Jephthah’s Daughters


Jephthah’s Daughters.(Click here to read more)

Shall we regard our girl children as Jephthah’s Daughters?  How long will we continue to perpetuate the adage, “Women love their sons, but raise the daughters.”  Every child deserves the opportunity to succeed in life but success comes through accepting responsibility and learning to be accountable.  Any child male or female who constantly lashes out at authority figures in a bid to always be “right” is a child bound for prison or the graveyard.  Stop making girls the sacrificial lambs!!

Ladies, let’s love our girl children and stop putting them on the altar in order to save a son who does not wanted to be saved and does not think he needs help or worse some no account man who should not even be a part of our households to begin with. Let us not return to ancient times when girls and women were thought of as little more than chattel or commodities to be bought and sold. (See below for more details on ancient economies)

Girl Sacrifice

“One of the unusual things about the Bible is that it preserves some bits of this larger context. … It would seem that the economy of the Hebrew kingdoms, by the time of the prophets, was already beginning to develop the same kind of debt crises that had long been common in Mesopotamia: espe­cially in years of bad harvests, the poor became indebted to rich neigh­bors or to wealthy moneylenders in the towns, they would begin to lose title to their fields and to become tenants on what had been their own land, and their sons and daughters would be removed to serve as servants in their creditors’ households, or even sold abroad as slaves.

“[This is what the biblical book of Nehemiah is referring to in the passage,] ‘Some of our daughters are brought unto bondage already: neither is it in our power to redeem them.’ One can only imagine what those words meant, emotionally, to a father in a patriarchal society in which a man’s ability to protect the honor of his family was everything. Yet this is what money meant to the ma­jority of people for most of human history: the terrifying prospect of one’s sons and daughters being carried off to the homes of repulsive strangers to clean their pots and provide the occasional sexual services, to be subject to every conceivable form of violence and abuse, pos­sibly for years, conceivably forever, as their parents waited, helpless, avoiding eye contact with their neighbors, who knew exactly what was happening to those they were supposed to have been able to protect. … http://www.delanceyplace.com/view_archives.php?2009

Donations to this Ministry for the Housing Fund can be made in U.S. Funds via money order or bank checks made payable to Rochdale Village Inc. 169-65 137th Avenue, Jamaica, NY 11434, Account No. 083-11G-16924 or directly to deborah.palmer280@gmail.com via Paypal.  Thank you and God Bless.

Make it Like it Was


Make it Like It Was

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

 Since I’ve been laid up for over a week and this pain won’t let me rest I decided to take a walk down memory lane as inspired by the photo of me at around age five or six.

Me at around age five or six
Little Me

 

Age 5 – I was eating Rice Krispies

Age 50+ My body sounds like Rice Krispies. “Snap, Krackle, Pop!” Every muscle, tendon and joint aches and if I tried to do that Pop and Lock dance from the 70s I’d stay that way!

Age 5: I could eat anything I wanted and as much of it as my little tummy could hold.

Age 50+ My various doctors tell me constantly what I can and cannot eat.

Age 5: Never knew what sickness was. I do remember having Chicken Pox and the Measles but a visit to the doctor, a little calamine lotion, plus extra love from Mommy and Daddy and I was up on my feet in a few days.

Age 50+ I estimate I’ve been in some doctor’s office, sick at home or in the hospital every other month for the last two years.

Age 5: Penny candies.

Age 50+ Advil, Tylenol, Ambien, High Blood Pressure pills, etc…

Age 5: I was very inquisitive, creative and innovative. My parents encouraged and supported me in all my endeavors. Of course as a child I also had endless amounts of playtime. Even when my baby brother couldn’t or wouldn’t play with me I had imaginary friends plus I loved playing with ants. Probably from the ants point of view I was a sadistic child torturing them and they were glad when my Mom called me in for lunch or dinner!

Age 50+ The institution discourages creativity or thinking of any kind. I’m now paid to be a drone, a wage slave, a mindless robot. In fact I’ve been warned by a certain supervisor that any deviation from the expected will result in disciplinary action. So I hide my intelligence and let everyone think that I’m stupid. Makes life easier.

However during the little free time I have when I’m not ill or an inmate of the asylum,  I enjoy being outdoors watching people and exploring. I especially enjoy the Botanic Gardens. Any of them, in any borough. I’m not particular. If I could get to the zoo I’d go there also.

One good difference between ages five and fifty-one is that now I hate television. Got rid of the TV back in January and don’t miss it. My vision has diminished so it’s very difficult for me to watch television. Gives me headaches. Plus there is nothing of value on TV anymore. Growing up in the 1960s was the golden age of television; mind you I was watching Felix the Cat and other old time cartoons, a few game shows, Romper Room, Batman, the Green Hornet, etc….

Also unlike today’s parents my mother and father restricted my TV viewing. I did not have a TV in my bedroom.  We had that one Black & White RCA Victor vacuum tube television in the living room which my father controlled. To this day I still hate Lawrence Welk and Mitch Miller! My parents were old-fashioned and expected me to spend most of my free time if not playing, then reading or drawing. As a result I could read by the time I was four and was a pretty good artist ages seven to seventeen.

Well enough walking down memory lane. Time for lunch with a side of Advils. Oh yes, the glories of getting older.

Me in 1961
1961- A Very Good Year