Posts filed under ‘a Cow -elle opinion’
The day war was declared- your Nana, a survivor of living history,remembers that Sunday well like it was yesterday.
It was one of those defining moments in life. A war, that saw your grandfather have his youth , innocence and joie de vivre ripped from his being , not to ever fully come back to him.
Their young lives changed forever by a few words spoken on that September 3rd .
Your life was changed forever and ended by words – you have cancer
I know that I have changed but I hadn’t realized how much. Last month a gift- a VHS tape – found on the floor of the garage-
Your dad brought in the bag of VHS tapes and started to play them. There you were, once again, your childhood played out in the pool, on the soccer field , rowing boats , Christmas morning, skiing laughing and loving with us
I still can’t watch most of the tapes , it is like trying to breathe underwater. Looking at the dance tape of Nikki with Braedyn and Gavin – little Braedyn glued to the screen as his mummy danced, Gavin telling his mummy – you are beautiful
I saw myself , the MC of the event taking center stage – I was so confident, knowledgable , open to the audience , carefree, laughing, smiling and welcoming. I saw myself in a swimming pool with our family, your sister and friends racing the lengths of the pool , the music of laughter rang once more in this house as the tape played and those voices of summer came back from the past. .
And then a Christmas morning , the living room which held so many Christmases, your Nana and I sitting on the couch surrounded by presents , the noise, everyone talking at once, the puppy – that was Sheena , the paper wrapping making a pile in the center for Sheena to attack. What struck home with me was the laughter and conversation in which Nana and I were engaged. We didn’t stop talking and laughing – I was confident enough to make a complete fool of myself with the most horrendous pair of earrings. I still have those damned earrings , but I no longer have you or the me that I was.
I knew I lost ME when you got cancer and died- but I hadn’t realized how much of me I had lost . I was looking at another person, not recognizing her at all anymore. She died too and I grieve for the faces of life caught in a web of video. I grieved for the loss of laughter, happiness and confidence. I am so different , no longer the daughter, wife, mother , friend and neighbor of before.
I am reminded by the collage that will play such an integral part of the book I am writing “of you”
Confidence Gone- I opened up to you and my lack thereof – in Texas on another September day as you wrestled with cancer and untruths- set in a holiday setting of palm trees and sparkling waters – I spoke to you that day – unsure…
You see when a son marries he brings into his life another woman- it is very difficult in the best of circumstances for a mother to sit back and watch decisions being made that in some cases I did not agree with in a normal situation- this terrible situation we find ourselves all thrust into makes it doubly hard. But I have deferred to you both and to her “medical expertise” with this obscenity of Hodgkin’s that has engulfed us. It has been one of the hardest things in the world for me not to interfere or to put in my two cents. There have been times Chris, when I have doubted my own abilities and lost confidence in myself – I have gone against my own gut feelings and yet there is a voice that tells me to still be protective of you .
and so I continue – no longer me – no longer with hope, no longer belief in a greater all knowing supreme being, no longer happy, welcoming and confident just a transparent shell of before…. whose smile only surfaces when two little boys break through the endless night of losing you…….. the other self
This anniversary week , of what used to be love and celebration, has arrived and with it gulping pain. Gulping, because I hold my breath to stop the tears from burning my eyes, blinding me , trying to breathe and all that happens is I gulp for air as the tears flow unabated.
Chris, the day of your birth , as you left me to start a life of your own also found tears , tears of happiness , I gulped and tried to breathe as the contractions became intense , waves of pain then too, but at the end of the pain insurmountable joy. My son, you my beautiful baby boy, put into my arms for the first time.
There were wonderful birthdays that followed but I hadn’t been able to remember them because of your last birthday . Your first and then your last birthday and remembered pain
Once again in a hospital , but I was not surrounded by those that loved me, just clinical cold and vacuous clowns.
My whole being was fraught with worry that morning , my insides were shaking and sick with fear, what would they find? My son going under a surgeon’s knife – cutting into your neck to see if the obscenity of the curable cancer had once again beaten the ” treatment”.. I just wanted to go somewhere quiet away from chatter with my thoughts. I didn’t want to be polite. I just wanted peace.
They coffee clutched the time away with their frivolous discussions of fashions, cake , birthdays and celebrations seemingly without thought of how this would affect those that did truly love you ). If there ever was a time where I heard my own grandmother’s voice it was then ” Remember Loraine, breeding will out”
I wanted to scream and shake them as the grandmother decided it would be a good time for a betting game- we were all supposed to pick a time from the time your name came on the big board informing us you were now in the operating room as to how long it would take for you to be under the knife and the time of the surgery .
“Angela, (Ritchey now Murphy http://my.clevelandclinic.org/staff_directory/staff_display.aspx?DoctorID=16147 ) it isn’t fair though you can’t be part of this as being a doctor you would know the answer – giggle, giggle, giggle” Lisa what do you say? Frank? 45 minutes, 55? an hour?
and so it went.
Nikki had excused herself and I was left alone with them. I ignored the game as best I could and tried to ignore them, all the while wishing they were somewhere else – anywhere but there, but the puerile woman would not shut up –
Come on Loraine you must have a guess, join in – otherwise you won’t win! Angela , do we have time to go to the cafeteria – Loraine isn’t it your birthday too in a couple of days – it is Chris’ today isn’t it – will you have a party, what kind of cake, will your mother be baking one or two?
Shut Up! are you all so damned insensitive you can’t see your imbecilic diatribe is ripping me apart, I don’t care about your nonsensical games , I am in torment that my son will die- can’t you see our pain you stupid,selfish people?
So I haven’t even been given the gift of remembering HAPPY birthday, as the gift I received that last birthday was the gift of death.
Surrounded by the clowns of control who carried on their narcissistic thinking and behaviors until the day you died and beyond.
And yet, this week I did receive a gift of you. I don’t know why , then again maybe I do ,but a video tape ( yes a VHS tape) fell out of a bag in the garage, your father, curious, picked it up. None of us can remember how or why the tapes were in the garage of all places – the basement- I could see but why they were in the garage that sits at the end of the garden separate , full of tools and junk is beyond me.
The tape, was of your sister dancing at an event when she was 21. Your dad brought in the bag of VHS tapes and started to play them. There you were, once again, your childhood played out in the pool, on the soccer field , rowing boats , Christmas morning, skiing laughing and loving with us .
I could only watch a little bit at a time as it too caused pain that is indescribable but it affirmed to me the gift of ” her thoughts”- that Nikki and I wouldn’t like) I received from your bride Angela Marie Lombardi Ritchey Murphy ( now remarried )
you know the “healer” – the words -
“I think your intense love for Chris shielded you from getting to know who he completely was.
and not forgetting how Dr. Angela ( Ritchey) Murphy wrote 4 months after Chris’s death writing to tell me
my son although he would defend me even when I didn’t deserve it – would put me in my place-
Angela’s gift of compassion??? so thoughtfully given…..
Yes, as painful as it was to look at my son enjoying his life with his family before those cretans of control and the insidious crew of cruelty and self entered our lives- watching what I could bear to watch of those tapes only reminded me that
I knew my son and he loved us and his place was with us and still should be .
My gift to you , Chris is my heart, the truth, and your story, the book I promised to write for you !
and the hope that one day I will be able to look upon your face ……
or perhaps “I detest what you write, but I would give my life to make it possible for you to continue to write.” Voltaire
There is some “discussion” as to the actual attribution to Voltaire http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voltaire but whomever interpreted those words or actually said them – they are very powerful words. Words, that a great many in this country and others who believe in “freedom of speech” carry with them in their hearts.
But I ask you – WOULD YOU DEFEND TO THE DEATH THE RIGHT OF SOMEONE YOU DIDN’T AGREE WITH TO HAVE THEIR SAY?
Supposing you didn’t have to actually die to make your stand for the right of another to disagree or express a differing opinion ? Would you then enter into a fray – even though, although not death but, a verbal assault that would come with an , insulting, ridiculing and vicious back lash aimed at YOU for your defense of another’s opinion whether you were in agreement or not?
That is the question I am now asking myself – me of the supposed “higher principles” who has spouted off time and time again about “Freedom of Speech” – Freedom of thought “Freedom to Write”.
Have I finally realized and acknowledged -I am a hypocrite? I talked a good game, got on my soap box time and time again – knowing that actually I never really made a difference but at least I registered my opinion and thoughts. . I had belief and passion but NOW – NOW in the world, so changed by the loss of my son – I am no longer passionate, no longer care or am I just beaten down by the uselessness of it all?
A recent situation in this tired and desperate City of Lorain has seen a seething , biting cat fight clawing at the right to have a differing opinion to the vocal majority.
This not so uninvolved bystander has watched as cyber bullying, on air bullying took the place of debate and I have stood by and watched as the rabid rhetoric of majority has pounced on the freedom of opinion and I have felt the ripple effect of it. It seems I won’t even stand up for myself so why should I make a stand for others .
Is it, as my son’s poster points out from a time when he himself was fighting for his own right of freedom of speech.
Speech can segregate you from everyone
that I am afraid of being alone????? – No! even that isn’t a good enough reason to stay away from the fray? I could be no more alone than my current situation of being locked in a world of hurt….. it isn’t that – I am at my lowest ebb – nothing people can say or do can hurt me more than the pain I already experience every waking moment .
So why don’t I, I who have the tools, to at least try to defend the rights of others? I look at my son’s artwork – he who was so passionate about patriotism , this country and freedom in all things and guilt comes crashing in – because I know he would have been disappointed in my lack of action – even if it makes no difference because – “at least you tried………..”
To be continued … MAYBE
Part Two – A History
Part Three- The Rhetoric of Right
As I entered the building, following Karen Davis-County Facilities Director, my thoughts turned quickly from my trepidation at entering the bowels of a supposed “pit” – a smelly, dank and dire place with mould and slime dripping on heads, rat droppings and certain risks to my health – to dismay as I saw what had happened to this once grand old lady.
The vivid pictures in my mind of decay, as described by Tim Lubbe and the darling of the media attorney, Chandra, as they had sent photographers willy – nilly around the building showing the disgraceful conditions.
You can view photographs of the “troubled areas” in this article in the Chronicle Telegram
Commissioner says old Lorain County Courthouse not so terrible Filed on June 26, 2014 by Brad Dicken
Lubbe said workers deserve to work in a healthy and secure workplace. Lubbe said if commissioners insist they stay at the courthouse, the court will comply, but it will cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to make repairs.
He said problems include water and raw sewage leaking from the third floor into second-floor rooms where employees work. Lubbe said the lobby accommodates about a dozen people, but 100 come through on a regular basis, making it unsafe
I asked Ms. Davis to take me through all the areas complained about, photographed and written about in “legal ease letters from Chandra ( after all I, the taxpayer was paying for these epistles). To her credit, Ms. Davis made no comment as we toured the building from top to bottom.
YES! it is disgraceful but not because of unseen rat droppings, or mould and slime dripping on heads. What was disgraceful is the fact a once beautiful, ornate and powerful building has essentially been assaulted. I was greeted by a rabbit warren of cut up offices, walls thrown up to make cubby hole offices- with no regard to atheistic or the buildings mechanics let alone historical significance
ED NOTE-LORAIN COUNTY ADMINISTRATOR JIM CORDES STATED:
The only significant renovation after the seventies was the installation of a court in the basement when a new judgeship was ordered in Lorain county. The rest, as you view it now was worked in and around everything that happened prior. And none of us were here for the court installation in the lower level
The building is just chopped up to the point where we can’t do good work here,” Cwalina said. “We just can’t.”
walls covered in textured wallpaper- all adding to the “sponge effect” of grabbing odours and bacteria , holding fast. That, coupled with the trapped air, air only recirculated in summer with air-conditioning and winter with heat. No gentle breezes wafted through open windows.
As I walked though one area, there was a definite odor. This area was one of the area where everything had been closed off and not one bit of “fresh air” circulated. The odour wasn’t gas or mould but BODY ODOUR of the many who passed through the area . The building has BO! It needs an airing!
The feeling of sickness in my stomach came not from the smell of gas but the odoriferous lack of design, care and disgraceful treatment of this once proud house of justice by those that “improved” . The people of design in past decades , the decorators who painted over her body had prostituted her for their own ends. They had ripped from her innards any worthiness and covered over the beautiful wood work with purple based brown paint.
Did anyone speak for the victim as she was sliced and diced? Did not one person in all those decades of abuse ever say NO? Was there one among those who said “this is wrong- we are destroying our own historical worth- we the gatekeepers of law and government- did no one advocate as they lowered her ceiling covering up the artisans craft of centuries?
Ah and NOW they complain she isn’t good enough for a third world country . Those who have painted over her remaining doors, painted her walls so the bricks can no longer breathe, trapping in her 10 inch walls the very moisture they now complain about. They have laid rubber and plastic on floors that used to breathe and glow with the fragrance of beeswax. Every so often peeking out from the “mediocre modernization” a glimpse of what used to be .
The room where the gym resides – where men and presumably women work up a sweat , as they workout on gym mats ( always such a pleasant smell – gym floor mats), punch the bag and lift the weights. No longer do breezes, carried by the outside trees, enter the room to erase the stink of man.
A room full of old clothes, presumably handed out to those clients in need , clients of the Probation Dept. One has to ask could not those items be dispensed through another agency as the stench of old shoes mingled with the musty odor of the rest of the contents? It certainly added to the odors.
As we walked out into the corridor once more, another entranceway was bricked up- on the other side was a huge panel and a storage room which maintained the original integrity of the brickwork and wooden floor and surprise – here at least there was no smell of “progress” some dust but no decay and bacteria assaulted the nostrils
Did those who came after the architect and builders in 1881 have no inkling as to why buildings were designed and built they way they were? There was a purpose and a method in their madness as they built their buildings to last and make a statement .The high ceilings allowed for heat to escape upwards in the summer – those have been lowered and covered over with acoustic tile now trapping the air , heat and germs.
The thick walls retained heat in winter and stopped summer heat. The walls breathed – no longer- they are covered and suffocating under paper and layers of paint. The improvements of the decades are “killing” the building slowly.
Hardwood floors, for the winter warmth and cooling tiles in areas where water could splash and coolness were needed. Doorways and windows designed and placed strategically to bring in cross breezes to air out the building. All these have been bastardized shrunk down and closed permanently.
Buildings are more than the sum of their individual components. The design, materials, type of construction, size, shape, site orientation, surrounding landscape, and climate all play a role in how buildings perform. Historic building construction methods and materials often maximized natural sources of heat, light and ventilation to respond to local climatic conditions
Operable windows, interior courtyards, clerestories, skylights, rooftop ventilators, cupolas, and other features that provide natural ventilation and light can reduce energy consumption
Thick masonry walls typical of the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries have inherent thermal characteristics that keep the buildings cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter. Walls with substantial mass have the advantage of high thermal inertia, which reduces the rate of heat transfer through the wall. For instance, a wall with high thermal inertia, subjected to solar radiation for an hour, will absorb the heat at its outside surface, but slowly transfer it to the interior over a period as long as six hours
We finally came to the famous “feces toilet”- the doorway padlocked the toilets wrapped in plastic.
ED NOTE you can see photos of Tim Lubbe’s complaints here https://www.dropbox.com/sc/ea02qpuxqp24jme/AABBAOKr08J5Z-ktbPxcySpna
Obviously, since those pictures were taken “clean up” and repairs have been accomplished. Dampness and or leaks will cause the intricate plaster work on these lovely old buildings to deteriorate and decay. That is a problem of lack of maintenance or leaks not detected.
Most of the pictures in the Lubbe album are due to failing plaster and paint and the bastardization of added heating and electrical systems over the decades with no regard to the integrity of the structure
Back to the toilets, which in the photos are a disgrace.
-the door is locked now ( and obviously the toilets are now cleaned and secured ( there is no running water in that bathroom) – A bathroom that no one apparently knew was being used- well except by the people using it . As stated, in one of the previous news articles, the Commissioners were unaware the “Probation Dept.” had been moving their ” offices etc’ to that floor -
and the door was unlocked – not because of a toilet access – but access needed to the electrical panel and the light which is also housed behind that door.
I wondered who had been using those facilities? Was it the homeless also was mentioned in a Chronicle article- clients of the court-house – workers and WHY didn’t anyone ever call maintenance upon discovery of such human filth?
I could go on and on BUT there is not much point you see although I have come to a conclusion:
My judgment in this case – The Demise of Lorain County Court House
– IS TO FIND THE JUSTICES THE COMMISSIONERS OF DECADES PAST
E.W. DeChant-J.E. Davidson- O.G. Dunn (circa 1940) -
GUILTY OF “CONTEMPT” OF THE HISTORICAL WORTH AND LEGACY LEFT TO THEM AS GUARDIANS OF THIS YOUNG COUNTRY’S WORTHINESS AND VALUES!
GUILTY OF ENABLING THE CONTINUED BASTARDIZATION OF AN ICON OF THIS COUNTRY’S AND COUNTY’S HISTORICAL RECORD , AND LEGACY. FAILING TO CORRECT THE ACTS OF DEGRADATION BY THEIR PREDECESSORS AND THEREFORE NOT FIT GUARDIANS OF A NATIONAL HISTORICAL REGISTERED BUILDING .
I FIND THE “JUDGES OF TODAY” –
GUILTY OF WASTING TAXPAYERS MONEY IN THROWING DOWN THE GAUNTLET IN THE FIRST PLACE AND FORCING, THROUGH THE HIRING OF AN ATTORNEY (CHANDRA), MORE MONEY TO BE WASTED BY THE COUNTY.
BOTH PARTIES ARE FOUND
GUILTY OF WASTING THE COURT OF PUBLIC OPINION’S TIME IN A MATTER THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN SETTLED AMONG THE RESPONSIBLE ELECTED OFFICIALS!
However, as Judge Burge likes to say the above is “moot” because what little of this edifice’s past glory is left will soon be gone as well- according to an email received on July 30th from Tim Lubbe:
….It is my understanding that the County Commissioners have determined that the Adult Probation Department is to be situated in the old Courthouse. While it is the Court’s position that the costs of remodeling this facility far exceeds the expense of relocating the Adult Probation department to the 5th floor of the Justice Center, nevertheless the Court acknowledges that it is the Commissioners prerogative to spend or misspend money as they deem appropriate.
Additionally, I would note the remodeling to be performed will strictly focus on functionality not historic restoration. In fact, any remaining historical features in the building’s interior will likely not survive this conversion…….
What a sad ending for a grand old lady!
I am so glad I come from a land (England) that recognizes the worthiness of history , the buildings , the craftsmanship of yesteryear. I cannot fathom the thinking of those that dismiss so lightly their own history- We are but the caretakers………. but most do not care……….