alleged president bush tried his hand at massage

is old. It was 1980, the fall.
Daddy had been sick for a decade...
(used up his life force primarily by 30 -- role models like
John Wayne and the rat pack -- smoking and drinking and
chasing women or chased by women -- he was very handsome;
and least I forget... the old 'once a Marine, Always a Marine --fighting)

Fighting! Ha. 1968
I was being driven around town by a fellow student scouting
props for a play which required lots of props-- YOU CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU.
We are stopped at a red light in an older section of Indy.
A pick-up truck goes by with two men fighting in the back.
One of the men was my dad. I didn't know whether I was embarrassed
or proud. Lord. Who was the grown-up. I was stunned. and then some
years later, not long, I was sitting by his side trying to cheer him up.
Give him hope, help ME cope.

Daddy had been sick for a decade. He had quadruple by-pass.
That Cancerian had his chest cut open and pulled apart.
Cancer rules the chest/breast.
He told us; had he known the depression of it, he would rather have died.

All this is in response to the comments
after posting the picture of 'Alleged President' Bush
trying to massage a gal who didn't agree with being touched...
(made the national news)
the views of her reactionary distressed missed-comfort
excuse while I come up with self-made words to
describe the boondoggle of the intent.

I was sitting next to Daddy.
"You will feel better Daddy, everything is going to be alright."
He turns to me.
"June Ellen, someday George Bush is gonna be President and
I don't want to be around when that happens."

Didn't help much when someone tried to assasinate Reagan the next month.
The month after Daddy died. Daddy who had said: "Reagan won't last,
George Bush knows every assasin in the world."

I didn't know that Bush thing had a something.
aka Bushbabyboy.

Lots of folks have had suggestions and ample answers
way before my time here on Mother Earth...
Jesus, Einstein, etc etc...
try something new. practice what is preached.
oh lord aren't we tired.

In '91 there was an awesome Poetry reading in Indy.
A fund-raiser for Etheridge Knight who had cancer... the liver cancer
from drinking and drugging so much of his lighted and livid life.
He lived in my neighborhood. For a long time I offered to get him
on the massage table, but I couldn't get the rum out of his hand.
I don't want a massage when I've a drink of wine.
I don't like working on someone who has been drinking.
I had that rule a long time before I broke it and it sure the hell
wasn't alright then.
Lost my front door.
For the fellow wanted something more.
anyway. Robert Bly was on stage (and Sharon Olds and
Lord I don't recall all... they paid their own expenses to be there
for Etheridge.)
Robert Bly (this was during Desert Storm which is Laos Part 30
or Viet Nam part 23 as this Iraq thing is Desert Storm II
and III for Afghanistan)

Robert Bly made a call from the pulpit for impeaching Then Bush...
I stood up. Let's go. and nobody did a ding-dong- darn diddly thing.
It was also eleven years since Daddy had died.

All alone in the big old dark house, enjoying the issue of
the monthly rag and calendar of the Healing Light Center Church
in California I read a piece that inspired me by
Rev. Rosalyn Bruyere. The article calling for us to send love and light to
our President. No matter what -- he was our leader and we wanted him
and needed him to have our support. Sending him Light and Love was
the better thing for us to do.

I swear I did it. I was determined to change myself, since I certainly could
do that. And after that, I thought I saw confusion in his eyes
whenever I saw him in the media.

I wish I had asked my father what he meant by that remark back then;
no need to explain it now.







And I wish I could send some Light and Love now.
heaven help me calling all angels.

For when I returned to Indpls after being away my littlest was
not eager to show me her school work which was glorifying war
to 6-years-old children.

We are not empowered. We are indoctrinated.