J. Clyde McIlwain
1916 American Expeditionary Forces ID Card
French Territory WW1
We live in his home. His mother, my great grandmother, Henrietta had him first here at the house in 1890. He was beautiful. In all, Samuel and Henrietta McIlwain had four children, James Clyde, George, Russell, and little Nancy. It was the turn of the 20th century. Everything was possible. Henrietta inherited her mother's bakery down in was in now known as Soho/ Duquense area of downtown Pittsburgh called McGovern's Bakery. Samuel was a talented tile setter for Victorian Home fireplaces, bathrooms, and even Peabody High School's swimming pool. They also owned properties all over Pittsburgh as rental income to put all their children through the top schools, college included, even Nancy. At that time, that was very rare. J. Clyde was special. He was the quintessetial oldest son. Brilliant, handsome, and loyal to a fault. By 1914, he had already attained a civil engineering degree from Edinborough University. He entered law school at Duquesne University. While finishing up his law degree, the announcement was made it was time for those loyal to the American Dream to join and fight for their freedoms.
He was shipped off to France as a lieutenant as per his higher education allowed. He believed in what he was told to fight for- the ideals. He believed in the trust given to those directing our country's decisions. On the ground, he simply saw fear, chaos, confusion, and death. At that time, combat was very personal. He watched as his men were sliced in half-- right in front of him. The trauma of the horror showed on his face when the family came to pick him up at Penn Station, downtown. His sharp, black hair had turned pure white. He was only 28 years old. His sparkling blue eyes had gone a faded ice blue. He had also been exposed to the beginning of Monsanto's chemical warfare money makers, mustard gas. We still have his gear and mask. As Henrietta looked at her beautiful boy, she knew he was gone. His soul was. Something had changed. The horrors of what destruction can do, in any name, always have the same result. But he adjusted. There was no "re-hab, no PTSD, and definitely no medical care to toxic exposures. You were told to move on, be a man, and be strong. You served. You are a hero. You are a coward if you think your country owes you anything. You owe your country!
He became a lawyer and married his little sister, Nancy's college roomate, Xelia Jean. She was studying a new concept, psychology. Though he was much older, he admired her intelligence and wit. They married. The Great Depression followed soon after. The banks pulled all the money out of circulation to give the squeeze on everyone's real wealth-- their properties, their gold, their goods, their businesses. Henrietta lost all her properties save our home and the banks were out to get it. It was the most valuable. J. Clyde, lucky to be a lawyer, walked right in the bank with $10,000 cash to save it. They tried to refuse the money! If it had not been for his wits, they would have taken everything-- not so American. In the aftermath, J. Clyde, Xelia Jean, and Henrietta all moved into to the home under financial constraints. It was not easy. So much had been lost from federal bank games. And his mind was slowly going. The mustard gas was beginning to have an effect and living with a strong willed mother and wife.... well just imagine two of me, Oy. They had a son, Jim. They had a daughter, Diane. But something was wrong-- she never developed her mental capabilites past the age of two. I have always wondered about the Monsanto mustard gas toxins affecting her from birth. But at that time, it was customary to blame yourself. So, they did and divided over time. By the time my father was born, the marriage was in its deaths throws. Xelia Jean took Jim and left Diane and baby, David, to find work in Virginia as a psychologist assistant. J. Clyde, turned to his many books, alone, sad, and confused. Most of his attention that could be focused was geared towards Diane with her many needs. David, my father, was left to his own devices, and as J. Clyde's mind deteriorating, he blamed and role played all his tragedies with his little boy who just needed love. Eventually, the mustard seed's effects made J. Clyde completely senile. The little boy who couldn't undestand the true reasons for all the brokeness around him grew up only knowing how to break and be broken. He knew how to be tough, to be feared, and how to be the boss. He did not know how to care, to love, to support because he never was.
As I grew up in the house, I needed to know how all this happened. I poured over all my grandfather's books. Every underlined word was a key into his thoughts and understanding of his own circumstances. I read all the correspondence letters saved between my grandparents- they never fully divorced. The conclusion was this. Three generations of broken dreams and love from a war that never sprouted the real fruit of freedom but set a seed of destruction into J. Clyde that he couldn't shake and spread to his own family.
The result for America after World War I ? The first Rothschild designed globalization effort-- The League of Nations, A Great Depression for the little guys, Social Security cards, Federal Banking Systems, loss of the big homes with NO mortgages of his time and replaced by small homes with big mortagages, more corporate jobs, less independent businesses, more zoning rules, less freedom to walk down the street as you see fit.
The result for J. Clyde? His demons from the real-time actions of war attached themselves so personally that they lingered for three generations. I think about so many people reliving this cycle over and over as the wars get more and more unveiled in their true purpose. The words, "freedom", "honor", "and "hero" have been twisted into sugar coated words for becoming a personal sacrifice to the god of higher commerce. It's true meaning is inverted for control and marketed as loosely defined "freedoms" we expect to "gain" somehow. The only freedoms we keep getting are the freedoms to not think critically, look like Kim Khardashian or Justin Bieber, get the ok by government as to who can be in our beds and share tax issues with, have a government dictate a healthcare run by Monsanto, promote the idea of public scrutiny as truth, emotional manipulation of our senses to guide in more and more laws restricting our own daily chioces, and have to have a Rothschild Bank account to be able to access any of those rights in the first place.
I wish so much that J. Clyde could have truly been the personal hero he was becoming before the war. I wish my father could have had a father who could share his true self with him and love him as I am sure he wishes he could have done now. I wish my father wasn't so damaged from so much mental and emotional neglect as to think that it was the standard on how to raise his own children. Do you see the cycle? What is a hero? Is it someone who fights? Is it someone who fights for his country that has, in its very real history, sold him out in the end? Is it the man who is wise enough to simply fight to be his true, most honorable, personal self to those who really count on him to protect them?
What are we teaching our childen? Our definitions of words must get clearer. So, far, the results have been disastrous. He fought for his country and lost his mind, his family, and his joy. Coming home, he had to fight his country for his own right to live freely and survive independently. Had it not been for him saving the family home, we, today, would not have this safe place of peace, beauty, and safety from banks and lenders. We are free to not be slaves to any and every work without a conscience to survive. We are in the minority. So, what is your definition of freedom?
We are so far gone in understanding "freedom." We have a hard time even comprehending a freedom without bank involvement and their exploitation and limitations involving our dreams they call "help" in any part of our lives. We can't imagine living above and beyond the complicated legalised insurance liability lifestyle web into simply using common sense with a dash of dignity and care for others. We can't imagine growing up and having a chance to actually do what we love to do for the majority of our time. We can't imagine having time to actually live as we see fit. We only imagine how we are going to earn that next dollar that is the real prison. Soon, we won't be able to imagine the freedom to breathe "free air" or drink "free water." What are you fighting for? You've been marketed and lied to.
On my mother's side, my ancestor grandpap, General John Stark, was a true freedom fighter during the Revolutionary War. He believed in maintaining a strictly voluntary military to insure the cause was always of the collectively agreed moral right and always in defense only of the people, not interest of the powers. He knew the least federal government was the best. And even fought George Washington on many issues involving the forming of the Congressional Congress at that time, calling it a mirror to the control of England. The more you ask your government permission to "give" you a right that you were given simply by being born a natural child in this world under God, the more you will lose, cause you gave them the power to allow you to express it in the first place. Just be. Or they WILL take it away and then sell a lesser version of it back to you for a profit. Haven't you noticed by now?
Freedom is free. We just forgot its true meaning and ask the wrong people for something we were born with. My grandfather still haunts the house and reminds me of this in dreams and in his many books. I wish I had met you, Grandpa J. Clyde. You are beautiful. Thank you for fighting for my mother and my current freedoms we have with the home. It gives me the time to research and fight for my own true freedoms and share the truth with you fine people who take the time to read this.
Happy Memorial Day.