Mothers Day 2020

Happy Mother's Day, Mom (1920s to 1990s).  A Depression child and wartime worker, mother of six, wartime bride and wife of my Dad, charitable, civic-minded, a community worker, entrepreneur, she lived a good life.

All three of my children were held by her, visited her as children often, were visited by her.  She saved and scrimped as a widow to build a trust fund for each of them that amounted to about $100K  that I formerly shepherded to be used for their benefit (in addition to using my own legacy money to purchase full pre-paid tuition and all fees plans for them) which not a one of them has ever expressed any thanks for, having not spoken to a single Lamberton in 15 years (the broad-brush of prototypical adult-induced-upon-tender-minors PAS, usually during a divorce, most often by the primary care parent as in their case).

So here is a little about your loving Grandmother, JJ&D, including some pictures you could download.  She did so much for you.

Odes to the boys

Holidays are always hard times for me ever since I lost my three boys almost two decades ago as tender young children to PAS during my multi-year quarter-million dollar divorce (only the best for my ex-wife Sharon). I think about them practically every day and miss them especially during the end of the year, just before their birthday season starts, when all three have birthdays within the next 60 days.  I hope all three are well and happy, although if any of them weren't well or suffered some tragedy, their mother would never inform me.  Sharon had plenty of help in her successful extra-judicial patricide through Parental Alienation Syndrome, which some refer to as child abuse, which she foisted upon these three tender lads, all impressionable adolescents, abetted in the deed by her coterie of family wrecking "professionals" like Meg, Joe, Victor, Bill, Van Sicko, Meg's putative lover, and the rest of her mercenary adults whose profession is murdering the childhoods of children.

 I remember my oldest boy Jimmy whenever I hear this song that came out around the time he was born.  Jimmy had such promise, and tragically his mother, and Meg as the enabler, in my opinion put stoking her covert narcissism above his well-being as a child during the years-long divorce wars.  I miss and love you, Jimmy, no matter what easy-money scheme you're currently engaged in.

This is the pop song that played incessantly during the time my middle son was born.  I love you, Johnny, wherever you are and whatever you're doing.

This song always brings back bittersweet memories of my youngest child Danny.  He was the most vulnerable child, being the youngest and the one most in need of special care, and he was therefore the victim of all the hidden-memories-recalled schemes of the charlatan Victor and the rest of the mental health "professionals" that his mother surreptitiously took him off to during the divorce wars, known and unknown to me, to the point where he expressed troublesome ideation, a child's cry for help, that the adults in the form of the GAL finally took note of and forced Sharon to tell me about.  I am sorry I was unable to protect you, Danny, as these adults ravaged you as a child and I love you and hope you are well.

Have a healthy and Happy New Year, JJ&D and families.

March for Our Lives

And the children shall lead.  Columbine, Sandy Hook, Parkland, and so many other gruesomely evocative names.  A legacy of shame for America.

It was a mentally ill person, a neighbor said disapprovingly to me on the sidewalk out front as he saw me head for the March for Our Lives in the District this morning, not the gun that killed those 17 people on Valentine's Day, and besides it wasn't an assault rifle.  I say BS, it was an AR-15, the civilian version of the Army's best and most lethal personal killing machine, with large capacity magazines and high velocity bullets, all legally obtained by an 18 year-old boy, that caused those 15 defenseless children gathered together by us adults in one known place at a predictable time to die, plus 2 heroic care taking adults who died fighting to defend them, in a mere 6 minutes and a few seconds.  That's the weapon of choice that enabled an addled teenager to go on a killing spree in a killing ground.

If he had entered that school with a knife, or even a pistol with a 7-shot capacity for an automatic or 6-shots for a revolver, or even a pump shotgun with a regular capacity internal magazine chamber, then maybe 17 people wouldn't have died in those 6 minutes.  Maybe the crazed misfit wouldn't have even been able to command the field or fire for those 6 minutes, which would have further reduced the carnage.  But we have failed our children in our love for guns that outshines our love for our children, or is it a lust for guns in a way that's clearly improper for us to lust after children.

Today the children marched by the hundreds of thousands in DC, LA, NYC, St. Paul and elsewhere around the country and the world, demanding change now.  Earlier this week, two more school children were killed and a third wounded in a school shooting in Maryland, not too far from where a million people marched today trying to effect a long overdue change.  No more dead, too many shot down already, with no end in sight to the mass killings of children and others, necessitating a real, dramatic change to be enacted now.