INTERNATIONAL Traffic August - September 2014

[caption id="attachment_2868" align="aligncenter" width="225"] Danny Hanning of The Other Shoe - May 6th, 2014[/caption]

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Welcome back My Dear Readers to The Other Shoe. Now, My Dear Readers, I have always wrote and published for the largest possible audience. Seems to me that the greatest accomplishment for a writer, of any kind, is to have their work read by the largest possible audience. Sure, Domestic audiences are great, it is gratifying to have the people you grew up with read and like your work. Although, the greatest test of a writer’s chops (it would seem to me… as logical) would be so demonstrate that one’s work has international appeal. If you, My Dear readers, have been a long-time reader of this blog, what I am about to publish will be rather familiar.

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Every so often I go to Google Analytics(for traffic numbers on The Other Shoe at blog dot com) and the Traffic Analysis for Word Press and check to see… well, what IS my ‘International Appeal’? Quite good, as a matter of fact! As I look over this past month’s international numbers I quickly see that my reach abroad is the highest level ever! Not only is my blog read in more countries, than ever before, but more people are reading my blog in these countries. There are two sets of numbers, one for each blog location. As I present the images of the report(s) I will give a brief explanation of the image you are about to view.

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Now, one salient fact that might come in handy. If you are having problems seeing the; numbers, country names, or any other old fact or number? Go over the the secondary blof location, over at Word Press (www.theothersshoe.wordpress.com). Once there, click on the image you hare having difficulty reading or seeing. Once clicked the blog will being up a larger image that is (generally) easier to read and see. This is true for all articles, and all images regardless of the article. That is a good factoid to keep in mind, My Dear readers, for future reference.

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Our first image for today is from the traffic report from The Other Shoe at Word Press (www.theothersshoe.wordpress.com) for the month between August 29^th and September 24^th, 2014. In this image each day’s traffic is represented by a vertical line, with a dark bar inside a lighter bar. The light blue bar represents the numbers of views and the darker blue bar represents the number of individual visitors. When the bar, for a certain day, has a larger light blue area, that means that each visitor viewed and read several pages or posts. Conversely, when the darker blue bar takes up the majority of the lighter blue bar, that means that each visitor read only one or two pages or posts. By ‘Best’ day, shown in this graphic, was this past Thursday September 25^th, 2014. On that day I had thirty-eight visitors and they viewed a total of Seventy-Seven pages or posts. Meaning that each and every visitor viewed/read at least two pages or posts. That was a ‘Good Day’ for my secondary blog location at Word Press.

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[caption id="attachment_3679" align="aligncenter" width="630"] Traffic Report for The Other Shoe at Word Press[/caption]

(Traffic Report for The Other Shoe at Word Press)

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Now, I only copied two report pages, for The Other Shoe at Word Press this month. Our next image, for my Word Press location, show the International Traffic! This is the most important information, for the purposes of this article. As I explained, above, I genuinely believe that the true measure of a writer is his broader appeal. A writer whose work is read in a great many nations, countries, has demonstrated greater ability via broader appeal. It is very easy to write for just one geographic area, one mindset, and one group of people. Far more difficult is to refine and enhance one’s writing abilities to reach/entertain larger and larger groups of people. I am hoping that publishers understand and appreciate this ability, too! J Below, a color graphic of the world with areas colored in where my blogs was read. The lower part of the graphic gives us a number break-down, by country, of just how many visitors per nation or country.

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[caption id="attachment_3678" align="aligncenter" width="630"] Global Traffic by Color – Secondary Location[/caption]

(Global Traffic by Color – Secondary Location)

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Here is the number break-down of the International Traffic for ONE month – August 29^th to September 26^th – The Other Shoe @ Word Press (www.theothersshoe.wrdpress.com)

[1152]

Nation: Visitors:

United States	925
United Kingdom	54
India	30
Australia	27
Canada	16
Philippines	15
South Africa	12
Japan	10
Republic of Korea	9
France	9
Mexico	8
Thailand	7
Saudi Arabia	5
Spain	5
Argentina	5
New Zealand	5
Germany	4
United Arab Emirates	4
Qatar	4
Ireland	4
Poland	4
Brazil	3
Kuwait	3
Bulgaria	3
Pakistan	3
Hong Kong	3
Portugal	3
Egypt	3
New Caledonia	2
Russian Federation	2
Costa Rica	2
Netherlands	2
Turkey	2
Switzerland	2
Romania	2
Malaysia	1
Czech Republic	1
Sri Lanka	1
Hungary	1
Jordan	1
Serbia	1
Taiwan	1
Finland	1
Colombia	1
Norway	1
Macao	1
Bahrain	1
Papua New Guinea	1
Jamaica	1
Marshall Islands	1
Lebanon	1
Cyprus	1
Israel	1
Sweden	1
Indonesia	1

TOTAL: 1,207

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That brings us to the end of the information and graphics I have to share for the secondary blog location for The Other Shoe (www.theothersshoe.wordpress.com). If you have any questions, or comments, place them in the ‘Comments’ section of this article. As I monitor all threads and articles I will get back to you ASAP and do my best to answer any questions and/or respond to any/all comments/suggestions.

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Now, on with the primary location for my blog The Other Shoe (www.theothershoe.blog.com). Here, My Dear Readers, I am forced to admit. Admit that my secondary blog location is actually the busier location of the two. My primary blog location, at this time, just does not have as much/more visit or visitors as the secondary location. This is troubling, to me, for more reasons that one. The primary location has been active for more than four years. I have invested far more money in advertising and publicity for the primary location. More articles, longer web presence, and more $$$ spent on ads and promotions should equal the busier blog. It just is not the way. ‘The best laid plans of mouse and men’. Right?

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The very first image, for this blog location, is the overall traffic for the blog for the month ending September 25^th, 2014. I would like to make on fact well known. During the past month (past TWO months, past three months, past year) my primary location has been DOWN more days/weeks than I care to count. This blog location has real difficulties staying up! Within any given month I would have to say, honestly, there are at least ten to twelve days that the nlog is inaccessible! This is very discouraging and upsetting. As well, each and every time I go to run a funding campaign? It seems like the blog location goes down more often and for longer! My Dear Readers, this is the reason I have (often) spoken of getting my OWN URL, Web Hosting, and Blog software and leaving blog dot com behind! However, right now I am having terrible difficulties just trying to raise funds to Battle My CANCER!

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That battle… and the fund raiser for getting my own blog location, hosting and software will have to just come another day… maybe a long long time away… L Right now, the next graphic shows the overall traffic at blog dot com for the month ending September 25^th, 2014.

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[caption id="attachment_3677" align="aligncenter" width="630"] Overall Traffic Numbers TOS Blog Dot Com[/caption]

(Overall Traffic Numbers TOS Blog Dot Com)

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Now, for the International traffic numbers! As with my secondary blog location, one can clearly and easily see that my work is read in nearly a dozen nations! It is with a great deal of pride that I share this information! Below, International Traffic as represented in a color graphic of the world.

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[caption id="attachment_3675" align="aligncenter" width="630"] Global Traffic TOS Blog Dot Com[/caption]

(Global Traffic TOS Blog Dot Com)

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Our next graphic shows us the number of visitors, and corresponds to the color graphic above. My work, at this location, is read in; England, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Germany, France, Spain, Greece, Italy, India, Brazil, Argentina, and Denmark just to name a few. If you, My Dear Readers, look carefully below you can see just how many people came and read my work from these countries.

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[caption id="attachment_3676" align="aligncenter" width="630"] International Traffic By The Numbers Primary Location[/caption]

(International Traffic By The Numbers Primary Location)

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My Dear Readers, those are the graphics and numbers I came here tonight to share. However, I want to make sure that everyone understands WHY I am sharing this information. It is NOT to ‘brag’! I know that some will think that regardless of what I say or write. Let me tell you the truth of the WHY I share these graphics and numbers.

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I want you, My Dear Readers, to understand that you are part of an international community! That each and every time you come and read my work, you make yourself a part of an international audience. You become a part of a larger whole, and take a step away from being a pawn of just American news and information. In essence you take s step towards being a citizen of the world!

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You are exposing yourself to material that has an international audience. In doing you graduate from being a domestic consumer and begin the journey towards being an international citizen/consumer. It has taken me many years to develop a style of writing, a stable of regular articles, and a library of works that have the international appeal. This is a ‘Good Thing’. Being a part of a larger world, and an international community is an enviable trait and one that will serve you well for years and decades to come.

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That is my reason for gathering and sharing this information to all of you, My Dear Readers. Conversely to sharing this information, I could just gather the information, save the graphics to my hard drive, and view time and time again, alone. That is not who I am. I am a “gregarious person” just as a very good old friend was quoted saying about me. I have, always, sought to be a player in a larger audience. I would much rather be ‘A little fish in a big pond’ than ‘A big fish in a little pond’. Not a lot o people… well, a majority of people seek out the opportunity to be the ‘big fish in a little pond’.

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Further, people that are born in; smaller towns, smaller communities, in less populated states often cherish their status in the ‘smaller pond’ rather than moving to another state and/or a metropolitan setting. Challenging themselves, and their abilities, against large numbers of equally talented and educated people in these larger states, communities and metropolitan settings. I think this is why I left for Southern California just as soon as I was able, and why I kept returning. I am very proud that I was; the #1 Leasing Agent for a large Beverly Hills property Management company, the #1 Pharmacy Technician for a very large hospital (996 beds) in a metropolitan city.

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Until; my severe accident, my nerve root damage, my spinal stenosis, my loss of use of left hand/arm and left leg, and now my battle with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I, continually, set my self in contest with larger and larger communities. While I was working as a Property Manager (of Three Properties) in Beverly Hills? During my off time I competed in National Ladder Tournaments in PC-FPS gaming. During the summer of 2002 I placed (for two weeks) as #1 in a National Ladder Tournament For F.E.A.R. on Gamespy. I missed a whole ten , of competition, due to leaving Westwood for Northern California to train Leasing Agents at another property. Even with missing ten days of competition? By the end of the Tournament I placed #7 (down from THREE WEEKS at #1) competing against hundreds of other (younger) FPS players! Accomplished while managing three properties ALONE and training ‘new’ Leasing Agents all over California from Walnut Creek to San Diego.

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So, My Dear Readers, I think that you can (now) understand why I place incredible demands on myself… now in writing. However, no matter how well I write… IF I am unable to afford to fight, battle and BEAT my Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma? My international appeal as a blog writer… is of little consequence. That is WHY I continue to; ask, request, beseech, implore and (yes, even) BEG for YOUR Donations and SUPPORT! My funding campaign, Danny’s Cancer Treatment Fund @ Indiegogo IS my way of securing the financial support that is required to battle and BEAT THIS CANCER!

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Without your, My Dearest Readers, SUPPORT my writing will halt. My days will be numbered, and none of us will know what great works I might have brought into this world! That is WHY this WEEKEND I WILL be WORKING this Campaign just as HARD and INTENSLY as POSSIBLE! If you have already donated? THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!! If you have NOT? WHY? PLEASE take a moment and LOOK at the images, READ the ‘Mission Statement’, Doctor’s reports, PATHOLOGY Reports and CONSIDER CAREFULLY! PLEASE?

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My life is in YOUR, My Dearest Readers, merciful HANDS! I beseech YOU! To PLEASE take a moment and PLEASE DONATE to my campaign to raise the funds I desperately NEED to fight… to BATTLE this Cancer… and WIN! With YOUR HELP I CAN BEAT THIS CANCER!

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Adieu!

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Thank YOU!

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Danny's Cancer Treatment Fund @ Indiegogo

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PLEASE Shop at The Other Shoe eBay Store!

PLEASE SHOP at The Other Shoe eBay Store!

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PLEASE DONATE to

Danny's Cancer Treatment Fund @ Indiegogo

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Danny in Rolling Hills Estates August 12, 2014

PLEASE GIVE!?!

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© 2010 – 2014 Hanning Web Wurx and The Other Shoe

 

 

My Two Cents - September 22nd, 2014

[caption id="attachment_3371" align="aligncenter" width="300"] My Two Cents[/caption]

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Welcome back My Dear Readers to The Other Shoe another edition of ‘My Two Cents’. It is been many weeks since my last edition of ‘My Two Cents’ was published here at The Other Shoe. I could sit here and enumerate the myriad reasons for the absence of any edition of this article series. However, instead of looking back My Dear Readers I will choose to look forward. Since my last appearance, in this franchise, I have been diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Upon the receipt of this; untimely, unfortunate, unwanted, frightening news I immediately snapped into a ‘Critical Thinking’ mode.

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For now two generations, that I know of, the Hanning family has been periodically plagued with that parasitic pathogen cancer. Each and every time I have seen it rear its ugly head, in my family history, it is wrought financial disaster wherever it went. Due to my physical inability to perform any kind of work that would pay a wage, I saw the onset of this cancer is the tip of the sword. A sword that would lead to the undoing of my life, my life of 28 years with Alan, and my ability to keep a roof over my head. Now, My Dear Readers, you want to know something even more frightening than cancer? Think about having cancer and being homeless at the same time.

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That, My Dear Readers, was the fear that rose its ugly terrifying head August 8, 2014. The reality of my familial- existence is that I could count on only one thing. I could not count on my family to come to my assistance. Whereas that might seem brutal, harsh, unfeeling, and insensitive, and for the majority of you a frame of reference we could not possibly share, it is just the reality of the past 40 years of my life. That is not to say, My Dear Readers, that the family I have does not love me. For all I know, they do. However, since my father walked out on his wife and his two remaining sons in the late 60s? I have learned that to be a 'Hanning' is to learn how to make it from one crisis or event, to another completely alone.

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So be it. Now, My Dear Readers, I had every good hearted intention to not hold a fund-raising campaign this year! I remember the parable of ‘The Boy who Cried Wolf’. Having remembered this parable well I, myself, did not want to fall into a pattern of behavior that left those that do care (about my welfare) feeling spent by their efforts to assist. Allen and I were making it just fine. Like a good many millions upon millions of Americans, Allen and I were living paycheck to paycheck, month-to-month, hand to mouth. There is no great pride, in living that way, but we were making it and we were making it on our own. My Dear Readers I struggled with the next decision of my life greatly.

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Over the next week, starting August 8, 2014 when I was told I have lymphatic cancer, I’m willing to bet I did not sleep one night in three. I laid awake each and every night tossing and turning and struggling with a decision I had prayed God I would never have to make. I could go forward, and battle my cancer alone with no help nor assistance from friend or family or acquaintance. Following this path, most assuredly, at some point in the next 18 months, 'needs' would far outstrip 'means'. At that point Allen and I would be left with a choice of stopping any current treatment to battle my cancer, or lose their roof over our heads.

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Now, My Dear Readers, the decision-making process was not one I made solely alone. I discussed this, at length, with Allen prior to making my decision. I touched base with the family members that I am still in contact with, only to find them quite bereft of the ability to help. On August 15, 2014, at about seven the evening, I came to my final decision. My Dear Readers I had struggled now a long and sleepless week with a difficult ’no-win’ situation. On one hand, I could move forward with treatment Allen would lose days and days of work for weeks at a time, and in a matter of months our needs… The demands of my cancer would far outstrip our means to meet these demands.

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At which time, My Dear Readers, we would find ourselves completely in able to pay our rent thus resulting in our eviction from our home… And homelessness. The alternative would be to tell my doctors, my primary care physician and my oncologist, that I was to refuse treatment for my recently diagnosed cancer. To do so would be to challenge my primary care physician’s judgment about the best course of treatment for my health. I understood that if I chose this course of action my primary care physician and oncologist could refuse further treatment, based on my poor judgment regarding my health. Under Medicare any doctor that is currently treating you can, at any moment at their discretion, choose to halt their participation in your healthcare. I do this from reading the literature provided by Medicare, and I knew this because my primary care physician had explained it to me previously. So you see, My Dear Readers, to initially refuse any staging of my cancer or following chemotherapy would be to risk the loss of all my practitioners.

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With that in mind, My Dear Readers, I concluded that the best and most logical course of action would be to chance becoming a character in a parable, to risk excommunication by my fellow Texans, to invite the dissolution of multigenerational friendships, and to seek the kindness and support (I now much needed) to battle this cancer. Over the next 48 hours I put the final finishing touches on a preliminary campaign I had drawn up, earlier that month. I had never intended on using the draft campaign I shared with you, My Dear Readers, on August 11, 2014. I didn’t sleep much, over the next 48 hours, as I tried to come up with a ‘Mission Statement’ that didn’t sound too trite, to pathetic, or too demanding. I hope and pray none of you never have to experience what that feels like.

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On August 17, 2014 I, with a heavy heart and deep regret, launched Danny’s Cancer Treatment Fund @ Indiegogo[1]. My Dear Readers since that day I have done my level best to; write every single day that I am physically able, publish every single day I have something written worth publishing, update the campaign with every event in every publication, publicize the campaign via Facebook and YouTube to the best of my ability and financial means, post regular and informative updates via Facebook and both of my blogs, and to keep myself from reaching to deep in the depths of depression. That’s a lot of goals My Dear Readers, and I am but one man. I will never know, for sure, why this campaign did not catch on like my two previous campaigns.

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I may well never know why many of my; friends, family, acquaintances and readers of my two blogs helped twice previously, but did not hearken to my call for assistance in my battle with cancer. All I do know is that in 35 days I have raised $150. Starting today I begin the 10 day countdown to the end of said campaign. My Dear Readers, I have a little less than 10 days to raise enough money for my continued treatment in my battle for cancer. In the first 35 days I have provided; pathology reports, biopsy reports, physician’s notes, images from scans, and test results. There are at least a half dozen incidences where, in these reports, it clearly states Danny Hanning has a lymphoma. That Danny Hanning has been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

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All that remains, in this part of my battle with cancer, is a little less than 10 days of me writing and publishing and promoting and praying that more will come forward and join the few that have already donated to help me battle cancer. The facts are there, my writing this here, my need is genuine, my cancer quite real. It is my, now published, desire to continue with and win my battle with this lymphatic cancer. It is my intent and desire to use money raised from this campaign exclusively in the battle with this cancer that has invaded my body and life. It will be the focus of the next 200 hours of my life to convince you My Dear Readers, to come forward and pledge five dollars, $10, $20, $200 to enable me to battle and beat cancer and keep a roof over my head.

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In closing, again, I never wanted to run a campaign this year. My Dear Readers I wanted 2014 to be a year where I wrote, published, and entertained without asking anything, one red cent, from you or anyone else. But as they say ‘the best laid plans of mice and men…’. I come to you, in these closing hours of my campaign, to ask, to implore, to convince, to beseech you My Dearest Readers, to reach out and help lift me so that I might stand in battle and win this war on my cancer.

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My Dear Readers I thank you for your time today, I thank you for your patience your understanding your kindness and your support. I look forward to writing and sharing them with you again tomorrow, until then please click the links below, take a moment and help change my life for the better.

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Adieu!

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Thank YOU!

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Adieu!

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Thank YOU!

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Danny's Cancer Treatment Fund @ Indiegogo

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PLEASE Shop at The Other Shoe eBay Store!

PLEASE SHOP at The Other Shoe eBay Store!

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PLEASE DONATE to

Danny's Cancer Treatment Fund @ Indiegogo

[caption id="attachment_3338" align="aligncenter" width="225"] Danny in Rolling Hills Estates August 12, 2014[/caption]

PLEASE GIVE!?!

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© 2010 – 2014 Hanning Web Wurx and The Other Shoe

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[1]https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/danny-s-cancer-treatment-fund/x/753895#activity

A Little Family History

                Welcome back My Dear Readers to The Other Shoe. Every three months I am required to make a long an arduous journey. That journey happen this Tuesday, and I am still feeling the pain. Gratefully my doctor improved my pain medications, and I have actually managed to sleep a night or two, in the past four. However, I am quite bereft of the physical ability it takes to produce. Produce the writing, at the quality and quantity, you My Dear Readers have become accustom.

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Rather than just throw something together, that I will regret at a later time, I have elected to go another direction. For today, I have journeyed into my past, my writing past. When I started this blog, I had but a handful of followers, not like today’s following. Believe it or not, even back in 2010 and 2011 I could manage a good-to-great article. Today, I am going to share a little something that I wrote back in 2010. A little voice from days long past.

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As I have mentioned, frequently in my 350^th series, I started this blog as a counterpoint to the loud and angry diversionist voices that dominated the airwaves and cable television. This article was an (vain) effort to reach out from my past and ask for reason and thoughtful action. This article was written at the time of the hubbub over a Mosque planed near the site of the Twin Towers.

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I have removed the content that pertains to the conversation of the time. I have looked over this article, and I realized that this content stands all alone. My readership was not was it is today, but my writing was not all that bad, even in the beginning. I am working on some up-to-date political works, and ‘A Week in Review’ should be ready later today. Look forward to a very special ‘Sunday Funnies’ tomorrow, as Alexander and I worked hard for this week’s show.

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So, without further adieu I present ‘A Brief Family History’. By Daniel Hanning…

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A Grandfather's Love

A young Irish lad who had just arrived in New York, via Ellis Island, was working and happy with coming to America and becoming an American. It was 1920 and opportunity abounded in the city for young men willing to work hard. Irish immigration had seen it's difficulties, but most of that prejudice was a part of a past he had not personally witnessed. Life was good for Oscar Hanning, and all that was lacking was a wife and a family of his own.

One spring day Oscar meet a vibrant and educated young woman from Germany. She was not like the lasses that he had meet so far. Her name was Betty Schulemberg, and Oscar planned on asking for her hand in marriage. This is when Oscar's wonderful life in his new home took a turn that would change his life in unimaginable ways. You see Betty was from a Jewish family and Oscar had been raised Catholic.

In the months that passed, prior to their marriage, Oscar found himself; without work, shunned by his family and friends, evicted by his landlord and frequently harassed and beaten by people he once knew as friends. Betty's life had taken a similar route. Even though Oscar had agreed to, and begun, a conversion to Judaism Betty's parents were steadfast against marriage to an 'outsider'. They insisted that no Irish convert to Judaism could be a good husband for her, or Father for her children. Her Father forbade her from marrying Oscar Hanning, and her mother begged Betty to find a 'nice Jewish boy' from the neighborhood to marry and make her Father happy.

This was paradoxical, because Oscar (through his studies) was actually finding his new faith fit him. As a boy he was always confused by certain aspects of his Catholic faith. The Jewish people came from a long and tortured past, but managed to keep a loving and nurturing home and family. He had found great wisdom and strength in what he learned. Oscar was moved by the story of Abraham and Issac, and the birth of the Jewish people and asked Betty to tell it to him again and again.

Oscar took to wearing his Yarmulke to worship and back. This proved to be a worse idea than Oscar had imagined. It was a night, like any other, for Oscar. He was walking home, from Temple, and his head was lost in thoughts of getting home and sitting down to the dinner Betty was (most likely) making for him this very moment. As thoughts of worship shifted to thoughts of a more corporal nature, there was a sharp pain in the back of his head and he found himself on his knees grabbing the back of his, now sore, head. His vision was undoubling when he heard a familiar voice;

“Hey, Ooscor, whatcha doin wearing that sissy hat?”

Followed by another even more familiar voice, that of his brother;

“Yeah, Ooscor, whatcha doin with that Kike hat on your head? Don'tcha know, lill brother, that's a sure way of getting your ass kicked?”

Oscar went to stand up, and 'explain' things to his brother. He never got the chance. That night two men that Oscar; had been born and raised around, crossed the Atlantic Ocean to chase a dream with, and had loved as much as any good Irish son should, beat Oscar Hanning to within an inch of his life and dumped him on his door step for his wife Betty to find. Oscar never wore his Yarmulke, to or from worship again, but it didn't matter. This may have been the first beating Oscar survived, at the hands of close friends and family, but it wasn't the last.

How long ago, it seemed, when their lives were without conflict, but also without love. After six months of Oscar and Betty trying hard to make their relationship work with their families and friends. Six months of Betty fighting with her Father and holding her Mother's hand as she cried at the thought of loosing her only daughter, and six months of sparse work for Oscar and regular beatings for his betrayal of his Catholic faith. Oscar and Betty moved to Columbus, Ohio to start life over and raise their family. They had one son, Kenneth Urban Hanning. Father of Kenneth R. Hanning, Darrell K. Hanning and Daniel L. Hanning.

For the next thirteen years Oscar worked hard to fit into the world his love had guided him to, but even after moving to Columbus his pain and suffering did not stop. Being Irish but of Jewish faith, he seemed to never completly fit in to either world. Yes the Rabbi and the congregation accepted him as one of their own, but he never found his way to acceptance among the Temple's Elders. His love had brought him to a faith that separated him from his family, his identity, and his past. The only place that he felt truly at home was when he was with Betty and his new son Ken.

The only place he could find work was making moonshine in tubs in the basement of his home to sell. This new line of work did not mix well with his alcoholism, and his marriage and his relationship with his young son were lost in the battle. A battle that started with loving a woman of a different faith, ended in a shattered family and dashed dreams.

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A Mother's Trial

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The year is 1904. The location is little know place just outside Las Cruces, New Mexico known as the Mescalero Apache Reservation. The still of the turn-of-the-century night is broken by screams. These are not screams of fright or fear, they are the screams that come with the birth of new life... and the ending of another. On this night a female child is born. Her name is Margaret Nora Gary, and her mother is an Apache Indian (born and raised on the reservation) and her father is a Dutch immigrant brick layer. But all is not as it should be, this night. Shortly after giving birth to a beautiful and glowing baby girl, the daughter of the Apache nation dies. Leaving Margaret without her mother, and her father without his wife and love.

Margie (as she has become known) finds herself a child of two different and waring worlds. Being raised by her father's mother, Margaret is not allowed to visit the reservation (just outside of town) that she was born on. She longs to know of her mother, and her mother's people. To know them, she understands, is to better know herself. Her father is away with work, much of the time, and she is left in the care of her elderly grandmother/mother. Margie is raised as a 'White' girl and told not to speak of her real mother, or where she was born. She is made to were frilly patterned dresses, but she longs to wear clothes like the girls she sees from the reservation. She listens to the jazz and big bands on the radio, but longs to hear the drums and songs she knows belong to her people.

She, also, quickly learns of the 'White Peoples' distrust and hatred of the Apache. Margie sees how the Apache people are treated by shop keepers, not allowed in most stores and watched and monitored in those they are allowed to shop in. Humiliated and spat on in the streets and thought of by most white Americans as 'drunken Indians' or 'horse stealing Indians'. At a young age Margie understands how important it is for her to keep her little secret. People in her town think of her as a white woman, and Margie knows it is best to keep it that way. Still, she deeply longs to know of her mother, her other people.

Then Margie learns, in school (white man's school), of the massacre of her people, and the loss of their native lands. As she reads of each victory for the White man, she recoils in pain and confusion. There is no one in her life, but her elderly grandmother, to ask about what she is learning in school. Her grandmother tells her that “them Injuns deserved to die, they were savages, didn't believe in God and the Lord Jesus Christ! Best you give it no never-mind.” This does not satisfy Margie's curiosity about herself, or her people's past. She knows where she might be able to get the other side of the story though, the reservation!

Being the willful and clever girl she is, Margaret eventually finds her way free to explore the reservation. She is twelve years old when she first ventures on the the reservation where she was born, and it was a day that she remembered as clear as it was yesterday, when she told me of it when I was eight. Her Dad was away on one of his many masonry projects in North Texas, and Grandma had a little too much to drink after lunch. This was the time that Margie had been waiting for, for as long as she could remember. She had been given a bike, for last year's birthday, and she got on it and pointed in the direction of the reservation. She had put on one of her best dresses, combed her hair neatly and even used her fathers shoe buff to clean her Sunday shoes. Margie wanted to look her best when she meet her other family's people for the first time.

It took Margie more than an hour to ride out to the reservation. She passed long stretches of road with nothing on the horizon for miles, just cactus and sand. It was an hour, or so, before dusk when Margie reached the edge of the reservation. She was confused, there was just a sign (and a rusty half standing wire fence) that tells you that you are leaving the United States of America and are entering the Apache Nation Reservation. Why were there no guard posts or soldiers posted here? From what she had read, and been told, these were very dangerous heathen people. As she processed this thought, she found herself at the edge of the town.

Shock, that is what Margie felt, when she rode into the reservation. Her mouth feel open, and her peddling slowed to a stop. Never in her life had she imagined what she was witness too. Yes, there were the people in colorful native clothing, but there were poorly made and maintained shanty houses instead of the beautiful wigwams she had imagined. There was sewage running down the side of the streets and the smell was making her sick to her stomach. Just as her stomach began to toss and turn, she noticed she was being approached by several of the 'less savory' people on the street, Indians in dirty and worn 'white peoples' clothes.

She starts to back up, on her bike, when she hears mumbling in Apache. Suddenly her regress is stopped, someone has come up behind her and stopped her bike. She looks over her shoulder to see a very tall, very thin, very old Indian with brilliant eyes and beautifully adored hair. She was making note of his clothing, native and with many symbols and markings on it, when two things happened. First, she felt the warm and firm embrace of the large hands of the Indian behind her. The second was the dirt clod that smashed into her freshly cleaned and ironed dress.

“Half-Breed! We know what you are, Margaret!”

This from one of the Indians blocking her way forward. There is more shouting, from those in front of her, most of it in Apache and she does not understand what is being said but she is certain that it is not nice. More clods of mud and dirt strike her, as the crowd in front of her grows closer. Fear and confusion are flowing over her in waves, she falters on her bike, begins to cry when she hears a deep and fluid voice speak behind her. It is the man that is holding her, and she can not understand his words but she can tell his is reproachful to the Indians in front of her. There are more screams of “half-breed” and yelling in native tongue, when suddenly she feels she is being lifted up, bike and all.

“It is time for you to go, my Little Sparrow. My heart is filled with joy at seeing you, and sadness for what you see and hear today.”

It is the voice of the large Indian behind her, he has lifted her around and back down the road facing out of town. He is very strong, but very gentle. He smells of leather, and fresh air, and camp fires. Nothing like the Indians she has passed in town, there is something haunting her in this smell. The large Indian has set her safely on the road, as dirt clods and garbage strike his back. Carefully he leans over to her ear, still shielding her for the angry Indians, and he whispers in her ear:

“It is time for you to go, my Little Sparrow.” He says again.

“Do not judge your people by the actions of these few haters, Little Sparrow. There is love for you among your people, just not now.”

The people that had been in front of her are now right behind the old Indian, and fear begins to grip her again. She feels the Indian gently push her bike down the road, and hears the Indian say;

“Now fly Little Sparrow, fly! Peddle your bike quickly, and go home.”

Margie peddled her bike as quick as her legs could, faster than she had ever peddled before flying down the dirt road. Behind her she hears yelling and arguing, and above it all the deep voice of the Indian that just saved her from a fate she dare not imagine.

From a young age, I heard these stories. Early in life I learned what being a different religion meant, in this world today. Or a different heritage. Mother never spoke of; the reservation, her mother, and that day to anyone else in the family. I don't know why my mother choose to share her past with just me. I don't why Oscar told me the stories he did of New York and his love for Judaism. That is, until recently, I didn't understand.

One hundred years ago the Jewish people were hated and demonized in lot of America. It was written that Jews practiced animal sacrifice and mutilated their children (circumcision). Jews were accused of everything from controlling the nation's wealth, to devil worship. They were beaten, stoned and killed just for what they believed. For worshiping the same God we do (Judea-Christian God) in a different way, in a different language, with different rites, on the wrong day of the week. American media (at the time) was convinced that they were right and Jews should be separated for fear they would take over our country and government. Sound familiar?

Genocide. That is how our great nation managed to expand so swiftly. Genocide of the Native American Indian. Over eight different tribes of American Indian wiped off the face of the Earth. There was never a real count going on (from 1500-1880) but it is estimated that American Armies and civilians killed some eight MILLION American Indians. They were thought of as heathens and Devil worshipers, too. Now Americans loose hundreds of millions of dollars, each year, in their casinos. The run for, and win, public office and have improved they way of life of many tribes throughout California, Arizona and New Mexico.

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And, with that I will take my leave for today. My Dear Readers, I published this work from yester-year today for one reason. During my visit with Dr. Gorlick my father and mother came up. He did not know that my mother was an American Indian born on a reservation. He did not know that my father had met my mother while working at the Los Alamos Project (Fat Man and Little Boy). This is a story that my mother relayed to me late in her life. My father, to his credit, never spoke of his work at Los Alamos. I have put together his history from photos and letters (from that period) between my mother and father during that time.

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This is just the beginning… of a Love Story that I am working to finish. The story of my parents meeting, at a time of war… in a place where the two single most destructive devices ever known to man, were built. I am a product of that love built in a place of darkness and death. Some people believe that the use of these atomic bombs was necessary and merited due to the attack on Pearl Harbor. Some believe that the use of these bombs changed mankind forever, and not for the better.

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Regardless of which side you may find yourself, we live in a world where these two bombs changed mankind’s future and fortunes. For me, if it was not for these bombs, and the project that made them, I would not be alive today. This is where my story begins… in a dessert in New Mexico… at the site of a project, that changed mankind.

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As always I am deeply honored that you come here and read my work.

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Thank YOU!

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