Confessions of a Legacy Anti-Vaxxer

a story of fear

Me and the Missus at the beginning of the journey.

Trigger warning: I don’t care if I lose subscribers over this post.

In the photo above you will find my wife Bonnie and me with my son, Brendan, who was two and a half at the time. Bonnie was pregnant with our son, Dylan. Dylan was born in the house we were renting and this is the garden at that house. We buried Dylan’s placenta and that of his brother, Tommy, who was born two years later, at the base of the Rose of Sharon to the left of the photo. As you can tell, we were kind of hippies. The photo was taken on Father’s Day, 1992, right at the beginning of my career as a Waldorf teacher and my other career as a garden designer and landscaper. We were married in this garden, beneath the Rose of Sharon.

(I know I’ve shared it before, but here’s a song Bonnie wrote—borrowing a few lyrics from a poem I wrote—about the birth of Tommy in that house):

Bonnie and I were not by any stretch of the imagination political in those days. Yes, we were anti-war, suspicious of government and corporations, dedicated to organic farming, home births, natural medicine, alternative education, a kind of Celtic spirituality, and protecting the innocence of childhood—all of which were pretty standard in our social milieu. We never thought about it in political terms at the time, but people would have probably thought we were hippies belonging to the left. But, like I said, we never thought about it and we definitely never talked about it. Today, though, people who held our values then—which we still maintain—would probably be considered as belonging to the right. Whatever that is. As I often tell people, we didn’t change: the world did.

When Brendan was born in 1989, his mother and I decided not to vaccinate him. Many of our peers didn’t vaccinate their children—and those kids seemed happy and healthy. So we elected not to. I didn’t think this was a big deal, just a matter of personal choice. Boy, was I wrong! When my sister found out we weren’t vaccinating she temporarily lost her mind. I will never forget her phone call—she was crying and essentially accusing me of child endangerment. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. My sister and I have always been very close and still are, so this hurt a bit. But she didn’t sway me. We eventually got over it. Brendan will be thirty-six this December and has not yet died from any childhood illnesses. I love my sister and I love her for her concern. But what really instigated her concern was fear. That and propaganda.

When Dylan and Tommy were born, Bonnie, ever vigilant in the task of being a good mother, wanted to vaccinate them for “some things” and to stagger the vaccinations. She, like my sister, was concerned about doing the “right thing.” I didn’t want to, but I trusted her mother wit. This strategy continued with our next baby, Mae. None of the children to that point showed any signs of harm—no autism, chronic health problems of anything, though Dylan had a few allergy issues early on, though these were prior to vaccination. But Bonnie’s concern was also instigated by fear.

Things changed when Aidan was born. While still delaying and staggering the few vaccinations we gave them, Aidan, at the age of four, had a reaction to a vaccine. It did not result in the kind of full-blown autism you hear about in the tragic tales of vaccine injury—and hopefully this is because we waited so long to let him get any of the shots. For him it was kind of a personality change as he transformed from a sweet and loving child to one afflicted with violent bouts of anger. He eventually learned how to control his emotions, but Bonnie was convinced this was from the vaccine, as the changed happened immediately. That was it: no more vaccines. The four children following Aidan have had zero vaccines.

So let’s unpack what happened here. Bonnie’s fear of her children getting ill was superseded by her fear that her concern resulted in actually harming her child. As a result, she became, like many other mothers, radicalized about vaccine harms.

A few years later, we were confronted with a potential vaccine emergency. Our daughter Isabel, then probably about eight or nine, stepped on a nail protruding through a board. The nail went through her sneaker, through the sole of her foot, out of the top of her foot, and through the top of the sneaker. I was at work at the time and Bonnie called me to ask what she should do. I said, “Take her to urgent care. See how they’ll treat her without a vaccine.” A little while later she called back, “They want to give her a DPT vaccine. I told them she’s already had whooping cough [pertussis].” Me: “Ask if they have just the tetanus shot.” Bonnie: “I did, and they don’t.” The urgent care staff tried to terrify both Bonnie and Isabel about the girl’s impending death did they not administer the vaccine. Bonnie told them to go to hell. Isabel is alive and well and runs cross-country at her college. (You can hear what Dr. Suzanne Humphries says about tetanus here).

So that was the extent of my family’s vaccine story. That is, until Covid.

I still can’t believe people put up with the obvious psyop that was the Covid scamdemic. People ask me when I first knew it was a scam, and I say “Day fifteen of ‘fourteen days to flatten the curve’.” But that’s not really honest, great copy though it be. The real answer is: “From the beginning.” As I have written at length before, what we saw with Covid was a magical operation at scale, magic being a psychological operation that works through image and word repeatedly pumped into the social imaginary. Witness, for example, this study in complete bullshit:

But I’ll say this: their magical operation was an enormous success. Credit where credit is due.

This magical operation, unfortunately, inflicted enormous damage on my own family. My oldest children were relatively unscathed psychologically by the shut downs and so forth, and my youngest don’t seem to have suffered extraordinarily directly from the propaganda (they were only nine and eleven when it started), but my kids in the middle, ranging from fifteen to twenty-three when it all went down, all experienced varying degrees of trauma, as I know has happened to untold millions of young people. And we never, ever talk about it, do we? For shame.

However, it was not just that magical kind of trauma that was inflicted on my family; some of it was more biological.

The Covid vaccines drove a bit of a wedge between Bonnie and me and a couple of our children, who did get the Covid vaxx. I won’t go into all the details, but they either had to do so for work or because they wanted to travel. We implored them not to. But they did. One of them has been ill quite often since, though he’s a scientist and I don’t think he’s quite ready to admit he was wrong. The most disturbing thing regarding my children is that Aidan—the same kid who was vaxx-injured at four—and who got the vaxx at the insistence of his girlfriend (they have since broken up)—told me once he wondered if the vaccine “flipped his brain” (he is probably the most intellectually gifted of all of my children, btw). And, as bad as that is, it is not the worst.

The worst happened to my wife.

In April 2021, just before Easter, I was in the yard butchering hogs. I usually prefer to leave that to my Amish butcher, but, because of Covid, he was so backed up he couldn’t get me on the schedule for months. And these hogs were already huge. My sisters, both of whom had recently received the Covid vaxx, came over to visit our mother, who, a dementia patient, lived with me. They didn’t want to come out to visit me, covered in blood and pig guts as I was, but they did visit with Bonnie. In our family, we always greet each other with a hug. This is part of the story.

A day later, Bonnie started to have an extraordinarily heavy period, with blood clots the size of her fist. Then she started having periods every two weeks and with the same symptoms. This went on for months, and she was becoming anemic. Now, bear in mind that this woman had a very strong reproductive system, having brought eight babies to term and breastfed them all. At first, she thought it might be signs of menopause. Then she read an article in The New York Times.

In “What Women Need to Know about the Covid Vaccine,” written by Linda Wenner Moyer and published on March 8, 2021, Bonnie read about symptoms vaccinated women were experiencing: symptoms exactly like her own—only she wasn’t vaccinated, at least not in the traditional manner. What’s more, in the comments she read the stories of dozens of unvaccinated women who also started displaying the same symptoms after being near the recently-vaccinated. Of course, when I would mention this to the pro-vaxx crowd, they went directly into denial. They would ask ridiculous questions, like “Do you have any proof?” Well, first of all, you can’t get a clinician to look for something they don’t want to find—believe me, we asked. And secondly, what more proof do you need but the exact symptoms and testimonials of others suffering the same problem under the same conditions?

Bonnie’s irregular menses rapidly turned into cancer of the endometrial lining, which led to a hysterectomy. Proud hippie that she is, she refused chemo and radiation, electing instead to treat herself with diet and Ojibwe tea. She has been cancer-free ever since.

This experience inflicted a lot of pain and trauma on my family. And while our younger kids weren’t traumatized by the lockdowns, they were by their mother’s brush with death. And none of it ever needed to happen. My one hope is that my children, whether directly or indirectly vaccinated, can avoid the worst of the problems associated with the vaccines, not only cancer and heart issues but also infertility. And those bastards in BigPharma knew.

One more thing: after my sisters visited, not only did Bonnie start irregular bleeding, but our two youngest both had uncharacteristic nosebleeds at the same time. Never before or since have they had nosebleeds. Draw your own conclusions.

Part of the collateral damage from all of this has been the loss of friends. We lost A LOT of friends over our resistance to the Covid regime. Dozens for sure. And even when I told them what had happened to Bonnie and what our suspicions were, the most I got was, “I’m sorry that happened…but it wasn’t the vaccine.” Oh yes it fucking was. As Dougie MacLean sings, “I lost the friends I needed losing, found others on the way.”

As we have seen recently, not only did Pfizer and their criminal accomplices in both government and media know all of this from the beginning, they also worked to cover it up—remember the original plan to hold the Pfizer papers back from the public for seventy-five years? My God. As a result, I have nothing but admiration for

Dr Naomi Wolf

who has been a true warrior goddess in fighting the good fight and getting the word out about these vaccine which she calls “a crime against humanity.” Here you can see her recent speech to the European Parliament where she lays this all out.

Likewise, am I profoundly grateful to

Aaron Siri

for his dedication to uncovering the truth and his recent testimony before a Senate panel chaired by Ron Johnson. You can see a short clip here. And I would be remiss if I did not mention the debt of gratitude I owe to Dr. James Thorp who talked to me early on as my family was still processing the trauma of Bonnie’s illness and who was the first medical professional who didn’t dismiss our concerns as “conspiracy theory.” It has not been easy.

And, since I am still working through my Fairport Convention hangover, here is their song “Doctor of Physick”—which seems somewhat fitting.