Wolf, me and the “Amadeus” slander factory…:-0

Recently I taught a room full of second-graders for the day.  It was an interesting experience.  During storytelling time the lesson plan (devised by the regular teacher) instructed them to sit cross-legged on small carpet squares while the story was read.  It was, to me, a rather confusing story — Goldilocks and the Three Bears, but in a play put on by penguins.  So, to some extent, I don’t hold it against the students that not all were interested.

I discovered quickly that half of the class had decided on their own not to sit and listen to the story.  Instead, they were running around ‘cleaning up’ the classroom and chattering. I thanked the students who had been on task and was planning to take down their names (from their name tags) so that their teacher would give them credit for this.  Then, one of the off-task girls came running up to me, very excited.  “Mrs. B, we’ve all  written our names on the blackboard so that our teacher will know we were the ones that cleaned up the room!”.  I nodded and smiled to myself.  It was, in fact, possible to outsmart a second-grader!  On my notes to the lesson plan I added, “It looks like all the students who were off-task during the reading time have written their names on the blackboard.” 🙂

And what does this have to do with Wolfgang Mozart?  Or me, for that matter? Most anyone who knows anything about Wolf will acknowledge that either he had some very bad luck during his life or there were a number of people badmouthing him wherever he went.  When else has a musician simply out to do their job created such controversy?  But, no matter where Wolf turned, he was met by those trying to block him and destroy his credibility.  It is my position that he was slandered, and the slander contributed to his untimely death.  And it is my belief that the ominous movie “Amadeus” combines most of the slanderous myths about him into one carefully-crafted package so that anybody could simply despise Mozart as a person while stealing his music and performing as though they were he.

And what does that have to do with me, much less a room full of second-graders? Wherever I have gone and turned there have been those who have either insinuated themselves into my life through stealth, or whom I have no alternative but to interact with.  Some have flattered me to my face and slandered me behind my back.  Others have been comfortable with outright attack and persecution.  One of the most difficult situations I have ever faced has been acknowledging that one of my most cherished family members chose this route.  I was too devastated and grieving to do anything but remain in denial for quite some time.  It has only been recently that I have been able to accept the things I cannot change.

When I started writing Piper to the Alternative long ago, I wrote about the “Vienna Mystery” surrounding Mozart’s death.  I imagined that there was a vortex of negative energy around him that I call the “vortex of the evil eye” that caused his death.  A number of people close to him had agreed to his murder.  They treated him as though he was already dead and waited for something to happen.  At that time I had no intention or understanding that I too might possibly be a part of that negative vortex, and that my own life, worst-case scenario, could also be at stake.

And who are those people who have gathered around me and perhaps even agreed to my murder?  Who are those ‘oh so helpful’ individuals who seem to think I am oblivious to the fact that they treat me as though I am already dead and then seem to be waiting for something to happen?  Let me give you a clue — they have all written their names on the blackboard. They have slandered me to you.  They have deliberately claimed to be a part of my inner circle and then have gone out of their way to make false representations about me.

They, like the second-graders, have managed to solve the problem for me.

 

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My Mother’s curse…and an interesting coincidence…:-0 M4B*

I sincerely doubt that anyone who met my mother, Katherine, was not bewitched by her charm and poise.  In fact, I would have myself, had I not also been a target of her vicious, even murderous, agendas.  When she was charming it was almost impossible to realize that she could, in an instant, lash out in a demeaning and disrespectful manner.  I quickly became aware of her dual personality and, even as a small child, never trusted her to be honest with me or look after my best interests.  In fact, by the time I turned four, I had come to realize that ‘nothing was as it seems or as I am told.’  It seemed that my Father just stood by and watched things happen.  My younger sister, Angela, seemed to hide and gloat, and did not, or was not able to, help me.

However, as a child, everywhere I turned, there my Mother was.  Only when I was sent to my room (the precursor to being grounded) or allowed to go outside after finishing my homework, to the relative heaven of the fluffy fields, stream and woods surrounding our dead-end street in Fairfield, Connecticut, did I feel that I could calm down and really think for myself.  Her influence was very controlling.

However, the commotion surrounding my most likely having been poisoned by her on more than one occasion caused a terrible upheaval in my birth family.  My Father almost succeeded in taking his own life when he figured out what had happened.  He spent quite a while in a hospital recovering.  During that time, my Mother decided to take things into her own hands (once again).  After returning from a session in New Haven with my Father and his doctors, she came into the livingroom where I was sitting and perched herself on the footstool to my Father’s chair.  At that moment, the air seemed to become both black and white around her.  There was a fearful intensity of negative energy.  Her eyes became black as coal, with a white light of some sort seeming to emanate from them.

“You are just like your Father, Pam. The same thing is going to happen to you!” she spat at me.

At that moment three black frogs jumped out of her mouth.  Not real frogs — something that looked just like ‘frogs’ in a spiritual sense.

At that point the black and white light dissipated.  She left the room and walked upstairs. I felt alone, and frightened.  In our house at that time the Bible sat on a shelf with other books.  It was rarely opened.  I had not read Revelation, and, at the time knew nothing about a possibly analogous mention of ‘frogs’ in Revelation 16:13.  I did not know what that meant at the time, and I can’t say that I do even now.  Some of those writing commentary on this verse seem to tiptoe around the fact that ‘frogs’ are specifically mentioned: http://biblehub.com/commentaries/revelation/16-13.htm.  All I know is that is that ‘frogs’ are what I saw that night…

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

 

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