One life at a time.

Changing the way you two day's I will have the sixtieth birthday of my Rape as a nine-year-old child By two Catholic priests. I was not Catholic at all then or now. I Did not even know what it was; I was not alone that day. My identical twin was along for the ride. Our first nine years were completed daily by one tragedy after another. We were born with Twin To Twin Transfusion syndrome. He had a 1% chance of survival; I had a 10 % chance. We had our first stroke of luck in the location of our births. A special baby hospital built out of its earlier tragedy, the Colman Hospital for birthing mothers Only. It came about by a tragedy that left a young Mother, her daughter Dead, and her child at the General Hospital of Indianapolis, Indiana. The General Hospital, a county hospital, was general. I would go there once, mistaking thinking it was candy when I took a bottle of pills. My brothers and sister would go there with each rat bite they would receive in the hundred or so low-class houses where we would live and grow. My mom was still a teen when she had me, her seventh child. My Identical twin was her sixth. Colman Hospital saved our lives at 6 a.m. Saturday, August 1ST, 1953. Colman Hospital was next store to the General Hospital. When my mom arrived two months early for the birth of her baby, they sent her across the parking lot to Colman. A 3-pound boy was born needing three months in an incubator and new blood. I was still inside my mom when she yelled something else was wrong three times to the delivery staff. Soon, I popped out a healthy, identical twin born with T to T to T to S. Now, nine years old and some months later, we end up with a new stepmom and a drunk musician for a dad. They were married, and we moved in. Bobby is 11 months older, Lon is three minutes older, and I am. Ricky was the baby that was mistreated most by Larry and had already been returned to the Care of our Mother, Mother Mary.,. Our evil new stepmom would allow her dog to bite Ricky In The Face one day while he tried to eat lunch, which was a bowl of hard dog food in a dog bowl on the floor. I Told Dad. It was the first of many ass-kicking that day. I often counsel Dad about our struggles as children growing up with a sick, sick woman. Larry, our stepmom, would not come without her own abuses. Shot, Jailed, and worked as a hooker. How did Dad meet her? In a bar, of course. He said. I will not discuss the raw sexual trauma between Larry and me. I am sure she got to Bobbie finally on Cottage courts. The Place of Change. Dad would learn to take most of his anger on her fish aquarium by pulling it to the floor. Seeing the fish everywhere. Worked as a distraction while they both saved the fish.We still lived in the lowest form of poverty known to the Scottish white trash. We moved from the apartment to the grocery store at Collage and Georgia to the location of my life-changing basses of Religion, My intro to the world of The Catholic Church. I think we had three marbles and one longer one called an ager. We had a large marble to play with in two feet of the side and front yard grass at our 75 or so home. My twin decided we would play kick the can. It was a Saturday morning, and we knew Dad would sleep till noon. It is possible, after years, to think it could have been Easter morning. It was a Holiday because the priests wore fancy robes and hats.Our stepmom told us not to cross any street. That was the only rule we had. So off we went down Charles Street South, kicking this can. It was the day before Easter. The sidewalk opened up into a large church parking lot. Luckily, we did not have to cross the street or be limited by a three-foot sidewalk going one way. Life was good; a Judge had given my dad custody of the four of us instead of paying child support. God sent me my double vision as we kicked the can around the church's parking lot. I had already met Jesus and the Devil a few years earlier, floating along a humming bridge at tenth street river white river. They were Identical twins. That day, I went to church for the first time. A black congregation. I have no idea how I ended up in a car with a Black Family going to church for the first time. My thoughts about the church. I was in shock. The poor black people were happy as a group. They all seem to be family. I Instantly became aware of lightness and power. When I was driven home, I met The Devil at the bridge. Jesus was still there. They looked at each other but did not talk directly to each other. I asked both the same question. How will I know? By now, I had met or seen so much. IE                        Now, nine years old, I believed I knew God had sent two of his noblemen to meet my smaller twin and me. I would experience the worst survivor's guilt while Lonnie still tried to catch up in size from his battle with TTTS. This church was no church like all I had ever seen. Finally, God's Promise was at hand. What amazement to discover in all its glory Sacred Heart Catholic Church. It was a Monster-sized church, The Catholic Church of the Sacred Heart. I was going places. The Rapes y family members and being forced to eat dog food and female stuff of God The female stuff was so hard to take. I almost couldn't make it. But I DID.         I was about to meet the gods and his men. Two fully dressed in robes and headgear floated as Gods me must do? Two of God's people. This was it. Total freedom or some version of it. These priests wore robes and headgear of royalty. I had never seen such a display. One of these two mini gods scolded Lonnie. I stepped in. It is Saturday morning for making such a racket in a church parking lot. Not being of the Catholic faith or knowing how terrified a young catholic boy would be to have a priest yell at him. We fell silent. After the verbal bashing, he asked what we were doing making such a racket. I explained we were kicking a can at each other. W had just moved into the house on the corner the day before. We had not been down this dead-end street yet and had not seen the Sacred Heart Catholic Church. Realizing he had two destitute little boys in his parking lot, he invited us into the church to go bowling. Something I had heard of but never played. The two priests walked us downstairs to a small bowling alley lane. Excitedly, I ran for a bowling ball only to be reprimanded for not taking off my shoes. I needed special shoes to walk on a wooden floor. I was somehow supposed to know this. I pulled off my holy shoes to reveal my holy socks. We had just been released from the Marion County children's home for the fifth or so time and had minimal amounts of clothes. In fact, they had all been stolen by the Placement Home. Mrs. Heart, our Marion County Social Worker, had fed us a fantasy story about a Farm in paradise. Damit, the only Horse they had, was 95% dead. We had been placed in Martinsville, Indiana, the week before. We did not care about the clothes. Someone must love me where...That is what I cared about. A smile, a hello, a nice treat. Who would save my Life? We were on a hunt for the invisible. We had holy socks and holy shoes. God's men were left to intervene. The priest then made his move, Calling me to him. My twin had disappeared by this time. I felt responsible for him. He had saved me in the womb. The priest explained that he was also a doctor and a priest. I did not know what a priest was and that a doctor had saved our lives at birth. He asked if I had had a physical before. I did not know what that meant, But I trusted him in his outfit. He took my pants off and saw my dirty underwear. I was led to believe that a week per pair was the norm. Somebody removed them all. I was naked in the bowling alley in the basement of the church in front of God, man. I went with it. He looked and touched me all over. Then he spread my checks and probed with something. I had had a nurse flick the head of my dick the summer before during a physical for Happy Hollow Camp. I went with it. After a while, he was done touching and probing and said I would receive new underclothes and socks. No one asked where the new underwear had come about. That was reveling after the shock that no one noticed the new underwear. We moved after a few months there. I never told anyone. I had been paid underwear for my first sex act with a priest. By the time I was in the Army at eighteen and a half, I would have already been passed around by 20 to 25 priests. Including The Priest That married me at Saint Jude twenty years later at 30 to the date of my Rape. Father Morley was a last-minute priest change at my wife's family church that they helped establish in the sixties, St. Jude. That brings me to why I waited thirty-plus years before I told anyone about my Catholic church Experiences. I wondered if I was legally married to a priest who raped me as a teenager? I have many priest stories, including being driven across the country at 15 while being prostituted by him to pay for expenses. Including getting a ride on the top of a truckload of Bibles heading to an Indian reservation by a nun in Arizona. Was I married? This thought Brought my past back to my active mind. Turning fifty opened, and wondering made me contact the church. Although Father Morley and his pervert brother Bud Morley were both dead. I decided I needed restitution. Only restitution and ease the pain of betrayal. I needed an acknowledgment of their dirty deeds. I contacted the Main Church headquarters of the Catholic Church in north Merdian and was dis-believed. They offered counsel, and a Private detective interviewed me after lying to my face that She would give me a copy of her report.I reveal all, only for her to betray her promise to me. That was to be unbiased. She later lied and said she did not say that. I had held more stories away from Scientology and a dozen other groups over a 25-year history of spiritual searching for the meaning of my being tricked so easily by the priest with the big headdress. How does being Raped as a child affect you for Life? Life is a flow through the air of living. Suddenly someone rapes you. This Rape is like being picked up and thrown into a river. Fighting whatever that river brings you. Discovering that you do not control the river's current or anything at all. You do not control the temperature or movement or its speed. You do not control anything about it at all. There are lots of animals and bugs and slithering things. That all try and eat or bite you. You begin disoriented and lose all sense of possibilities and life purposes. Your families are gone, as you knew them. You are an outsider going down a river to another land, another town, another time. You understand things. Yet, knowing no one knows you. Now, you begin to fear everything. You cannot trust or forgive your shake and sometimes lose control of your body. You are no longer you, but something dirty some use, others want to abuse. You feel worthless and distracted. You will never find your way back home. No one believes you because it must have been you that caused it. Your heart is hollow like your mind. It no longer exists. You hide, self-soth yourself the best you can. You resent others for having all their breaks. All because some dirty pedophile wants to take your hand. Do strange things to you. Why would God abandon you now? You bounce from Religion to Religion, looking for clues to the big question, WHY. You fail and move to the next one in a maddening push to understand God of all Gods. You find that there is no end. But a new beginning. A new way, a new hope, A new possible Understanding. You begin to see common threads and imperfections that are the same in all. You wonder why all animals must breathe. Is this a weakness or an outpoint? Water, why can it change in so many ways? Always equaling out. After sixty years in this whore pool, I discovered that Life is to be lived by you. People are to be loved. Your Life is to worship in a way that suits you and your family. No Religion is the final word or way. Water works well in some recipes and Oil in others. Sometimes, they are mixed. Nothing is worth disloyalty. And family is supreme and friends grand. Work is an adventure, and all others are allowed to be themselves. Sickness is the enemy, and abuse is hate. War is uncalled for, and energy is not supposed to hurt. God is you, and you are others' God. Restitution is a higher state of apology and crime wastes time. Prisons are evil, and medicine is not always good. The greatest of all is Life. A baby is in a pure state. A dad is alive if you're lucky, and Moms are humankind's gift to us all. Soon it will be sixty years of God's Rape. Sixty years of uncertainty. Sixty years of fear and distrust. Will you hold my hand? Will you love me? Will you be mine? We all together can set the world straight and move in a way forward that is good for all humankind. Many things must change in our lives. Like the sun, we are unlimited in resources. But our greatest resource is our Young. Change is uncertain. Change is scary. Yet change brings about a new beginning. A new direction. New hope and new dreams. Our children are our hope, our dreams, and our possibilities. Let them have a hand. We must lead from the bottom up. We must allow somebody to have new ideas. We must stop being afraid of our own. We must stop destroying the planet. We must stop eating our own through a wasteful prison comp

Lex. We must allow laws to be changed or go to pasture. And Yes, God asked me to be here now with you. Donnie harold harris

u live.