Monday, July 4, 2011

July 4th

Yesterday I spent the morning speaking with the new owner of a young racehorse whom I had a fleeting involvement with a few weeks ago. A very well bred horse injured in a gate incident. It was a delightful conversation pertaining to this Storm Cat x Alydar filly who has been re-named "Chilli."

The day started with such sheer panic and desperation, depression brought from my mother's birthday. It was a welcome relief to leave it all behind and talk "horse" for a few hours. After the conversation ended I returned to the fretting and worry about the house and barn, work and ........ my mother. Homelessness.

Rudyard Kipling is one of my favorite authors. A Englishman born in India he seemed to have the ability to touch the part of human nature in a way few others can. One of his poems, titled, "Oh, Mother Of Mine" is a personal favorite though I have always tried to put "If", the favorite of favorites, into practice. It was Rudyard Kipling who coined the phrase, "God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers."
I am having a hard time missing my mother this July 4th, her birthday.

By 2.15 pm yesterday afternoon my eyesight went, leaving me fumbling around my bosses kitchen with nothing but a painful haze in front of my eyes, desperately trying to get back to the shed. By 3 pm I was suffering a violent migraine that felt like a chain saw was cutting into my skull. I had to crawl into bed so deathly ill I truly wanted to die, and there I remained until 5 am this morning.
I am still so ill, and the pain between the migraines, the tumors and the arthritis, brought on by the damp cooler nights, has me beat. I just want to scream in despair.

I doubt that anyone has a higher tolerance to pain as I have. I have had compound fractures that my daughters have bandaged up.. and I continued training without stopping. Breaking my fingers was an almost routine event - yet I rarely go to the hospital unless I have no option. "Soft" has just never been my way. But after 3 years of sleeping out in the elements I am thoroughly whipped. My body aged so fast and the pain became so excruciating that I gained 50lbs by being unable to physically function anymore. Yet here we are in July and the homelessness and torment continues on with no end in sight.This afternoon my oldest daughter and grand-children went for a rare treat at Taco Bell. I was too ill to eat, but I got an icee that the kids quickly fought over. For July 4th the village wasn't as crowded as we expected... and the clouds gave some optimism that more rain is just around the corner.

Dr.Kenneth Ogilvie, Patricia Ogilvie-Huckins, Malcolm Huckins. Your brother, cousin, son stole our building fund. There is so much about this that is so surreal to me.
Patricia Ogilvie-Huckins you were present the day I signed contract with your son. You walked out of the kitchen with Sylvi Huckins and your son introduced me to you. He told you that I was the British horse trainer he had told you about, the one he was going to build the home and barn for. Why didn't you say something? There may be a rational and reasonable explanation but I have spent over 3 years, homeless, not understanding it.
Dr. Kenneth Ogilvie, I contacted you and simply asked for a reference, not knowing that Robert Huckins was your cousin. Robert Huckins had just stolen over $30,000 from the domestic violence shelter, HEAL, yet everyone was trying to hide it. There was a history of stealing large amounts of money. $65,000 PLUS from Nancy Canning. $80,000 PLUS from Dorothy McKeever. The list just goes on and on and on.
I don't understand how this family stood by and watched so many women being victimized. I honestly and truly try to understand.. but I don't.
How could anyone sit and watch this happen to women who didn't have other resources? The level of cruelty is incomprehensible.

Liam Griffin, I sat in your law office with two witnesses as you gave me your promise, your guarantee, that our money would be returned before harm came to us.

I had to investigate myself. I had to stop work and do all of the leg work myself because no-one was going to help me. It cost an absolute small fortune to get any type of justice. But the justice was not going to give myself and my mother a home. Yet the only thing I want is what we bought and paid for.

I am simply begging you to make Robert Huckins return our stolen building fund so we can try to recover our lives and live in a home like you all do. Like Robert and Sylve Huckins does. Nothing more. Nothing less. Physically and emotionally I simply cannot withstand any more of this abuse. I am too ill and the stress of being homeless is killing me. I pray you will have mercy upon us. You are my only hope.

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you except the will which says to them: 'Hold on!' ~ Rudyard Kipling