ibeachalot's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I hate this day... I hate February 27th. I've hated it since 1981. This year is no different. I can't believe Mister Rogers died. Go ahead and laugh. I did too, before I had kids. I watched him as a kid, but stopped admitting so after age 7 or so. Then when I became a teacher, and again when I had children of my own, I realized the impact he had on children. What a selfless, giving, caring man he really was. His shows and records (records are discs made of vinyl with recordings impressioned onto them) taught valuable lessons of all kinds. Kevin really enjoys flying into the Pittsburgh airport, near where Fred Rogers was born, because they have a tribute to him, housing many of his "Neighborhood" memorabilia. I'd love to see it sometime. It's a sad day in the neighborhood. Rest in peace, Mister Rogers. And thanks for the memories. Today I got en e-mail from Stacey. I hadn't heard from her in several days and wondered why. She was in a car accident over the weekend. She's okay, but in alot of pain. Her boyfriend Jason was driving when someone cut them off. He swerved to avoid the other car and he drove up over a curb and hit a parked car. I hate February 27th! On this day in history, I learned to hate, I learned to fear and I learned to distrust. On this day in 1981, I became a rape victim. I hate to use the word "closure" because I feel it's so overused these days, but I do finally have closure with this. I really do. My perpetrator was put to death three years ago (for a different crime) and I have put the incident behind me, for the most part. For those of you who don't believe in the death penalty, I urge you to think of the crime victim as well as the taxpayer. Maybe you'll change your mind. Every once in a great while, I'll wake up in a pool of sweat. In a dead panic, I'm convinced he's come back to life and is trying to find me to kill my babies. But it doesn't haunt me that often anymore. I don't want to go through the entire story, not so much because I don't want to, but because I don't need to. My emotional scares have healed for the most part. My physical scars still remain and are constant reminders of that night 22 years ago. I learned a hard lesson that night and it has forever changed me. But I recovered and I moved on. Thank you John Walsh!!! I owe you a debt of gratitude!!! I love you!!! But February 27th will always suck. 7:54 a.m. - 2003-02-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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