Death Of An Altar Boy


This book was a difficult read. Firstly, because I knew the person accused by many outside of the realm of the legal system, although he was never formally charged.

Secondly, because the design of the presentation wasn’t conducive to easy reading, presenting more like a complicated compilation of court documents, some clearly not accurate, but then court testimony rarely is.

Sometimes too much detail alters the interpretation making it difficult with so many names and places and dates to form a picture or movie in one’s own mind about what happened or didn’t. One thing for sure – one boy died.

Confusion reigned where it didn’t have to. For that, the writer bears some responsibility.

I can still see in my minds eye him standing beneath a large sprawling tree or was it a tall skinny tree in the gray of the sky that somehow reached down to the earth and made him a brighter stronger gray than his background. He was a child as was I.

As I glanced out the window while sitting waiting to be fitted is when I saw him, almost as if he willed it, he stood so motionless.

For new shoes inside the garage of his father Mr. Lavigne – set up like a real shoe store, organized and clean and professional. Me thinking of starting school again soon and Mom wanting new shoes for us is what we were doing.

With Dad we were. Mom stayed home with many other chores to do to get ready for that first day – like she did every year.

I felt that we shouldn’t have to buy shoes that way. But nobody complained. He did have a solid collection and the ones I chose fit. Nothing fancy, but back then school shoes weren’t. And as I said, it was all professional looking and he professional acting.

Yes my father found a way to buy shoes on-time. That was before the day of credit cards. He had three kids all needing new shoes. So there we were.

The day was overcast and the stillness with which this boy stood looking in motionless with arms straight to his sides spoke to me. I saw him more than once and each time saw someone, something different, although he didn’t move beyond the fact that he was alive, because he was obviously standing.

Later, after, a statue came to mind.

Quiet I thought, minus mind words. I hadn’t yet learned how to talk to myself in my mind. My world was filled with impressions. Feelings rather than thoughts. Well, thoughts minus the words that defined them.

Gentle and confused. He seemed confused as to what to do next, because he didn’t move. He was frozen in place. Conflicted I think now. His father probably told him to stay away while he was fitting people for shoes. I don’t know. Kids weren’t a part of everything back then, like they are today.

Many years later even before Mr. Lavigne’s son became a priest and entered our parish, I still to those days have memories of young boys my age sitting with heads lowered looking ashamed and wanting of something they didn’t have. Never looking up but somehow needing somebody to recognize them.

An overwhelming sadness that presented with no cure.

In the neighborhood and later downtown as so many of us gravitated toward to feed our worldly curiosities and thirst for freedom and for many others to be among familiar strangers to suppress it.

I recognized you and forever remembered you, even now at seventy one years old I remember you. All of you.

My father and mother would never allow for our absence from any moment in their lives. We were connected – don’t know how or why just knew we were. Even when apart, there was a string of something not visible but there.

I thought everybody was that way while simultaneously knowing they weren’t.

Other parents allow for long absences from their children absent explanations, not thinking or calculating actual consequences.

Still, I’m not here to talk about your responsibilities or consequences.

I saw one lanky kid, standing tall beneath a broad or skinny tree alone confident watching his father do something good by providing shoes for kids whose parents couldn’t afford payment now.

He was a kid himself. I felt his loneliness. I respected that he came out to declare himself visible.

Tom and Peg Davies did always pay as arranged. That’s what Mr. Lavigne could always count on. People who bought their kids shoes on-time knew the responsibility.

And my mother and father were grateful.

My father and mother dead now and me probably soon, I need at least some explanation regarding this person, who so entered and disrupted at least in thought our lives, who needed so much attention that the world simply couldn’t give by nature of the world.

You took too much Richard Lavigne. You simply took too much.

And for that you are guilty.

My name is Sharon Lee Davies-Tight daughter to Tom and Peg Davies, East Springfield, Massachusetts. Sister to Carole, Jim, Rick.

Dick Lavigne is not however responsible for the death of Daniel Croteau. The Mafiosa in the South End of Springfield Massachusetts is responsible for the death of an altar boy via the order of the Vatican.

That’s my view and I’ve been a long time on it.

I call him Danny, although I didn’t know him or his family. I knew others by their demeanors. In my mind looking back I call them all Danny.

Richard Lavigne, given your intellectual and artistic capacity you should have solved what needs to be solved. I know you could have. Scientific journals are begging for what you know. I understand that societies are not equipped to handle that, only because it’s so prevalent and discriminatory toward children.

We say, as one world, to protect the children, but when an adult sees themselves as that child they covet, while performing in every other realm of society in sophisticated ways, the world somehow faults the characteristics of the child rather than the characteristics of the adult for what happens to that child.

You and you alone irrespective of your parents and your experiences chose not to contribute to that explanation.

That’s on you.

If Richard Lavigne had murdered Daniel Croteau then Richard Lavigne would have been dead by assassins a long time ago.

That’s just my view.

Adult sexual attraction to children is common, and just like any other sexual preference or orientation it needs to be understood.

I saw an advertisement in a bar on T. V. a couple days ago that showed a large baby’s face up close with adult female sexually suggestive eyes, that was disgusting to me.

I don’t remember what they were selling, but there’s a lot of perversity in our society that goes unnoticed.

As it turned out sexual manipulation of children at St. Mary’s parish was rampant, yet it went unnoticed. Karl Huller was another of those priests at our parish who preyed upon children, yet was often praised for the work he did for young wayward boys. He later became diocesan superintendent of schools.

We often think it’s the quiet ones who become targets, but it appears in many instances to be those considered trouble makers. The street-wise ones aren’t likely to run home to tell family members about their encounters. They at some point become as manipulative as their predators.

Boundaries are at the root of all inappropriate sexual behavior.

Don Lemon an openly gay opinion news host said as much when he forced another man’s hand down his trousers and made him smell his fingers asking if they smelled better than a woman’s genitals.

The onus was put on the bartender, whom Don Lemon thought wanted it.

Gays often are excused for inappropriate sexual contact because they’re gay. Even if the bartender was also gay, the question of impropriety still remains unaddressed, again, because Don Lemon was GAY. Add to that the news people who took Don Lemon’s side claiming him to have been sexually manipulated as a child, and the court of public opinion as Lemon often referred to was in his favor.

There cannot be an excuse given, that holds any weight, by people with a conflict of interest claiming their client innocent after that client claimed he thought the guy he did it to was okay with it.

Should society excuse such behavior?

No. I don’t watch Don Lemon anymore. I see a sexual predator every time I see his face.

The same face I see when I look at Richard Lavigne in my minds eye – not the face of the child standing beneath that tree, but the face of denial of responsibility that he became.

What is it with the French that they accept and foster and even groom their sexual attraction to human children and other animals?

‘Such is life’ is not explanation enough. Not enough for the young girl looking out the window at a motionless boy who became a notorious child sexual manipulator, who entered her space, who sat at her father’s table with her mother presenting to them his dream version of himself and who took her youngest brother fishing using popcorn as bait for the sole purpose of presenting himself amicable and trustworthy, because of her mother’s stature in the church, while taking liberties not his to take from those whom he considered not worthy of anybody else’s notice.

The French preying on the French – in this instance. But of course it didn’t stop there.

One must wonder why there are not universal laws that prohibit the sexual manipulation of children.

There is a difference between being sexually attracted to children and being a predator. If we are to accept differences in sexual orientation, then we must draw the line where sexual manipulation is concerned.

Consenting adults not pressured to consent is the new rule.

The problem with therapy for sex offenders no matter the orientation is that it seeks to change the orientation rather than the offenders perception of sexual boundaries.

Do all alternative sexual orientations deserve to be satisfied?


If someone cannot control urges, sexual or otherwise, they need to be separated from society in an environment that won’t provide them opportunities to offend.

Prisons globally have become havens for rapists. Commit a crime, go to jail, get raped every night or go to jail where you can have your pick of easy prey every night.

Bottom line: The predator preys on the most vulnerable and/or the most visible.


Comedian Terrance Williams on Aunt Jemima

Finally something to laugh about. I liked the old Aunt Jemima. But the younger slimmer version too. Of course it’s fake maple syrup, but still plenty tasty.

My father dressed me up like the fat Aunt Jemima – cork face and all – for Halloween one year when I was a kid – we couldn’t afford store bought costumes.

I loved it and everybody loved it. It’s not wrong to dress up like other people. It brings people together.

Then years later the activist blacks made something evil out of it and started a witch hunt ruining white lives who in the past corked their faces for Halloween. It angered them that white people enjoyed dressing up and making up like black people. But the real reason was they found an opportunity to exploit their skin for financial and political gain – just like the Jews do every time you mention them.

It looks like Black lives found a new theatre in which to exploit Aunt Jemima for political and financial gain. Black lives want to go into the history of white people and destroy their happy childhood memories – the few they actually had. That’s terrorism in play. Black lives are using Mossad and IS tactics.

Guess we’ll wait and see if sales soar or plummet as a result.

Whatever happens, this guy got me really laughing. Thank you Terrence K. Williams.


OUTLANDER – a series

A Visit To My History Through A Film


A city on Scotland’s northeast coast, where the River Ness meets the Moray Firth. It’s the largest city and the cultural capital of the Scottish Highlands. Its Old Town features 19th-century Inverness Cathedral, the mostly 18th-century Old High Church and an indoor Victorian Market selling food, clothing and crafts. The contemporary Inverness Museum and Art Gallery traces local and Highland history.


Irishman William Bennet came to Inverness Township in 1819, but the first colony dates to 1829 with the arrival of 12 families from the Isle of Arran, Scotland. Their descendants built two churches in the village: St. Andrew’s Presbyterian (1862) and the old Methodist Church (1862), now a bronze foundry.

My Grandfather Ernest Romanzo Davidson was born in Inverness Township, Megantic County, Quebec, Canada (a Scottish settlement) 14 November 1881 and died 4 September 1933 in Wells River, Vermont.

In the early 90s I drove to Montreal for a Dystonia Symposium for doctors, in place of the doctor who was invited and couldn’t attend. Although I wasn’t a doctor I had sufficient knowledge on the topic that he thought it would be beneficial, plus I have dystonia.

The evening before it started, I drove out to Inverness, about a two and a half hour drive. One very long paved, country road, no traffic, not a single car but mine.

When I reached Inverness and saw a general store, I got out and looked back to where I had started – it was flat land – and saw all the city lights of Montreal light up the sky in the distance, which made me decide to on head back before it got too dark. There were no street lights as I recall.

When I called my mother in Massachusetts and told her I went to Inverness, she asked if it was a town or a city. Frankly, “I don’t know”, I told her. All I knew was that I was in Inverness – what lied beyond that general store was a mystery. I didn’t see any signs of a town or city from that vantage point, only a store.

Well, this morning, about twenty-five years later, I thought to look up Inverness, Scotland and Inverness, Quebec. I didn’t know that Inverness, Scotland was the capital city of the Scottish Highlands. Upon looking up Inverness, Quebec, and seeing the images, it was a town for sure. It looked like there had been no population surge or building boom in that tiny region of Quebec. Not even a hotel – upon checking. Lots around them though at a distance.

One of the first images that stuck out to me was that General Store. Wow. Right there looking as it did back then, probably some changes in sign content. It was like I was there again.

I’ll never forget that drive along that long road, talking in my mind to Uncle Ernie I used to call him. My mother didn’t like that title. “No one ever called him Ernie, and he was your grandfather not your uncle, but me being playful stuck with the Uncle Ernie.

Frankly, I don’t think Grandpa Ernest minded – at least I was talking to him directly, how many others do that? They usually go through God in prayer.

Anyway I never know much about any of my roots from any of the countries linked to me by ancestry – my mother and father didn’t talk that way. There were always more pressing issues in life than obsessing over where your people came from. Others make careers out it, for the purpose of exploitation, or just because they have separatists natures and cling to their ethnicity or race or religion for comfort.

I didn’t find out that I was Scottish till I was in high school and my parents had the neighbors over for dinner, who were Polish, and one of them remarked, “I wasn’t expecting to be served pierogi in a Scottish household”.

Later that night after everyone went to bed and my father and I remained at the table, I said, “I didn’t know I was Scottish”. He quickly retorted rather gruffly, “You’re not, you’re Lithuanian and don’t ever forget it”.

I was a quiet, not-looking-for-trouble, rather everybody get along, have fun and don’t fight so much, kind of kid, rather to please than disrupt, still independent though and firm in my beliefs, although I kept them mostly to myself.

People can pretty much discern you by your actions; they don’t need to hear you pontificate or hypothesize, or tell your story or opinions that change like the wind.

Still, I do all that now, and love doing it, but never with malice, I truly do respect people for being people and the struggles they’re confronted with just by the fact that they’re living, and not so much for what they do, but again I usually do understand the ‘WHY’, and when I don’t, the ‘WHY’ is where I look first to bring out the truth – whatever that means – even I’m not sure. It’s not like I developed a standardized process for everything I think or do or figure out.

Actually, since early childhood till the present day my primary question in life is why people do what they do.

So yeah, looking back and later watching the entire Lithuanian surge for independence and hearing them sing while holding lighted candles, not so much in protest but rather to show to the world what they wanted and deserved in a peaceful, non-violent way impressed me. In fact they, more than the Africans, adopted Martin Luther King’s non-violent process for social change.

Seeing them fail only to rise again triumphant made me identify with them more closely than my other ethnicities, and even though I didn’t speak much ‘way back when’, my father saw those qualities in me from early on.

It wasn’t until I saw the movie Brave Heart or portions of it that my eyes opened and then wanted to shut, being too young and peaceful leaning to understand the type of brutality people endure and impose on each other for their freedom rights. It seems everybody wants to Lord over everybody else and when others oppose it, violence occurs to protect it. I see it all over the world. Minorities trying to rise to dominate the majority, and often times winning, but at a tremendous cost.

This was a film made about Scotland. I’m seventy years old and just started watching it again on NETFLIX only to be cut off halfway through. Guess I’ll have to wait a bit more till they fix it and maybe scold the person who broke it – in my mind at least.

But I found another one – a series with three seasons so far and I only have three episodes to go and when it’s done I will miss it. It’s called OUTLANDER, another movie about Scotland, more specifically, the Scottish Highlands and done so well and creatively that I had to start pacing myself, so it would last longer.

I don’t usually recommend movies, because Steve and I watch so many of them, but this one excels in all the right ways. One small criticism – the sex scenes are wa-a-y too long. Other than that, I look forward to a season four!


Visiting the past for the purpose of changing the future.

What a trip that was!




“If we don’t need the gory details to tell a story about gore, then maybe we don’t need to accept war as inevitable.” ~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight

“LEAVING WITHOUT A TRACE” A war story-movie about the sacrifices a family makes in real time on the ground, when one is called or decides to serve their country. Based on a novel by Mindy Mejia, the film explores such sacrifice and how it impacts initially and alters forever the family dynamic.

A slow-mover that mesmerizes the viewer, forcing one to sit still the mind as it opens wide the harsh reality of physical and psychological isolation.

Mindy Mejia uses nuance to tell a story of how war leaves an indelible influence on the making of each veteran and how through each person’s uniqueness, that indelible influence unfolds differently.

Trying to heal what can’t be told, the family stumbles, succumbs and rises to a different understatement of who they are, and how to survive the changes that war brought upon them.

Rather than being left with images, facts, and figures from the theatre of the aftermath of war, the viewer takes with them a part of the collective soul of all veterans – the only part common to all – that they will ever allow you to see. Everything else is uniquely private to each individual veteran-family.

Happy Veteran’s Day to all my Veteran-family members!

I am a family-veteran. I became one when I was born into a family who served and became one again each time another family member put on that uniform.

I know what isolation looks and feels like. Over time that place brought me comfort knowing I was surviving something somebody else experienced, which I had no control over.

I believe war is NOT inevitable. Absent war and absent the intentional infliction of harm is a world I aspire to help engineer. Using my own free will and self-control opens the doors that need opening and closes those that need closing.

This is a story about accepting where we are now and working from there to achieve tomorrow.

I know that story.

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight



This post has been banned by Facebook for hate speech


Banned Post:

Laws People Think Are Theirs’ To Break Are Major Ones

Blacks and Hispanics force white people to fight their battles for them. They do it with their dogs and gamecocks too – force them to fight, for the purpose of monetary gain. It’s always about the money.

Blacks and Browns like to watch people and other animals tear each other apart in an arena they control. There is no exit plan for the fighters. They’re put into the ring to fight or die. They know they’re going to die, if not this fight the next one.

Fifty states outlaw the brutal blood sport. But so do they outlaw slavery and trafficking of children for sex.

Blacks and Browns treat white people like their dogs and gamecocks.

Do you know how many white people died or sacrificed everything but their lives to help black Africans gain their freedom from slavery…

View original post 1,229 more words


Discover Your Clifton Strengths by Tom Rath


I’m glad I took this test and recommend it for everybody, whether your job searching or not. In fact, a good place to start taking it is in high school. Students can take it online and get immediate results for their use only. Schools should start politicking for it. What’s good and beneficial for the students of today is that there is nothing negative about it. No downside. Nobody’s score is any better than anybody else’s.


Astrophysics for people in a hurry by Neil Degrasse Tyson – a book review

Never before have I written a review on a book where I didn’t understand ninety-nine percent of the material in it.

“Astrophysics is a very broad subject; it requires knowledge of fields such as electromagnetic theory, mechanics, statistical mechanics, thermodynamics quantum mechanics, relativity, nuclear physics and particle physics. The study of astrophysics includes measuring properties such as chemical composition, density, mass, luminosity and temperature of stellar objects and using them to model and predict how the stellar bodies would behave.” source:

Although I took a course in astronomy while in college to fulfill my science requirement, it didn’t leave much of an impact and contained nothing about astrophysics or any of the areas of study mentioned in the previous paragraph.

In fact, I never read any book from cover to cover that I didn’t understand. What would be the point? Even now after reading it, I don’t know why I want to read it again. But I do and I probably will. To do this review I’m going to go back and reread all the pages I checked to return to – pages with nuggets of interesting facts about the universe that we not only live in, but that lives within us.

That’s the first nugget I discovered when Steve brought home the book and I fanned to a page towards the end where it said,

(1). “We do not simply live in the universe. The universe lives within us”.

I was immediately hooked, since that’s something I believed all along, that we were not independent of the universe, and not simply part of it, as a working component, but it was in us and we in it.

As I read this book I didn’t understand, I did so in the same way I read any other book – now and then when I realized my mind drifting out of the zone for a few paragraphs, I returned to reread them, making sure I fully attended to each word before moving on, even though I wasn’t consciously connecting any dots, because the dots didn’t mean anything. It was like reading a foreign language. I kept up with it though, reading a couple chapters each night before going to sleep.

From this position of not knowing, I pass on to you what I thought interesting and fun facts about where we live and what lives within us, that happen to be one and the same: the universe.



Although I recommend buying the book, I read one on loan from the library. If I were younger, I’d want a copy of my own. My library is long gone now, mostly sold when we needed money for something essential.

So why the interest? Why not? It’s all around us; it’s in us; we’re in it; why not be curious about what we don’t know?

Why continue to read something I clearly didn’t understand? Maybe at some level of our intelligence or some other process yet to be recognized or named by science, we are programmed to understand some rudimentary laws of physics absent the terminology used to describe and define them.

Maybe we’re designed to recognize and understand certain concepts regarding anything even though we don’t know the formulas, equations or methods used to prove them. I believe that happened with me.