago I might have thought he was a viable candidate. But he is atrocious as a public speaker and if he has a diplomatic brain cell, it’s been killed by all the bologna he eats.  He’s shocked me so many times over the past year or so, starting with his sore-loser low-blow behavior when sponsors pulled support and he was fired by NBC, and it’s gotten worse every week.

It seems as if when alone with his thoughts he must be trying to figure out a way to get out of this and still have a brand worth anything.  What could he possibly say thatyou-re-fired-rubber-stamp-43311040 will ensure he loses–he does not act like someone who really wants to be POTUS.

I think he’s terrified of the job. He seems to be sabotaging his campaign. If an apprentice candidate behaved the way he has, he would have fired himself long ago!


Improving America’s Police Force

26 Sep glock40caliber

After a grueling two weeks as Juror #6 in the civil suit Banta v. Walnut Creek et al, there is a lot to say about what went wrong that led to the unnecessary fatal shots to young Anthony Banta.  The jury was only asked to judge if the second volley of shots fired by Sgt. Sugrue and Officer Ezard were excessive use of deadly force.

First, thoughts about the jury.  Eight people were selected.  I don’t know why we did not have twelve, and there were no alternatives.  We assumed it was agreed to by both parties, and our focus was on the single issue put before us.  The jury selection process was excellent, in my opinion, though this is the first time I have ever been through the process.  A group of 40 to 50 people were screened.

Throughout the trial we were instructed not to discuss the case with each other or anyone else.  To my knowledge, all of us obeyed the rules.  Until the moment jury deliberation began, the only comments we had were about the jury selection experience and our thankfulness that this judge seemed to be very good – he kept the trial moving forward with minimal redundancy.  Attorneys for both parties were repeatedly told to move on when witnesses had already been asked and had answered questions more than once in different ways, and he was fair and respectful about correcting questions when the questions posed were convoluted.

As to why we the jury were only allowed to decide on the second volley of shots, I cannot speak for others, but I was very dissatisfied about that.  A lot of things went wrong that night, and I believe with all my heart Anthony’s death could have and should have been prevented.

None of us believed that Anthony lunged toward the officers.  At most, he tried to get up, after the first volley shattered his right femur and injured his left shoulder.  Was there time for the officers to regroup and try a different tactic to safely take him into custody?  Yes, there was.  The only reason that the feather came down on the scale for the defendants (the two officers who fired the second volley) was because it was more probably true that the officers believed two victims upstairs might be bleeding to death after they were engaged in a struggle and the line went dead (the call to 911 was disconnected).

The only evidence that the officers might have known the two people upstairs were okay, was that the dispatcher had said, before they entered the unit, “suspect is known to them, his name is Anthony.”

We learned that Anthony was 5 feet 5 inches according to the Coroner’s Report, and approximately 130 pounds.  He was petite.

I was never convinced that the four officers who responded to the 911 call were forthcoming about their memories of that night.  All four gave a different version of events and there were a lot of “I don’t recall” answers.  The excuse for that was, as it always is, that it all happened very fast and they had a lot of adrenalin in their systems.  But let me interject here, because I have been through traumatic events when my life was in immediate danger and everything happened very fast, and for me, forty years later, every detail is as clear as if it happened yesterday.  So I don’t buy “I don’t recall” and I do not believe that they told the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  As a juror, it is my right and my duty to decide whether or not a witness is telling the truth.  So I am stating for the record, I did not and do not believe the officers told the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  I hope that puts the fear of Karma in them.  We all reap what we sow.  There is a justice system that no one can escape forever.

Why, then, did I vote to excuse them for the second volley of shots?  Because there was no evidence or testimony proving that they knew going in that the two people upstairs were okay.  If they did know that they were okay, there was no reason to rush.  One of the expert witnesses, Roger Clark, testified that in his experience (and he has a lot) the officers could have and should have put some distance between themselves and the suspect, that they did have time and were morally and legally obligated to re-assess the situation and try a less lethal way of disarming the young man.  As he described it, “Distance plus cover equals time.”  There were four handguns ready to fire, was it really necessary to shoot?  In my judgment, having heard all the testimony and having looked at the forensic evidence, it was not.

As I stated in my blog immediately after the verdict, the only reason I conceded that it was reasonable is that it seemed more probably true that they believed the two people upstairs could be bleeding to death.

There were four officers who entered the apartment and crowded at the bottom of the stairs with four guns pointed at one little man with a big knife.  I will grant them that it was scary.  I will grant them that a big knife can be thrown and can maim you.  But why did all four of them crowd at the bottom with guns ready to fire?  Was that necessary?  Shouldn’t the commander, Sgt. Sugrue, tell one of them to try to find out if the people upstairs were bleeding or okay?

One of the officers was trained in psychology and crisis intervention tactics.  Instead of practicing her training, she and Sgt. Sugrue yelled repeatedly at the suspect, who was obviously not in touch with reality.  I believe that Sgt. Sugrue reacted to the suspect as an “intruder on drugs”.  If I am to believe every word out of his mouth, it never occurred to him that the suspect might be deaf or having a mental breakdown.

Sgt. Sugrue described Anthony’s appearance as “zombie like” and “crazy” eyes and said it was the scariest thing he had ever seen, even in horror movies.  Note that he spent time in Iraq and had other military experience.  I sincerely doubt that this little guy’s “crazy” eyes is the scariest thing he’s ever seen.  I suggest he has PTSD and should be required to learn how to manage it better.  From what I saw and heard while he was on the witness stand, being a patrol officer on the graveyard shift is probably not the best use of his skills and bravery.

Long story short, I am very disappointed in the way this whole situation was bungled, from the moment the 911 call was received to the way the officers failed to diffuse the crisis.  I am writing this because I want to see improvements across the country in the mandatory training and procedure guidelines for handling a mental health crisis.  What happened to Anthony Banta could happen to any of us, any young adult, any teenager.  Our peace officers must be better trained and better equipped.  How about tranquilizer darts?  They work for tigers and bears!

I hope that the four officers who confronted Anthony Banta’s “crazy” eyes will take it upon themselves to get trained better and practice situations dealing with someone who may be having a mental breakdown.  I also hope that the dispatcher(s) who failed to relay vital information to the officers will learn to listen and communicate better.  The word “sleepwalking” was never mentioned, though it was one of the first things the 911 caller reported, “Anthony is sleepwalking again.”


To Serve and Protect

23 Sep walnut-creek-police-badge

The past two weeks I have been on jury duty.  It was the first summons to jury duty that I have received in my life, I was lucky that way.  I was hoping I would not be selected, but was not going to make a great effort to get out of doing my civic duty.  I had a 2-hour commute through gnarly traffic from Santa Rosa to the federal court building in downtown San Francisco, 65 miles away.  The worst part about this summons was, I found out on the day I reported for Day 1 of jury duty, that it was about a police shooting.  It was a civil case in which the jury would decide whether or not the officers who shot a young man were liable for a wrongful death.  I can barely begin to speak about this trial without tears.

The case was brought by the family of Anthony Banta, 22 years old, killed between 3-4am on December 27, 2012.

There was reason to suspect that excessive use of deadly force was applicable in this case.  It was an extremely difficult determination.  Four officers responded to the 911 call for help.  Here is what happened at approximately 3:20am that night/morning.

It was the day after Christmas.  Anthony and his roommate, Parker, and Parker’s girlfriend, Sarah, had watched “Ted” together (the movie about a talking teddy bear).  After the movie, Sarah and Parker went upstairs to bed around midnight.  Sarah fell asleep immediately, Parker played Madden NFL while sitting in bed.  Hours later she awoke when she felt an elbow or something hit her head, and she saw Anthony on top of Parker, on the bed, straddling him, choking him.  Parker yelled his name several times, saying “Anthony, wake up!” as they struggled and he tried to push him off.  Sarah tried to help push him off, but was tangled in bedding that was pinned down by Anthony’s position.  Eventually Parker managed to push Anthony off and he fell and hit his back real hard and did not react to that at all, he continued to come at Parker.

The struggle continued.  Anthony got Parker in a choke hold and he was fighting for their lives – afraid that if he went unconscious, Sarah would be seriously hurt or killed.  He managed to get Anthony out of the bedroom.  Sarah jumped out of bed and shut and locked the bedroom door and call 911.  She immediately told the dispatcher that Anthony was “sleepwalking again”.  We listened to the entire dispatch call, it was horrific, the terror in her voice and how frantic she was, pleading, “please help us, oh god, please hurry”.  The dispatcher had difficulty understanding her because she was gasping for air and not making sense.  When we listened to it, it was in a calm setting, but for the dispatcher, it must have been hard to understand what was going on – it sounded like they needed a medic and she transferred the call to the Fire Dept.  Meanwhile, Parker and Anthony are downstairs and Parker is still yelling at him, trying to snap him out of it.

Parker testified that Anthony went to the kitchen and opened the drawer where his blue chef knife was kept, and he wrestled with him to stop him from getting the knife.  Upstairs, Sarah was looking for a piece of mail to get the exact street address of this apartment because she only knew how to get there, she did not have the address number memorized, and she was hysterical, afraid at what might be happening outside the door.

Parker managed to open the front door and shoved Anthony outside and locked him out.  He hurried back upstairs and was then able to tell the Walnut Creek Police dispatch a little more, but he too was frantic and out of breath.

Dispatch radioed WCPD patrol officers that they had received a call from a female barricaded in a bedroom or closet and a male with a knife at this unit.  Moments later they informed the officers who were responding to the call, locating the apartment, that there were two people – the female and her boyfriend – locked in the bedroom and a third party with a knife.  The dispatch did mention that the third party was known to them and his name was Anthony, however, the officers did not hear that radio transmission, they were already rushing to the scene, or getting out of their cars, or trying to find the unit, so it seems they really did not know that the man with the knife was not an intruder.

Another transmission told them that there was a struggle going on.  [Edit:  Anthony had broken through the kitchen window and was back at the bedroom door, trying to get in, while Parker and Sarah were using their bodies to hold it shut, the lock was almost completely broken, and the door had a lot of damage on both sides.] Then seconds later, dispatch again reported to the officers responding that “there’s a struggle…the line went dead.”  Now the officers have no line of communication with the people who have been attacked by someone with a knife.

When they arrived at the unit – two officers arrived before the other two – the first two tried to get someone to open the front door – yelled “Police, open the door” and Sgt. Sugrue kicked at the door, but it didn’t open.  Officer Connors noticed a tall window on the left that was busted inward, indicating that someone had broken into the apartment.  She entered through the window and called to Sugrue about that and he followed her in.

These two officers quickly checked the immediate rooms to see if anyone was there, hiding or hurt, and then proceeded to the bottom of the stairs.  At first, they only saw the back side of a man, but eventually Anthony faced them, at the top of the stairs, they were at the bottom, and now all 4 officers were crowded at the bottom, looking up at him, and 3 of them saw the knife in his hand.  It was a big, blue knife.  They questioned briefly if it was a real knife because of the color, but Connors confirmed because her flashlight caught the glint of the sharp edge.  They yelled at him to drop the weapon, drop the knife, show us your hands, drop it and he did not react to their presence in any rational manner.  He looked sweaty, pacing a little, and his eyes were wide and it seemed as if he was looking right through them.

He may have been sleepwalking during a nightmare or having a psychotic episode, or on drugs, whatever the case, he was not complying, and there were two people upstairs behind him who could be bleeding to death.  Sgt. Sugrue yelled “Taser” and Officer Ezard holstered his firearm and got his Taser out and aimed it up the stairs.

The officers saw him move down the stairs with the knife pointed out at them and they fired the first volley of shots and the Taser, and moved to get out of the landing area because he still had the knife and there was so little room at the bottom, he would have landed right on them.  One officer felt a bullet or slap on her leg and it was later discovered that one of the shots fired had gone through the pocket in her cargo pants that had gloves in it.  Officer Ezard was pushed backward and hit the front door with his back and heel, hard enough to leave busted areas on the inside of the door.

Connors, Sugrue and Griffith had managed to get to the side of the stairs and back toward the living/dining area.  Connors radioed “Shots fired”.  All 4 could see Anthony at the bottom of the stairs, but each had a different angle or vantage point.  Ezard was closest and had a more direct line of sight and could see the knife still in his hand.  Sugrue could see the knife, still in his hand.  Connors and Griffith could only see the back of his head and his back and that he was still moving.  None of them saw any blood or evidence of injury.  Anthony rose up with the knife after he was commanded to stay down, and Sugrue and Ezard fired a few shots.  Connors radioed “Shots fired.  Code 3 medical,” meaning the emergency medical team should be ready to enter, but not enter yet – it was still uncertain whether it was safe for them.  A few seconds later, Sugrue radioed “Code 4 medical, start notifications,” meaning it was safe for EMT to enter.

Connors went upstairs to check on the victims.  Sarah and Parker were still locked in the bedroom.  Sarah was crouched in the back of the closet.  Parker was on his knees near the door and his first question was, “Is Anthony okay?”  This is when the officers learned he was their friend, not an intruder, and that he was “not himself”, “that wasn’t Anthony,” he had never done anything like that.

The question before us was whether or not the shots fired at the bottom, the 2nd “volley”, was excessive use of deadly force.  It was a horrendous burden to have to put these pieces together, put ourselves in the shoes of both parties – the Banta family who wants justice for Anthony – did he have to die that night?  Was it necessary for these officers to have their guns pointed at him at the bottom of the stairs.  Was it necessary for them to fire a second time?  Was there another way, a less lethal way, of dealing with this threat?  We all wanted to tell these officers that it was not necessary for Anthony to die that night.  We deliberated passionately and with tears over it.  But the point that caused me – I can’t speak for others – to concede that the 2nd volley was objectively reasonable under the circumstances was that in their minds they had been called to help two people who were likely injured and very probably could be bleeding to death upstairs, and this person with the big knife was not responding in any kind of rational manner to four police with guns aimed at him, commanding him to put down the knife, or to stay down after he had come down at them with the knife.  Every second mattered.  If they had regrouped, spent 10 more seconds re-evaluating and deciding whether to try another Taser or pepper spray or a baton, it might be too late for the victims upstairs – the people who had called for help.

There are many things I could say about what could have been done better, more professionally, but that all had to do with the dispatcher’s handling of the call and relaying of information, the way the officers confronted Anthony when it was initially obvious that he was either on drugs or having a mental breakdown – hallucinating or something – he was not in his right mind, that was obvious – they could have and should have diffused the situation with their voices, but that’s hard to stick to, that judgment, because in the moment, with adrenalin, with the impression that someone who is clearly out of touch with reality, has attacked two people with a knife, and is now facing you with a knife and starts to come down the stairs … hopefully you see that it is only useful in hindsight to ponder what they could have done differently.  All I can say now is that the City of Walnut Creek came very close to an expensive bill for punitive damages.  Had this jury been given the assignment to decide on other aspects of the case, our verdict was likely going to be in favor of the Plaintiff, in my humble opinion.  But the task we were given was only this:

1. Do you believe that the blue knife was still in Anthony’s hand at the bottom of the stairs?  Yes or No

2.  Do you believe that at the bottom of the stairs Anthony was still moving and posed an immediate danger to the officers or others?

(As I said above, I conceded on the point of “immediate danger to others” because if the officers had moved away and tried to re-negotiate with him, the people upstairs who had been attacked might have bled to death, for all they knew – they were sworn to serve and protect, and Anthony was still moving, still non-compliant, and still had the knife in his hand, according to forensic evidence.  So, although I disagreed that he posed an immediate danger to the officers, because they had the opportunity to move away and get another Taser out or use pepper spray or perhaps even attempt to knock the knife out of his hand with a baton…all of those decisions put the victims upstairs at risk, in their minds, two people had been attacked and were probably in need of immediate medical attention which they could not receive until Anthony was in custody.)

3. Do you believe that Sgt. Sugrue violated Anthony Banta’s 4th Amendment rights under the U.S. Constitution?

4.  If yes to the above, do you believe it was done with malicious intent or reckless disregard for life?  (Paraphrasing there, I do not have the exact questions before me now.)

5.  Do you believe that Officer Ezard violated Anthony Banta’s 4th Amendment rights… and question 6, if yes… same as above.

7.  Do you believe that the shots fired at the bottom of the stairs by Sgt. Sugrue were excessive use of deadly force?  (This was a State law question, the above questions 3-6 were Federal issues.)

8.  Do you believe that the shots fired at the bottom of the stair by Officer Ezard were excessive use of deadly force?

The jury was composed of a librarian, a baker, a restaurant owner/manager, an IRS manager, an editor for the Wall Street Journal, a FedEx driver, a facilities engineer, and myself, an executive assistant for Red Hat.  None of us wanted to say it was necessary for Anthony to die that night.  None of us wanted to let police officers off the hook for shooting and killing this young man.  Unfortunately, the evidence corroborated their version of events.  There were blue pieces of the shattered knife handle at the bottom of the stairs – the hand was not shot at the top of the stairs or even midway as he came down.  It is likely that Anthony managed to rise up enough to trigger that 2nd volley.  It is likely that the bullet that entered his left eye and was the fatal wound was the bullet that had hit the hand and knife handle, broken it, exited the hand, and that his hand was probably in front of his face at the instance, so that that bullet went into his eye and killed him.  It was more probably true that the two bullet wounds in his back (upper left shoulder) that had entered at a downward angle, from top to bottom, and lodged in his ribs and punctured his lungs – that those bullets entered his body as he fell forward, split seconds of the fatal wound.  The amount of blood in his lungs, and the amount of blood outside of his body, on the hand, on the stairs, on the floor, indicated that his heart had stopped beating within seconds of the hand wound and back/lung wounds.  Furthermore, the shot to his right leg that shattered the femur, was not obvious and the officers could not have known he was unable to get up, because he landed on his right side, concealing that injury, and the amount of blood on the floor under his leg was not much, so all of this happened very fast and the officers did not know that he was unable to get up and make another assault.

The entire situation was a terrible tragedy.  These peace officers did the best they could with what they knew to serve and protect the people who had called for help.  I hope they will use this experience to train dispatchers and first responders about crisis intervention procedures.  I hope that peace officers will be given more options, better options than pepper spray and Tasers – other types of force options that aren’t as deadly as a hollow-point 40-caliber handgun.

My heart cries out for Anthony and all who have lost his presence in their lives.

Parenting Preemies

3 Aug

 No parent dreams of spending time in the Newborn Intensive Care Unit (NICU).  Most of us plan to have children and then the imagination takes us on a journey, but never to a place so dark an…

Source: Parenting Preemies

Parenting Preemies

3 Aug

NICUday1a Day 1

No parent dreams of spending time in the Newborn Intensive Care Unit (NICU).  Most of us plan to have children and then the imagination takes us on a journey, but never to a place so dark and surreal as the NICU.  We make love, we hope, we pee on sticks, and from the moment that stick changes our lives forever, we dream of what he or she will bring to life!

We get ultrasounds.  We find out if it is a boy or a girl–or choose to be surprised.  In 1976 when I had my first pregnancy, this option did not exist.  Fifteen years later, I had two ultrasound exams.  The first on October 2nd showed that I was 5-6 weeks pregnant.  I was thrilled.  The father was apprehensive because we were not living together at the time I found out I was pregnant, and although we had seen each other frequently in August, he was aware that I had dated someone else in mid September.  I understood his skepticism about the paternity of this child, but I knew without a doubt he was the father.

Nobody dreams of starting a family this way.

I had been dreaming of my second chance at motherhood for more than a decade.  I had failed on my first opportunity–single parenting in 1977 turned out to be too hard for someone with too much empathy.  It was excruciating to watch my little angel’s future swirling down the toilet because of my stupidity.  She deserved better (than me).

Fifteen years later, the joy of being pregnant was an early Christmas present.  I was so happy!  I was relieved.  It had taken so long–many years since I had stopped taking birth control pills.  I was past the point of seeking help from a fertility doctor (my ex husband was supposed to go first because that is the way they figure out why you are not getting pregnant).  Anyway, this is not about how we get pregnant, it is about parenting preemies.  My point is, none of us ever imagined being in the NICU.  One does not know what a NICU is until one wishes they did not know.

My second ultrasound was on December 31st.  “Have you been spotting?” the technician asked.  Spotting–you mean bleeding?  No.  Why did she ask?  Was something wrong?  There was…a “partial placenta previa”…that meant there was a risk of rupture.  Nobody said that word then.  Rupture.  Nobody mentioned the probability of a premature rupture of membranes, a different kind of PROM.  No, the only hint of a warning received at that poorly managed prenatal clinic was a yawning instruction that if  I started “spotting” to call the clinic.  This is where Day 1 in the NICU begins.  With an innocent mistake like this.  Yes, I did start spotting and of course called the clinic, and was told to lay down and keep my knees up until it stopped.  And whew, it stopped.  And then a week later the traumatic event happens and suddenly you have to be the grizzly mama, fighting for survival and the survival of your cub!

‘Parenting preemies’ means that long after your tiny one has grown into a fine young man pursuing his dream through a college degree, you are still concerned about all tiny ones because you shared the NICU experience with 31 flavors of family.  There were 30-plus babies in there on any given day.  My son’s NICU was a Level 4, and the premier hospital for preemies in the region.  Babies were flown in helicopters to this hospital because these neonatologists and their team were best in class.  These specialists were consulted by doctors from all over the globe!   That’s how lucky my tiny one was–but don’t think for a second that that was sufficient to give me an ounce of peace.  You know the agony of which I speak!

Day 1 of the NICU holds the terror and nausea and numbness of a shell-shocked combat veteran.  It took me five hours to go downstairs to see him there like that, not because I slept for five hours after surgery, not because I was unable to get from the fourth floor to the first floor…it took five hours to go to the NICU because something was absolutely blocking me from even thinking about it.

So today, for no apparent reason other than I simply stumbled onto something about it that has to be brought to light, 24 years and 163 days since it happened, I extend a hand to those who are parenting preemies today in the NICU…and today in the sensory integration playground…and today in the pediatrician’s waiting room.  I reach back to tell you it is going to be okay-ish.  Hang tough.  These tiny ones are mighty big fighters!


Carma & her son on graduation day, BHHS 2011

Addie’s Little Angel

4 Aug

Recently I learned that the difficulties my granddaughter has had in school are known as Asperger’s Syndrome, and that there is an organization that trains dogs to help kids with Asperger’s – AMAZING!!!  Now I am learning about Asperger’s and doing all I can to help spread social understanding and acceptance, as well as the wonderful news that Little Angels Service Dogs exist!

Please share and if you can donate anything at all, please do!  Share and share and share – that is so helpful!!!   My granddaughter’s story is at, scroll down to Addie, age 11.  Please share the link to help raise awareness and spread KINDNESS!!!  Please take a few moments to learn about Asperger’s and to teach your children to recognize it in their classmates and to be sympathetic and respectful of their special challenges in social settings, especially at school!  THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

This is my granddaughter, Adairah ("Addie")

This is my granddaughter, Adairah (“Addie”)

Gramma Carmels

Gramma Carmels, Tessa, Addie & Chelsea

Making Amends

14 Jun

It’s Father’s Day and that, for a lot of men, means a healthy reminder that it is never too late to make amends!  The attempt to make amends takes tremendous courage.  Before you consider how to go about making amends to children whose faith in you, and in men, and in God as a Father figure, has been damaged by your repeated failures to act like a man and keep your promises, a word of advice from a grownup daughter of a lame dad who never attempted to make amends.

Step 1.  Put yourself in the child’s shoes.  Stop thinking of yourself, your feelings, your reasons, your circumstances, your excuses.  The fact is, whatever you did (or did not do, and that is the problem), you were the adult, and they were the child, and no matter how mature they seem to you now — that little boy or girl is still inside, those memories of pain, fear, confusion, doubt, hopelessness…those feelings are still attached to thoughts of you.  The moment they found out you could not be counted on for love and support — that is the nerve touched at every thought of you, and they have to set that aside and try to override the negative emotions with rationalization.

Note:  Even if they reject your attempt to make amends, the fact that you knew that was a probability (deserved) and that you attempted anyway — that you were willing to risk pain yourself in order to heal theirs — it at least gives Men and Dads and God as a Father figure a better reputation!

Step 2.  Think carefully about the approach.  More often than not the problem is not the problem — the problem is how you approach the problem.  A handwritten letter of apology in the mail might be a nice touch, unless there is a restraining order in place, in which case, you should follow the law to the letter of it on how to communicate with those you have already traumatized.

Note:  If you write a letter, don’t write about the weather or the hooker you’re trying to save, and never lay blame on anyone but yourself for your failures to act as a responsible parent.  YOU chose to put your impregnating device into an impregnable place.  YOU chose to do things, or not do things, that were destructive.  So, no excuses and no blame game.

Step 3.  Don’t ask for anything in return and don’t expect that all will be forgiven.  Even if you are so lucky as to be forgiven, verbally, the negative feelings and memories will take a long, long time to heal, and you obviously have some growing to do as a human being to understand how bad what you did (or did not do) was and why trusting you enough to let you back into their world will take a lot of positive reinforcement initiated by you.  BABY STEPS:  Give your word on little things, and then keep your word on little things.  Don’t make promises you can’t keep.  Don’t tell lies, fibs, or exaggerations of the truth — be straight.  Don’t introduce your young adult children to your hooker girlfriend.  Don’t leave porn out where your grownup daughter can see it when she finally comes to spend a little time with you.  Don’t tell your children you can’t help them even a little bit with college or rent, when your checkbook shows $500 here and there paid to your 21-year-old friend named Pam.  Someday, you too will have a heart attack or stroke, and your checkbook will become part of the family record.  If you are a sex addict, own up to it and get some real help!

It’s time to man up!  Do or die in dishonor.

Note to the idiot who screwed his many second chances to be the hero to my son:  This is not an invitation to bother me, or him.  We stopped caring about you years ago when you failed to attempt to make amends when it would have made a difference.  It’s definitely too late for you.  Remember the time you were concerned about his well being and asked to speak to him on the phone when you called my best friend’s house the week we left?  Remember when you wrote to him c/o the Safe House PO Box?  Remember when you cared enough to prove to him that you had stopped abusing drugs and alcohol?  Remember when you saw the happy tears in his face?  No?  You don’t remember that?  Hmm.  I wonder how you could have forgotten doing such important things.  Oh well.  Whatever.  Your loss.  Remember the judge’s words, recorded in court, “Leave her alone…no contact…?”  Good.  At least you remember that!  Don’t make me file another restraining order.