Forbidden Love Bottom Line

Wednesday, October 29, 2008: I am not now, nor was I ever, ashamed of having loved a priest. It happened many years ago and it is an experience I will truly never forget. If there is one word to describe my feelings at this time, there is just this word: Pride. I am proud that I loved him. I am proud that I told him so to his face.

Deanna Durbin

Regarding Three Smart Girls Grow Up: This is a movie that entertains from beginning to end. I have found Three Smart Girls Grow Up to be delightful and I have seen it several times. Deanna Durbin was one of the best child stars that Hollywood ever produced. She brought joy to the screen and her movies hold up very well after so many years. Highly recommended.

Priestly Celibacy Excuses

Yes, non verbal messages are more powerful
> than verbal ones. All I am concerned about is this:
> Because of my experience loving a celibate man, I
> know
> full well how difficult and rewarding that type of
> love can be. It is very frustrating as well, though
> I
> don’t regret it. And I would not, under any
> circumstances, want anybody to love someone and not
> be
> able to have him. That simple. I feel and felt that
> there is a lot of hipocrisy out there when it comes
> to
> Priestly Celibacy, both inside and outside the Roman
> Catholic Church. I would never believe that just
> because a man is celibate he is better than others.
> I
> would never believe that because he has no wife,
> children, he can be more compassionate and/or
> kinder.
> That is an awful and stupid excuse. Eugenia Renskoff

Different Flags–chapter 4

Different Flags

                                                     

                     Chapter 4

 

The kitchen was my favorite part of my aunt’s house.

After our conversation in the living room, I went and

sat on the chair facing the sink. I had come all the

way from San Francisco. I had travelled thousands of

miles to Argentina. Now, after 2 weeks, it looked like

I would have to go back. And I didn’t want to. I loved

San Francisco, but not my life there. I felt like a

drudge, like someone who lived only to clean and shop

for the most inexpensive food available.

 

I didn’t know if this stay in Buenos Aires would be

any better. I needed time to find out. Besides, my Tia

needed me. She was my mother’s only sister and she was

in financial and emotional trouble. Where would she go

if I left? A nursing home seemed unthinkable. Nursing

homes were old people storage places and my aunt

wasn’t that old. She was only 67, although she looked

10 years older. My uncle’s illness had taken quite a

toll on her.

I shook my head. Luis. Padre Luis was more respectful.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe what I really wanted

was to stay because of him. Yes, he was a priest.

Everyone in the parish liked him. I thought he was the

most attractive man I had ever seen. He was almost my

age, too. A neighbor had mentioned that he was 27. I

had just turned 25. But inside me I had felt at least

20 years older. Was that part of the reason I was

drawn to him? A relative had once told me that I

dressed like somebody’s mother. At the time, the

remark hurt, but then I realized they were speaking the

truth. Dowdy would aptly describe my clothes. I couldn’t feel young. Young was something I was not familiar with.

 

A little bit of reality check. Priests could not marry

Nor have girlfriends. I knew that silly rule existed. I

Would not get emotionally involved with him. After

all, I was my aunt’s niece from Norte America and I

Wouldn’t be in Buenos Aires long. Passing by, then

Moving on. That way, if I happened to fall in love

With him, it wouldn’t hurt. Not every much, anyway.

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 Different Flags

                                                     

                     Chapter 4

 

The kitchen was my favorite part of my aunt’s house.

After our conversation in the living room, I went and

sat on the chair facing the sink. I had come all the

way from San Francisco. I had travelled thousands of

miles to Argentina. Now, after 2 weeks, it looked like

I would have to go back. And I didn’t want to. I loved

San Francisco, but not my life there. I felt like a

drudge, like someone who lived only to clean and shop

for the most inexpensive food available.

 

I didn’t know if this stay in Buenos Aires would be

any better. I needed time to find out. Besides, my Tia

needed me. She was my mother’s only sister and she was

in financial and emotional trouble. Where would she go

if I left? A nursing home seemed unthinkable. Nursing

homes were old people storage places and my aunt

wasn’t that old. She was only 67, although she looked

10 years older. My uncle’s illness had taken quite a

toll on her.

I shook my head. Luis. Padre Luis was more respectful.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe what I really wanted

was to stay because of him. Yes, he was a priest.

Everyone in the parish liked him. I thought he was the

most attractive man I had ever seen. He was almost my

age, too. A neighbor had mentioned that he was 27. I

had just turned 25. But inside me I had felt at least

20 years older. Was that part of the reason I was

drawn to him? A relative had once told me that I

dressed like somebody’s mother. At the time, the

remark hurt, but then I realized they were speaking the

truth. Dowdy would aptly describe my clothes. I couldn’t feel young. Young was something I was not familiar with.

 

A little bit of reality check. Priests could not marry

Nor have girlfriends. I knew that silly rule existed. I

Would not get emotionally involved with him. After

all, I was my aunt’s niece from Norte America and I

Wouldn’t be in Buenos Aires long. Passing by, then

Moving on. That way, if I happened to fall in love

With him, it wouldn’t hurt. Not every much, anyway.

 

   Different Flags

                                                     

                     Chapter 4

 

The kitchen was my favorite part of my aunt’s house.

After our conversation in the living room, I went and

sat on the chair facing the sink. I had come all the

way from San Francisco. I had travelled thousands of

miles to Argentina. Now, after 2 weeks, it looked like

I would have to go back. And I didn’t want to. I loved

San Francisco, but not my life there. I felt like a

drudge, like someone who lived only to clean and shop

for the most inexpensive food available.

 

I didn’t know if this stay in Buenos Aires would be

any better. I needed time to find out. Besides, my Tia

needed me. She was my mother’s only sister and she was

in financial and emotional trouble. Where would she go

if I left? A nursing home seemed unthinkable. Nursing

homes were old people storage places and my aunt

wasn’t that old. She was only 67, although she looked

10 years older. My uncle’s illness had taken quite a

toll on her.

I shook my head. Luis. Padre Luis was more respectful.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe what I really wanted

was to stay because of him. Yes, he was a priest.

Everyone in the parish liked him. I thought he was the

most attractive man I had ever seen. He was almost my

age, too. A neighbor had mentioned that he was 27. I

had just turned 25. But inside me I had felt at least

20 years older. Was that part of the reason I was

drawn to him? A relative had once told me that I

dressed like somebody’s mother. At the time, the

remark hurt, but then I realized they were speaking the

truth. Dowdy would aptly describe my clothes. I couldn’t feel young. Young was something I was not familiar with.

 

A little bit of reality check. Priests could not marry

Nor have girlfriends. I knew that silly rule existed. I

Would not get emotionally involved with him. After

all, I was my aunt’s niece from Norte America and I

Wouldn’t be in Buenos Aires long. Passing by, then

Moving on. That way, if I happened to fall in love

With him, it wouldn’t hurt. Not every much, anyway.

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Different Flags

                                                     

                     Chapter 4

 

The kitchen was my favorite part of my aunt’s house.

After our conversation in the living room, I went and

sat on the chair facing the sink. I had come all the

way from San Francisco. I had travelled thousands of

miles to Argentina. Now, after 2 weeks, it looked like

I would have to go back. And I didn’t want to. I loved

San Francisco, but not my life there. I felt like a

drudge, like someone who lived only to clean and shop

for the most inexpensive food available.

 

I didn’t know if this stay in Buenos Aires would be

any better. I needed time to find out. Besides, my Tia

needed me. She was my mother’s only sister and she was

in financial and emotional trouble. Where would she go

if I left? A nursing home seemed unthinkable. Nursing

homes were old people storage places and my aunt

wasn’t that old. She was only 67, although she looked

10 years older. My uncle’s illness had taken quite a

toll on her.

I shook my head. Luis. Padre Luis was more respectful.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe what I really wanted

was to stay because of him. Yes, he was a priest.

Everyone in the parish liked him. I thought he was the

most attractive man I had ever seen. He was almost my

age, too. A neighbor had mentioned that he was 27. I

had just turned 25. But inside me I had felt at least

20 years older. Was that part of the reason I was

drawn to him? A relative had once told me that I

dressed like somebody’s mother. At the time, the

remark hurt, but then I realized they were speaking the

truth. Dowdy would aptly describe my clothes. I couldn’t feel young. Young was something I was not familiar with.

 

A little bit of reality check. Priests could not marry

Nor have girlfriends. I knew that silly rule existed. I

Would not get emotionally involved with him. After

all, I was my aunt’s niece from Norte America and I

Wouldn’t be in Buenos Aires long. Passing by, then

Moving on. That way, if I happened to fall in love

With him, it wouldn’t hurt. Not every much, anyway.

 

   

 Different Flags

                                                     

                     Chapter 4

 

The kitchen was my favorite part of my aunt’s house.

After our conversation in the living room, I went and

sat on the chair facing the sink. I had come all the

way from San Francisco. I had travelled thousands of

miles to Argentina. Now, after 2 weeks, it looked like

I would have to go back. And I didn’t want to. I loved

San Francisco, but not my life there. I felt like a

drudge, like someone who lived only to clean and shop

for the most inexpensive food available.

 

I didn’t know if this stay in Buenos Aires would be

any better. I needed time to find out. Besides, my Tia

needed me. She was my mother’s only sister and she was

in financial and emotional trouble. Where would she go

if I left? A nursing home seemed unthinkable. Nursing

homes were old people storage places and my aunt

wasn’t that old. She was only 67, although she looked

10 years older. My uncle’s illness had taken quite a

toll on her.

I shook my head. Luis. Padre Luis was more respectful.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe what I really wanted

was to stay because of him. Yes, he was a priest.

Everyone in the parish liked him. I thought he was the

most attractive man I had ever seen. He was almost my

age, too. A neighbor had mentioned that he was 27. I

had just turned 25. But inside me I had felt at least

20 years older. Was that part of the reason I was

drawn to him? A relative had once told me that I

dressed like somebody’s mother. At the time, the

remark hurt, but then I realized they were speaking the

truth. Dowdy would aptly describe my clothes. I couldn’t feel young. Young was something I was not familiar with.

 

A little bit of reality check. Priests could not marry

Nor have girlfriends. I knew that silly rule existed. I

Would not get emotionally involved with him. After

all, I was my aunt’s niece from Norte America and I

Wouldn’t be in Buenos Aires long. Passing by, then

Moving on. That way, if I happened to fall in love

With him, it wouldn’t hurt. Not every much, anyway.

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

Remembering my Aunt

Going to the cementerio de la Chacarita used to be a half-festive occasion. After our respects were paid, we’d go to the pizzeria across the street. That was just about the only time that I saw my Tia smile and ready to eat. She enjoyed having someone serve her for a change, someone doing something nice for her. The waiter would treat her as if she were a relative, not a customer

New York Times Foreclosure-Related Letter

Dear Editor, I just read Climbing Down the Ladder by Bob Herbert. It was a touching article, and it is very close to home. I am one of the people that Mr. Herbert talks about. My case was not like the one he describes, but the realtor and the loan officer I worked with lied to me. This happened over 6 years ago in Atlanta and I lost my condo in November 2005. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. Something should be done so that we can get our money and our homes back. Eugenia Renskoff

IRS Followup

Monday, October 20, 2008: I have called the IRS at 1-800-829-8374 after receiving their latest letter. They will get back to me sometime in January 2009. I should not owe anything because I did not work in 2003 and had mortages, plus common charges deductions. But the letter was very upsetting and unnerving to say the least. It brought back the horror of the Atlanta condo all too vividly.

Rubio

Sunday, October 19, 2008: Since reading Dewey, I have been more and more aware of my dog Rubio’s ordeal. How Rubio must have suffered when he was ill! How he must have stopped himself from yelling and screaming out in pain! Our neighbors’ attitude did not help. He was my friend and my protector.

IRS Hell

Sunday, October 19, 2008: Yesterday I received yet another unsettling letter from the IRS. They insist that I owe $5,000+ for 2003. I had mortgages that year, common charges and I did not make any money. There was no choice for me but to live on my savings. 2003 was an awful year because that’s when the horror of the mortgage fraud started to become apparent. I had nowhere to turn, nothing to help me. though I sought help as well as advice. Now I need to know how to resolve this problem and get back on my feet once and for all. I cannot describe my feelings since I read that new IRS letter. It’s like the nightmare of the Georgia foreclosure happening all over again. Over and over again.

Cart Lady

The cart made getting around the busy streets of

> Manhattan a lot easier. Before I got it, I invented a workout called

> Manhattan Heavy Duty Luggage. First, I picked up

> Lau’s carrier, next my big yellow Disney bag and last, the

 Abercrombie

> Fitch bag. I’d stand in the middle of Fifth and

> 49th, take a deep breath and do it all over again, a few steps at a

> time. When I went through the luggage process on

> Park Avenue, several men were kind enough to help me with my stuff.

 On

> Fifth Avenue, that almost never happened.

> Not even policemen offered to lend me a hand. I lugged it all by

> myself and my energy bank quickly became depleted.

> I stared off into space and pretended there was nothing out of the

> ordinary about what I was doing. If anybody stared

> at me, I pretended not to notice. A seat! I’d hunt for one as if it

 

> was going to save my life. I didn’t stay in my seat too

> long for fear I’d like it a little bit too much.

> 

> Even in this uncertain part of our journey, Lau was my faithful

> companion. We made a great team. I washed her food

> bowl with the bottles of water I was given, fed her, cleaned her up

> and the carrier after she went to the bathroom and

> reassured her that everything was ok.

> 

> The Red Cart Lady was an unexpected gift. I was on the Upper East

 Side

> going through the backbreaking luggage

> process when a woman approached me. She had just come out of a tall

> building.” Can I help? How far are you going?”

> she asked me. “Central Park. I want to go to Central Park,” I

 said

> looking at Lau.

> “Do you live in Manhattan?” the lady asked me looking me over. My

 

> jeans were dirty, My once- white T-shirt must

> have smelled and my light green headband could not disguise my

> uncombed hair.“Yes and no. Not in a real apartment.”

> And I explained about having been in Rego Park, Queens for about a

> week, I moved out of the condo I was staying at

> because a tenant was moving in. “Did I have any family”? “Yes,

 in

> California.” We walked on in silence for a few more

> blocks. I could see that my kind stranger was sweating and it

 wasn’t

> because of the hot weather. My bags were really

> heavy. We reached Lexington Avenue; she said we were going to get a

> cart because I needed one for my stuff. Like an

> innocent little kid, I thought there was a church or somewhere that

> would provide me with one. We walked to the

> Gracious Home store on east 70th and Third Avenue. “Can we get a

 car

> today?” she asked the salesman. “Yes. What

> size”? The lady and I looked at each other. “Medium,: she told

 him.

> “What color?” “Red,” I said. “Red is a positive color.”

> The kind stranger paid with a credit card. “Don’t worry about

 it,” she

> told me when I said I could not repay her for the cart.

> We went to the sidewalk and discovered that the cart wasn’t big

 enough

> for Lau and my belongings. “I’ll be right back,”

> she said, leaving me with her bag and everything else. A few minutes

> later she returned with what looked to be an extra

> large cart. We fitted everything in with the kitty, as she called

 Lau,

> on top. The lady refused to write down my email

> address so I could pay her back for the cart when I had the money.

> “Good luck,” she said touching my arm and handing

> me a 20 dollar bill.

>