It is the story of the struggles, simple joys and wisdom surrounding a young girl growing up in the 1940's in Appalachia.

    D. 1830. and I have joined a trapping, trading, hunting expedition to the Rocky Mountains. Why, I scarcely know, for the motives that induced me to this step were of a mixed complexion, - something like the pepper and salt population of this city of St. Louis. Curiosity, a love of wild adventure, and perhaps also a hope of profit, - for times are hard, and my best coat has a sort of sheepish hang‑dog hesitation to encounter fashionable folk - combined to make me look upon the project with an eye of favour. The party consists of some thirty men, mostly Canadians; but a few there are, like myself, from various parts of the Union. Each has some plausible excuse for joining, and the aggregate of disinterestedness would delight the most ghostly saint in the Roman calendar. Engage for money! no, not they; health, and the strong desire of seeing strange lands, of beholding nature in the savage grandeur of her primeval state, - these are the only arguments that could have persuaded such independent and high‑minded young fellows to adventure with the American Fur Company in a trip to the mountain wilds of the great west. But they are active, vigorous, resolute, daring, and such are the kind of men the service requires. The Company have no reason to be dissatisfied, nor have they. Everything promises well. No doubt there will be two fortunes apiece for us. Westward! Ho! This pre-1923 publication has been converted from its original format for the Kindle and may contain an occasional defect from the original publication or from the conversion.

    

    She was kept in a closet and beaten daily. Neglected, physically and mentally abused. Sometimes she was allowed to eat and sometimes she wasn't. She was left in the care of a family member who took her young innocents by selling her for sex to men at an early age. When most children are at the tender age of adolescents and playing at the playground she was living in a daily hell. The welfare system failed her many times. Sending her back to a home that only the devil could have occupied. By the age 11, she had attempted suicide seven times. With no success, she ran away to live on the streets of Cincinnati Ohio. Until she was caught and sent to many children's homes and foster homes. Read as she takes you through her journey as she recounts her 'Diary from hell"!

    Today I’m just another thirty-something-year-old guy, living the suburban dream in southern California. But there’s something my neighbours don’t know about me. Something you’d never guess about me. Something, that up until these past couple of weeks, I’d never dream about telling you. Something you wouldn’t believe. I was, in the most horrific of manners, and by the most unlikely of people, sexually abused as a child. Not shocked? Well, wait until you hear the full story… WARNING: This book is based upon a true story of child abuse, and as such contains passages that some readers may find disturbing.

    

    To begin their reign of terror, the Nazis burned down Bendzin's beautiful synagogue with some 200 helpless Jews inside. Most Jewish families in Bendzin, and rest of Poland were completely wiped out by the Holocaust. The Szpringers were just an ordinary middle-class family, but through many incredible strokes of luck, or perhaps miracles, all seven of them survived. For an entire Jewish family in Poland to survive the Holocaust is amazing--likely unique. What is more remarkable is how they survived. This is their story.

    There was no immediate response on my part, only a deep sense of fear entombed by a completely paralyzed inner spirit. Much to my surprise, he spoke again: "Sir, you've waited too long to get here. You're not going to make it." And he continued: "If you believe in God, this is the time to make peace." In that very moment, I said to myself, "What do you mean, 'If you believe in God?' Of course I believe in God! I'm a man of faith and a Catholic priest!" Fr. John Tourangeau, O. Praem., a Norbertine priest who had an afterlife experience following a major heart attack, emphatically states, "Heaven is for real!" Within this enlightening and hope-filled book, Fr. John weaves a powerful and dynamic tapestry of the Kingdom of God at hand through the exploration of Christian tradition, Sacred Scripture, Catholic teaching, as well as his own lived experiences. "While the fullness of heaven cannot be fully experienced in our life here on earth," Father explains, "we are able to more fully experience God's love for us through our relationships with others. For it is in and through these relationships that we draw closer to Christ and his promise for us."

    A collection of humorous hospital stories and events as witnessed by a frequently incarcerated patient and told from a patient's point of view while secured and gagged in a hospital bed.Stories and tales from a lifetime of hospital admissions, showing that hospital life as a patient is not all doom and gloom.

    It includes tales of living through a lifetime of dysfunction, violence and terror at the hands of both her father and other nefarious individuals who would seek to perpetuate the cycle. More importantly though, it is also a story of how they did not succeed in this hateful quest, as Jvonne struggled on and through to the other side to embrace love, laughter and the pursuit of personal happiness. Part of this amazing transformation even led to her adoption of a biracial infant, an event that served both as a healing elixir to her soul and a grandiose “!#%& you” to all the ugliness that hate brings.

    

     1988 would prove to be the worst drought since the ‘dustbowl’ of the 1930’s.  Yellowstone would burn,  Ronald Reagan would shake his fist at the 'Evil Empire', and the author, oblivious to it all, hit the road and never looked back. That trip would consume the entire summer, logging over twelve thousand miles from sea to sea and back.  “Alone In The Wind” is the account of that trip, with pictures, maps, historical & geographical notes, and rolling narrative. A few selected excerpts: The early evening sun is bright red and except for wind slapping the tents, all is quiet.  Other campers are talking in subdued tones.  The  scene has a timeless quality I can’t explain.  Maybe it’s how I’d picture an Oregon Trail  camp.  Everybody too exhausted to do more than whisper, anticipating the day ahead, trying to forget the ones behind. Kurt Vonnegut might have written that the Custer annihilation occurred solely to provide me with a ranger to give advice on the coming storms.  That irony rattled around in my helmet for the next forty miles. Chewing mindlessly I stare at passing trucks with red eyes.  This has been an endless, grueling day.  A far cry from the mystical experience that other writers claim.  The bone numbing reality of motorcycle touring is exhaustion, dehydration, disorientation. Vacant eyes seem to be nothing more than rubber stoppers that keep my liquefied brains from spilling out over my face. Carved out by the tides, the cave is probably underwater for most of the day.  At the entrance is a rock with a well-formed depression at the top.  Without thinking I dump both bottles of Atlantic Ocean into that shallow basin, move deeper into the cave and sit.  There’s a lot on my mind, and it all seems to be demanding immediate attention.  The mission will be accomplished.  The oceans will unite.  It will take a few hours, and I won’t be here to see it, but this is a better way.  Letting the sea take it on its own terms seems more fitting. Heat was the real problem.  Both the heat of a western summer day and the heat thrown off an air-cooled engine that's being pushed to its limits.   While it was never transcendental, the passage was always very real, very immediate, and unforgettable.  Thinking back to the other riders that I met, it seemed the same for them as well.  They were all worn down with fatigue and loneliness - while at the same time brimming over with confidence and satisfaction. I won't forget them.

    Her first husband, and then her second husband end up abusing her also. Later on, both her surviving children were abused, one by her ex husband, another by a trusted boyfriend. Michelle finally manages to free herself from this cycle of abuse. This is her true story of her escape. It is Michelle's hope that her story will encourage others who are trapped in abuse to seek freedom.

    From canoe camping next to unnamed lakes, to kayaking in Alaska’s pristine waters, she describes her many encounters with the bears, moose and other animals that make this wilderness their home. With her partner David she helped to build a cabin on a remote piece of property, off the grid and accessible only by boat. Illustrated with the photos she took along the way, her story is sometimes comic, and sometimes tragic, but throughout its pages she speaks with the voice of one who loves nature and the wilderness.

    There are no attack dogs barking, no guards shouting. After weeks of evading the Soviet Army by marching their captives around Germany, the Nazis have finally given up and evaporated into the night.Rutka embarks on a harrowing journey back to Poland that lands her at the Catholic boarding school where she'd hidden from the Gestapo until her capture. Here, among the few tattered remnants of her childhood, the tragic past begins to seep through: the assumed Christian names, the mother who risked everything to find her lost husband and the sister torn from Rutka's arms by the police.Confronted by unimaginable loss, Rutka nonetheless finds friends, joy and slowly, a whole new life in the United States.