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----- Original Message -----
From: xxxxx
To: The Etal Group
Sent: Sunday, August 16, 2009 3:59 PM
Subject: Email to Etal: Email to Probate Court; Letter to Etal Group re: auction, condo, noxious inhalant, will contest
Wednesday night I watched a one-hour film by Egoyan, "Inspired by Bach" with YoYo Ma. It was like Egoyan's feature length movies, filled with mostly silly and unlikable people who probably deserve their fates. The music was lovely - baroque is my favorite. Anyway, the most sympathetic person in the film was a dying old man who instructed his realtor to sell his house only to someone who would keep all his treasures and collections in place and never remove them.
Rxxx Xxxxxxx, my mother's friend (she's the same age as my deceased younger brother) and co-executor of the estate seems to have taken umbrage at my Email to Etal and journal entry (including an email to probate court) of August 1st. My complaint about my mother's personal possessions was outrage that they had disappeared, not that I thought someone was stealing money from the estate. My mother's self-esteem derived from being a superb homemaker with a spotlessly clean house who surrounded herself with lovely, well cared-for possessions. The unseemly haste in disposing of her entire life is disgusting. I hope she was in a coma at the end and didn't know how little her treasures (and her life) were worth to others.
Besides the tattle-tale bank statement mentioned in the 8/15 email below to probate court, the co-executor sent me, for the March 7th auction of my mother's entire life, the auctioneer's description of the consignment, a photocopy of the check sent to my brother, and a copy of the end of the cash register tape showing the auction totals. As well, there were 124 xeroxs of tags or labels for the auction lots. The auction took place at Mike Xxxxxx's Auction House in Xxxxxxxxtown, West Virginia (I defy you to find that hamlet on a map). Those small town auctions are attended by some antique dealers, a few with specialties like toys or other items, but most sales are to ordinary people who want to use the item. The majority of items are auctioned in box loads.
For instance, two boxes of stemware (my mother had lovely glasses) sold together for a total of $5. Another box contained figurines (Royal Doulton?, Lladro?, Goebel?) and a toaster and sold for $10. Another lot of three boxes contained figurines, clocks, glasses, & basket and sold for $22.50. Another box of "statues" raised $20. Her silverplate tea set & tray cost $10, and a box of silverplate dishes and trays went for $2.00. A box of watches, pins, and jewellery sold for $27.50. My mother's beautiful, pristine Art Deco mahogany veneer bedroom set complete with a chifforobe went for $100 (This year I saw one like it in an antique magazine for a very high price). Her mink stole was sold for $10. Her console sewing machine and chair went for $20. A set of four carved rose back, saber leg chairs raised $110 (Wonderful chairs and that buyer is in for a happy surprize - they have needlepoint seats which my mother had covered over with white silk damask because the thread color was starting to fade). Her bone china cup and saucer collection (this was really important to her) was sold in a box for $5. There is no mention of my father's organ, the newest television, or the box of flatware for twelve. And where are the old Christmas ornaments?
What about my belongings which were at my mother's home? My beaded and embroidered wedding gown, detachable train, and veil were sold for $6. A wind-up walking doll which my aunt gave me when I was nine or ten fetched $70 (there must have been a toy dealer there). A box of film cans and records raised $7. Two embroidery samplers - one by me and the other Bi-centennial one by my mother - were sold for $3. The Southeby's catalogue of the Jackie Kennedy auction raised $5. A painting of the Cutty Sark I did in high school sold for $2. (There were other paintings by me - they must have been thrown into boxes. One was a very good oil portrait of a woman a painted in the 1970's.) The framed numbered Marge Teague print I bought for my mother raised $35.
And do you know what was the most expensive item auctioned that day? My little antique trunk which my uncle gave me. It was sold for $140. I wonder if it was still stuffed with letters I had received in my youth (they were in it in 2002 when I last saw the trunk).
The auctioneer took a 35% commission for handling the possessions of my mother's entire life, and then my brother was sent a check for $1,232.40. What a travesty. How disgusting. If it was a matter of money for my brother, then he should have put all the good stuff on consignment in the antique stores in my mother's town. The riverboats stop there, and the street fronting the river is lined with shops which sell to the tourists. I poked around in those stores every time I visited my parents. They would sell anything over fifty years old as antiques, and they love stuff like figurines, glasses, china, dishes, art, and any furniture which is interesting. But as I wrote you before, my brother is impatient and nasty. He probably wanted to just wind up her life as quickly and as easily as possible.
I received condo strata council minutes for an August 6th meeting from Axxxx Property Management. (My requests for copies of financial documents are still being ignored.) They have decided to repair and replace wooden patio fences on only the front of the building. They simply will not repair my patio because they intend to remove it to make my apartment less valuable. We have replaced our old cleaning lady with a young woman named Kismet - I guess she's cooler. Once again rollers of dust are entering under my apartment door, but that is not a function of the cleaner. The council states that pet food and water should not be kept on patios to deal with the "pest" problem. There are no raccoons and skunks here in the daytime, and I will take the water bowl in at night unless we have another heat wave. The animals manage without my help except when it is very hot.
I went out shopping and performing errands for several days this week without incident. However, the noxious inhalant in my apartment and the allergens being dumped on my patio are in incredible quantities. The RCMP emphasis seems now to be on making me sick. If they can get me in a hospital they will have me diagnosed with Alzheimer's or some other untreatabe and progressive illness so that police can permanently discredit me. I wonder if the RCMP is once again having me followed about by an ambulance in the hope that I will collapse as a result of the great onslaught of noxious inhalant. Friday I went to the bank after the post office, and when I finished with the teller, I stopped in the waiting area while I securely put away my money and my bank book. As soon as I sat down, a very anxious male bank manager type ran up to me yelling, "Ma'am, are you all right?". It was worse than bizarre.
This week I am going to write my submission to initiate a will contest. I will not wait to see what happens with my claim against the estate. Nor will I wait to see what happens to that bank account which belongs to me or to the certificate of deposit which probably belongs to me. I have no doubt that the U.S. security agency will insure (with the help of my brother and of the bank) that I am cheated out of anything connected to my mother's estate which is rightfully mine. I have only until September 5th to file a contest action, and I want it to contain all the pertinent information about the situation I endure because of local police, the RCMP, and a U.S. security agency, and how my brother used information obtained from those groups to alienate my mother from me.
Please save my journal. Wish me luck.
