Chapter 22

Still, Chuck continues to post, though no one responds anymore:

June

 I am living on propane and a generator in an 18 foot trailer

100 feet away from a 3-bedroom house occupied by a single person on the same property.

Have not talked with them for over a year, almost a year since they cut the power to my       trailer.

Our social assistance network has not found me other accommodation, despite my efforts to rent another dwelling.

59 years old, worked since I was 19, but now on welfare.

living in a trailer in a field, no electric (unless I'm running my generator) - no running water - and yeah - no bath or shower . . .

and FOOD! - how the hell do you eat half decent without a refrigerator??

Poor Chuck, still hasn't come to grips with the fact that he did this to himself. He continues to believe that someone else is responsible for his problems and now he's waiting for someone else to solve them.

Besides, he thinks he's got problems. My creek quit running in July which was rather alarming. So me and Dee Dee hiked up one day to the source, to see if something was blocking it. She insisted on going with me because she doesn't want me hiking out on the property by myself. Some water was still trickling out from the spring but only enough to go down a little way, then it just dried up. I guess this is what happens after a really dry winter.

My well, too, seemed to be running low and I often had very little pressure After a few minutes it would quit running entirely and I'd have to wait about half an hour to get more water. Filling my outside tank took hours, where it used to fill in just 20 minutes. Fortunately, Dee Dee's water was fine so I started getting jugs of water from her.

We had frequent rain showers and my rain barrels collected enough water to keep my garden going. I grew tons of tomatoes and zucchini which I would roast in my solar oven and then freeze. My potato yield this time was 48. The turnips didn't do too well, I only got a few. I grew three nice, big winter squash.

I had bought 12 face cords of wood and spent hours stacking it outside to dry, then moving it onto my porch or into my wood shed. I had about 20 gallons of water stored in the house. Dee Dee and Ellen both took me to Northview to stock up on groceries before winter. So my pantry was full. I found a nifty little single burner stove for $10 that I felt would be handy to have. I had heard predictions that it was going to be a very harsh winter, in more ways than one. I wanted to be prepared.

One preparation was to store a lot of stuff in my barn that had been taking up room in the house. I was tired of having to stack everything on one side of the barn because of all Chuck's stuff on the other side. So one day when he was away I pulled all his crap out and piled it over by his camper. In spite of the fact that he has a shed that he built that is mostly empty, he just let the stuff lay there in the dirt.

The first snowfall came in December and dumped about two feet of heavy, wet snow. I worked at trying to clear it away for a couple of days but my progress was slow. I had to spend a lot of time working in the back so I could get to the woodshed and so the cats would have some place they could go out to. I only managed to open a foot path down to the road in the front.

As much as I hate to ask for help, I finally called Phil to see if he would be coming over with his plow. Turns out the heater in his truck had gone out so he couldn't drive it with no way to defrost the windows. On top of that, the 4-wheel drive on his ATV was also gone and he was waiting on a part. He didn't know when he'd be back on the road again.

The next morning I was at my computer and I heard a truck outside in my driveway. I thought Phil must have worked things out. But I looked out and saw the guy driving the plow truck was someone I had never seen before. I quickly called Phil and asked if he had sent someone over to help me. Nope.

Well, good grief. I got into all my outside clothes and managed to get out there just as the guy was finishing up. I caught up with him at the road and thanked him about 10 times and told him he was an angel. He told me he didn't usually just go in and plow without being asked, but he had seen me trying to cope with that mess for a couple of days and he decided he was just going to go ahead and do it. Merry Christmas!

I got to thinking about this. I had never seen the guy before. He was wearing a red jacket and had long white hair and a white beard. Oh my. It was Santa!

On Christmas day Dee Dee and I went to the nursing home where Ellen works and helped to hand out gifts. We would take the gifts to the folks and read the card and then help them to unwrap their presents. It was lots of fun, very poignant, and three hours passed by very quickly. Then we all headed over to Phil's for some snacks and Christmas cheer. It was quite a lovely day.

It snowed and snowed throughout January, but I managed to keep it shoveled out all by myself. I kept my fire going and my house toasty warm. I cook most of my meals on the wood stove, plus I always keep several gallons of water heated on top of the stove. Towards the end of the month I saw the weather forecast on the internet said it was going to clear up for a few days, and get very, very cold. Twenty below zero cold.

I got up one morning, the fire had gone out and it was minus 22 outside. I got the fire started again then went to fill the cats' water dish, and nothing came out of the faucet. Damn. I turned on the electric heaters to try to help things thaw, wherever it was they were frozen. With the sun shining outside and all the heaters and wood stove going inside, I got it up to 80 degrees inside by afternoon. But still no water.
 

Fortunately I had all that stored water, so life went on pretty much as usual for a few days. Then I used the water all up and still had nothing coming from my taps. So I decided I had to make that dreaded trip to the basement to see if I could figure out what was going on.

When you're on a well you have to have a pressure tank to push the water up into your pipes. My pressure tank was only a few years old now. Chuck's supposed plumbing supplies were STILL all in the same place.

I looked at the gauge on the tank and it said 100 pounds, the maximum. Uh oh, not good. It should be about 40 pounds. What to do? Get on the internet. Soon enough I found someone to tell me where the pressure relief valve was and things I might try. So I did all that plus put down a space heater to blow on the intake pipe in case it was frozen there. Still nothing. Every other day I would fill my toboggan with jugs and pull them across the road to Dee Dee's and get more water.

One afternoon there was a knock on my door and I was surprised to see Lisa. She invited me to come over and meet Ian, a good friend of theirs who had moved from town here long ago but always came back to visit over the holidays. He knew all about Chuck and had long wanted to meet me.

“Well, I'd sure like to meet him, too, but he's going to see me at my absolute worse. I haven't had running water here for weeks so I'm kind of funky.”

“Oh, don't worry about that. Heck, he can probably even help you with whatever is wrong.”

“Sounds good to me. Give me a few minutes to brush my teeth and change and I'll be right over.”

  

So I met dear, sweet, cute Ian. Same age as me, divorced for many years, he now lived way over on the west coast. But he always wanted to come back to Whispering Springs, where he was born and raised. He and Jack had been best friends since childhood. I explained my water problem and he said he'd come over in the morning and look into it for me. We ate Christmas cookies and had a few drinks. Then he walked me home and we shared a big hug in the moonlight.

He came over the next day and we spent hours draining pipes, turning things off and on again, blasting the heater here and there. Finally I had running water again. Not only that, I had more water pressure than I'd had for a long, long time. I was very happy.

He told me, “No charge, this time.”

I told him that when he returned in the summer, which he said he planned to do, I would fix him a big picnic lunch. He agreed, then we went back up to Jack and Lisa's and talked and drank beer and had a pleasant afternoon. He walked me home again with one more big hug; he left the next day. I do hope I see him again.

 

Chapter 23

A couple of days later the temperature was just below freezing; I turned on the water and once again nothing came out. Sigh. I'll survive, but now I will also call a plumber. People had recently told me about a new plumber in town. Our other plumber was a guy who decided he'd rather drink than plumb, so I was happy to know we now had a new option.

This month I have spent more time in my basement than I have in all the years previous. The ceiling down there is low, so you always have to crouch if you're over five feet tall. It's hard on the back. My new plumber is short, like me, and he knows what he's doing. He determined that the switch and gauge were both fried, due to how they had been set up all those years ago. He had his helper run to town to the hardware store for new parts. Within an hour I had real running water throughout my house, just like it was long ago. I am really feeling buyer's remorse now, Chuck.

I'm not the only one having problems these days. Dee Dee is having some health issues so she doesn't get out much. Ellen is having problems at work and is highly stressed. Phil still has problems with his truck. So I was homebound for a while .

Chuck seems to have lost his computer. I noticed in November the few times that I saw him post something online, it was at a time when he was definitely not out here. So I would guess he was going to the library to use the computers there.

February's end, I am finally able to get to the grocery and then over to Phil's for a visit and some supper. Phil has got the heater working in the truck again, though the ATV is still no go. It was a good time and I came home with leftovers.

A hamburger! I haven't had a hamburger since last summer. They had grilled some a few days earlier and had put a few in the freezer, so I got one. I put some onion and canned tomatoes on it, and a slice of cheese. What a treat!

The morning after I was at Phil's I looked out my kitchen window to enjoy the view. Chuck's old camper is part of that view and I see this scrawled on the side of his camper, in black marker:

COONS'S

CAT

CRAPPER

BELLE -------------l

MICK --------- l     l

                   v    v

There are arrows pointing all over which I couldn't exactly replicate here. Wow. He must have had quite the stressful day to make him act out like a 12-year-old. Yes, dear, cats poop outside. And they have more right to be on this property than you do. Graffiti, at age 60? You know,  being young at heart and being immature are not the same thing. Now you're doing it wrong.

 

I'm not entirely sure what to make of that first word. Raccoons? One friend who saw it said that long ago it was a slang term for a lady's private parts. It's also a derogatory term for people with dark skin. I sure hope that nice, young black man who rides his horse up and down the road can't see it. I do think maybe it's a lame attempt to spell my birth name. The stupidity it reveals is rather stunning.

I'm happy to report, though, that this doesn't stress me out hardly at all. A few deep breathing exercises and I was actually able to laugh at it. Then I considered going over and writing on the side that he sees from his window, “Shit happens.” But I decided not to stoop to his level, and I've just let it be. 

It rained about a week later, and all the words got washed away. Then, a  few days after that, as I went out for the mail, I saw he had painted, with dark blue paint, the words, "Illegal Immigrant" on the end of the trailer which is visible from the road. There was an arrow pointing at my house.

Well, I had this bottle of blue nail polish, left over from an old art project, so I used it to cover the word "immigrant," and change it to occupant. Then I painted an arrow towards him.

Cherylann Thomas, in her book, Evil Eyes: A Daughter’s Memoir, says "Psychopaths are more impulsive than malignant narcissists and are less able to pretend to conform to society’s rules or portray a mask of normalcy."  She also states that she believes psychopaths hurt people on purpose for the sheer enjoyment of it, whereas malignant narcissists’ abuse is more a consequence of their selfishness. 

Chapter 24

I just found out that Chuck is in trouble with the police. A couple of months ago he quit driving his truck and started taking a bicycle to town. I have now learned from friends that he had thousands of dollars worth of traffic tickets outstanding and they finally caught up with him. He doesn't seem concerned about it though. Evidently he won't go to jail over it because there just isn't enough room in jails now. They will just let him pay it off however he can. So he wins again.

I have continued my online studies and believe that Chuck has now advanced from a personality disorder into full blow psychosis.

Martha Stout, a clinical psychology instructor at Harvard Medical School and author of The Sociopath Next Door, says psychopathy is an utter lack of conscience. Sociopaths have one, but it’s full of holes and works on their own set of rules. Narcissists have one, too, but are so self-interested it’s hard to tell. "What distinguishes [psychopaths] from the rest of us is an utterly empty hole in the psyche, where there should be the most evolved of all humanizing functions," she says.

 

In real life, psychopaths can only be diagnosed by professionals. But, say the experts, there are a few clues.

• Pity play: Psychopaths play on people's sympathy because we are compassionate and believe they deserve it. "Consistently bad or egregiously inadequate behaviour with frequent plays for your pity is as close to a warning mark on a conscienceless person’s forehead as you will ever be given," says Martha Stout, a clinical psychology instructor at Harvard Medical School.

• Manipulative: “Psychopaths love to make people jump, even if it’s not to their benefit," says Stout. "If you’re left wondering why, or thinking there was no sense in what happened, that’s a red flag."

• Parasitic: Whether they use charm and manipulation or the pity play to meet their needs, "they prefer living off the work of others rather than their own efforts," says Robert Hare in Vancouver, a world authority on psychopathy.

• Deceitful: Big or little, deception is a tool of their trade. "Their lies are always woven with a thread of truth," warns Hare, "which, if questioned, they indignantly point out in their own defense."

• Charming: Compelling and charismatic, psychopaths are mesmerizing, like predators before the kill.

• Conceited: Psychopaths "think they’re the next step in evolution," says Hare, and they let it show with arrogance, boasting and undermining those around them.

• Not to blame: Not only do they never accept culpability, but psychopaths will also manufacture proof that puts others at fault.

• Reactionary: When it suits them, psychopaths can mask their anger, but will also "overreact in response to perceived personal insults or insufficient demonstration of respect for their authority," explains Hare.

If you know a psychopath you may think your love will cure him. Let it go. Psychopaths are untreatable. "People have a hard time getting their heads around that," says Donna Anderson, a U.S. journalist who launched www.lovefraud.com to educate the public after her husband lied and defrauded her of $227,000. I guess I should be glad I only lost a couple thousand.

Chapter 25

It's 2012 now, and we're still here. “Married.” Not legally or anything, but we're still in each others' lives. I can't get rid of him and he can't get rid of me. Dear readers, be careful what you wish for.

Here are last year's adventures with the psychopath.

One day in early spring, after most of the snow had gone down, I went out to the mailbox. Just as I approached it, it fell over on its face. That was unexpected. I'm glad it fell before I was in front of it, or while the mailman was in front of it. It was quite heavy and the 4x4 wood post had evidently rotted away at the bottom. I turned it over and retrieved my mail. There was something for Chuck in there so I just left it.

Later I saw him go over to it. He got his mail and then spent several minutes looking at the situation. Thinking he might have some interest in helping to get it set up again, I went out and said, “Bummer, eh?” He just looked at me and sneered, and walked away. So I dragged the remains into my back yard and contemplated what to do now.

I decided to go up to Jack's and ask if he had any spare 4x4s so I could build a new post, but he didn't. I called Phil but he didn't have anything, either. So I pulled out my catalog from the local hardware store and found they sell an entire post and box set for $75. Ouch. I called and was told they didn't have any in stock, but they ordered one for me. It would be in the following week and they would call me when it arrived.

Meanwhile, what to do? I needed a mailbox. I looked around at what I had, then gathered a wooden stool and a few boards. I pried the metal box from its perch of 30 years, maybe longer, secured it to the stool and set it up by the road. With the help of some stakes and bungie cords, it seemed quite sturdy.

The next day I went out to meet the mailman when he came by, to explain the situation and ask if this was acceptable, albeit a bit different. He checked it out and said yes, it would work, for a while. What a relief.

A week later I hadn't heard from the store, so I called. They looked it up and told me those were on backorder at the warehouse; one would be here in 2 months. So I got on the internet and found they had them in a Northview hardware store. I called Ellen, told her what was going on, and asked if we could maybe go for a bit of shopping. I would give her $12 for gas.

So, a few days later we went, and we did lots of shopping. We had a great time. The next day I unpacked it all and read the instructions. I still needed a 4x4 piece of wood and a deep hole.

Next day I went out with my little spade and started digging a hole. Jack came by while walking his dog. “Whatcha doing?” I updated him on my project and said what I still needed. Now that he had seen the situation, he said he was pretty sure he had something that would work in his storage shed. He'd be back.

He returned about an hour later with a post, a bucket of tar, and an auger. In no time at all he augered out a hole, poured some tar in it, and set up my new mailbox. I awaited the mailman the next morning to ask if this passed inspection. It did, of course.

A few days later I went to Jack and Lisa's with a six pack of beer. At first they said, no no, we weren't expecting any payment for that. We were just helping out a friend. I said okay then, we'll each drink two and this will just be a nice visit. Which it was.

All summer long, then, Chuck enjoyed the new mailbox, as much as I did. Although, he's never done anything to help maintain it.

My garden that summer was great. I had all sorts of things growing. One day I took a picture of it, in all its glory. The next day I was gone all day, spending the day at Phil's. The next day I went out to pull some weeds and it looked different. I saw missing branches off of some plants. So I took another picture, not sure what happened. Comparing the two pictures on my computer, it's quite obvious that entire branches have been removed. 

The next day, I saw Chuck on Face Book post pictures of my garden, calling it his. The pictures were taken with all the branches still on. The pictures were dated the day I was gone. The next day some branches were gone. Draw your own conclusions.

It was coming on fall then. I decided I really wanted that old truck off my property, along with a whole lot of other scrap metal scattered here and there. I decided to sell it all to a scrap dealer. I went across the road to Jack's to ask if he could recommend someone and he informed me that his son did that.

So I arranged for a pick up. His son came and Jack came over, as well, to help. One thing I wanted removed was an old electric stove that Chuck had tossed over behind my barn 3 years ago. It had been laying there, on its side, untouched, and always in my way for all those years. We each grabbed a corner and the three of us carried it down to the driveway. Chuck was sitting outside as we walked by with it. He said, “That's mine, you know.” 

 

I told the guys to just ignore him as it had been abandoned for many years which legally made it mine now. So, we kept on and eventually lots of garbage got removed from my yard. I got a few dollars for it. 

A week later, Jack was walking his dog up the road and Chuck was out shoveling the new snow from the driveway he uses. Chuck looked over at Jack as he walked by and called him a thief. Now, Jack is a very mellow person, an artist, and this really upset him. So, later that day when his son stopped by to visit, he told him about it. His son doesn't like anyone messing with his dad, so he went over to Chuck's to explain the situation to him. Chuck saw him coming and called the police.

Now, I didn't know about any of this. I was upstairs doing laundry so I didn't hear anything. I came downstairs and looked out the window and saw a cop car in my driveway. WTF? I went to my entry door and saw Jack and his son talking to one cop at the end of my driveway. There was another officer over at the trailer talking to Chuck outside. Chuck was clearly agitated.

That one then walked towards my house and I braced myself for a visit from the police, for whatever reason. But he just said to the other officer, “That guy is a nut bar,” and they got in the car and drove away. 

 

A short while later, I saw Chuck walk through my driveway and he dropped a plastic bag there, close to my door. I thought it was one of the free newspapers we get. So I went out and picked it up.

Through the plastic I could read: “STUFF TO PONDER:

Even the most gentle creature will become vicious, when backed into a corner.”

There were several pages: a picture from the cover of the book, The Sociopath Next Door. This book has some sets of crazy eyes on the cover, and he Photoshopped a picture of my eyes onto there. Because, you know, I am the sociopath. Oy. There was a page from the Tenant's Association about reasonable enjoyment of property. He seems to have that one backwards. Then there was a page of personal information about me that he somehow gathered from different sources which I'm sure made him feel like quite the detective. 

I took it all up to Jack's to show him; that's when I learned about what had happened and why the cops were there. I told Jack about hearing the one say Chuck was a “nut bar.” Yes, we agreed, he sure is.  

Chapter 26

Well, I have certainly learned some huge life lessons here. Thoreau said, “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately.” I understand that now. Living deliberately puts you in deep touch with your soul and the universe.

Now, I certainly don't live exactly like Thoreau did, but since practically everything I do has to be done without the benefit of electricity or gas and with very little money, it all has to be done with great deliberation. Then getting it done gives me a sense of accomplishment like nothing I've ever had before.

Another lesson has been about forgiveness. "Forgiveness is the exercise of compassion. It is both a process and an attitude," claims Joan Borysenko, Ph.D., author of Guilt is the Teacher, Love is the Lesson. Borysenko suggests that the process toward forgiveness is to take personal responsibility for your role in a particular outcome. Accept the past as part of a learning experience. We all have weaknesses. The way we grow is to learn from our mistakes. Look for help from whatever source you respect and then share what you've learned with others. Compassion is contagious. 

 Forgiveness is not a lack of responsibility or action.  It does not mean that we are to be passive and perpetual victims.  To the contrary.  Forgiveness requires great courage, faith, and action.


Holding on to resentment is like drinking poison, and hoping the other person dies.  It is toxic both physically and mentally. This is a medical fact as well.  Many studies have been done on what resentment (or unforgiveness) does to our bodies, including raising one’s blood pressure. Let it go. Besides, if you develop more empathy and more compassion...that will drive them crazy!! Allow yourself to give it up to Karma.

In spite of all I have had to endure here, I know I am really am fortunate compared to others I've read about who have ended up stranded in a different country because of a psychopath. I have read some true horror stories. I know what it's like to live with the fear that you could lose everything you own at any given minute. I now have a real appreciation of what it feels like to be an illegal alien, even though I'm just an American, in Canada.

Chapter 27

The Manitoba Herald , Canada , as Reported by Clive Runnels, August 6, 2010 


The flood of American liberals sneaking across the border into Canada has intensified in the past week, sparking calls for increased patrols to stop the illegal immigration. The recent actions of the Tea Party are prompting an exodus among left-leaning citizens who fear they’ll soon be required to hunt, pray, and to agree with Bill O’Reilly and Glenn Beck.


Canadian border farmers say it’s not uncommon to see dozens of sociology professors, animal-rights activists and Unitarians crossing their fields at night. “I went out to milk the cows the other day, and there was a Hollywood producer huddled in the barn,” said Manitoba farmer Red Greenfield, whose acreage borders North Dakota . The producer was cold, exhausted and hungry. He asked me if I could spare a latte and some free-range chicken. When I said I didn’t have any, he left before I even got a chance to show him my screenplay, eh?”


In an effort to stop the illegal aliens, Greenfield erected higher fences, but the liberals scaled them. He then installed loudspeakers that blared Rush Limbaugh across the fields. “Not real effective,” he said. “The liberals still got through and Rush annoyed the cows so much that they wouldn’t give any milk.”


Officials are particularly concerned about smugglers who meet liberals near the Canadian border, pack them into Volvo station wagons and drive them across the border where they are simply left to fend for themselves.” A lot of these people are not prepared for our rugged conditions,” an Ontario border patrolman said. “I found one carload without a single bottle of imported drinking water. They did have a nice little Napa Valley Cabernet, though.”


When liberals are caught, they’re sent back across the border, often wailing loudly that they fear retribution from conservatives. Rumors have been circulating about plans being made to build re-education camps where liberals will be forced to drink domestic beer and watch NASCAR races.


In recent days, liberals have turned to ingenious ways of crossing the border. Some have been disguised as senior citizens taking a bus trip to buy cheap Canadian prescription drugs. After catching a half-dozen young vegans in powdered wig disguises, Canadian immigration authorities began stopping buses and quizzing the supposed senior citizens about Perry Como and Rosemary Clooney to prove that they were alive in the ’50s. “If they can’t identify the accordion player on The Lawrence Welk Show, we become very suspicious about their age.” an official said. Canadian citizens have complained that the illegal immigrants are creating an organic-broccoli shortage and are renting all the Michael Moore movies. “I really feel sorry for American liberals, but the Canadian economy just can’t support them.” an Ottawa resident said. “How many art-history majors does one country need?”


In an effort to ease tensions between the United States and Canada , Vice President Biden met with the Canadian ambassador and pledged that the administration would take steps to reassure liberals. A source close to President Obama said, “We’re going to have some Paul McCartney and Peter, Paul & Mary concerts. And we might even put some endangered species on postage stamps. The President is determined to reach out.” he said. The Herald will be interested to see if Obama can actually raise Mary from the dead in time for the concert.