Tag: Prose

Ever wonder…

…what would happen if scary people you very purposefully had avoided and since forgotten came back a-knocking? I mean we’re not talking about people you simply don’t like. We’re talking about people who by action and word in your childhood truly defined the baseline for moral and ethical fortitude…

…by failing at it so many times you had to run away from your own mother so she would realize how important it was that you both get the hell away from an abusive asshat.

I don’t “dwell” on this in the least. People (who quite obviously don’t know me from Adam) however seem to have misinterpreted a bit and assumed that my verbose nature when relating to events in my past indicates “dwelling”. To be clear, I obsessively am inclined to write. If I am so inclined to write about my past, present, future, or whatever else, so be it… but this evening, it will be about some truly influential people in my childhood. They get the benefit of my attention and prose 😉

You see, not too long ago, my mother’s ex-husband got himself into trouble…quite repeatedly, and we’re not talking about speeding tickets and jay-walking. We’re talking violation of probation, DUI, attempted manslaughter of a police officer…the list goes on, and that’s only the most recent stuff. My mom hooked me up with some links to his recent activity and woooow. Seems the asshat managed to surpass himself. I blogged about it here at this LINK

Below is a response and some explanation and background on why the discussion occurred and why I felt inclined to respond. I will cook my famous spaghetti for the first person to what I am trying to point out from all this.

# Teresa Spears says:
February 12th, 2009 at 11:22 pm

Maybe you and your Mom should think about praying for Joe rather than slandering his name. I am truly sorry for anything you had to go through as well as your Mom but just as you have problems that you live with apparently, don’t you believe that others may have issues that they live with also. Don’t harbor bad feelings it will only harm you in the end.




…pardon me for a moment…I am trying to keep this clean…but it isnt going to work very well.

Telling us to pray instead of slander. I do pray. I pray every night that no one is ever subject to religious intolerance and prejudice. Every morning I wake and hope that no one must ever lose sleep to religious ignorance…and I don’t hold these prayers like secrets that others should ever hear…I make those prayers my reality, and I am a far cry from being alone in this. As far as I am concerned, my prayers are most often answered.

Do not feel sorry for me, I live well and within my means, am surrounded by friends I could never part with (and I been offered alot to do just that) and my relationship with my family is probably better than it’s ever been.

Again…my prayers are most often answered.

I don’t wish anyone harm, but justice must also be observed, and Joe is in dire need of quite a bit of it.

You’ve mistaken our range of suffering, as well as our depth of forgiveness. If we hadn’t forgiven him…he’d never have had the opportunities he saw fit to exploit in the last few years. Like kidnapping, attempted man-slaughter, assault (multiple)…and that’s AFTER we got the hell out…doesn’t even touch upon what he put my other and I through. Now on that note…to be clear…

He’s long since forgiven AND forgotten (at least for me, I wish I could say as much for my mom)…but don’t ever presume that we should present him one iota of respect…ever.

A little word from my mother…

# Liz Vallee-Martinez says:
February 13th, 2009 at 8:31 am

Well, the evil-doer had two Teresas in his life. Both of them his sisters. I know, I know, two sisters both named Teresa?! Just another indication of the backwoods ignorance flowing through this family. Poor, poor Joe. Forced to live the life of a violent degenerate because he suffered as a child. Yes, Teresa, we pray for him. Mostly, we pray for anyone who is forced to encounter him. I used to think he was this wonderful man who suffered from depression and alcoholism. It took thirteen years for me to learn that the alcohol and drugs just made him stupid. Sober, he was a smart criminal, but still a criminal. Violent, abusive, dishonest, and a danger to any child he comes within spitting distance of. I pray that he spends the remainder of his life in prison. You and your family will be safer for it. If I could talk to Adam’s mother (Adam is the child Joe kiddnapped) I would tell her to sell everything, change her and Adam’s name, and get as far away from Oklahoma as she can. Although, I don’t think anyplace is really far away enough. I am so thankful that I had no children with this devil. Joe Martinez isn’t fit to lick the boots worn by Tony’s father. That’s mean, you say! No, mean is what Tony and I suffered through in the name of marriage and family. I will never forgive myself for bringing this animal into my sons life. And I am so proud that through it all, he became the wonderful man we all know and who his father is now beginning to discover.

Below I’ve included some items of advice, and observance. Lets see who’s getting that spaghetti 😉
1. Read disclaimer on this website.1
2. You jumped the gun…again…and assume you’re in the right.2
3. Stop slandering the word slander…this word does not mean what you think it means.3

Show 3 footnotes

  1. DISCLAIMER: These are my opinions. They represent my views,most often my perspective, and my own angst against everything ignorant in this world. I am not Hemingway, I am one little Italian guy sitting in his living room writing for his own enjoyment, expression etc. If you don’t like what you see or read here, don’t come to the site. Thanks! -Tony Hunt
  2. This lady once seriously tried to exorcise me and burned all my DnD books because she felt they were Satanic. Woman, you have no idea how much of an impact THAT move had on me 😉
  3. In order for it to be slander, it has to be false and defamatory. Since we already have a very clear idea and track record for this person, it would be impossible to further tarnish the proven reputation of a convicted criminal, or alter said reputation by inferring he’s committed more crimes (which he has…it’s true). Nothing referenced here isn’t already documented and sworn public record…i.e. – proven not false.

A Mountain of Unsung Hope

It isn’t about polarities. I think it’s more so a rendition – a snapshot of the world. We all wonder at the complexity, yet cry out from our hearts in empathy for problems most of us will never experience directly. A thin strand of hope that all people hold tightly that same foundation we find in ourselves granting the strength to live…to love…to hope.

I have dreams. Not the singular easy dreams, unfortunately my life…my experiences have not granted me the blessing of a narrow point of view. I wonder at the miracle of it all, and am held in thrall of the details. A butterfly effect of thought…seeing an idea through to exodus, if only in my mind. Years spent questioning everything. Not just what I see, but laying said inquiries before a moral gauntlet and an inquisition comparing ethics. Any one person more than an epic, a song to the hearts of all who know them. I’ve spent so much time watching that I’ve rendered myself albeit incapable of experience. Emotion isn’t hard for me, communication and trust are my Achilles’ Heel.

While not above hope and inspiration, of late I’ve spent my day learning about my friends. Loves…hates…heroes and villains. I’ve watched strangers and unknowns in comparison. It’s not far away to state that we’re all just spending our time hoping that we’re not alone.

When played out, these future epics leave me satisfied in hope. Not that I could ever walk away and be confident in the future, but confident in the future that includes me. We’re human, the good, the bad, the ugly. I find myself enamored that what I find in myself as a flaw, or weakness will never yield or become a hindrance in what little inspiration I hope to demonstrate, explain, and impress on those around me.

Rather than place a mountain of unsung hope in the words of a little blog such as mine, in time I intend to give an example, a thought, or consideration to a few people that could do well to impart the same on a few others, in example or word…thus moving forward.

It is for all to complete the Great Work. Each their part, each their role. A “Great Work”…I haven’t used that phrase in a very long time….to sit in thrall of a plan so meager as to allow many to improve the world, make a better place for all of us. This isn’t so big a task on paper, or in a blog…but to take that Work and make a reality of it…death comes light as a feather…duty heavier than a mountain. It is so refreshing to find wisdom in the imagination of those who’ve left us.

Back on track. Not that the idea came from a book or the ramblings of someone long gone, but having the deplorable habit of thinking through to exodus possible relationships, friendships, and most importantly those romanticisms that should by all means fortify me in hope…I find myself standing at a crossroad…struggling…wondering what it is exactly I should try to impress, upon myself just as much as on others.

Weird eh?


Crossing the Bar

Recently some dear friends lost their father, and I had the privilege of meeting him once, stoic, wise, and truly gifted in his wife and children. While I haven’t been in touch with them during the services, I still notice a morbid calm even here. This isn’t the first time I’ve quoted Tennyson, will hardly be the last, and I look forward to referencing him many many times in between. I’ve never really liked anyone seeing me mourn, there is a time and a place for it always, but the truth remains I don’t deal with it very well at all, and force myself to celebrate instead. Years of practice…years of practice…anyhow…how’s that for the first decent post in like a month eh? Oh…and READ THE DAMN POEM!!

Crossing the Bar
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too fall for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face,
When I have crost the bar.