This web site contains stories of physical, mental, emotional, and sexual child abuse.

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There are not too many things I cannot do, if I really put my mind to it. I've always been the type of person who could fix almost anything. Had I been in need of a light before Thomas Edison’s time, I probably would have been the individual who invented the light bulb.

My friend Danny once told me that if he were ever stranded in a desolate place because of a plane crash that he hoped I would be with him, because I would be ‘the one’ who would be able to build a ‘mansion of a shelter’ from absolutely nothing at all. He said he knew without a doubt that he could always depend on me, because there was nothing in the world that I could not fix or repair.

It is a very good feeling to know that one can be of value to others, especially in a time of crisis.

I never really understood why people would say that about me. I mean everyone has a brain. That means that everyone should be able to do exactly what everyone else can do. However, now that I am much older, I understand that is not always true. I guess that explains why there are artists, singers, plumbers, waitresses and writers - all different types of people who can all do different types of things. That is what makes the world such a wonderful place.

Well, I received a telephone call and was told that my best friend Danny, who lives in California, is in need of a liver transplant. I just stood there, my mind blank, not knowing what to say or do. I stood there in a daze with the telephone pressed against my ear and my mind racing at full speed trying to find a solution to his problem. Impulse after impulse, faster than the speed of light, instantly shot through every file that had ever been stored inside my brain. But nothing that I could find seemed to be of any use or value. I am afraid that I have finally found a problem that even Roger Dean Kiser cannot fix.

On November 10th, Judy and I will board an airplane at the Jacksonville, Florida Airport and head out west to Modesto, California to see my best friend, Danny.

For this trip, I am afraid my suitcase will be totally void of duct tape, wire, glue, wood strips, clay and paper. The metal detectors at the airports will not have to worry about me setting off any alarms. For all that I can bring with me this time is a tearful heart, a silent prayer and the memories of a wonderful friendship that lasted for more than 30 years.

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