Saturday, February 11, 2012

Shades Of Grey

I woke up to a beautiful morning - but one that was bitter cold and a thin layer of ice covered everything. Rio and Gracie ran around while I stood shivering admiring the crystal clear mountain sky. I started throwing a ball, and the dogs retrieved it. I threw it again, and the dogs retrieved it. I didn't even see the 10-15 deer running up towards us when I threw the ball the third time. Not until it rolled between the front legs of the ornery doe. Both dogs stood horrified - then beat a hasty retreat back into the shed.
It's somewhat amusing watching pit bulls tuck their tails between their legs and flee from deer. I could use them as poster children for anti-breed specific banning.

The tiny microwave that has been my only source of hot food for the past 4 years broke the day before yesterday. So I grabbed a cup of cold coffee but after one sip I decided that ice cold coffee isn't half as appetizing as it may sound in a more exotic environment. The one thing I did learn was, one cannot heat up coffee with a hairdrier. My wisdom for the day.

I had to get to Capitan, then Nogal very early. Jan and I sat discussing this awful state of affairs over hot coffee. The cup of coffee I really couldn't refuse.
The conversations between Jan and I are turning more somber as dreams and efforts crumble ... For 4 years it's like watching water erode rock. No matter how much we have tried, no matter how much effort we put into recovering what was stolen, we have simply run out of gas. Out of options. And the consequences seem so profoundly destructive. More losses.. now heading towards being able to salvage nothing of my life. I don't even see how I could even keep hold of furniture, family heirlooms, let alone hope. As we spoke about everything it started to feel like a wake.. a funeral..

Everything here is so topsy turvy, and the level of instability is reaching a crescendo of near panic. Of course my boss could win the lottery tomorrow and I'd be rushing around buying homes for homeless people, of which I am one. This has been, if nothing else, an eye opening and heartbreaking lesson in "Homelessness 101."

I spent the afternoon looking for work, employment - an avenue to generate revenue. And perhaps an avenue that would permit me to function while living in a truck. Tonight and tomorrow snow is forecast but by late afternoon the weather turned bitter old as the most dense fog I have seen rolled in... an icy fog, almost eerie. I am so exhausted by homelessness.
There has to be someone related to Robert & Sylve Huckins must have some means to reach them, if it be Michael Huckins, Dr.Kenneth Ogilvie ( Diana Huckins? Dominic Huckins? Malcolm Huckins? ) or Patricia Ogilvie-Huckins and get them to return ALL of the money they stole from us so that I can buy a home and get our lives back. I am begging anyone in this family for help.

I don't believe I have EVER witnessed any none vio
lent crime that can be as devastating as stealing someone's home. I am walking in Dorothy McKeevers footsteps, day by day, month by month, year by year.

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.

Patricia Ogilvie-Huckins you were present the day I signed contract with your son. You walked out of the kitchen with Sylve 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. I understand it even less knowing that though I was a total stranger, both Dorothy McKeever and Sally Canning you KNEW, and you knew what your son had done to them and others.

Dr. Kenneth Ogilvie, I contacted you and simply asked f
or 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. $89,000 PLUS from Dorothy McKeever, $45,000 from Francis McKinney. The list just goes on and on and on.
Because of Robert Huckins I ended up paying
$140,000 to be homeless.. sat in the cold, emotionally, physically and financially broke. In the middle of a recession, with no way to recover the stolen funds.

Today Robert Huckins has his own home...
He also has OUR home.....
He also has a lot of people's money...
And his freedom.

Women are not banks or loan institutions. Women should not be the source of a retirement fund for people who don't want to do an honest day's work for an honest day's pay. Holding women hostage while playing with the judicial system, a horrendous game of cat and mouse extending YEARS, with the victims whose very homes, families and stability are in jeopardy is cruelty, as cruel as a physical beating. It is financial and emotional RAPE. Homelessness is not justice. It is a slow, painful death.
Please, I beg with everything I have within me, pl
ease convince Robert Huckins to stop this torture and return the building fund he stole from us so we too, can have a home.

Relevant pages:
10/06/pen-is-mightier-than-sword.html in their hearts, wise men know this truth: the only way to help yourself is to help others:Elbert Hubbard