A new RA/MC drop-in group

A second CUPP of Hope drop-in group has just been formed! It meets
Mondays 5:00–6:30 PM Pacific Time
Tuesdays 10:00-11:30 AM Melbourne, AUS Time.
Register at

This type of group is very, very needed. On-going groups are truly wonderful, but they can’t accommodate more than a few people, and a member is torn if they have a scheduling problem. Drop-in groups, which do not require weekly attendance, are more flexible. They are ideal for people in crisis, people who have been healing for a long time and who just want to touch base with other survivors, and those with irregular work schedules or other commitments that can’t be reliably scheduled.


Holiday Zoom Open Houses For Survivors of RA/MC

On miserable, triggery days, like the solstices, equinoxes, Christmas, Easter, and “Hallmark Card” days, survivors often choose to be alone rather than be among people who just don’t understand. Now, thanks to ZOOM and joanies, you have a third choice. Bring a meal or a snack to eat together or just hang out with other RA/MC survivors. No need to stay the whole time if you don’t want to.

The next two-hour Open House will be a Fourth of July celebration of our own independence. For the date and time and the registration link, check the Events page at

If you have any questions, contact joanies, the host, at


my life with cats

This is going to be a totally personal entry – the most personal one I have ever written. Nothing at all to do with RA/MC. 

In 1984, I bought two Cornish Rex kittens from the same litter; a girl, Rosie, and a boy, Fargo. They were named after Rosebud, South Dakota and Fargo, North Dakota. That was because their father’s name was Demon Dakota. (Oops, I promised I would say nothing about RA/MC. Just can’t help myself. – it’s such an integral part of my life.) Their mother’s name was Sweet Purrfection, yuck. They were orange cats with white markings.

They lived a long time. Rosie was sixteen when she died, and Fargo lived another year and a half. I thought I would never get another cat because no cat would be as great as they were. Plus, a kitten would surely outlive me, and it wasn’t fair to go and abandon him like that. So there was lots of crying and feeling sorry for myself. “I’ll never sleep with a cat again!”

After a couple of years, I changed my mind and got another orange and white Cornish Rex kitten. I named him Dakota. He lived to be eighteen and a half. Obviously, I was wrong about dying before him and leaving him all alone in a cold world.  

I lost him last September, and, to my surprise, I was not nearly as hesitant about getting another cat. I have no idea why. Am I braver now? More impetuous? More selfish? Who cares? This is the way it is – I want a cat.

I realize I no longer have the energy to chase after a kitten. Fostering is a possibility, but I wouldn’t be good with a cat with behavior problems and I would be heartbroken about having to give up an animal I had grown attached to. The other option is adopting a grown cat, perhaps an elderly one. The two of us could keep each other company as we limped through our golden years.

For months, I knew I wasn’t ready because I kept expecting Dakota to be in another room. My daughter said I had a ghost cat. As Dakota gradually stopped visiting me in his new form, I began checking out and local animal rescue organizations. My friends started asking me if I had found a cat I liked. I liked some well enough, but the chemistry wasn’t there.

I had a few non-negotiable demands. It must be older, short-haired, affectionate, and it can’t be orange. I don’t need an echo of Rosie and Fargo and Dakota. I prefer an open adoption so the previous owner can check that their cat is okay in my home and can even come visit him if they want. I can ask a million questions and send cute pictures. 

It turns out that some non-negotiable things are negotiable after all. 

I looked through the SPCA website. I hadn’t intended to because their process of giving up a cat and adopting one is detailed to the max, and, frankly, I found some of their questions intrusive, even insulting. I just went to look at cat pictures. Lo and behold, the SPCA has gotten far more reasonable! They now have a section called “Animals in the Community,” which lists cats available for private “rehoming.”

And I fell in love at first sight with a white and orange cat with longish hair. I only found out later that if I wanted him, I could no longer have houseplants or bring flowers from my garden into the house. Most are poisonous to cats, and this cat eats lettuce, spinach, flowers, and house plants. For sixty years, I have had houseplants and flowers on the dining room table, the coffee table, my desk, my bedroom, even in the bathroom.

So, of course, this is the wrong cat for me, right? 

His name is Baker. He moved in yesterday morning.

All the plants are gone. The house looks a little empty without plants and flowers, of course. Baker hasn’t found the litter box yet, and I haven’t found what he is using instead. I’ll keep him in the bathroom until he gets acquainted with it. Outside of that, everything is perfect.

He has a fascinating story. His previous owner is a high school English teacher who loves to travel. She had a job in Qatar and rescued him from the street when he was about three months old. He moved to China when she got a job there, then Mexico, then Dubai, and finally the United States. In Dubai, his owner acquired three other street kittens who have grown into feisty teenagers. They pounce on Baker. He is not pleased. And the landlord is not thrilled at having a tenant with four cats. So she decided that Baker should go someplace where he could be an only cat, a calm place with no dogs or children running around, and with one or two people to dote over him and him alone.

His mother was a plain old tabby, but his father was something else entirely. A vet identified Baker as being half Turkish Van. I searched for images of Turkish Vans, and he could easily pass as a purebred. He could stand beside any of those fancy cats in the photos, and nobody would guess that he and his Mom were alley cats.

Vans are rare (only about 100 kittens are born each year in the US) and very distinctive. They are white with orange, black, or calico markings. Their tails are almost always completely colored, and they have irregular markings on their foreheads. Some have spots the size of a quarter as well; these are called “Allah’s thumbprints.” Their fur is soft, the softest I have ever felt. That is because they have no guard hair; they just have the undercoat. 

Cornish Rexes lack guard hair, too, but their fur is very short. I used to call them velvet cats. Baker’s fur is halfway between a shorthair’s and a Persian’s in length, and I can sink my fingers deep into it. So luscious!


meets requirements 
older — Yes
short-haired —  No
affectionate —  Yes
no orange —  No
in good health —  Yes
sits on laps —   Yes
does not type —  Yes
is gorgeous —  Yes
plays catch —  Yes
plays pattycake —  Yes
has blue eyes  —  Yes
likes to swim —  Yes

I don’t need to justify my decision. Love is love, and love can’t be explained.


Upcoming Holidays



Summer solstice

6/23 Midsummer’s Eve

6/24 (?) St John’s Day

7/4 Independence Day
7/13 Full Moon
7/25 St. James’ Day/Festival of the Horned God
7/27 Grand Climax/Da Meur

8/1 Lammas/Lughnasadh
8/11 Full Moon
8/13 Friday the 13th
8/15 (?) Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary
8/24 St. Bartholomew’s Day

Dates Important to Nazi and Neo-Nazi groups

6/4 – 6/6  Shavuot (Harvest Festival, Festival of Moses receiving the Ten Commandments)

(NOTE: Not all groups meet on Jewish holidays. Some groups also mark Candlemas, Beltane, Lammas, Halloween, the solstices, and the equinoxes.


You can find more information on the following holidays at:

Candlemas –
Valentine’s Day –
Beltane –
Mothers’ Day –
Fathers’ Day –
Summer Solstice (corrected text) –
Lammas –
Feast of the Beast/Bride of Satan: Part 1 –
Feast of the Beast/Bride of Satan: Part 2 –
Fall Equinox –
Halloween (personal) – 
Halloween (background) –
Thanksgiving –
Yule/Winter Solstice – 

Ritual Abuse and Fathers’ Day

* SNAP (Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests) offers virtual support groups for all survivors, male survivors, and family and friends of survivors. A listing of all meetings is at:

* And SNAP announced that it will be holding a free virtual conference, instead of an in-person event in Denver. The date will be September 25 – 27. Information is in the middle of their home page.

* You can find more information on the following holidays at:
Summer Solstice (corrected text):
August Ritual Dates:
Feast of the Beast/Bride of Satan: Part 1:
Feast of the Beast/Bride of Satan: Part 2:
Fall Equinox:
Halloween (personal):
Halloween (background):
Yule/Winter Solstice:
Valentine’s Day:
Spring Equinox:
Easter: (personal): (for background, see Spring Equinox)
Walpurgisnacht/May Eve:
Mothers’ Day:


I haven’t written about Fathers’ Day. My parents did not celebrate it, and the cult did not consider it a traditional Satanic holiday. In some other cults, it is a holiday, and children are made to do all sorts of nasty things in honor of their fathers. Satanists can think of an excuse to celebrate absolutely anything. 

I find that it is useful to know the background of a Satanic holiday. Often traditions are lifted from the legitimate holiday and perverted. I Googled Fathers’ Day and found very slim pickings. I also found precious little when I looked up “fathers in ancient Rome,” “fathers in ancient Greece,” etc.

Here’s what I did find.

“The nation’s first Father’s Day was celebrated on June 19, 1910, in the state of Washington. However, it was not until 1972 – 58 years after President Woodrow Wilson made Mother’s Day official – that the day honoring fathers became a nationwide holiday in the United States.” 

“On July 5, 1908, a West Virginia church sponsored the nation’s first event explicitly in honor of fathers, a Sunday sermon in memory of the 362 men who had died in the previous December’s explosions at the Fairmont Coal Company mines in Monongah, but it was a one-time commemoration and not an annual holiday.” 

“The next year, a Spokane,Washington woman named Sonora Smart Dodd, one of six children raised by a widower, tried to establish an official equivalent to Mother’s Day for male parents. She went to local churches, the YMCA, shopkeepers and government officials to drum up support for her idea, and she was successful: Washington State celebrated the nation’s first statewide Father’s Day on June 19, 1910.”

Other states followed suit over the years. 

“In 1972, in the middle of a hard-fought presidential re-election campaign, Richard Nixon signed a proclamation making Father’s Day a federal holiday at last. Today, economists estimate that Americans spend more than $1 billion each year on Father’s Day gifts.”

“In other countries–especially in Europe and Latin America – fathers are honored on St. Joseph’s Day, a traditional Catholic holiday that falls on March 19.”



“In Ancient Rome, fathers were endowed with nearly limitless power over their family, especially their children. This patria potestas, or “the father’s power” gave him legal rights over his children until he died or his children were emancipated. These powers included the right to arrange marriages or force divorce, expose a new born child if he did not want him/her, and even disown, sell, or kill his child. Even though a father had these legal rights, it did not mean these acts were common. Fathers wanted their children as heirs for the continuation of their bloodlines.”

“In infancy, a new born was either accepted into the family by his/her father in a ritual called tollere liberos or the child was exposed by the father, often without the consent of the mother. Exposure differed from infanticide and the abandoned child was often taken and raised by someone else. A child was considered an infant until he/she was seven years old.

“Girls remained in the household to learn the skills they would need as wives and mothers. Legally, a girl was considered a child until she was twelve years old and a boy until he was fourteen years old. Young girls were often engaged at twelve years old and married at thirteen to a man chosen by her father.

“Children cared for their elderly parents because of their belief in pietas, or a sense duty to their parents and the gods.”



I don’t think the quotations about Ancient Rome have much to do with Fathers’ Day, but I included them because they are interesting and because they clearly show the origins of patriarchy in the Western world.

The key phrase in the article on the history of Fathers’ Day is, “Americans spend more than $1 billion each year on Father’s Day gifts.” It started as a sweet thank you to a good man who raised six children alone in the 1800s and rapidly turned into a marketing ploy.

What are my personal feelings about Fathers’ Day?

I am sure that, if my family had observed it, I would have dutifully given my father a hand-made greeting card, which he would have looked at and set aside, probably without a thank you. Perhaps there would have been some candy bought with my allowance. There would have been little emotion involved.

My father, at his best, was not big on feelings. He wasn’t big on expressing love, either in word or actions, because he really didn’t know how to love. He told me to my face that children should be born when they are twelve and have the ability to think logically. 

That made sense. When I was about twelve, he became interested in me and tried to control me in many ways. He looked at my English and history homework and made corrections. He demanded to see the poetry I had started to write and corrected that, too. He forbid me to go certain places and to see certain people. This was attention, if not love, and I became more attached to him. At the same time, I resented it, and wanted to be left alone. I wanted freedom! 

About that time, I entered puberty, and he became interested in me in an additional way. I didn’t understand why, and his attention was very unwelcome. As with everything else in my family, this was not to be spoken of.

So I hit the books. Freud’s “The Interpretation of Dreams” and James George Frazer’s “The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion” were two of the most influential. I remember carefully examining the Oedipus complex as it pertained to me. I came to the conclusion that I did not envy men for their penises; I envied them for their status, money, and opportunities. I considered having sex with my father and decided that he was unattractive and that I had no desire for him. 

Looking back, I was seeking answers to problems I did not know I had. I continued trying to figure out what was wrong with me until the very day I got my first ritual abuse memory. I no longer had to wonder what was wrong with me, I just had to figure out what to do about the damage my abusers had caused.

After my father died, I was a total mess for about two years. Gradually I let go of my negative feelings toward him and I found acceptance and peace. I understood that he had been abused in the cult, just as I had. I understood that he, too, was struggling with issues he did not even recognize and that he had been depressed most of his adult life. 

I could see his avoidance of me as a child as fear of hurting me. I could see his trying to control me as a misguided effort to protect me. I wished he had been given the gift of living in a time when survivors had started to talk openly about ritual abuse. He might have felt less bewildered, less alone. Perhaps he would have had his aha! moment. Perhaps his life would have changed completely, and he would have had a chance to heal, just as I have had.

When I think of him now, I no longer feel angry, I feel sad.


Upcoming Holidays

6/21 Fathers’ Day
6/21 Annular solar eclipse. Visible from parts of Africa (including the Central African Republic, Congo, and Ethiopia), south of Pakistan, northern India, and China. A partial eclipse is visible in south/east Europe, much of Asia, the north of Australia, and much of Africa, Pacific, Indian Ocean. See
6/23 Midsummer’s Eve
6/24 St. John’s Day
7/4 Independence Day
7/4 Full moon
7/4-5 Penumbral lunar eclipse. The moon will turn a shade darker during the maximum phase, visible in North and South America, and Africa. Most penumbral lunar eclipses cannot easily be distinguished from a usual full moon. See
7/25 St. James’ Day/Festival of the Horned God
8/1 Lammas/Lughnasadh
8/3 Full moon
8/15 Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary
8/24 St. Bartholomew’s Day

Dates Important to Nazi and Neo-Nazi groups
6/6 D-Day: invasion of France in WW2
7/30 Tisha B’Av (Day of Mourning)
7/29 Hitler proclaimed leader of the Nazi party

(NOTE: Not all groups meet on Jewish holidays. Some groups also mark Candlemas, Beltane, Lammas, Halloween, the solstices and the equinoxes.)

An Amazing Adventure

* Detailed instructions for making comments are in “News Items.”


I didn’t tell you what I was going to do over Christmas because I didn’t want to jinx myself. A couple of people who learned about it tried their hardest to talk me out of it. I took their concerns seriously and thought of canceling, but decided to do my best to reassure them and go ahead and do what I wanted.

I went to Alaska for a week with two dear friends in hopes of seeing the Northern Lights! I had seen them in Maine as a kid – Northern Lights, not my friends – and remember them as being beautiful. I would lie on my back on the grass and watch them partially obscure the zillion stars visible on dark nights. They looked like sheer white curtains edged in green, waving slowly in the breeze. I knew that, if I saw them again, they wouldn’t look like my childhood Northern Lights, but I was sure they would be gorgeous.

Our adventure started off inauspiciously. We had to change planes in Portland to get to Anchorage. The flight we were supposed to take was canceled because of mechanical problems. There was no back-up plane available, no empty seats at all on any flight on any airline to Anchorage . . . for the next three days. It took us a while to figure out that we couldn’t return home unless we could score a rental car. So it was probably Portland for the next few days, like it or not, assuming we were lucky enough to find a hotel with unbooked rooms. Luckily Portland is the home of Powell’s Bookstore, the world’s largest independent bookstore. ( for those planning to visit Portland soon.)

Suddenly the airline agent announced that there was a “Christmas miracle.” A free plane with seats for all of us was on its way from Seattle! Talk about pulling a rabbit out of a hat! We got to go, after all, just a few hours late. Happy, happy, happy.

As we landed at Anchorage, we were welcomed with Solstice fireworks celebrating the slow return of real daylight. We grabbed some food and staggered into bed for a few hours’ sleep before getting up at five to be driven to the train station for the nine-hour trip to Fairbanks. 

There were only about four hours with enough light to see the scenery. Dawn faded into twilight, and the sun never got over the horizon. I love trains so much! It would have been a treat even if it had been pitch black the whole time. It had a proper dining car and a cafe with snacks and cards and toys for the kids.

We saw a bald eagle, a lot of large ravens, and eleven moose. The moose were in pairs, a mother with her calf, pawing the snow to uncover small trees with tender bark. No bears; they are all asleep this time of year.

Another quick dinner and a few hours of sleep. We spent the next day on a small bus to Coldfoot Camp, which is half-way between Fairbanks and Deadhorse, on the Arctic Ocean. That’s where the oil in the Alaska pipeline originates.

Alaska is vast and sparsely populated. An Internet search yields these statistics: there are only 736,855 people in the whole state; 297,832 of them live in Anchorage, the largest city; 33,645 in Fairbanks, the second-largest; and 84 in Coldfoot. (By the way, there are about 750,000 caribou and 200,000 moose in Alaska.) The reason Coldfoot is that big is that it is the only place to get gas in the 500 miles between Fairbanks and Deadhorse. It also provides amenities for the truckers: overnight truck parking, a restaurant, a bar, showers, parts for minor repairs, and a chance to connect with old friends. Recently, small rooms for tourists chasing the Northern Lights have been added.

On our first night in Coldfoot, we joined a group of young Chinese tourists who had come to see the Northern Lights. Our group had the use of a small log cabin with a wood-fired stove to hang out in. Every now and then, somebody would go outside to see if there was any action. At times, there were very faint lights, barely visible to the naked eye. They looked better in photos with a ten-second exposure, but not by a whole lot. We amused ourselves with short trips to the outhouse. It was thirty below zero – I kid you not. The trick is to sit on your mittens, so you don’t get stuck.

At about three in the morning, we were ready to give up, when the sky exploded with green streaks. They rose from all parts of the horizon and met at the top in swirls. They moved slowly and changed shape for about ten minutes and then faded away. It was absolutely breath-taking.

During the day, we caught up on sleep and took a dog sled ride. Fun but bitter, bitter cold, what with the wind chill factor. Those puppies run fast! The next evening we went back for seconds on the Northern Lights, but there was nothing. It’s okay. I got my wish, and it was far better than I had imagined.

We took a small plane instead of the bus back to Fairbanks, which was fun. Christmas day, we were planning to visit some hot springs outside of Fairbanks, but we were so sleep-deprived that we settled for watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” and a nice meal at the hotel. And then it was time for Anchorage and home.

Now that I am home, how do I feel? Very grateful, but still sleep-deprived! And all sneezy from a head cold. Happy to be back in familiar surroundings, with my cat and my very own bed and temperatures well above freezing. I’m still feeling high from being out of my comfort zone, proud of my courage, and sated with beauty. I’m not 100% percent home; I’m startled that the sun rises at 7:30 and doesn’t set for nine and a half hours. The Internet feels like a luxury – one click of the mouse brings me contact with survivors, my people, my kin. I know there are survivors in Alaska, but I didn’t know how to find them. The days of feeling crazy without constant validation of my past are long over, and I do fine on my own now. But it is so nice not to be alone!

When I sort through our photos, I’ll try to put something up on the blog header, replacing the Christmas tree. I hope there’s a good picture of the Northern lights that will fit the space. No promises – these are amateur photos, remember!


Oh, a note about the reading by Joy Hargo. The first poem she read was the one I posted!!!! My heart swelled, and I burst into tears. She was speaking directly to me, “Put down those potato chips…”


Upcoming Holidays

1/13 Satanic New Year
1/17 Feast of Fools/Old Twelfth Night/Satanic and demon revels
1/20 St. Agnes’ Eve
2/2 Candlemas/Imbolc/Satanic Revels
2/8 Full moon
2/14 Valentine’s Day
2/25 Shrove Tuesday/ Mardi Gras
2/25 Walpurgis Day
2/26 Ash Wednesday
3/1 St. Eichstadt’s Day
3/9 Full moon
3/13 Friday the Thirteenth
3/17 Spring Equinox
3/17 St. Patrick’s Day
3/24 Feast of the Beast/Bride of Satan

Dates Important to Nazi and Neo-Nazi groups=
1/30 Hitler named Chancellor of Germany
2/10 Tu Bishvat/Tu B’Shevat (celebration of spring)
3/10 Purim (Deliverance of the Jewish people from Haman in Persia)

(NOTE: Not all groups meet on Jewish holidays. Some groups also mark Candlemas, Beltane, Lammas, Halloween, the solstices and the equinoxes)