Become a Father of Vigilance. Drive the Beast of Terror away
from your children and their children's children's children.
15, 2003—Ground Zero Plus 641
Fathers Of Vigilance--Unite!
Editor, New York City Combat Correspondent News
GROUND ZER0, New York, New
York--June 15, 2003-- It is time for the Fathers of Vigilance
to rise up as an Army of Vigilance and strike down the
Beast of Terror once and for all.
is time for fathers to raise their swords and drive
away the Beast of Terror
For eons, the Beast of Terror has stalked the shadow of
fathers, testing their resolve to be either a Terrorist
or a Sentinel of Vigilance. It is time for
the tests to end, and for each father to accept the hilt
of the Sword of Vigilance, and raise it up as a signet
of commitment to driving the Beast of Terror from the
homeland, to chase it deep into its dark, dank caves where
it deserves to rot throughout eternity.
But, this is a lofty plan.
Men, by nature, are diverted
by other battles seemingly more important than sweeping
their children into their arms, hugging them, and being
their Fortress of Emotional, Physical, Mental and Spiritual
As a young boy, age 3,
I vowed to become a Father of Vigilance.
That was the age I realized
my real father had abandoned me and I was cold and alone
in a world without a masculine father-protector.
It was a frightening experience.
cried many lonely nights wishing my father would
come home to love me
three years of age I vowed to become a Father of
Children are confused when a parent cleaves himself or
herself from the Child's Circle of Protection.
It is as though the parent cast the child to the wolves,
threw it into the darkness filled with all sorts of bogeymen--yellow
eyes that gleam in the darkness, bats that swoosh down
like missiles in the tangled tooleywoods of a child's
nightmares, making it unable to scream aloud, but yet
inside, the cries bellow so loudly in the soul that the
whole world vibrates.
Many lonely nights
I cried in the secret recesses of my soul, wishing my
father would come through the door, wrap his arms around
me, tell me he loved me and that he was sorry for not
being there for me, but would make it up.
I would have believed him. I would have forgiven
Instead, my mother married another
He was another Beast.
I didn't like him. I was
five at the time, but I knew he didn't like me.
Children can read the eyes of adults, see deep into their
remember the glare in 'the stranger's eyes - my
new father's - and knew he hurt me on purpose
On my fifth
birthday when my mother came home with my new "father,"
he gave me a softball. It was a big ball as
I recall, with thick stitches and I could hardly hold
it. He took me outside to play ball with me
and began to throw the ball at me harder and harder.
I remember trying to catch it. It stung my
hands. And I remember looking at this giant of a
man--a stranger I was now forced to call my father--laughing
and throwing the ball harder and harder until I missed
it and it slammed into my stomach, knocking me to ground
I remember crying and running
into my grandmother's house where my mother was, telling
her he had hurt me on purpose and that I hated him.
She took me into the bedroom and told me he was my new
father and would never hurt me, then left me to cry as
she went out to him.
I lay on the bed alone, sobbing,
remembering the glare in 'the stranger's' eyes as he threw
the ball. I knew he had done it on purpose.
And, I knew I was alone again, fatherless regardless of
the word "father" I was forced to use to address
Things didn't get much better.
I stood aloof from my step-father
who a few years later adopted my sister Patty and I so
we carried his name. The new handle, "McKenzie"
was like a yoke around my neck. It didn't belong
to me, but I was forced as any beast of burden to wear
it. My original last name, "Anderson,"
was buried in the shallow grave of my real father who
was a Greyhound bus driver. I would
stand on the side of the road watching his bus weave up
the Columbia River, showering gravel on me as it sped
past without stopping. I knew he didn't
Each time his bus blew
past I felt the emptiness in my gut widen, winced as another
shard of my soul was ripped and shredded with the exhaust
of the bus. No birthday cards.
No Christmas presents. No contact.
It was as though he wiped me off the windshield of his
life, like a splattered bug. One day I stopped going
down to the roadside to watch his bus go by. One
day I stopped caring.
often hid in the bottom of my bed
was a mean drunk. He would hit my mother,
bloody her nose, call her names.
I often hid in the bottom
of my bed, under blankets, hoping that if he came into
the bedroom he would think I wasn't there.
As I grew older, I often threw
myself between my adoptive father and mother during bitter,
brutal battles filled with both physical and emotional
violence. Sometimes my sister and I would
run away and hide in the fields until the battles were
I found it bizarre my mother
stayed with this man who abused her with words and fists,
but, sadly, she did. Each day of my life I
rekindled my vows to make up with my children the lack
of love and attention from my father, and by default,
My mother would, in the aftermath
of many battles, extract an old picture of my real father
and then break down crying, telling me that she still
loved him. I would look at her like she was crazy,
and tell her to leave my step father then, but she wouldn't.
She only wallowed in her own self-pity, her own quagmire
of emotional waste.
When my step-father made
a sexual advance toward my sister, a year older than I,
in our early teens, we left home and went to live with
my grandmother in Oregon. To me, that was
worse than living with my stepfather and the madness of
our home life that was like a minefield--at any moment
one could step on a mine and the house would explode.
We all walked on eggshells, waiting for the next volcanic
eruption, usually the result of too much beer, wine and
My mother had three children
with my step-father. There was always the rift in
the family--"You're not my real brother, you can't
tell me what to do!"
There was also the denial,
the excommunication of my older sister who now lived with
my grandmother and grandfather in Cascade Locks, Oregon,
a small town of just over 1,000 renowned for its Bridge
of the Gods spanning the Columbia River and linking Oregon
I tried to stay out
of the battles.
As I grew
older, I saved enough money to escape. I wanted
to go to college, and bit my tongue as often as possible
until I filled the coffers with enough loot to pay my
way through school. Then, I left.
My singular goal in life
was to be a Loving Parent.
Perhaps no goal was more
important to me now that I look back.
I wanted to give the universe
what I had been deprived, to fill the crack in my own
soul with the mortar of love and respect and caring for
my children as sort of karmic way of healing the rip in
I searched for the woman
to be the mother of my children, a woman who agreed with
me on the raising of children--who had the same romantic
but yet practical ideas of how to love and teach respect
to a child.
We met and the bells rang.
I knew this was the one.
If there is nothing else
I've succeeded at in this life, I can point to my two
children as my epitaph. They symbolize the
poles of my and my wife's personalities--are the the yin
and yang of us.
One daughter is a lovely
mother of three children. She is a peace activist
and works with marginalized people with her husband, helping
right many of the injustices served upon those less fortunate.
She recently completed her Masters of Divinity degree
from Union Theological Seminary, and while she doesn't
preach or evangelize (yet), she lives the life of giving
with her husband to the community she serves.
On the opposite pole
is her younger sister, our second daughter. She
is a federal law enforcement agent who carries two 9mm's
and daily and nightly is searching out the "bad guys,"
hunting them down and locking them up.
Both are politically
at different poles on most issues, but that doesn't stand
between their deep loving relationship as sisters and
friends. They are one in that respect, a tribute
to their ability to separate the obstacles that can stand
between love of another.
My elixir in life
is often drinking up the joys of their personalities when
they are together. I quietly sit back and view the
essence of my life as a father, watching two beautiful,
strong, gifted, intelligent young women make an impact
upon the world of their own choosing.
Both of their careers
were somewhat shocks to what I had envisioned.
But, in the final analysis, I realize they both are "saving
the world" in their own private and personal ways.
They are both selfless in that respect--both Sentinels
of Vigilance willing to risk their lives for others.
As a father, nothing
makes me prouder than to see my children rising up the
evolutionary ladder to the beat of their own music.
All through their
upbringing, my mantra was: "You're in school
not to learn, but to learn to think!"
In concert with my
wife, we were involved in almost every aspect of their
lives. We had a single goal--to teach our
children to make the best decisions for themselves, and
not to be swayed by others. We told them if
they came to us and said they had done this or that because
the "rest of the kids did," then we would not
support them. But, if they came to us and said,
"I chose to do this, and am willing to suffer the
consequences," we would fall behind them with all
But we didn't just
We worked at being
Parents of Vigilance.
From helping them
with schoolwork, to insuring our home was the center of
attraction for all events and laughing together often
at ourselves, we laid down the best possible grid
for them to learn from.
We also respected
their opinions even if we didn't agree.
It turned out well.
Over the years, we
have grown closer to our children, not farther from them.
And, that brings
me to the point.
One of the most manly
acts a father can perform is wrapping his arms around
his children and telling them he loves them.
For many men who
have guarded their emotions, this is tough.
The idea of man being "soft" is a false belief
passed on for far too many generations.
love for his children is an art. It has to come
from within. One has to break the barrier of human
Terrorism to allow the free flow of love to bridge the
walls that falsely warn a man "not to show emotions."
As a former Marine,
I was trained in being "tough," and I am.
But, I also learned about Courage, Conviction and Right
Actions, the crucible of Vigilance.
I learned it was
O.K. to show emotions to my children, and to teach them
they didn't have to believe in what I did, and that I
was flawed, imperfect.
Many times they laughed
at me, and learned to say: "Dad, that's just
your opinion, right. We have our own."
It took a lot for
me to appreciate the fact they had the right to evolve
into anything they wanted to, as long as it was their
Even when I tried
to "force" them into certain belief systems
I cherished, they stood their ground. They had formed
their own, based on foundations of evolution my wife and
I had taught them.
By no means was I
a perfect father, but I was an involved father.
I taught my children to take the best of what they saw
in another, and to not take things that they didn't want.
Today, my children are my friends, my best of friends.
My advice to all
fathers is to insure you are building a friendship of
respect with your children. You know that exists
when you can tell them anything out of love, and, in return,
they can tell you anything, including admonishing you
for your faults.
Many times my children
have told me how off course I was. I respected
what they said, as they hopefully respect what I say.
As a Father of Vigilance,
my goal was to insure they didn't learn how to be children
of Fear, Intimidation and Complacency--The Triads of Terrorism.
The Pledge of Vigilance
I have developed with my wife's help over the past three
years is an example not just of what I believe, but a
blend of my children's beliefs also.
I have learned an inordinate
amount of life from how they live their lives.
The teacher has become the student.
If you are a father, there
is no better tool for you to use to enhance your father-ship
than the Pledge of Vigilance.
the Pledge of Vigilance and be closer to your children
If you take
the Pledge and vow to live by it, you will quickly find
that it is an excellent method to bring yourself closer
to your children, and to provide them with ways to communicate
with you that you cannot fathom.
Courage, Conviction and
Right Actions for the Children's Children's Children sake
are three big Golden Eggs you can place in your child's
When you do, your children
will have the training to become Sentinels of Vigilance.
And, the Beast of Terror will find it hard to take root
in their lives.
If you haven't already,
become a Father of Vigilance.
Take the Pledge of Vigilance
June 14--Flag Day: Flying Flags
of Vigilance or Terrorism?
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