Remembering Helen Khori

IN MEMORY OF HELEN KHORI

Shortly after my wife and I got married, when we first lived together as empty nesters, we set upon the holidays to celebrate alone.  While sitting at the couch listening to radio or TV, she/we got the idea of, adopting a stranger for Christmas.   Volunteers put dinners together while others delivered.  The responsibility of delivering couples was to share Christmas with that family.  That is how we met Helen Khori. 

That was years ago.  If you added those years, we spent lots of time together.  While living in Chicago, we often met to assist with some of her endeavors.  Helen became a regular houseguest for a time.  It was fun being with her, and she seemed to like petting our dogs, even though she was allergic to them.  We continued meeting on a regular basis after the first Christmas, and our relationship grew.  Helen was blind and having a variety of friends was an important part of her life.

We were newlyweds, and our relationship with Helena worked to strengthen our personal bond with each other.  Sometimes the giver receives more than they give, from gratitude of people less fortunate; having Helena our friend was somewhat spiritual for us.  People with close family ties are often oblivious to things around them such as, homeless or helpless, as their personal needs take precedence.  Sixty percent of people want to leave forty percent behind. 

Being blind is not such a bad thing, people will tell you, while they travel in well-lighted places, and avoiding darkness, where few of them venture to walk.  Helen had a myriad of problems to cope with, including severe health concerns.  But those problems were miniscule when coupled with her exodus from Iraq after WWll, having to master several languages along the way, and commit to memory everything, as she had no other means of recollection.

About ten years into our relationship, we left the Chicago area to begin our life anew, building a home on our dream location, while always keeping in touch with Helen and her family.  Our fondest memories were celebrating special events with them, each eclectic and scholastically inclined, they were successful business people in their own rights.  Even after we moved, we continued to return and visit Helen. 

The last visit, we sat and talked for about one hour or so, while holding hands, exchanging well wishes and hugging each other.  You never know when things will end.   The family notified us to advise us of Helen’s death, about one week after she died.  It seemed, she wanted us to know that even though she had to go, she would still be with us.

We never expected a lifelong relationship with a stranger when we met Helen.  It might have been different had I not suffered greatly myself from a near fatal accident, shortly before that first meeting.  Months unable to move, in part on life support, similar to others on that ward, I was fortunate to leave in a wheel chair the day I got out of the hospital, and learning to walk was tedious.  Having Helen for a friend made me realize that no matter how great my problems were, they could not ever be half as bad as Helen’s could.  

My wife always had a soft spot heart for disadvantaged people.  She was my guiding influence in doing kind deeds, while I sometimes went along for the ride.  Helen's friendship gave us excuses to be together, much like any family.  Maybe that made everybody closer.  

STUNNED GUNS IN STONED CITY

STUNNED GUNS IN STONED CITY

Johny Appalachia

There is more to come.  For everything they find, there are more hiding somewhere.

Detroit is not stunned.  Detroit is stoned.  They've been that way for forty years.  You can purchase a mansion in Detroit, for a few thousand dollars, but you better build a wall around it and mount turrets.  Republican leader, Oakland County, L. Brooks Patterson said about Detroit, "Round up all the Indians, build a fence around the city in, throw some corn."

That sums up Detroit well.

Detroit, the abandoned city is a far cry from, Detroit waterfront and Belle Island.  For all the coruscation, it is all corrosion beyond that. Dead City, Detroit -- that is what Lansing and Michigan Republicans call it.  The only visits Republicans or Democrats make into Detroit, is to pass quickly through it, en-route to Canada casino's.  The rest of that city is largely abandoned by government of any type.  If there is a fire in Detroit, they might be lucky to save the concrete basement.  About half the homes are beyond repair and unsafe to live in.  The largest numbers of Detroit inhabitants are rats; which is completely rational, considering that Michigan police do not protect American citizens, as a primary responsibility.  Their job is: protect the infrastructure, superstructures, and nothing else.  The only protection anybody has in Detroit, is self defense.

They found a few guns next to the library on Woodward Avenue; so what is big news about that?  Check out Woodward Avenue and surrounding area.  

Police in Detroit announced the discovery of an arms cache of 200 semi-automatic rifles with 25,000 rounds of ammunition,  200 pounds of heroin, 5 million dollars in forged US banknotes and 25 prostitutes --- all located in a semi-detached house behind the Public Library on Woodward Avenue.

Local residents were stunned.  A community spokesperson said:

"We're all shocked,.......we never knew we had a library. Does it have any books?  How much could we get for them?"

Grave Digger III

When you live in a bubble, you cannot understand universal complexities.  One cannot conceive the ramifications of a contravention.  When we tamper with laws of nature, there is a penalty.  If I earned anything that day, it was the wrath of God, and  Lacey was about to bestow deep pain upon me.

Lacey, the driving mule, was prodding with his unending vile vocabulary.  He never slept, at least visibly, and he kept lading bills at each location.  We dropped trailers at the rail yard after a laborious week and picked up two loads of steal.  It was there Lacey excelled as if on top of his game, easily throwing trails of chain across the loads, while I struggled with the bindings to near exhaustion.  Tired and angry, both itching for a fight; Bobby Joe and Delvis, two guys who got hired in about the time I got there, appeared, plumes of dust in the dirt lot trailing behind them, and skidding to a halt, with Bobby’s trailer wheels just bushing my calf.  That simple act fired the fuel of my ire.  Bounding over his trailer, I grabbed for his throat, my two hands each grasping his neck, then fiercely squeezing into opposite ends of his throat, while crossing my thumbs and concentrating on his demise while he faded away.

Then Delvis pulled his gun to fire, but I was quicker and found his right shoulder with a Schrade, pocketknife that I inherited.

I felt something grasp my shoulder as I lifted into space by the fearful mighty, Lacy, and I knew I was in trouble.

Misiu grabbed Lacy from behind, burying his teeth into his thy, and instantly Lacy’s grasp released, to throw me.   My leg broke from the fall, but only one bone and it looked stable.  I could barely walk; the paralyzing pain was too intense.  Misiu came to my whistle, to assist me back into the truck cab, after putting the gun on Bobby’s temple.

Inside the cab, I retreated to the sleeper while Misiu guarded.  Unable to remove my boot, my leg was swollen into it, so I left it on and threw my sweaty shirt onto the dirty dusty floor, too exhausted to move; and later on, Lacy appeared to greet me with Vicodine, our pill of choice for pain.

The next day changed everything.   With the rain threatening our precious cargoes, chained and tarped, we needed to head out on the highway. 

Plebeian Perspective

Plebeian Perspective

Republican leader, L. Brooks Patterson said, “Round up the Indians, put them in Detroit, fence it in, throw corn and walk away.”

As Republican, Indian and Jewish, I find racist statements, and racism, repulsive.   We are minorities in America, our over-invaded country; nevertheless, we are people and have, Bill of Rights.  As Indian, Jewish, Republican, it tells me that as long as the Republican party is ruled by prejudice, I could never be a Republican leader, no matter what great deeds.  When Republican leaders talk about “sacrifice, and 47%,” they are talking about their own members as well.  It is no wonder that people of, minority, distain Republican Party.  No wonder, Governor Snyder ignores letters from party members. 

America is a European name for a nemesis that they claimed, disregarding anybody else who lived here.   On a cultural scale, Indians are beneath Negro, our lands taken – stolen – from us and most of us, relocated to large areas of concentration.  So, when Republican Party leaders openly talk about putting us in Detroit concentration camps, I recollect in history that it was United States Europeans who taught Nazis how to decimate large numbers (entire tribes) from these lands.  No wonder people proudly refer to themselves as Europeans. 

Our, Bill of Rights, as written and understood, was referenced to, European Men; disregarding women, Negroes, and Indians; nevertheless, we have been fighting at the front lines in American wars for centuries, on European orders.

Michigan European history dates to 1622 with the French explorer, Eteinne Brule’ who was searching for a waterway from, Canada, to the Pacific coast.  He was executed several years later, on orders of the first Michigan governor, Champlain, for being too close to, Indians.

For more than 100 years after, war waged in America between French and English Europeans, while they fought over their rights to their new continent.  Negroes were imported in chains to serve our new, America, while Indians were rounded up and exiled to Spartan locations, leaving most of, America to French, English and Dutch.

Whoever won the American war is unclear, as we have ample numbers of Europeans in, America, and most Indians, destroyed.  A few people managed to escape the exodus, and we remain quietly living among Europeans, with few people knowing the difference.   But government knows the difference.    Last hired and first, fired from jobs, Europeans rule over native, and Negro.  In government affairs, they ignore us; and we might as well not exist.  European blight directly affects more than twelve million Americans today. 

They call America, the rich nation.  To me, America is a trail of tears and bloodshed for blight.  From strip farms started in Cadillac Michigan, to the sixty-percent estimate of, wet land drainage; today, most of Michigan water is unfit to drink, which is appalling.   

Brooks Patterson said, “Round up the Indians, and fence them into Detroit.”  Maybe we should round up European Republican Party and put them there for BBQ.

PUT A FENCE UP, ROUND UP INDIANS AND TOSS IN SOME GRAIN

January 17, 2014

Dear ACLU,

Last month I sent you a copy of a letter that I wrote to Governor Snyder.  I put you down as a cc, on that letter.

We pay drain services and get no service.  Bessie Creek has not been touched in thirty years.  It needs to be open and I need to brush hog my property.

Coincidently, I received a letter from DNR, January 7, 2013, requesting my presence at their meeting, which I obliged.   At that meeting, I requested drain service to DNR, and the Van Buren County Drain Commission (they came and sat by my side, to talk directly to me -- “We would like you to give us your land rights.”  They had paperwork to sign there). 

I requested they open our drain.  They told me they deliberately refuse to service our drain.  DNR and the county highway drains are causing water backup and flooding properties.  We pay drain fees.  Some people pay more than one drain fee.  Michigan law says we have the right to a drain, and they charge farmers drain service.  In this case, the drain fees got used somewhere else.  

The reason I sent my letter as cc to your office is, I believe Department of Natural Resources is violating America rights.  Certainly  they have to attest to the fact that they kept valuables which I left at their office, when they locked me out; and, the local Paw Paw, State Police Office physically removed me and threatened to file charges of Hersey against me, if I filed a claim (for my insurance purposes).

State police have since verified my verbal claim; however, they have currently not returned my property as I requested they should.  We have a twofold problem.    Farmers and I need the creek open and we pay services.  Written in Department of Natural Resource handbook, the law says we have this right. 

 At this time, I have written letters, spoken to Committeeman, State Representative, Senator and Congressman.    State Representative Aaric Nesbit, laughed and then told me that as far as he is concerned, I have no rights.  Senator Tonya Schutemaker shook my hand and promised to get back with me, then ran the other way (at a meeting).  Nobody has answered my letters. 

The act of locking a US citizen from public offices is a true civil rights violation, among other things.  Public humiliation, name-calling (office head at Department of Natural Resource, called me “creep”, and physical threats by state and federal officers is another questionable ethic. 

It is confusing to write proper letters and get no answers.  I  get derision and mockery, or nothing. 

I have a Master Degree, studied writing, history and architecture, recognized as a serviceman who went above and beyond the call of duty, former block captain (Chicago), no criminal history, graduate of a police academy and writer/publisher.  How much education does one need to get the drain cleaned?  How many cops does it take to return the goods I left at Department of Natural Resource office?  What government openly denies citizens licensed rights? 

I am enclosing a copy of the letter I sent Governor Snyder, and need advice to better explain myself.

 We are preparing the creek for depth charges.  For safety, we are planning to do it at night while the neighbors are sleeping.   Some friends have told me that I might seek council with an attorney.  I need somebody to know what I am doing, as habendum, and perhaps you might assist me.  Thank you.   RSVP. 

Sincerely,

Johny Appalachia

In addition:

Oakland County Executive, Republican Brooks Patterson said they would like to round all US Indians up to put into a concentration camp in Detroit and throw some grain in.  Executive Patterson is insulting not only Americans, but also everybody else in US; including himself, unless he was a carpetbagger from Europe.  It is coincidental perhaps that his announcement came shortly after my letter which I addressed to, Governor Snyder; and which ended at, Jeremy Hall perhaps been read there.  With that type of mentality currently running Michigan, it is reasonable to expect ignorance to our letters.  Ignorance is inexcusable for genocide.  I am concerned that Michigan State Police physically removed me from their office, threatened to charge me with Hersey, and currently holding that which they have no right (seventy thousand dollars, or equivalent, the same as what I left at DNR office).

At this point, I have no response from either Governor Snyder, or President Obama, since nobody has directly addressed my concerns, and it seems miniscule on their agendas.  Our creek maintenance was abandoned by the state and drain inspector, who never visited, let alone maintain it.  We want to open it and drain our backlands that the county is using for highway drainage, which floods them, preventing land access.

Coincidently, my problems got escalated by Department of Natural Resource, when they told me they refused to comply with my taxed right that they charge everybody for, cleaning our drains.  Then they say they have no money, while absconding with funds.  We have a solution to clear the creak within moments.   The law says we have the right.  The county has no excuse to continue flooding our backlands.   DNR told me they want to take it away within a decade.  They say government does not recognize people, it only recognizes infrastructure.  With that attitude and the fact that top leaders in Michigan are talking about genocide while calling US, Indians, is a supreme insult to government and also humanity -- to talk of sacrifice-- , while calling them “creep”, and restricting them from public offices, charging services and literally stealing -- dishonesty.

Department of Natural is also giving mineral rights from public lands that they acquire, to Department of Environmental Quality, for Fracking auctions.  They told me, “We want you to give us your land.”  They had paper work to sign. 

Department of Natural Resource told me they want me to sacrifice.  I want to sacrifice Department of Natural Resources and Department of Environment Quality.  Those organizations have no right in America, as they currently work for oil companies; it is an open joke in Michigan.

 DNR wants fracking rights.  We are currently sitting on a large oil field.  Oil companies working with DEQ, say they can steam roll it through Michigan courts; and do.  This oil belongs to me.  If oil here gets drilled, the company is mine, when I drain the land and drill to one thousand feet.       I can erect vertical wells as a fracking alternative. 

I want my creek open to drain our backlands.  We paid for it.  Law says we can have it.  We can open.  The process seems redundant at this point.  I spoke with several people who expressed interest, and seem to agree with me; one offer to help, with ample supplies. 

Do Americans have civil rights, when Republican Party top officials recognize America without Indians, while calling for Indian genocide; it is no wonder that an Indian will not lead the exclusive caucus.  That should frighten every American, not only “Indians”, as they call us.   We are actually Algonquin, Mashpee, Wampanoag and thousands of others you never heard of; nevertheless, we exist openly, about twenty-million in US.  President Obama expresses his concerns about being black.  You cannot hide that.  We hide too well.  Imagine the way we feel when proper people like, L. Brooks Patterson say what most party members privately reveal.   This is the worst kind of insult to America.

To date, my letters (fifty) to President Obama have gone unanswered.  I received a form letter, shortly after my last letter, which I am enclosing.  He appears to be saying that we should continue the oil route until we have a solid alternative.  That means that he will not stop fracking operations in Michigan, which supplies twenty percent of US gas. 

Department of Natural Resources told me that they would like to start with twenty acres of my land, and with my mineral rights.

Department of Natural Resources is giving, Department of Environmental Quality, publicly obtained lands, and selling mineral rights to oil companies, at auction (private). 

I have a very large oil field (Department of Natural Resource told me).   They told me that they want to take my land.  I wish to start drilling for oil on twenty acres of land, with three wells, this spring.    In this respect, I am offering to open Bessie creek quickly; whereas, the county neglects it. 

Even though Department of Natural Resources kept money, I left at their office (an heirloom worth seventy-thousand dollars).  Police refused to take a report.  They physically pushed me from their building, and threatened to charge me with heresy, if I press charges.  In response, I wrote a letter to President Obama, requesting a Federal Restraining Order on Department of Natural Resources, and Michigan State Police.

The Honorable Rick Snyder,

Governor of Michigan,                                                                                                                                                        Office of the Governor,                                                                                                                                                      P.O. Box 30013
Lansing, Michigan 48909 

12/24/13 

Dear Governor Snyder,

 Thursday, January 31, I attended a meeting DNR set at Lake Michigan College.  While seated, a DNR agent told me that they wanted mineral and land rights.  I inquired about my drain rights. DNR told me I have none, despite paying for drain service.  Tiles are surfacing from neglect, which concerns local farmers.

A week later, DNR locked me from their office while retaining merchandise I had left there.  When I went to State Police Local Headquarters, they physically removed me from their office.  They said they would charge me with Hersey, if I filed charges.  Months later, my claim verified, they are still holding valuables. 

I have brought this matter to a committeeman, State Representative, and State Senator.  I also sent email to Terri Lynn Land. Nobody has answered me to this date.  

Several weeks ago, I sent a letter to our Commander and Chief to request Federal protection and a restraining order to protect our properties from those same offices that locked me out, until such time when we can hold a meeting in a neutral zone where we can resolve this as State, Federal and Native American. 

Sincerely,

Johny Appalachia

Cc

President Barack Obama, ACLU, Michigan State Police Hq

  “Put a fence around it, round up the Indians and throw corn”.  Praise you and the church you live in, Oakland Executive Patterson.

Letter to Governor Snyder

The Honorable Rick Snyder,

Governor of Michigan,                                                                                                                                                        Office of the Governor,                                                                                                                                                      P.O. Box 30013
Lansing, Michigan 48909 

12/12/13

Dear Governor Snyder,

 Thursday, January 31, I attended a meeting DNR set at Lake Michigan College.  While seated, a DNR agent told me that they wanted mineral and land rights.  I inquired about my drain rights. DNR told me I have none, despite paying for drain service.  Tiles are surfacing from neglect, which concerns local farmers.

A week later, DNR locked me from their office while retaining merchandise I had left there.  When I went to State Police Local Headquarters, they physically removed me from their office.  They said they would charge me with Hersey, if I filed charges.  Months later, my claim verified, they are still holding valuables. 

I have brought this matter to a committeeman, State Representative, and State Senator.  I also sent email to Terri Lynn Land. Nobody has answered me to this date.   

Several weeks ago, I sent a letter to our Commander and Chief to request Federal protection and a restraining order to protect our properties from those same offices that locked me out, until such time when we can hold a meeting in a neutral zone where we can resolve this as State, Federal and Native American. 

Sincerely,

Johny Appalachia

Grave Digger II

He called himself a bastard, and I agreed with him.  Anybody big as Lacey, commands attention.  Lacey not only demanded attention, he dictated ruthlessly like a big bully brother.  My feelings mixed about what sort of beast lived within his shell.  One can never read the personal interior existing beneath reflections of a rugged exterior.  My reactions sometimes exacerbated complications of our trade, to illicit completely the unexpected.

There are copious quantities of venomous serpents, mostly existing quintessentially within the loose confines of eight million acres.  My travels only give me experience with three.  Being born in the heart of copperhead country, that snake I most fear – its bite renders certain death – there is no escape.  I know that feeling, having died so many times within.   More than a few brave men got lost in Maine’s Haynesville woods to succumb to copperhead lethal injections, never found, their graves resting where they lay breathing last straining breaths.  Usually you never notice copperhead snakes until too close.

Rattlesnakes are no kinder than nature.  They are keenly alert and intelligent when compared to copperhead reflexes.   I would run from a rattler, if given my preference.  Snakes are driven by olfactory, tracking and sensing fear.  Carefully they stock from shadows, skimming across and just beneath desert sands, witnessed seldom by a solemn few. 

Copperheads act instinctively affronting anything coldblooded or warm-blooded.  Rattlesnakes are slightly more reserved, taking time to reason and sometimes drawn into the warmth of a hearth, sometimes at the mercy of suburbia. 

I characterized Lacey as a copperhead.  In my circumstance, it was too late to react within the cusp of a giant crevasse.  They say there is no way out of hell and we were encapsulating within the confines of the sun.  Look up to see black with only fire everywhere.  Few people have eyes I have not met.  He was one.    The man built of brick towered over my limited frame.  Either I faced right or left; otherwise, a wall was before me, that of command.  Always, I could feel his eyes, the coals of Hades upon my back. 

We only had a day to reach our destination and I wasted half of it, some with unnecessary sleep.  It took a half hour to enter an artery leading us from the city.  Sixteen forward speeds worked better by designed for country traffic.  Another hour was lost driving through suburbs. 

Lacey was perched on top my trailer with his truck bumper inches from the reaches of my trailer.  Sometimes I could barely observe the back of his trailer in my side-mirrors, bobbing and weaving through traffic as maniacs, me running, him chasing.  He said we lost time and it was up to me to make it up for Boss.  Traffic was heavy.  I was struggling to keep an average speed of fifty-five and dared not push the final gear, fearing logically that would set me back even further as downshifting penalizes.

My duffle bag was set on the passenger seat, unzipped and open.  I reached in to retain a radar jammer that fit handily on the dashboard, invisible to watchful eyes, owing to its low profile frame.  Now we were riding in country.  Ahead of me into the horizon was highway unhampered, devoid of rush hour traffic. 

I reached to my far right and released the secondary gear into neutral.  With my left arm crooked within the low side of the steering wheel rim, simultaneously I released the primary; quickly grabbing at the wheel in hand, I shifted the primary into second; then, taking the secondary shift into my right hand, coaxed it back into final fourth.

The rearview mirror revealed a large trailer separating from my cabin side view.  I could see the front end of Lacey’s truck coming into view, whereas, it had previously lurked at the rear end of my trailer.  The tachometer revealed twenty-one and I finally reckoned with top end.  Lacey’s big Mack was vanishing in a distance.  I even passed a few cars.  That ultimately got us into a bit of trouble, first him, then me. 

We were doing fine and I was driving in a straight line.  Far down the road somewhere, Lacey’s foot was hard set on the metal pedal.  If he could have pushed harder, his foot would have gone through the floor while his temper exited the roof. 

After driving several hours and virtually no sight of my mate, I was feeling more relaxed and set the cruise control at sixty-five.  That act worked favorable for me.  Just about one mile up the road, prior to a weigh-station, it seemed they had a speed trap set.  I caught it from about one mile away, in time to check my speed to the normal fifty-five limit. We were OK.  It was good for me.  The station needed addressing.  Our weights were perfect and we carefully rode over the scales. 

It takes a long time to get a sixteen-speed diesel cruising on the highway.  It was after noon.  We needed our loads delivered before sundown.  As I was pulling out from the driveway ramp (some refer to it as a runway), I detected smoke in the background.  It was too early for sunset, leading my intuition to assume some type of inferno transpiring at a distant past.

I did not waste time.  With Lacey somewhere hard on my tail, I was assuming that perhaps my ingress to the next location should be prompt as possible.  There was no speculation about a previous miscalculation.  Ubiquitous traffic jams and traffic cops.  I was sweating.  It was cool outside the cab while engine heat barely raised the temperature to sixty-five degrees – not warm enough for comfort.   There was no time to waste when I pulled into the yard, not long before day’s end.

Somehow, I reached my destination without incident.  It was a matter of time and patience to wait upon Lacey.  For me it was early now, haven gotten done my days chore.  I crawled into the sleeper for a nap, while Misiu begrudgingly took his place at the steering helm while waiting for my deep slumber to end.

You could hear him at a distance, the horn blowing like a frantic train whistle; only it was pulling into the main yard, not far from where I parked.  He was angry and arrogant, acting as owning eternity.  The clock struck five on a dime, with the tractor-trailer barely on time.  That timely decision influenced by a tired crew and tirade of miscommunication led the foreman to calling it a day.  He could have walked away, except for one bad word he had to say.  One never called Lacey lazy, followed by another infarction to produce spontaneous reaction.  Everybody froze.  The earth lapsed in silence.  Lacey bounced onto the dock and with one hand; he grabbed the man’s throat, physically lifting him about one foot off ground zero, smashing into his temple with the fist of the other mitt.      

 The man wilted where he once stood.  To interpret what I saw, I thought the bastard had killed somebody.  Instinctively I reacted to what I once witnessed, first aid.  Quickly, I ran to an ice chest residing on the dock and grabbed an ice bucket, carefully carrying the load and depositing at location, the victims crown.  I was not sure; however, the foreman appeared to have a concave cavity alongside his head, indicative of a fractured skull.

He sprung to life where he’d appeared lifeless, saying, “I’m OK.  I’m OK,” all the while grasping his head.  Then, “Guys, unload the man.”  He sat down.  You could tell he was in pain.  They unload quickly and without incident.