Letters to
Maine:
How do I start? Just start, I guess.
First of all; I was most likely born in a
town called Bangor Maine. If you live there or near Bangor Maine you might know
where it is.
I’m writing in Word. Usually I write in blog.
But it messes up so much that you have to watch the page. While I’m in Word you
don’t have to worry about it that much.
I pay a fee to use it. Each month it is
taken out of my SSI check. Really, that’s not a joke!
The lasers have my back hurting so much I
can’t hardly set here and write. I put on a back pack with books and stuff in
it to help keep the lasers from hurting so much. It’s pretty much laser alley
here.
Nothing can stop them completely.
Government and rich people kind of terrorism. If poor people shot someone in
the government with a laser the C.I.A. would be crawling around like flies.
There was a lot of reasons people wanted me
dead to begin with. Being born in Bangor Maine was one I guess.
How I found out I was born in Bangor Maine
is a story in itself. If you are from Bangor Maine or have relatives there, you
may have known about the murders in 1959-60. Probably 1960. If I was born in
1959 then I would guess that my parents were murdered in 1960.
I don’t know much about my real parents. I
know that they lived in a house by a lighthouse. The lighthouse was just down
the road from the place. It was a small wood framed house, painted white. The
garage was detached and set at the end of the driveway. The driveway was a
white chat driveway. A sidewalk went down the side of it about half way to the
road. By the road, that was a blacktop, two lane, there were tall straight
trees in a line. There was about twenty planted side by side. All about the
same height.
The neighbors down the road as you were
headed towards town had some type of oriental stuff in their yard. On down the
road there was a large house that sat on the other side of the road.
As you pulled up to the house coming in from
the road, the house set on the left. The entrance everyone used was on the side
facing the blacktop. The patio was on that side of the house. There was a large
pine tree just past the patio. You could see the top of the lighthouse from the
patio. There was an entrance on the side by the driveway, but mostly people
used the patio entrance. There was a door with a metal work letter on it. I
can’t remember what letter it was.
As you walked through the patio side door
you entered the den. To the right was a dining room and kitchen I suppose. To
the left was a door. Probably went to a bedroom. Straight through the den was a
hallway that went to the bathroom.
There was a dresser setting in the hallway
with a mirror on it. It set in a cutaway. It was on the right. A man that was
dressed like a woman held me there. One of the killers I suspect.
He apparently left me in a stroller on the
patio by the sidewalk to freeze to death. That night a warm stream of air came
from somewhere, probably the Gulf of Mexico and that kept me alive until some
people found me.
After the miracle on the patio I was taken
to the orphanage. They knew who I was. But I never did.
The reason I say that is because lawyers
came to talk to me when I was nine years old. They turned over a large parcel
of land in Connecticut and some companies. There was other properties. Houses
and offices. Shopping malls. Most of it had to do with CBS. That’s all I
remember.
I never had much to do with any of it. After
I was 11 I forgot about it and no one ever said anything more to me about it.
Apparently, my parents had inherited the properties and they were dead so I was
next to receive the inheritance. If their father knew me he never contacted me.
I never knew who he was and I never knew my parents.
That might give some people there a clue
as to who I would be. I think Smith had to do with CBS. As in General Electric.
If any of the other people I was related to
knew who and where I was, they didn’t care to contact me. I figured some got
money out of the deal. What happened to all the properties is anybody’s guess.
I know that all of the properties weren’t taken or sold. Some of the properties
were put in trust but I never saw those people either.
It was funny that after all those years the
men in California that had to do with Capitol Records found me and told me I
owned the company. I was there for a short time in Los Angeles. I was ill. I
walked away and forgot the whole thing. Never went back. The company was eventually
sold to Sony Corporation.
Like I said I wanted to know who I was. I
never knew. How many murders could have happened in the Bangor Maine area
around 1960? And people who lived by a lighthouse?
Was all that money keeping me from finding out
things that the criminals didn’t want me to know? It seemed that way.
I always thought that before I got old I
would go to Maine and try to find out my real identity.
This is the journal I will keep:
Don Russell Robbins
My birth certificate said I was born in Oklahoma on August ------- My parents were ---------They
resided in Mingo Oklahoma at the time. He worked for machine shops in the area.
They are both dead.
You would think it would be easy enough to
find out who my real parents were but it wasn’t.
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