The Manhattan Project

Wikipedia defines an omen (also called portent or presage) is a phenomenon that is believed to foretell the future, often signifying the advent of change.[2] People in the ancient times believed that omens lie with a divine message from their gods.[3]

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September 6th, a day that will live in infamy as the quote goes. If you are looking for patterns in the universe, you have come to right place. My mother was born on September 6th, 1941. Although her mother was Catholic, Kathleen Spellman, believed in Omens and, before you think is odd, this myth has been perpetuated since the beginning of time (just ask Anne Boleyn). The word Omen is used most frequently in a foreboding sense.  I believe that this day will live in infamy for other reasons, for reasons that will help mankind. We must be so far removed from our instinct. My mother felt awkward and nervous like me (unless she was in the presence of her small but loyal army), how nicotine altered the course of history.

As my father tells the story, my mother and father first met at a high school dance; my mother asked my father to hold her cigarette, back in time where people measured waste due to the Great Depression. As per father’s tale, he was instantly drawn to my mother (like me, there was no in between on this matter – my family’s genes create love-hate relationships). What happens next is regarded as a shitshow of monumental proportions.

My mother was raised Catholic. The indoctrination of this religion altered the course of human history. She was her own worst critic, thanks largely in part to the Catholic religion, the rest of her self-esteem issues lie with people positively reinforcing the wrong behaviors. She was her own worst critic in a sense that will leave you mystified! She would go to create four children who excelled in almost everything, teaching from a very young age to use the barter system to your advantage, exchanging dance lessons for home sewn tutus. Let’s examine if this is “a bain, a boon, or a boondoggle” (this is a direct quote from my mother, Kathleen Teresa Halicki). She accidentally raised the most loyal people you will ever met, accidentally reinforcing monogamy and misogyny at the same time.

I can recall my mother telling us stories that no child should ever hear as a result of her bi-polarity. A bipolar person cannot distinguish the importance of a text message to a funeral. They are all of equal weight. An autistic person cannot see themselves as others see them, faces are useless to me. If you change your hairstyle and you are of Caucasian descent, I will barely recognize you. I will be told about IMDB.com in 1997 and I have been using it ever since to find order in a disordered world. My mother would hardly be reinforced for the benefits of a relationship with her, her gardening, sewing, cooking, and whatnot, like me, cleaning was never her forte. The tiny details of dirty dishes will be lost on both of us. What we didn’t know was that, imperceptibly, we were being indoctrinated for loyalty and order at the same time (my entire life, up until now, has been tedious chaos). What I didn’t know was that my father was the professor and I am the madman (but we’ll tell his story later; let’s focus on my mother for now).

Pearl Harbor – a disaster far greater than 9/11, but too far removed for us to learn from it. This would be the undoing of Ambassador Dodd, an ambassador who knew the pain of a #SilentVoice, everyone ignored his pleas. It would lead to a mass extermination only outdone by the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs, eliminating countless unknown genes and geniuses from the population. Here’s the thing – my grandmother BLAMED my mother for Pearl Harbor. Can you imagine? I can…

Kathleen Teresa Halicki grew up in that shadow, as well as the shadow of her sister. She grew up awkward and bi-polar, before such a diagnosis even existed. She, me and my father moved to New York City at a time, then on to Michigan, then on to Massachusetts. For some reason, my mother never seemed to fit in anywhere, due to Catholicism. It permeated her existence to the point that she believed she was going to hell, because she french kissed my father before marriage. She should’ve fit in just fine (she was surrounded by intellectuals), but her parents had her believing that all non-Catholics were heathens who will be smited by God, when the time is right. Like Bill Murray in “Lost in Translation”, she was alone while surrounded by people, because the people weren’t Catholic.

My mother missed her home town enough that she got divorced from my father and regretted it everyday of her life…

 

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