Racing Thoughts of the Humanitarian Mind

2014-02-28T11:37:00.005-08:00

He'd hate the wind chimes, but he'd be excited about the rain. There would be plastic along the back kitchen wall where water ran under the house if left to its own devices.
Old gutter spider webbed through the yard to direct water so that it didn't erode the bank.
Living on a hill has it's burdens. There's a price to be paid for a view.

I was there putting down fertilizer this week and the wheel ended up in my hand.

He'd taken me down to the yard about a month prior to his death. He wanted me to know about all of the faucets and how to keep the grove going. Never mind that I had been given watering instructions on a dozen other occasions at least.

He wanted to show me how to put the shed door back on the track. The door had separated from the quarter sized wheel that slid along in the track. If one was gentle enough with the door, it could be pushed back together so that it held rather than falling to the ground.

I found out a couple of months ago that the shed was going to be demolished and replaced. So much had changed since dad split his body a year ago, but I was shaken. He'd given me a task. Keep the door on the track. I wanted to visit the shed prior to it's demise, but it didn't look as though that would be possible.

Logic would seem to hold that it's just a thing, and that Pop isn't there, but I had helped construct the shed and it was different than the other parts of his life that had been and were still being dismantled all around.

Then fate changed things and I got to have a last moment with the shed. I apologized to the spirit of the squirrel that I'd dispatched for mom. I touched the paint cans that had Pop's writing on it. "hall bathroom" "back bedroom trim". I nuzzled the tools seeking his smell.

When I attempted to take what I came for I ran into a wall. The wheel was hopelessly trapped in the track. A faucet adapter beckoned and I grabbed that, gave up, and walked away. The tears stopped a bit later as I sat with my dog at the top of the property.

So now, a year and a half later, we prepare for rain by throwing fertilizer after weeding and raking out the wells beneath trees that are in their 7th decade of life.

The metal shed had been replaced with a fancy, lit, concrete floored shed. Dad would have liked it well enough, but he would have ventilated it better and put in more shelves for stuff. He likely would have it filled, too...

My mind still racing with the rough news of the past few weeks. A blow in life that happens, and you just go through it and move along. I had hoped it would be a staccato moment, but what I hope for and what I get so rarely coincide. Waves had battered me over the span of three weeks. My heart felt broken as I moved along without a thought about anything that was present.

And then there it was next to my hand as I pulled a weed from under his juice orange tree. I grabbed it and pushed off of my heels to sit on a stone while jolts of emotion poured through me. That quarter sized plastic wheel that wouldn't let go of the shed. Right there. All of that dirt. All of those trees.

I'm an atheist. These moments don't make me believe in a god, they make me believe in a consciousness that doesn't stop when the body leaves.

Dad's OK with that.

it was safe until it wasn't

2013-08-31T13:43:00.002-07:00

exceptional day until it happened.

the bicycle ride to the harbor, aided by a lift out of the city traffic by the bus was perfect. Early, as usual, i listened to music on a deck over a marina, gazing across the masts towards the beach on the opposite side of the boat access channel.

The motor sail to see the old sailboats was better than expected, the crew, the food, the music. I was energized, relaxed and happy to ride the distance home and to my 4pm appointment after that.

i saw him the same way i've seen certainly thousands of others. transient, walking, lumbering... no need to worry, they're mostly harmless and it didn't even register that he wasn't one of the "mostly" until it was too late.

he'd lunged at me and grabbed for my groin. the bicycle seat and my left leg on the upswing of the pedal, along with a hard motion to the right saved me from the intended sexual violation. he'd only contacted my leg. and maybe the fabric of my shorts.

the adrenalin turned quickly into shock as i turned and looked back at his large lone figure walking quickly along the pathway. there was nobody in front of me and the traffic was whizzing by in a blur.

I called the sdpd non emergency number while turning my bike and attempting to focus on my location for dispatchers. I stopped. maybe what happened didn't really happen. maybe he stumbled. I hung up.

no, my gut screamed. I dialed 911 asked for harbor police dispatch and described my location and what happened while pedaling in the direction the man was walking.

the dispatcher urged me to stop following the man for my safety. "retired le, at a safe distance keeping the suspect in eye's view"

dispatch "are you armed"

me "no, i'm following at a safe distance"

more back and forth

and then "oh shit, he just got someone else"

he'd lunged at a single female jogger, that had nobody behind her to witness the act. he hadn't realized that i was following him. the shock on her face, her instinctive duck and the arm swing prevented him from grabbing her breast.

the look on her face is seared into my soul.

now i'm pedaling more quickly, one hand on the phone, while also signaling to the girl that i saw it and that i've called the police.

we followed him together for the half a block that it took to be in front of harbor police station and i continued to keep him in view while she ran inside to notify any officers that may be in the station. within seconds armed plain-clothes and uniformed men came running out and the detention had taken place within two minutes.

I'm still shaken.

the man was taken to county mental health and admitted. his history included assault with a deadly weapon, but i'm having a difficult time allowing that to sooth me. yay, he didn't try to hit me with a stick?

even in his stupor he knew to target lone women.

I'm left wondering if the battery will be charged, or if his crime will be minimized so that statistics don't tell the true story:

That you aren't safe running or riding the bay front alone.

unresponsive

2012-06-03T23:31:00.001-07:00

walking by the bar
early closing for the high bucks place
i don't know why they shut it down early sundays
but they do
the normal throngs
spilling into the streets
as i take the dog on a walk
down the safest street
just a block

the crowd is loud and there's a fight
nothing new
girls yelling a guy yelling back
another guy yelling
a girl in someone's arms

on i go
and then i come back

and the girl in someone's arms
is clearly unresponsive
the someone, a young friend
cradling her
another young someone is crying

and there are three guys standing there
after i come back with my phone to make certain
that she's getting the help that she needs

blue shirts, a teal color, almost

i couldn't really make out the insignias
but when i asked who had medical training
they asked me to stand back
rather than answering
or attending to this girl
whose head was twisted into the neck of the young friend

and i ask again, who is trained as a medic
they again tell me to back up
i stand
the man tells me he's been to iraq

i ask him if she's breathing and if someone has made a call to get her medical aid
finally one of them makes a call
and the dispatcher

thank goodness for dispatchers

tells the men to get the girl onto her back
which is what i'm astonished hasn't happened already
but we're getting her there
and i can't tell if she's breathing or not
mostly because my ears are ringing
and there's so much noise

so i ask for a check on the breaths
and get a thumb's up

cradling her head now gently nudging
and then a sternum rub

nothing

and then, viola
about a ten second delay on the second sternum rub

she's opening her eyes
and looking into mine

quickly settling in
trying to get up
but staring into my eyes
she smiles

and when i ask her the questions
she fails
what day is it?
what year is it?
who is the president?
what did you take?

she's smiling and telling me she loves me. seems more like ecstasy, but she's looking at me and breathing and smiling and i'm relieved that she's got a clear airway.

then the city paramedics are there and i move away and pull crying someone who is her friend back along with other someone..

her friend is crying about the GHB and the man that had been attempting to carry her friend away
i realize that was the fight i'd seen on the first trip out, the first pass by

this girl had come fairly close to going with someone when she was unable to answer a question

young someone says the police need to be called, that they have a picture of the man that seemed like he was going to take unresponsive girl away

then the unresponsive girl became a bit combative, obviously confused and scared

nothing i could do
the uniforms were doing their thing

transporting the young lady and getting her whatever help she needed...

i'm holding young someone back, telling her to go take care of herself

i leave, troubled that the young, muscled men in the teal shirts attempted to stop me from rendering aid
wanted the people to just move along and leave
delayed in calling for aid themselves

they said they were there before me, not realizing i'd already passed by twice and come back with my phone to assist...

all the while insisting that they were qualified

qualified to do what??

liability control

i forgot to tell young someone to call the mother of unresponsive/now combative girl
that thought will spin until i step on the brakes

Notifying Valhalla High School, Mary Beth Kastan, Lance Yokum, Jean Pugh, Sam Lund, you have a child molestor at your campus

2011-02-16T11:30:00.000-08:00

Some of these people were informed again, today, of my allegations, which are true, and more facts regarding coach steve sutton.

http://valhalla.guhsd.net/index.php?option=com_content&view=category&layout=blog&id=86&Itemid=150

To: mkastan@guhsd.net; jwillson@guhsd.net; lyocom@guhsd.net; jpugh@guhsd.net; slund@guhsd.net

(mary beth kastan, jo wilson, lance yocum, jean pugh, sam lund)

Hi,
Do any of you have daughters?
Steve Sutton molested me and two other girls that I know of when I was a student at Grossmont High in the late 1970's.
I need to make sure that you are aware that the girls at your school are at risk if Steve Sutton has access to them.
Steve also has a history of assisting the supply of performance enhancing drugs to male athletes.
I know many people that would testify to the fact that not only did Coach Steve Sutton molest me, he also allowed me to drink alcohol, smoke marijuana at his home,
Steve Sutton also assisted his football players in obtaining performance enhancing drugs. DP was involved as was DS and JS. MP was a student that used the steroids and I believe would testify to that today.
RK, who was also employed by grossmont high school, lived next door to steve in 1979 and saw me at his house on a recurring basis.
PC was also a student that was supplied performance enhancing drugs.
I will not stop telling the truth about Steve Sutton as long as you continue to allow him access to minors. The more I think about it, the more details I recall. All of the times he took me in his van and performed oral copulation on me and had me perform it on him. The times that I brought a friend to his home and he molested her while I was in the other room.

http://javgirl.blogspot.com/2011/01/coach-steve-sutton.html

Yes, I have a mental illness diagnosis. Yes, Steve has family in the Sheriff's Department. This does not change the fact that Steve Molested me. The molest at such a formative period of my life left lasting scars that did not ever heal.
You are invited to respond by email, but do not send private investigators to my home. I will be interviewed under controlled circumstances if you wish to glean more information from me in order to protect the students at your school.

(I will post this email to all of you on my blog so that parents can protect their children, as well as posting the information page regarding who all of you are.)

I will repeat, this post would not exist if the allegations were not true. Nobody would allow this to remain in public if it was libelous in nature.

Regards;

Patricia Lundberg

“Compared to football, it’s more relaxing. It’s fun,” [child molester steve sutton] Sutton said. “I’ve always enjoyed coaching it.”

2011-02-15T20:18:00.000-08:00

Of course he enjoys it. He culls girls to molest from his softball teams.

Steve Sutton Molested me when I played for Grossmont High School in the late 1970's.

Now he is the Girl's Softball Coach for Valhalla???

Is he still molesting girls? Does he still encourage drug use?

Is he coaching your daughter?

Valhalla High Softball Coach Steve Sutton: Child Molester

2011-01-07T01:55:00.000-08:00

update: My case is reported. To report your own case, please contact, as in all cases of

suspected child abuse, your local child protective services agency. In San Diego That agency is:

http://www.sdcounty.ca.gov/hhsa/programs/cs/child_welfare_services/child_abuse_hotline.html

His name is Steve Sutton. He was 28 or so, at the time. Unmarried.

Coach Sutton taught at Grossmont High School in the late 1970's and early 1980's. I saw him again at Westhill High in the 1990's.

Steve Sutton molested me.

I was 16 and he was the coach for the high school softball team as well as being a teacher of sorts. Steve groomed me. It started with his suggestion that he massage me and then I return the favor. The massages became increasingly sexual.

Coach Sutton told me that I looked like his ex girlfriend. Coach sat by me on the bus to the games and spent time with me after practice, pretending to listen to what I had to say. He knew nobody else was listening.

Steve gave me little extra tasks to do like bringing in the ball bag. Anything to make an excuse for more time with him.

Steve Sutton gave me a job as a ball girl for the football team so that I had an excuse to be with him.

Coach Sutton molested me in the weight room. We called it "working out."

Steve Sutton called my pubic hairs and what lay beyond them "Muffy".

He and I spent many hours in the back of his silver van.

Steve allowed me into his home, he allowed me to drink alcohol and use drugs there. He molested me there.
He came to my parent's home. He encouraged me to use drugs and Steve molested me there.

Coach Sutton told me that when I turned 18 we would date and he made me believe that I would marry him.

MP lived there. A student, I'm not sure how he ended up in that house. DP lived there, I think some of the brothers.

By the time it was over, I had been passed from one to the next, three adult men in that same home. I was lured by another coach from another school, and then another teacher made an attempt. Were they a little network?

He encouraged it so that I would detach, clingy young girl that I was. I think he wanted or was having my best friend, (NB). I was the one that brought her to his home and introduced her to the freedoms that he offered there.

I've never really said it out loud. Other than when I tried to report it. Nobody cared, Nobody listened. Grossmont Union High School District. Superintendent. Sheriff's Department. Nobody listened, or if they did, they never acknowledged it to me.

He married a woman named Carole Carole Sutton. How did she not know?

You will know this is true by it's existence. Nobody that didn't molest a student would allow something like this to stay public.

Hey Steve, remember when you told me, when I was sitting in that black Z car that you drove; "I won't deny it if you tell."

I'm telling.

What's justice?

Patricia Sue Lundberg

originally posted 1/7/2011 1:15am