By Ida Camburn more
14 May 2006
This is to wish all the Disconnected Mothers a Happy Day. As
I look back I can remember many very happy ones, I hope all of
you who will not get a greeting this year realize the whys of
the disconnect. I didn't get my "affidavit" showing the
notarized stamp (Let's make this sucker look official) til
later... It was inserted in a nicely bound book (blue cover)
titled "The un-truths of Ida Camburn." The first copy arrived at
my late friends Henrietta and Curt Crampton home in Redondo
Beach, Ca. My sons name was spelled Bob rather than Ronald. I
received the corrected copy signed on the anniversary of his
fathers death, June 20, 1977 and mailed to our home in
In the weeks following my neighbors received letters peppered
with lies and innuendos about me which they either destroyed or
passed them on to me. Those were to humiliate me into silence.
practice is done to cause a parent to break and thus keep quiet
about the evil practices of this
LRH cult. When I
was subpoenaed and deposed was for one reason — to
frighten me enough to keep quiet. I often wonder how many
parents they have broken and had them sit quietly rather than
speak out. I certainly don't blame them, I just couldn't give in
to that redheaded worthless scum.
So on this Mothers Day, I will make some phone calls wishing
others joy, I will be ever thankful to the wonderful group of
young friends that I see often and hear from daily.
I wish always the best for my son — five times a
week three hours a treatment on the dialysis chair is not an
easy life. He doesn't criticize his "church" for telling him
they could treat his cancer as he is the "True Believer" that
Eric Hoeffer wrote about many years ago. I am ever thankful for
the legitimate doctors who later saved his life with surgery.
Maybe someday he will open his eyes to the truth and then we
will make up for many days we have lost.
Til then, not to worry, my life is a joy to live and I look
forward to each new day.
Hope is a thing with Feathers by Emily Dickinson
"Hope" is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -