In 1860, after 21 years of marriage and six children, Elizabeth Packard was locked in an Illinois asylum.

Not for violence. Not for instability. But for disagreeing with her husband’s beliefs. Under the law, a man needed no proof, no trial, not even his wife’s consent to declare her insane.

Inside the asylum, Elizabeth uncovered a cruel truth: many women around her were not “mad” at all. They were wives who resisted, daughters who defied, women who spoke too boldly.

Where others broke, Elizabeth sharpened her pen. She wrote. She observed. She waited.

After three years, she finally stood in court — and defended her right to think for herself. She won her freedom. But she didn’t stop there.

In books, speeches, and campaigns to lawmakers, she exposed the abuses of asylums and fought to reform laws that gave men unchecked power over women.

Elizabeth Packard nearly lost her life as she knew it. But her defiance changed the law — securing protections for generations of women to come.

Credit goes to the respective owner.

 Mugshot of Bertha Boronda, the woman who was arrested for cutting off her husband's pen*s with a razor in 1907.

I came across this woman's cool obit again, yesterday.

 

I like to think this might have been the wonderful place "Holly Blair" might have lived with all her marvelous pets.

 

I admit, I tried this. Surprisingly, it was pretty good and just a tiny bit reminiscent of a quiche, which I do like very much.

 

This just speaks for itself, no explanation, no apology. It is what it is.

 

Found in an old abandoned house, they were all just sitting, waiting. . . 

 

I've walked a road much like this in the moonlight when I visited my grandparents who lived in the country. It was silent, and the moon was glowing with an eerie but calming light. The town cemetery was within sight and silent, yet a little unsettling. I knew people who resided there. I often wondered if I too, would one day join them in my own endless sleep.

Autumn Along Meadow Run

 

Privacy is power. It is then that treasured memories, wishful thinking, and thoughts I do not wish to share are examined, loved, or mourned, and allowed to grow or cease to be. 

 

One of my favorite things, walking in the rain.

 

 

 

 

 

When I first heard this, I knew that it was either the truth or very close to it.

Big News, This Changes Everything!

A well known individual (who wishes to stay anonymous) has stepped up with an incredible offer:

If we can get the GoFundMe to $600,000, they’ll personally contribute $400,000 to help save the Conjuring House.

And as promised, I’m matching donations as well.

That means if we hit $600K, this community will have raised well above the $1.3 million, giving us our best chance yet to preserve this historic property for generations to come.

We’ve already proven what we can do together, now it’s time to finish it.

Every dollar and every share matters right now.

Let’s make history — together.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/the-conjuring-house

Transparency Note: The additional $400,000 contribution is a private pledge, not affiliated with GoFundMe, and will be made directly if the campaign reaches $600,000.

If the house isn’t saved, all donations will be refunded.

#SaveTheConjuringHouse #TogetherWeCan #ParanormalHistory

 

They called her “the most beautiful woman to ever d-e.” On May 1st, 1947, Evelyn McHale stepped off the Empire State Building and landed on a parked limousine, without a single drop of blood or a broken bone in sight.

Her legs were delicately crossed. Her gloved hands clutched her pearls. Her expression? Peaceful. Serene. Almost like she was asleep. A young photography student just happened to be nearby. He snapped a photo before police arrived, and captured what would become one of the most haunting images of the 20th century.

Time Magazine published it. Andy Warhol reimagined it. And decades later, people are still captivated by the chilling perfection of that moment. No horror. No chaos. Just a quiet, impossible stillness… frozen in time. They never saw it coming. But the world would never forget it.

 

 

 

How did Ritchie Valens change music history before his 18th birthday?

Ritchie Valens was just a teenager when he broke barriers as one of the first Mexican-American rock stars. Born Richard Valenzuela in Los Angeles, he grew up listening to mariachi and flamenco alongside early rock and roll. By age 16, he was playing gigs and writing songs that blended cultural roots with the high-energy sounds of 1950s youth.

His breakout came in 1958 with the single “Come On, Let’s Go,” followed quickly by “Donna,” a sweet ballad written for his high school girlfriend. But it was “La Bamba,” a reimagining of a traditional Mexican folk song, that changed the game — blending Latin rhythm and rock spirit in a way no one had done before.

Valens' music was fresh, joyful, and boundary-pushing, but his career was heartbreakingly brief. In February 1959, just eight months after releasing his first single, Ritchie died in a plane crash alongside Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper — an event later dubbed “The Day the Music Died.”

Though his life was short, Ritchie Valens became a symbol of cultural pride and a pioneer of Chicano rock. He paved the way for countless Latin artists in mainstream music and is often cited as a true original who blended identity and innovation.

Ritchie may have only recorded a handful of songs, but each one carried a spark that still burns decades later. He proved that even a teenager could make history — and change the sound of America. #fblifesty