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Thread: WADE FRAZIER : A Healed Planet

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    United States Avalon Member Wade Frazier's Avatar
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    Default Re: WADE FRAZIER : A Healed Planet

    Hi:

    Right after making that post on Ed, I discovered that Lydia Sargent died last month. She co-founded South End Press and Z Magazine, which were Edís and Noamís primary publishing conduits for many years, ever since their first joint effort was spectacularly censored. Here is the eulogy from Michael Albert, her business partner for a half-century. Michael, like so many on the Left, is a materialist, which comes through loud and clear in his eulogy. He will be pleasantly surprised one day.

    Awe-inspiring work, Lydia, and you are definitely missed.

    See you soon,

    Wade
    My big essay, published in 2014, is here.

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    United States Avalon Member Wade Frazier's Avatar
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    Default Re: WADE FRAZIER : A Healed Planet

    Hi:

    I canít speak for others with eidetic memories, but I have always hated rote memorization, and refused to do it. The only exception I can think of was memorizing my lines for acting.

    During my first year at Cal Poly, that only class that I got a B in was probably the most worthless class that I ever took. Management classes in general were worthless, but that class was some kind of survey class, and the textbook was filled with gossip and trivia. Test questions were literally like, ďOn what page was Lee Iacocca quoted on his opinion of Chrysler?Ē The only way to get an A was to literally memorize the entire chapter, including the page numbers, and I refused to play along. It was like filling my mind with garbage.

    My intermediate accounting classes that year were the ďweed out classesĒ in the accounting curriculum, and are the hardest classes in any accounting program. The accounting theory portion of the CPA exam nearly all came from intermediate accounting classes. For me, those classes were harder than the calculus classes for scientists that I took. The most conceptually challenging classes were my favorites, but even in my second semester of calculus, the teacher made us memorize calculus trigonometry functions, that was about when I dropped out of my math-science studies, and when that voice would soon talk to me.

    I recall that when I was six, I made a commitment to never forget those memories from when I was two, and I recall revisiting those memories over the years as I grew up, and how purposefully remembering them seemed to keep them fresh. But, that was the only time that I did something like that. For the rest of my memories, they are just there. Sometimes, Iíll ďplayĒ memories about events, when I am looking for something specific, to see if it comes up, and sometimes it will. I canít do it like I used to, as I become an old man. But having an eidetic memory is pretty involuntary. Also, I burned out on ďbrain teasersĒ at about age 10, and have refused to do them ever since. I suppose that some good can come out of that, but I always wanted to use my mind on a meaningful goal, not just to do something that might be exercising some mental muscles.

    It was only years later that I came to realize that all of that accounting knowledge that I gained was in the service of a worthless profession. I keep score for the capitalists today, and likely will for the rest of my career. That voice has plenty of explaining to do.

    I remember how I thought with each of these birthdays: 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, and 60. Each one was a kind of time-marking exercise for me, as I thought about what was behind me and what might lie ahead. I turned 10 a few months after winning the Serra Elementary spelling bee, and my parents seemed to realize that they had a prodigy on their hands when I was a toddler, but it was not until winning that spelling bee that I began to realize that I was rather talented. But I was still a Boy Scout, and there was really no ego in it for me back then. I was expected to do great things, and I felt a responsibility to live up to it. I overheard my father telling some relatives about my high IQ, around the time that I was placed in my first gifted programs. I think that it put pressure on me to hear that.

    My bookworm status never really changed, and I read everything that I could get my hands on, including the tabloids that my mother brought home from the grocery store, which I gave up at age 13, when a childhood friendís nuclear physicist father had his son take me to task for reading junk like that. I gave up TV at age 18, which was my motherís other bad habit that she gave me. The incongruity of my fatherís IQ being about twice my motherís did not strike me while growing up. But after I left home, I increasingly did not have much in common with my mother, and we grew apart.

    What is coming on this thread are key memories of my lifetime, and how they impacted me. Some impacts were obvious while they happened, while other impacts did not become evident until years later.

    Best,

    Wade
    Last edited by Wade Frazier; Yesterday at 15:41.
    My big essay, published in 2014, is here.

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    United States Avalon Member Wade Frazier's Avatar
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    Default Re: WADE FRAZIER : A Healed Planet

    Hi:

    When I went through my memory box recently, I unsuccessfully looked for a comment that an early-grade teacher made, and maybe in summer school, about my fascination with nature. Iíll probably never know just what all was stolen.

    That teacherís comment might be the earliest hint at where I was heading. In third grade, my parents sent my brother and me to a Saturday morning science class at a museum. During that year in Texas, we visited relatives and two my grandfatherís pals from his World War II days. One relative, my paternal grandmotherís half-sister, had a home on the shores of a lake near Brownsville, Texas. As I recall, that great aunt shot at an animal while we were there, which is typical rural Texan behavior. As we drove the backroads when visiting them, some roads were literally lined with mounds of fossils. I believe that they were Permian fossils, mostly reef remnants, perhaps. How do you keep young boys from that? We eagerly played in fossil mounds, and I found one particularly interesting rock, which seemed to have skin on it. It took it to my Saturday science teacher, and he tentatively identified it. It became a prized possession, and when we moved back to California a few months later, I brought it with me. Not long after we moved to Ventura, my prized fossil rock went missing, and I donít know if it just got tossed into the garden as worthless, or it was a conscious theft.

    I vividly remember the look that my father gave me when I was in third grade, after an hour-long checkers game with him, when he said that he had a new game to teach me. By the fifth grade, I had read all of the paleontology books at Serra Schoolís library, and read the World Book Encyclopedia each night in bed, as the family library was in my room. By age 12 or so, I could probably recite most of the records in the Guinness Book of World Records. I was an information and learning junkie. By about age nine, I read the newspaper daily, which lasted into my early 30s. I stopped reading newspapers altogether by the late 1990s, partly because of the rise of the Internet, and partly because of what I discovered about the ďnews.Ē Trying to parse the truth from the lies can be a dismaying and wearying task, and I eventually decided that newspapers just were not worth the time and effort any longer. I understand why Ed and Noam kept analyzing the media, and getting Edís monthly articles in Z Magazine was infinitely more edifying than reading the paper.

    I clearly recall my fascination while reading about my beloved trilobites, Cambrian seas, and the like. I had toy dinosaurs, mammoths, pterodactyls, and the like, which were not unusual child possessions in those days. I was precocious, but I really did not see myself as any different from my friends and neighbors, in a middle class boomer neighborhood. But that all began to change one June morning, soon after I turned 12, when my mother walked into the kitchen and announced that the corn flakes I was eating were bad for my health. That was my first introduction to alternatives. As I think back to that morning, just how I was different may have been in evidence, as I soon discovered. I did not receive my motherís comment with indignation, as I literally had my spoon in my mouth, but wanted to know more. I think that I read Stale Food Versus Fresh Food that morning.

    At age 12, I was not exactly a candidate for a heart attack, but my father was, and I had no resistance at all to that new diet, and I rarely ďcheated.Ē But, when I began telling friends about our dietary change, I was shocked by the indignant reactions. They called it crazy, and the like, and they really did not want to know more. That was in Southern California, where all fads started, and healthy diets became a fad. In 1976, a song about a secret junk food junkie became a hit, and I was teased about my diet into my 30s, and in Ohio, as a vegetarian, I was treated like a celebrity of sorts. Nobody in Ohio was threatened by my habits. It was more like I was a mythical creature that people had heard of in legend, and they finally got to see one. It was gently amusing by that time. More than 40 years after reading Stale Food Versus Fresh Food, and a generation after it was banned in the USA, I discovered that mainstream medicine adopted the advice in that banned book. Seeing that arc, as well as with my fasting practices, as they are now in vogue, and vegetarian foods are the hot new capitalist play, are some of the more amazing experiences of my lifetime, as I watched marginalized, ridiculed, and banned practices go mainstream.

    Best,

    Wade
    My big essay, published in 2014, is here.

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    United States Avalon Member Wade Frazier's Avatar
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    Default Re: WADE FRAZIER : A Healed Planet

    Hi:

    I stopped trying to interest anybody in my life in alternative medical treatments many years ago. Those experiences with alternative diets, when I was 12, began to prepare me for how people react to anything out of the mainstream, and I never was successful with getting anybody with degenerative diseases to try an alternative, even those who had been given death sentences by orthodox medicine. I watched them embrace certain death over even questioning their indoctrination, which I soon came to realize was normal. When my former assistant asked me what I would have done, with her diagnosis, I was surprised that she would even ask. I threw her some names, but really didnít expect her to do anything with them. She didnít, and was dead six months later.

    A longtime pal, who arranged my first visit to Gillilandís ranch, has a wife who was diagnosed with breast cancer six months ago. He asked me back then what alternatives were available, although he did not expect his wife, a nurse, to try any of them. I gave him my usual suggestions of Gaston Naessens, Ralph Mossís investigations, etc.

    Now, six months later, after the usual brutal methods of orthodox therapy and no improvement, of course, his wife is now willing to maybe add some alternatives on top of the orthodox treatments. He asked me yesterday what I could recommend, I found myself surfing a little, and discovered that Gaston passed on in 2018, at the ripe age of 94. I spoke with his wife for an hour back in 1997, as Gaston never spoke good English. Ralph investigated Gaston a generation ago, and was impressed, and there is plenty out there on Gastonís discoveries and treatment.

    Fare you well, Gaston,

    Wade
    Last edited by Wade Frazier; Yesterday at 21:19.
    My big essay, published in 2014, is here.

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