Carolyn's Illness - Murder by Suicide

My sister, Doc, (“back East” and so darned far away from me!) reminds me that “blood remembers.” To explain, Doc believes that the DNA holds ancestral attitudes, events and knowledge, and that those attitudes, events and knowledge run though us in a fine, imperceptible thread of knowing, affecting our perceptions of ourselves and our world as we see it.

Carolyn Harris is a person of sterling character. I have never known her to tell one lie; I have never known her to add color to one truth. She is honorable in all business dealings, faithful and loyal as a friend, and believes in God and the United States of America. It is an honor to know Carolyn and to claim her as my friend.

Carolyn’s DNA originates on the continent of Africa, then further develops in the “Deep South.” If what Doc says about “blood remembering” is correct, then Carolyn’s DNA remembers imprisonment, murder, beatings, slavery, degradation, hopelessness, and defeatism. Her DNA remembers a “whites only” world, segregation, hopelessness and defeatism. Her DNA tells her that she “is just not good enough,” and that she is “black, and a woman, at that.”

When Angel Team was commandeered by Cochise County, Carolyn insisted upon “honoring our lease” on the five room office suite located on Rt. 92 in Sierra Vista. I wanted to let it go; what few private clients we had could barely pay the monthly lease of two thousand dollars, and, frankly, we needed that money to live. If we had no business expenses to pay, we might be able to keep our personal lives intact, I reasoned.

Carolyn was honorable to obligations and insisted upon remaining so, despite the immediate poverty that we were experiencing. I knew, yet Carolyn did not know that I knew, that she was in denial; that she believed that – any minute now – this bad dream would be over - the phone would ring, we would have our contract back and our world would again be right-side-up.

I called our office every day for a year, and the phone was answered. “Good morning (afternoon), Angel Team. This is Carolyn.” She always sounded bright and cheerful, despite the fact that the office was dark and devoid of everything but one desk, a telephone and Carolyn.

Carolyn was in the office, and I was on the couch.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, all events being so overwhelming, but sometime after I was shakily on my feet, I called the office one day and the phone had been disconnected.
I called Carolyn’s cell phone; she sounded a bit strange, and said she would call me back.

It was not until the next morning that she called. We had a nice talk; I told her about “Little Bubba,” the Australian Shepherd puppy who, along with Piggy, was doing his best to fill up the holes in my heart.

She told me that she was going to get her real estate license and move forward. I was very happy about that. We were “still in litigation,” though neither of us spoke about the overwhelming inadequacies of our attorney and the shoddiness with which our case was being handled.

Later, she was to tell me that she did not know what had happened to her: One day she was sitting there waiting for the phone to ring and “something popped in her head.” She left the office, never to go back, and to seek solace in a new companion – alcohol.

Carolyn did not “ease into” drinking. She slammed it hard from the first drink. Alcohol became her constant companion – it stopped the pain.

Carolyn’s beloved aunt, Dawn Mae, became critically ill and was discharged from the hospital on hospice services. The night Dawn Mae died, the hospice nurses found Carolyn dead-drunk beside Dawn’s bed.

“They (Cochise Health Systems and Cochise County) didn’t want me, Mary!” she sobbed to me once while drinking heavily. “Because I’m the black woman!”

The past two years have been a suicide run for my beautiful beloved friend. She is mostly unconscious now, and I don’t believe that she wants to come back to this world. She is finally at peace.

Carolyn’s blood remembered.

Thowing some words on the clothesline...

Thinking. All day at computer. Tired. Disjointed words float through my head like road signs, one for every ten miles of thought. The thoughts pervade, like: Evercare was the company given our business after Cochise County commandeered it - Evercare (formerly LifeMark, now Accent Care) gave $40,000 through "lobbyists" in 2002 -2003. Evercare controls most of the HMO activity in Arizona.

Let me string the words on a clothesline, and someone else may read them better:
Evercare...lobbyist...Vicki Iseman...John McCain (known liar)...$40,000...2002...NCFE...Arizona state investments....local Arizona government investments...

Not accusing, mind you....just hanging out the wash.

NCFE news from December 23, 2007 - two months ago

Reprinted from the Somervell County Salon

December 23, 2007

In a sweeping decision issued today, the Honorable James Graham of the United State District Court for the Southern District of Ohio denied in virtually every respect motions to dismiss over $1.6 billion in claims filed against Credit Suisse First Boston (CSFB) by investors who formerly held “AAA” rated notes issued by now-defunct National Century Financial Enterprises of Dublin, Ohio (NCFE). The largest group of investors is represented by Gibbs & Bruns L.L.P. of Houston.

The Court’s ruling is highly significant for purchasers of asset-backed notes, an area of keen recent interest in light of the sub-prime loan crisis. The Court categorically rejected CSFB’s argument that disclaimers included in the offering memorandum required the dismissal of Plaintiffs’ fraud claims: “The disclaimers in the offering materials…do not preclude Plaintiffs from showing that they justifiably relied on CSFB’s alleged misrepresentations.” The opinion held that CSFB’s disclaimer stating that it had done no independent investigation of its own “would seem beyond credulity,” particularly to investors who knew that CSFB “had helped devise the note programs and helped draft the offering materials.” The Court noted that “it would defeat the securities laws if parties could escape liability for their own deliberate misrepresentations by including boilerplate disclaimers into offering materials.”

Among the investor plaintiffs were major banks, mutual funds, and insurance companies, along with the State of Arizona and a number of Arizona Local Government entities. Kathy Patrick of Gibbs & Bruns, lead counsel for plaintiffs who held over $1.6 billion dollars in NCFE notes, said that her clients feel vindicated: “Our clients are very pleased that the Court has rejected CSFB’s efforts to avoid responsibility for its action by relying on technicalities The securities laws require sellers of securities to tell the truth. We look forward to presenting these claims to a jury.”

You may read this article for yourself at:
http://salon.glenrose.net/default.asp?view=plink&id=5650

The Time Is Now

February 24, 2008

There are many factors contributing to the exploitation, neglect, abuse of our elders and the apathy, that we, as a societal mass, use to negate our responsibilities toward them and our downright lack of respect for their place in our society.

Time is of the essence, however; I need to get this message to the American Public as quickly as possible because of the Presidential Primaries. Without making highly of my writing skills and myself, I do make highly of the Truth, and the truth in this message might make a difference in the way someone out there in the real United States might mark their ballot.

Among the topics that I wanted to blog out there (in depth) are: assisted living centers; reverse mortgages; social subsidation (rather than social security), Adult Protective Services, more on the Arizona ALTCs program, and to provide an answer to the question, "Why is the government (Medicare/Medicaid) forbidden to negotiate drug prices with the pharmaceutical companies?"

I also wanted to include more of the topics which are closest to my heart – I want to tell you why Carolyn is dying and what part Cochise County and the state of Arizona played in her terminal diagnosis. I want to tell the world about the contributing factors and the “dirty needle.”

The American public also deserves to know about the attorneys involved, and the “counselor” who was to “help me” with posttraumatic stress syndrome.

Certainly, our contract proposal to Gila/Pinal County deserves to be thrown out there for the American public to scrutinize, as well as a good plan to conserve millions of dollars in Medicaid delivery while providing more, and better, services.

My book, “The American Eldercide” will soon be published and will include all these topics and more. I will probably publish it inexpensively, possibly as an ebook. This blogsite will make available the information to obtain the book.

In the meantime, thank you for reading what I have written; I honor your taking time to read this manuscript by telling you only the truth.

I will welcome any comments that you have for me.

In His Love,

Mary A. Wilson

States Rights?

Sunday, February 24, 2008

I just saw John McCain on CNN news, speaking to the Governor’s Conference in his quest for the Republican nomination. He promised the governors that he would “uphold states rights.” Well, I am here to attest to his capabilities in that area. Federal law did not matter to the state of Arizona in our case; the United States Constitution did not matter; the Sherman Act and others promoting fair and equitable treatment in business and commerce did not matter; even the recent Affirmative Action Law was laid waste, along with every other civil liberty that Black Americans have bled for!

I would like all readers to really think about his statements and my story; I think that you will realize that first and foremost, you need to remain a United States Citizen, with certain unalienable rights that cannot be not superseded by the state.

From Arizona, Justice makes a run for Washington and is shot down dead at the state lines.

In Loving Tribute to "Buck" 1911 - 1999

There's a trail that leads out 'cross the valley through the prairie-dust, velvety gray

'Cross the canyons and rivers and washes it's a trail that grows dimmer each day

You can't make it without an old-timer

~ to take you and make you his guest

For that trail is the long trail of mem'ry

~ that leads to the heart of the West.

Author Unknown

The Schiller Institute Report

The State of Arizona denied the existence of the NCFE bankruptcy and its horrible mushroom cloud of death and destruction. The county of Cochise and the state of Arizona committed many crimes in the keeping the awful secret of the Medicaid moneys lost by their investments in the Local Government Investment Pools (LGIPs) through the Arizona State Treasurer’s office. Among these crimes: Fraud; Theft in Office; Obstruction of Justice; violation of the Sherman Act and other anti-trust laws; creating a Monopoly in order to protect their own concerns; Perjury; and Affirmative Action laws, just to name a few.

John McCain was in a position, as shown in this Schiller report, to have taken this wretched matter to congress; to have given to the elderly citizens of the state of Arizona the grace of, at least, knowing what happened to their funding; and to clear up the corruption in local and state governments out here that allowed this to happen and that perpetuated the “secret,” for which the citizens of Arizona have paid dearly.


I have diligently copied the following pages, word for word, from the site of the Shiller Institute. You may access these web pages for yourself at:
http://www.schillerinsitute.org/health/privat_bubble.html

(All that follows is from the Shiller Institute site)

LaRouche was Right About D.C. Hospital Shutdown Scandal

Health Care Privatization Scheme Collapses in D.C.
By Edward Spannaus


NCFE: Death-Dealing Side of the Bubble
By John Hoefle

Both articles were published in the Nov. 29, 2002 issue of the “Executive Intelligence Review.”

The privatization scheme for Washington, D.C.’s public health-care system, which was rammed through in a corrupt deal last year – and which the U.S. Congress refused to reverse, even though it had the power and duty to do so – has now entered into a process of rapid and terminal collapse.

The centerpiece of the privatization scheme, Greater Southeast Community Hospital, is in bankruptcy and is operating “day-to-day” on a drastically reduced level, as a result of the Chapter11 filing on Nov. 20 by its owner, the Arizona-based Doctors Community Healthcare Corporation. DCHC’s filing followed by two days the bankruptcy of its partner, National Century Financial Enterprises (NCFE), which itself filed Chapter 11 on November 18, after FBI agents spent the weekend executing a search warrant in its Ohio headquarters.
All of this was seen and forecast a year and one-half ago, by the LaRouche movement, which organized the mass opposition to the shutdown of D.C. General Hospital, and exposed the dirty record of DCHC and NCFE. EIR that what DCHC and NCFE specialize in, “is extracting loot from hospitals and health-care institutions upon which the lives and well-being of thousands of patients and citizens depend.

Even though this was all known, the corrupt deal was forced through by Wall Street’s Financial Control Board, which oversaw the city’s finances, and Democratic Leadership Council (DLC) darling Mayor Anthony Williams. After the takeover of the Senate by John McCain (R-Ariz.) and Joe Lieberman (D-Conn.), the DLC gang prevented any consideration of the matter in Congress, with D.C.’s Congressional Delegate Eleanor Holmes Norton ordering Congress to stay out, because it was a “home rule” issue.

Greater Southeast’s Failure

Not only was DCHC’s Greater Southeast supposed to “replace” the services provided by the top-rated D.C. General Hospital – which it could never do – but it was also the centerpiece of the so-called k, which was supposed to function like and HMO for poor residents of the District.

Greater Southeast never provide anywhere near the level of services of D.C. General. Under the privatization contract rammed through by the Mayor and the Financial Control Board, it was supposed to create its own Level I Trauma Center, to replace that which was shut down at D.C. General; it never even tried.

Last Spring, Greater Southeast was downgraded by the national agency responsible for accrediting health-care institutions, after an inspection found numerous safety and health violations. Greater Southeast was then notified by the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Services that its ability to obtain reimbursements from the Federal government was in jeopardy because of this. Ironically, the re-inspection is scheduled to take place during the Thanksgiving week of Nov.25 – at a point where the hospital cannot even provide sufficient nurses and doctors to serve its dwindling number of patients.

Greater Southeast’s emergency room has been closed for much of the week of Nov. 18, its pediatrics unit has been closed, and three nursing units have been consolidated into one. The CEO of Greater Southeast has said publicly, that the hospital is operating “day-to-day,” and that if it cannot meet payroll, it will close.

The near closing of Greater Southeast has again thrown the District’s emergency medical services into a crisis – as occurred after the shutdown of D.C. General in the summer of 1991. Greater Southeast staffs its emergency room with contract physicians from PhyAmerica – which has also gone into bankruptcy because of non-payment from NCFE.
Howard University Hospital, the only other hospital in the eastern half of the city, is diverting ambulances from its emergency room due to overcrowding. Washington Hospital Center has announced that it will not accept any more non-emergency patients, because of lack of payment from Greater Southeast.

According to Sister Carol Keehan, the CEO of Providence Hospital, Greater Southeast Hospital’s emergency department and the emergency department at D.C. General, serve 6,000 patients a month.

City Council members are enraged and pointing to their unanimous opposition to the privatization scheme last year. Councilman David Catania, who had published a dossier on DCHC and NCFE, said that “the Control Board and the Mayor’s office didn’t listen when we told them this would happen.”

“I’m sick,” said Council member Sandy Allen, who sponsored many hearings on D.C. General and the privatization plan last year.

The fallout from the NCFE collapse is being felt all over the country. At least four other health-care providers have also gone into bankruptcy, including PhyAmerica, which provides emergency-room doctors for over 200 hospitals; the Tender Loving Care unit of Med Diversified, which provides home-care services to over 60,000 patients; and Lincoln Hospital Medical in Los Angeles.

Hundreds of other clients of NCFE – which built its operation around lending against the accounts receivable of health-care providers – are also endangered. Many operate in the nation’s poorest communities. “This is a knife in the heart of those institutions,” a spokesman for the American Hospital Association said, noting that many of these facilities were already on the verge of collapse.

NCFE: DEATH DEALING SIDE OF THE BUBBLE
By John Hoefle

Lyndon LaRouche has long maintained that it is not just the collapse of the world’s largest financial bubble that is deadly. Attempting to maintain that bubble is measured in lives wasted, destroyed and lost. The bankruptcy of, and mushrooming scandal around, NCFE, provides an insight into how this destructive process works, and illustrates the consequences of failing to re-regulate industry and infrastructure, to stop such abuses.

In the aftermath of the near-meltdown of the global financial system in September, 1998, the world’s major central banks, led by the Federal Reserve, printed and unleashed what speculator/drug-pusher George Soros blithely called a “wall of money,” in a desperate attempt to stave off a total blowout. Part of these “walls of money” pumped into the banking systems were used to carve out wider channels for existing income streams to flow into the banks’ pockets. Some of these measures were legal; others were allowed only because Congress had legalized them by systematically dismantling existing protections; and some were illegal even in a fraud-friendly environment. The post – 1998 policy was, in effect, to beg, borrow, or steal anything that could be stolen and throw it into the bubble.

It is this combination of monetary policy, deregulation and financial asset-grabbing which created the dot.com bubble, the related telecom bubble, and the Enron/energy pirates’ Wall Street bubble; all of which have subsequently exploded and are now revealed to be what LaRouche had said they were – scams. Now, with the bankruptcy of NCFE, another aspect of this post-1998 looting has come out of the shadows and into the light.

THE ASSET-BACKED SECURITIES DANGER

NCFE was basically a financial “factor,” advancing cash to hospitals, physicians, and other health-care facilities in exchange for their receivables – the delayed payments made by insurance companies and government agencies for patients’ treatment. NCFE would place these receivables into pools, then issue derivative securities – known as “asset-backed securities” – backed by the expected insurance payments.

When Federal Reserve Chairman Sir Alan Greenspan talks about how the derivatives market has saved the financial system by spreading the risk, one of the elements he has in mind, no doubt, is the asset- backed securities market, which has doubled in size since 1998. As of the second quarter of 2002, there were $1.4 trillion in asset-backed securities outstanding, according to the Bond Market Association. Of this amount, $394 billion – 28% of the total – were securities backed by credit-card payments; $234 billion (17%) were backed by home equity payments; and $205 billion (14%) were backed by auto-loan payments.

Asset-backed securities account for only 7% of the $20 trillion U.S. bond market, falling well short of the $4.5 trillion in mortgage-related bonds, or the $4 trillion in corporate bonds, but they play an important role in what is politely called “risk management.” Commercial banks have been quite active in recent years, converting their credit-card and other loans into asset-backed securities, which are then sold primarily to institutional investors. The effect is to take the loans of the banks’ books, shifting the risk of non-payment of the loans from the banks to the owners of the securities. In these days of soaring debts and a shrinking economy, such a method for shifting losses from banks to pension, mutual, and other publicly owned funds is no small consideration for a financier.

THE SQUEEZE

NCFE was basically in the business of loaning hospitals, nursing home, and other medical facilities money to get them through the period between when they provide a service and when they get reimbursed for that service by the relevant insurance company or government agency. The more slowly they received their payments, the weaker their financial condition; since the health maintenance organizations were notorious for delaying reimbursements, the HMOs created the opening for NCFE (and others, though NCFE was the largest player in the field) to step in and fill the gap. For a fee, of course.
Caught in this squeeze, more than 100 clients signed up for NCFE’s services, with the company buying $15 billion in receivables and issuing $6 billion in asset-backed securities since is founding in 1991.
As a private company not required to make public filings with the Securities and Exchange Commission, much about NCFE remains shrouded in secrecy. But one can tell a lot by looking at its board, which consisted of four of the company’s founders and two executives of J.P. Morgan Chase, which controls 16% of the company through its Beacon Group III private equity fund. In addition, Morgan Chase and Bank One are trustees for NCFE’s bond trusts. The bonds themselves were underwritten by Credit Suisse First Boston, the investment banking arm of Switzerland’s Credit Suisse banking/insurance giant. The top purchasers of the bonds included PIMCO, the world’s largest bond fund and a subsidiary of insurer Allianz, the world’s third-largest financial institution; Alliance Capitol Management, an arm of French insurance giant Axa; and ING, the Dutch insurance/banking conglomerate.

All in all, NCFE appears to fit the profile of a looting operation, whose existence served mainly to divert a portion of the health-care income stream into the pockets of some of the biggest financial institutions in the world. Now it has collapsed, leaving a bankruptcy wave to spread among medical providers, with disastrous consequences for the health-care system and its patients.

ETHICS - Errold F. Moody, Jr., PHD, MSFP, MBA, LLB, BSCE

Errold F. Moody Jr. is a highly respected and award-winning Financial Planner, Expert Witness, Instructor and Author.

“Being ethical is professional, but the gesture goes beyond the mere compliance with law. It means being completely honest concerning ALL FACTS. It means more than merely NOT telling lies, because an incomplete answer can be more deceptive than a lie.”

“NEVER FORGET THAT A HALF TRUTH IS A WHOLE LIE.”

www.efmoody.com/

Actual Minutes of the Cochise County Board Meeting - Please See Item #10 (This is theft)

Mary's note: Item #10 not only clearly shows Theft in Office, but has a broader scope - exploitation of vulnerable adults (by those sworn to protect their assests!) and Breach of Fiduciary Duties.

PROCEEDINGS OF THE REGULAR BOARD MEETING OF THE
COCHISE COUNTY BOARD OF SUPERVISORS

TUESDAY, MARCH 18, 2003

A regular board meeting of the Cochise County Board of Supervisors was held on Tuesday, March 18, 2003 in the Board of Supervisors’ meeting room at 1415 West Melody Lane, Building B, Bisbee, Arizona. In attendance were Patrick Call, Chairman; Paul Newman, Vice-Chairman; Leslie Thompson, Member; Jody Klein, County Administrator; Britt Hanson,
Deputy County Attorney; Karla Jensen, Public Information Officer; and Nadine Parkhurst, Clerk of the Board.

ANY ITEM ON THIS AGENDA IS OPEN FOR DISCUSSION AND POSSIBLE ACTION

INVOCATION

PLEDGE OF THE ALLEGIANCE

APPROVAL OF THE AGENDA

THE ORDER OR DELETION OF ANY ITEM ON THIS AGENDA IS SUBJECT TO MODIFICATION AT THE MEETING

INTRODUCTION OF NEW EMPLOYEES TO THE BOARD OF SUPERVISORS - The following employees were introduced to the Board members:

Court Administration: Robert Scofield and Marty Jones were introduced by Tom Hilb, Security Chief for the Superior Court
Planning: Richard Corley and Tonia Scrugs were introduced by Jim Vlahovich, Planning Director
Information Technologies: Barbara Yokono was introduced by Jim Norris, Information Technologies Director
Juvenile Court: Luis Morales was introduced by Jim Milligan

ROLL CALL – The three board members were present.

CALL TO THE PUBLIC (MATTERS RELATED TO COUNTY GOVERNMENT - LIMIT OF 3 MINUTES PER PERSON OR AT THE DISCRETION OF THE CHAIRMAN)

Chairman Call invited any member of the audience to address the Board on issues not listed on the agenda. No one responded.

REPORT BY MR. JODY KLEIN, COUNTY ADMINISTRATOR, ON RECENT AND PENDING COUNTY MATTERS

County Administrator Jody Klein explained that during a meeting of the Arizona County Managers, the “hot” issue of the potential loss of funds by the Local Government Investment Pool (LGIP) was widely discussed. The City of Chandler, which is likely to face the highest losses, is developing a strategy on how to proceed to include the potential hiring of a specialized bankruptcy firm. Mr. Klein mentioned that a copy of the letter sent by Ms. Marsha Bonham to Mr. David Peterson, State Treasurer was widely distributed. This letter rejects the option of Opt in or out emphasized that the Attorney General is not entitled to a 35% cut on any potential bankruptcy settlement. Mr. Klein stressed that, at this point, nothing has been finalized.

Mr. Klein mentioned that a meeting was held with the new Director of the Department of Commerce who mentioned a $30,000 grant, one half being devoted to the distribution of materials and the other half devoted to web development. The County will work quickly on this submission.

REPORT BY MS. KARLA JENSEN, PUBLIC INFORMATION OFFICER ON WEEKLY ACTIVITIES

Public Information Officer Karla Jensen gave a summary of her weekly activities.

CONSENT AGENDA

ATTORNEY

ITEM 1
SALARY INCREASE FOR RECENTLY RECLASSIFIED LEGAL SECRETARY III IN RECOGNITION OF PROMOTION

COCHISE COUNTY WORKFORCE DEVELOPMENT

ITEM 2
APPOINTMENT OF MR. ART MACIAS, JR. AND MR. KEVIN GOATES TO THE COCHISE COUNTY LOCAL WORKFORCE INVESTMENT BOARD FOR A FOUR-YEAR TERM EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY THROUGH MARCH 18, 2007

FINANCE

ITEM 3
DEMANDS

Warrant Number 11932 through 12282 were issued from the funds listed below for a total of $1,609,502.16 (Voided warrants are also listed below.)

VOIDED WARRANTS

None






ISSUED WARRANTS

Fund 100
General Fund
$ 174,423.43

Fund 103
Document Storage-Recorder
$ 3,285.40

Fund 105
Bisbee/Douglas Airport
$ 2,542.20

Fund 109
Fleet Mgmt
$ 118,948.50

Fund 116
Tourism
$ 1,317.00

Fund 124
Attorney Anti-Racketeering
$ 100.24

Fund 125
Attorney Victim Assistance
$ 79.62

Fund 147
Adult Prob. Svcs. Fee
$ 1,536.55

Fund 152
Adult Prob. St. Aid Enhmnt
$ 24.07

Fund 158
Adult Prob. I.P.S. Grant
$ 1,700.00

Fund 161
Local Court Assist Fund
$ 437.50

Fund 168
Children's Issues Education
$ 2.17

Fund 171
County Library
$ 5,289.10

Fund 173
State Library Grant 02
$ 924.48

Fund 175
Friends of Library
$ 24.52

Fund 176
New Access to Online Data
$ 150.00

Fund 203
Jail Enhancement
$ 174.54

Fund 207
Sheriff Dare Grant
$ 280.00

Fund 208
Sheriff Inmate Welfare
$ 4.19

Fund 212
AZ Criminal Justice Grant
$ 1,044.88

Fund 222
Office of Bio Terrorism
$ 120.00

Fund 223
Maternal & Child Health
$ 2,719.68

Fund 226
Child Health
$ 1.80

Fund 234
TB Control
$ 0.52

Fund 237
Health S.T.D. Grant
$ 8.10

Fund 239
SEAGO Case Mgmt
$ 119.59

Fund 241
HIV Outpatient Svcs
$ 11.55

Fund 243
Immunization Program
$ 26.78

Fund 249
Tobacco Educ. Grant
$ 2,631.65

Fund 251
Public Works
$ 37,230.23

Fund 261
Flood Control District
$ 378.91

Fund 276
School Fund
$ 243.93

Fund 278
Small Schools
$ 29.90

Fund 450
M.I.S. Capital Reserve
$ 11,443.45

Fund 501
County Group Health
$ 33,624.98

Fund 505
Solid Waste
$ 50,548.20

Fund 506
Waste Tire Grant
$ 3,872.96

Fund 508
Cochise Health Systems
$ 1,128,497.51

Fund 540
Drug Treatment Education
$ 3,925.00

Fund 555
Juvenile Treatment Svcs
$ 8.90

Fund 556
Diversion Consequences
$ 34.27

Fund 557
Domestic Violence TF
$ 3,740.50

Fund 601
Computer Replacement Program
$ 17,995.36






TOTAL
$ 1,609,502.16

HIGHWAY/FLOODPLAIN

ITEM 4
ACCEPTANCE OF A ROAD PETITION TO ESTABLISH A PORTION OF SANTA ELENA AVENUE AS A DECLARED COUNTY HIGHWAY AND SCHEDULE A PUBLIC HEARING FOR TUESDAY, APRIL 15, 2003

INDIGENT DEFENSE COORDINATOR/PUBLIC DEFENDER

ITEM 5
TRANSFER OF $150,000 FROM GENERAL FUND CONTINGENCY TO ADULT INDIGENT DEFENSE ACCOUNT IN ORDER TO PAY FOR MANDATORY INDIGENT DEFENSE COSTS

SCHOOLS

ITEM 6
ACCEPTANCE OF A $22,195 GRANT FOR FUNDS TO BE USED IN FISCAL YEAR 2003 FROM ARIZONA DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION TO FORM THE COCHISE COUNTY TITLE III CONSORTIUM ON BEHALF OF 14 SCHOOL DISTRICTS IN COCHISE COUNTY

ITEM 7
ACCEPTANCE OF A $24,312.60 GRANT FROM ARIZONA DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION FOR START-UP FUNDS TO ESTABLISH TRAINING FOR PROFESSIONAL DEVELOPMENT OF TEACHERS IN THE COUNTY

SUPERVISORS, BOARD OF

ITEM 8
WASTE DISPOSAL SERVICES AGREEMENT NO. 4503

Supervisor Newman made a motion, which was seconded by Supervisor Thompson to approve Item No. 1 thru Item No. 8 of the Consent Agenda. The motion unanimously carried.

ACTION AGENDA

ATTORNEY

ITEM 9
RESOLUTION NO. 03-10 TO DELEGATE AUTHORITY TO THE COUNTY ADMINISTRATOR TO APPROVE CERTAIN STANDARD CONTRACTS FOR COCHISE HEALTH SYSTEMS

Cochise Health Systems, a division of Cochise Aging and Social Services, provide long term and medical care for eligible recipients in Cochise, Graham and Greenlee Counties. These services are provided through a network of healthcare professionals, which are under contract. The purpose of the proposed resolution is to allow the County Administrator (or his designee) to review, sign and approve standard form contracts on behalf of the Board of Supervisors.

This action will have for effect to handle numerous contracts in a more efficient and timely manner and avoid the delays caused by a formal presentation to the Board. However, if in the estimation of the County Administrator or the Director of Aging and Social Services, a contract does not fit under the category of “standard format”, this contract will be submitted to the Board for approval.

Supervisor Thompson made a motion, which was seconded by Supervisor Newman, to adopt Resolution No. 03-10 delegating to the County Administrator (or his designee) the authority to approve certain standards contracts for Cochise Health Services and authorize the Chairman to sign. The motion carried unanimously.

COCHISE AGING AND SOCIAL SERVICES/PUBLIC FIDUCIARY DIVISION

ITEM 10
TRANSFER OF FUNDS FROM COCHISE COUNTY GENERAL FUND CONTINGENCY LINE TO THE PUBLIC FIDUCIARY WARDS’ INDIVIDUAL ACCOUNTS IN THE AMOUNT OF $22,441.37

As a result of potential loss of investments made by the Local Government Investment Pool (LGIP), the State Treasurer has determined that a portion of this money is not available at this time. Included in this potential loss is Public Fiduciary wards individual accounts. By statute the Public Fiduciary is mandated to preserve and protect the assets of their clients. The total amount identified by the Treasurer for potential loss amounts to $22,441.37.

Ms. DeeDee Peterson, Director of Cochise Aging and Social Services requested that this amount be transferred from the General Fund Contingency Line to offset the potential loss based on the following considerations:
Ø Ø It is expected that the Public Fiduciary Division will realize a revenue of $86,893. This amount will easily offset any cost to the General Fund.
Ø Ø The Office of the Public Fiduciary will be subject to a loss of credibility by the families, beneficiaries and the Court.
Ø Ø The County could face legal challenges at the time of the accounting in front of the Court or faced a lawsuit, which would be costly to defend.

Supervisor Newman made a motion, which was seconded by Supervisor Thompson to approve the transfer of funds from the Cochise County General Fund Contingency Line to the Public Fiduciary Wards’ individual accounts.

Result of the motion:

Chairman Call voted YES
Supervisor Thompson voted YES
Supervisor Newman abstained. Supervisor Newman stated that by taking this action, other entities which will be facing potential losses (such as schools) could expect the County to offset some of those losses (funds which the County does not possess.)

TREASURER

ITEM 11
ABATEMENT OF TAXES AND INTEREST ON CERTIFICATES OF REMOVAL AND ABATEMENT NO. 2003-82 THROUGH 2003-101 AND 2003-102 THROUGH 2003-126

When a property is abandoned for a number of years and the owners cannot be tracked down, the County has no choice but to abate the back taxes due. Supervisor Thompson made a motion, which was seconded by Supervisor Newman, to abate the taxes and interest on certificates of removal and abatement No. 2003-82 through 2003-101 and 2003-102 through 2003-106. The motion unanimously carried.

PUBLIC HEARINGS

FACILITIES/SOLID WASTE

ITEM 12
RESOLUTION NO. 03 - 11 COCHISE COUNTY SOLID WASTE DISPOSAL ORDINANCE

Before entertaining Item 12, Chairman Call left the room to be a party to a conference call initiated by Governor Napolitano regarding safety issues due to the potential conflict with Iraq. Vice Chairman Paul Newman took over the running of the meeting; Chairman Call was absent for the remainder of the meeting.

Mr. L. H. Hamilton, Facilities Director, explained that Cochise County has been experiencing a huge increase of illegal dumping sites. By the proposed ordinance, the Board is making a statement that illegal dumping will not be tolerated. This document represents an effort to better deal with the illegal dumping issue and establish a coordinated approach by the four departments involved; Facilities and Solid Waste, Planning and Zoning, Highway and Health. This ordinance combines the various laws and regulations including the regulations from the Health and Zoning Departments. The overall coordination and administration of this ordinance will rest with the Solid Waste Inspector (s).

Every effort will be made to identify the responsible party. This ordinance allows the solid waste inspector to issue a civil citation. If the party cannot be identified and the waste is located on private property, the property owner and occupant will be responsible for the cleanup. If the property owner does not proceed with the cleanup, the County will perform this function and the actual total cost of the cleanup plus an administrative4 fee will be assessed. If the assessment is not paid, a lien will be placed on the property.

Mr. Hamilton stressed that the County needs to address this problem and County employees will be receiving training on this issue as well as being encouraged to report any sighting of illegal dumping. Information will be distributed by the Public Information Officer as well as being placed on the County website (http://www.cochisecounty.com/).

Vice Chairman Newman indicated that this was the time for any member of the audience to address the Board on the proposed ordinance on illegal dumping. No one responded.

Supervisor Thompson made a motion to adopt Resolution No. 03-11 (Ordinance No. 032-03), Cochise County solid Waste Ordinance.

Result of the motion:

Supervisor Thompson voted YES
Supervisor Newman voted YES
Chairman Call was absent from the room due to an emergency call from Governor Napolitano regarding security measures to protect sites around Arizona, which might be a potential terrorist target. The motion carried by two votes.

ITEMS FOR DISCUSSION

ITEM 13
STATE AND FEDERAL LEGISLATION

Mr. Klein mentioned that the Joint Legislative Budget Committee is still working at balancing the State budget. Whatever final decisions are made by Legislature, the impact on the Counties will be huge. There is a strong possibility that a large part of the Highway User Revenue Fund (HURF) will be used to fund the Department of Public Safety.

ITEM 14
FISCAL YEAR 2003-2004 BUDGET

County Administrator Jody Klein indicated that budget hearings have taken place with three major departments: Fleet, Facilities and Solid Waste and Information Technologies Department. The other departments have submitted their budgetary information and FY 03-04 Goals and Objectives

SUMMARY ON CURRENT EVENTS BY BOARD MEMBERS:

ITEM 15
REPORT BY SUPERVISOR PATRICK CALL, DISTRICT NO. 1 – Chairman Call was absent from the room for the reason indicated above.
REPORT BY SUPERVISOR PAUL NEWMAN, DISTRICT NO. 2 – Supervisor Newman made a report on the visit of Senator McCain, Undersecretary for Homeland Security Asa Hutchinson and Congressman Raul Grijalva to Bisbee, Douglas and the US Mexico Border area. Supervisor Newman also mentioned an upcoming meeting with Attorney General Terry Goddard to discuss issues related to the County.
REPORT BY SUPERVISOR LESLIE THOMPSON, DISTRICT NO. 3 - Supervisor Thompson did not provide a report.

No further business being presented, Chairman Call declared the meeting adjourned. The next regularly scheduled meeting of the Cochise County Board of Supervisors will be held on Tuesday, March 25, 2003 at 2:00 p.m. in the Cochise County Board of Supervisors’ Hearing Room which is located at 1415 W. Melody Lane (Building B), Bisbee, AZ.


APPROVED: ____________________________________
Patrick Call, Chairman


ATTEST: _____________________________________
Nadine Parkhurst, Clerk of the Board


(SUPPORTING DOCUMENTATION IS AVAILABLE AT THE BOARD OF SUPERVISORS’ OFFICE)

Arizona Folks Must Not Read USA Today, Or Maybe They Think It Didn't Happen Here...

The effects of the financial catastrophe briefly outlined below by writer Del Jones of USA TODAY are still being felt by the poor, elderly and disabled in Arizona. An astounding dollar amount of Medicaid accounts receivable were lost for the Arizona AHCCCS program (Arizona’s Medicaid) through investments made by the counties through the Arizona State Treasurer’s office. Our Medicaid services have not yet recovered from this loss; the deception, lies and sidestepping used by the Cochise County and the state to keep this information from the public and many of the service companies involved is so unethical that it should forerun impeachment of every elected official in this state.

Posted online 11/21/2002

By Del Jones, USA TODAY

NCFE’s ills put patients at risk

The care of critically ill patients nationwide is threatened as hospitals and health care providers run out of cash to pay for workers and medical supplies.

The crisis, mostly for poor and elderly patients on Medicaid and Medicare, stems from the collapse of National Century Financial Enterprises (NCFE), which is bogged down in bankruptcy, an FBI investigation and charges of fraud.

Figuring out the blame might take years, but there could be an immediate impact on a health care system that was already “teetering on life support,” says W. David Leak, medical director of Pain Control Consultants in Columbus, Ohio, a practice of doctors whose specialty is pain relief for patients such as those who recently had back surgery.

The NCFE bankruptcy has created a domino of bankruptcies of others that used its financing services. Hospitals have filed for bankruptcy protection in Washington, Chicago, Los Angeles and elsewhere.

Chapter 11 typically might buy them time to negotiate fresh loans or pay employees from fresh patient money coming in. But due to NCFE’s contract, even future receivables are tied up in bankruptcy court, leaving few companies willing to make deliveries of critical medical supplies.

Tender Loving Care, a provider of in-home health care, has filed for bankruptcy protection. Its parent, Med Diversified, has not filed, but says there is a growing possibility that it might not make payroll to 13,000 workers. That means 175,000 patients in 23 states, most elderly and poor, might already be scrambling to get on the waiting lists of other companies and could find themselves at the back of a long line.

Med Diversified spokeswoman Angeline Cook says the company is doing what it can to secure short-term financing. It will give advance notice to employees if the payroll can’t be made, she says.

She says she worries that the problem could spin out of control. “The probability that more companies could go bankrupt and therefore affect patient care is very high,” Cook says.

“Are we in a desperate situation? Yes,” Cook says.

“We don’t make widgets,” Med Diversified CEO Frank Magliochetti testified last week in U.S. District Court in Ohio.

“When you say that we lose a customer, that means we have a 4-year-old kid sitting in Connecticut where a nurse isn’t going to show up this afternoon to give him or her an oncology drug. So we are right now desperately trying to find skilled labor that will go there without getting paid.”

The FBI raided the NCFE offices in Dublin, Ohio, over the weekend. CEO Lance Paulson resigned two weeks ago. Bondholders have alleged financial improprieties, but no charges have been filed.

Health Care Companies contracted with NCFE because NCFE would give them a discounted amount of cash immediately and wait for reimbursement from the government or insurance companies.

“It sure sounds good to get your money in a week rather than wait eight to twelve weeks,” Leak says. “But now their money, even money to be received in the future, is being held for a company that can’t be salvaged,” Leak says.

“Millions are missing,” Leak says. “It’s a health care Enron. Health care providers from sea to shining sea are involved in this thing.”

Find this article at:
http://www.usatoday.com/money/industries/health/2002-11-21-patients_x.htm

Mickie and the Angel

Mickie talks to the angels. She also converses at great length with the mentally retarded and developmentally disabled people who work at the Arc Thrift Store. She talks to the elderly, probably when they don’t even want to talk. There is no patronization in Mickie conversing with the people she talks to; conversation is her ministry, and with simple conversation and anointed listening skills, countless lives are made a bit better by Mickie's ministry.

No one questions that Mickie talks to the angels; everyone who knows her recognizes this as fact. We have all been brought angelic messages or given angelic insight through Mickie. It is just a fact of everyday life in Mickie’s world.

Mickie has been our employee and our precious friend since I was seeking employees in the Safford area. I was on the payphone in front of Mt. Graham Market when the angel told Mickie to approach me.

“Hi, I’m Mickie,” she said with a big smile. “I’m a certified nurse assistant.”

“Hi, I’m Mary,” I replied, placing the phone back on its hook. “You’re hired.”

That intoduction began a friendship which has become a golden treasure in my soul. Mickie is trustworthy; you can trust her with your secrets, your heart, your money and your elderly clients.

I had not seen Mickie since David’s funeral (although she had placed many unanswered calls to me), and indeed, did not want to see her; I wanted to see no one from the outer world. God had sent me Bishop Jakes, and I was slowly (very slowly) getting better, but not yet ready for “people.”

I was in a deep sleep, safely ensconced on my sofa and cuddled up to my little black cloud, when, to my surprise, I heard a tiny voice softly singing (slightly off-key), “Oh, I’ve got joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, down in heart…”

I rolled over and clicked off the TV remote to get a closer listen. “…down in my heart to stay…”

Mickie’s big smile popped into the living room before she actually entered. “Good! You’re awake!” she said, and bounced across the room to the edge of the sofa.

I pulled the pillow over my head. “Mickie, how did you get into this locked house?” I was irritated. She woke me up.

“Oh, yeah, that…” she laughed. “Well, the angel told me that the sliding door in the back was unlocked.”

“Mickie, tell your angel to mind his own business!”

She pulled the pillow off my head. “Oh, it wasn’t my angel,” she smiled down at me. “It was your angel!”

Good grief. “Mickie, don’t talk to my angel,” I growled.

She grabbed my arm. “C’mon. It’s time for your shower.”

“What?” I half yelled at her. “Are you my caregiver?”

“Looks like you need one.”

“I don’t need a shower.” The pillow went back on my head.

“Oh, yes you do.” The pillow came off my head.

It seems I remember a bit of a scuffle, then being in the shower. “Now, don’t just play around in there,” I could see Mickie through the opaque shower door. “I can see you!”

After the shower, Mickie gave me a back massage and a facial. Then she asked what I wanted for dinner.

“Ice cream,” I said. “Rocky Road.”

“Ice cream?” She grimaced. “For dinner?”

“It’s what I eat.”

Mickie started rummaging through cupboards and found some chicken noodle soup. She pulled some dead, slimy vegetables out of the fridge and tossed them. “Hah! Cheese!” She found some Colby behind some year-old-at-least salad dressing bottles. “We’re having chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches!”

“Look at that cheese,” I protested.

“It’s only mold. It trims right off with no harm done.”

I didn’t know until after dinner, but Mickie had come for a week. “You need some exercise,” she told me. “Do you know how physically weak you are?’

I did not know until the next day; I could barely walk to the end of my driveway without being short of breath and extremely tired. “That’s okay,” Mickie said. “We’ll make it around the block by the end of the week.”

Every day we walked a little farther, fighting and arguing, and by the end of the week, we had made it around the block. I was surprised to find that I felt a sense of accomplishment – like I had just run the Boston Marathon. It felt good to be on my feet.

On Saturday, Mickie decided it was time that I drove “a little farther than the MinitMart,” so we made the thirty-five mile trip to Willcox for a few groceries, then came home via the road that follows the base of the Chiracahuas then circles back to Pearce. All the way home we sang “Joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart.”

Perhaps Mickie can talk with the angels because she is one of them.

He Uses People to Help People...

Bishop T.D. Jakes is an anointed man; God has used the commanding presence of Bishop Jakes, his deep eloquent voice, and his thorough knowledge of the divine Word to guide a vast audience around the world.

It quite amazes me though, when I consider the fact that the Lord sent Bishop Jakes to speak to the brokenness of this Catholic old woman, in the tiny town of Pearce, Arizona, when I had my doors locked against the world.

You cannot lock your doors and shutter your windows against what the Lord wants you to know; He will get His message to you!

Since the television was my peep-hole to the world during the day, and my comfort of feeling there was another person in the house with me at night, I left it on all the time, only changing channels or volume.

When I retired to the sofa for the night, I would turn the channel to TBN, CBN or Daystar. I did not want any surprises waking me, such as profanity, gunfire, or violence. Also, I reasoned, I had the added bonus of maybe absorbing some of God’s Word subliminally during my sleeping hours.

One night, after a particularly broken-hearted day, I was awakened in the night hours by Bishop Jakes’ deep, resonant voice. “And it’s a shaking place, it’s a dark place…” he was saying. Yes! You’ve got me, Bishop! I’m there! I’m in that place!

I sat upright. His sermon, “Living Through Dying Places,” spoke directly to my despair. “They think they killed you,” he said. “But they just planted you!”

I felt a flicker of something deep within myself…was it hope? The tears came then, more tears than I have ever cried…cleansing tears, gentle rain after a storm tears, tears that started deep within my chest, found their way from my eyes and splashed into the sea of Eternity.

As soon as the program was over, I called the number 1.800.Bishop2, and told the lady on the line what had just happened, and we prayed together. I asked the price of the lesson, “Living Through Dying Places.” I told her that I could not afford it, but would order it as soon as I could.

She sent it anyway! I was overjoyed, and played it every day, in addition to watching Bishop Jakes’ program every time it came on. I was a long way from seeing daylight, but I was feeling the quickening of one of God’s most precious gifts – hope.

Prison and Prayer

With Bubba’s death, 2004 had proven to be a continuation of 2003. To this day, I do not know where one year stopped and the others began. ’03, ’04 and ’05 are all the same to me.

Our litigation against the county was moving very slowly (we did not know at the time that it had come to a screeching halt right after it began).

Carolyn was still waiting for the phone to ring.

I was still on the couch.

Little Dave, Lorie and my sister, Doc, called about every day, and Jenn and the boys came down from Safford on the weekends, but that, and the constantly droning television, were about the extent of my touch with the outside world.

My social anxiety had escalated in rapid jumps; I could hardly stand to go out of the house, and much to my shame, had stopped going to Mass. (During this time, I discovered that if you don’t answer the phone or the door for long enough periods of time, people will eventually just go away.)

I was so far down that I began to talk to the Lord, rather than communicate with Him in formal prayer (which I seemed quite unable to do). I told Him everything; my heartbreak, my loneliness, my shock and disbelief at the government’s actions, my inability to fight back, and the sense of powerlessness and pervading failure that nailed me to the sofa.

The Holy Spirit was my constant companion. I talked to Him all day, every day. He never left my side. (“I will never leave you nor forsake you.”). My mind was so broken that I could not make the smallest decision, and so I asked Him to decide for me. Lord, how shall I cook these eggs? Should I scramble them? Or maybe boiled would be better?

Jennifer and her boys still came down on weekends when they could, but the rest of the world might as well have been on a planet outside our solar system.

One night there was a terrible rainstorm (I guess it must have been Spring. ’04? ’05?) and the electricity went out. I needed to find a flashlight, and so, terrified, I inched my way through the darkened house.

From the central hallway, my eyes beheld a beautiful glow from the kitchen. There was light in my house! I had forgotten about the Sacred Heart candle on the little altar, but the Lord had not forgotten about me! The kitchen was light and warm and filled with love.
Piggy and I went to sleep on the floor under the table.

In an uncharacteristic display of bravery (for this time in my life, anyway), I decided to call Father Bob and explain to him why I had not been to Mass, why I didn’t answer the door or the phone and why I had seemingly abandoned my church family. (I was going to try to explain a mental illness that I, myself did not understand…)

I guess I must have subconsciously reasoned, that, since my world had stopped, the rest of the world was placed “on hold,” for when Father Bob told me that he was being transferred to Sierra Vista, my emotions ran a ragged gamut. Disbelief, shock, anger, despair – and he was leaving the following day!

I was happy when he told me that he had been promoted; he was now to be the Vicar of Cochise County! But he would be gone from me.

Father Bob had come to our little rag-tag parish, with only a handful of members, from a huge Tucson church which served many families. I had often thought that he must have felt exiled out here; now, he was going on to be Vicar of Cochise County! He would not only be the Vicar, he would be the Pastor of the largest Roman Catholic Church in the county! They even had a school at Our Lady of the Mountains!

I had learned from Father Bob. I had learned about carrying Crosses. I had learned by his love, his compassion and, most of all, by his example. During his time at St. Jude’s, he had suffered the loss of his beloved mother and a bout with cancer. Still, he never complained – he even accepted with joy! During it all, Father Bob planted and grew beautiful roses.

“Why, Lord, Why?” I cried to the inside walls of my house. “You are taking Father Bob away – all the way to Sierra Vista! I know I haven’t been going to church, Lord, but it was such comfort knowing that Father Bob was just down the road!”

The Lord allowed me to wail, rail, squall and bawl all afternoon. Then, when I fell down on the sofa in exhaustion, I distinctly heard Him speak to my heart: Mary, why do you think I brought Father Bob out here in the first place?

For me. For me, the sinner. For me, the most imperfect of all the imperfects. The Lord had brought Father Bob to me for the same reason that He died on the Cross for me. Because He loves me. Because He loves us all. Selah.

Journal Entry - February 11, 2008

I have not seen her beautiful face so peaceful in a long time. Devoid of makeup, hair pulled up on top of her head, the latte of her skin against the white pillow – I am reminded of an ancient Egyptian queen.

A heavy, gold cross is suspended on a heavy gold chain around her neck. No earrings, no other adornments - she is regal in simplicity.

An Unseen Peace fills the room.

They tell me that Carolyn is actively dying. Indeed, the presence of family and friends filling the room attest to that; but I know her strength. I know the “fight” within her spirit.

“Carolyn,” Roslyn says. “Mary’s here.” Roslyn was the receptionist at our Angel Team office. Now, since Saturday, she is Carolyn’s caregiver. “Carolyn!” Ros is a little louder now, and in Carolyn’s ear. “It’s Mary!” How many times had I heard, “Carolyn, Mary’s on the phone for you, line two.”

Carolyn’s eyes flutter open for the briefest of moments, and a half-smile catches the corner of her mouth.

“Hi Sweetie,” I get very close to her. “I love you so much,” I whisper into her ear. “You know that, right?”

Ros gives her liquid Jell-O, and Carolyn does swallow.

Lamar is frantic, moving pillows, shuffling papers. He loves her – really loves her – with all his heart! He is the good man that Carolyn waited for; the good man who stood proudly stood beside her in Church last year and promised to love and honor until death they do part.

Lamar has refused Hospice care; he is convinced that Carolyn will live.

I look at her meds, and tell Lamar, “Milk thistle. She needs milk thistle. They sell it at GNC.”

Too soon it appears that the polite thing to do would be to leave. I hold her pretty hand with the pretty pink nails and tell her again how important she is to all of us. I sit for a while and stare straight into her closed eyes. Live, Carolyn, live!

From My Brain To the Keyboard...

The farther I get into writing down all that happened, the “horribleness” of it all…a thought keeps jumping into my mind and showing itself like a trench-coated flasher…now you see it…now you don’t.

Let me see if I can reason this out - right in the middle of writing about the tragedies that the Lord pulled me through…not digressing into the tears, loneliness, wrongfulness and even the whole thesis of this manuscript…THE WAY WE TREAT OUR ELDERS…let me just work with this one “thought” and see if I can bring it to the light of my brain.

The thought:

We are a nation of consumers. All our good ‘ol boy blue-collar jobs are G-O-N-E. We no longer manufacture; almost everything is imported. Where are the funds coming from that run this country and all the cities, counties and states that are in this country? INVESTMENTS.

That’s why Carolyn and I could get no help. That’s why the law does not exist for us; because we were unfortunate enough to be on the “downside” of one of the government’s investments. And the government does not want any taxpaying citizen to see its portfolio – not profits. Not losses. The Dow Jones is the new Fort Knox.

Okay…so investments replaced jobs; Wall Street replaced Main Street, U.S.A; computers replaced real people; “The Health Care Industry” replaced the family doctor; MySpace replaced holding hands at the movies…okay…so what replaced the laws governing investments? What replaced the Sherman Act? What replaced Affirmative Action? What replaced our hearts? Where is our government…”One Nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all? Where?

Enron was different. It was all over every headline and every news station from coast to coast – because the government did not invest in Enron!

This is bad, really bad. We talked about it before…the United States is afloat on a sea of manure, sitting on an island of ticky-tacky.

This is bad. Really, really bad. And our once great country has made a liar of itself.

Carrying Crosses Part Three

The next months covered me like a damp, cold blanket, soaking cold into my bones and into my very spirit. I went to bed crying and awakened crying; there was no respite from tears. More correctly: I went to couch – I can no longer sleep in my bed.

“Little Dave” and Lorie, back in Ohio, called every day, as did my precious sister. My Jennifer, seventy-five miles away in Safford, Arizona, came down every weekend and washed up any dishes and cleaned the house. She tried to encourage me in every way possible; but, knowing me like she does, she knew that I was not coming out of this depression and sadness any time soon.

My dogs, little Piggy and Bubba, were as sad as I. They had no more desert romps, just quiet trips alone into our backyard without me. I stayed mostly on the couch, the dogs on the floor beside me and the cats perched on the couch back. The TV droned on meaninglessly for “company.”

I knew that the Lord was with me. I knew that He had prepared me for all this, but my very human mind, heart and spirit were broken.

I had developed some sort of social anxiety, and found it almost impossible to leave the house. I would telephone the MinitMart in our little town, and would go there at closing to pick up needed things (in my pajamas – I didn’t get dressed much – or shower much - in those awful days). The clerks would bring my order out to the car for me.

Jenn forced me to the doctor (kicking and screaming all the way!). Dr. Ricky told me, “Mary, you have PTSD. I’m surprised that you have not figured it out, unless it is so severe that it’s stopping logical thought.”

“Bubba and Piggy are sick,” I told her.

It was true. I reasoned that I probably did have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but my health insurance had expired long ago, and I did not have funds to seek treatment. I asked the Lord to heal me, instead.

I was also true that my dogs were sick. Piggy had developed a cough right after David’s death, and though it wasn’t bad yet, it wasn’t abating.

Bubba was producing too much urine. Although he wasn’t old – only six – he produced so much urine that he could not hold it – massive quantities of urine that ran out whenever he moved. I started putting Depends on him, and my noble friend bore it well. I took him to different vets, who tried different approaches, all involving very expensive medicine. I sold my prized green-turquoise squash blossom to pay the vet bills, and pawned something regularly to buy medicine.

Then, Bubba could not have bowel movements. I gave him enemas in the side yard where the neighbors could not see, begging him to live.

When he started vomiting undigested food, I cooked him Cream of Wheat with milk and butter and gave him ice cream.

Bubba, who had always slept on a floor-pillow right next to me, for some reason, suddenly did not want to be in the house at night. I dragged an old mattress outside and slept out there with him. Piggy came, too.

One day Jennifer came down from Safford. “Mommy,” she said in stern tone. “Bubba’s been sick for awhile, and he’s in pain. You can’t let him go on suffering.”

I argued with her. “He’s not in pain. Look at his ears perked up; and his eyes are clear and smiley!”

“That’s because he loves you.” She was starting to cry. “He doesn’t want you to know.”

We went around the corner, and, sure enough, as soon as I left the room, his whole countenance fell, and he looked like a very sick dog that was in pain.

Jennifer called my friends Liz and Randy; while they were on their way over, I lay down beside my beautiful, smart Australian Shepherd. I hugged him and kissed him and told him how much I loved him. “Bubby, do you want to go to be with Daddy? Is that what you want? It’s okay if you do.” I understood because I wanted to go, too.

My beloved Bubba left that day without me. I was not strong enough to be with my best friend when he crossed over. Dr. Mary came out to the car with an injection, and Randy and Liz, who loved him well, spoke our final goodbyes. When he left the house, I told him to “go find Daddy.” I will forever regret not being with him, and can only pray that David was there, waiting in a grassy Heavenly meadow, for my noble friend.

This is harder than I thought it would be, and I thought it would be plenty hard. I am sitting at the computer, determined to write this out, but the Good Lord will have to help me if am to go on with it. I am signing off today, February 9, 2008 4:45 p.m.

Crosses to Carry Part Two

I cannot remember much about David’s funeral, yet I can remember everything. I do not remember all the flowers that were sent to the Church, yet I can remember the smell of a single rose.

The funeral Mass was beautiful. I felt that Father Bob picked my husband up in his strong, faithful arms and carried him, like a little child, to the Lord.

Our children were broken in pieces. LaVon looked like a tiny baby bird that had been caught in a storm. Jennifer was unnaturally stoic for the sake of her boys, Keifer and Collin, and I felt that she would break – at any moment - like frozen china. Dave and Lorie were literally knocked down by grief. Meriah, our first grandchild, suffered terribly; she was “Papaw’s girl,” and she had been “special” to David since the day she was born. Hanah, Meriah’s little sister, was a comfort to Meriah (what good kids we have!) despite her own grief. David was a hero to all of us, as a family and individually.

Our friends were there. Sarah, the director of Leighton Hospice; Betsy, the receptionist at David's doctor's office (he would have been so pleased that Betsy was there!) Liz, of course, was there with Frankie, the lady who had let us stay in her trailer when we came to Arizona; the alcoholics were there in number – those who attended AA, and those who did not; many of our caregivers were there, handing me cards and sweet notes, and Carolyn was there. She and Monique, our former office manager in Sierra Vista, rode together and brought a station wagon full of food to feed all those in attendance at David’s Mass.

That day – the day of David’s funeral – was the last time I saw Carolyn “well.” As always, she took up my slack, greeting, thanking and consoling the guests; making sure they all had enough to eat; collecting the “memory book” and cards; making sure that everyone had flowers to take home as a remembrance. When the last guest had left, she hugged me tightly. “Now they have David’s blood on their hands,” she said, without emotion. I believe that she was referring to Cochise County.

My husband’s remains were cremated, as he had wanted, the next day. The day after, the kids, Liz, and I made our way high into the Chiracahuas that he so loved; I drove David’s Bronco with the kids, and Liz followed behind in another vehicle. David and I had made this trip so many times together, just exploring the mountains and enjoying life; the last time we were in the Chiracahuas together, we saw two mountain bluebirds, the first I had ever seen.
Liz, who is an ordained minister of the Gospel, conducted a farewell ceremony in a beautiful dry wash lined with centuries old boulders and surrounded by towering pines. We played “Freebird” on a portable boom box while Collin and I scattered his ashes to the Apache winds. The whole mountain cried.

The Black Pit

Journal Entry – December 31, 2003

You must be careful when exploring unfamiliar areas of this desert. Open pit mines abound, left over from the turquoise and silver glory days. Most lie flat with the ground, abandoned and coverless. A few have a strand or two of barbed wire running the circumference, but none have warning signs and all are deadly at a mistaken footfall.

David and I found many of these mines on our “desert doggin’” Sunday afternoons. Stones were tossed to check the depth, and flashlights were shined in an attempt to see bottom. We never heard a stone land, nor did the light ever find its end. “Deep,” we’d look at one another and say in unison. “Deep.”

Since I arrived in this area ten years ago, I, personally, know of three people who “just disappeared.” For the Mexican immigrants crossing the Sonoran at night, these mines lie waiting with open mouths, capable of devouring five or six people walking close to one another.

Occasionally, a rancher will miss a steer or two; most of the cattle avoid the open mineshafts, but it only stands to reason that some are lost in wandering this desert expanse. One of the first things told by the locals to new residents of the area is, “Don’t let your dog run. Keep him on a leash, or you’ll likely lose him.”

David and I conjectured about what might lie at the bottom of these shafts. Certainly, there were bones, probably some from a hundred years ago. Rattlesnakes? Good possibility.

If a person fell in, we reasoned, he’d most likely be killed by the fall. If the fall didn’t kill him, then broken bones would preclude any attempt at scaling the walls to freedom. About the only thing a person could do would be to scream for help. Out here. In the middle of nowhere. The wind screams and the coyotes howl, and any call for help would never even reach an ear.


Depression is an open mineshaft, deep and dark, impenetrable by light and impossible to climb out of alone.

I am in that pit, crawling on bones of the past, fighting off rattlesnakes and trying to get a foothold on the wall. When I make a few inches of progress, the wall crumbles in my hands and beneath my feet, sending me back to the bottom. No one knows. No one sees. No one can hear me but Jesus. Lord, please throw me a rope.

Cosses to Carry - Part One

Then Jesus said to His disciples, “If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, pick up his Cross and follow Me.”
Matthew 16:24

The cross is getting somewhat lighter. No doubt, in His great love, He has dispatched angels to help me carry it. It was heavier when I first took it up, weighted down by remorse, sorrow, shame, grief and suffering. Then, just when I had grown accustomed to its weight, a heavier load was added - the crushing weight of responsibility. Responsibility to the poor, disabled and elderly; responsibility to Carolyn, who fell by the way under her cross; responsibility to David, who, though he loved the Lord, was not willing to shoulder his cross; responsibility to Arizona’s poor, elderly and disabled who had lost needed services; and responsibility to the United States of America to which I have pledged my allegiance forever.

This manuscript has been difficult, at best, to write. At worst, it has wrenched my guts apart every day as I tap out keyboard strokes. But, I find that in taking up the cross of this manuscript, my cross of responsibility has lightened; when this work is finished, I will have done all that I am capable of doing in a fight against what appears to be the impossible odds of the entire local, state and federal governments. As one of “We, the People,” I will have fought my own war, bombed my own targets, dressed my own wounds, and will stand worthily with those who have fought in other, bigger, far away wars for the sake of the Constitution and the freedom of the United States. At the age of sixty-three, I have been called to active duty as a desktop warrior and a cyberspace revolutionary.

It is about here that some readers will drift away from this manuscript. Some readers will not understand what they call “religion,” mingling with “facts.” I cannot separate the two; Jesus Christ is a fact. It is a fact that He has brought me through the most terrible time of my life. It is also a fact that I did not want to go on – did not want to even live, much less write it all down in a prose format. But He called me to pick up my cross and follow Him. He let me know, early on in this battle, that the war was more than about me, even more than about Carolyn and David; but about our elderly; about an America whose very foundation has been eroded by lies, corruption and “shady deals”; about an America that must be brought back to the people or lost forever.

The beginning of the events that were to unravel, like a rattlesnake striking to kill, started with a vision of Great Beauty: I was lying on the sofa at the end of the day in late spring of 2002. David was lying on the other sofa playing Tomb Raider, and I was trying to block out the noise of Laura Croft fighting off attackers.

Sometimes, when I am relaxing and just talking to the Lord in my mind, He will show me sweeping panoramas of great beauty inside my closed eyes. Sometimes the vision will be a sunrise or sunset behind magnificent mountains; an emerald-green sea lapping at a sugar-sand shore; laughing children at play; birds in graceful flight, or lush, verdant forests, carpeted with velvety moss and dotted with fragrant flowers.

This particular late spring evening of 2002, I was quietly grieving for my brother who had recently passed away, and (as usual) asking the Lord to show me something beautiful to calm and refresh my tired spirit. Suddenly, in the space between my closed eyelids and my pupils, I saw it. A luscious, red, ripe tomato with its vine curled around it. My mind smiled. “Lord,” my mind spoke, “why are you showing me a tomato?”

After a few moments, the tomato was closer – much like an object in a zoom lens camera – and, not wanting to interrupt my reverie, I consciously caught my breathing and slowed it down, trying to hold on to the Beauty that was before me for as long as possible. There, for me to see, was the living, beating, beautiful embodiment of all Love – the precious Sacred Heart of Jesus! From my closer perspective, I could see that it was not a tomato vine wrapped around, but the crown of thorns! “Oh, thank You, Father!” my mind spoke to Him. “Thank You!”

The Beautiful Vision lasted a few moments more, and then was gone from my sight. I opened my eyes and sat up. I felt the enormity of His Love encompass me; all I wanted to do was to serve Him and to be loved by Him.

I am very aware that I did not deserve to see the Glorious Beauty that I saw that evening. I am very aware that I, the most imperfect of sinners, did not deserve to bear earthly witness to God’s Love. But I did. He freely sent to me “Love that I could see!” despite my carnal state. I know, beyond any doubt, that He loves us all equally – if He can love me that much, He can love the most despised that much! I will not turn this manuscript into a confessional, but my past sins are HUGE. They are also forgiven. They have been forgiven for over two thousand years, since the Son of God bled and died for me, and all mankind, on that cruel, lonely hill called Golgotha.

This Beautiful Vision still overwhelms me; I, Mary Wilson, a speck in the universe, a tiny time-traveler, a scarlet stinking sinner, actually saw the Perfect Love of our Living God! (I did not know then, but His Perfect Love would sustain and comfort me as I walked through Hell, confident in that Perfect Love because I had seen it!)

The next day, my mind kept going back to the Astounding Event of the night before. I did not tell anyone; I wanted to speak with Father Bob first.

I could not wait until I had returned home. I called Father Bob on my cell phone just as I exited I-10, and recounted the Wondrous Thing which had happened to me. Father Bob told me that he thought that I had had a “mystical experience.”

To this day, I keep a candle burning to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and will keep it burning for the rest of my life.

For a time, life on earth went on as usual. I attended daily Mass, received Holy Communion, and carried on with my work and my weekends off. David and I explored our high desert country in his Jeep, played our guitars and enjoyed one another. The candles to the Sacred Heart burned brightly on the little altar in the dining area of our home, and I considered the Beautiful Vision often in my prayers. Life was good.

November, 2002 dawned cool/crisp/hot, just the way it is supposed to in Arizona. I was working a lot in our Douglas sector, which is right on the Mexican Border. That was fine with me; I love the Mexican people and their culture, and even though my Spanish is limited mostly to menu items, I always felt loved and welcomed in our Douglas Sector.

Along about the middle of November, I was blessed to receive another message from Heaven. I had been reading about the Crucifixion of Jesus; and, in meditating the Scriptures, found that I was brought to tears by the account. Though I had read the same Scriptures before, this time I was shaken to the depths of my being.

That night, when I was meditating, suddenly there appeared before my closed eyes a Vision of Our Crucified Lord. It was painful – so painful! – to look upon the Corpus Christi with all signs of mortal life gone. His face, sweet in repose; His arms and legs, still tormented in their unnatural position; and the blueness of His Precious Blood pooling beneath His skin brought my spirit to an immense sadness and grief it had never before felt. “My Lord, my King, how much I love you!”

The magnitude of His Sacrifice was at once apparent to me, if only for the briefest of moments. It is my belief that His Perfect Sacrifice is something so very large that no human mind can fully understand or comprehend.

The Vision stayed with me all the next day – it was impossible to stop thinking about our Crucified Lord. I could not talk about it; His Visage was too deep in my heart to speak it.

The next day was Saturday, and I was half-heartedly working at the computer when David and “Billy Ten Beers” returned from a trip to Safford. I could tell that David had been drinking a bit, but I said nothing about it. He took the memory card from his Nikon and placed it in the photo printer on his desk. “I have something for you,” he said as the machine slowly spit out a picture of a red and gold sunrise. He handed the picture to me. “It’s meant for you,” he said. “He’s mad at me.”

The picture was a beautiful sunrise, but right in the middle of it was a perfect Cross. I caught my breath. “Where did you take this picture?”

“On the way to Safford – that part of route 191 with no telephone poles,” David replied, emphasizing the “telephone poles” in case I should think that the Cross in the picture was a shadow or something manmade.

“What do you think?” Billy Ten Beers chimed in.

“I think it is absolutely amazing.”

It was amazing, and became even more amazing that very night when I received another Vision.

There, in a mist, was the Cross again; but it was slightly turned so that I could not see the crucified figure. As I watched, the cross slowly turned and, to my absolute horror, I was looking at myself nailed to it. There I was, wearing tan dress slacks and a white blouse, hanging from the cross as if in some imitation of Our Lord. I was terrified, but would not tear my mind away from the scene for fear of missing that which God wanted me to know. There is absolutely nothing divine about me – I was scared to death, especially since I could not tell if my body was still alive or not.

The cross, along with the vision of myself, disappeared into the mist and I sat bolt upright, my heart racing, hyperventilating and shaking. What did this mean? What was to come? Was I going to die? Lord, please tell me, What does this mean?

The only way that I could calm down was to remember the Blessed Sacred Heart of Jesus, and the comfort, peace and Love imparted to me by the Sacred Heart. I had no way of knowing then that I was to hold onto the Sacred Heart Vision for a long time, clinging to it as a life preserver in a stormy sea. Actually, I am still holding on to it.

One of the few people to whom I have confided these visions asked if I thought that God had warned me of what was to come. I strongly do not feel that He warned me. To warn me would have implied that there was something that I could have done to change the outcome of the terrible things that ensued, and there was nothing I could do to change anything. It was all out of my control.

I know that the Lord prepared me for what was to come, and I find His Love and Grace, in preparing me, to be completely astounding. So immense is His Love, so without end is His Grace!

We received no more payments on our submitted payroll billing from Cochise Health Systems, and although times were tough, still God sustained us. As you have previously read, our means of financial support suddenly stopped. I spent the winter of 2002 –2003 writing letters, making phone calls, and literally begging for someone to make things right. I learned of the NCFE bankruptcy shortly after Cochise Health Systems pulled our contract, but the knowledge did us no good; the rest of the world denied it.

2003 passed slowly amid mountains of legal papers, research papers and depression. David’s sporadic drinking escalated, and though it upset me, I was too weak and depressed to try hard to change it, worrying every day if we would have electricity, heat or groceries. I could hardly blame him for escaping on the highway to Old Milwaukee.

Carolyn and I spoke daily on the phone, trying, mostly in vain, to be of some moral support for one another. She still dressed in her best every day; still put on her makeup and jewelry; still sat in a darkened office, waiting for a telephone that never rang.

I was still attending daily Mass, and drawing closer and closer to the Lord. I desired closeness with Him above all else; He was my unchanging Rock.

Father Bob talked to me about Crosses. I downloaded from the Internet, and read, St. John of the Cross’, “Dark Night of the Soul.” I learned that God draws us closer to Him during our own “dark nights.”

Fall turned into winter of 2003, not much of a change here in Arizona, but by December, we had been nine months without work, and the Christmas season was looking pretty bleak.

Carolyn and I talked one day about the Christmas party we had given for our employees only year before last; we both agreed that it seemed like an eternity ago, and, we both agreed that we had depressed one another crazy by reminiscing about it.

Carolyn was still sitting in the office, every day from nine till five. The phone had still not rung.

In looking back on December 14, 2003, I remember how the day felt. It did not fit, somehow. Like a dress your mother bought for your sister and decided at the last minute to give to you, the day did not quite fit into my week, my December, or my life.

David went to shoot pool with a friend. “Don’t worry, Babe,” he reassured me. “The very last thing I want to do is get drunk.”

Another odd thing: Ordinarily, I would have been sick with worry about his drinking, but, that day…that day…I did not worry. I decided to bake muffins for Christmas presents, and busied myself in the kitchen all afternoon.

At four o’clock he called me. “Hey!” I said. “Come on home and help bake muffins!”

“I can’t Babe,” he responded. “I just called to tell you that you are my best friend and the best person that I have ever known.”

I could tell by his slurred words that he was drinking, but teased him anyway. “Is that all?”

“I also called to tell you that I love you with all my heart.” Was that a tear in his voice?

“I love you, too,” I whispered. “With all my heart. Come home soon and safe.”

It was dark and about six o’clock when the headlights of his old Bronco cut through the kitchen window. Looking back, it seems that the headlights were somehow rounder that night – it seems like the Bronco was wearing a frightened face, hoping that I would notice and do something to help.

I was taking a batch of muffins out of the oven when David walked into the kitchen from the carport. He was gone – the David that I knew and loved was not “at home” behind those blue eyes. He was out-of-his-mind, blackout drunk, and wanted to argue about anything insignificant that he could think of.

I do not remember the statement that he made as I put more muffins into the oven. I do remember my answer, “Well, I guess we’ll know when we stand before God, won’t we?”

In looking back into the pain of that night, it seems that David and I were not alone in the kitchen. In memory, I can feel – so strongly that I almost see - many angels there, prepared to stop the horror of that December night, as they probably had on so many nights before; but they stood still, in tableau, as if commanded by some Unseen Presence to let it go, let it happen, let it be, let David’s choices be David’s choices.

I turned from the oven and in a split-second knew my life would be forever changed. In the ultimate act of drunken hopelessness, David had a .45 to his head.

I lunged for the gun just as it fired. “No, no, no, no, no!” I screamed and fell with him.
I began CPR immediately, but soon realized that my husband had just sustained a large caliber gunshot to the head – he would leave this earth soon, and I had to take care of – as best I could – his precious spirit.

I stopped CPR and grabbed a bottle of Wesson oil from the cupboard. Kneeling over him, I asked God to bless the oil, and I anointed David in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Then I lay down beside him, in the curve of his arm, and put my hand upon his chest, hoping that I could catch his last heartbeat and keep it with me forever. Our dogs, Bubba and Piggy, came quietly into the kitchen and lay down on his other side with their chins upon his chest. Both our dogs cried quiet tears that ran down their little faces and onto the front of his blue shirt.

I talked to him as we all lay there on the kitchen floor. I told him that I knew he didn’t mean it, and that I would be okay, and that I would take care of the kids and the dogs and the kitties. I told him over and over what our life together had meant to me and how much I loved him. I know that God let him hear me.

Our friend Gary, and his eleven-year-old son, Roy, came walking into the house unannounced, as was their habit. I sat up onto my knees and screamed, “Don’t come in here! Get Roy outside!”

Roy thought of David as a grandfather, and called him Papaw, just like Keifer and Collin did. David had taught the kids how to drive the Jeep over all obstacles in the desert, how to call quail, and how to pan for gold. He had taken them exploring all over the Sonoran, the Dragoons and the Chiracahuas. I did not want any of the kids to see this bloody horror. Papaw was their hero.

Father Bob came. The sheriff came. Westlawn Mortuary came. They took him away, into the night, into eternity, into an away-from-me place.

Liz came and gently pried me from Father Bob. “Come on, Honey, you need a shower,” I remember her saying.

My next memory is of being in Liz’s shower. The dried blood ran off my hands and arms and face; all that I had left of David’s person ran red down the shower drain. Liz yanked the shower curtain open. “What’s that in your hand?”

“It’s…it’s a tiny piece of bone…it came out of my hair…”

“Mary,” she demanded, “give me that.” She grabbed a paper towel and held out her hand.

“No.”

Liz handed me a towel, and placed a folded one on the closed commode. “Sit,” she said firmly.

I sat down, soaking wet, with the precious tiny piece of bone clutched in my hand so tightly that it cut my own skin and brought my own blood.

She knelt in front of me; my friend, my good, good friend, trying so hard to drag me from the depths of Hell, and I was resisting.

I held out my hand to her. She took the piece of bone and placed it in the paper towel, then washed the blood away from the cut on my palm and covered it with a band-aid.

“Don’t throw it in the trash!” I screamed.

She looked at me through eyes flooded with unshed tears. “You know I won’t,” she said softly. “Get dressed, Honey.”

While I was dressing, Liz buried the little piece of bone somewhere on her property. “With a prayer,” she said. To this day, she will not tell me where, and I have stopped asking.

Journal Entry - February 8, 2008

Carolyn called me today from Sierra Vista Hospital. I did not know that she has been a patient there since January 31. She sounded fuzzy and far away; her speech was slurred
and halting.

Today it is official. It is not just my worry about her; it is not just “a bad feeling.” Her doctor told her that she is terminally ill with a prognosis of three to six months.

I feel like Butch Cassidy in the last scene of “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid:” Sundance had been saying that they would never make it out of that little shack alive, seeing the reality of a buzzillion federales with a buzzillion rifles pointed right at them;
but Butch, ever the optimist, convinces Sundance that they can escape and make it to Bolivia. Together, they run out of the shack with six-guns blazing, and, of course, they die.

I wanted to say to Carolyn, “Look, you just have to hold on! I’m writing this blog to let everyone – regular people like us – know about what they did to us! And after the blog, a book that people can buy – and you can be the editor, or the publisher, or something – but you’ll have a nice office and a desk and a phone that rings! Just hold on for a little longer!”

But I didn’t say those things because I know that we are coming down to the final scene; and, of course, no matter how convincing I am, she’ll still die. Even all my tears won't stop it; she'll still die.

Carolyn is forty-two years old.

Journal Entry - February 6, 2008 - Betrayal of Public Trust

Charlene just called and we discussed the fact that John McCain has a substantial lead the morning after “Super Tuesday” for the Republican Party’s nomination.

Even as a jin-yoo-wine Alabama-born “Dixiecrat,” five years ago I would have headed for the polls to vote for this honest, elderishly handsome, clear-eyed war hero. I would have been proud to be an Arizonan, with our “homeboy” running for the presidency.

After having been lied to; after having seen the suffering of want of “basic life” services on the faces of our elderly Medicaid recipients; after having my own entire world ripped asunder to perpetuate a secret; after suffering the degradation of much my world being told that I am a “loose cannon” and a “nut case;” after having been denied the law and its basic American Constitutional precepts, I want to vomit at the clean face this man presents to the American people.

In our conversation this morning, Charlene brought up a subject that I thought I had exhausted in this manuscript – the LGIPs (Local Government Investment Pools)

“I want to know what they did with the money from the LGIPs,” she stated tersely.

“Well…Duh…Like, they lost it!” I answered her.

There was a pause, as if she were still reflecting. “No,” she said. “I’m not talking about the big, fat, humungous loss…I’m talking about all the times they played the stock market with Medicaid accounts receivable and taxpayers’ money and won.”

“Wonder what they did do with the money,” I mused.

“Maybe that’s why it’s a secret,” Char continued. “Maybe they kept the loss secret because if the people found out about the loss, they’d want to know about the profits.”

“Well,” I said, “I was working our contract back then, and they were pretty stingy with the hours given to the Title 19 recipients, so one can only assume that the money did not go back into Medicaid coffers. There was certainly no overabundance of services…matter of fact; I remember a lot of people having to fight for more service hours. So what could they have done with the ‘winnings?’ Built highways? Bridges? Improved schools?”

“Stop thinking like an honest person for a minute!” Charlene demanded. “Since they don’t want the public to know about the LGIP losses, they don’t want an accounting. Maybe they used the money to fund overblown salaries, or maybe they put it in special interest projects to benefit their special interests. One thing for sure, they don't want John Q. Public to look at a Profit and Loss statement...especially one that involves his money!”

“They have betrayed the Public Trust,” I said. “They all need to be impeached.”

"All of them," Charlene said. "Remember the Federal attorney from Tucson who sent the letter promising you a 'full FBI investigation?'"

"Yeah," I replied. "I wonder if it was just the Federal attorney who was in on it, or does the FBI approve all this, too?"

"We have no way of knowing," Char said. "Do you still have that letter?"

"Of course I do! I have it, and the letter from John McCain denying all knowledge in a very safe place. Out of state, and not in Ohio, either. I don't want my family hurt."

"Good. How soon could we get to the letters?" she asked.

"Depends on who's driving," I said. "If I'm driving, six hours. If you're driving, well...three hours."

We were both silent, both of us mulling the whole thing over again.

"They've all betrayed the Public Trust," I repeated. "They all need to be impeached. They violated my trust, everything that I believed about America, and stripped me of all civil rights."

Charlene paused another moment. “Amen.”

Just Crossin' All the "I's" and Dottin' All the "T's"...

Folks reading this who are located back East, North, or, West in the Golden State, would not believe this place. Remote and craggily beautiful with spots of culture, no other location on earth can compare.

However, we do have our difficulties; I don’t believe that a secret the magnitude of the NCFE bankruptcy and the loss of Medicaid funding could have been kept anywhere else in this nation.

Crime and punishment are kind of wishy-washy around these parts – especially, in some cases, the punishment part. Examples: Four people were in a trailer house just down the road, drinking and doing drugs, and things started getting out of hand. One person acted as executioner and shot another in the back of the head, then burned down the house; the body was found in the rubble. The executioner ran away but was extradited six weeks later from another state. Although he was held in jail for three months, the Grand Jury refused to indict, and he was released. The everyone-look-stupid-now-and-swallow- this-one “reason:” The witnesses (the other two people in the house that night) were drinking, thereby rendering them “unreliable.”

Another scenario: A thirteen-year old girl was playing harmless pranks after dark with neighborhood children. She knocked on a window, and then took off running and giggling.

The occupant of the house chased her down in a pickup truck and shot her in the back. No, he was not arrested. The Grand Jury refused to indict. The entire town of Willcox was outraged, but their rage, like all rage against the machine out here, is confined, and finally dissipates, inside the state borders. The state won’t do anything, and nobody outside the state will listen.

I seem to remember when kids got grounded for stunts like that…not chased down and shot…

Scenarios go on and on, but then, that’s another book, isn’t it? The purpose for writing this particular segment (which has nothing to do with the NCFE bankruptcy and the horrible ways our elders live and die) is this: I don’t know if it’s true, but local legend has it that someplace in Southeastern Arizona, a husband and wife were involved in Constitutional Rights and wondering why Constitutional Rights are so scarce out here. They were protesting pretty loudly about it, trying to draw national attention from national authorities.

It seems that their remote house was battering-rammed in the middle of a moonless night by a team dressed in black, who injected the male and the female victims with methamphetimines, then shot them with AK-47s; their cocker spaniel and blue heeler were shot, too. Only the cat escaped through a pet door in the wall.

Some packaged illegal drugs were thrown about in the rubble, and guns were placed in the lifeless hands of the couple. “Drug Bust. Resisting Arrest. It’s All Good.”

Just in case this is not a legend, I need all the Powers That Be to know that I do not now, and have never, used illegal drugs, nor bought and sold them, nor manufactured them.
Hair samples, complete with follicles, are in safe places around the country (none are in Arizona), complete with witnessed, notarized statements from those who pulled the hair from my head.

I believe this to be necessary since I am spilling things out into the internet that were never meant to leave highly guarded closets.

But...like I said...it’s probably just a legend...

Perhaps someday we will have statehood for Arizona, giving us someone to appeal to, and giving them someone to answer to.