"IF your daughter could joke "Dad, my mom still have feelings for you" that means dad and daughter have a good friendly relationship. We could throw jokes of that sort to each other. Good, right? Well, I hope that those feelings aren't ones that border on something like "I hate Trump!" or "I hate your Communist friends!" LOL! Lookin' back three decades, I'd admit, yes; politics, hardline politics figured in my past and how I waded around it as I held on to fatherhood. Remembering heals. It is surrender. Humility. My life was as far (or close) as I made it myself. There were many pieces and people around, a hard and dangerous time--but it was me who made it, good or bad." - Pasckie Pascua Jan. 12, 2017
"Thanks for posting this Pasckie Pascua. There's a ton of people in this world who have somebody else to blame everything that they do on. I'm wanting to scream "you're responsible for your own actions". I have a sister in prison who blames her son because she's there. She went with him when he was making a drug deal...he was set up. Everyone in the vehicle was charged & all are in prison now. She continues to place the blame on him. My questions for her were who did he learn about drugs from. Answer, in his own home as a child, her; but it was only pot. My opinion; when you are smoking & dealing pot in front of your minor child...it doesn't matter that it was ONLY pot...you're setting that child up for failure. My stance on her getting busted with him...she knew he was going to buy heroin...why ride along? She got 18 years, he got 7. She still screaming & trying to make it his fault she rode along. I'm know I'm responsible for my actions, so I am careful about what my actions are. ( except after major surgery, that anesthesia will make you say some crazy shit). What don't people get about being held accountable for their actions?" - Sue Foster
"Let me say fear is a factor, Sue Foster. If not fear as a factor it is the factor..." - Gregory E. Woods
"Thanks for sharing, Sue. I hear similar stories. A lot of finger-pointing. When I was young, I used to blame my dad a lot for not "loving" me as he did my other siblings--just because I am/was always the kid who will say it as I see/saw it, including his mistakes Yet he let me do my thing even in those years that I was still under the roof of his house and feeding me. And how I pursued my life--exactly on the polar opposite of what most my family believe in. Although I never did drugs or succumbed to alcoholism or did any of those classic bad dude shit, I still believe I fell and failed. Yet they never let go. I ran far and long--yet they always find a way to locate me. These days, I talk with people who will blame their mom and dad, the church, schools, the government, even the weather, just about anything and everything--except themselves--for their failings and mishaps. Blaming is anger. There was a time as well when I blamed the dictatorship back home for my life and pains and it took years and many travels for me to come to terms with the fact that it's all me. Anger isn't going to set me free. We get bad societies and presidents and officials, bad preachers and spiritual guides, bad milk in the grocery--but as long as we are good within, we will know how to work around the bad. Rage still gives me sleepless nights when memory comes back from those years, especially when I read about deaths and children dying in the crossfire. I get angry. But anger's truth or source is blurred by its tone. When we are angry we aren't really communicating our pain or frustration. Most people hear the sound of anger/hatred and fail to listen to its pain. But one way to simmer the anger down is not to blame the world as though the world owes us some apology. We have life and life blesses us with a rational mind and a good heart. I believe that--we are all good than bad and we will overcome." - Pasckie Pascua
"We came up rough & hard as well. I've had / still could let the anger overtake me. It's been a long troubled path I have traversed. Early on I knew I had to find a different way to deal with the rage inside me. I was broken & didn't know how to fix me. I lived out in Yancey county in a shelter in the woods & spent most of my time alone. Then I started hitchhiking to Asheville & hanging out in the coffee house's not saying much, just observing & I started opening up & interacting with people. Before long I hitchhiked to California with some people. I lived in the mountains at a religious retreat & met people in similar shape. After about six months I was ready to move on. I hitchhiked back & visited my folks. Then took off again & again, trying to find something inside me. Looking back, I see sometimes I was running just to be on the run. I walked a lot of my rage out, literally. I steered clear of a lot of people because my rage wasn't their fault & I didn't want to treat ppl as I had been treated. I finally let enough go to where I could function in society & found peace within. I still walked a lot, but quit hitchhiking. I am good within & I worked around the worst of the bad by walking & exploring the US. I simmered mine down by exploring & not blaming. I'm thankful I was able to get out that way. I also believe people are more good than bad & we can overcome. Thanks for sharing your stories!" - Sue Foster
"You walked out the rage? So did I. Never met anyone else who did that. I used to talk to God in the worse language for 20, sometimes more miles than I cared to count before I was exhaushed from the hike and the cussing and the crying. I'd look around then and realized I needed a ride home. I never carried a phone. Well, only the rich and pretentious did back then; so I found a place to sleep in the woods or snuggled under a pine tree in someone's front or backyard and sleep until I could have some strength to walk back home.
Walking yoga I called it. Or walking prayers.
You walked out the rage? So did I. Never met anyone else who did that. I used to talk to God in the worse language for 20, sometimes more miles than I cared to count before I was exhausted from the hike and the cussing and the crying. I'd look around then and realized I needed a ride home. I never carried a phone. Well, only the rich and pretentious did back then; so I found a place to sleep in the woods or snuggled under a pine tree in someone's front or backyard and sleep until I could have some strength to walk back home.
In retrospect, those were good days because I grew from there and that to this who I am right now." - Gregory E. Woods