I learned more from watching Dad's silent actions, His respect for Nature and mankind
|I did not plan to write or share such a long post, But my heart and mind just seemed to be flowing in that direction lately. And of late, thoughts of my Dad are drifting around me like swirling leaves just before a hurricane. Forgive the flood of words...
I am proud of my Seminole father, Billy Gene Manhart. Not just because he was a Korean War Veteran, worked for Cape Canaveral's KSC. Not just because he was a chemical engineer who rescued several men from perishing in the chemical leak disaster at the CYANAMID Linden NJ plant. But for who he was in his Spirit, and for what he valued and shared with me.
My Dad fought for worker's rights' better PPE to protect them and even blew the whistle to OSHA about unsafe plant going's on. As a result, he was either well-respected by his coworkers, and despised by the suits at CYANAMID, even though he gave them his own ideas that helped plant production and efficiency that he NEVER got credit or compensation for.
His coworkers called him "Rebel" and "Wild Bill" because he was a quiet man, but he didn't take shit from anyone. He stood up for the underdog, hated liars, and found great pride in his work ethic.
I rarely saw my dad during his CYANAMID years. That company took way more than its 18 dollars an hour pay gave, ultimately taking my father from us. Cyanamid's company doctor hid the medical evidence from my father about how chemical exposure was killing him, even to the point of hiding Xrays showing early lung cancer caused by all the Malathion, Fluoride, and other chemical exposure.
One event at the Linden CYANAMID factory plant would seal his fate, the chemical straw that broke my father's back:
'We got 40 million calls,'' said Sgt. Raymond Magyar of the Perth Amboy Police Department. ''I was out on the road at the time, and all of a sudden I saw this mist-like cloud. What an odor! My eyes were burning. I had an awful taste in my mouth. It was terrible.''
Now, Imagine being at ground zero, breathing that vile shit as my Dad did? As well as chronic exposure for 16 years?
When my Dad developed "Emphysema", which was already Lung Cancer, they tried to cheat my Dad out of retirement benefits and his CYANAMID pension. He got it, bequeathed to my foolish Mother who also settled out of court for a measly $80,000 settlement for killing her husband, and causing his pain&suffering, as well as hiding his health condition and using him and others as guinea pigs.
CYANAMID used their workers as test rats, charting their physical condition, the men would have to get frequent physicals, naked, their testicles checked, XRAYS, blood tests. They were told it was just CYANAMID"S gold-standard health coverage.
They tested the men for STDs, and mailed the results to their home address .These tests would often have false-positive results, and the men would have to get-retested to confirm it was a medical error. Cyanamid did not like to hire women, as birth defects are hard to hide. Hiring women was frowned upon at CYANAMID, they were considered to be a liability, lucky for them they were not hired. .
They didn't tell the men that they were charting the effects from chemical exposure on their bodies, using it to give Federal government bureaus and even the Department of Defense. The company doctors at CYANAMID were well-paid for hiding the evidence from workers until many of them were too far gone to get medical treatment from their own doctors.
The CYANAMID company doctor went "missing" when the Linden NJ plant made the news for the last chemical leak disaster that caused the plant to be shut down for good. Eventually becoming a SUPERFUND SITE. I'm sure the U.S. government "Operation Paperclipped" that company doctor somewhere, and well-funded him for the rest of his life. Perhaps they had some wetwork guy off him. If they did, I just wish I was there to witness it.
That site was supposed to be cleaned up, a couple billion dollars was to go towards removing contamination, and safely disposing of it all. But it was cheaper to just cover it up, bury it, dump it, and make a HELIPORT AIRPORT by paving over it with asphalt.
So forgive me for not trusting our "wonderful" U.S. Government. Who's been royally screwing and outright killing off both sides of my bloodline for centuries, right up to killing my own father.
My "paranoia" about the government is well-founded. Every time I say "NO" to an experimental vaccine or an FDA-approved one, I am doing it in memory of my father as well. Thousands of my ancestors died from the White Man's pox, I am surely not going to ask that it be injected into my arm. That is my choice, my right. Every time I hear something "fishy" that doesn't sit well with me? It turns out I was right. My intuitive sense has served me well thus far, and I thank my Indigenous bloodline for giving that to me.
I learned more from watching Dad's silent actions, His respect for Nature and mankind, than I ever will from all the obnoxious, loudmouth, pretentious, self-serving officials and Social Justice Warriors control-freaks, who are only acting out of selfishness or a need for attention. I was blessed by the Great I AM to have known such a man as my Dad.
The many nature hikes my Dad took me on, picking wild raspberries and blackberries, Black-Eyed Susans, finding turtles by their tracks, It all was training for me, to be one with nature, to be patient, to be quiet, and listen and observe. To learn of me from watching the creation of the ONE who made all of us.
I was looking at a photo of my father and it is very unnerving how my Dad, in his 40's, looked like a doppelganger for Seminole Chief Coeehajo. The soft, drooping eyelid, the cheekbones, The eyes themselves, it's like my Dad's ghost staring at me from within Coeehajo's eyes. I hear my Dad speaking from around me, though we buried him in 1991. Burials cannot hold a Spirit that lived in such close proximity to God's creation though.
My Dad's Military Service Photo was doctored to make him look less dark and more white, more "patriotic". My olive-skinned Dad served honorably in the US Army, and they thanked him by making his military portrait look less Indian, more white. . All my Dad's other pics can prove he was never white, not even during the long, cold NJ winters that he hated.
My Dad was born and raised in Florida, spending his time in the Everglades He told me of his experiences wrestling alligators, swimming with otters, and how one momma otter was floating beside him with her baby resting on her belly.
Dad was a natural tree-climber, and even on our property, he would scale the massive towering oak trees to the high, swaying branches to cut them by hand, and just peer out from them. He did this to make a rope swing for my sisters and me. We would take turns swinging, I would watch the green oak leaves fluttering in summer, the golden ones falling down, aided by the swing's motion.
I cannot see a rope swing and not think of my Dad.
Coyotes are coming onto our property again. They must be here for the rabbits, Which are plentiful this year. The mother rabbits have taken up living here this year, And one baby rabbit has claimed our house, deck, ramp as their own. He sits on our front deck's ramp, even coming up to the porch, to hide from predators.
Our dog Fred smells the rabbits, and the Coyotes, and insists on going out to defend "his" home. Coyotes would make fast food out of Fred though if they met face-to-face. I believe these types of encounters with nature are what sustained my Dad through very hard times. Drawing strength, power, and security from them.
While my Dad was not much of a church-goer, He had a deep love for The Great I Am, and through ragged breathe said two very tall men in white robes were standing by his hospital bed. I know The Great I Am loved my Dad too, not just for being a good and honest man who respected Him, But for his deep love for His own creation. So yes, I believe He sent two Angelic Spirits to help my Dad make the journey to eternity. But I also feel my Dad is still here, especially when I am touching nature.
I'm watching eagerly for the Coyotes, And hoping that not only I can see them, But see their eyes, and my Dad looking back at me through them.