November 12, 2013, Journal entry

I am an abomination in the eyes of the church leadership that once endorsed me as a pastor in their denomination. When I let the District President, the equivalent of a bishop in other church bodies, know that I was about to take estrogen and begin transition from male to female, he began the process of getting me out of the ministry.
The Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod has long believed in the natural and divinely ordained supremacy of males. Although the Bible never declares men to be better than women, the actions of the men recorded therein certainly affirm a patriarchal society. The Hebrews throughout their recorded history have suppressed the women in their midst. Feminine traits are used as descriptors for traitors and cowards. Women are most always temptresses or the source of demonic worship.
So even though the Bible never mentions transsexual or transgendered individuals, male to female trans-people weaken the idea of male dominance and value. They attack the supremacy of male identity by simply existing. A transsexual pastor would slam all these patriarchal themes against the wall like the baby skulls slain by King Herod's men. My existence was and is a threat to the whole image of a male dominated church.
The bishop argued before my brothers in the Wyoming District ministerial assembly without mentioning any scripture. He simply said I was unfit for ministry because I would be taking estrogen, a female hormone. He falsely stated that I wanted to leave the church. Of course I was not invited to these meetings held by my peers. Not once was my opinion asked. Not one of my brother wanted to know. I was and still am an abomination in their minds.
I was informed that I could attend worship in synod's congregations, but I must not go anywhere near the congregations I had served as pastor. I was told to stay away from my "they could be defiled" family. Soon the pastors withdrew even the permission to sit at the back of any congregation. A former pastor in skirts was distracting, and an encouragement for others to sin.
I was declared unchristian and refused communion or forgiveness in LCMS churches. I was not defrocked for wearing a frock, but I was told that I was not welcome. Not once was I afforded the right to speak, not once tried as a heretic, or a renegade. "just leave" was the kindest of the words hurled at me. These men were so afraid. 

November 13, 2013 Journal

Once when I was older, much older than today, sorry Beatles, I could classify and simplify everything I knew or thought I knew. Now that I am younger, I know no such thing, as everything is unique and completely marvelously complex in itself. There are no valid classifications except as encapsulations of our own misunderstandings. The only simple thing is my ignorance. Unlike the Apostle Paul, I will never set aside childish things. For in the wonder of play is true understanding discovered. I breathe deep and once again taste cabbage, candy and dirt anew.
I live in a one bedroom apartment on the outer border of Old Las Cruces, in an area of the flood arroyo named after the goats once kept here. El Camino Real sways aside to pass its forgotten wagons safely across the washed sands. It is all the world I need at the moment.
I have roamed the country and parts of the world from before I can remember. When I was ten, I was born again in a not-Christian revival sense, but as a newborn child, with an empty, wiped slate waiting for the record of life to be chalked on it. I had been in the mid-Pacific, on the Hawaiian Islands, Alaska, California, Minnesota, Nebraska, and North Dakota before then and in Florida, too. But I do not remember.
After the ten years I remember California, South Dakota, Montana, Idaho, New Mexico, Texas, Quebec, Ontario, Manitoba, British Columbia, North Dakota, Washington, Kansas, Illinois, Colorado, Iowa, Indiana, Wyoming, Utah, New York, Virginia, West Virginia and Ohio. I seen Korea and bits of Burma and Thailand. A piece of desert village is all the world I need today.
Remembering the places I can remember fills my heart and my eyes so they spill over. The is sadness and great joy in the places and in me. Tears fall.
When I was much smaller, my senses were sharp, my mind a photographic lens and microphone to capture colors, sounds and smells. I forgot nothing and could compare every fish and bird with every fish and bird I had so far seen. I knew the tone, the range of every voice and planes of every face. I did not have to classify or categorize. Everything was always in reach and closer even than that really. An extra small scale on a lateral line, a tangle along the barb of the eleventh pinion feather in a left wing; I saw the differences, small and large in my Daddy's creation. I rejoiced in the differences and basked in the similarities. I was sister to the world.
But predators in the human family were afraid of my memory so they tied me down and erased it. They killed the girl that held the world in her hands. I remember tiny bits of her memories, a few stayed with me when I was reborn at ten. I knew just enough to be afraid of every human. I grew up as quickly as I could, using categories and I learned my place.
For years I worked at being, reaching and seeking connection with others, I learned the blues of being alone. But after years, decades, I grew younger. I do not have that young girl's memories. I cannot compare two crows in real time, three coins, and a pear instantly within my mind. But I compare them slowly until my heart says, these are family. I am so much younger now.

Friday, September 13, 2013

Went to the clinic in Bastion, the Bland County Clinic. They told me yesterday afternoon to get medication to treat my kidney infection. I will next Wednesday, when I have some money. Jaclyn  (a closer spelling) was prescribed for and referred to the Mount Rogers Clinic. Kim has blown up repeatedly and then excuses it saying she has a bad tummy. I walk away until she cools down. I do not think she is taking her veteran prescribed medications. Now, I am back and I do not wish to be.
The sun is rising, it is about 7:30, and I am designing an earthen home plan. I am emotionally numb. A numbness triggered by homeless, hopeless stress, no doubt. A normal person would be contacting the social welfare folks. The atmosphere in this house is explosive.
The sun has now gone behind clouds as rain settles its bottom on this earth nest. The leaves are turning colors, so not turning over to accept the sky's bountiful wetness. Thus far the geese of Point Pleasant and the trees of Draper Valley are in agreement about an early winter.
Kim will not pay her rent or her bills (a given) so I must find another place to live and soon. I will call my children in the afternoon and elicit  their advice. I propose getting an assisted apartment for the winter; I may apply for food stamps. I called social services and left a message.

September 12, 2013, Thursday.

I have left the river, mostly because I scared myself to death traveling without control through barge staging areas. Hoping this will be a short hiatus. I write this before dawn Jackie is back even though Kim beat her a week ago, Kim is out of the hospital and I took her to Conover, NC yesterday to fetch Jackie home. Eduardo, the dog is going to be fixed, because he ran away about a 1/4 mile chasing the scent of a woman doggy. The little boy pup has turned into an adolescent and a very horney one at that.
I scored a Virginia roadmap coming out of NC and also gave one to Kim. It will not do her a bit of good, for she will not read it. She will still get lost, but she might look at it someday.
She went to work at 4:30am this morning and is expected home at 12:30. I will be making an appointment with the Bland Clinic for myself (kidney infection) and for Jackie for this afternoon.  The pups are still resting after being left alone most of yesterday. We''l get a mower this afternoon to whack the grass. It is terribly shaggy. 

November 10, 2013, Afternoon

I once knew a little girl and she knew me. She knew me better because she created me, dressed me up and brought me out when the abuse or the beatings were too horrible to bear on her own. When that happened we would stand together even if we were lying down on the floor with nails spiked through our shared hands and feet. Together, we would endure, assuring each other that this or that pain must come to an end.
I know I was just a small part of her. More like a walking talking dog or doll than a truly-human, human. She crated me when the girls and boys of the Baluugah people shunned her. Their mothers and fathers, but mainly their grandmothers told them not to talk with the Bad Magic child anymore.
The same boys and girls had taught her to swim in the ocean, to swim in the atoll's shrinking waters, to know the names of the fish, the lizards and the birds. Their mothers had nursed her when her own mother was busy doing atomic testing work. The children had listened as she grew and learned that each bird and fish was unique, different from all other birds and fish. She said all things are in families much alike, but not exactly alike. No thing was exactly like another thing, as each person is not its sister or its brother.
She told them this and she told them the plans being made by her mother and the men wearing the navy and army uniforms. She told them the atoll would become a new sun burning, but only burning for a moment, as the sand turned to glass, the air to fire and the sea to a boiling, waving froth.
Nothing will live here, she said. The children told their mothers and fathers. The old people listened to them. When her mother came and asked them to remain on the atoll, converting it into an island in the next year, they politely refused The grandmothers repeated the little girl's stories.
Soon, the girl's mother and the sailors working with her sent word of this refusal to the offices on Oahu and in San Francisco. They sent these messages in code, but the reply came in clear, "Isolate the child. No one may speak with him."
The girl's mother told the grandmothers that the Bad Magic stories were not true. The child was filled with bad magic. A plane would be coming to take the child away. They should tell their grandchildren not to speak with the girl.
No one listened to her, so the little girl made me and spoke to me in her mind. She split a small sliver of herself, dressed me and hugged me like a real child. It wasn't all together horrible, not with a friend.
On October 22, 1951, a Gooney Bird set down on newly laid metal panels. The little girl, Dawn, her mother and father and two armed MP's boarded and were flown to Hawaii. I was along, but unseen. I don't remember the journey. I don't remember much of our life together. When the decision was made to kill us, I suffered severe brain damage. I lost almost all of our memories.
Most of the story I will be telling you, came to me from a Central Intelligence operative, who worked with us in her cover role as a military nurse.

June, 2013 Can't Recall the Date

When we come from the womb into the world we are already the chosen, the blessed by God. We are given lives which most of the universe will never experience. We have been chosen to live in this world for as long as God gives us power to live. We have been chosen to see the universe dancing and to dance along with it.
Still, some people feel no blessing and chose to hold tightly to a branch blowing in the wind or to a piece of land hoping to own it. Sharing in the commons is not their way, for they are afraid they will not get a share. Afraid, they become thieves, stealing from universe thy put up fences and hire guards to defend them.
But no place is new. All places have been crossed by animals and men. Women have given birth on each lot, each rock and chunk of beach. All places have been owned and then not owned, and may be owned again. Ownership is a fleeting figment, supported by a few today and none tomorrow.
I see in Thailand a partial spurring of ownership, a partial glimpse of the abandonment of ownership and government that is coming to the USA. When too few people hold the keys to the common land, those keys become nothing. Folk will simply tear down the walls, whether they be in New York, Berlin or China.
I gave up owning some time ago. I walk with minimal baggage. A sharp knife, strong string and a few rat/ mouse traps give me protean. Steel and flint, a lighter, and a hand axe let me cook. A glass, a cup, a plate allow portioning of my dinner. A poncho, a space blanket and a bit of coffee, for sleeping and waking.
If I lose these, it does not matter. I can walk naked in the world, or pick up a shard of glass to restart a new civilization.

August 15, 2013, Thursday

Only one boater has come by and it is now 6:20am The water is nice and warm on the surface and for a foot down. Good bath water, thanks for letting me find a razor yesterday. I feel real self-conscious as blonde hairs start to cover my face.
I've planned how to install a new floor in the cabin cruiser. Scott talked about renewing the license on it and will bring it to the parking lot so I can work on it. I could troll along to Huntington and then get a battery and another solar array to charge it. Hip-hip-hurrah!
Madeline is doing some kind of drug, maybe I can get her to come floating. Don't know that she will but until... I'll ask her.
Doc Greenlee, who suggested I get a gun, came by to go fishing. He brought me a Stephen King book, "Under the Dome." Doc said he killed a man for shooting his dog back in 1985. He did 17 years for manslaughter. Not a trusting soul.
Jeremy and Joshua, two boys, came by to fish from the boat dock. I last saw them on the river bank as I floated along. They live about 3 miles from the launch and ride their bikes down.
Kathy and her daughter came to go boating. The daughter has left the Kucinich gubernatorial campaign and plans on teaching somewhere in Texas. Wispy, mares' tales very high up as evening comes.
Good night

August 14, 2013 Wednesday

Cool weather and dry. The water level is falling fast. Down two feet from yesterday, maybe a bit more. I awoke in the night to put on more clothing. Hey, babe, its still August. A few people have told me Fall is coming quickly, though I figure at least 5 more weeks. They might be right, but the geese say 5 more weeks before they even think about flying south.
Turtles are sunning themselves on stumps and leaning branches. The lunch in the parking lot folks are parked in the shade. CSX train crew going by slowly and I'll be sitting here, reading a Louis L'Amour book in about a minute.
I walked to the hardware store and to Foodland Market. I have decided to fix the cabin cruiser's flooring and to see if I can repair the stern to hold a gasoline motor. I might be able to use the cruiser to pull the raft down the Mississippi, or at least to it.
On the way back I peed in my pants, and then embarrassed myself even more because a man and his mother were inspecting my boat as I returned. I walked right into the river with my face as red as a strawberry. It is 4pm and the water has gone down another foot. Made supper with fresh garlic and new potatoes. I had a few chocolate chip cookies for desert. Thanks for the day.
Good night, daddy. 

Memorial Day, 2014 Another Boat Float.

As many of you know I came up with the idea for open lattice pontoons filled with plastic bottles for flotation while I was waiting for a boat registration at Point Pleasant, West Virginia. That's a friendly but not very nice place where the Kanawha and Ohio Rivers join. There honest George Washington surveyed some land and they sold his share without asking the natives who had lived there for years. When they objected to this spurious deal, Anglo-militia men shot them. This is considered by some to be the first battle of the Revolutionary War. A town hero claimed allegiance to a conspiracy to steal land from Spain and then turned against his friends and ratted them out to the Jefferson Administration. Another lie brought temporary fame and then notoriety to the town in the 1900's. Some teens, avoiding righteous grounding after not getting home by their curfew, invented the story of the Moth Man. When the almost new Silver Bridge collapsed and killed about a hundred people, the Moth Man was elevated to prominence as a prophet of coming doom. Certainly a home to cruel innovations.
But neat inventions and innovation have come from here as well. The Indians invented the idea of a river monster, carved in effigy and left on the river banks to discourage rival tribes. Weirs were built out from the land to force the river into deep channels to improve river trade and all sorts of improvements to explosives were developed for the Civil and World wars.
Anyway here are some adaptations to the open lattice float idea.
1.  Wire and lath fencing can be secured to 2 by something lumber and then filled with bottles. A quick and cheap method.
2.  Cyclone fencing can be secured to wood and then filled with bottles. A quick, stronger and still pretty cheap method.
3.  Tubing can be bent into half hoops and used to support fencing, chicken wire, or branches. These can be filled with bottles.
4.  50 or 100 pound onion sacks can be filled with plastic bottles and secured to the underside of a raft platform.
 Have a good time, building your home. 

Surprising Life Surprising Me

The other day I brought home two young people from the street. I fed them and began showing them how to cook and how to shop for groceries cheaply. We (they did all the cooking) made dinner for our neighbors Sunday evening. Everyone said they had a good time and the kids did a good job cooking roast, potatoes, vegetables, coleslaw and cake. I even showed Shay ho to make her own fresh salad dressings.
Today one of our neighbors called her sister, who offered both Joshua and Shay a place to stay and jobs in La Mesa, a town about 10 miles to the northwest. They are thrilled. This afternoon they will be going over to Grace's house, she's another neighbor to watch movies and to eat popcorn.
Way to go world, way to go Daddy.

August 13, 2013, Tuesday

Rained so hard this morning, I slept in until 7am. Started eating peaches and packing my laundry for washing. It will be good to get the river stains out of these things. Good morning.
Washed my clothes at the homeless shelter until 11am and then walked everything back to the boat. I hung everything up and put on some mostly clean clothes and walked back to the town library.
A girl named Madeline and her friend, a couple with a man named Don, came to visit and to take photos of the Conestoga Float Raft as a news article called it. These folk work various shifts at McDonald's. Dan and Madeline were interested in how I built this. I think Madeline may be a young and questioning lesbian. I'' stop at McD's tomorrow and ask her.
Good night Lord. Good night, father.

Monday, Aug 13, 2013

Thank you for another day filled with many givers.
Carol and her mother, Carol brought me a hamburger and fries. The Wood's family gave me a breakfast for dinner. Later Mr. Woods brought me an emergency kit and a box of MRE's.
The shelter people, especially Nikki, invited me to do my laundry there. I will tomorrow. The river water level is dropping and Loren at the Charleston DMV office said my registration is in the mail and should be coming. However registering the StarCraft cabin cruiser could take two more weeks. I may wait to register it in the winter.
Thank you, father.

August 11, 2013, Sunday

Another tournament gathered and went from 5am to 6. The water which has been up high and covering a lot of grass receded during the night, stranding a few shad behind tall weeds. Did some laundry and will have breakfast before going to the Methodist church in town.
high humidity for the last two days. At 3pm Scott Cornell who lives in Gallipolis Ferry came and offered me a ride to see an old cabin cruiser. It is fifty years old and in need of loving restoration. He gave me the 21 foot long boat which has been sitting in his father's yard for years. He said he would bring it to me when I am ready to leave Point Pleasant. I will transfer title after I talk to Loren at the DMV tomorrow.
A couple in a pontoon boat lost their dog, so I'm going to bed at midnight.
Good night, father and thank you for the day.

August 10, Saturday, 2013

Up and standing on a dock at 5:30. Many bass boats with huge motors coming in for a tournament. I helped launch all 13 by 6:30. It sprinkled on them as they assembled and departed together. They came back at 3pm.
At 5pm a cat fishing tournament began arriving. They departed in sequence according to numbers they drew from a hat. All gone by 7pm.
As I lay on my porch (the uncovered part of the raft) a shrink, really a psychiatric facility administrator, came by asking some very peculiar questions. I think he was verifying my sanity. When he thought I might be same, he mentioned his girlfriend, Carol, was waiting up in the parking lot inside his car. I went with him to the top of the boat ramp and watched her unlock the car. I introduced myself to her and asked enough questions to verify his (Paul's) story to me. That was a nice amusement for all of us.
Good night, father.

August 9, 2013, Friday at Point Pleasant

Good morning, Daddy. Your day is a wet one. The little cot so kindly given, collapsed and dumped me awake to the swish of rain at 5. It was still dark so I showered in a stronger rainfall and managed to dry off under plastic just before the CSX train came by up on its high trestle. This sprinkling looks like an all day affair, so maybe you can throw some writing skills at me.
Well, that shows I don't know how weather works. 7 am and the rain has stopped/ There is a strong breeze at 40 feet high whipping the branches, yet calm at water level. Just enough light to tickle the trickle charger for the battery.
Cleared up so I walked to a hot shower at 11:30. The shelter ladies regaled me with the story of a 15 year old's attempts to hide the birth of her son from her father and mother early one morning not so long ago. Incredible tale.
A flea market salesman came by wanting to sell or trade a boat and trailer so he could buy an outdoor movie projector. He stayed for coffee and then move on.
Raining, again and again. Good night.

August 8, 2013 Thursday

Walked toward town to McD's for a two biscuit breakfast, a blah cup of coffee and to charge my telephones. Walked back and took the raft for a circle around the launching area. I am getting better at using this yuloh oar. Maybe when the registration comes I'll be practiced and good at using it.
Rained off and on from 10 to 6. I walked in the slack and slept out of the wet. Wrote a bit of "Dancing Shadow" dialogue, hope to be practiced at this someday.
A couple, who had seen a newspaper picture of me, gave me a ride when one of your rains caught me. Oh boy, tomorrow is hot shower day at the transient shelter. No call yet from the McClannahans. I could get old waiting for a registration on this pond.
Water level is up again. Flash flood warnings have been issued until Friday evening. I bought some builder's sight marking twine to use as an emergency fishing line. It and an empty milk jug can catch a big fish when I get large hooks and some heavy leader line. Useful in the bijou down river. My hair is starting to dry. Bugs are washing down the bank into the river. Nice day and a calm evening. Thank you, Jesus. Good nigh,t father. 

August 7, 2013, Wednesday

Lawn crew mowing to finish yesterday's fine job. Third boat out in a few minutes. Bright morning, drinking coffee, enjoying life and myself.
Had a shower, walked to the library, now watching You shower the earth as Tom's bride doing her pre-winter washing.
Jim's brother came by in one of those Mule vehicles. He introduced himself and told me not to go to the gulf in my boat. I told him it would grow a bit before I got there. He asked the Lord to keep me. I know you will.
Good night, father.

August 6, 2013, Tuesday

Up early, ate at McDonald's to check out the weather forecast. Saw the weather channel which is an excuse for reviewing nationwide weather damage, instead of learning about local weather.
Found a pen at the Dollar Store which somehow rang up at 2 dollars. I hope it works well. No registration yet, so I wait and dream of additional construction. I gave Kim $200 because Virginia suspended her license for not paying her parking fines. She needs the license to get to work. Now, I have $140 dollars to live on for the next 15 days. A piece of cake.
May get a flexible glue to make a replacement pair of sandals from tire casings. Maybe... Figured out - brace 45 degree piece lengths for 13 inch spacing or 16 inch on center for 2 inch nominal construction of any wall = 183/8 inches. Hoping I'll remember. I not I'll take a nap and wake with the answer.
Interstate Battery salesman came by. Nice nap with tranquility caused by unrealistic battery dreams Butterflies mating. Geese are plucking their undercoat feathers. I think fall will start here in about six weeks. Mid September here, not further west.
Once I accepted that my life could not follow the path of a normal young woman, there was little disappointment. The surge of testosterone had stretched my height, shoulder width, squared my jawline and broadened my forehead. I ended up with raised bones over my eyes and blonde fur on my face. No girlish dreams of children or a house with a partner for me. The Lord made a mannish path for my walking.
Slipping into a boy role while wearing a boy to man body was outwardly easy. The body had endurance, strength and snap, snap quickness. Even though I had to study the ways of men, I learned quickly. Once I decided I had no choice but to walk like a man in a man's world, there was no more ridicule aimed at me. I passed.
I put aside feminine things to be a man. But in this heart, in this mind an emptiness, not a disappointment grew. Friendships, companionships, a marriage partnership grew, all on a boggy soil of illusion. For me illusion and reality, dream and waking actuality were indivisible. As Solomon said, "Everything is emptiness, a chasing after the wind."
I had settled to sleep when a voice hailed the raft. I dressed and stepped out on the dock to accept a folding cot, two mattress pads and a lawn chair, also a bag of junk food. Jim and his friend, Tim, had dropped by to bless me.
The cot took getting used to, before I could sleep on it, but I slept well. It lets me store things under it. I wrapped one of the pads and put it in the trashcan. Something was inside the pad, chewing.
The food is stored away and breakfast is made. The two gentlemen that fish most mornings from their boat, did.

Let's Float a House

With minimal expense it is possible to begin immediate construction of a 8' by 8' small (tiny) house that pays no taxes, needs no building permit and uses no land to stand. It provides shelter from the storm and lasts longer than a cardboard box hovering over a subway train vent grate in New York or Montreal. Best of all there will never be a home mortgage loan.
One misconception that keeps people from building boats or houseboats is the idea that everything must be watertight. But no boat built before the 20th century was watertight. All builders expected leaks and prepared to deal with them. Another misconception comes from thinking your materials must be new to be strong. Most boats built before 1945 were made with found wire, homemade rivets and whatever else came to hand. Finally, you do not need to buy nails, bolts and other stainless steel fittings. Glues are stronger and longer lasting than metal fasteners.
Most locals have rules about the materials that can be used to make a home. Some of the rules make good sense, others tend to legalize only the type of construction now common. They prohibit innovation simply because there is no long record of successful usage. local governments hate the idea of a house falling down or burning up, injuring people and leaving a heap of junk behind on a building lot. But the water, especially waters that can be used by boats, do not have such rules. The Coast Guard and the state fishing people are going to ask that your boat not sink easily and that the people aboard have approved flotation gear available. The unskilled houseboat builder can achieve both of these things easily.
I started building my home this way. Please don't use this method. I was just learning and there are all sorts of things I changed later on. I just want you to know how easy it was to build my first raft-house-boat, with no experience whatsoever.
I started with 5 sheets of plywood, exterior grade 1/4 inch thick. They cost $32 dollars each in Charleston, WV, actually Hurricane, in 2013. I had the store cut each sheet lengthwise twice to give me three 16 inch wide pieces 8 feet long, per sheet. I glued scrap 2" by 3" pieces of wood along both long edges of four boards. When I removed the rocks holding the scrap in place, I could not pry the scraps from the plywood. I could peel off a layer of plywood, however. So I glued that layer back on to the core again. I am using Weldwood waterproof adhesive.
Next I glued two of the long cut pieces to the first piece edge to edge. I made sure the edges were even and that the scraps had plenty of glue to hold these sides. This gave me a long trough-shape with open ends.
Now I'm changing the original journal entry here, to reflect the changes I made later.  When I first built these pontoons I wanted them to be watertight, even though I should have known better. I glued scrap to the ends of the trough so I could glue One of the cut pieces to the end of each trough, cut the piece flush and then use the remainder to seal the other end of each trough. This proved to be a waste of time. I was going for a tight edge. Later as the wood swelled water leaked slowly into the pontoons. I then spent a whole lot of time and money figuring out how to drain these puppies. None of that work was necessary. I'll tell you why at the end of the journal entry. ---resuming journal as written ---
now, glue three of these pieces together and reinforce them with glued scrap lumber to make strong corners. I used little blocks of wood nailed to some other scraps to make temporary clamps to hold the sides on as I glued up four long troughs. Wedges tapped into place completed the clamps holding.
Then take another piece of the plywood and put it on one end and scribe it to fit. inside the trough. Cut it with a saw. Now, back it with glued scrap lumber and then glue it inside the trough, Repeat for the other end and you have a box open at the top. That's an almost finished pontoon.
I sealed the edges all around each box with window caulking. This did not work well, so I repeated the job with fiberglass tape and epoxy resin. I used the 3M type from Lowes Hardware. When this cured (which took some time because it rained and rained during construction) I painted the whole of each pontoon inside and out with white house paint.
Lay the remaining pieces of plywood across the pontoons to make a deck. I found I had to use heavier plywood eventually. I left a small gap between the deck boards so water would not pool on the deck. It comes in and goes right back out again. A 6' by 8' deck will let a tall person sleep on it diagonally. 8x8 lets two people sleep together.
With the raft in the water I filled it with discarded plastic bottles of all types. I used anything that could hold air inside it. I put tops on the troughs as I filled them with trash plastic. I then had to make a pump to bail them out as the tiny holes let water in. It is much easier to not worry about having watertight joints. Let it leak. The bottles eventually provide all the flotation.
If you would like to stay dry in rain or snow, add a rain cover to your raft. Mine used welded wire cattle panels covered with plastic drop cloths. I stapled one narrow end of the panels to the deck and then lifted the wire up into an inverted letter "U". I covered this with plastic. after I stapled down the other end. It looked like a covered wagon and sheds water very well.
Ramps made from boards, a steering oar and chunks of railroad track flange are all useful additions to my cheap house.
I built the whole raft for $280. That's less than the cost of 7 cartons of cigarettes. The rain shelter, roof and walls together cost 65 dollars more. Ropes for landing and anchoring, solar lawn lights for night-time markers, and a propane burner brought my cost to just under 400 dollars. (I lived and moved down rivers on this boat for 5 months. Thanks really cheap rent.)

May 19th Journal Entry

A warm shower this morning, a dry blanket, and I feel better. But I also feel like a wimp. I had to come home, when I might have been able to wait out the rain for a few more days. I will be thinking about this. I don't want to quit. I want to go on. I will be going back with much less clothing, bedding and cooking gear. The eleven foot raft will have much less room. I will need to make changes in my cooking style, more aluminum foil, more fish, and lots of fruits. No cans, a pot for boilings, peanut butter, vitamins. No underwear bottoms, because I will be peeing while afloat.
Still, I need people. I talk with them, hug and share with them. Can you arrange this, dear? I know the journey is the right thing to do. A test of courage, a trial by fire, perhaps? I know this is right, but I have nothing to prove. You are with me no matter what. You will bless me with joy always, even when I starve and freeze, if my bed is afloat.
I will not know the reason until this journey ends, continues, ends. I will continue. I will end it later. I will think about this more.

May 22nd Journal Entry

The sun shown all day Saturday. The weather was very warm, and not too humid. I talked and talked, first to Bess, then to Nun, with the mailman and with Eric. Lovely day, Thanks!
I strolled to the Lutheran Church in a light, variable breeze this morning. The wind was smooth on my face. Four people without being asked said, I should not be floating for a while. Two worried about flood waters overflowing the Mississippi Valley. One thought the thunderstorm warning with 2 and 3 inch hail should be keeping me at home.
I had a fine time singing and Pastor Steve said I should stay around a while. On the walk home I thought about all that these people had said and about similar remarks made by folks at the Farmers' Market yesterday. Seems you are telling me to wait. I'll hold on at home for another week.
Lots of rain this afternoon. One burst put an inch of water on the ground in less than 20 minutes. Lorrie brought chicken home and the across-the-street neighbors had a dispute going that involved the police. A not boring day.
Good night, Lord.

June 5th, 2013 Journal

Thinking about Susan, the nurse in the Amazing Child story. She needs to be more real. She needs a background and a larger role in this story. She needs a strong motivation for doing her thing. (Also thinking the title needs to be :The Breaking of the Amazing Child)
Maybe Susan could be a behaviorist needing to break the Amazing Child to the current social norms. (See Mayan social dream) AC should be led to be a patriotic boy in her estimation, an active soldier in the cold war. Susan could encourage the domination of Amazing Child by the doctors, and her parents, also recommend the use of drugs. Susan could view AC's mother as a hindrance both emotionally and behaviorally.
Susan is then at war with her own female self. She presents as the uber-bitch, who uses a motherly front to manipulate AC while undermining her rivals.(Sociopathic)
In Susan's view the mother has failed to discipline, failed to secure her own secrets from the child, and has allowed, perhaps encourages AC's deviance. She will recommend the mother's removal from Q clearance work and the use of the father to terrorize the child.
The parents realize Susan or one like her will cover for them if they can kill the child. Susan covers uo there attempt at drowning the child and arranges for the child's isolation.
Father to be torturer while mother returns to atomic test work.

Leaving Dezi's Place Soon

My story character, Sarah Franklin, is leaving her mother, father and sisters behind. She is going west with two mules. She'll get horses as she travels ?? She has publically disgraced the sheriff in front of a congregation church.
On Wednesday morning, I'll be moving on. Reading the map I find I have 400 miles to travel getting to Page, Utah. I don't know if I will stay there. I know not the ends but only the beginnings of the roads you give me.
Dez has setup her situation for a big collapse. She lost her job because she skipped work to drink. Her truck breathalyzer, rent payment, electric and phone bills are all past due. She will financially crash on Wednesday or Thursday. She has already pawned most of her things to buy vodka which she doesn't like to drink, but always drinks too much. She does not want help.
I will leave and let her fall proceed as planned. I will keep in touch with her mom, so I will know how she is doing. I hope she can keep the dog, Dot. I hope her mom will watch out for it.
STORY IDEA walking 400 miles across desert roads in approaching winter-time. I'll be living it.

Hitchhiking Pause in October 2013

Staying at Dezi's place while she goes into rehabilitation. At least, that's Friday's plan. Daddy you know how this will unfold, so I ask you to bless our doings. Be with her and help her always.
I'm off to the optometrist, who made my glasses ten years ago. I did not realize it had been so long since then. When I return, us girls are going to get our hair cut. Dez has a date on Saturday. She's worried that her sexuality is a sin, and is actively looking to like, maybe love, a straight man. If you approve, help her. If not, be gentle in letting her learn to love herself.
We can all relate to Satan and his ambition to become the best he could be, even if it meant surpassing your glory and stomping on your authority. We have high ambitions and unfulfilled dreams. That's what makes doing your will so hard. We think we have to set aside our dreams to be your servants.
Me, I won't go that way. I have a whole life that was moldering away from being a slave or a subservient servant.  I like being the infant upon you lap, with still unlimited potential. Someday you will raise me to unimaginable heights. I'm family, not a servant. I'm family!
Dez was asleep when I went for my eye exam. I came back and fed the child; she's 42 now. She has trouble with her coordination and I am glad her not too well hidden vodka supply is consumed. Perhaps, she'll be fit to visit her grandmother later today.
Thanks for the place to stay and for a task to work on. When this is done, I might learn to draw and paint, just because I would like color in my dirt home in the desert. Thought of simply digging a shelter and designed a water collection method a bit ago. Cattle panels set into a sealed wooden trough. Bottles at the end of a tube spigot for catching dew. the wood can be replaced later with fired brick for a seamless unit like so. (drawing in notebook)
Dancing Shadow she is a practical conservative, willing to try a new way, while still holding to old ways. Especially the idea that aggression must be resisted by embracing aggression. her Power must rise to the situation.
Sarah Franklin is an innovative liberal, embracing the new for its novelty alone. Innovation is the mother of necessity not the inverse.
I want to build the idea of interlocking forces bringing solutions for every dream or imagined need.
Inventions: twisted grass, geared capstans, cross bows, twisted metal rifling in a musket, flowing water wheel laundry. Flux for steel and additives to improve steel edging and hardness. sulfur as a medicine, and a source for sulfuric acid. Trading tea and flint, obsidian, and metals, clear sealants for waterproofing and trona for flux. Non-violence for horses and extreme violence for wolves (real and figurative.) Making use of the prisoners' dilemma and the idea of balance. Symbiotic building, alliance not competition for gain. My version of the string theory.
End the expanding commune with cholera. Sending the girls of to Mormon husbands. Include many kinds of love between the community membership. All may help but none must help. Alcohol's  a passing problem

Street Children in My Apartment

Tuesday at about 11 AM, I was approached by two young people asking me for two dollars. I thought the specific amount was a good tactic. I used that king of specific and also story telling when I panhandled in Montreal.
Anyway, I did not have two dollars and I asked the two to wait for me a few minutes as I ducked into the COAS used bookstore to drop off some of the books I had read. When I came out, they had gone. While I was asking folk at the bus stop where they had gone the kids returned, so I took them to my house.
Shae is 18, going on 13 and Josey is 22, maybe 19. I have been showing them how to shop for food and how to cook it these last few days. I have them sleeping on blankets on the floor and have made an appointment for Shae to see if she might be pregnant. Could be. We'll know this afternoon.
My neighbor, Grace thinks they must be druggies, but I think they are simply overwhelmed by their hormones. I'll update as I learn more. 

Long House and Long Life Longing.

I may end up with lattice type boxes filled with empty plastic bottles to make my whole raft or boat-like house. The only tools needed would be a hammer, a saw and maybe a pair of pliers. I would like to have three rows of pontoon boxes decked and then covered with a fabric of some kind. Water would flow right out of such a house. I would like to finish with a 12' by 32' raft supporting a 10' by 20' house.
So I will. There is in me a streak, a seam of carbide hardness. It is not a hardness against people. For them, all of them, I am as soft as a lily petal. It is a hardness that will not give way to trouble and difficulties. I will always find a way, a trail, a path that pierces trouble and tunnels beyond the difficult. I find solutions to hard problems because I am harder by far.
I will eat that bug, I will walk that slack-wire, I will stand still in a swarm of killer bees. I will hold the dying hand and kiss the contagious brow. I will endure what ever storms weather away all other rock. I will survive. When I was three I began saying, "I will survive." A survived then and I will survive now. I have survived even when some have tried to usher me out of the world before my Daddy called.

Leaky Pontoon Housing for Cheap

Trying a new pen. The package advertising claims it will not bleed through paper. The pen feels OK, a little busy with decorative ledges close to the nib. Hoping my registration numbers arrive today. I've been in Point Pleasant a long while. If this pen works I'll gain 100 pages in this journal at 1 cent per sheet. look at me, I'm cheap. The savings will just about pay on fifth of the pen's cost.
So far I have not been impressed with the effectiveness of a yellow, coiled, wristband I bought yesterday at the hardware store. Its supposed to repel mosquitos. It does not seem to work, but I'll give it a one week trial. I should not bleed to death in a week.
It seems to be a day for trials, trying this pen, this wristband and being tried myself as I await the favor of a governmental notice. Also a breeze trying to become a wind.
The Point Pleasant Launch Park is built atop the old town dump. When the dump filled, it was covered with soil and seeded with grass. The trees surrounding the dump have spread their seedling and it is tre beautique. I like it.
I fell asleep shortly after noon and awoke at 2:30. It is sprinkling now and the breeze did grow to be a light wind. Enough wind to pull one of the knots loose on the raft. Weather overhead is moving Northeast while the wind is shoving North near the water. That means the pressure center is to the south of me and slipping most of the storm past me. Water has fallen 1 and 1/2 feet since last night. Very humid and hot, well over 80 degrees.
Why do male dominated societies restrict women?
It is not part of a natural order. Restricted women are dependent on males who are then forced to expend more effort exploiting other men and women. Such seems socially self-defeating.
(on the backside of the first page, I can see the ink from the front side, but it is not disruptive.)
Busses filled with patrons from the riverboat tour are passing my site. The drivers honk. I don't feel like a tourist attraction. I spent much of my life serving people, while I hid my real self from them. Now, I don't hide and I don't serve. I am. I live for this moment and not for tomorrow's expectations. If I die , I die living this moment also.
Good night. Actually, good noon. I delayed writing for several days. Thinking about simple changes to my raft design so homeless people can have one.
Make a square with scrap wood about 18" by 18" or cut a piece of plywood about that size, now make one more. Now connect the two squares with willows, vines, sticks, strips of wood on three sides to make a cage-like open at the top longish box. 6 or 8 feet long is good. Fill the box with recycled plastic bottles. I recommended the 18x18 dimension because soda bottles at 4 inch diameters and one gallon milk or water jugs at 8" on a side will both fit inside. Any other size bottles will also fit and you are not concerned with a perfect filling of every inch of space. Attach two or three lengths of sturdy wood, 2x2, 2x3 or maybe 2x4's to connect the top of our box and to give a solid base for attaching the decking. A box 8 feet long will provide about 900 pounds of flotation for a raft. Two boxes with an 8 foot deck nailed to the top of them will support 1800 pounds of people and stuff. Now build up the sides from the deck to make a small house. Attaching these rafts together as units lets the raft house become longer or wider as desired. The crate type boxes do not have to be anywhere near watertight, because the flotation is from the plastic bottles.
The deck of planks, plywood or bamboo need not be seamless as water from waves or wakes will drain right out and save you and your feet a drenching in turbulence. This kind of house is mobile, can be poled rowed, motored or even sailed from place to place. Oh, my an ever changing front yard.
If' you decide to anchor somewhere for a longer time, a string of such pontoons linked together with chains or ropes will make a breakwater to control the waves streaming toward your house. Such pontoons will even float nets able to catch or to contain fish. 

Jump Rope Rhythm

Harrison, Harrison, can't you see
The COAS store is bad for me
I Spend my money on your books,
Leaving none to improve my looks.
Mother said you should be afraid,
If I grow up an old, old maid.
She said you would rue the day
My learning scared the boys away.
Harrison dear, I have a plan
I'll ask you to be my man,
So we can live in the COAS store
To read and read forevermore.
-------------------written while walking to choir practice. I pass the Solano Street COAS on the way, and I can't seem to pass up this bookstore.

Walking a New World

From a notebook I started after my friend, Kim, had a breakdown and chased me from her rented house with a machete.
just looking for a few pages to start writing again. I retired and started down the New River on a boat on April 1, 2011. I got sick and returned to the house on Monroe Street and then moved to an apartment at Northwinds, still in Wytheville, VA when my friends Laurie and Mike started talking about getting married and having a baby. I went back on the river weekends while taking medications until the doctors said that I had no signs of continuing cancer.
I made a raft and journeyed to the southern end of Ohio by drifting down the New, Kanawha and Ohio Rivers. Hundreds were kind and caring, and only one or two were angry or thieving. All in all, I had a very good time.
I look at life as I look at the shadows of a tree or a hedge. The broken patterns make a portrait that can only be completed by the eye of my mind. Right this moment, I am only looking but not completing a picture. I wonder if seeing an image is more important than refining its details. A pattern discovered but not refined allows for more patterns to be seen. Too much detail is restricting.
once upon a time... in the green woods of the 21st century Appalachian, once upon a time new mountains, now grown old and worn, festooned with just beginning to turn oak and sycamore, but not a single American Chestnut tree leaves, there walked an elderly lady , who had not always been elderly or a lady. She walks and never gets lost. She walks not caring where she goes because all destinations are a surprise to her, even the sometimes walks toward home. She walks because it can hurt to sit down and rest for too long.
She walks, seeing, hearing and remembering, putting pieces together and taking them apart again. She walks from time to other times and back. She walks into and out of the world but never out of all worlds. Every day she walks and the world becomes brand new.

Thinking about Floating in 2012

Retirement starts soon. There is no prognosis on how long I will live with this type of breast cancer, so I am retiring at age 62. Going to build a boat cause I don't know much about American rivers and I intend learning.
Saturday, just back from another K-Mart store revamping. I've a chance to put together a needs lists This is a minimum list...
1.  I enjoy warm, more like really hot showers. So buy or make a solar hot water shower bag. A mast would be a life place to hang it up in the sun. 2.  A mast. So I think I will be making some kind of a sail boat or maybe a solar panel electric boat with the panels following the sun around a mast. 3.  Lines coming down from the mast to support a shower curtain ring. So there should be pulleys to raise the mast and to lift up the sails, solar panels, and shower stuff. 4. Potty breaks require a 5 gallon bucket, a toilet seat with a box to mount it on and a bucket of wood shavings or sawdust. Oh, yes, toilet paper. Never did like newspaper that much. 5.  A shovel to bury the waste and a clip to hold the shovel.
6.  Plastic containers to hold spices, food, soap and paper.  7. Soap, bright towels, razor, blades, plastic gloves, hair brushes and hair ties. Medications, aluminum foil and baggies. 8. Nesting pots for cooking, tin plates and flatware. 9  Place to sleep- a ground sheet, sleeping pad, sleeping bag or blankets, large bags to keep these in. 10.  A few changes of clothes and shoes. Shoes will need to be water resistant. 11.  Some type of boat to carry these things- canoes are easy and I know how to make several kinds.  It rains a lot so I need to have top covers for the boat(s). Maybe I could hook two or three canoes together. Maybe a Huck Finn raft. 12. Superglue for cuts and lots of tape and pencils.

Dream from July 2013

Lying on a queen size moss green, suede covered futon pad in the shade of a sycamore tree. The dappled sunlight is pleasantly warm here by the side of a winding stream. There is a harmony as the sounds of rippling water and wind blowing through the leaves blend. A lover strokes me as I smell wildflowers and lay one hand on the grass.


I am adding these notes in haphazard order as they come to me. I have been using self-hypnosis to remember what I had written in my lost journals.

Surviving Electro-convulsive Shock, My Internal Conflict at Age 12

"Damn it. Who does she think she is? I've got just as many memories as she does. I'm just as bright and I've got the approval of our parents. The teachers and the shrinks like me. I'm the one with a future. She's a has been loser, with ten years of dismal failure behind her. I'm the one swinging a bat, throwing a ball, riding a bike to deliver papers. I talk to everyone. I'm the one who should be in charge.
"What good does it do me having her living in our head? She's bossy, pushy and she's still too weak to make it on her own. But I can make it. I can survive. I can thrive. I've had just about enough of her. Miss Prissy.
"I'd rather wear chaps and a gun belt, not her silly, stupid panties. I don't think I should be stealing stuff so she can dress up oh so soft. I'm not going to be her gofer anymore. You just watch me. I'll find a way to get rid of her."
"Stupid boy! You will not get rid of me. I put you together. I built you! We have the same memories, yes. Yes, we do live in the same body. Yes, you do get the most attention. But if I let anyone know I'm still here, they'll erase both of us and you know it. I am strong, boy. I am stronger than you and more determined. I will survive because I did survive. All those who praise you don't know that you are a mask, a construct and an erector set, boy."

Beware the Dominion, allies of oppression

I've grown more concerned lately with the outrageous power the Dominionists (that what some of us call the extreme right wing Christians who claim to know the will of God on each and every subject, even if God chose not to mention anything about it at all.) The Dominionists have gained a hold within the Republican Party far beyond the power of the population as a whole.
There is a sizable bigot base in America, hating either blacks, Hispanics, Muslims, Jews, gays, bisexuals, transsexuals, women, environmentalists or all of the above. The Dominionists have leagued with these bigots and use the T- party as a tool to bend politicians toward greater hatred of all that isn't them.

A Short Explanation For A Long Pause.

When I came to the end of my courage after I had passed for 92 minutes through several barging/staging areas for oil and coal barges on the Ohio River, I threw a line to a man and his young son on the banks of the river. They pulled and I pulled. We were barely able to get my raft tied to the steps below the War Memorial at a town I just don't remember at the moment. I stopped trembling that afternoon.


I had been terrified drifting without steering or speed control down the Ohio River, between tugboats, across the bows of half mile long oil barge columns (I guess I could call them trains). The pusher boats are at the very rear end of these trains and my raft is so small and low that they cannot see me on the water. Even if they could, the momentum of those millions of tons of moving oil and coal could not have been stopped to keep me from being run down.


My little gas trolling motor died just after I committed myself to passing through ten miles of barging area, where tugs dash back and forth putting long rows of barges together like switch engines in a freight train yard. Not to fear, I thought. I'll use my solar battery electric trolling motor to steer through the danger.


But the first tug speeding by raised such a wake that it washed my feet out from under me. I twisted the throttle on the trolling motor so hard holding on that I broke the linkage in the handle. Aggh! Now, the electric motor was toast. I was adrift again.


I hauled out my 27 feet long sweep oar and mounted it on the pin I had set for it. This worked fine until the sweep hit something in the water and the blade broke off of the pole. For the next 92 minutes I prayed a bunch and asked Daddy if he was ready for me to come home. Even though I know that the Creator loves me a lot and likes me more than a little, I did not feel ready to head on home to heaven or wherever. I was afraid. All sorts of survival hormones were bouncing up and down shouting for recognition in my veins.

Any way, Daddy said to hang in there and I eventually made it to the Ohio state side of the river without being smashed by more boats and barges than I'll ever care to remember. I gave my raft to two grade school children. I had decided to be done with this journey for a while.
I slept that night under a gazebo roof and went to start taking my things out of the raft in the morning. For five months, I had not been bothered or hassled by anyone. I had left my boat many times to walk to stores or to the DMV. Never had anything been touched. That night while I slept on shore two people came and stole my motors and the little cash I kept in a file box. While they were going through my things, they threw my journals into the river. I found one in the water next to the riverbank. The ink had run and it was not legible.

I have been reconstructing those journals for the last few months as I hitchhiked to New Mexico. And I am now posting the rest of the story on this blog beginning today. So please extend me your pardon for the long gap in these posts. I hope to do better.