A Stolen Life – Jaycee Dugard’s Memoir

If you’re looking to read a great story, continue reading.

Screen Shot 2013-05-19 at 12.50.25 PM

I just finished the life story of Jaycee Lee Dugard – her memoir titled A Stolen Life. I checked the book out from the library on Thursday and finished it last night. It was difficult to put down. There were also many difficult and emotionally disturbing parts to read without tearing up.

Jaycee was kidnapped in 1991 when she was only 11 years old. Her kidnapper was a convicted rapist whose wife helped him with the kidnapping. (I won’t even mention their names in this because they don’t deserve to be on my blog.) Jaycee was basically enslaved for the next 18 years, enduring rape and sexual abuse, mental and emotional abuse, and manipulation. Unfortunately, the legal system failed her, as there were several instances in which she could have been rescued. In the book, Jaycee recounts everything she remembered about the day of her kidnapping and what she remembered in between. She was rescued in 2009, along with the two girls she’d given birth to during her captivity. But Jaycee’s story wasn’t over even after her rescue. She was subjected to media scrutiny and paparazzi harassment. Imagine spending 18 years of your life as a prisoner and then having to deal with those heartless idiots!

I was surprised that Jaycee seemed as intelligent as she was, especially since her education stopped at fifth grade. She seems to have a heart of gold and still has the innocence of that 11 year old girl that was kidnapped years ago. Surprisingly, Jaycee is incredibly forgiving of what was done to her, which is something that all of us could learn to do.

Punk Ass – A poem for anyone who has ever taught high school thugs

I dedicate this as a “rap” poem to any United States public high school teacher that is fed up with the system and dealing with behavior issues. I titled this Punk Ass for obvious reasons. This is my “back to ya” response about what too many teachers deal with on a daily basis.



Punk Ass

Who do ya think you’re talkin’ to?

So help me, God, if ya only knew

The things that I wanna do to you

If I’d let out what I withdrew

And said the things back to you, too.

Don’t like me? Well, whoop-de-do!

Bet I could make ya go “boo-hoo”

Like a little baby with a boo boo

Or teary eyes from the shampoo

Or a dirty diaper with some pooh-pooh

What is all of this hullabaloo?

Can’t even get along at the family barbecue

Your brotha’s involved in some voodoo

Your papa – he’s gone a little cuckoo

Your mama wears a big muumuu

And your sista’s hair is like a gnu in a zoo

Your friends can’t even read McD’s drive through

Orderin’ pizza from the menu

Everything I say you misconstrue

With your greasy hair and your fake tattoo

What is it that you’re tryin’ to pursue?

You can’t even add two plus two

It’s a catch 22 with your book review

Ain’t gonna make it in Who’s Who

You have no clue about your miscue

Better go back and renew

Your twisted little world point of view

I think an apology is overdue

But you’re ignorant with your small IQ

Anyway, it probably would be untrue –

Everything is coming from you

Ain’t it past your 8 p.m. curfew?

Better leave now or you’ll be residue

I oughtta leave your punk ass black and blue

And make ya dance in around in a tutu

At your punk ass people rendezvous,

Kick you into Timbuktu

With your mama’s hooker-high-heeled shoe

Or maybe I should just subdue

Your big ol’ mouth with some kung fu

And teach you a lesson – a thing or two

That I’m not gonna take your cock-a-doodle-doo

But I won’t do that – I feel sorry for you.

Copyright 2013 Susanna Hartigan