communism

I salute you! Read and you'll know what I'm talking about.

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

When I was a young girl, I thought my parents to be utterly mean for hiding sweets from us. Back then, during the communism era, sweets (or any other material goods for that matter) were rare treasures. Anyone that grew up in a large (or medium, semi-large, somewhat medium, okay even small ones) family knew that sweets, even sugar was something good that happened to you maybe once a year if you were good. (the translation of the word good in this context means if the communist party felt generous enough to allow sweets in the store for longer then ten seconds twice a year, and if they were really generous give one orange per child at Christmas time- which I remember that to have happened two times in nineteen years). For many years during my childhood those were the only times I ate oranges, or to be more specific, one small slice.

Now lets fast forward few years. I find myself not only fully understanding my parents but following in their foot steps as I too hide favorite sweets from the three black holes my grown children seem to posses when it comes to deserts. It’s also the only cleaning they ever do without being asked.

Last night I made another berry cobbler but had none before bed time.(Menopause gives hot flashes when sugar is involved, yes, I’m there and I feel like the world is about to end). This morning I woke up smiling and thinking of that wonderful berry cobbler I made and how good was going to taste with a cup of tea. Instead of cobbler I was greeted by an empty, dirty, pie dish and I remembered yet again why my parents hid sweets from us.

Your family never did that to you? Are you sure? Maybe you haven’t found their hiding spot but believe me, they hid nice chocolates, or candy, pieces of cake or other such things like alcohol, waiting for you to go to bed so they can find a little joy in one glass or two.

Well for those of you who had parents that hid sweets and for those of you who are now hiding pieces of cake or other such goodies from your prodigies, I salute you! Cheers and try not to loose your head before the wonderful Christmas Day;)

God Bless:)

Red-A Philosophical self-talk-

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

I’ve begun reading “The Naked Communist” by W. Cleon Skousen and it’s not an easy task for me as flashbacks from my own experience while living through the last of the communist era, back in Romania, rise up.

I’ll let you know in my up and coming posts some similarities that I see in the America of today and communist tactics I’ve experienced while back home. This is a subject that I would love to capture it with my brother Alin’s philosophical point of view and have a recorded debate on the matter. It would be both entertaining and informative… and done in our native Romanian language. But not yet.

Today, after bleeding for the past 27th days, and clearly a little lightheaded from losing so much blood, I become philosophical:) (I have an appointment tomorrow with gynecology.)

I was truly hoping 2018 to be void of doctors, pain, pocking, needles and medical stress, thus hid the bleeding issue for as long as I could. Thanks to Elizabeth I did end up going to a Zoom clinic and thanks to my mother-in-law’s insistence I finally made a gynecology appointment. I must admit I struggle emotionally. I’m fighting with a Marxist syndrome, a disease in itself, and trying to grasp a truth as seen through my husband’s eyes, a reality built on being born here in America. I like his view so much better than mine, but in reality, it seems to be just a beautiful fairy-tale I like to listen to often. I have changed quite a bit living here in America, for the better I think, but when disease keeps on knocking at the doors of my soul, the old Marxism rises up debating loudly while trying to win.

When one becomes sick and unable to provide for the motherland (this can be geographically anywhere the mind goes) a man’s value disappears, thus he is no longer needed, according to the communism/marxism laws. If you can’t produce you’re no more than a useless eater (Hitler, Communism movement, Margaret Sangers, Darwinism are the best known for this type of thinking). Raised in that type of thinking, I automatically think like that. Back in Romania, you can see this in divorces, affairs,  abuse, neglect, blame, and shame, after one becomes sick vs. here in America, where you see support systems, encouragement, and fighting until the end on behalf of a loved one. (This is a generalized point of view based on the majority of cases, for I have seen harsh consequences following the tragedy of loss or disease here in America as well).

“Oh well, at least they’ll not be a burden to the family now. The sooner they die the better. This is God’s judgment for your sins, your father’s sins, your children’s sins, etc.” Are some of the more normal expressions as a response to any disease in Eastern European culture. (Eastern Europe has migrated into other lands and that philosophy can very well follow.)

In America that differs: “What else can we do, doctor? You’ll get better. Focus on getting better. Don’t worry about the money, you’re more important,”  to name a few, not to mention all the “Go Fund Me” types of support.

To top it all off, I’m a woman, raised and tolled in my formative years to believe that I matter less than the life of a dog, born to please a man only and nothing else. Now here’s the tricky part, this belief was preached loudly from the churches pulpits, all done by males, not communism. In communism law (gender or age didn’t matter, you simply didn’t have value). In Romania, I was nothing else but a Christian woman (that’s not a compliment:) to be used and abused than tossed aside when no longer needed or able to perform my duties- at least that would’ve been my lot in life if I would’ve remained there. (Not all men are cruel, alcoholics or abusive in Romania, but most are). I know great Romanian men that are very decent and loving to their wives, their children and in general to everyone else around.

Now, don’t you worry about me, God’s helped me heal quite a lot from many of these issues, by providing proof of ignorance, instability, indoctrination, culture and a theory (Marxism) based on violence and narcissism (read about Marx’s own pathetic life, his example as a father and husband, and his inability to live up to his own theology). I’m healing, that’s why I can start talking about some truths without disintegrating and with a healthier perspective. Now let’s move on.

Its been only God’s presence and patience, working either directly in my heart or through people such as Chet, my parents-in-law, Elizabeth, my Romanian friends and so many other people I know,  that helped me heal. My siblings have been the biggest help, other than Chet. Chet wants to help but it takes someone who went through hell and back with you to understand the darkness you must heal from. I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. There are far too many that have seen an even greater darkness than I have.

In the days when I’m not feeling well it’s easier to fall into that autopilot old way of thinking, yet, those same days are the ones healing me and teaching me some of the best lessons about myself and life itself.

Why have I let the lies of others (religion, a devil, etc, call it anything you want) take such residence in my heart for so long? Guilt and ignorance of the truth.

I’m dying. (I’m being dramatic here) We all are. Some faster than others. But I’m the one who decides if I’m going to help the evil end my own existence with feelings of fear and hopelessness, or if I would much rather spend that time laughing alongside my loved ones.

When you really get this, life even at its hardest will be worth fighting for. It’s our life, given to us as a gift by God, so guard it and fight for it, it’s our right to it.

Well, like I said, the philosopher in me came out today:) Be happy with the simplicity of life, for a farmer is far happier with his life than a philosopher usually is.

And ultimately, I’ll keep on learning or unlearning, sharing with you parts of those lessons hopefully to help you heal faster and sooner, and be grateful for everything.

God Bless:)

 

Carmen the…

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

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First picture; left to right, me in my second or third grade, clearly uncomfortable:)

Second picture; Chet and I on our wedding day. The malnourishment made me light:)

Third picture; my family as of last week, Chet, Merrill, Alex and Meleah:)

Writing about one self its a bit deceiving; you’re either too biased or too hard on yourself and overall one sided.

I’ve had a few nick-names so its hard to pick just one. Is it Carmen the Dreamer, the Writer, the Fighter, the Captain or the Ice Queen? It’s all of them, I suppose.

Born the first of twelve siblings, my life was both wonderful and hard. My birth wasn’t without its challenges. Shots of Vit. D and Iron for the first year or so, along other health issues somehow gave the doctor the right to pressure my mother into killing me. It wasn’t just my health issues that triggered such a decision but compiled to that it was his deep hatered towards christians. You see, I was a seedling of a very hated group of people in my part of the world at the time and I was not alone. In an atheistic world, being born a Christian was dangerous, and we have the scars to prove it.

A “sensitive soul”, with an over-developed ability or gift of empathy I collected other’s pain in my heart as if my life depended on it. The society’s abuse towards us made sense to me- we were a moral danger to a movement that thrived on egocentricity and cruelty. But our father’s abuse towards us never made sense to me. In times when one must stick with each other in an environment called “home”, meaning “safe”, he became our number one enemy, burning all my ideologies on “safe home” right out of my heart. However, beyond reasons I couldn’t understand and logic I couldn’t explain, except to call it hope, with every rare smile, joke or laughter my father had, a fragile hope seed grew in my heart “maybe he’ll change”. The hope lasted no longer than mere fragments of time until the next wave of darkness took a hold of him. Books, that’s where I found my refuge, not church, society or social interactions. That’s where I could dream freely and imagine the world I wanted to live in. I think I was a bit of a loner, yet with a great deal of charisma.

Being the oldest, I worked constantly skipping on childhood and adolescence all together.

Right after high school, I began working twelve hours shifts, seven days a week at an ice-cream and soda-pop kiosk, very popular at the time. I was very greatful for my $6 a month salary, it was similar to my father’s salary. I was not allowed to go to collage, due to my gender and lack of money, something that made me very bitter at the time.

God to me was just another tyrant figure, unhappy, abusive, not nice at all, yet someone I kept on hearing that somehow “loved me.” I wanted nothing to do with this God but didn’t dare communicate that to my parents. A missionary changed all that. He brought along with him stories of a very powerful and nice God, similar to Jesus in the New Testament (the church loved the mean and angry Old Testament God) and I fell in love for the very first time with God. Willingly, I wanted to have a relationship with this new image of God, not the one in the church. I began a new walk, a happy and light walk with God.

After the 1989 fall of communism revolution in most of the Estern European block, charitable help came into the country in the form of clothes, shoes, and monthly food supplies. “If I ever get rich, I’ll do the same.” A prayer shot up to the heavens from a thankful heart and put in practice soon after.

In 1993 I was rescued by this super handsome and tall young man, Chet, who was part of a missionary team from America. The engagement and wedding was a big source of gossip and wonder. We married on August 15th, in Romania. A very unusual wedding since the bride and groom couldn’t talk to each other:) Leaving Romania and coming to America on October 15th, was one of the most stressful things I lived through. Not because of Chet, my new husband, but everything else: leaving my family, who I no longer could protect, entering a new land with new traditions I din’t understand and no one familiar to communicate with. Halloween was a weird and dark first impression of American holidays, only the small kids dressed in cute costumes brought a smile to my face, all other gore did not. My parents-in-law were a hugeeeeee support during that time.

I had my first born, Merrill, in 1995, followed quickly by my second, Meleah, in 1996 and then our surprise, Alex, in 1993, (I was pregnant with Alex when I flew back to Romania to see Fanu in the hospital, but I did not know I was pregnant). I had a few jobs: babysitting, sells rep at the Gap, preschool teacher, writer, real-estate agent, home design and massage therapist. I’ve never been more fulfilled in my work field, like when I’m writing.

Most of you know that in January of 2014, I fell ill, an illness that almost took my life and I’m still fighting it, getting better each day, with the occasional relapses, which are still far too often than I like to admit.

I’m very happy now, even if in pain most days. Every day I’m greatful to God for allowing me another day on this wonderful planet and among my loved ones. Life is very normal, and calm (I need to keep it calm and stress-free) and mundane but I love it:) Thank you God for my life:)

 

Alex the Overcomer

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

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First picture left to right: Fanu and Alex- the two buddies:)

Second picture: Alex and his wife, Mia:)

Born number ten in our family, Alex came into the world only couple months before the 1989 Eastern Block revolution and the fall of communism. He was a happy child:) I do believe between Iulian and Alex my mother lost another baby. Due to the small gap of only one year and a half in age, Alex and Fanu (number eleven) had a very close relationship. The two buddies spent long hours playing with their toy cars, building imaginary adventures and charitable work plans together. Outside, in the courtyard, they stuck together and always picked each other on the same team, either for a game of soccer or tennis. It’s hard talking about Alex’s childhood without mentioning Fanu, since the two were very close. Their friendship was special:) Alex was only 13 years old when his best friend and brother, Fanu, died and he never got the opportunity to say good by to his little brother and best friend. He had a dream soon after and asked Fanu to show him his disection cut, which Fanu did so.

Soon after Fanu’s death my mother moved in Vilcele, full of grief, and left Alex, Oana and Iulian behind in Hunedoara at my father’s mercy who both starved and abused them.

After he graduated from high school, Alex left for Roma, Italy and lived with Delia, while working with Sami, Delia’s husband, in construction. There he gained his first electronic item in the form of a laptop. Back in Hunedoara he tried to go to collage but did not have the means to do so and settled for a job in the factory of electric wiring system from Deva, a city 30 minutes away from Hunedoara; also the same city Nadia Comaneci trained in.

On a Cristian single site “Pom Verde” he met Mia, who had the same last name, Damean. Thinking she was related to us, Alex began a conversation but it turned out she was not related and they began dating. One thing was very important for the both of them, a sign from God showing they were meant to be together and they got it within 24 hours of each other. After the wedding, a wedding I could not attend, Alex moved to Ludos, where Mia was from and worked hard trying to provide, but they lived paycheck to paycheck and Alex’s skills as an electrician only went so far. Mia’s parents lived in Portugal and the newly wedded couple decided to go visit them for a month, but soon Alex found work and they moved to Portugal permanently where they live to this day. It’s been three years already and they still love it in Portugal having lots of fun together any opportunity they get. You should see the pictures of the delicious foods they send us on a regular bases. Alex works mainly as an electrician as well as a maintenance man and Mia does make-up for weddings and special occasions part-time and recently got a job as a waitress.

The two of them sure have so much fun together, always visiting nice parts of Portugal or enjoying a nice evening out. Mia’s father works as a chef in a restaurant and the two of them visit him quite often:) Their lives are simple and full of happiness. I’m so very glad to see that.

Alex protects his small family fiercely from his abusive father and in general does not have much contact with him. He’s chosen to be happy. Good for him:) I applaud that decision. I’ve gotten to know Alex more so in his early twenties and I’m so glad I did. He’s a great guy:)

P.S “Pom Verde” web site was introduced to Iulian and Oana by Alex, where all three met their spouses.

Sergiu

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Sergiu the Resilient

In our childhood, Sergiu made us laugh constantly, thus one of his nick name, “The Joker.” But to me he’s more “The Resilient”. We sat all bruised and hurt after another one of our father’s angry episodes, but Sergiu found a way to always make us laugh bringing such light in a dark world, even if it had to be whispered.

Out of all twelve siblings, Sergiu was the third and abused the most, in a very hateful manner. But looking into his face now you would never know it. He has the most positive and forgiving nature, bouncing right back with such ease it amazed me. I asked him one day how he could do that. He shrugged his shoulders then responded:

“I just don’t think about it. I think of the things I want to do and do them even if I get in trouble. I’ll get in trouble no matter what, I may as well do what I want. It’s worth it.” To him exploring and having adventures was worth the pain he knew he would endure later on. In a way it prepared him for the tough life ahead. He ran illegally into Germany right after the revolution, got caught and sent back to more abuse only to try again. And he succeeded. He entered Germany with the clothes on his back and a small Bible, worked very hard and now he’s the COO of a multi-million dollar company in Berlin, married to Brigitte, a pure breed German girl and together they have one daughter Michelle:) He gives orders all day long and works with employees from many nations, has a house and a very nice life. He’s helped my parents and siblings financially for years. Since he had a few dollars in his pocket he always thought of the rest of the family and sent back thousands upon thousands of euros (or deutschmarks back in the time). He is known for his love to surprise you and pulled lots of surprise visits:)

Sergiu, the resilient:)

I remember caroling with Sergiu and Alin, and every house/apartment we entered Sergiu found a way to walk away full handed with something. He stood in those long nightmarish lines Romania and Eastern Europe was known for during socialism/ communism times, usually taking him all night long during Siberian winters temperatures just to get a few loaves of bread or one kilo of milk or half a butter or few eggs or one kilo of sugar or one kilo of oranges, you name it. He also had the wits to push in the front of the line and walk away with something when so many were left only with empty disappointments. (There was never enough food during that time, and just staying in a line for half a day did not promise a happy result). Sergiu had street smarts and gumption. Still does:)

Sergiu, the resilient. I miss him everyday:)