OPEN FORUMS AND HOW TO DEAL WITH THEM and HONORING OUR HEROES

Click photos to enlarge

I visit a forum sometimes. I go there, because I want to feel connected. There are times, I stay away. There are times, I feel hurt. There are times I shouldn't be there, because I certainly should be doing some other important thing. Really, every minute there, is a minute away from what I really want to do and that is doing something creative. So why do I go there? Well, I have this strong feeling toward Heath Ledger and I want to find ways to feel closer to him, albeit he is living on another plane right now.

At youtube, there are times, I simply don't comment, though I feel a pull to do so. But I feel the best way to handle the meaner comments is by simply not engaging the person at all. Why would I want to fight with a complete stranger? I have no idea how mentally stable the person might be. And some people just want to pick a fight, be mean, or complain. I don't like to quarrel in "real life", so I am not going to quarrel online where winning means so very little.

As for forums, I only go to three forums at the current time. Two for Rafael Nadal and one for Heath Ledger.

Recently there has been a subject of Heath's funeral that has caused some discussion about "freedom of speech" and "being protective of those who feel vulnerable regarding Heath's death".

I will offer my opinion that I have for the moderator's decision that was to simply move the comment in question to a "members only" section at the forum. The comment was not deleted, but moved to protect any family or friends of Heath that may find it too raw of a subject should they drop in to read.

Here is my opinion about the discussion of how to deal with the sensitive question of a possible open casket on the open forum versus sensitivity toward those who may need some "emotional shelter".

I choose not to join discussions that I am not comfortable with online. There are times that I simply choose to stay away until I can handle my emotions. Especially online. Real life is different. But online, I come here to garnish the good and as an escape from what real life is throwing at me. So online, I stay away from any conflicting situations. It is just how I choose to deal. I am an activist to prevent and end genocide and have been since 2004 and I stand up a lot with my voice and actions regarding that. And I have strong feelings about a lot of issues. Human rights, especially female rights, neglected and abused children, foster children....you get the picture.

The moderator's job is a difficult position. And they get paid nothing. You can't please everyone. There is no 100% win-win here. But what was chosen was what the moderator thought was best. And that is all we can ask of the moderator.


Personally, I side with "emotional shelter" on this one. Of course free speech is king, except when it isn't and in this case for me, it isn't. And besides, the comment wasn't forbidden....only moved to a "better" place for all considered, in my humble opinion. While not judging who raised the question, for me being human means we honor those we love by honoring those they loved. And all at the forum I gather "love" Heath ~ if only in our own limited capacities. And we know family was important to him. I wonder a lot of things, for example about Heath and Michelle, but I have to let it go. I will never know the answers to questions that I have and Heath was clear. Privacy was crucially important to him. So to remember that ~ is a way to love him and honor him as well as those who love him in ways we can only tiptoe close to.

So, I say truck on to the moderator. You're doing a wonderful job. And you deserve to know that. I offer my vote of confidence.

Sandra Hammel
Portsmouth, Rhode Island
USA
Heath's One Time Home - Planet Earth

I heard this singer/songwriter, last month here in my hometown, sing this song and for me this one song was worth the price of the ticket:

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Susan Werner sings her song ~ May I Suggest
Uploaded by rockstarwrangler

May I suggest
May I suggest to you
May I suggest this is the best part of your life
May I suggest
This time is blessed for you
This time is blessed and shining almost blinding bright
Just turn your head
And you'll begin to see
The thousand reasons that were just beyond your sight
The reasons why
Why I suggest to you
Why I suggest this is the best part of your life

There is a world
That's been addressed to you
Addressed to you, intended only for your eyes
It's a secret world
Like a treasure chest to you
Of private scenes and brilliant dreams that mesmerize
A tender lover's smile
A tiny baby's hands
The million stars that fill the turning sky at night
And I suggest
Yes, I suggest to you
Yes, I suggest this is the best part of your life

There is a hope
That's been expressed in you
The hope of seven generations, maybe more
And this is the faith
That they invest in you
It's that you'll do one better than was done before
Inside you know
Inside you understand
Inside you know what's yours to finally set right
And I suggest
And I suggest to you
And I suggest this is the best part of your life

This is a song
Comes from the west to you
Comes from the west, comes from the slowly setting sun
This is a song
With a request of you
To see how very short the endless days will run
And when they're gone
And when the dark descends
Oh we'd give anything for one more hour of light

And I suggest this is the best part of your life

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Home

By Jonathan Hammel

There once was a place,

between the crack of dawn and the twilight of sunsets.

The place that flowed peacefully among the lilac bushes
The place where the morning dews

slipped from their high perches on the grass
The place where we begin the talk of all

The place scented with the sweet smell of the morning air
The place scented with the sweet need of sleep at night
The place where all becomes one and one becomes all

Silence is the only respectable reaction to there
Absorb the sunset, the dawn and the life that makes this place breathe
Breathe in the scent of the morning and the green of the evening.

Though I found my son's poem on his Facebook this past week, he told me today he wrote this a few years ago, when he was in high school. He gave me his "okay" that I could post it here.

"AND AFTER ALL THE LOVES OF MY LIFE - YOU'LL STILL BE THE ONE" FOR HEATH LEDGER

Heath drew his last breath somewhere between January 21and 22, 2008 - two years ago this week. In tribute and memoriam to Heath....

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Uploaded by MrArthuur24

Candles can be lit here for Heath

Click the post title to go to the support site for much information and interviews
about The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

From someone who knows about Heath's final movie
The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus
I think the time has come for US Dr. Parnassus fans to be prepared for the film to disappear from theaters. I spent the afternoon talking to experts in the industry and all are in agreement that due the nearly non-existent publicity that SPC has pretty much doomed the film outside NYC and LA. I can't say this clearly enough, if the film opened in your city on January 8, there is a good chance it will be gone this week and you will not be able to see it after about mid-week. So if you want to see it and it didn't just open in your city yesterday, and if you are not in NYC or LA, you may want to see the movie tonight or tomorrow or you may not get to see it in your city. However, if you are in the USA and you've already seen it, please go see it again tomorrow or tonight! Please. Help us keep it in US theaters. Please everyone, get on the support site and comment help us keep this movie in the theaters by helping us keep it in the public eye for the USA or it is going to be gone. It's that simple.

... you may want to think about going to see the film tomorrow or you may well miss your chance. I'm not trying to upset you and I can't guarantee that it will be gone from your theater, but it's a good chance because if I remember correctly it opened in your city on the 8th. This isn't like a big movie, at best it will stay in theaters a few weeks but with things going badly like they are it will close much sooner. You can ask miniangel, we saw it happen to Candy which played in New York City for only 3 days and only played in 7 theaters in the whole USA. I don't want to see you disappointed.

My comment
I am so sad that Dr Parnassus hasn't gotten publicity in the USA. I have seen no TV advertisement of the movie at all. By driving 50 miles each way, I have seen the movie 5 times, two of which were today, when I took my 19 year old neighbor to see it with me. She loved it. I am, also, even more sad that the movie is likely to leave our USA theatres this Thursday, January 21, 2010. I say more sad because somewhere between January 21 and January 22, 2008, Heath drew his last breath on the earth. And this makes it even more painful for those of us who thoroughly admire and love Heath, that the final movie is likely closing on his death two year anniversary. What is Sony Classics Pictures thinking, here? I know the answer, but sincerely, wish this movie didn't have to come to a close for us here in the USA on his death anniversary date.

Sandra

MacArthur Park

by Jimmy Webb

Lyrics

Spring was never waiting for us, girl
It ran one step ahead
As we followed in the dance
Between the parted pages and were pressed,
In love's hot, fevered iron
Like a striped pair of pants

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down...
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again
Oh, no!

I recall the yellow cotton dress
Foaming like a wave
On the ground around your knees
The birds, like tender babies in your hands
And the old men playing checkers by the trees

There will be another song for me
For I will sing it
There will be another dream for me
Someone will bring it
I will drink the wine while it is warm
And never let you catch me looking at the sun
And after all the loves of my life
After all the loves of my life
You'll still be the one.

I will take my life into my hands and I will use it
I will win the worship in their eyes and I will lose it
I will have the things that I desire
And my passion flow like rivers through the sky.
And after all the loves of my life
After all the loves of my life
I'll be thinking of you
And wondering why.

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down...
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again
Oh, no!
Oh, no
No, no
Oh NO!!

THOUGH MY DAD DIED HE LIVES ON

Dad in his thirties, coaching basketball practice
Dad, my brother and me at Lake Michigan's beach

An Indiana winter scence at the lake that dad made
Dad and me. He's the cute one : )

A summer scene of the same lake
Both of my parents had the same nickname in high school. They were Mick and Mick.

Reflection on the lake

Dad, my younger sister, my older brother and that's me with the barefoot

Dad, as coach

and again
Dad was just thrown in the shower by the team in this picture. Keith, the player beside him came to dad's funeral and spoke very lovingly about him.

By brother and me

Dad at home
Dad & I

That looks like an onery look on his face. Probably was.

April 9, 1944, the day my parents married.

He loved his rock business. He took his "rock talk" to the schools to share his knowledge.
Here he is in his Clear Creek Rock Shop with my son.

Dad at my house in Rhode Island
First Grandson, who is now 27 years old.
Loved being Grandpa.

Me with the lake that dad made behind me.

My dad, brother and me.
I'm sure I just got scolded, it's written on my face.
Dad, my brother and me in Huntington, Indiana, where both of my parents grew up
and where I was born. Home of Dan Quayle's Library. Really...
Okay, so I'm the ONLY democrat in my family, but I took this picture when I was home in May to prove it to you... Bush the father chose Quayle and Bush the son choice Cheney...hmmm...not too good at selecting vices

Dad at home

Dad & my son, Jonathan, out on his man-made lake

Dad & my son by the lake

Dad
Here he is in September 2005
Dad's family. He's the one holding the ball.

Dad's oldest brother, the physicist, Dad in the middle,
Dad's other older brother, the artist and farmer

Dad's Mother and who I inherited my red hair from

TRUTH NEVER DIES

At my dad’s funeral, I began with these words:

“The one thing about my dad that makes him special to me was and will continue to be his SPIRIT. My dad is my hero. He made it a better world…”

I am grateful for the time that I had with my Dad a year ago during father’s day week, when I flew to Indiana to see him. It was the last father’s day that he was alive. I sang hymns to him in his little room. Sometimes, he sang. He initiated conversation one day. I was told that he wouldn’t recognize me by my sister who lives in Indiana. I was told by my mother that he didn’t show happiness any more. None of this proved to be true. When I walked down the hall of the Alzheimer residents’ floor, I spotted him standing 30 to 40 feet away. He lifted his arm toward me and said my name “Sandy”. He immediately wanted to leave the building. Later I found out why. He wanted to go home.

When father’s day came, I went to visit dad. I told him it was Father’s Day and that he was my dad. Neither my brother, nor my sister visited dad on that day. I spent a lot of time with dad that week which I found out later upset my mother. Dad expected mom to spend more time with him and mom didn’t like that. I upset her life. That is reason enough to be condemned in my family.

The Hammel Reunion - one that dad was present for

Because I wanted to have more time with my father, the first week of August 2006, I flew back to Indiana for dad’s birthday which coincided with the annual Hammel family reunion. Mom was not happy with me for coming. The day after dad’s 82nd birthday, I took him out for a car ride. This was the last time I was allowed the freedom to take him out. He was worried the whole ride that he would get in trouble with mom for going out. Even so, his whole body language changed completely when he saw where we were – at the lake and house that he had built. During this trip out, he made it clear that he felt that since it was his family reunion that he should get to go. It made sense to me. But what also made sense, was his worrying about mom’s power over him at this time in his life. The next evening dad asked mom in front of me if she was going to the Hammel Reunion. For someone who I was told couldn’t remember things, he remembered this for over 24 hours. She answered him, “No, and you’re not either.” She was mad at me. I said “He wants to go, why shouldn’t that matter?” The next morning I received a phone call telling me that I was no longer to take dad out for car rides. And specifically, that Mom forbid me to take him to his family reunion. The nurse called me to tell me this information. That evening when my dad’s sister and I went to visit dad after the reunion, dad was scared the whole time that mom would show up. This woman badly affected this man, but blamed me for his reaction. None of this looked like love to me.

My father still had desires, wishes and expressed them. But he was denied by his wife, my mother to have any say in his life. She was in total control. This saddens me even now after his death. She won this one. But overall, Dad was the ultimate winner in how he lived out his entire life to the last breath.

How do I put into words in one blog post, a lifetime with my dad? That is not possible to do. That, however, has never stopped me from making an effort before.

My family is nothing like the one that I thought I had. Turns out that pretending played a big part in what my family is. The family that I was supposed to believe that we were was a Christian-loving, compassionate and kind family. Except for my father, in the end, none of that is true. My mother has shown herself to be someone that I don’t know. But at least, now I know. There is some positive value in that knowledge.

Until, my dad got a supposed diagnosis of Alzheimer’s Disease, I had to take dad on mom’s terms. On the phone, she controlled the conversation when they both were on the phone. Then over the last several years, she just acted like he didn’t exist at all. I had to press her to put him on the phone. When he was on the phone, she criticized him for breathing too hard or being wrong about whatever he did try to say to me. I overlooked much of her behavior. But it became so blatant last summer, that I had no choice but to see her for what behavior she exhibited for all to see.

My father always recognized me. He always was able to communicate with me. Yes, there were days that he couldn’t retrieve words that he was looking for, but none of that mattered to me. It was all the more reason to love him and be patient with him. I personally don’t believe that he had AD, but some other form of dementia. An AD diagnosis cannot be definitively confirmed unless a brain autopsy is done after death. Having this diagnosis appeared necessary for my mother’s sake. It allowed her to put him away and feel justified. My father pleaded with his wife, my mother, to allow him to live at home. In front of me, she told the doctor last August that she and he had been fighting every day before she put him in the “home”.

The saddest thing about my dad’s dying May of this year is that he wasn’t truly loved by the woman that he emotionally demonstrated his love for until he died. For the last decade she increasingly and more boldly humiliated him. She put him down in front of all to witness. She revealed to me that she is not the person she pretended to be all these years. She still wants me to believe that she is. But to do that, I would have to deny myself a promise that I made to myself: I will live in truth. Maya Angelou says “when someone shows you who they are, believe her/him.”

That is where I am with the people who are in my family. Even with impaired mental retrieval, my dad had emotional integrity to the end of his mortal life. What a betrayal of trust he lived through. If there is a heaven, I hope he gets extra credit for this enduring skill that he exhibited.

It is difficult beyond reason to accept that your mother lacks total empathy and has never found out who she really is. I feel my mother proves denial of true feelings only creates a fiend. My mother wants me to believe that what she says is true. Instead I believe what she behaves.

My whole adult life I have been the “sinner” or the “black sheep” of the family. For a long, long time I struggled trying to gain what I thought was my parents’ approval and love. But, now I know it was my mother that was the hold out. I wanted to be known for the woman that I had become. I wanted to be understood by my mother. Now, I surrender. I don’t want her approval anymore. I live fully without her understanding the full human being that I am. It is her loss more than it is mine. As much as I would adore having a mother’s love in this way, I know a person who doesn’t know herself or love herself has no way of giving this to someone else. This is sad. But this is true. I can live with truth even when it is sad.

In spite of my family’s stamp of disapproval of how I live my life, or how they think I live my life, I have found my real self. I love my life. And after trying for the last time to communicate with my mother on August 7, 2006, I leave her with her life and I was able to step into my life more freely than ever before. I have never been happier. My family looks like some scripted movie to me. It is not a family that I would want to live in. There is not one person in my family that I see anything that I would want to be. Except for one. Dad. I would never have dreamed my family would turn out to be the way it is. But it is.

Dad died Thursday, May 10, 2007 at 10:05 a.m. May 10th is the same day that his mother died.

Dad at his parents' grave stone September 2005

He was 82 years, 10 months old. The only member in my family who had called to tell me about dad’s expected death was my brother, who lives in Maui. The two who live in Indiana, my mom and my sister, had never contacted me over the last years about dad. Not to tell me he was leaving home to live in this institution. Not that he had fallen after being hit by a car. Not that he was near death. On Wednesday, May 9, 2007, my brother called me to let me know that the next morning he was going to arrange to have dad hear his voice. We were both going to Indiana the next week, but in case dad didn’t survive that long, we wanted speak to dad, although he himself couldn’t speak anymore. The next day, Greg called me at 9:00 a.m. to update me.

My dad gave me what I needed to believe. Where mom had let me down in so many ways, Dad came through. He demonstrated how to live in truth and integrity even at the end. My dad was real. He was never pretentious. Those who knew my dad admired him. The middle of five children, born August 3, 1924, he was the only one in his high school class of 1943, to be classified 4F for the military during World War II. He was however recruited out of high school, by Curly Lambeau, the coach of the Green Bay Packers.

My father’s favorite sport to play was football although he ran track and played basketball. And he did all of this with his own dad’s disapproval, initially.

This is what they wore. This is the only picture I have - it's high school. No Green Bay Packers picture, just a Packer-Redskins program, a letter from Curly Lambeau and newspaper clippings with his name praised a lot.

My dad was very proud of his oldest brother, now deceased, Harold Theodore Hammel, a world-known physicist. This is uncle Ted's back side of his grave stone:

Just before Ted died he had proven a new theory. His name was nominted for a Nobel Peace Prize, but you cannot be awarded posthumously.

I visited my dad's other older brother, Jerald, in the early evening of the day of my dad’s funeral. He told me “Your dad got more beatings than all of the rest of us put together”. Dad got some of those beatings on the behalf of other’s actions. His mother put salve on his wounds. My dad’s family was far from well-to-do. His own father a few days prior to finishing seventh grade was sent to work and live on a farm for room and board. He told my father he cried himself to bed every night.

My dad built the three family houses that I lived in as I grew up. The first one I was born in. The last one was built on a lake he created from a natural spring where a corn field had been. During college, he started his own wood floor refinishing business that developed into contracts doing the basketball courts at Notre Dame University, Indiana and Purdue Universities. He taught and coached basketball at two high schools with acclaimed success. But to him, the most important reason for coaching was the mentoring that it allowed him to do. The local newspaper sportswriter told me that Bobby Knight respected my dad’s coaching and came to recruit players from dad’s teams.

For me, I remember the fact that dad’s players rules included strict rules about not dating – so it seems that might have had some bearing on the fact not one player ever asked me out for a date.

I was raised by imposing parents. The leather belt was used frequently on me and my brother. Both of my parents gave us “lickings”. With dad however, I remember the talks afterwards - they were confusing. He would sit on the edge of my bed with me after the blistering cracks on the skin and say that “he did it because he loved me and that it hurt him more than it hurt me”. Well, he was wrong on that.

By the time I grew into myself as an adult, I knew my father had the heart of a teddy bear. It is not okay to whip your children. I was able to see through that and see him for who he was at heart, later in my life. My dad was a compassionate man. He made it a practice to not criticize people in general. He showed his sensitive nature by how he chose his words and articulated his thoughts. He admired spunk. He had spunk himself. He never pretended to be anything that he wasn’t.

Truth for me means no pretense. Being genuine. Real. Dad gave me the gift of personifying these attributes from a member of my family.

The newspaper sportswriter spoke at my dad’s funeral, “The one thing that I liked about Mark was his intensity. He loved to win.”

I am intense. I love being passionate about my passions, about my life. And now I can own this trait about myself and see that it comes from dad.

Although it appears that dad got beat by life – that is not true. He lived his life to the last breath on his terms. He was forced to live where he didn’t want to live. He wanted to live at home. But he refused to draw his last breath until he wanted to.

This is just the kind of music my dad loved…..

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Uploaded by yosh95wilde

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My dad's older brother, Jerald died while reading his mail on his bed May 19, 2007. I was the last one to see him face to face, although his children had talked to him on the phone. My dad is survived now by their only sister, who is a gifted pianist. My uncle had mailed me some photographs that I had left at his house. They arrived in my mailbox after he passed away. His daughter told me that he wanted me to have a picture that he had drawn of me. I feel blessed that I decided to go out to visit Jed the day of my dad's funeral.

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The Day My Dad Died I Was On the Phone With Him

When I called, Marcia, a nurse picked up the phone. She said dad’s "pulse is irregular, there are crackles in his lungs, he is non-responsive today, he moaned yesterday when I turned him over".

Below is what I said on the phone call to my dad. He took his last breath at the end of the phone call.

“Hello, dad, this is Sandy from Rhode Island. I love you, dad. I love you so very much. I wish I was there. I would hug you and kiss you. I’m going to sing you one verse of

“The Old Rugged Cross”.

On a hill, far away, stood an old rugged cross,

The emblem of suffering and shame,

But I know that old cross, the dearest and best,

For a world of lost sinners was slain,

So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross

Where trophies at last I lay down

I will cling to the old rugged cross

And exchange it some day for a crown.”

I’m coming to Indiana in 6 days, but if you go to heaven before that, just know I’ll see you up in heaven and I’ll hug you and kiss you in heaven. I love you, dad. Can you squeeze Marcia’s hand to say you love me? I love you, dad. Bye

Following this in a couple of seconds, Marcia came on the phone and said:

Sandy, he blinked his eye

I think he’s very close

I think it helped

I’m holding his hand

It’s amazing

He’s waited for you

Beautiful…beautiful

You know, I think he’s gone

I’ve never seen anything like it…..hhhh.

It’s just amazing

I said, what do you mean…

Reply: You and the connection

He waited for you

The healing

He blinked – he doesn’t do that.

I said in response, he was resourceful to the end. He didn't have the strength to squeeze your hand, so he came up with something else.

She responded, How can anyone not believe?

She said, I don’t have my stethoscope, but I think he’s gone

I said, would you get your stethoscope?

She replied: I will. I’ll be right back.

Back, she says: I think he’s gone

I said: Will you touch his hand or arm?

She answered: I touched his forehead

She asked me: Will you be calling Greg?

I said: Yes.

I asked Marcia to stay with me on the telephone. She did.

This was a gift that he gave to me. This was a blessing. I knew it right then.

I shared this story at the funeral service and the singing of “The Old Rugged Cross”.

“Let the world stop turning,

Let the world stop burning,

Let them tell me love’s not worth going through

If it all falls apart

I will know deep in my heart

The only dream that mattered had come true

In This Life I was loved by you.”

From the song “In This Life” sung by Bette Midler

When I went to thank Marcia for all that she had done for my dad, I asked her which eye dad winked with and she said the one near the wall, the left one. I can't even make my left eye wink by itself. But he could. I know he understood everything I said to him. He found a way to say he loved me when I asked. Then...Marcia said she saw him take his last breath. She said she has never seen anyone go like dad, immediately following an exchange. What a gift he gave to me. Such a blessing. Now, he has peace that he so deserved and needed.

What a really cool man he was and continues to be in my life.
A wink has a whole new meaning for me now.

Dad liked Tennesee Ernie Ford, Here he is singin”16 Tons”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nmTgnpzPS64

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www.savedarfur.org

A democracy needs "We the People" to make it work.

In honor of my father I continue to do my political activist work.
He lived full-out. That's what I intend to do.

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I'm open to whatever life sends my way.
Just like truth, hope never dies.
I don't know what is in store for my family.
But I remain ready to welcome any goodness and truth.