The sibling rivalry between me and one of my sisters has lasted a life-time.
I have a sister who is “the middle” child. She’s smart—with a high IQ.
When we were kids, this particular sister was the primary focus of our mother’s constant rage. And I always knew the frequent physical abuse she (we) suffered at the hands of our mother affected my sister, and would do so for the rest of her life—and it has.
Growing up, my relationship with my sister was always rocky; and her relationship with our oldest sister was distant because she knew our oldest sister was not to be harassed, disturbed, or otherwise “messed with.” I figured my sister’s unremitting physical and verbal attacks on me was due to the abuse she experienced from our mother. So I overlooked and forgave her for much of the guff and fights she started with me.
There were instances where my enemy-sister caused notable physical injury to me, i.e., on one occasion, while holding a thick papermate ink pen as if she was about to throw a dart into a dart board--from across the room, she said to me: I'm going to strike you in the eye and knock your eyeball out; and with great precision and velocity she unleashed the ink pen in dart fashion striking me directly in my eye. Our oldest sister beat her until both her eyes were blackened and her nose was broken. (Note: When we were kids, we fought nearly to the death.) Unfortunately, the terrible beatings our olderest sister would subject my enemy-sister to were not sufficient to deter my enemy-sister's violent behavior.
On another occasion, my enemy-sister told me to lay my hands flat in the windowsill directly under the raised window. Like a fool, I placed both my hands across the window ledge and she slammed the window down as hard as she could, fracturing my right hand. Again, our oldest sister stomped, beat, and threw her out of our first-floor window into the back yard--luckily my enemy-sister was not seriously injury from the fall. However, after this particular instance, our oldest sister insisted that she teach me how to fight--she forced me into being receptive to "fighting lessons."
By the time I reached the age of nine (I was a thick girl), our oldest sister had taught me how to fight. She and I use to practice-fight everyday; and she told me that the day I am able to knock her unconscious will be the day I’d win a fight with our sister.
Practice, practice, and practice I did with my oldest sister. She would tell me “not to worry about hurting her because that meant I was getting better” [at fighting]—and believe me we were doing some real damage to one another in our practice-fights: Bruised knuckles, hair snatched out—me—bloody noses, a black eye—me—scratches, sprang ankle—me—raggedy clothes, dirt-in-the-eyes—me again—lumps on the head, and a fractured thumb—me, of course.
Then one particular Monday evening, after school, we hit the field to practice-fight, and within 5 minutes, I knocked her out cold. When she fell backwards, I knelt next to her, shook her—she was slobbering from one corner of her mouth—I put my mouth under her nose to check her breathing—she was breathing. I jumped up in shear animation, shouting: I DID IT! I DID IT! I FINALLY KNOCKED HER OUT. (My hand was throbbing really bad.)
Our mother heard me in the field shouting, and from the porch, she saw my sister laid-out on the ground. She appeared within seconds. She smacked me really hard asking me what happened. I didn’t care. I was pumped. I exclaimed: I knocked her out! A neighbor, who was a Registered Nurse, revived my sister and walked her to the house. As they were walking up the stairs, my sister begged our mother not to punish me because she was teaching me how to fight. It worked because my mother didn’t beat me that night. She actually thought we were crazy for practice-fighting to harmful heights.
The next day, I almost lost my mind waiting for my enemy sister to come home from school. As soon as she walked in the house, I snatched her off her feet and began beating her. She was in shock. First, she could not believe that I started the fight, and secondly she was flabbergasted that I was winning. She was strong as panther-piss just like our oldest sister. But I had become even stronger. I fought her like a wild animal. We fought all over the house with our oldest sister coaching me every step of the way on where and how to hit her. My oldest sister was fanatically screaming at me: “KNOCK HER THE HELL OUT! DO IT NOW!” Then I surprised my sister-opponent: I hit her dead-center of her face, knocking her out cold. I hit her so hard, I broke my hand. I was so maxed with adrenaline that initially I didn’t even feel the pain until I tried to move my hand.
When my mother got home, she had to take me to ER. I was so proud of myself. But what I didn’t know was that fight would set the stage for us to fight everyday for the next 6 years—we never missed a day, and I never lost another fight with her. Unfortunately, her hatred of me slowly began to build.
As adults, I recognized that my sister’s hatred of me was real. It consumed her. It extended beyond sibling rivalry and was stringent. Her hatred and jealousy was obvious to everyone that knows us, even to strangers. But I still treated her with dignity, love, and respect. Yet, she never missed an opportunity to betray and hurt me.
The things she would do and say were ghastly. Things got so bad between us that I had to eliminate her from my life. To this day—in the year 2013—my sister frequently calls—all of my phones—to cuss me out, threaten me, and harass me.
Although I would welcome and love to have a stable, non-confrontational, loving relationship with her, I know that will never happen—it never has. Therefore, I do not allow her in my life or my home.
So my advice is this: If you have children and you notice the rivalry between them is regular, check it. Get to the bottom of the problem in order to help them resolve their issues with one another.
Why?
Because sibling rivalry can last a life time—take it from me. I know. I’m living it.
Believe, Saishe!
Monday, February 4, 2013
Need Help Paying for Your Med? Go to Walgreens! They Have A Discount Program
If you do not have health insurance and/or prescription coverage, and cannot afford to pay for or pay the full cost of your prescription medicines, Walgreens’ Pharmacies—throughout the United States/perhaps abroad— has a program titled the “Prescription Savings Club,”, and annual membership is only $20.00.
To give you an example of the discount benefits of the Walgreens’ Prescription Savings Club, following is the cost of cholesterol medication Pravastatin if you become a member:
"Pravastatin is a “Tier 1” med except for 80mg Pravastatin—it is a “Tier 3 meication:"
Tier 1 Pravastatin 30-day Supply $ 5.00 & 90-day Supply $10.00
Tier 3 Pravastatin (80mg):30-day Supply $15.00 & 90-day Supply $30.00
(Note: This information was given to me 02/04/2013 by a Walgreens Pharmacist.)
Many people do not know about this program, so be sure to share this information with people who cannot afford their medications. Perhaps other drug stores offer a similar program so be sure to ask your local pharmacy.
Love, Saishe!
To give you an example of the discount benefits of the Walgreens’ Prescription Savings Club, following is the cost of cholesterol medication Pravastatin if you become a member:
"Pravastatin is a “Tier 1” med except for 80mg Pravastatin—it is a “Tier 3 meication:"
Tier 1 Pravastatin 30-day Supply $ 5.00 & 90-day Supply $10.00
Tier 3 Pravastatin (80mg):30-day Supply $15.00 & 90-day Supply $30.00
(Note: This information was given to me 02/04/2013 by a Walgreens Pharmacist.)
Many people do not know about this program, so be sure to share this information with people who cannot afford their medications. Perhaps other drug stores offer a similar program so be sure to ask your local pharmacy.
Love, Saishe!
African-Americans Create Their Own Dismal Circumstances
Life minus education and economics equals failure. In addition, the breakdown of culture divided by fatherlessness and supportive guidance—especially among boys—creates an energetic lacking of life-path directions and morals. All of this multiplied by millions equals carnage, a profound sense of anguish, and apathy that is so entrenched, astonishing, and wide-spread it bewilders one’s senses.
Quite frankly, as a human being, I am embarrassed, as well as sickened to the core of my heart, mind, and soul that in the 21st century, our children have proliferated to habitually killing one another and people at random.
I live in Chicago where a total and shocking collapse of respect for human life exist—for which I cannot begin to describe the magnitude of my personal pain and shame.
I travel this nation. And I witness, read, and hear about the same alarming carnage that is being carried out by our children in Chicago is occurring everywhere I go. Our dreadful socio-economic circumstances even expand the globe. Needless to say: I am framed in shame.
I am perpetually flummoxed by the fact that African-Americans still jump out into the street—in mass, in 2013—and march with signs reading: STOP THE KILLING! And each time I see this, I’m more convinced that my people are stuck in a mind-set that marching will somehow solve our problems and/or “stop the killing.” I’m mortified by this.
I really become incensed when I see people like [“Rev”] Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton grand-marshaling fake-marches with people whose kids are being slaughtered in family proportions. And the reason I’m increasingly and rabidly angered is because Jessie Jackson and other “black” so-called leaders know exactly what must be done to reverse the lethal social and bleak economics conditions permeating throughout every African-American community in the United States of American.
During the past 40+ years, never have I witnessed so-called leaders implementing strategies or utilizing the same type of resources and principles they used to better themselves and the lives of their children
Had the self-proclaimed civil rights preachers in African-American communities employed the methods they applied in raising their own children—especially in conjunction with the billions of government-allocated anti-poverty funds they received, controlled and disbursed to themselves and their wealthy friends over the past 40 years—today, we would not be submerged in a cesspool of soaring crime, high-employment, and low education; and we largely would not be “low information” voters. Misguidance and low-ingenuity perpetrated by people like Jessie Jackson, Al Sharpton, and most African-American preachers and politicians drives my stringent resentment towards them.
The problem is we—as African-Americans—are still failing to build an economic coalition among ourselves to divert a massive portion of the half-trillion dollars+ we contribute to the national economy in ways that will directly improve our economic conditions—especially for our fathers, husbands and sons.
I cannot—for the life of me—wrap my mind around why African-Americans are so economically backwards and against one another. Somebody! Please help me understand why we are not helping ourselves! Coming together to help ourselves is not rocket science—for God’s sake! We are already—and have been for a centuries—contributing to the economic superiority of every race on the planet except our own. Yet, we are worse-off now than we were in the 1960’s prior to the assassination of Dr. King in 1968.
Today, we’re still marching against high-crime, etc. We’ve marched in the past! We marched again! And marched some more! Remember [the]: two “Million Men” marches and one “Million Women” march, during which we spent—for each march—a minimum of $300.00 each to attend. Check-out the math as follows:
3,000,000,000 (People)
x $____ 300 (Spent Per person)= $900,000,000(Nine-Hundred Million Dollars)
Combined, African-Americans spent $900,000,000 million—nearly one-billion dollars, if not a billion-plus—to attend three marches to hear facsimile messages at 2 [of the marches].
*Imagine the prosperous economic impact on our communities had we—back then—invested nearly a billion dollars in an investment fund to expand and create African-American owned businesses and jobs. We’d be better off today—in the year 2013—and many of our people—especially our fathers, husbands, and sons—would be employed as opposed to standing on street corners drifting, drinking, doing drugs, robbing, stealing, and killing.
But I’m ready to try again to do something about it! I’m so ready,
Mid-Summer 2013 I wrote to and asked Mellody Hobson, President of Ariel Investments, Inc. (in Chicago) to create and manage an investment fund if we become successful at encouraging African-Americans to contribute to such as fund for the above-stated purposes.
Several weeks after Ms. Hobson's wedding, she sent a very nice note explaining that her busy schedule would not permit her to do so. But I am not discouraged.
My position remains the same, and I am not discouraged. I am going to continue pursuing my people to focus on our collective economic possibilities. I still propose that instead of marching, let’s invest a minimum of $100.00 (One Hundred Dollars) each—millions of us—in an investment fund to put our people on the road of economic prosperity.
If we are not willing to do this, we are not willing to change our dismal economic and social conditions. And, we’ll continue to be disregarded by others, disrespected and murdered by our children, and our fathers, husbands, and sons will never benefit from the power of our economic contributions to a society that is hell-bent on keeping them—our fathers, husbands, and sons debased and subjugated. Let us save ourselves from ourselves!
Are you willing? If so, send me an email to saishebrokesom@hotmail.com and I’ll forward it to Mellody Hobson (Google Ms. Hobson and read her background). In the “Subject” box type: Support of an Investment Fund. Express your views, or leave a comment on my blog with your name and number, or email address. Please and thank you.
Forever, Saishe!
Quite frankly, as a human being, I am embarrassed, as well as sickened to the core of my heart, mind, and soul that in the 21st century, our children have proliferated to habitually killing one another and people at random.
I live in Chicago where a total and shocking collapse of respect for human life exist—for which I cannot begin to describe the magnitude of my personal pain and shame.
I travel this nation. And I witness, read, and hear about the same alarming carnage that is being carried out by our children in Chicago is occurring everywhere I go. Our dreadful socio-economic circumstances even expand the globe. Needless to say: I am framed in shame.
I am perpetually flummoxed by the fact that African-Americans still jump out into the street—in mass, in 2013—and march with signs reading: STOP THE KILLING! And each time I see this, I’m more convinced that my people are stuck in a mind-set that marching will somehow solve our problems and/or “stop the killing.” I’m mortified by this.
I really become incensed when I see people like [“Rev”] Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton grand-marshaling fake-marches with people whose kids are being slaughtered in family proportions. And the reason I’m increasingly and rabidly angered is because Jessie Jackson and other “black” so-called leaders know exactly what must be done to reverse the lethal social and bleak economics conditions permeating throughout every African-American community in the United States of American.
During the past 40+ years, never have I witnessed so-called leaders implementing strategies or utilizing the same type of resources and principles they used to better themselves and the lives of their children
Had the self-proclaimed civil rights preachers in African-American communities employed the methods they applied in raising their own children—especially in conjunction with the billions of government-allocated anti-poverty funds they received, controlled and disbursed to themselves and their wealthy friends over the past 40 years—today, we would not be submerged in a cesspool of soaring crime, high-employment, and low education; and we largely would not be “low information” voters. Misguidance and low-ingenuity perpetrated by people like Jessie Jackson, Al Sharpton, and most African-American preachers and politicians drives my stringent resentment towards them.
The problem is we—as African-Americans—are still failing to build an economic coalition among ourselves to divert a massive portion of the half-trillion dollars+ we contribute to the national economy in ways that will directly improve our economic conditions—especially for our fathers, husbands and sons.
I cannot—for the life of me—wrap my mind around why African-Americans are so economically backwards and against one another. Somebody! Please help me understand why we are not helping ourselves! Coming together to help ourselves is not rocket science—for God’s sake! We are already—and have been for a centuries—contributing to the economic superiority of every race on the planet except our own. Yet, we are worse-off now than we were in the 1960’s prior to the assassination of Dr. King in 1968.
Today, we’re still marching against high-crime, etc. We’ve marched in the past! We marched again! And marched some more! Remember [the]: two “Million Men” marches and one “Million Women” march, during which we spent—for each march—a minimum of $300.00 each to attend. Check-out the math as follows:
3,000,000,000 (People)
x $____ 300 (Spent Per person)= $900,000,000(Nine-Hundred Million Dollars)
Combined, African-Americans spent $900,000,000 million—nearly one-billion dollars, if not a billion-plus—to attend three marches to hear facsimile messages at 2 [of the marches].
*Imagine the prosperous economic impact on our communities had we—back then—invested nearly a billion dollars in an investment fund to expand and create African-American owned businesses and jobs. We’d be better off today—in the year 2013—and many of our people—especially our fathers, husbands, and sons—would be employed as opposed to standing on street corners drifting, drinking, doing drugs, robbing, stealing, and killing.
But I’m ready to try again to do something about it! I’m so ready,
Mid-Summer 2013 I wrote to and asked Mellody Hobson, President of Ariel Investments, Inc. (in Chicago) to create and manage an investment fund if we become successful at encouraging African-Americans to contribute to such as fund for the above-stated purposes.
Several weeks after Ms. Hobson's wedding, she sent a very nice note explaining that her busy schedule would not permit her to do so. But I am not discouraged.
My position remains the same, and I am not discouraged. I am going to continue pursuing my people to focus on our collective economic possibilities. I still propose that instead of marching, let’s invest a minimum of $100.00 (One Hundred Dollars) each—millions of us—in an investment fund to put our people on the road of economic prosperity.
If we are not willing to do this, we are not willing to change our dismal economic and social conditions. And, we’ll continue to be disregarded by others, disrespected and murdered by our children, and our fathers, husbands, and sons will never benefit from the power of our economic contributions to a society that is hell-bent on keeping them—our fathers, husbands, and sons debased and subjugated. Let us save ourselves from ourselves!
Are you willing? If so, send me an email to saishebrokesom@hotmail.com and I’ll forward it to Mellody Hobson (Google Ms. Hobson and read her background). In the “Subject” box type: Support of an Investment Fund. Express your views, or leave a comment on my blog with your name and number, or email address. Please and thank you.
Forever, Saishe!
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