Watch more videos at PETA.org

How long must this deplorable act of cruelty to turkeys continue? What kind of human finds the mass slaughtering and heinous treatment of these gentle creatures as being acceptable as a way to make a profit for the traditional Thanksgiving meal?

I implore you, take the time to click on the embedded video link and watch the horror show in how your packaged, de-boned, plucked, and ready to bake turkey becomes your main meal for Thanksgiving.

Why not gorge yourself with a huge helping of mashed potatoes, dressing and a tofu roast with tons of gravy? We all know how much Americans love to pork out on Turkey Day! So eat till your hearts content, but just be aware of what you’re eating and where it came from. If you truly desire to eat a turkey, then at least buy it from a reputable source.

Have A Happy Thanksgiving!

Guru Whattanuttananda

We are happy to announce that Guru Whattanuttananda is back from his long sabbatical in the wilderness. Our featured guru is as wise-cracking and real as ever. We hope you will find his satirical sage advice somewhat helpful. Enjoy!

Questioner: Hello Guruji, welcome back. Dr. Phil says that Self matters and we need to “Define our Authentic Self? I’ve been to see many teachers, healers and therapists and have attended yoga retreats and even signed up to a life-coaching event. But, so far, I’m still the same person with the same ups and downs and feel no different. Can you help me find my authentic self?

Guruji: Authentic Self . . .what is it this new buzzard word buzzing around creating more money opportunities for so-called healers etcetera etcetera, to keeping you always occupied looking for something that is no farther than the tip of your nose? Look in the mirror . . . will you not still have hair, eyes, nose, limbs, moles, warts, perfect teeth etcetera etcetera? I say phooey to this nonsense about authentic anything! Instead why not be paying attention to your thoughts? Find out who is the watcher watching the world . . . pay attention to the very second you have a feeling, an emotion that stirs. You shall be learning for yourself, the only authentic anything is this very second, moment that is happening right now. There is no authentic person, place or thing, to discover . . . so why be looking anywhere other than the very tippy toppy of your own nose. If you are looking for approval or happiness from others, then you will be having trouble even looking in the mirror. For one must be appreciating what one sees when looking in the mirror. If you are not, then you will always be looking outside of yourself. And, by all the means of the world, if you are not liking what you are seeing in the mirror, then get rid of all mirrors. Stop worrying about finding answers to meaningless endeavors . . . start enjoying your relationship with yourself. Find out if you can be in a room with no phones, no technology, no books, and see how quiet your mind is or not. Okey-dokey!

Questioner: Guruji, I’m a 20 year old girl in my last year of college, and I feel that my future is hanging on a thin thread, with all the global problems, from the economy being in the toilet to the climate changes and natural cataclysms. I am constantly worrying about everything. Can you help me?

Guruji: I am understanding your concern. However, even though I can not be changing the weather, or the strife and meltdown of the current economic situation . . . I can say this to you, your worrying about these things will not change anything — it will only be making you more anxious and afraid. What you can be doing are little things such as getting involved in environmental organizations, or voicing your concerns to your local, state and national politicians. Why not be creating a blog and address your ideas to others and see what may transpire? After all, blogging and tweeting, I am liking this tweeting, tweet-tweet, fun isn’t it? Anyway, this is the new way for communicating on a larger scale. Besides, when you are writing out your ideas or thoughts, it is a way to release what seems to be sitting inside your mind. Getting rid of that weight will most certainly be making you feel better at the very least. And as you Americans say, Go For it Girlfriend! Guriji hopes there is a smile on your face.

Guru Whattanuttananda wishing you all joy within your heart and mind.

Before

After Devastation

Father and Son after the devastation

After witnessing the devastation in Sendai, Japan caused by the recent earthquake and tsunami, and now the serious threat of a nuclear meltdown, don’t you all feel silly and stupid for continuing this endless war-game you have thrown us, the global citizens, into?

Will you all (and by all that also includes political parties, special interest groups, corporatists and war-mongers) lay aside your anger and hatred, your fragile egos, and self-centered pride, and direct those feelings into compassion for our brothers and sisters in Sendai, Japan whose lives have been gravely impacted by recent events.

WE have had enough wars to last us hundreds of lifetimes. These senseless conflicts have burdened and ruined economies, displaced people from their homes, killed thousands of innocent victims , created strife and suffering for the aged and sick, women and children. Need I go on?

WE must open the door instead of looking through the keyhole to see the larger scope of what is happening right before our eyes. We’re in dire shape. Life on the planet is becoming worse by the day. And waging war is not the solution to the problem. Even before the Sendai cataclysms occurred, we have been experiencing serious global changes that are going to kick our arses big-time.

When it comes right down to it, WE are all facing the inevitability of death. It’s not how long you live for? It’s HOW you live? Do you want to go out in anger and hatred with regret and resentment for what you could’ve, should’ve or would’ve done? Or, leave this world with a clear mind that you did your best — no regrets with plenty of compassion and forgiveness to spare?

WE all share this planet. No one owns it. So let’s own our responsibility as custodians of the earth. There is no more time to waste – right now is the only moment that counts. Do something good for those who need help! Whether you believe in positive thoughts, prayers, meditation, rosaries, donations . . . whatever it may be – YOU and only YOU can own that moment!

Cheers!

Below is a list of well-established organizations that are providing relief for Japan’s survivors:

Action Against Hunger/ACF-USA
American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee
AmeriCares
Architecture for Humanity
Catholic Medical Mission Board
Convoy of Hope
Direct Relief International
Doctors Without Borders, USA
Food for the Hungry
International Rescue Committee
Relief International
Save the Children
Stop Hunger Now
World Vision
American Red Cross
GlobalGiving
International Medical Corps
Mercy Corps
Oxfam America
Samaritan’s Purse

At the end of every year most of humanity will reflect on the past year and compare what has happened during that time to the present. Is it because at the stroke of midnight, December 31st marks the beginning of something new and fresh that will usher in a promise of a better future? And the year’s past events will seem but a blurry memory and not a reminder of what, we, as humans had failed to achieve?

You believe that you must make new resolutions that will improve your lot in life. Or at least resolve to fulfill the past resolutions that went unnoticed, like completing that novel you started 2 years ago, or joining a yoga class, or falling short of losing that extra ten pounds you had sworn to lose last year.

Or due to circumstances beyond your control did an event occur which had made a huge impact on your life – like a divorce, the death of a loved-one, job loss, housing foreclosure, a natural cataclysm such as the Haiti earthquake? In which case, you were subjected to deal with it and hope for the best.

Whatever the situation, we as human-beings, feel inclined to be with loved ones at an intimate gathering to share those final 10 seconds of count-down leading up to the moment when the clock strikes midnight and then we toast one another, share kisses and hugs and perhaps reflect on all the past events good and bad. And then with great resolve we make declarations that will hopefully bring about positive changes in our lives.

Indeed, it is a pleasant occasion to be with people you love and care for – and around the same time, someone else from another country may only be grateful for a bowl of rice and a corrugated roof over their head, and they too will hope and believe that one day their life will change for the better. The only difference is that they won’t have a fluted glass filled with champagne to toast in the New Year.

Instead of making tenuous resolutions that you will most likely forget about, why not make a concerted effort to look at each day as a new beginning, rather than wait for the end of the year to come? A new day that will garner a change in perception, such as looking at someone who isn’t the same color as you, therefore they are not like you. So why don’t you look at them as you would a flower? There are many shapes, sizes and colors, and varieties, and yet they are always perceived as a beautiful flower. Or take a moment to reflect on the intelligence of nature when she ushers in a change of season and how you can welcome this change as something new and grand. Volunteer your services once a month to a charity organization, take up a cooperative gardening project, or write your congressional representative and voice your concern about the state of the economy, the environment, rather than wait for others to do your bidding. These are ideas that don’t require a change from you but more so as a change that can be caused by you. Think about it!

Every day, whatever unfolds in each moment, you can make a difference in your perception about life. And in that effort of seeing each day as a new beginning, perhaps you will keep your New Year’s resolution this time around.

So don’t wait until the end of year is near to reflect on all that has happened, reflect every day and you will see a great transformation taking place.

From my heart to yours, Gram of Truth wishes you a very happy moment in every day for the rest of your life!

Happy 2012!

Today is Labor Day. All across America, millions of people are discovering that the best way to celebrate Labor Day is by not working.

Do you live to work, or do you work to live?

If you are married, look at your wedding album; are there any pictures in there of you at work?

And on your tombstone, do you want it to say, “I wish that I could have spent more time at work”?

Here is what Robert Kennedy had to say about this, 42 years ago:

“Too much and too long, we seem to have surrendered community excellence and community values in the mere accumulation of material things. Our gross national product … if we should judge America by that – counts air pollution and cigarette advertising, and ambulances to clear our highways of carnage. It counts special locks for our doors and the jails for those who break them. It counts the destruction of our redwoods and the loss of our natural wonder in chaotic sprawl. It counts napalm and the cost of a nuclear warhead, and armored cars for police who fight riots in our streets. It counts Whitman’s rifle and Speck’s knife, and the television programs which glorify violence in order to sell toys to our children.

“Yet the gross national product does not allow for the health of our children, the quality of their education, or the joy of their play. It does not include the beauty of our poetry or the strength of our marriages; the intelligence of our public debate or the integrity of our public officials. It measures neither our wit nor our courage; neither our wisdom nor our learning; neither our compassion nor our devotion to our country; it measures everything, in short, except that which makes life worthwhile. And it tells us everything about America except why we are proud that we are Americans.”

When Robert Kennedy said these words, the unemployment rate in America was 3.7%. Today, it is almost three times as high. Too many of our working brothers and sisters are out of work, thanks to over a decade of economic mismanagement. 10% of us are unemployed, and the other 90% work like dogs to try to avoid joining them. Which is just what the bosses want.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. I look forward to a Labor Day where every worker has a job, every worker has a pension, every worker has paid vacations, and every worker has the health care to enjoy life.

My opponents call that France. I call it America, an America that is Number One.

Not #1 in wasted military expenditures.

Not #1 in number of foreign countries occupied.

Number One in jobs. Number One in health. Number One in education. Number One in happiness.

As Robert Kennedy famously said, “I dream of things that never were, and ask ‘why not?’” Why not? Let’s make it happen.

And then all of us who are Americans, including the ones today who are jobless, homeless, sick and suffering, we all can then say, “I am proud to be an American.”

Are you with me?

Truth,

Alan Grayson

And then a man enters. A man I have seen many times. He
looks my way, yet he sees me not. Oh, but do I ever see him, the
green of his eyes, the arc of his brows, the strands of gray amidst
a thick, dark wavy head of hair. And the delicate lines that etch
the curves of his mouth. His stride is confident and relaxed.

He passes by and to my surprise he sits right behind me.
I can hardly contain the giddiness within. Feeling the warmth
of his back just inches from mine sends me spinning. The
mere presence of his being causes any appetite for food to
plummet, and my voracious appetite for passion to escalate.

I imagine we are lying on a bed of soft, green moss in the middle
of a forest, filling the atmosphere with particles of joy and rapture.
Him, kissing the nape of my neck, me caressing the tautness of
his back. He whispers in my ear. A warm sensation shoots up my
spine. We kiss with extreme passion locked in each others arms.

Time does not exist . . .

I don’t know how long it had been since I was caught up in
this fantasy when I hear a voice say “hello”. I turn around
to see him smiling at me. I smile back. Face is flushed
with naughty embarassment. Did he know what was going on
inside my mind?

I feel a strong impulse to tell him how often he has invaded my dreams,
my thoughts? Yet knowing all along it is I who creates these images,
not him. Is that pathetic or prophetic — him being so familiar and
yet a complete stranger? This stirring of my emotions is the affect
the Son of Eros has upon my psyche.

Perhaps I shall keep him in the dream realm — there we will
always have a safe haven where passion for love can morph
into endless bliss. In the meantime, we exchange names, and
he invites me to join him rather than eat alone. I wonder if he
is Greek?

Let’s begin with why our country is in such dire straits.

Outsourcing Jobs.

Let’s stroll down memory lane to the early 1980’s when the U.S. was experiencing a slow economic growth period compounded by high unemployment and high inflation commonly referred to as “stagflation”. Back then our government began to sell high-yield government bonds to foreigners who saw this as an opportunity for safe investment. When a bond is purchased, the purchaser is lending money to a government, municipality, corporation, federal agency or other entity known as an “issuer”. The issuer provides a bond that promises to pay a specified rate of interest during the life of the bond and to repay the face value of the bond (the principal) when it matures.1 Imagine how the foreign investors must have felt knowing that as long as the US government is obligated to repay the principal and interest on the bonds, this gave them the peace of mind to know that they could maintain steady rates and be guaranteed a cost advantage.

That created a big problem for American industries.

Certain industries were plagued during that time, despite assistance from the government. Michigan and Pennsylvania that were once strong industrial states were experiencing massive job losses. American car companies had to create radical changes to ensure cost parity and profitability. GM closed one of its largest factories in Flint, Michigan and moved it to Mexico. Outsourcing manufacturing jobs to cheap labor was a way for companies to return to profitability. The trend toward outsourcing which started in the 80’s had exploded in the 90’s. Thus NAFTA was formed during the Clinton administration creating the “free trade” agreement with Mexico and Canada. NAFTA opened the doors for jobs to leave America in pursuit of lower wage rates, non-existent environmental standards and trade without restrictions.1

With Outsourcing came Globalization.

U.S. multinationals were already experienced with manufacturing overseas, so they took the next step and began setting up IT and research departments overseas as well. Now we come to China and India. With advancement made in technology and communications, this allowed transnational companies to fully globalize with little out-of-pocket expense. Again, cheap labor with the same level of technology expertise found in America, but without the $100,000 per year entitlement and the added expense of health and medical insurance coverage per worker.

For every dollar we spend in buying products made in China, we increase the size of their economy and decrease the value of our own American workers. I’m all for each country to climb out of the poverty well and into a better and healthier lifestyle which should be the intention of all governments to pursue. To care for their people. To make sure that they have the very basic infrastructure for a society to flourish. Wait a minute, isn’t that our very own “American Dream” that so many people believe in?

We’re now in such debt to foreign countries, especially China, that I can’t even fathom how our government, no matter which political party is in office, can pull us out and stabilize our debt to these foreign investors? According to U.S. Treasury data released on June 15, China held $900.2 billion in U.S. Treasuries at the end of April. Add to that two foreign wars against countries that never attacked us or any of our allies, and we have financial and human loss in unfathomable proportions. We have racked up trillions of dollars of deficit, a suspicious housing crisis, unthinkable job losses, and now we are experiencing an unprecedented environmental catastrophe on our own shores that will critically impact generations to come. Most of this debt will hit the American taxpayer — who else? Yeah, perhaps BP is paying for the current clean-up and offering payouts to those workers or business affected by this calamity, but the future repercussions aren’t even tallied yet.

Now there’s talk of risk of a “double dip” recession according to certain economists, and the political stakes for the Obama administration are rising as the midterm elections get nearer. Don’t blame the Obama administration for the massive economic crisis we’re experiencing as a country. Read and investigate where all the wealth and power has gone before you start pointing the finger. Come election day, we can either elect the same kind of mentality that got us in this predicament in the first place. Or we can use our gray matter and start assessing information. A well informed mind can make an educated guess. Our disappearing society is something that will have an impact on every single American rich or poor.

The banks, the corporatists, the manufacturers should all be held accountable. As long as they are making profits, they are not in any hurry to create jobs or to help those who are losing their homes. As long as government funding streams in to bail out bad debt, the banks are growing into behemoth entities and becoming more powerful than our own government. It seems as though they knew something like this was going to happen way before it did. Stop property speculation from ever happening again, and bring back some normalcy to real property investment. Refinance the existing mortgages that were formed before the housing crash, which would ease their own debt or give those home-owners a chance to sell without taking a huge loss. Everyone wins. The banks get their money. The owner gets to breath again, and new home-owners get to purchase a home at a reasonable interest rate. The market will grow at a steady pace, American investors can re-invest in their own country, people will find jobs and feel proud of what they do, and markets will begin to flourish without the exaggeration of Wall Street howlers. And the government can start increasing tariffs on foreign investors which will keep greedy investors and sellers from running amok.

Sounds simple. But with so many hands in the pot, and so many puppeteers pulling the strings of our politicians, that simple idea is something that will probably remain just that, a simple idea.

Please remember who started these wars. Remember who walked away from one of the worst financial crises in our history without so much as “I’m sorry”. He lives on a ranch in oil land and hasn’t a care in the world. Nice job “Brownie”!

by the Editor of Gram-of-truth.com

1History of Outsourcing
by Thomas Heffner
August 2010

‘Hullo,’ said the sleepy voice.

‘Chris, it’s me.’

‘Anna Marie, what’s wrong? What time is it?’ Chris said, sounding alarmed.

‘Sweetheart, who is calling us at this hour?’ said Jean who I could hear in the background.

‘It’s a quarter to five,’ I said. ‘Sorry, Chris, but I have a situation or should I say we have a problem.

‘What kind of problem?’ I could sense the legal-eagle rising in him. Then he must have cupped the phone with his hand to tell Jean who was calling them at this rude hour.

‘Chris . . . Frank is alive –- he called me at four this morning.’

‘Jesus H Christ!’ he said, voicing incredulity as I had anticipated he’d do with the blood probably rushing to his head. Then there was air silence at the other end of the phone.

‘Hello, hello, Chris.’

‘What did the bastard have to say?’ he said in a cold, steely tone.

‘Don’t be that way, Chris. I know you’ve never forgiven him, but he’s still our father.’ I suspected that years of resentment wanted to pour out of Chris but he refrained from doing so. I could hear him take in a deep breath.

‘All right, what did Frank have to say?’

I told Christopher about the brief, yet urgent message, stressing the part about the formula. My brother was never privy to the formula that Frank had shared with me, and had never shown interest in Dad’s fantasy adventures. He was telling me to stay out of Frank’s business altogether because he didn’t want to see me get hurt again.

‘Look, sis, he’s been gone for over two decades. Bloody hell, we all thought he was dead or very well should be. Especially, if he didn’t even have the decency to show up at our mother’s, his wife’s, funeral. Come on, you know how dramatic he can be? I think he’s just trying to con his way back into your life. Stay away from him and from that warehouse — he’s bad news.’

I let out a huge sigh. I could hear Jean in the background agreeing with what Christopher had just said. It was easy enough for her to do so because Frank wasn’t her father. ‘You’re probably right. But aren’t you the least bit interested in what has happened to him for all these years?’

‘Frank gave up whatever rights he had as a father to make me feel concerned. And it would behoove you to let the past remain where it belongs, in the graveyard.’

A chill ran up my spine when Chris said those words. ‘But what if he calls again, and asks if I’ve done what he requested?’

‘Tell him to call me — I’ll set him straight. I will also tell him that we should have sold that barn of a building he’d strapped us with long ago, and that our mother had to keep up the tax payments on it, thinking he would return one day. She was too good for that prat!’

Chris sounded harsh and angry right now and I regretted having called him. ‘Sorry I woke you and Jean, I just thought you’d like to know that Frank is alive.’

‘It’s OK, A-M. Try not to let this upset you — you’ll see that I’m right about him. Tell you what, why don’t you drive over this weekend? We’ll go out on the boat and forget about all of this.’ Chris knew I had taken two weeks off from work because of over-exhaustion and stress. I think it was fair to say that he was a bit concerned about my mental state.

‘Thanks, but I need to concentrate on the shop,’ I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘Maddy has been a saint and I’ve been away too long.’

‘Very well, you know we’d love to see you (pause). Anna Marie, I don’t mean to sound like such a cold fish. I know that hearing from Frank is a shock to you — it’s a shock to me. But we have to remain detached from him. He could cause more damage than good, especially to you. He’ll take advantage of your current situation. You know what I am talking about, now that you’re living alone again.’

I’m sure he could feel the icy vibes coming through the phone. He knew he’d hit a raw nerve with me, as I haven’t divulged too much information about my breakup with David. It was a taboo subject and the fact that I was almost forty, still unmarried and living alone was another sensitive subject whenever it had to do with my brother’s concern for me.

‘Thanks for the advice. I’ll talk to you later,’ I tried not to sound too offended by his tactless comment. ‘Please apologize to Jean for me, for waking you both up at this hour.

We both said our good-byes. I sat at my desk fretting over the conversation I’d just had with my brother. Who could blame him for feeling the way he did about our father? After all, he did leave us high and dry.

(to be continued next week)

copyright by Adele L Nieto
April 2010

Like a zombie I slowly arose out of bed, went to the bathroom and then stood facing the mirror. The reflection showed another woman’s face. Surely that ghastly image couldn’t be me? It looked too frightening! I was supposed to have come back from a two-week respite in the tranquility of the Lake District feeling relaxed and looking rejuvenated. Instead, I could be a poster ad for the living dead. Dark circles had formed under my eyes. My face was sallow and my long, dark hair looked greasy and dull. Then to add insult to injury, the obvious strands of gray sprouting at the sides of my temples stood out even more so, reminding me of what time and age could do to a person’s appearance.

When I was at the Lake District, in the sanctuary of my hotel room, I had managed not to look at myself in the mirror. I went there to heal and to un-celebrate my thirty-ninth birthday. For two weeks I had spent every day inside my room in my pajamas scanning through self-help books. I had ordered room-service meals that I barely touched, and only ventured out at night to sit by the lake — that was because I couldn’t sleep. I could say that my physical and mental deterioration were caused by two major events: my beloved mother died nine months ago, and my five year relationship with David had ended less than two months ago (the wounds were still fresh). And now I can add more salt to the wounds – my dad had come back from the dead. Or I could admit that I am a very fucked up person ergo having caused my own suffering. I didn’t know whether to feel angry and resentful, or elated and relieved by Frank’s phone call. Why now after all of these years had he resurfaced?

Repeating the words “F-A-P SIX” in my mind made me wonder why he was asking me to use the formula? And why was it a matter of life and death? I needed to sort this mess out, which required a substantial dose of caffeine. I went into the kitchen to make coffee. I could barely walk without feeling the tension in my solar plexus.

Staring at the coffee machine and willing it to hurry was making me more anxious. Can’t wait. Need caffeine right now. I removed the glass pot and placed my cup under the filter. Then I sat on the barstool and held the cup to my mouth recalling the many years it had taken me to get over my “anger-denial” issues, which I usually blamed on my father’s strange disappearance. I completely adored him and had an immature notion that he would always be there for us. After all, it was because of him that I had become interested in antiquities. From the time I could remember, we always had an agreement that I would join him in his antiquarian business after graduating from college. Well, it’s my own fault for having any expectations of anything or anyone. It always ended up in disappointment.

Whilst sipping my coffee I sat staring through the kitchen window. It was dark and dreary outside. The weather had been cloudy and gray since the middle of May. The forecast was more of the same for June. People were calling it “June Gloom” — I called it “typical English weather”. Considering the way I have been feeling lately the gloominess matched my emotional and mental state.

It was going on 4:30 a.m. and the rubbish collectors were out in their lorries conducting their routine. Living up in the loft of an enormous three-storied house allowed me to see farther out and not directly into the window of the neighbor’s loo. I gazed through the window for a few minutes longer until I became too overwhelmed with agitation. I needed to talk to someone. I wanted to call Maddy but she’d chew me up and spit me out if I messed with her beauty sleep. I also knew I should call my brother but felt reluctant to do so. What I needed to do was to find out what Frank was up to?

I decided to go along with his little charade about using the formula. I sat down on the sofa with my laptop. I typed in “FA Premiership UK” in Google search. I clicked on the first site at the top of the list. I then scrolled down to see the final standings of the Premiership. I jotted down the last letters from the names of each of these six teams and assigned each letter a designated number from the formula. I multiplied it by nine, which was the “key” number, and then subtracted it by three. I hadn’t used the formula for donkeys’ years, and was amazed that I could still work it out. When I was around twelve years old Frank had devised the formula. He’d explained to me that it was necessary to have a secret code for important things like combinations to locks. He used the formula whenever he would store valuable merchandise inside his fireproof safety vault. One system was for the combination to a metal case and the other was for a combination to the vault. I used to think that he had a vault stuffed full of money. What else could be more valuable than that?

Now that I had the combination to the metal case I was ready to figure out the one to the vault. The procedure would be the same, except I would use the first letters of the names of the teams and their corresponding numbers. It was easy enough. All you needed was the sporting event and the statistics for the month or week. For example, one month it could be Rugby; another month it could be Cricket. In this situation, it was the top six teams in the Football Premiership. I thought the formula was an ingenious system. I entered the combinations into my Palm organizer. I folded the scratch paper I had written on and stuffed it inside the top drawer of my desk. Then a wave of anger washed over me. What in the world was I doing playing cloak and dagger with Frank? Was I actually going to forget about the years of anger and pain he had caused all of us, and how he had lied to us, to me? I needed to get a grip on things so I decided to have a bath.

Whilst soaking in the tub I was thinking about how all through my adolescent years I used to spend my free time in Frank’s warehouse, helping him catalogue books and manuscripts, clean up the store, and read through the countless vintage periodicals he’d collected. Christopher, on the other hand, would be at home reading history books and doing his homework. Eventually, he would go on to graduate from Oxford Law School and I would go on to start an antique business with my old college chum, Madeline Hightower. We called our store “Keys to the Past”.

With so many thoughts whirling around in my head I needed to sort them out. First of all Frank must have been here very recently in order to have reset the combinations which meant he would’ve been here in the past two weeks, because the FAP Finals were just played at the end of May. Was he still here or had he made the call on his way out? And if he were here, where was he hiding? Was he at the warehouse?
I thought the time had come to call Christopher even if it would mean waking him up and having his wife complain — he would know what to do about the situation.

(to be continued)

copyright by Adele L Nieto
April 2010

‘Hello,’ I said, sounding agitated but there was no response at the other end.

‘Hello,’ and still no response.

Switching on the lamp I squinted at the clock and saw that it was four in the morning. Feeling extremely annoyed at this point I was about to hang up when I heard a voice coming through the phone: ‘Hello, Anna Marie, it’s been a long time.’

‘Who is this?’ I said indignantly.

‘It’s Frank.’

I let out a loud gasp, ‘Look is this some kind of a sick joke?’

‘I know it’s hard to believe and I’m so sorry for calling at this late hour,’ said the man in a deliberate yet urgent tone, ‘But this is an emergency. I can’t go into any explanations right now — there isn’t enough time for that. Please listen carefully, little bug, use the formula, F-A-P SIX, F-A-P SIX.’

A chill shot up my spine whilst listening to the man enunciate every letter clearly with special emphasis on the number “six”. I took in a deep breath, ‘Frank . . . is that really you?’ I could barely breathe from the shockwave. Then an automated voice chimed in informing the caller that there was one minute remaining.

‘Anna Marie, we’re running out of time. I know I don’t have any right to ask you to trust me, but I’m begging you to trust me just one more time — use the formula–F-A-P SIX! Please do it, little bug.’

I could hear traffic noise in the background. He must be calling from a phone box but from where? Saliva slipped through the corners of my mouth. A voice inside my head was telling me not to believe what I was hearing.

‘No way, my father is dead. Who the bloody hell is this?’

‘Little bug, it is me…you’ve got to believe me, this is a matter of life and death, please use the formula…F-A-P Six!’ Then the phone line went dead.

‘HELLO…HELLO!’

My hands were shaking. I felt like vomiting. For a second this seemed like one of those surreal experiences when you think you are dreaming that you’re awake. But this was no dream – I was awake. Sitting up with my back against the wall and the phone still in my hand I gazed at the pattern of Egyptian hieroglyphics stenciled around the borders of the bedroom ceiling. Being woken up at four in the morning was disturbing enough, but hearing the voice of my long, lost father was outright shocking. After all these years of not knowing whether he was dead or alive, I get a phone call from a man claiming to be Frank and who sounded barking mad. To make matters worse the only thing he had to say was “F-A-P Six” – not something like, “Hello Anna Marie, I know this might come as a shock, but I’m not dead. I’ve just been too preoccupied for the past two decades so I decided to give you a bell. And by the way, could you use the formula?” Then “puff” like a cloud of smoke he was gone again.

My mind was riddled with confusing thoughts and painful memories all at once. That man had to be Frank. No one else knew about the formula. And no one has ever called me “Little Bug” except for dad — of this I was certain. It was his silly pet name for me when I was a young girl.

‘Frank is alive,’ I whispered.

We had all presumed that my father, Franklin Patakis, died long ago, rotting away in some desolate, hostile land stricken down by some dreadful disease. Or perhaps even murdered by thugs. It all began in the early 1970’s when Dad had purchased a derelict warehouse in Whitechapel on the east side of London. Mum was the only one to have known about the purchase at the time. Several years later, he tendered his resignation as a Professor of Philosophy at Oxford University. After leaving his successful career at one of the world’s oldest educational institutions he then devoted all his free time in converting the warehouse into an antiquarian bookstore he called “Words of Yore”.

The store slowly flourished and Words of Yore had generated enough business (mostly through mail-order and word-of-mouth) to halfway support a wife and two growing adolescents. Most of our relatives and friends of the family had thought Dad’s quixotic behavior was due to a mid-life crisis. They had urged him to seek psychological help. Even his own parents were upset with him, especially after Mum had taken a position as a secretary in a law firm to help sustain our middle-class lifestyle. Then a few years later everything for the Patakis family started to go awry when Frank had become interested in collecting rare artifacts and ancient Egyptian texts. His avid enthusiasm for these antiquities would soon develop into an obsession. He would act strangely keeping odd hours at the warehouse, making impromptu trips to God knows where, and he had often changed the combinations to the vault room. And there were times when he was talking on the phone and would hang up quickly whenever I entered his office.

Then on March 18th, 1984 (a day that had been branded in my memory forever) when Mum, Christopher and I were sitting at the dinner table Frank announced to us that he was going away and he would be gone for no more than a year. He had a lead on something big in Egypt and needed to investigate it — he wanted our blessing to pursue this endeavour. Of course this news had knocked the breath out of me. I had asked him what it was that he was going in search of, and at the same time had tried like hell to mask my shock. The only reply he had given was, “it’s top secret — but suffice it to say we will become millionaires”.

‘Millionaires’ I had said, practically spitting out my food thinking that he was joking. I pleaded with him for more details. Even begged him to take me with him and used every wile a person of my age knew in order to persuade him to do so. But all he had said was that where he was going was not a place for young girls. But not to worry, he’d be back before Christmas.

I had thought for sure Dad had lost it big time, and that any day we would have to commit him. But eventually I would figure out that his sudden trip had to do with all the secretive phone conversations and clandestine meetings he had been involved with for those past several months. I had refused to believe that he would actually go ahead with this absurd idea of finding something “big” as he had deemed it. But when he did leave, I actually thought he would walk back through the front door and tell us that it was all just a big joke. But he didn’t. I can still remember counting the days marking them on the calendar till Christmas. And, when Christmas had come and gone he didn’t show up as promised. Nor did he come home the following Christmases.

(to be continued)

copyright by Adele L Nieto
April 2010