Department of Children and what?

The ending to the title should say Families. Families with a capital F. Somehow this word or perhaps just its meaning seems to have escaped the mindset of the people employed there. I have written before of my own nightmarish involvement with DCF. On April 5, 2015 my only son will turn two years old. In the almost two long years I have been fighting frantically to have him returned to me, I have suffered more indignities than I ever have due to racism. Early on in the fight I contacted Congressman McGovern's office for assistance. That sterling champion of the people wasted no time in having a staff member contact me. This individual listened impassioned as I related my tale. You could almost see her shaking her head from side to side in disbelief through the phone. This wonderful lady informed me that Massachusetts State Senator Harriett Chandler's office oversaw some functions of the DCF entity and that I should contact her and the Senator, along with Congressman McGovern would see what could jointly be done. I was also informed that a representative from the Congressman's office would contact the local DCF office and instruct them to deal with me fairly. There is no doubt that this did indeed occur. Just two weeks prior to my contacting the Congressman, the DCF supervisor had informed me that they had suddenly decided to change the goal in regards to my son from reunification with his birth parents, to adoption by strangers. I guess in his small eyes they are not strangers. From the moment he wakes, till he lays his tiny head down to sleep at night these people are mommy and daddy. The strangers are those two barely familiar people he might see for one hour twice a month. Two hours a month for twenty four months. two twenty four hour days for two years of life. A few months ago I contacted Senator Chandler. Her office immediately put me in touch with the Ombudsman's Office of DCF. I never knew such a branch of DCF existed The director of this office called me directly. After some background information and a review of my file by him, he informed me that DCF should have never denied me custody of my son from the very beginning. This is coming from the head individual in charge of investigating consumer complaints against DCF. He assigned a liaison person to assist me in dealing with DCF and to bring my son home and reunite my family more quickly.  It has now been almost two months and I am still no closer to having my son. Today was a scheduled visit with my son. I prepared his bag, bought his snacks, said my prayers and set off to spend one of the two most wonderful hours of my month. As I am sitting there, palms wet with anticipation anxiously looking out the window for my little boy. The mean spirited supervisor comes over. She informs me that the person who usually sits in on my supervised visit with my son was out sick, so my visit had been cancelled. I looked at her in disbelief. DCF regularly sends two individuals to my home for their monthly home inspection. But one person calls in sick and there is no other staff to sit there for an hour with me and my son. Hell the supervisor could have done it. From the outset they have done whatever they could to distance me from my son and make his time with me as uncomfortable as possible. Department of Children and what I say? I have just completed a 15 page letter to the U.S Department of Justice. Civil Rights Division. If a U.S Congressman, a State Senator and a Director of the Ombudsman's office can see the error of DCFs ways maybe the good folks in Washington can too. I will keep you posted.    

Too late we already called

www.facebook.com/helping homiesAs I delve deeper and deeper into the swirling sewer  which is the Department of Children and families, I can feel the wind being sucked from my very lungs, as I try to maneuver through all the swirling refuse. But, I am not alone. Pity the other poor bastards. forced to toil under that ruthless overseer. That Plantation style hierarchy that exits there does not hesitate for a moment to  sell another poor slave down the river. As enlightened as we are as a society, how do we continue to ignore all those injustices we allow our own society to perpetuate. Much less, to perpetuate on ourselves. The laws as written, allows a semi- private semi-governmental agency free reign to decide the fate of millions upon millions of American children and families.Initially there was great need for such an agency. With there being no oversight over the health and welfare of millions upon millions of children  suffering under poverty, there  was rampant abuse and exploitation of  children. With limited phones, roads and resources poor children in this country were at the mercy of sickos  and lunatics. Fast forward to the modern era. In no way am I saying that we as a people have evolved to the level of enlightenment that we no longer need agencies like  our modern day  DCF. That being said, it is also true that we have not evolved to the level of enlightenment that allows us to police ourselves and our children with a cadre of caring, kind and uncompromising individuals, totally dedicated to the pursuit of what is best for our families and our children.  As long as money is the incentive, there will always be individuals who will exploit and manipulate the taking of and the placing of our children. Money will be passed and the criteria for taking and selling of our young is bent and twisted for the advantage of the greedy and the well heeled. Hard to fathom? How long would there be such a groundswell of individuals and organizations receiving these confiscated if the financial incentive to do so was removed. I'm sure there are thousands of people who truly love there charges and would not even consider giving back a beloved family member if they were forced to totally foot the entire bill of having and raising  these placed children. On the other hand there are an equal amount of recipients who would drop their charges off at the nearest fire station or hospital if the financial incentive were eliminated. How many times does a friend of a friend who knows somebody who knows somebody who works for the Agency, who can put in a good word or special order for the child of their dreams. Ever since the explosion of children having children, Agency workers and people like them have had a  rich crop of prospective babies for sale. It seems that even in cases where there is borderline concern about a child's or families well being, the Agency swoops in and confiscates somebodies kid. To the dismay of frightened and confused parents and the sometimes detriment of a small child. Many of these children become permanently scarred. Was I abandoned? why didn't mommy and daddy love me? was this my fault? the questions sometimes go without an answer for their entire lives. I recently met a young mother who with her newborn son, made the journey to our great state from Florida. Court ordered to  residential treatment program there, she left that state, traveled to Springfield Massachusetts and moved in with her baby's father. After weeks of fighting her ex over his controlling nature, heroin use and striking her in front of their newborn, she left him, took her son and entered Friendly House's shelter program for families. This young woman, twenty three years old with a truly delightful personality, found out eight months ago that she was HIV positive. A month later she learned she had passed the virus to her son in her womb. She cared for her son from birth to seven months. Administering his medication cocktail, feeding him, nurturing him under quite possibly one of the most difficult times of his young life, newborn and ill. She did not falter. With criminal charges possibly pending in Florida an abusive possessive boyfriend scouring the city in search of her here and herself and her newborn both HIV positive she had quite a lot on her plate. Not once did she even consider handing her son over and going for broke. She got into an argument with the shelter director one morning. It seems the girl, who is quite attractive, was getting in the director's words too much attention from the male inhabitants of the shelter. They even smoked a blunt of marijuana with her.With nothing more serious than that to go on, this self righteous family shelter director accused the young mother with neglect. Her assertion was that her infant son was not being properly cared for because there was no infant formula in the room. Frantic the mother asked whoever she could to help her out with the eight dollar baby formula cost. All to no avail. By the time she had scraped together the money then went to make the purchase, the shelter director was on the phone calling DCF, the Agency. The mother returned to the shelter with formula in hand, only to be told that it was too late, DCF were on their way. Stunned the mother just stood there with the unopened box of baby formula in hand as they took from her the thing that mattered most to her. The one person she had cared for, nurtured and loved. After that, the young mother tried taking her own life. She now resides somewhere between hopelessness and defeat from the loss. Every now and again she will perk up when talk is made of fighting back and challenging the Agency.

The Agency

I have, for some time now been embroiled in a custody battle for my son. There is nothing in this world that means more to me than him. He was taken way on the day of his birth, and for the past year my time with him has been limited to two hours twice a month. When he is brought to me on these visits he is always a little bewildered. He doesn't seem to know what's going on. His foster parents, who by all outward appearances seem normal, must keep him awake and unfed just prior to these visits, so that he is cranky and irritable. Once he is in my arms he calms right down, it is almost as if he knows there is some unbroken bond of love between us that our time apart can't break. Myself, I am always depressed when he comes to me and when he leaves. I feel like I have let him down in a way a parent should never allow. The need to nurture him and protect him is more than I can bear, but my hands are tied, he is in the control of the agency. He was taken as  result of DCF becoming involved in his mothers life some fourteen years ago. That was when her first child was taken from her. Since then four other children were taken due to their mothers substance abuse and homelessness issues. My son makes six. This may seem like an awful predicament and the mother must seem like some kind of monster, but I have never seen someone so deliberate and caring with a child as she. This birth would have been her best chance to become what she has always wanted to be, a mom. She has faced her demons, resolved her homelessness issues and basically gotten her life on track, but due to DCF  involvement her chances of getting her son back are slim. I have never had a child taken from me like this. I have lost a son at birth and a daughter at twelve, but never before have I had to face an agency as devious and resourceful as this. They are willing to spend untold amounts of money to foster parents, lawyers, workers, psychologists, and other support staff not just for the well being of a child, but so that they can justify there position their child takings and their jobs. My son was injured while in the care of his foster parents and now has a scar over his eye he will carry for life. This in addition to the untold emotional scars this placement will most certainly have on him. The criteria the agency places on determining suitability for parenthood revolves around their service plan. This set of do's and don'ts is changed at a whim, and the bar is constantly raised once tasks are completed. This ruthless system has played untold havoc in the lives of millions of children and parents. Alcohol abuse, obesity and neglect are non existent problems that this agency fails to address. Their only concern is if a parent is using or not. I am not saying that use of illegal substances is an issue that should be ignored, what I am saying is that millions of people lead perfectly functional lives doing so. Cigarettes by far the most addictive of all drugs are openly sold and taxed. No child is taken from their parents for abusing this drug. If we as a society must set the bar for acceptable behavior lets start there.

Cliven Bundy's other America

Cliven Bundy, obviously no relation to Al Bundy only twice removed, rides into America's race relations debate, like a modern day Ben Cartwright another illustrious pioneer of the great state of Nevada. Much aligned by the powers that be, for refusing to bend on his ownership and entrepreneurial freedoms. The fray has propelled Bundy to national attention and qualified him as a celebrity spokesperson for whats more suitable, for millions and millions of poor indigent Americans, relief  or Slavery. However sincere his beliefs or his apology, the shamefulness of his remarks, only masks the ignorant, privileged prevalent  prevailing prejudice poisoning our country. A statement casually made that can in an instant lay the blame of  the past predicament of  millions upon millions of  concentration camp like captives of a global business and capital endeavor 500 years ago and simultaneously blame the majority of their descendants on their own doing , can only be made by a descendant of the people, culture, rulers, owners and CEO's who were enriched doing it half a millennium ago and those same doing it now.  

Obama

As a boy too young to grasp full meaning of history present and past, I knew not the consequences of the events occurring and how they would alter the world of the present and future. Martyred leaders King and Kennedy brought chaos, tears and fears. It seemed the world would soon end. Hearts torn by hatred, never to mend. War between races, religion, classes  always present never past. Fueled by the selfish greed of men, seemed our world would soon end. But no, for God has blessed the race of man to change and hope that "Yes We Can". The new battle cry of the old and the young. who together cried out "our work has begun". With a leader I felt these eyes would not see, a brown skinned giant who looked just like me. There may be hope yet I tell myself. We may yet make it past our past.

A Beautiful Day

On a warm sunny day as I lay in the grass, I hear children laughing as they ride their bicycles pass. The birds are all singing their sweet songs of joy, the trees all sway gently in the breeze like some toy. A beautiful day, so warm and so clear, peering off at those white clouds and the heavens seem so near. What is this that I hear sounds just like a shout, just children all playing and running about. This day is so perfect wish it would not end, nature so comforting to me like a friend.

Words I share. put in your ear

This your wish my precious dear, your love has kept us close me near.You never ever have to fear, you'll be alone I won't be here. I pray to God you are aware of this great feeling I'll always bear. My responsibility I'll always care, I pray these words bring you good cheer.

How in this world did we as people come to this point. We let others dictate to us what we will and what we will not do. Sure there are rules, regulations, traditions, sayings, laws, and karma which guide us, which keep us in line. But where is it written that our will will be dictated by the will of others." Speak softly and carry a big stick". Immortal words from an icon in American history. Where does it say that the will of the people by the people and for the people doesn't matter anymore? This country was founded and does exist on the principle that free will as long as it doesn't infringe on the rights of others should be allowed to be expressed. Our fore fathers endured unimaginable hardships so that their offspring would be allowed to survive and prosper.Poverty, illness, and afflictions affected almost everyone in society, rich and poor. Alcohol abuse was prevalent in American society. Sexual abuse, by far the leading social economic problem of the day was commonplace, even in the most respectable of homes.Some how some way we as a society endured to exist to the present day. There were or most definitely are agencies created to deal with these rising social problems But none were/are suited to stem the tide of this social meltdown. Then along comes DCF. In Massachusetts, the department of children and families, but each and every state has its deviation of the model. This quasi governmental agency has been granted by our government  God like power and influence over the lives of practically every human in this country.They reign supreme over our actions and our lives. Their mantra is that they do whats in the best interest of the children. But what really matters, at least to them is winning. To win at all cost. No matter the damage done to the children. No matter the hurt done to the parents that love them. Winning at all cost, that is their mission. How many families have been shred apart because of their actions? How many lives destroyed because of heir uncaring attitude? Some say that their actions is reminiscent of  slavery in this country. Children sold to the highest bidder. In this fiscal nightmare with so many families suffering to get by, barely making it. Not unlike families in America from  bygone eras, The Revolutionary War, The War of 1812, The Spanish American War, World War 1, the Great Depression World War 2, etc, etc. This country has gone through its share of problems, some social some economic, but through it all the overriding factor has always been and will always be, the family. Through good times and bad families have endured. From the stone age to the computer age, hardship is as American as apple pie. Never before in the history of mankind has a disruption in the fabric of family life been so prevalent as in the modern era. In the past people suffered in silence. What problems there were in the family, stayed in the family. There were no outside agencies free to interfere in the rights of families, people handled their business like they always have and always will. A case I recently encountered featured a man and a woman from opposite sides of the tracks. The mother, with numerous encounters with agencies, had given up the hope that one day she would be part of a family she helped create. The father, by all indications, was an upstanding forthright individual. For no apparent reason other than they could, this agency intervened in their lives and tore it apart. For over a year they worked tirelessly to reunite their family, all to no avail. Lacking the resources they floundered and failed. No major character flaws here. None broke the law of the land. And yet no matter how they tried and how hard, they were unable to overcome. It seems, the dcf worker assigned had a friend. This friend, awash in wealth, desired to have a child. Not willing to go through the nine months of hardship and labor to achieve this end, they conspired with their friend inside the system to buy themselves a child. Their initial investment amounted to a few thousand dollars. After three months they had recouped their initial outlay and proceeded to reap the harvest to the tune of several hundred thousand dollars. The child grew up with no knowledge or understanding of his culture. Upon becoming a man and learning he was was raised by surrogates, he somehow managed to blame himself for this travesty. God never gives you more than you can handle I have always been told. Easy comes easy goes. Never has it been or ever will be that due to a few unfortunate bumps in the road, that you proceed to set the car on fire.

It's Black History Month. 28 days to extol and honor the many contributions made by persons of color to our culture. When I was young the only history we ever heard Blacks made was as slaves. That has all changed now. Traffic lights, elevators and even peanut butter has all been attributed to the ingenuity of Blacks. Eygpt, the land of the pharoahs, located at the northern tip of the continent of Africa, birthplace of civilization. If its Africa then Blacks lived there. Those Cleopatra movies starring Liz Taylor and Dick Burton didn't show Blacks much more than as servants. How far have we come that The Prince of Eygpt shows the ruler of this mighty land as being Black. The Confederate flag. The symbol of Dixie and along with the swastica, symbols of racism, once held a very special place in the hearts of people of color in the mid nineteenth century south. Hundreds of thousands of Blacks fought under the Confederate flag, bravely and proudly, all to repel the Northern invaders. Some fought in place of their masters, while others fought lured by promises of freedom, the evidence shows a vast majority fought for their beloved states protection, for family and friend.    

Hot Coffee and "Beetle" Bailey

Some two summers ago, in the picturesque foothills of Central Massachusetts, a tiny stirring is heard in the woods. The Beetle's are coming the Beetle's are coming was the cry. Not since that fateful ride taken some two hundred thirty seven years ago was a call being resounded with such vigor. The Beetle's are coming the Beetle's are coming. Fast forward two hundred years, the sixties, free love, acid rock and  the Fab Four, aka "The Beetles"  not those beetles who made teenage girls swoon, these beetles made grown men swoon as they envisioned rows upon rows of crisp hundred dollar bills marching in step into their bank accounts. The chief  of the city of Worcester's Parks dept states that we the city has already cut down more trees than almost every Asian Longhorn Beetle on the planet Earth could eat in our lifetime. And that is what has already been cut down in the city of Worcester.The fact that more trees are slated for the ax, leads to some perplexing questions. During the Great War they would have called it war profiteering. That is a process by which one or a group of individuals or companies devise a way by which they can amass immense profits in a ongoing situation which has occurred or been manufactured. Or in simple terms starting a war then getting rich selling guns to both sides.They are cutting down trees with just one beetle hole in it, exclaimed an astonished city employee. It really wouldn't be a stretch to imagine some unscrupulous business man paying some bug guy to sprinkle beetles or larvae over a few city blocks, then watching as the panic sets in and the lumber begins to fall, I mean especially in this economy, even the millionaires are hurting.    

Trust, the ultimate surrender.How do we find it within ourselves to let down our guard and give in ti our feelings. Been fooled before ? we all have. The crying mother, standing in the middle of the street begging passer by individuals for change. She pleads and implores for her daughter stricken and in the hospital, she needs her to be by her side. A quarter here a dollar there,she will get there, but how long will it take depending on the charity of strangers. My heart reaches out to her as I remember my own child ,small and dependent totally on me hesitantly I reach in to my wallet and give and give to her the last twenty I have for the day. I feel a sense of relief. I did what I felt we were put on this earth to do, help one another through the struggles and perils.But the next day,driving that same desolate road, there she is imploring pleading crying all for the sake of the dollar.What kind of fool was I?

Please No More Tears

How can you doubt this heart felt love? This beautiful feeling, gifted from above. All day you sing" Let's kiss say goodbye" You sing and the tears drip down from your eye. I sit and think hard, I can't find a reason, for your belief  I betrayed you , committed this treason. Ah mood swings, bi-polar if that please feel free , to seek out some help, try psychiatry, My words you don't hear, my love you can't see, it seems like you've  slipped out of reality. Your fears are not just dear, my love is too great, to have harmed you in this way there's just no debate. I wont get myself angry yell at you and fight, for then you would leave hurt gone this very night. Let's sleep on it tonight, let hazy thoughts clear, maybe then the next day you will see that I care.  

Hot Coffee " What do you mean Occupy America, and with hoody's"

Its funny, but when anyone sees the words occupy and America in the same text they automatically become nervous. My blog title in no way is intended to offend or put anyone off. My idea for this blog began to develop during the occupy movement. That was when students, mostly college aged, pacifists, concerned citizens and the disenfranchised all came together to protest Wall Street, big business, local governments and the rich over the disparate distribution of wealth in this country. These individuals all got together and city by city decided to occupy some public park or other community space and to stay there, until there was some relevant conversation about the issues they were concerned about. They had the right idea. Especially when one reads that in 2013 the greatest transfer of wealth in history had occurred. Now I don't know, but I don't think that this transfer of wealth occurred from the rich to the poor. From the rich to the rich, maybe. More than likely this transfer occurred from the coffers of government to the pockets of the rich, so I would surmise that because of the fact that the majority of money the governments of the world holds comes from taxation, and that the middle classes and poor of this planet are the ones who pay the majority of the taxes, the wealth transfer occurred from the poor and middle class to the coffers of the rich. Right idea? yes organizationally correct? maybe not.Like any good idea, from the environmental movement beginning in the seventies to the Million Man March of the nineties, momentum was begun, change was imagined, then functionality evaporation occurs. Back to the present. Garnishing that idea, I supposed, why not an occupy America movement? Instead of a fractionalized movement separated by state borders, lets have a similar idea and plan of action that encompasses the entire country. Now I am in no way suggesting that those many thousands of wonderful people who endured countless hardships and constant harassment by law enforcement, the law abiding citizency and by those that prey on the righteous were in any way wrong. And neither am I alluding to this being the beginning the middle or the mesh of that great movement. I am only stating that any idea that has in its roots the sincere expression of what one or many believe to be right, and may have the ability to breathe a soft breath on an ember of righteousness, ought to encompass the entire country or the entire world. No such lofty goals here, but lets see. Then there is the hoodys part. That grew out of the death of Trevon. If the appearance one exudes triggers some inane fear or hatred. Or worse yet, if wearing a hoody in America is enough to get one killed, then we should all wear them morning noon and night until the hatred, fear or risk of being killed, no longer exists.