5 million???? How many hamburgers does that buy?

You’ve inherited $5 million, with instructions that you must give it all away — but you can choose any organizations you like to be the beneficiaries. Where does the money go?

I used to have a dream of buying and operating MY OWN  facility for teenage girls/young women up to 25 or so. It would be for young females who are starting to “go the wrong way” in their life but have not fallen yet, or, have had some bad experiences but are not really hardened. I’d like to provide them a long term residential facility that would be a safety net to keep them from falling into the psychiatry snare I got caught into. There, a community would be formed where people would have to respect each other or be kicked out. Young women would be able to still go to school and graduate then start training for a vocation or plan on going to college without having to leave the facility.

The facility would be on a campus with lots of old buildings like a college and no one would be locked up.  No locks, no keys except the ones that keep the baddies OUT.  Like living in an ordinary house. There would be frequent city outings and nature outings.  Men coming to the campus would be restricted.  Fathers, brothers, etc could visit on visiting days, but excessive contact with boyfriends would be prohibited.

This dream is outdated however.  I first thought of it in like the 1980s before I myself was targetted and now I know it would be impossible to keep people from contacting each other since there is email and text on cell phones which could be smuggled in.  Girls would probably not get much from the program:  they would only look forward to getting away to text their boyfriends.

I dreamt of a facility where psych drugs would be prohibited but EVERYONE is on them now and most of the residents would undergo withdrawal or go into rages/meltdowns without the drugs now.  It used to be more rare to be on psych drugs.  I think I would give residents an OPTION to go off psych drugs and try nutrition/exercise/spirituality to stay off drugs.

Programs would include art therapy, sports, alternative medicine, regular school day, college prep, nature trips, camping trips, fashion and beauty consultants and even weight loss programs.  Parents, relatives and friends could visit but I don’t know how I could keep them from smuggling street drugs in, etc.  I was given a COMPLETE check when my parents visited me @ juvenile hall right before the dreaded hospitalization.  If you’ve ever had one, you know what I mean, and I would not want anyone to go through the indignity of that or the supervised showers or not being able to change clothes but twice a week.  Even at the HOSPITAL we took showers in private.

With 5 mil I suspect my imaginary program would start small.  Probably one building or a small farm with outbuildings.  I might teach agriculture or at least gardening or get someone who knew something about it to help me.  :).

Someone else might want to start a program for boys like mine.

Another problem is staff.  Who can you trust.  In an ideal situation I would have hired relatives as staff.

Stupid immature idealistic dream.

Sigh.

The third time….

Hmmm. well, when I was a young dieter, I’d weigh 3 times each morning one right after another and took the “lowest” score to be my weight for the day…NO not that…

Maybe I could make you endure a story of a drive thru and how it took the cashier three times to get it right…no.

The three storms got together.

“I tried and had a good run,” said Walda, “but I just couldn’t bring it to pass. “Xerxes here, hardly made a dent but did a LITTLE MORE DAMAGE, It’s up to you,” said Walda bringing her blue tongue over her purple lips.

“What if I can’t do it?’ I asked.

“Then it’s probably over and we’ll have to give up until next year,” growled Walda.

“OK I will give it my best shot.  I am better organized and moister and maybe even colder than you,” I said.

“Never colder “she said in an ominous whisper.

“Here goes,” I shreiked as I spun my cold vast trajectory towards the Rockies and Midwest.

“This will be the final chance any of us has to completely ruin the Spring foliage,” wheezed old Mr. Xerxes, “I hope he can do it.

“No tulips, no daffodils, no lilacs, no apple blossoms, and a VERY ugly summer if they get one at all, HAHAHAHAH!” screamed Walda

The End