"Salman Abu Atwa. Negev Desert Patrol in Israel [October 1946]." Grandfather’s Special Chair
When I was barely four my grandfather, explained to me about the end of the world, not to frighten me but for me to understand because as he saw it; in my lifetime I would actually see it he had said. With the current domino effect going on in the world, I tend to wonder that he was right.
Grandfather had what was considered his special chair and one day shortly after the miracle occurred, he wanted me to come and talk to him about what he saw the day he had been looking over the doctor’s shoulder at me and I was too little to get up on the chair for he wanted me to just sit in his lap and talk to him. He had to actually pick me up and set me on his lap so he could talk with me and eventually learn things together; we would spend many happy hours going through this routine until he was gone. As to the only other person during this time and after he was gone that was actually allowed to sit in his chair, was myself. This is why the memory of the granddaughter, with the grandfather’s work worn knee in the following poem.
Here are some Islamic examples of Events towards the End of Time:
1. Abundant riches (oil?) will be discovered under the Euphrates River in Iraq and people will fight over them, causing much death and destruction.
2. Children will no longer obey their parents.
3. Poor nations will compete with each other to build tall buildings in their cities even as the populace starves.
4. It will be hard to tell men and women apart physically.
5. Women will outnumber men by a huge margin (50:1)
6. Religious knowledge will decrease dramatically and authentic pious scholars will be rare.
7. Wealth will be widespread and corruption will be rampant.
8. Music, female singers and alcohol will be prevalent.
9. The worse people will be chosen as leaders.
(One particular nation, in the name of there religion will cause great harm throughout the world and the world will be made to suffer as in the prophecy about Edom; especially Islam and Judaism, which was a great sorrow of learning to my grandfather in the last couple of months; in his life. Which he did not live long enough to fully understand the whole scope of what he had wanted to learn, which much was learned later; by his granddaughter. It should also be known, that in these final days of my grandfather's life; he also had a great apprehension towards Catholicism and being such a young age at the time was yet to understand, but never forgot his warning's. It was often thought for him, an historical mirror of what happened to many Native American's at the hands of these people. But he led one to believe, their was a connection to these two elements [of nation and religion]; in his thought.)
10. Their will be family turmoil in every household.
Grandfather’s Request
My grandfather had wished more then anything to see how I was to become as an adult, but he was murdered not long after he explained to me his ideas about the end of time. In his eyes like I would think most grandfather’s think of their grandchildren, he felt I would be an extraordinary adult and be an exceptionally good person and I hope I have not let him down.
The last thing my grandfather mentioned to me before he was to die, was he had wanted me to tell him after I too was gone; for in his mind I would see Paradise and to come and tell him what I had done with my life, that we would have a lot of “catch-up talking” to do, for it made him sad because he would not be able to see it or be in the majority of my life and he had the idea I would do amazing things with my life; which I still tend to wonder what he meant for I still do not quite understand his meaning, but cherish his thoughts anyway. But one thing he made a firm point, upon our separation; I was not to cry over the loss of him.
In The Distant Winds of Time
The memorable soundsOf an ancient land
Whispering softly in spring winds.
Tender calls of sorrow
Due to pain of tortures
The beatings of death.
Chariots drumming on cobblestones
Shouts of men
From distant countries
Take booty from another
Or a reprieve in security
Dissolving strife.
The elderly man sits solemnly
With his young granddaughter
On a work worn knee
Teaching the wisdom of sages
From his fading existence.
The humble soul
Hunched on a tired staff
In the pastures of humanity
Listening to the parallels
Passing on
Wondering what his voice
And his life will be
In the distant winds of time.
Final Years of a Martyr
As to grandmother Dora, who was the Queen of Israel at that time; she was not available because she was also having some health problems, during my mother’s illness and was unable to come for most of the time, my grandmother Dora was able to visit a couple of times when her health was improving. Nevertheless, she was extremely distressed, for she couldn't help care for my mother as she so deeply wished too; because of her own health condition due to her doctor's orders on grandmother’s recovery.
I wrote the above poem when I was in my later twenties about Israel, one day when I heard voices being carried in the wind and I began to have thoughts of home; with also thoughtful memories of my beloved grandfather and wondering what it would have been like, if he lived past my fourth year.
A deep wish of my grandfather’s that he mentioned to me when I was three years-old, was to go and live his final days in Israel; a place he held deep in his heart from as he said, what he learned from being around mother and I. He felt America, was not the place for him and he wanted to be able to die and be buried in Israel; which he never got to do. When he was murdered, he was sixty-two years-old. I always considered him my grandfather, because of how much he loved mother and me; to even give his own life for us.
Grandfather's Early Day’s of Being Tuskegee Cherokee
My grandfather was born in the Indian territory before their was a State of Oklahoma, in what was still considered at that time as “No Man’s Land;” because the only people that ventured into this part of the country where Native American’s or at one time Civil War veterans that would not make allegiance with the North (United States) and where considered by the United States as outlaws. People lived in this area for survival, especially the Native American’s because they where still under threat by the Native American Extermination Act.
My Grandfather was Tuskegee Cherokee and his family previously had been survivor’s of the what became known as the Trail of Tears and had jumped the fence at Fort Gibson after their arrival into the territory; while they survived going over the fence countless other’s did not, the US military shot Native American men, women and children trying to get over the fence.
There is an oral tradition, that the Tuskegee Cherokee came into the America’s, by boat; from one of the now Canary Island’s that had sank into the Mediterranean Sea, during the time of the Great Flood.
A wintry scene in Stanfield, Texas; on February 2007.
Nevertheless, when my grandfather was a young man, his father moved them for work unto what was the Stanfield Ranch; some people call it the Stanfield Brothers Ranch; but the people that lived their tended to use the latter. This place was 15 miles northeast of Henrietta, Texas. The Stanfield Ranch, was a 22,000 acre spread that had included land settled by Joe Campbell in the early 1880’s, which it was said it would take a man a month to travel from one end of the ranch to the other by horseback.
While my grandfather and his family lived on the ranch, his father became extremely ill, of what was known in those days as Bright’s Disease; which was caused from high blood pressure, before their was medicine to control this problem. He lingered in bed for a time and eventually died, from this illness, it was said.
My Grandfather being the only man in the house, with his mother and seven sister’s; left school and became the old type of Cowboy, not what one see’s or thinks of today. He broke horses by taking them into the Red River and “rode fence,” which meant he checked and repaired the ranch fence; which at times he could be gone a month or more. At the time my grandfather did this with the child welfare laws in America today, he would have not been allowed to work because of his age; but in this case their was no one else to care for the family.
The Red River from the Oklahoma side, on 4 July 2007; during apparently the rainy season, which was common for this river to flood or come over its banks; the red clay in the area is what gives the river the color of red and it has been said is where the name of the river came from.
In these days, it was uncommon to see an automobile, most people still used wagon’s or rode by horseback, especially if one needed to go to town and in those days, it was easier to go by horseback and swim the Red River, even if it was over the banks to what became known as Ryan, Oklahoma; then make the long trip to Henrietta, Texas.
During this time when my grandfather was seventeen years-old he had been joking in a barn with a friend and they where throwing sweet potatoes at each other, until one hit my grandfather in the eye, which caused him to loose that eye and later every so often wore a glass one. The first time I saw the glass eye in a dish, I got scared because I thought it was real and wondered why anyone would put a real eye in a dish. I was told a short time later, what it was all about.
My Grandfather eventually married to a woman (who would cause him grief his whole life, for she was mean as a nest of hornets, with a wicked tongue; she was also Cherokee.) when he was in his early twenties, her merely sixteen and they had three children, two boys and a girl. As far as I know, the two boys, where the only ones born on the ranch. When, thing’s started changing on the ranching, from what I had been told, grandfather tired his hand at farming in and area known as Parker county, Texas; which was considered for a time another, ‘“No Man’s Land” due to Native American’s still being attacked by the white’s. Until the day my grandfather died, he still kept a loaded six shooter under his pillow; from the threat of the life he grew into by Whiteman’s threat‘s towards the Native American‘s.
He apparently enjoyed being on the farm because he would talk about it every once and a while and as the Great Depression was getting worse they eventually had to move into town (Wichita Falls, Texas); until 1939, where they made the great move for them to Southern California, by a car; where they first lived next door to my grandmother Dora and my mother was about ten years-old. Grandfather would later, moved down the street and around the corner, where they had bought a house.
It was when they where living next door to grandmother Dora, that my grandfather’s oldest son(his son was later labeled an extremely cold blooded serial killer, because of the endless string of people he has murdered and is still at large, today)which became a great disgust to my grandfather; became a traitor not only to the Native American’s, but towards the people of Israel and later was the man that murdered his own father under orders by what was said to me in later years, by then former US President John F. Kennedy; who wanted the monarchy of Israel completely wiped out and anyone that got in the way (which over the years regardless of nationality or religion, an innumerable amount of people have lost there lives). Also, my understanding the plan for this was originally started by then former US President Harry S. Truman, around 1947 or 1948.
“Medicine Man”
Not just among the Tuskegee Cherokee, but most people that did have close contact with my grandfather knew he was what the Native American’s called a “Medicine Man” or a “Holy Man” and usually held great respect for grandfather; for his knowledge and fortitude about life. Which would amaze people, even my mother thought he had to be a holy man; for not just the way he knew how to talk to my mother and his great respect for her; but his overwhelming knowledge about Allah (Hashem) and his strength of faith. Myself, he was a kind, very humble person and at times a very quite man. For him to show any type of happiness, was considered by many; a rarity until he met me, is what some people had said.
He believed that as to inspired knowledge, that it had to come from Allah (Hashem) Himself and that he did not believe people should go to a religious seminary; for they are not learning what really comes from Allah (Hashem) or at times possibly gained a form of corrupted knowledge, is how he use to put it; that a person had to keep there eyes and heart on Allah (Hashem), to be truly good in this life and to gain true knowledge. That the one, a person could always trust in this life is Allah (Hashem); in all things and believed in complete purity.
The Crazy Habela Woman and the Yellow Tennis Ball
After a time my grandfather had moved down the street and around the corner from Grandmother Dora, there was an ally behind his house (which was fenced off with a gate that usually was locked) and towards the right of his house and also separated by a small field was where the crazy bum (Habela) woman lived. Her house if one could call it that was not much bigger then some people’s tool buildings and rather poorly built, unless she was going out; tended to dress rather raggedy. It was always a wonder, how she even came to be in the ally; let alone live there in the first place.
While people did very seldom see her, when one did; she usually caused a great commotion, with a very vulgar mouth and tended to think most people accept grandfather; was scared of her.
She parked and drove a big truck, for the standards of the day and would make flower arrangement’s to sell at what was called in Southern California as “Swap Meet’s,” which usually was the only time she could be considered nice and rather quite. Some people said this was the only way she made a living. On the side’s of her truck she had painted such things as “Jesus Saves,” to other things of this nature.
Grandfather for a time had been working at a University tending the grounds, because it was hard for him to find the kind of work in California that he actually knew how to do. He also used to say, he had outlived his time and while the world was changing or modernizing for the early 1960’s; he said he did not fit into the modern world, one also need’s to remember, he was living before most people even saw the first airport or planes as public transportation. Anyway, he use have to pick-up usually yellow tennis ball’s which he was allowed to keep.
Nevertheless, he usually gave them away to a child when he saw one and I use to receive quite a few.
On a particular day, him and I had been playing catch and while I was still learning to do so, one of the throws from grandfather threw by me and landed over the front porch into the side small field; at first I did not wish to climb over the rail of the porch because of the crazy habela woman because us children where afraid of her.
Grandfather told me to go ahead and climb over to retrieve the tennis ball; well I did and out came the crazy habela woman; yelling and cursing with her vulgar language, words I had never heard before. Needless to say, while I did by this time have the tennis ball in my hand; I froze in place with the woman’s attack on me.
Grandfather what seemed out of nowhere had apparently came over the porch rail and started yelling back at the woman, I had never even seen my grandfather yell before and he was telling her that the side yard did not belong to her, because this was what she started screaming about, too me being there and that she was to never use profanity at his granddaughter; ever and that I could come into the side field when ever I pleased, especially on retrieval of a ball.
She huffed, stops yelling ugly and went back to her ally shack, where grandfather took the hand of the frozen child and walked me to the porch rail and helped me get back over. All the while trying to comfort me and telling me not to worry about her.
For further knowledge, the woman was actually considered to be mentally ill, which was also the first time; I had been around someone with this type of illness. According to the different people in the neighborhood she was actually called, the “crazy habela woman,” “crazy bum or beggar woman” to just the “ that crazy woman.”
Not As an Ordinary Day
Something my grandfather enjoyed doing is sit in his freestanding patio swing, which was in the back of his house in a kind of garden, because his wife had rose bushes of every color that I think was imaginable for roses and yes, this is where the roses came from that I was putting by my mother’s bed for a time when she was recovering from her illness; but I was only allowed for a short time and for grandfather’s wife to agree was extremely rare, for her to even have agreed, shocked some people, especially my mother because how contrary and disagreeable grandfather’s wife actually was even to her own husband.
To even be allowed to have any of the roses to begin with, she showed me the proper way to cut a rose stem, because as she put it; that she did not wish her bushes to look raggedy. Which while I never had the nerve to tell her, I was happy she had showed me.
Nevertheless, he would sit with me in this swing and we would not necessarily talk, but would just be happy with each other’s company and these days it always seemed so very pleasant; not as an ordinary day.
After he had died, I sat in the swing once or twice, but it would never been the same and after a little time I stopped doing so; eventually his wife would remove the swing from her yard.
My grandfather was actually a simple man when it came to anything materialistic, it is often thought of everything he actually owned; that a person could remove it with just one fair size suitcase. But he was the type of man, that this was enough for him.
Grandfather usually wore slate gray matching work clothes and if he was going out of the house a certain type of hat; which he originally began wearing when they had moved into Wichita Falls, Texas years earlier. How he could find the same type of hat in Southern California was a wonder to a lot of people but he did and it always looked new.
The only time he may have wore a suit for instance, was on what he considered special occasion’s and he never forgot to wear his hat on the way out the door.
Other times, we would sit in metal chairs on the front porch and he would sometimes tell me stories about the old days in his life or just look across the horizon, to every once in awhile wait for the Good Humor truck.
He taught me some tricks to do with a chair that he learned when he was a young man back on the Stanfield Ranch, but mother told me not do them for they may damage the chair nor did she think girls should be doing tricks with chairs; such as leaning back in the chair with the back legs against a wall. Which I did stop doing, after mother explained; even though grandfather thought these tricks where harmless or found it made his wife sometimes mad, which made him laugh a bit. For grandfather thought that there was no more disagreeable person living, than his wife and it has been said all the years they where married; they very seldom got along with each other, which could be a case of complete opposites in personality not being happy with each other. But they stayed married on till the day he died.
As far as I know the only thing they agreed upon is there dislike for White America and it’s cruelties towards people like them and where they separated in ideal’s on this; was grandfather’s disapproval later, of how the Jewish and Islamic people (especially from Israel) where being mistreated in America, during his lifetime; which he was to learn after he had moved to California in 1939 and into a predominately Orthodox Jewish, Traditional Muslim ( Canaanites where not allowed in this neighborhood because of their criminal tendencies nor even in those day's, where these people considered Palestinian because they are not and because of the curse on them) neighborhood; which grandfather seemed to like being around his neighbors and give greeting's to them.
Also, there was one black family in this neighborhood; that lived across the street from Grandmother Dora, where I would visit with my grandmother. The nice black lady use to make tea and homemade delicious sweets, that one never can forget the wonderful taste. I also use to play children’s games with the ladies children sometimes, while Grandmother Dora was visiting and talking to the very lovely black lady. If we saw each other in our perspective front yards which was usually when I was visiting or staying for a little time with Grandmother Dora, we use to warmly smile and wave at each other.
“She Shall Walk Alone”
Even when I was very young, I seemed to have some "special gifts" (one example, was the dreams that always came true), as everyone in those days called them and my grandfather as well as my mother would try to explain to me where they came from and that not just anyone was able to do what I understood.
One day, while standing in my grandfather’s living room not far from his special chair, I was very sad that day because I had been thinking about what had been said at an earlier time with a very lack of understanding and looking around me about being different then everyone else and the more I thought about it standing there; the sadder I seemed to get and my head was bent over almost what seemed towards my chest.
My grandfather came out through the kitchen door and saw me, he asked me to come and sit on his lap in his special chair and to please tell him what was wrong, because he had never seen me as sad as this. He helped me up as always and I sat on his lap and he put a gentle arm around me and by this time the tears where trickling down my face.
When I explained, of 'why was I different than everyone else' by not just what was said, but what I understood in my seeing or thinking. Grandfather actually chuckled a bit and explained again about me being sent by Allah (Hashem) and that very few people are sent, they are just born, that people like myself in a manner of speaking would in a partial respect walk alone in this world because of the manner of their birth and what Allah (Hashem) had sent me to do. But to further understand in another respect, I would actually never be alone and that I would have a lot to see and look foreword too; in my life.
That I should actually be happy that I was different and that grandfather never wished me to be anything, but myself; while I did not fully understand him in those days and in a manner still do not quite understand everything today; I did nevertheless, at that time stopped crying and accept what grandfather said, in wonderment.
My Little White Stuffed Dog
In December 1961, only a very short time before I was to loose my grandfather; he gave me the only present that as far as I know he ever purchased, it was a child size stuffed white dog with a black felt face and black button eyes.
I hung unto this toy very closely for about forty-three-years until one day the stuffed dog just disappeared.
During this time, the “Peanuts” cartoons where very popular especially with children and as other children, I saw them sometimes on television; but for a time only in black and white, due to not having color television.
Nevertheless, I named the white stuffed dog that my grandfather gave me, “Snoopy,” after the cartoon Snoopy because of how much affection the cartoon dog always had for the little yellow bird named, “Woodstock.”
While over the years of a child’s enjoyment of this stuffed toy and it had gotten a bit ragged over the years and not quite as white with all my hugging and curling up and sleeping with the dog at night, the felt not as crisp as it once was, but one thing most important; the reason it was given to me and the twinkle in my grandfather’s eyes the day it arrived through his gentle hands.
But one thing special about this stuffed dog named “Snoopy” when I was growing-up, when things would get just to hard for me or just to sad; my little stuffed dog always seemed to help take the painful sting away for a little while; with the idea of not only having something to hold in my hands, but the memory of my grandfather’s face the day he gave it to me.
In The Steps of a Martyr
In the short time I actually got to know my grandfather, while I never will forget him as long as I live; he will always be to me a man that lived with honor and with an unshakeable faith; to especially have done what he truly believed in, with kindness and love.Grandfather never lived long enough to know that the fate of most of the people he knew and cared about, which many later would be from his own family would die under the same fate as him, to similar or die because of Anti-Semitism, under the Native American Extermination Act or what became known as Islamophobia, to just meeting or speaking to the Israeli monarchy from various religions and walks of life.
The evening after my grandfather’s funeral which was on thw same day, there was a terrible argument between my mother and our US captor. My mother made me go hide because it was so bad. It was thought even from my hiding place, he was going to kill her that day. A short time later she was going to try and escape him, I ran from my hiding place and grabbed on to her right leg with all my strength and would not let go. I pleaded with her not to leave me behind, instead my hands were pried from her leg (my mother did not do it, the captor told my older sister to do so; but she did try to very calm talk to me) and I was forced to bed screaming and crying in utter fear. As to what happened later, I could not hear; but I did see my mother the next day and I was barely 4-years-old.
It did not seem very long after this incident, that our US captor did not allow me to scream or shed tears that he could see or hear; especially when he was torturing me which the beatings were with a wide harness leather belt, for it would get excessively worse and last longer. Long after I was grown (about my early 30's), he would still threaten me with the sight of that belt, but by this time he was using other methods; such as I almost lost an eye once because he hit me in the face with his fist as hard as he could, which I took a beating until my whole self just shook and I couldn't escape, by this time we were in the "Siberia" death camp. I was beginning by this time to try an refuse our ill-treatment, was why he did this to me and my mother was forced to watch.
Another incident occurred, but I was only 5-years-old, my mother, my older sister and our captor was arguing most of the day; but I could not understand what it was about other then it was very loud. It was close to the Christian Easter season, because two times I tried to escape that day and each time I was caught, one problem with being little is your legs can not travel fast. But the second time, trying to decide to go left or right at the corner, across the street in a yard was a giant white rabbit. For some reason, that day after I was caught the second time; what ever was going on stopped because our captor had said, I would keep trying and I do not know why, but he did not hurt me this time. I was wearing my good dress that mother had somehow bought me and carried a little purse that mother had gave me, which inside was what I thought I would need.
When I was 12 or 13 years-old the situation was so bad, that I had tried to escape several times; but was threatened that something very bad would happen to me if I did not cease. During this time, I was told that I was suppose to sleep in the yard, without food or anything; but somehow my mother got it to stop. Where we was, it could get rather cold at night.
Until about two years after I was married to my first husband, one could not talk loud or anything that reminded me of what I had been through even to the dropping by accident of a dish. I would go and hide somewhere and beg not to be hurt in the fetal position, which my fist husband wouldn’t do; but tried to help me. From the time I was a little girl until that two years after I was married I had horrible nightmares and was told I would be all over the place when I slept or to my understanding would actually fly off the bed as in a panic. One time after I was first married, I was a sleep sitting on top of my pillows and what was told to me later was I could not be touched, but had to be softly talked to until I awoke. During this time, I began to start healing for the nightmares I do not have so much anymore and have tried to close the horror as one would close a door, because it is so painful.
Just writing what I have, I feel as I did when I was about 8 years or so, kicking a rock dreading to go to the house after school and hoping to not scuff the good shoes I wore for school; for mother would get upset (for shoes were sometimes not easy to puchase for me) and I wish she still could.
Just as a parent during in the European Holocaust would try to give there child a taste of normality, this is what my mother tried to do for years with me; we also, use to play a verbal game called, “What would we do if we where free?” Which we would try to think of the most pleasant things quickly, from our head and sometimes we would smile or find a laugh. It may be the simplest of things, such as walking in a park on a nice day or simply not being afraid. We never were allowed to play games as most people apparently do, one game mother and I use to play because it made her happy; was usually if we had time in the afternoon is to play Solitaire and as some might think it different, just to find someplace too be alone to talk which would cheer us up. I still kind of chuckle sometimes, because she would say that man has troubles understanding me no matter how small the discussion, but that I never did. The talks usually had to do with her unhappiness, especially in Siberia; for she felt she would never leave alive or when she told me she felt sick (our US captor had poisoned her by then) and yes, my mother was a Sephardic Jew and an Israeli national. As to my grandparents, my grandmother Dora was a Sephardic Jew and my grandfather Ezra(nicknames: "Ezie" or "Ez," by my grandmother) was Muslim; they both where born in Jerusalem, Israel; just as the same background as my great grandparents.
I happened to remember a true story that is a good object lesson about relationships of Jews and Muslims from my country, that my mother told me. My grandparents had four sons and no girl. My grandfather had his heart set that the next baby just had to be a daughter and the fifth child did turn out to be a girl. But my grandfather was so excited, that for about a month or two he kept forgetting her name; he was just so happy to see her. Many photographs of him that I have seen, you usually see some stage of growth with my mother; Zaytuna (Olive) until about twelve or so, my favorite is mother was only 8-years-old and he has his arm around her shoulder and her arm around side, in front of the family car. My grandmother and my mother never really got over it, when the US murdered him; about 1960. I have been told I saw him twice before he was killed, but only remember one time; for I was shyly peeking from around my mother holding unto her skirt and he thought I was beautiful. This was just before my mother was diagnosed with Rheumatic Fever and I was only 2-years-old; prior to this day for a time we had been living in isolation (a place in Washington state, from the time I was a young baby until 2-years-old) and I was not used to seeing people, let alone a room full at my grandmother's older three bedroom (The front bedroom was for special vistors, I slept in there two times; whle staying with her as a little girl. Some other times was the middle bedroom, for the back bedroom was hers and it was the smallest of the three rooms.Usually, she and I were the only ones allowed in the front bedroom, it was decorated very feminine; while I thought it was beautiful, the bedroom felt nice especially for little girl. But one thing, my grandmother never owned a television, she did not like them. She did love to listen to old records of the “classics” on a radio, phonograph combination that looked as though it should be in a museum; but the sound when she could get it to work, was amazing. This was my first introduction to classical music, with old style records; the ones in the square boxes, with tan colored paper sleeves.) white house, with the big tree in the front yard in Pomona, California; where the old neighborhood use to be and is no more.
Then over the years, so many innocent people have been cold-blooded murdered or assassination (to unmerciful torture, forced labor) especially from the old neighborhood and over the years beyond, that the blood would be as the Red River coming over its banks and the man that had did this and is said still does this [ Update: he died considered a wicked man of a US created induced heart attack (murder) on 2 October 2009, at the age of 87; I was told (When the wicked perish there are shouts of joy.- Proverbs 11:10); he was also involved in global terrorism as well as murder and from my understanding was wanted by Interpol]; was grandfather’s oldest son working for the US government, at times with the collaboration of my older sister; who is considered dead for that which she has done in her life.
As to Khaled Meshaal (a renegade and those associated with him, which they are not the nonexsitent Hamas), he is nothing to the country of Israel; this man is under the same guidelines as my older sister; he is considered dead. He should be considered a traitor towards everything concerning the country and is a collaborator with the US Government. Furthermore, I happened to know his grandmother and grandfather would have been very ashamed of him; as well as his great-grandparents.
Also, many have died due to the political situation in Israel over the years or the continuation of the realms of the Holocaust (Christian, Jewish and Muslim) and with these religions trying to stop the now past 110 year war within the country; all this imposed upon by the US government with the intention of complete genocide of these faith’s, even now beyond Israel to full global extermination by any means conceivable.
The Wind and the Lion
In remembrance from my childhood on into adulthood, of the extraordinary people that I actually have had the opportunity to have known, who while some where to survive the Nazi Concentration Camps during the 1930's unto the 1940's under a situation created by Germany's Adolf Hitler and the United States' former US President Franklin D. Roosevelt, in collaboration; to those that lived from the beginning of the previous war at home and those over the years that did become martyr's for the sake of home, family, truth, faith and for love. These people were not ordinary people, but amazing in to many ideal's, with the utmost repect and admiration; that even now my memories are still in awe of these people, with there warm kindness and the fact it was a pleasure for me to even have had them as apart of my life.
To those I have came to know even into adulthood, I can honestly say; I am grateful to know they are there, even with the thinking of standing in my Grandmother Dora's front yard with a warm happy smile and a wave.
Former US President Theodore Roosevelt at home, in 1912.
By yet, the greatest sorrow is the religious persecution and racism still being perpetrated against a people with the two faith's of Judaism and Islam; with the continued attack upon my country from those who started this crime from the beginning with the anti-semantic hostility and the Middle East oil greed of former US President Theodore Roosevelt, to over time take into their fold collaborators to further their hideous crimes; especially within Israel for instance during this current time and previously with the Nazi regime.
One hundred and ten years ago the name of the US criminal military, political war operation was called, “The Wind and the Lion” and since that day; the US government has not just committed grave unpardonable insults and injustice to Israel and her people, but the Middle East, the two religions of Islam and Judaism, to furthermore; my family from the beginning of time, which includes all the Prophet's.
The inhumanity towards all of this, while it yet goes unpunished; for all the blood spilt and the numerous forms of destruction perpetrated towards the whole of an ancient people and it is yet to wonder when the US will have to stand for these heinous crime’s towards humanity.
But yet, the sure footedness of the lion remains and will do so until the very end of time; as to the wind it will eventually dissipate, if not by human justice; by Allah (Hashem) Himself in severity, as He has done before -as truth will still be standing, long after the Angel's stone has became silent-for this is just a delivery of a message, of He to call (them) to account.
As the holocaust of the truly innocent, goes on…
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