Saturday, January 2, 2010

Oswald Story

Oswald Story
My name is Theodore W. Oswald.
I received the name Oswald from my father, James H. Oswald, whose great grandfather, Jacob, brought the name to America, from what is present-day Zurich/ Switzerland, during the 19th century. One of Jacob's sons, Frederick, my grandfather's father, was employed at Madison, Wisconsin, as a locomotive engineer. My father, James, prior to his detention by the State of Wisconsin, was emp­loyed in many occupations. He was college educated, immediately after grad­uating high school at Arcadia, California, where he had lived with his par­ents. James was originally educated in sociology, receiving a bachelor's of arts in that field. However, after graduating from the University of Cali­fornia at Santa Barbra, he studied for and received license as a certified public accountant. With that license, James worked for various firms, one of which was in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, where his wife, at the time, Susan, gave birth to me and my two sisters. James was about to reach the age of 31 years, when his first legitimate child was born.

I was James, first child. My father had been cultivating eccentric notions, when I was born. Attempting to refine those notions, many of which were mani­festations of neglected psychotic and schizophrenic proclivities, my father utilized his educated intellect to segregate me from, primarily, my mother, and, secondarily, extended family, and the larger community. He did not, however, utilized his methods of vilification and acclamation, punishment and reward, and indoctrination, to segregate me from my sisters; indeed, he encouraged my love, respect, and loyalty to them. My father was delusional, and, as I grew up, he and I became more isolated from family and community. When I was nine or ten years old, in Clairmont, California, my mother, whom James had been vilifying for years, left the house, as a result of his threats, promises, and manipulations.

When I was 12 years old, living in Arcadia and San Clemente, California, my father took me and my sisters to Colorado Springs, Colorado, not having notified our exhaustively vilified mother. Three months later, our searching mother found her three children. She ini­tiated legal proceedings, to acquire governmental assistance in being a responsible parent for her children. But my father, who had many charact­eristics of a responsible parent, manipulated me to cut off all bonds to my mother, with the government's approval.

When I was 13 years old, my father moved to Watertown, Wisconsin, where we lived with his elderly, childless aunt. I had played on sports teams of youth leagues for baseball and ice hockey, and I continued to be involved in organized athletics and public schools, in addition to my father's obsessive indoctrination and quasi-military training at home, but I had established no friendships and heterosexually adolescent romances, which survived the continuous geographical relocations. I had no ties to the community, or family, save my father.

Although I had significantly improved my grades in public school, during my junior year, at Watertown Senior High, my father taught me that I had forsaken his poor man's goals. His scholastic goals for me were extraordinarily delusional, considering his tactics for raising one son, but his remedy for my "failures" in public education was more so. The remedy was unconditional withdrawal from all honest association, outside his quagmire of psychotic delusions.

The remedy was to finish the segregation and enslavement of his teenage son, me, and to dedicate himself and me, to prepare to shoot to death, or kill my mother and other estranged family members, and to "die in battle, with sword in hand," with his son. I felt that my mother and estranged family members ought not to die, but be left to live; but I was not able to persuasively "debate" with my father, as to the rationale for letting than live, in spite of their past "wrongs" to him. My only guidance for my conflicting feelings for my father's complex and educated plans for violent revenge was my father, who had fed me, clothed me, sheltered me, protected me, indoctrinated me, and reminded me that he had done so.

I had sought fraternization in the local communities, but, because I had nothing tangible to give, I had been unsuccessful in those encounters. After my removal from ice hockey, at age 15, and from high school, at age 16, no one from Watertown, or the other communities that I had lived in sought me out. All other encounters were qualified as nothing more than deceptions, for James, dedications to revenge and violent death. I did have dreams, despite the delusional quagmire and the preparations for armed conflict, but I had not developed those dreams, as I bargained with "my father."

In high school, I had had fascinations with computers and genetic engineering. I knew I was a heterosexual, but I also counseled myself, in that respect, that I had to settle my unspoken visceral loyalties to my mother's and estranged family's lives, with my bond to my father, before I should move on as a man. Conflicting with my father's private dedication to "commit suicide by cop," I preferred to live, but I was deluded by his delu­sions, so that I miscalculated my options for my and my family's future. Less than two years later, at the age of 18 years, I was apprehended, with my father, by a secular government, following an armed conflict with their security forces. The security forces had been instigated by armed robberies. My father and I, however, did not "die in battle, with sword in hand," and, instead, were "taken into custody," by a government.

The government has since disposed of "the facts" of that armed conflict, in which one of their personnel was killed. The present government has dis­posed of "the case," by having incarcerated me, and my father for over 15 consecutive years, with no prospect, for me, for liberation, until, possibly, 01 March, A.D. 2234, when I will have reached the age of 258 years, if I should not have passed away by that day. At the onset of the government's hopelessly ordained incarceration, I disa­ssociated myself from any communication with James H. Oswald, although I would see him, during the government's first round of "trials," when he informed me that ne knew I was nearby.

My father would also occasionally send me letters, to provide his advice, and in those letters, he abandoned details of his preceding plans for familial revenge and violent death. I understood that I was free of those plans, and I understood that my father was no longer a credible danger to my mother, my family, or even to me. Imme­diately following the armed conflict, my father was captured by a formidable organization, a government, and it was likely that that organization would continue his captivity for many years to come, if not until he passed away. I continued that posture for several years, while incarcerated by a present governmental group, at Green Bay Correctional Institution. During that time, I continued my formal education, completing a few college courses, by corres­pondence.

I reflected on my childhood, which resulted in an adulthood con­fined "behind bars," with no promised possibility of emancipation. I was at Green Bay Correctional Institution from October 1995 to February 2004, while I aged from 19 years to 23 years. I have been at Waupun Correc­tional Institution, since February 2004, where I reached the age of "30" years.

I don't have much to say, at this time, in this venue, about my prison life. It has been a bleak existence, in reality, although there are multiple app­roaches, methods, and schemes, by which to occupy the "time," as the potentials of youth's dreams vanish, to performing a hopeless "sentence," and the throes of physical aging set in. I've had numerous acquaintances, since prison life began, and a few friends. One of my friends, Jane, has been my adopted mother consistently for 15 years. Another friend, Jamie, who is incarcerated, "for life," and has been so at Green Bay Correctional Institution, has maintained contact.

Over the past year, Jane and Jamie, who have not been formally introduced, assisted me with a learning experience, for the sake of liberation from prison life, in the foreseeable future. Prison life is like being on a large boat, governed by an authoritarian admin­istration, in which I have little influence; but the boat never reaches port. Meanwhile, Jane has brought me some experience, regardless of the circum­stances, although I have established no career and family of my own, except, of course, whatever can be said of adaptations of career and family for inde­finite detention with a bunch of silly men, most of who have "out" dates.