tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55163503629403567922024-03-12T21:35:49.908-07:00My Brother, John..............A Sister's Journey of Love.......
© 2010; My Brother John, A Sister's Journey of Love. All Rights Reserved.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-72001007356870984372018-03-13T20:01:00.002-07:002018-03-13T20:03:48.641-07:00We're Baaaaaaack!<i>Long time since I posted but not forgotten. This post is more for me and John than for anyone else. He's been checking in with me a lot lately in his own special way so...... I'm checking in too. Til next tine.</i>Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-17279144120262798772011-10-30T22:20:00.001-07:002011-10-30T22:20:57.496-07:00We're on the way............ that's all for now.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-60057468550417360472011-10-18T22:24:00.001-07:002011-10-18T22:26:15.768-07:00John...............you did it.............again.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-66496701634820819782011-09-07T22:07:00.000-07:002011-09-07T22:07:59.679-07:00Nothing..................yet.Still pluggin' away...............and not giving up. I suppose anything worthwhile DOES, indeed, take a while. Foolish of me to think it was a "miracle" when I was told John's remains were found so soon after starting this journey in 2009. I've come to realize since that had his remains been actually located, the story would have ended there. John hid himself real well, out there on that Island, so that I would continue with the story - not only his, but those of others. John was, and remains, the stepping-stone for me to get started on another mission, another journey. It may have all started with John, but it will not end with him. That was his plan all along - I'm merely carrying out his wishes.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-43568749887907415412011-08-13T19:35:00.000-07:002011-08-13T19:35:06.328-07:00Checkin' in...............Not much other than John and I are getting pretty damn sick of the Veteran's Administration not granting him a "square foot" or a "niche" so I may bury his remains. What is wrong with these people? What is so difficult that such a simple request cannot be granted? As if burying his piddly little prized possessions is going to hurt anyone. Really? Seriously? Rules and regulations can kiss my ass. Not giving up. I've said this before and I will say it again, if this is the last thing I do before I die, I will have served my purpose on this earth. News @ Eleven.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-76710459460593456682011-07-02T14:07:00.000-07:002011-07-02T14:11:41.051-07:00John gets his first recognition as an Honorably Discharged Air Force Veteran - Phoenix, AZ Glendale Star Newspaper - 5/26/2011<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0jYcTgNIULo/Tg-HdsABsiI/AAAAAAAAAC4/54i62lXZqOw/s1600/Glendale+Star+Arizona+article+May+26%252C+2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0jYcTgNIULo/Tg-HdsABsiI/AAAAAAAAAC4/54i62lXZqOw/s320/Glendale+Star+Arizona+article+May+26%252C+2011.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZWPjg5HxBuA/Tg-H4NQxaxI/AAAAAAAAAC8/JO8zgyJQPGY/s1600/Glendale+Star+Arizona+article+May+26%252C+2011+Part+II.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZWPjg5HxBuA/Tg-H4NQxaxI/AAAAAAAAAC8/JO8zgyJQPGY/s320/Glendale+Star+Arizona+article+May+26%252C+2011+Part+II.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9-w13dq38e8/Tg-H_mJuWrI/AAAAAAAAADA/8VYcZ33uiZc/s1600/Glendale+Star+Arizon+article+May+26%252C+2011+Pix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9-w13dq38e8/Tg-H_mJuWrI/AAAAAAAAADA/8VYcZ33uiZc/s320/Glendale+Star+Arizon+article+May+26%252C+2011+Pix.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've no idea how I was able to post this - I am persistent lol! Click on the article a couple of times to get to a print size you can read.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-22501383991733697932011-05-14T18:03:00.001-07:002011-05-14T18:03:13.058-07:00Taking a break......I'll be back.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-12547886874165534202011-05-10T15:01:00.000-07:002011-05-10T22:36:57.106-07:00A night to remember .................Where do I begin? Such an emotional evening, meeting new people, and those who I've never met paying their respects to John - it was all so surreal. The Glendale American Legion Post #29 Honor Guard, under Bob Hicks, was there to perform the memorial ceremony. George Cushing, retired U.S. Air Force Senior Master Sergeant, past Commander of the Northwest Valley Veterans Association was in attendance; Rev. R. Dale Copsey, Ret. Chaplain, Lt Col, USAF-Ret, a 2007 recipient of the Arizona Veterans Hall of Fame Society from Mesa, Arizona, presided over the memorial service, and many others whose names I cannot recall at the moment, were there to pay their respects as well. These lovely "young" gentlemen took time out of their lives to honor my brother and it was MY honor to meet them and give my own thanks. I was presented with the American Flag - soon to be framed and displayed for all to see. As strong as I purport to be, I boo-hooed through the entire ceremony, tears I've not shed for John for many, many years. It was cleansing. I'm still absorbing it all and, once again, words escape me. The artist, and my friend, Patricia, was so supportive and so "there" for me - I thank her sincerely. To gallery owner, Kristin, my deepest appreciation for allowing this most unusual, and perhaps the "first-of-its-kind" event to take place in her gallery. I will write more but wanted to share with those who visit my blog a brief synopsis of the evening. I hope John liked it.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-87757147982631818342011-04-24T14:25:00.000-07:002011-04-24T14:25:00.799-07:00The past is to be revered............It's said "leave the past behind". While we mustn't live in the past we must, however, remember, recall unfinished business and pay respect to it. This, I'm still trying to do for my brother, John. The past, with John in it, came upon me like a flood of rain and spurned me on to do all I can to pay my respects to him and honor his memory, to give life back to a young man who has long been forgotten. Or was he? So many are coming together, those who did not know him, to pay their respects and set his spirit free. While there is much I've yet to do for him, he will have his due recognition at the upcoming "A Book About Death" art exhibit in Phoenix, AZ., on May 6, 2011, all thanks to friend & artist, Patricia Sahertian. The local VFW will be in attendance, Taps will be played, a retired Air Force Chaplain will preside over the (memorial) ceremony, and many who did not have a clue John existed will now come to know a little bit about him, will share in the respect he so richly deserved. He's now doing the "happy dance" in a world he now inhabits.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-6505531016073573022011-03-29T13:36:00.000-07:002011-03-29T13:37:13.534-07:00Dear John..............Were you sleepin'? Well, wake up! As you know, lots going on and you're front & center - who would've figured after all this time. Not only do I NOT have the words for those who are helping us, but I've none for you right now. It's beyond my wildest imagination that you should, at long last, be recognized for who you were, who you still are, and who you shall always remain for all eternity - a young, vibrant, intelligent, sensitive, funny & caring young man. God I wish I could physically hug you - I'd never let go. I know you're with me though - refreshing [my] memories, giving [me] new ones and bringing solace when needed most. Oh how I wish I could have given you the same, if only I'd known, if only............... It was not to be that your life on earth would be a very happy or peaceful one but you shall rest in peace very soon my dear brother, I promise you that.<br />
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Bye for now.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-17619448059363071232011-03-24T17:42:00.000-07:002011-03-24T17:43:15.016-07:00Much has happened..........................and I will not repeat it here. I direct you to my other blog - <a href="http://www.hartisland-acryforhelp.blogspot.com/">Hart Island</a> - it's all intertwined. John's smiling. More to come............Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-13854873464832000492011-02-21T22:04:00.000-08:002011-02-21T22:04:12.486-08:00We don't always get what we want in life....................................and so I am accepting John's remains will NEVER be found on Hart Island and my hope to bury his very personal belongings, items that contain his DNA and, therefore, as far as I'm concerned, are him, will not be realized. I am grateful to those persons who have given me alternative directions for me to travel, however, and still honor John's memory and his spirit. I've been in a quandry as these personal items I mention - his military cap, the Bible he carried everywhere, his college papers, handmade wooden chess set, smoking pipe and (tobacco - yes, I've kept that too for 39 years), and other items, are such I WOULD NEVER THROW AWAY! Since the Veteran's Administration will not allow me to bury these items in a little plot of land, or even in a wall crypt (as with ashes), it's been suggested to me to have all his items blessed and have my own "cremation" ceremony, if you will - I have chosen my home fireplace for this release ceremony. I realize I must let go of these items (I've no family to leave them to once I'm gone) and it is not an option to throw anything away - I may donate the chess set to a Veteran's Hospital, however - John would approve. I have received authorization for a memorial ceremony for John at a Veteran's Cemetery in Riverside, California - Riverside National Cemetery - during which there will be a Catholic ceremony performed, the playing of Taps w/2 honor guards in attendance, handing over of the American Flag, and a plaque to be installed on their Memorial/Rememberance Wall. I also plan on playing two songs, one of which was his absolute favorite at the time - "Honky Tonk Women" by the Rolling Stones - curiously, after 39 years, I found that record among many of his personal items - how's that for fate! White balloons will float up through the skies, clouds, stars and, of course, through the heavens - he will know; at long last, he can rest in peace. Arrangements are in progress.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-27464195887928722322011-01-25T16:04:00.000-08:002011-04-24T14:53:03.738-07:00New Year, New Hopes, Taking Action......................<em>It's been a while, huh? Well, sometimes we get to a point where we lose faith, lose our steam, and just feel defeated. I cop to those feelings .............BUT I'm back. I submitted a short story about John last year but received no recognitition - the fact I wrote and submitted it though is a good thing. I share it with you below. Hope you enjoy it.</em><br />
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<em> Death & Faith</em><br />
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<em> A Sister’s Journey of Love</em><br />
<em> All Rights Reserved</em><br />
<em> © 2010 Julie Suzanne Lantz</em><br />
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<em>In the early morning hours of a bitter cold day in January 1972 the crumpled body of a young man badly bruised and beaten is found washed ashore in a New York City park. He is dead. His skull crushed, ribs and elbow fractured, the upper torso fresh with lacerations to his liver, spleen and lung. Who is this young man? What happened to him? How long has he been dead? Where does he belong? Who does he belong to? His identity “unknown”, within two weeks this Honorably Discharged Air Force Veteran was buried a pauper and indigent in the City’s “Potter’s Field” with nothing but a number to identify his remains. The young man, my brother John.</em><br />
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<em>It had been nearly 38 years since my brother’s death and, deliberately, I knew very few details. I didn’t really care to know the circumstances, choosing instead to live in a cloud of denial and semi-awareness with no real acknowledgment. Over the years I did my best not to remember events, our times together, limited as they were, and when asked if I had any siblings, I would say “yes, a brother, but he died long time ago”. I would get the usual “oh I’m sorry” and my response would always be the same, “that’s okay.” Shame on me! Life intervened and fate landed on my doorstep; the time had come for me to learn about John’s death and, more importantly, his life. </em><br />
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<em>Happy New Year 2009! It would prove to be quite eventful. In mid-January, I connected with a couple of friends of my brother through Classmates.com – friends I had never met. I’d been a member but hadn’t visited the site since I joined a couple years earlier and, for some reason I logged on, don’t ask me why. I noticed there were some messages, but one caught my eye immediately. “If anyone knows the whereabouts of the sister of John Turner, please call….” – the message was sent in 2007. My heart stopped, I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I immediately called. </em><br />
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<em>Over the next several months, Michael, Susan and I communicated almost daily sharing stories about John. I told them of his joining the Air Force in 1967, his diagnosis of schizophrenia in 1969, his departure from Los Angeles to New York in May 1971 and his death in January 1972. I also told them where John was buried. We exchanged pictures of John as a little boy, teen and young man, and shared stories of our families. We were all learning something new. The more we communicated, the more I thought about John. And the more I thought about John, well, let’s just say, from that moment on I knew he had found a way to let me know, “I’m here”. </em><br />
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<em>And so like Dorothy of the Wizard of Oz I set out to walk my own “yellow brick road” and a journey began…….. for John (or so I thought). For me, the most important first step was to finally acknowledge John’s death was not okay. It was not okay my brother, barely 24, was taken from life. It was not okay he was buried in a Potter’s Field. It was not okay we didn’t get the chance to know one another as adults, not to mention barely as kids. I’m learning his life was difficult and his heart heavy. Again, not okay. And, it was not okay his brilliant mind was reduced to delusional thoughts and his speech and written words nonsensical. Schizophrenia will do that. None of it was okay! </em><br />
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<em>How do I start and where do I begin? Life intervened yet again and coincidences came knocking at my door. Or was it fate once again? If ever I did not believe things happen for a reason and in their own good time, I began to believe. While in the process of moving in March 2009 I found John’s military file and another regarding his death – files I hadn’t seen in over 20 years and totally forgot existed, files that would help in my quest to know my brother better. I also found one of John’s favorite songs - one he’d play endlessly - a 45 record of “Honky Tonk Women” by the Rolling Stones. I began reading, searching and learning and my quest to bring John home, both physically and spiritually, began. </em><br />
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<em>The tragic end came on a cold wintery night in January 1972 when John committed suicide by jumping off the 143 foot high Triborough Bridge (now the Robert F. Kennedy), a collection of three bridges connecting the Burroughs of Manhattan, Queens & The Bronx through Randall's & Ward's Islands. He was found washed ashore on Ward's Island. Also on the Island, the psychiatric hospital John called home for nearly the last six months of his life.</em><br />
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<em>I can’t even imagine what kind of mental or emotional state a person must be in to think jumping off a bridge is the only answer. Could you? Having been diagnosed schizophrenic in 1969, I can only guess John was having a psychotic moment, couldn't stand the emotional pain, and didn't see another way out. It’s important to consider his state of mind and understand while in the throes of great depression and other mental ailments consuming him, he was not thinking of anyone or anything and his main and only objective was to stop the emotional pain. He didn’t even realize what he was about to do was permanent, irreversible, no coming back, no turning back. There was no "Take 2" and no changing his mind. When you hear voices egging you on to do the unthinkable, you don’t stop to ask questions, you do it. It’s said suicide is the ultimate selfish act, leaving behind loved ones with no answer to the question, "why?" Is it really selfish or a form of self-protection? Unless you’ve walked in similar shoes, who’s to say?</em><br />
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<em>John’s death was always thought to be a homicide - the police told me so in 1972 – so when I found out the truth 38 years later it was a complete shock. My heart cracked a little more to know he chose to take his own life in such a punishing way. His poor little body was battered and bruised, broken bones and fractured skull. This is death at its worst. He was wearing blue "dungarees", a yellow shirt, green socks, brown lace up shoes and brown "suit" jacket. And, he was wearing his black horn-rimmed glasses, the kind "Clark Kent" wore. If only he was Superman and could have flown above & over that bridge…….. to safety.</em><br />
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<em>What is schizophrenia and how, when and why does it attack? Simply, wires in the brain aren’t plugged into the proper outlets. You don't understand what's happening to you but you do know something's wrong. You hear strange sounds coming from the radio and television and hear more voices than there are people speaking. Like a shortwave radio, your brain intercepts these strange sounds, all garbled together. You're the only one who can hear these sounds. They are loud and louder and become even louder until you can no longer stand it and must act. Could you imagine this being your normal state of mind? Most people can’t even stand the constant drip of a faucet let alone strange voices and sounds from another world. Schizophrenia strikes most often in the late teens and early 20's and strikes more males than females. John was barely in his 20’s when he became ill. And while there are no definitive explanations for its cause, there are theories a traumatic event can trigger the illness. </em><br />
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<em>After graduating high school in June 1966 John enlisted in the Air Force and it was during the induction process John was told by the Air Force Chaplain our father had died nearly 6 years earlier – suicide by hanging – when he’d been told for years, as was I, that dad was alive and well and living in Cleveland, Ohio. Being nearly six years older, John had the closer relationship with our dad and was more deeply connected than I - by the time I came along, our parents were divorced. I’ve pictures of dad with an itty-bitty John and the connection, love and father-son bond is obvious. John definitely loved his daddy! This life-altering news, news I couldn’t even imagine coming from a stranger, sent John into a downward spiral from which he never returned. And, thus, was born the “traumatic event”. Knock, knock. Who’s there? Schizophrenia, come on in.</em><br />
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<em>John was born in Sunching, a little German village in Bavaria, on </em><em>October 23, 1947 and died in a big city known as the "Big Apple" on January 19, 1972. His life in between was not an easy one but he lived it the best way he knew how. He was the typical older brother and I the typical younger sister, always pestering him, wanting to hang out with him and he always wanting to be with his friends. I can still hear him calling down to his friends in the street, “Can’t, have to watch my little sister". He was a loner, keeping to himself, thinking his thoughts and probably plotting what he would do when he grew up. Time went by and we both grew up, at least physically. Family circumstances did not allow us to live together continuously or to really know one another as I believe siblings should. We may have grown up with “Leave It to Beaver”, “My Three Sons” and “The Donna Reed Show” but we weren’t raised by those families. Ours was more like “The Fractured Fairytale” vignettes of the Rocky & Bullwinkle Show.</em><br />
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<em>John began living his life in New York City, a place he always wanted to visit, having left home in May 1971. He never came back! I’d learn he was not living his life at all but instead was in a psychiatric hospital in Manhattan…………… living someone else’s. Although I didn’t know it at the time, he’d been in and out of various facilities since his diagnosis in 1969. As a sixteen year old, I knew he wasn’t well but never told the extent of his illness. Looking back, I remember him sitting in his favorite chair in the corner of the living room smoking his Marlboro cigarettes and listening to his music through headphones…….. for hours and hours and hours. I now wonder what he was really hearing through those headphones. Was the music even playing?</em><br />
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<em>I’d also come to learn John had only been in New York for little more than a month when, in a moment of lucidity, he realized he was not well and committed himself to Bellevue Hospital in June 1971. He would remain at Bellevue until July 1971, when he transferred to the Dunlap-Manhattan Psychiatric Center in July 1971. There he would remain until his death. </em><br />
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<em>John would never know a true adult world or a life free from destructive forces –“May the force be with you” didn’t apply for John for his were unkind and deadly. He would never marry, never have children or grandchildren. He would never again play his favorite board game of chess. He would never reach that goal of being a journalist. Gosh, he sure would have loved the technologies of computers, IPods and cell phones. And, some would say he would never know how his kid sister turned out in life either. Wrong! John, in fact, does know about me - I just never had the faith to believe he’s been riding the roller-coaster of life with me. I’m learning though, and each day I believe just a little more. And, that belief does bring me some comfort and peace and a sense of safety and security; knowing that by holding John’s spirit within my heart, I will never be alone. Believing John is with me heals my heart.</em><br />
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<em>He never saw combat, was never stationed in a danger zone, and did not die while serving his country. He was at war though……….. with the demon soldiers who invaded his mind in 1969, marching across his brain like boots trampling through deep rivers of mud. He lost his battle and ultimately the war in 1972. His war was not popular or news worthy - no “News at Eleven” - and very few knew of his war. So for being the hero that he was, for fighting his own personal battle in his own personal combat zone, he deserves a Purple Heart for courage under fire and the spiritual wounds he received from the bullet that struck his brain. And because he’s been in the dark far too long, he must be illuminated, to always shine brightly, another star in the sky. I will make sure of that.</em><br />
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<em>Had John lived, he’d be 62 years of age. What would he look like? Would he be bald? Would his stature have shrunk through the years? Would he still be smoking? Would he still be playing chess? Would he have become the journalist he always wanted to be? I will never know. I will always have the memories of who John was though, not who he might have become, and I choose to remember him as the inquisitive young soul his childhood pictures reflect who, while not known to anyone, was not meant to be on this earth very long. </em><br />
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<em>So, the question remains, why now, after so many years? The contact with his friends in January 2009 definitely put me on a journey I’m convinced John has been leading me through. There’ve been too many coincidences for me to ignore and it’s all become crystal clear to me - John’s been waiting to come home. He knew the time was right and burst into my consciousness like that bull in the china shop. He’s been behind me and above me, pushing and poking and sprinkling his angel dust upon my head ever since. So, when asked “why”, the answer’s the same – that my brother is flying around up there, flapping his angel wings, and telling me “okay, it’s been long enough, time to bring me home now”. John’s spirit has done a lot of hard work over the years so that I may finally see him, feel him, recognize him and get to know him better. This time I will not ignore him. And, you know, I think he just got tired of wandering around the after-life, alone, scared and feeling unloved, uncared for, and given very little thought. His little wings must be tired. </em><br />
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<em>Life surely does work in mysterious ways so don’t ignore the road signs it puts in your path. You never know who or what may be trying to reach you. </em><br />
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<em>And, like Dorothy, my goal is to reach “The Emerald City”. For now, I’m still in the land of those evil, flying monkeys. The journey continues.</em><br />
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</em>Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-25723263920958092282010-06-16T22:44:00.000-07:002011-04-24T14:51:05.978-07:00I am my brother's keeper................John, you keep bringing good things into my life. I love you forever and will not allow your flame to die. I'm so sorry it took me so long.<br />
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xoxoxo<br />
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Your sisterJulie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-66012141492919200792010-05-15T11:56:00.000-07:002010-05-24T20:53:00.082-07:00Inspiration comes in the most unlikeliest of ways...........Well, have finally completed the short story and it's out there just waiting to be recognized. I'm still amazed how my writing life has progressed since John burst into my life in January 2009. He's given me real purpose and a faith in myself I never thought existed. He is a true inspiration! I think he's channeling himself through me - he wanted to be journalist and did very well in the journalism classes he took - all A's & B's. Sadly, he never got to fullfil <em>his </em>dream but maybe he is............through me. It's my pleasure and an honor to have my brother as my inspiration and I hope to do him proud! I hope someday I will reach the point where I can actually feel his arms around me and the warmth such an act as a simple hug can give. I wish I could give John a hug now; that's a downside of the spirit world - to never feel that actual physical warmth again.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-55474224934896549582010-05-02T19:53:00.000-07:002010-05-24T20:49:00.270-07:00Taking a break............but not forgetting John for one second. In the process of writing short story for writing competition - the subject matter: John, of course! Wish me luck.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-59364059454492201852010-04-13T20:19:00.000-07:002010-04-13T20:21:52.891-07:00A Little Boy with a Bobby Pin in His Hair.........John @ age 4<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dF6RoAtwRF8/S8Uz_wW7khI/AAAAAAAAABw/KYaAwcDgarc/s1600/01-18-2010+04%3B24%3B54PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dF6RoAtwRF8/S8Uz_wW7khI/AAAAAAAAABw/KYaAwcDgarc/s320/01-18-2010+04%3B24%3B54PM.JPG" wt="true" /></a>Couldn't you just pinch his little cheeks? xoxo to John</div>Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-50092148345260048702010-04-11T18:11:00.000-07:002011-03-03T15:33:40.927-08:00In his own words............The Random Thoughts of a Man Under the Influence …………..Of Mental Illness<br />
<br />
John had thoughts all day, every day, and would makes notes on whatever piece of paper he could find. His Bibles are filled with margin notes, agreeing & disagreeing with the words of the Good Book; most are just thoughts. The notations below are dated within the period of 1969 and March 1971 - his last - and are just a glimpse into the mind of a young man whose thoughts actually killed him - nothing overly reflective of his illness but ill all the while. John’s words are written just as he wrote them. I don’t think he’ll mind my sharing with you.<br />
<br />
1/23/69 <em>“To succeed in life, one must have no conscience”.</em><br />
<br />
1/23/69 "<em>My ideas are like the stock market. Up and down”.</em><br />
<br />
1/23/69 “<em>The real enemies of mankind: </em><br />
<em> 1. poverty; 2. ignorance; 3. hunger; 4. disease”. </em><br />
<br />
1/27/69 <em>“An individual smoking 1 ½ packs a day may,</em><br />
<em> but more likely will, develop cancer (lung & throat).</em><br />
<br />
1/3/70 <em>“I will sue the V.A. for $12,514,248.98 starting</em><br />
<em>3 Jan 70”.</em><br />
<br />
6/30/70 <em> “Presented to myself in the hopes of discovering</em><br />
<em> what happened 25 Jan 1969 in Smyrna, Turkey”</em><br />
<br />
<strong>Note</strong><em>: </em>John was stationed in Turkey in 1969, where he became ill and ultimately diagnosed with schizophrenia; he was honorably discharged shortly thereafter (5/21/69). This notation was made in the <strong>"New English Bible”, Second Edition (1970)</strong><br />
<br />
9/5/70 <em> "All knowledge begins with Fear of the Lord".</em><br />
<em> </em><br />
3/27/71 <em>“You have all the answers, John. Become stoic. </em><br />
<em> Never show emotion”.</em><br />
<br />
The End.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-89547980080899285452010-04-06T19:57:00.000-07:002010-04-06T19:57:25.613-07:00Quote for the day.................Honor Life by Living.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-24066375012370551192010-03-30T19:56:00.000-07:002010-04-05T14:10:45.084-07:00A Troubled Mind..........What is schizophrenia and how and when does it attack. I've read quite a few articles on the illness so ask me if I understand a single medical word written - no! I have read enough, however, to explain in layman's words, the words of a sister trying to understand what really killed her brother, what it is. True, John took his own life, and in the worst way possible, but no one can convince me that it was <em>his </em>choice or that his sensitive nature would allow him to choose to leave this world with so many broken hearts left behind and so many questions to answers that will never come. I strongly believe it was the demons of his illness that took over and told him to "jump". And, unless you have walked in the same shoes as he, those demons are very powerful - you do what they tell you and don't stop to ask questions. Schizophrenia, basically, is the crossing of wires in the brain where you do not and cannot think like others. You wonder why, you ask questions, and don't understand what's happening to you, but you <em>know</em> something's not right. You hear voices coming from various outlets - the radio, the t.v., hear other voices in a group of three; your brain is sort of like a shortwave radio where you can hear all kinds of voices and sounds. And, you're the only who can hear these voices and noises. These voices and noises are loud, and then they become louder, and louder and more loud, until the person can no longer stand it and must act. Could you imagine that happening to you, in your normal state of mind - hell, most people cannot even stand the constant drip of a faucet let alone voices and noises from another world. And on top of that, the voices and noises do not make sense, not like a normal conversation between two people. I cannot even imagine. While the illness can attack in the ages of 30's & 40's, late teens and early 20's is when schizophrenia most often strikes. In John's case, it hit when he was barely in his 20's. There are some theories that a traumatic event can trigger the illness - for John, I believe this was the case. How do you think you'd react if, after nearly 6 years you were told your father was dead & that he killed himself. And imagine you thought your parents were merely divorced all those years - which is devastating in and of itself to a child - and that your father was living someplace in Cleveland, Ohio. And imagine this information coming to you from someone other than your mother, or any family member for that matter - a stranger. And imagine you're far from home when you get this information and that you're in a place where you cannot come and go freely, to just get on a plane or bus and go home to talk things over with................ someone, anyone. And, imagine you've just joined the Air Force and then you're given this devastating news. And this................. was the "traumatic event" that changed my brother's life..................forever. I have to go now 'cause I'm upset.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-33486076399277848322010-03-19T20:58:00.000-07:002010-03-19T21:12:47.049-07:00Meet my brother John - isn't he cute..................<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dF6RoAtwRF8/S6RHi9wCv7I/AAAAAAAAABU/wMGktiCwgIs/s1600-h/1-18-2010+4%3B39%3B24+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dF6RoAtwRF8/S6RHi9wCv7I/AAAAAAAAABU/wMGktiCwgIs/s320/1-18-2010+4%3B39%3B24+PM.JPG" vt="true" /></a></div>Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-20910921797508637212010-03-12T15:49:00.000-08:002010-03-31T09:09:56.373-07:00The Tragic End........for John came on a bitter cold January day in 1972, the 19th, when he committed suicide by jumping off the Triborough Bridge (now the Robert F. Kennedy) in New York City. Triborough is a collection of 3 bridges actually, connecting the burroughs of Manhattan, Queens & The Bronx through Randall's & Ward's Island - he was found washed ashore on Ward's Island. I've tried to figure just how high this bridge is but mathematics is not my strong suit............... I'm sure it is quite high. I cannot even imagine what kind of mental or emotional state a person must be in to think jumping off a bridge, or whatever form of suicide, is the answer. They (whoever "they" are) say that suicide is a selfish way to die, leaving behind loved ones with no answer to the question, "why?" I disagree completely. In my brother's case, he was diagnosed schizophrenic and I can only guess that he was in some type of psychotic moment, heard voices, couldn't stand the pain, and didn't see any other way out. One must consider the state of mind of the person and understand that someone in the throes of great depression, or whatever mental ailment consumes them, they are not thinking of anyone or anything, they're not even thinking of themselves, not really. Their main, and only, objective is to stop the emotional pain they are feeling; they see no other way and, in most instances, don't even realize that what they're about to do is permanent, irreversible, no coming back. Nope, there's no turning back, no "take 2" and no changing your mind. From the time of his death in1972 to November 2009, I thought (as did the entire family when they were still living) that John was murdered - the police told me as much in 1972 - "homicide". Well, apparently not, and you can imagine my surprise when I finally received documentation last year stating the contrary - "suicide". Either form of death, homicide or suicide, is awful but it breaks my heart even more to know he chose to take his own life - and in such a way, oh my god! His poor little body was battered and bruised, broken bones and fractured skull, to name just a few injuries. I can only guess he dove off that bridge because there were no lower body injuries, no broken bones, no fractures, nothing, and all injuries were to his upper body and face. Gruesome and graphic, yes, but this is death in the worst scenario and, for me, I simply must know all the details. He was wearing blue "dungarees", a yellow shirt, green socks, brown lace up shoes and brown "suit" jacket - poor thing, the outfit sounds horrid - and he was wearing his black horn-rimmed glasses, the kind "Clark Kent" wore. If only he <em>was</em> Superman and could have flown above & over <em>that </em>bridge.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-91762056502131074842010-03-10T19:07:00.000-08:002010-03-10T19:07:11.007-08:00Quote for the (my) day............Try to be alive, you will be dead soon enough. <br />
<strong>William Saroyan (1908-1981)</strong>Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-29269966376463204962010-03-08T18:46:00.000-08:002010-03-12T21:27:54.427-08:00It is so true....................."Death is a tragic thing if you haven't lived". Tyler Perry's <strong>"The Family That Preys" 2008.</strong> And therein lies the tragedy of John's death - he never got the chance to live. My heart breaks for him.................or is it my own lack of living I grieve? Another question for another time.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516350362940356792.post-39351310358375241342010-03-05T11:46:00.000-08:002010-03-06T16:04:08.265-08:00John's Brief Life on Earth.........................I firmly believe must not and cannot be for naught. He did matter but all too late was he recognized, especially by his family. It's my mission to correct that major error in my own life. I was talking to a friend last night, telling her bits and pieces of our lives as brother & sister (which incidentally didn't really exist at all) and I realized just how raw a deal he was given. By no means is he exclusive- there are hundreds of thousands whose lives did not turn out right, who died way too young or, worse, died before they were even born, but those stats do not negate the fact that John had a uniqueness and that uniqueness was and is a loss to many, now that he is physically gone for good! I feel the loss of John much more now than I ever did, and I'm learning more about him as the days pass. Some good memories, some not-so-good, but ...............it's so true, we cannot know where we are going if we do not know from where we came. Tough road sometimes but, hey, gotta do it.Julie S. Lantzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02166119255305019014noreply@blogger.com0