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Friday, February 17, 2012

An August Journal: Broken Home

The 12th of August 2006
Today was a dark day indeed; Alan brought his wife to my home.
Alan is the man who I will never again call father nor his children my siblings. I’m a man without family so that all history of family must start with me. I am a Jew and hold that to be my belief and I know that my mother, the only real family I ever had, was of the blood of the Hebrew and that her father survived the holocaust by immigrating to America.
When my mother died at 49 she had no choice but to leave me in the care of this greedy idiot who, paid to care for his children and myself, failed miserably to do so. He decided that my home needed work so he ripped out good flooring of carpet and covered over hard wood with acrylic tiles. I can count the days it lasted on my fingers. He did try to make the tile work by reinstalling it. Again, if fell apart within days and he gave up on making repairs to my home. I must make assumptions at this point that he did this to find things to pay his sister for, who was named executer of the estate because of Alan’s unsuitability, as many of his relative complied that she was not paid for her services. They raised the subject because they felt that I should believe she had not been paid when the truth is that she has.
Over the next eight years Alan purchase thousands of dollars in exercise equipment so that his son, Paul, could “feel good about himself” and left my home to rot.

Honestly, I don’t believe he did it for Paul. I think he did it for him. He wanted to spend money on that equipment.