Negative feelings certainly has a victim. That victim is he or she who holds them in an unreasonable manner. This is not a “9/11” post, but any similarities might well be noted.
I have written on the Big Orange for a very long time, sometimes with better and sometimes with poorer results. Those of you who have read my posts will know that, several years ago, I was accused of a heinous crime, and was innocent of it.
Here is what happened Tuesday past. I thing that it might be of interest to people.
I have no intention of going into the details of what I was accused of, but the outcome was that I never went to trial because of exonerating DNA evidence and the real circumstances of the event. With my attorney’s advice I pleaded to a misdemeanor plea to disorderly conduct, because it would have taken a fortune to defend myself and that plea would make it go away. I am not so sure of that wisdom now, but that is done.
Anyway, and this might get a little closer to the actual circumstances, the legal guardian of the person against whom I was supposed to have committed an offense was brutal in insisting on prosecution, even though the individual had a history of false accusations and of some felonies. Anyway, I had to defend myself and hired the best attorney in the area.
It dragged on and on and on in court, and finally my attorney told me that they had nothing against me, but they wanted sort of a trophy to show, essentially, that no one gets away. I gave him $2000 in cash, in addition to the $750 retainer, and less than $200 in court costs to the county. The only caveat was that I was to have no contact with the “victim” for two years, and I honored that. As a matter of fact, I had no contact with the entire family, right next door.
I lost my job over it, and I was making pretty good money at the time. Folks with security clearances can be let go for essentially nothing. Sequalae also caused me to lose my wife, and much of my carefully saved retirement money.
This is the picture of my life from early 2006 until just a couple of months ago. The husband of the woman who wanted to prosecute me to “the fullest extent of the law” knew the real story, and was always friendly to me, when his wife was not watching. He even told me that he knew that I was not guilty, but if his wife ever caught him talking with me that he would suffer.
Around June of this year, their youngest foster child (just last week turning 18 years of age), pushing around her out of wedlock baby in the stroller, asked me if I was “Cool” with her. I never had anything against her in the first place, and told her that I was, and that I do not hold grudges anyway. We talk often these days, me making sure that we are outside and that others can see our activities. I might be stupid, but I do learn slowly.
Her mixed race 15 year old cousin and I had always gotten on well, and we have talked off and on just after the two year prohibition was over. He is a nice kid. But here is where it gets weird.
Last Tuesday, the youngest foster child came to my door and asked for help with her “mum”. It turns out that she had fallen and could not get up in the kitchen. The girl had taken her baby to a very nice lady across the street to be looked after for a while, and the girl could not pull on her “mum” because the girl, as she told me, had stitches in her throat because of a tonsillectomy the day before.
OK, now here I am. I am being asked to help the woman that wanted to see my in prison for something that I did not do, and no one else with enough strength was available. Many people would have just said, “NO!, She wanted me in prison!” Many others would have referred the girl to 911, and get the paramedics to pick her up off of the floor. Except for the “mum”, everyone had been nice to me since the “Event”.
This is just me, I guess. I walked out the door and stood until the girl told her “mum” that I was there to help, and who I was. I would not walk into that house without the girl who seemed to be realistic with me. Then, there the “mum” was, in the floor of her kitchen. She had righted herself to her back, but still could not get up off of the floor.
I told her to try to get her lets and feet under herself, and she did on the floor. Then I stood behind her and told her to push with her legs as I put my arms under her shoulders to lift her. On a “1, 2, 3”, she tried to get her legs back while I pulled up on her, under her shoulders like a rescue worker would. Around 280 pounds is not easy to lift (I am not exaggerating), and I put everything that I had into it. She began to move, but the girl, who was there, could not help because of her stitches. I got her about half way up, and her head was sort of interfering with the lift because she planted the back of it in my abdomen, stopping the lift.
This was not working well, but I had the girl to take her hand from the front and pull her away from me, a bit. Then I had the girl put the “mum’s” hand on a sturdy cabinet shelf, and betwixt the two of us, she regained her feet. She sort of said thank you, but not very much, and I left as soon as she was upright.
To this day, she never has come to thank me personally. I saved them a 911 call, and all I get is silence. But at least no more persecution (as opposed to prosecution). I feel better about the whole situation.
Jesus always said to love enemies. Whilst I am not a Christian, I do believe that Jesus got lots of things right.
Now I can speak to the folks next door without any fear of bad things. Actually, I helped the cousin fix a flat on his ATV Friday, and everyone was OK with it at their house.
Still, I have some fading harsh feelings towards her for her wanting me in prison for something that I did not do. I am not sure that those will ever go away completely, but I also have better feelings about the whole thing because we seem to be proper neighbors now.
The moral of the story is just this: the folks that you abuse for no reason just might be the ones upon whom you call when you are in real need. So, do not abuse folks for unfounded reasons.
This is probably a very disjointed post, but I needed to tell the story that it is possible to reconcile with a perceived enemy. I certainly do not want to be praised for being a Good Samaritan, because if the girl had not asked me personally, I would have let the “mum” lay there. Does that make me a bad person? Your thoughts are welcome, either praising or condemning me, or in between.
Featured at TheStarshollowgazette.com. Crossposted at Dailykos.com