Here’s a little memory
About a child’s fate
The Saga of a little girl
And we will call her Kate
Events in life that changed her
When she was only eight
Having fun as time passed by
But it was getting late
1 more sale almost home
The competition great
In the lead and number one
And she was only eight
Up the street and over 1
Was a sale super great
The family that lived there
Back in 1978
She walked up the driveway happily
Would she sell six boxes or 8
The boy said Mom’s here
Step inside and wait
She stepped inside nervously
Then in a frantic state
As the top latch was secured
And she was only eight
They chased her to and fro
Back and forth and straight
Desperation taking hold
As she tried to escape
It seemed slim with four of them
And she was only eight
Kate followed their demands
Wanting out she wanted to escape
Wishing she could go home
Instead they sealed her fate
It’s hard to explain to anyone
Being raped when you are eight
Katherine Spitzer
#poetry #trauma #ptsd
What would pain look like if you could paint or draw a picture…
My twin brother, Colin, was 11 years old when he put PAIN on paper for me. I can look at this picture for hours. While I am not my brother, my perspective comes from being the same fragile age, with eyes that were witness to life in our home.
By Colin Andrew Hilsmann (1982) 11 years old – 1st Place. Washington Square Mall, Portland, OR
TRIGGER WARNING – Please take care of your mental health and be aware that this post contains true stories of Child Abuse and violence against children resulting in death. If this is a topic that is may be too close to home or is simply just not within your comfort level, please SKIP this post.Your OWN PERSONAL mental health is truly more important than my post.
At 11, you are FRAGILE. You are going from elementary to middle school, a transition from being the oldest to the youngest of classmates. That transition from 6th to 7th, is an extremely vulnerable time for kids. 12 year olds do not have the maturity of upper classmates that are 14 to 15. Their hormones are not at the same level, their motivations are not the same and hopefully their life experiences are not the equal because they have been sheltered from “real life”
God, I wish we had been sheltered, protected, and allowed to remain innocent just a little longer.
At the age of 10, we were rocked when our classmate, co-ed soccer teammate, playmate and good friend from 1st grade on, Joseph “Joey” Kuehl died in the night from a brain aneurysm. We saw the ambulance outside his home while we road our bikes past his house on the way to school. Nothing could have protected us from reality that death could reach out and snatch us from the world at any moment.
In 4th grade, I was 9, my friend Johnny was here one day and gone the next. We never spoke about it but I knew that he was being abused by his father. We played together every day he was allowed. For an entire month or more, he was made to completely ignore my presence, his little sister was able to tell me briefly that he couldn’t risk going against his dad. His mom, sister and he fled their home in the night while their dad was at work. I went up to his house and knocked on the door, his dad answered and I asked for Johnny, his dad said he was gone, “they are all gone”. The following day, I was pulled out of class and told to go to the principal’s office. An Oregon State Trooper was waiting to question me. You are Johnny’s best friend, What did I know, what had Johnny said about leaving, did he say goodbye, where did he tell me they were going, You do know its wrong to lie to the Police… I have no idea what ever happened to Johnny, but I do know that they got away.
Then came Sunday, May 3, 1982. My friend, Wendy Ann Harris, left her home, walked around the corner and Vanished
Wendy Ann Harris, age 11
It was approximately 6:00 pm on a quiet Sunday Evening. Wendy’s destination was 6, SIX houses away. Most of the “corners” were just curves in the road. No one saw a thing, you know how the story goes, things like that don’t happen here, until they do. Wendy wanted to drop off a picture at a friend’s home. Her friend wasn’t home but the friend’s 15 year old stepbrother was, and when questioned, told police that Wendy had never arrived.
Cedar Mills From Above
The following day, when we arrived at school, we got the news. At 6 pm on a Sunday night, kids were inside having dinner, and baths to get ready for the next week. It was still light outside, this time of year, it was not usually dark before 8-8:30 p.m. It was an innocent thing to do and she should have been completely safe.
We went to bed totally oblivious to what was happening just a few miles away, but it would be the last night of sound sleep we would have for quite some time. Sadly kids going missing in the late ’70s and early ’80s wasn’t really considered “NEWS” worth reporting on TV.
Wendy’s Class Picture
Wendy was a very bright and friendly kid. She was fun and we laughed a lot. I never saw her be negative or mean to anyone ever. She was kind, loving and a friend.
The Bluffs, were the homes on the hill above ours, and we were separated by a huge farm that was on a busy road. The kids from that neighborhood were far enough from the school that they had to ride the bus to school. The Bluffs were a new subdivision that was developing over the previous couple of years. New homes meant more families, as well as, more kids. Because of increased class sizes, at the end of 5th the district was rezoned. Beginning 6th grade, all of our friends in the Bluffs went to a different school. Although we didn’t see each other daily, Wendy was still my friend. Besides, we all knew that we would all be reunited in 7th grade at the Jr. High School. If Only… the world wasn’t so cold, so cruel, and so random.
Monday, May 4th, the 3 TV stations were reporting news of a missing girl from Cedar Mills. We were just children. We certainly could not be affected by something so terrifying as a child, whom we knew and played with, our age, could just vanish. It would be generous to say this was within a 4 mile Radius. We were required to go to school and behave like everything was fine, but it wasn’t. In addition, no teacher or school district psychologist, ever sat down with us to talk about how we felt. No one ever attempted to prepare us for the possibilities. We were left to use our own resources. Reading the newspaper and listen to the news reports, as well as our classmates chatter and the unfiltered mumblings of the adults around us of the rumors.
Late on Tuesday night, the 5th, or in the early morning hours of Wednesday, the 6th, the police received a call regarding Wendy’s disappearance. A female had called in and stated that she believed that her boyfriend might be involved.
The female said that she had broken up with her boyfriend on Saturday, and Sunday night he called and said “look at what you made me do, you made me so angry that I had to hurt something, and she was right in front of me. Now she is DEAD, because of you.”
The female was Keri K. and her boyfriend was Eric Merrill, the 1st person police spoke to, once Wendy was reported missing on Sunday. He was the 15 year old who answered the door at Wendy’s friend’s house, 6 doors away from the safety of her own home.
The Murderer invited her, and by telling her that her friend was indeed home, successfully tricking her. Once Wendy stepped inside, he blitz attacked her, knocking her unconscious. He then dragged her limp body down into the basement to his bedroom. He grabbed his hockey stick and beat her to death with it. Then stuffed her into a garbage bag and under the cover of darkness, carried Wendy’s body into the nearby woods where we played as kids. She remained there for the next 3 days, while he went to school like nothing ever happened. Taking the 3 broken pieces of hockey stick, still cover in blood, brain matter and Wendy’s hair, to school and put them inside his assigned school locker.
Keri K. was the 14 year old girlfriend, who reported the murderer’s confession to the police, told them where they could find the murder weapon. They found it in his locker and arrested him. He told police where they could find her body, and the search for Wendy Ann was over on Wednesday May 6, 1982.
Never Again, have I been the same person that I was on the afternoon of Sunday May 3, 1982. To consider the fact that someone who was just a few years older than us, as well as, the same age as some of our own siblings, was capable of doing something so abhorrent. I don’t think anyone of us who knew Wendy, could ever look at this world the same way.
How could we ever be the same???
The murderer pleaded not guilty in the Juvenile Justice System for the State of Oregon. When he was 16, he was declared guilty. But because he was 3 months shy of his 16th birthday, he could not be sentenced as an adult. Instead he was sent to an Oregon State reform school.
His sentence was to be held there until his 21st Birthday. He was let out just in time to celebrate his 21st birthday at the bar with his family and friends.
Juvenile Court does not have a supervised parole for crimes including Murder, when the perpetrator is under 16 at the time of the crime. They just open up the door and let them walk away.
They have no criminal record from the Juvenile System — P E R I O D – – – NONE. Regardless to whether or not they are “reformed”. They are 100% free, and there is no warning signs attached that point out to society that they are any different than you or I.
How About That for getting away with the ABSOLUTELY Viscous Murder of an 11 year old child
Stars will fade with passing time
Darkness will fall as a sign
Like a shadow cast aside
Casting doubt and love divides
Leaving one to wonder why
As pain filled tears escape the eyes
Even though we try and try
It is where love is left behind
As a memory of two lovers bind
That eventually ends in suicide
When loves light ceases to shine
Where the past, scars the mind
As promises have turned to lies
Leaving pain one cannot describe
A shattered path once defined
Too scattered to ever be realigned
Leaving wishes to hit the button rewind
To stay true to this love of mine
The way that God has designed
A simple gift of sunshine
A ray along this bumpy ride
Leading us to reunite
Or again, at least to try
To find the link between you and I
To once again let sparks fly
Like when I first laid my eyes
Upon you.
Katherine Spitzer
Here I am alone
I thought you would be here
Forever means nothing
An illusion I chose to create
From words so often spoken
Words I chose to believe
Foolish of an innocent heart
Innocent of love, but not pain
I guess I expected more
Something better from you
I was wrong to trust
With my innocent heart
I was wrong to trust you.
Katherine Spitzer 1991
Let’s do something new
Let’s play a game
Upon the end see if
You remember my name
Close your eyes
If you trust me
Take a breath
Counting slowly
One two three
Now open your eyes
What do you see
Can you say
In your time of need
That you are able to
Count on me
What if I said
Eyes can deceive
That my existence
Is not a reality
Close your eyes
Count three two one
Open your eyes again
Poof I am gone.
Katherine A Spitzer
I want to be
A thick crystal vase
Etched and Strong
Hard to break
Or maybe like
A granite mountain
Instead of
An ice sculptured fountain
Where the warmth of the air
And flowing water cause
It to lose form and disappear
Why are we made
In such a fragile form
Why aren’t we more like turtles
Able to hide from a storm
I envy the thought
Of having a thick shell
To protect against
Each of life’s little hell
With a lions strength
So full of courage
That I would not break
With just simple words
I want to be fierce
But I wasn’t made that way
I am little more than
The tears I cry today.
My heart cannot hear Love’s beckoning call
It is unable to penetrate these walls
Surrounding my heart like a sacred place
Letting nothing enter, leaving only empty space
Loneliness consumes this hole of tears
Letting them spill, flowing from my eyes
Through my heart with painful cries
Nothing lives in this broken heart of mine.
05/26/1988
God it must be So hard to be you It is hard to look around and see With just my eyes of two While You see everything All who are wicked and cruel So many lost souls, wandering With all the sadness in this world
God, do you cry When you look around Are the rains in the sky Your tears falling to the ground I have so many questions inside Surely there are answers to be found Is it Your anger in the clouds As lightning flashes and thunder sounds
I know that you see the needs As well as the callous and fake I see all the greed It causes my heart to break God, when you look at me Do you think that you made a mistake When will my heart be set free Where there is joy for I to partake
How much pain you must feel When you look at this place You made a land so beautiful That no man could ever replace A world that was so plentiful Just for man to throw it away Is sadness something you can conceal Or do tears just spill down your face
It is so hard at times When it comes to push and shove We are made by your design Knitted in your love Do the mountains in the sky Climb high enough For you to hide behind When things get rough
Within the pain and the lies How are you able to forgive You can set the darkness aside With the sun as your sweet kiss So then, would you touch me deep inside Freeing me from the misery of all this Seeking shelter within your shield of might Within Your grace and promises. Katherine Spitzer March 31, 2022
Kat's Gems 