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Monday, October 17, 2016


Sunset at the hermitage

In the sunset of my life, I am finding the simplest things most difficult. Getting in and out of bed, for instance, is a production, which is probably why I sleep so often in my recliner. I get a much better, much deeper and more restorative sleep, however, if I sleep in the bed, a bed, I might add, that cost me a fortune and took two years to pay for.

The problem is that, if I DO get a good night's sleep or 8 or 10 hours straight through, I wake with my lower spine and hips frozen in pain if I move. If I just lay there, I am alright. The mornings are beautiful and I can pray the time away, but at some time I have to get up, and this is when the morning comedy show begins.

All the icons appeared to be staring at me while I tried to wriggle myself out of bed one morning. The night before, I had finally put together a rolling bed cart so I could bring the computer into the bedroom on some evenings when the Pope is engaged in some special event and I want to see it on EWTN at 3:00 in the morning or whatever odd time of the early morning it had to be shown, due to time differences around the world. It is an inconvenience, but there is something wonderful about being included in an event as it happens.

The cart was blocking the side of the bed which I customarily use to crawl out in the morning, but it didn't occur to me that I might not be able to get out of bed on the other side.

Feeling very much like Kafka's cockroach, I wriggled and squirmed, trying to find a position that would allow me to exit the bed without wrenching my back and causing even more damage to it. It took a good ten minutes before my feet found the floor, finally, and I began the customary production involved in straightening my back.

It is on day's like this that I am grateful to be living alone, with no one to see my comedic stylings in my one except the Lord, of course.

Please pray for me, as I pray for you.

Silver Rose

Friday, October 14, 2016


Me at 24
Copyright (c) 1978
Silver Parnell

In 1974, when I was 20 years old, I got a job working for an executive at E.F. Hutton. It was a frightening environment. I was the only woman in our office, the rest of them being commodity traders and one executive who ran the department. Many lunch hours, the men would retire to the conference room, draw the blinds closed against the glass partition, and watch pornographic films with the sound turned up really high. The men hooted and hollered, uttering horribly vulgar comments that STILL make me blush, 38 years later.

I was desperate for work. Unmarried, with no helpful family connections, I was alone in the big city of Los Angeles, trying to keep a roof over my head.

One of the men noticed that I was taking the bus home every night and he offered me a ride home. I was too innocent to realize that he had an ulterior motive. It did not occur to me that this elderly portly man with a wispy comb over, someone who engendered daughterly feelings in me, would attempt to force me into having sex with him. Fortunately, I escaped the car with my virtue intact, but the experience shook me, and I began to look for another job.

Shortly thereafter, the head of the department asked me to spend the weekend with him in Las Vegas. I demurred. He fired me. Later, when I tried to get work in the same industry. I found that he had blackballed me and was publicly excoriated when I showed up for an appointment at another investment firm. Before the interview even occurred, the man who was to interview me loudly proclaimed, in a room full of people, that my previous boss had told him I was lazy and stupid and other character assassinations. The eyes of about 20 people were on me, and you could have heard a pin drop. I'm sure my face was flaming red. I couldn't even defend myself, I was so shocked. I turned heel and fled, like a dog with my tail between my legs.

I was humiliated by this experience. It did serious damage to my sense of safety in the world and contributed to the development of some post traumatic stress.

Never did I even mention these experiences to anyone until recently. It has taken me this long to realize that the truth will set me free.

Donald Trump supporters complain that the numerous women who have come forward to recount experiences of being assaulted by Donald Trump have not told their stories publicly until now and that, therefore, they are either looking for fame or money. Alternately, he has accused them of being part of a great conspiracy, either by the Clinton campaign or the media, depending on which speech you hear.

One of Mr. Trump's accusers recounts her experience of being assaulted on an airplane when sat next to him. He now says that the public should take a look at her, that she would not be his "first choice" - insinuating that she isn't attractive enough to assault.  Well, her assault happened right about the time that I was being fired for refusing to spend a weekend with my married boss. Just as I did not make public my boss's outrageous behavior, she did not complain about Trump assaulting her. She knew that if she complained, she would experience retaliation. It happened A LOT in those days.

None of us want the negative attention we would get by bringing these things into the public eye, but when the predator lies in public and says he never assaulted anyone, and he's running for the most powerful job in the world, one's sense of civil duty outweighs the price the victim will have to pay for coming forward.

Silver "Rose" Parnell
(c) Copyright 2016
All rights reserved

Sunday, October 9, 2016


In younger, more innocent years

I have to add one more comment to my last blog post.

Many people on the internet are excusing Donald Trump's behavior and saying things to the effect that no one should judge a person and he's apologized and so we should be good Christians and forgive him and they are going to vote for him, still, after everything we have heard from this man, both recently and in the past.

Some women have been filmed and televised saying that "all men talk this way." All men do not talk this way. Some men do, and I will tell you who they are.

The four (4) adult men who drugged, gang raped me and left me to die in a river when I was 14, they talked that way while they savaged me. The head of the commodities department of a well known but now defunct investment firm who fired me for refusing to go to Las Vegas with him for the weekend when I was 20 years old talked this way. All of my male co-workers at that investment firm who spent their lunch hours locked in the conference room watching pornographic films while they hooted and hollered, they spoke like Donald Trump. The Hollywood producer who refused to hire an actress friend of mine who wouldn't sleep with him in exchange for a television role used to talk that way. The man who kidnapped, tortured and tried to murder me and then chased me across three states when I finally escaped, HE talked that way during the numerous assaults.

I am very familiar with the type of man who lewdly boasts about his assaults and attempted assaults of women.

Donald Trump's attitude and treatment of women has been consistent, from that cringe worthy tape released the other evening, to his disgusting sideways joke about a woman's menstrual period on the stage of the first debate itself. His hateful attitude toward half the population of the world, revealed in his language and actions, is shared by rapists, pornographers and murderers.

The good men I have known in my life do not speak this way.

There are many good men in our country; fine, intelligent men with heart and courage. They do not have to apologize for their treatment of women. I am of the strong opinion that it is THIS type of man that we need in the White House.

Silver Rose Parnell
Copyright (c) 2016

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